The Wages of Sin (Blood Brothers Vampire Series Book Two) (17 page)

The boat was called
The Black Rose.

Odin was not quite so bothered as Tyr over what had
happened, and Loki seemed only mildly peeved, as though he’d been
double-jumped at checkers. So when Tyr came back to the catacombs
with a Viking prisoner and a brutal war story of his triumph over
sixty Viking soldiers and the burning of their ships, complete with
a plan to continue this bloodlust into the next few weeks, they
were not as keen as he was.

“Harold, what’s wrong with you?” asked Odin. “This
level of bloodshed is… We kill to feed, not for the joy of it. What
is it you’re hoping to achieve?”

“Father, you and I witnessed what these men are
capable of. They are not worthy of life. We have the means to fight
them.”

“And if we do, if we hunt them and kill them, what
makes us any different than the ones who killed Eleanor?”

“We’re not human!” said Tyr as though Odin’s
question were foolish. “We’re beasts, gods, another plane of
existence entirely. We can see things from a greater perspective
and seek to better the world.”

“Better it by means of brutality and slaughter?”

“Yes. Exactly. Is there anything in the Augury that
says we shan’t kill anyone we wish? That says we have no right to
judge which men live and which die?”

“No, but I think you might find it in the Ten
Commandments.”

It was Loki who answered, not Tyr. “The Bible was
written by humans. If we want to hold stock in what the Augury
says—to claim it’s written by members of our own race, a race that
is higher than mankind—then it holds true that the Bible was
written by lower beings. We are either gods or men. If we are men
then perhaps the Bible can be our guide, but the Augury does not
apply to us. And if we are gods, then the reverse is true.”

“John, I am surprised,” said Odin to Loki. “You
hardly knew the woman in question and you would give up the path of
Christ to avenge her?” There would come a time when Loki’s desire
to kill would surprise no one.

“I would give up the path of Christ either way,”
said Loki. “I would avenge this woman because it is what Harold
wants and he is my brother.” He smiled at Tyr, who smiled back.

“God is for mortals,” said Tyr. “For us there is no
Heaven nor Hell except what is here for us on Earth. There is no
higher plane to reach. We are the higher plane. What we have is
each other and the others of our kind. That is all.”

Odin sighed and shook his head. “Say we pursue this
line of thought; what follows from here?”

“I know where The Black Rose is,” said Tyr, “and the
monster who slew Eleanor will be on it when they leave, and we will
wait for him there. We will dress in Viking clothing and take
shelter as near the Viking camp as possible. The prisoner I’ve
brought speaks Norse. He will teach us as much of the language as
we can learn until the time comes when the members of The Black
Rose return. When they come for their ship, we will board with them
and kill them at sea.”

“And if they leave at day as they most certainly
will?”

“I don’t know. Then I suppose there’s nothing we can
do. But it’s no excuse not to try.”

There was a long silence before Loki said, “We would
have to bend more rules, but maybe there is something we can
do.”

It was mid-afternoon when Ragnar and his friends
reached the shore. They’d deserted the other men during battle and
were on their own again. Most of the others were dead—maybe all of
them, for all they knew.

Vali was dead. Stabbed through the chest by an
Englishman. There were only four in their crew now, and things
weren’t looking hopeful for Eilif. He’d been hit in the shin with
an arrow and they’d amputated his leg a few nights prior,
cauterizing the limb using the flat edge of Ragnar’s axe and the
heat of a campfire. Ragnar and Gunnar had to help him walk today
and he hung his head and whined that he wasn’t going to make
it.

Rounding out the group was the sixteen-year-old
Helgi, who, though he’d seen no physical harm, had become the
blubbering, hysterical member of the group. Vali was his older
brother and Helgi had been standing next to him when the enemy
soldier stabbed him. It wasn’t hard to see it was ripping him
apart.

“What… the fuck…” said Ragnar when they came through
the woods and saw the beach.

The four of them stopped walking and stared. The
beach was painted with blood, littered with the bodies of of their
brothers, and most of the thirty boats they’d left were gone. Some
of them were charred wrecks washed up on the shore. They’d been
fools to attack England. All over the country Viking men were dying
at the hands of the English.

“Let’s go,” said Helgi. “We’ll take one of the boats
and leave with the four of us.”

“Four of us will never get a boat back to Norway.
Especially not with Eilif in this condition.”

“
I’ll be—” Eilif
started, but he exhausted himself after two words and trailed off.
What he had meant to say was
‘I’ll
be as much help as I can.’

“Be that as it may, I don’t see another option. Do
you?” asked Gunnar. “It’s either that or sit here on the shore and
hope more of our people return before the English come finish us
off. Is that what you want to do?”

“Damn it, I don’t know. Let’s get to the boats and
figure it out from there.”

They rushed across the beach to where the last four
boats were. Among them was The Black Rose.

“Would you look at that,” said Gunnar. “Still
standing.”

“A sign from the gods!” shouted Ragnar. “We’re not
going to die today.”

“Are we going to go, or are we going to wait?”

“Fuck it. Let’s shove off. My spirit is restored. We
can’t lose.”

“Soldiers! You’re alive!” a voice said. “Thank the
gods.” It was a bearded man in his forties. He had been sitting
against the hull of their ship, asleep, and the boys had assumed he
was as dead as the rest of their brothers in arms.

“Well shit, it’s good to see somebody is alive here.
Come on, old man.”

“Pleased to meet you, boys,” said the older man. “My
name is Bork.”

“Man, we ain’t got time for fuckin’ formalities,
man. Let’s get the fuck outta here!” said Helgi, in Old Norse of
course.

“Yeah, I think we should go, dude,” said Ragnar. “We
got our asses handed to us out there. Everybody’s fuckin’ dead. It
looks like you guys saw the same shit here on this beach.”

“It’s safe,” said Bork. “This happened days ago. But
we can’t leave now.”

“Why not, man? Why fuckin’ not? It’s a fuckin’ death
sentence to stay here, man,” said Helgi.

“There are no supplies in the boats,” said Bork, and
everyone froze.

“
Aw fuck. Aw,
fuck, man. We’re all gonna fuckin’ die, man. That’s it. We’re
fuckin’ dead.
‘Come join the army.
Learn to be a man.’
I don’t want to be a
fucking man anymore, man. I wanna go home.”

“Calm down, Helgi. Get it together. We’ll figure
this out.”

“You don’t have to worry,” said Bork. “When the
English took the camp, they destroyed all our supplies. And it’s
true, with the five of us it would take weeks to make it home and
we’d be lucky to make it at all. With no food and water, our
chances are zero. But it so happens I’ve had this conversation
already with three other soldiers who fought bravely beside me and
made it back to the beach with me just last night. They’re out
gathering food and water now. When they return, there will be eight
of us. Eight of us can handle the boat, and with food and water we
can survive long enough to make it home.

“We’re gonna make it,” said Ragnar after a long
pause. “We’re gonna live, dudes. We’re gonna fucking live!” He
raised his hands and howled at the sea.

Knock, knock, knock.

“They’re here.”

The house where the Brothers were hiding was down
the beach from the camp and through the woods. It was empty,
abandoned. It wasn’t well kept and it was a bit of a schlep, but
otherwise it was a perfect lodging and they hadn’t had to kill
anyone for it. It even had a cellar, which was preferable.

Odin opened the door to the basement and let Bork
in. “They’re waiting for us at the camp?” he asked in Norse.

Bork had been giving them Norse lessons eight hours
a day for three weeks now. They’d done everything they could to
learn, but they certainly weren’t speaking it like natives.

“I did as you told me and informed them you were
gathering food and water. They’re awaiting your return with
impatience.”

“Did they come with the others? By the
thousands?”

“Luck is on your side. Just four of them came. But
they made their way to The Black Rose as I slept, and one had the
emblem on his shield and a scar on his face as you described.”

“You have done great work for us, Bork. We thank
you.”

“I’ve upheld my end of the bargain. Now you must
give me immortality.”

“In time. First you get aboard that ship with us and
when I see the man is the one we want, then you will have your
reward. But not until he draws his final breath.”

“I don’t like this. How do I know you won’t kill me
when you kill them? I’ve trusted you up to this point. Why can’t
you trust me that they’re waiting for you and make me immortal
now?”

“You’ve trusted us because you haven’t had a choice.
We spared your life when we took the beach, and we placed our faith
in you to halt our friends from departing without us. It’s us who
have trusted you.”

“You spared my life because you needed me. And you
put faith in me to stop them because you had no choice. That’s not
trust.”

“Then it’s lack of choice and that’s what both of us
have. We’ll uphold our end of the bargain after the Vikings who
killed our friend are dead, and that’s that.”

“I still don’t like it. Your Norse is shit, by the
way. When we get back there, you let me do all the talking.”

“We will. Why don’t you head back to camp, Bork?
Don’t keep our company waiting. We’ll meet you in a few hours. I’ll
bring the jars of water, and Harold will bring the sack of food,
and John will bring the other sack.”

“There you are, boys. I was beginning to get
worried,” Bork said cheerfully when Odin, Tyr, and Loki arrived on
the beach where the ships were.

“We have food,” said Loki, who had managed to absorb
the most Norse of the three.

The Viking men rushed to meet the Brothers, who were
dressed in Viking soldiers’ uniforms they’d taken from the dead in
the woods before they dragged the rest of the bodies onto the beach
for spectacle. Ragnar and Gunnar were excited to meet them, shaking
their hands and introducing themselves excitedly. The Brothers
tried to keep quiet.

“This is Ingvar, Kari, and Erp,” said Bork of Tyr,
Odin, and Loki, who were still going by Harold, John, and
Jacob.

“Water?” asked Odin, holding out a jar. Ragnar took
it and guzzled some. He passed it to his friends.

“Conserve that,” said Bork. “We have a long journey
ahead and only so many supplies to last us.”

The soldiers continued to pass the jar around and
drink conservatively from it, with the exception of the terrified
Helgi, who drank quite liberally.

“It’s gotten late,” said Gunnar. “Should we set out
now, or should we wait till morning?”

“We should go. When we were gathering food we could
hear the English nearby,” said Loki, and if what he had said were
not so unsettling to the Viking boys, they might have commented on
his accent and asked him where he was from.

“Let’s go, dudes. I don’t wanna fuckin’ die,” said
Helgi.

Everybody piled onto The Black Rose except Loki,
Tyr, Ragnar, and Gunnar, who pushed the boat out to sea as far as
they could before they climbed aboard. They all grabbed oars and
rowed out into the ocean, laughing and cheering themselves on,
thankful they’d escaped with their lives—or, in the case of the
Brothers, thankful they hadn’t.

“We sure are lucky we found you boys,” said Ragnar.
“We’d have been fucked without you.”

Tyr nodded.

“What am I saying, though? You’d have been fucked
without us too. Four people just ain’t getting one of these ships
back to Norway without divine intervention.”

Again, Tyr nodded.

“Where are you from?” asked Gunnar, directing the
question at Loki. “You’ve got a peculiar dialect I can’t
place.”

“Out west,” said Loki.

“Where out west? I’m from out west, but I can’t say
I’ve met anyone who talks like you.”

“Forget it.”

Helgi couldn’t explain why he suddenly had the urge
to piss himself. They were a kilometer out to sea now and it was
time to be celebrating, laughing, getting to know new friends, but
these three mysterious soldiers didn’t appear interested in any of
that.

“Did you guys see some real shit out there?” asked
Eilif, who’d been lying down quietly having exhausted himself after
five minutes of paddling. It was the first thing he’d said in days
that wasn’t ‘My fucking leg,’ or ‘I need to rest,’ or ‘Can we slow
down?’

Tyr nodded. Yes. They’d seen some real shit.

“I don’t blame you for not wanting to talk,” said
Eilif. “We saw some shit too. I lost my goddamned leg to an arrow
and I never even found out where it came from or who shot it. Helgi
over there saw his brother killed in front of him.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk,” said Helgi. “We’ve all
been through hell. Maybe we should just keep rowing.”

“The only thing is,” said Eilif, uninterrupted,
“given the shit we’ve been through and the shit we can assume
you’ve been through, it’s going to be hard for us to work together
if we can’t trust each other. All Gunnar wanted to know was where
you’re from, because you talk a little weird. But you start getting
defensive and we get uncomfortable and then there’s distrust
between everyone and that’s not healthy. So why don’t you just
answer his question?”