We started toward the mead hall. Midway up the hill, the vampire paused when a man walked out in the middle of the road from behind a birch. Six and a half feet tall, he stood wrapped in chain mail. A cape of black fur billowed from his shoulders. His war helm, a near perfect replication of the Gjermundbu helmet, shielded the top of his head and half his face. The stainless steel had been polished until the sun’s rays slid off of it, as if he wore a mirror on his head. The man carried an enormous single axe on a long wooden handle. I’d tried to pick up the axe once and it weighed ten pounds at least. He was slower than molasses in January with it, but it looked impressive.

Derek focused on the big man. “Who is that?”

“That’s Gunnar. He’s the Norse Heritage’s idea of a security detail.”

“What, all by himself?”

I nodded. “He’s sufficient.”

Ghastek’s vampire stared at the giant Viking, motionless like a statue, while the Master of the Dead mulled the situation over. The bloodsucker turned, scuttled toward us, and fell back in line behind my horse. Apparently, Ghastek had decided that his vamp was too precious to risk.

We drew closer.

Gunnar took a deep breath and roared, “Vestu heill!”

Ow. My ears. “Hello, Gunnar.”

He squinted at me through his face mask and dropped his voice down. “Hey, Kate.” He sounded slightly out of breath.

“Good to see you.”

He leaned on his axe, pulled the helmet off, and wiped sweat from his forehead, revealing reddish hair braided on his temples. “You heading up to see Ragnvald?”

“Yep.”

“All of you?”

“Yep.”

“Even the lion?”

The lion opened his mouth, showing his big teeth. Yes, yes, you’re bad. We know, Your Majesty.

“Even the lion.”

“What about?” Gunnar asked.

“Dagfinn. You’ve seen him around?”

Gunnar took a moment to spit into the dirt, making a big show of it. “Nope. And all the better for it.”

Bullshit. “Too bad.”

“Yeah.” Gunnar waved me on with the helmet. “You’re good to go.”

“Thanks.”

We rode on.

“He lied,” Ascanio said.

“Yep.” Gunnar knew exactly where Dagfinn was. He took his cues from Ragnvald, and since he wasn’t talking, the jarl probably wouldn’t be talking either. This would not go well.