White Stag (Permafrost #1)(22)

“I’m just sore that we have to have a human slowing us down.” Helka stepped forward to meet me and bent to whisper in my ear, “And I know what you did to Aleksey.”

I didn’t think. Redness overtook my vision, and my hand whipped across Helka’s face, the crack of the slap echoing off the bare trees. Blood trickled down her cheek from where my nails dug into her skin. Time stopped and the only things moving were the branches of skeleton trees blowing in the wind. Then Helka lunged at me. I dodged the blow and then another, a snarl bubbling at my lips. Her axe moved quickly through the air in a blur before every strike, and I definitely didn’t have time to counterattack. But I nimbly dodged every blow until I grabbed the axe’s handle as she swung down, kicking her in the side of her thigh. She stumbled, and I wrenched the axe away from her, gripping it firmly in my hands. The blade was heavier than I was used to, and it gleamed wickedly in the setting sun.

But she wasn’t done. She pulled her lips back in a snarl, her teeth lengthened, her brow furrowed, her nose and ears grew long, and the nails of her fingers turned to talons. “You little worm!”

I panted, already worn out by the brief struggle. It took only one look in Helka’s eyes to know that she would kill me if I didn’t defend myself. And I couldn’t allow her to kill me. To take my power, however small it was. The power was mine. And if she thought she could take it, she was wrong. Dead wrong. I’d rip her. I’d shove her corpse in the rivers of the Crossing so she’d never rest in Valhalla. I’d destroy her until there was nothing left to destroy.

I lunged at Helka with the fury in my body becoming my strength, using her axe to block her talons as she struck out at my face and heart. I danced with her, a dance I’d done many a time with Soren in the training fields as part of my companionship to him. But no sparring session could compare to the heat pulsing through my veins, the power that coursed through me, the pure delight that filled me when I ripped through her. The battle frenzy filled my mind, and my vision was black with shades of red. She would pay for those comments, for triggering those memories, for things she had no way of understanding.

Cold, rough hands wrapped around my waist and latched onto my wrists as I tried to yank myself to freedom. “Janneke,” a familiar voice said. “She’s dead! It’s okay, Janneke, she’s dead. She’s dead.”

The world came to me, and I cried out, falling to my knees. Helka had more power than the lordling I’d killed, so much more, and it hurt coming in. My body fought to reject it as if it were a foreign virus, but it found its way through my pores in spite of it, burning the whole way through. I scratched at my arms, trying to wipe it off, get the pain to stop, but the thick layer of power sank in.

When it was over, I lay panting, unsure of what went on. My mind, no longer crazed and scattered by the battle frenzy, was slowly picking up the details of what had happened. The body below me was beaten into a pulp, nearly unrecognizable, and Soren’s hands were still wrapped around my wrists. I found myself pressed against his chest, fighting for breath.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, low enough that the other two goblins wouldn’t hear. “It’s okay. It’s okay. She’s dead.”

“I—I—” I couldn’t find the words to speak.

“I know.” His breath was warm against my hair. “I know.”

I closed my eyes. Helka. Helka insulted me. I slapped her. She attacked me. I killed her.

“It’s really happening,” Elvira said, almost to herself.

The responding silence was deafening.

Bursts of panic erupted in my chest, despite Soren’s warm embrace, and my eyes began to sting. But no, I couldn’t cry or scream as my chest burned like it would split into two. I had to take it. I couldn’t let them see the weakness.

It was really happening. It was really happening. I was a killer. A monster like the one I’d slain. The dead eyes of the she-goblin stared up at me as I forced myself to feel disgust—not for the weakened creature at my feet, but for myself. I forced the sadness onto myself, forced the anger, and forced the guilt. I found if I couldn’t force the emotions, they wouldn’t come.

Elvira looked down at Helka’s body, then at me, shrugging. “Well, perhaps she wasn’t as useful as she appeared to be.”

And that was all she said about her ally’s murder.

“Come on,” Soren said. “Let’s find somewhere to set up camp.”

“We just did,” Elvira said.

“Somewhere not near a dead body, I meant. Unless you want to deal with any other predator of the flesh?” Soren raised an eyebrow.

I stood and he rose with me, and I only just remembered that his arms were still wrapped around me. I flashed him a look, and it seemed like he’d forgotten as much as I had, because he let go in an instant, a rare sheepish expression on his face.

“Thank you,” I said, in a low whisper. But was I thanking him for letting me go or for holding me in the first place? Somehow, I wasn’t sure it was the former.

Conversation broke out again as they moved a little farther to remake camp, and I numbly followed, leaving the body of the dead goblin behind. From a little way ahead of me, Soren looked back, worry etched on his features.

Panic trailed at my feet, feeling everything I felt, interpreting it the way only he could. He feared me, like he feared any predator. I tried to stroke his flank, but he moved aside every time. “I won’t hurt you,” I whispered to him. “Please, I won’t. I promise.” Maybe the bond could make him hear the sincerity in my voice.