“Yes. Unclean thing. They’re harmless.” He dug in his bag. “Hang on…Here.” Roman pulled out a small pack of crackers and shook one out. “Here, you want a cracker?” He offered the cracker to the creature.

“Roman…” A warning crept into my voice. Those teeth didn’t look good.

“No worries,” he told me. “Here.” He clicked his tongue. “Come get a cracker.”

The uldra’s pale eyes focused on the cracker. Slowly it reached for it and plucked the small square from Roman’s fingers. The uldra took a bite.

“Good, huh?” Roman clicked his tongue some more. “Come on. Come.”

The uldra crawled onto his forearm and climbed up the black sleeve to sit on his shoulder.

“Jesus,” Raphael said.

Roman made smoochy lips at the uldra. “Who’s so good? Want another cracker?”

A second uldra made its way out of the bushes and sat by Roman’s boot, funky arms folded, waiting for a handout. Roman tossed another cracker on the ground. A couple of smaller creatures trudged over and tugged on the hem of his robe.

“There are plenty of crackers for everyone,” Roman reassured them.

Raphael leaned forward. The uldra bared their teeth. He growled at them.

“No need to bully them.” Roman petted the nearest beastie.

The first uldra finished its meal and rubbed its head against Roman’s cheek.

A low unearthly moan came from the trees. The uldra fled. One second they were there and then whoosh, only half-eaten crackers were left.

“Here we go.” Kate walked up to the stone and the sedated deer lying on it.

The plan was simple. Once the draugr showed up and we obtained the scale, I would take off. Normally I would only have to make it to the stone pillars, which marked the beginning of the Cherokee defenses. But Kate was worried that carrying the scale past the pillars meant we’d be moving a piece of the creature’s stash behind the ward line, which may or may not cancel the spells. We had to stop it at those pillars.

“Are you sure you can bind it?” I asked Roman.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve got this.”

Suddenly, I was really worried.

Kate opened the pouch, took out rune stones—small squares of worn bone, each with a rune etched on it in black—and tossed them into the basin. They scattered and clinked on the stone, like dice in a plastic cup. She emptied the canteen onto the runes, and I smelled hops and barley. Beer. Kate squeezed the honey bear, squirting a stream of amber-colored honey onto the runes.

Roman leaned toward me. “Those are Norse runes.”

I looked at him.

“Not Slavic ones,” Roman said. “Just thought I’d point it out.”

He looked like he could barely contain all of the excitement.

“Now,” Kate said.