Hello!
Welcome to my Dark-Hunter story that I've decided to put out on FFNET. Its one which has been inside my head for a while, and now I want to place it out here for others to read. I hope you all will enjoy it as I do. So, please enjoy! And you can review if you want too (just be polite. This world is brutal enough without nasty comments being typed or said. I do like corrective criticism, because it helps a writer of any story grow. But any sort of politeness is appreciated.)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of Sherrilyn Kenyon's works, plots, timeline, character, or anything of her property. I'm just a fan who wised to create an oc im her amazing world.
Now on to the Chapter!
Chapter One
"Why do you stare at me like that?"
The speaker was a young male with blonde hair and blue-green eyes. His taunt muscles showed how tense and confused he was by her silence. It emitted a cloud of frustration around them, making others nearby ward off. And the tick in his chiseled jawline told her how close the youth was to snapping out in anger at her stoic behavior.
"Like you can't stand me?" His voice was hard and firm as he claimed the barstool next to her. "If you won't tell me what makes look at me like you hate me. Then help me understand."
Oh, Otto was right him. She shook her head smiling at the boy's stern gaze as he shifted on the barstool next to her. He truly does remind me…
A twinge of pain echoed in her heart.
Shaking her head, she met his glare directly and gave him a raised brow.
"Well, if you insist." A slow smirk stretched across her lips as she flicked her glacial-blue irises over to his frowning expression. "Listen to me when I say this… I don't hate you."
His snort interrupted the rest of her explanation.
You little shite.
Her smile widened as her fingers gripped the handle of her drink tightly, his actions cementing just how eerily he reminded her of him. Shaking her head in resolve she cleared her head and loosened her hold. "You just remind me of an ancient hurt, one which seems to haunt me. So, don't worry about me, boy."
The youth shook his head side to side, exhaling. "My name is Daniel Greeves, by the way. Not boy."
Her chuckle was raspy and genuine. Fiery too.
"Who do I exactly remind you of? I mean, I'm pretty interested in knowing just who hurt you enough to make you despise my guts."
It was her turn to exhale.
"Like I said, boy. There is no reason for me to hate you. It's more of grief, than hatred. You remind me of my little brother." Her voice was soft, barely a whisper. And the look in her once fierce gaze was now diminished to a sorrowful stare. "Rangvaldr was about your age when he was killed."
"Rangvaldr? I look like your long-dead sibling?" Daniel blinked at the information that was given to him. "But how?"
"The work of the Gods," she shrugged with her brows pinching. "Whether it may be the Greek or Norse Pantheon. I know naught- though it'd explain things better."
Daniel fell silent before speaking again, softly this time.
"Can I…" He scratched at his head with an awkward look donning his once angered features. His blue-green orbs met hers' with sympathy. "Can I ask what happened to him? If you don't mind me asking, because if you do then it makes me feel like some sort of an asshole."
"You can be a bacraut." She teased lightly, lifting her mug to give him a false cheer. It was a joke she knew would unease him, but not too much. "But yes, you can ask. And I'll try not to grind my ax along your skull afterward."
"Hah, funny," he barked with laughter, before falling quiet at her direct stare. "What happened to him then? Who killed Rangvaldr?"
The way he pronounced her deceased brother's name was amusing
"My husband," she paused, releasing one humorless chuckle as she shook her head, causing ashy-blonde locks to sway from all sides. "Or ex-husband in modern terms."
"Your husband? You had a hus- exactly how old even are you?" Daniel's shock was nearly palpable. His hands smacking atop the bar counter in brief confusion.
"Old enough."
"Okay, y'know what. I am not going to ask." He waved the confusion out from the air and rubbed at his face when she laughed huskily at his muddled features. "Why? Why did your husband kill Rangvaldr?"
"Not just Rangvaldr." She said firmly, jaw clenching with flaring emotions rising to the surface of her mind and soul. "My kin, sword-brethren, and the entire village."
"He slaughtered them. But why would he go through such lengths?" A fierce glare was mingling in his gaze, burning into her scar (which was borne for all to see on her throat. A jagged line cutting across the flesh.) "He killed you too…"
A nod.
"Siegfried was envious of the respect the loyal Drengr and the longship's worth of riches my father attained through the title of being Jarl." Her lips tipped down when the images of her family's faces resurfaced. "You see, my home was a well-known settlement to the Vikingum of Northumbria. We had a firm alliance with the famed sons of Ragnar Lodbrok, through joining their Great Heathen Army. And healthy trading's with our Saxon neighbors."
"Pause." Daniel tapped the bar again, brows furrowing. "What does Drengr, Jarl, and Vikingum mean? And should I know who the sons of Ragnar are?"
By Odin's beard.
She shook her head and placed her right hand atop his left shoulder. And while she couldn't believe her night would go on explaining what certain words in her language meant, she would see it done. Like she'd done for her brother when he was an inquisitive youth.
"Drengr means courageous warrior – respected and held high in honor." She said calmly. "Jarl is what you'd consider a powerful Chieftain, and Vikingum is the old way of calling all Scandinavians seafaring pirates... Yes, we were alike to pirates. But much stronger and loyal."
Daniel closed his mouth at that, having his question answered.
"Who're the sons of Ragnar?"
"They were legendary Vikingr; their father was the fiercest warrior in our history. He led wars and sieges on the ancient lands of Britannica and Frankia." She went on to explain who these important figures in her past were. "After Ragnar was executed by the Saxon, King Aelle. They gathered every warrior and shieldmaiden. Prepared the greatest army to date before laying waste to the King and his men."
"You said your family was a part of the Great Army of Heathens?" Daniel leaned against the bar with his eyes focused on her. He was propped fully against the counter with his lower half edging off his barstool as he listened. "What year was that?"
Great Army of Heathens? A snort escaped. Bjorn and Ubba would cut off his tongue at such a name. And Gods help the boy if he meets Tryggvason. He'd stick an axe in him for the horrendous way he speaks of Viking heritage and history.
Yet, the thought made her wish to be there in person if the two ever met.
"Ragnhild? Did you hear me?"
"Yes. It was sometime around 860 C.E. or maybe sooner?" Her lips smashed together when she turned her attention on the murky memories of her past, not recalling the specific year. "I know a friend who'd be able to tell you the year. He never forgets anything."
The inside joke was wasted on him.
"So? What happened when Siegenfried began his evil plot?" The change in their topic soured her mood, though she grinned at the poor annunciation of Siegfried's name.
"Death." She stated blankly.
"I get that." Daniel groaned. "I'm asking what happened once he got his plan into motion. What did he do? Did anyone find out?"
"No. No one knew about my husband's betrayal." Her eyes narrowed as did her grip on his shoulder. "The veslingr gathered a band of exiled warriors and thieves to incorporate them into his overthrowing of my father. They swept through the settlement on the eve of Rangvaldr's twenty-first birthday, as you now call it, and cut a path of blood to the longhouse."
Her hand fell from his shoulder to rub against her neck.
"I was among the few housecarls guarding the inside of our longhouse. But the fighting outside eventually bled into the hall and we clashed in a violent storm." Each finger dug into the scar now, leaving red lines. Her face went tight with the building anger. "He slew the men guarding my mother before killing her."
"You fought with them." Daniel eased back as she tamped the roiling emotions back down before she accidentally released her ability of Illusions on the crowd.
"I did." A bitter smile claimed her lips as she closed her eyes on a show of resignation. "I fought beside Brynjar, Svienn, Asger, and Tolka. We fought until Siegfried broke through our defense until he slaughtered my warriors and captured my brother and father."
Ragnhild broke off what she was going to drink her last few drops of spiced whiskey. Its sharp tang burned down her esophagus and simmered deep in her stomach; a fire lighting in her veins. She opened her eyes and glanced over to the stoic expression on the bartender's face. It was one of the Peltier brothers, eldest of the quadruplets, Cherif. He offered her a look of brief concern, knowing how the story of her fateful death and rebirth came to be. And how much it pained her whenever she spoke about it aloud.
"Could I get another, Cherif?" She asked the towering blonde Bear were before her and the young squire. "Bring a beer for the boy too if you can. Put it on my tab."
Cherif nods with a gentle glance, shooting Daniel a careful look.
"You got it."
Daniel peered at the muscled Were-Hunter and her as he trailed off to the other side of the bar in search of her drink and his. "You died fighting him and became a Dark-Hunter in return for vengeance."
"Hmm yes…" Her grin was dark. "But before this happened, I challenged him to a Holmgang in front of his remaining fighters. On an oath that if I defeated him, he was to release my father and Rangvaldr to the escorts from Repton, who came on Ubba's orders, after word reached him about the overthrow for power."
"Holmgang?"
"Single combative fight, until their opponent dies." She informed him. "He accepted as any honorable warrior would but he deceived me and murdered my father right in front of my brother and I."
Daniel was silent this time around when Cherif approached the two with their drinks in both his hands. His shock at the savagery was plain, coupled with the anger he felt for the losses she'd been dealt too. It kept him quiet as she accepted the whiskey glass appreciatively from the quad.
She took a healthy gulp of the fiery liquid before breaking the silence between them.
"At his display of dishonor, I broke the last threads of sanity and attacked him, only after I dismembered his lovely shieldmaiden." She gestured to the thick scar across her throat. "He cleaved his axe through my neck, the one my father gifted him on our wedding. And I died just after he cut off Rangvaldr's head brutally."
"What the- I can't believe…" Daniel cupped his head before grabbing his beer to chug a good amount down. "No wonder you can't stop looking at me and here I was acting like some ignorant dickhead."
"You didn't know, so drop the guilt." She told him.
"I am sorry, Ragnhild." He said honestly, giving her a look of pure regret and kindness. His hands dropped from the bar counter to rest on his lap as he sighed. "If I knew… No. That doesn't explain my rude behavior, either way my Mama would chew me out for being an ass."
"Daniel." Her voice was firm. "Drop it."
"Hey, Greeves!" The voice of Kyl Poitier jerked the young squire's attention behind him, where the elder squire stood in front of the staircase that'd lead them down to the first floor of the Limani (Sanctuary.)
Ragnhild offered the man a smile as he came up to stand between them. "Finally crawled out from that hole you've been within, Poitier?"
Kyl swatted her arm with a smirk.
The surprised expression the youth's face had a laugh coming from Ragnhild as she clasped hands with the dark-haired man on her right. They gave one another a brief embrace, taking the moment to further Daniel's sudden awkward look on his already shocked face. It amused both when he shuffled his stool away from the two, his movements sharp and jerky in his apparently desperate attempt to get away from the two of them. But with the next stool holding a person on it, he couldn't get far from their smirking features, which had a glare being sent their way.
"How do you know each?" He couldn't help but ask with a frown marring his eyebrows.
"His grandfather Harold was my squire in the sixties, until he died in an fatal car accident. The right to become my squire then passed to Phil, his son, who introduced the wailing Gifr that was Kyl to me on the lad's eighth name-day." She explains while patting Kyl on his back. "He used to follow me around the old home I lived in for the first couple of weeks."
A dramatic exhale came.
She continued with. "Took me half a day to get him to stop trailing my very shadow."
"I was told that you had treasure in your basement," Kyl says with an exasperated look on his face. "Dad had a grand time with your complaints about me tailing you everywhere you went."
"Oh, I remember him laughing at my misfortune." She shook her head and drank the whiskey from her glass for a moment. "Though I do recall Sarah giving him a fierce talking." A grin spilled across her lips as she peered over to Kyl before winking at Daniel, who gave her a shrug in return. "Her words were enough to shake the foolishness out of him."
"Never saw him sleep on the couch for an entire week, but he did." Kyl chuckled at the fond memory.
"This." Daniel waved between them with a finger. "This is weird and I'm not sure what to feel about him laughing with you, and you talking about a child-like Kyl."
"Alright, smartass." Kyl sent him a glare, wiping away the look of calm on his face as he grabbed ahold of Daniel's bicep and began tugging him. His lips were drawn into a thin line, which showed his ire. "Enough. I was told to come and get you, so let's go."
"Go easy on the boy, Kyl." Ragnhild told the man, leveling stern stare on him. "You know my rules about any of my squires. Don't test the waters on them."
Kyl released his bicep with a sigh. "Okay, come on."
Daniel shot an impressed glance over to Ragnhild as he stood from his barstool, with his beer in hand. He avoided Kyl's hard look and offered her a wave when the two walked away from the bar and over to the staircase. Meanwhile, she leaned back against the counter and took another healthy gulp of her whiskey before setting the glass mug down gently onto the polished wooden bar behind her. It was picked up by a smiling Cherif, who flicked his gaze to the disappearing forms of both squires' before landing back on her. She shook her head and gave him a smirk in response to his assessing eyes, knowing he'd heard everything that had been said over the last few minutes between her and the inquisitive youth.
He truly does remind me of you. She thought gently, propping her chin atop her curled fists, which she rested underneath her jaw. Rangvaldr…
A sharp tune of Nordic chanting broke her thoughts.
It was her cell phone.
Rolling her eyes, she pried the device from her coats' side pocket and flipped it open to see who was calling her up at this hour of the night. It was a familiar number, and one she was shocked to see – after all, she had been talking about him.
What a wonder. Her mind snipped sarcastically. The Norns do love to dish out humorous situations to me.
A chuckle escaped her before she accepted the call.
"What's the matter, heiðinn?" The old Norse term for heathen was one she loved using for his nickname, and she knew it amused him in return. "You never call me unless there's a sea of prey to demolish?"
"Luck day for you then," Wulf Tryggvason said briskly. "I'm in town with Cassandra. We've got a matter to settle here in New Orleans and I'm sure you're going to want a piece of what's coming. If not then I'll call the Celt instead."
A feminine tone slipped through the speaker in her ear.
"Oh no, go on. Tell me what has a Drengr such as you calling a fellow Hunter?" She asked with her head cocking to the side. "You're not one to leave their designated hunting territory anyways. So, what is leading you and your strawberry-blonde haired maiden all the way here?"
"There's a list." Wulf growled angrily, cursing in Norse under his breath. "You're on it."
"By Thor's arse? What do you mean a list with me on it?" She barked in bewilderment? " And whose?"
"Daimons. I found it on one of their dead's belongings. A list with the names of every active Dark-Hunters that's in the New Orleans area." He explained.
"Jotun's freezing balls." Her fingers curled around the plastic of her phone's case as she glared down at the polished wood of the bar. "But who else do they have on their grocery list?"
"Mine, for what I have no idea? I'm stationed in Minnesota, not the Big Easy with the rest of the party-goers." His words were layered with his confusion and fury. "Listen. You should inform the Hunters, even if Kyrian isn't considered to be active, and tell the Roman"
Ragnhild groaned, knowing this wouldn't blow over well with Kyrian and his semi-rival.
"Who else is on it." She asked after rubbing at her face. The frustration and wariness was bubbling at this point as waited for the others names to be said.
"When I get there, I'll have you look at the names on this damned thing..." Wulf said quietly. "They're important…"
"Important how?"
"Think Dogs of War important."
Ragnhild cursed violently under her breath at the mention of those ancient, nearly mad, warriors of their Dark-Hunter brethren. "Frigg's tits, what the hell next?"
A hard laugh from Wulf broke her thoughts as she rubbed at her brows. "Typical day, systir."
"It appears so, brodir." She sighed.
"I'm calling Ash to inform him of what's coming for the Hunters in New Orleans." He told her, saying something to his wife on the other side of the line. "Where do you want to meet, when we get there?"
"My estate," she said. "Have Gustave call the Celtic and Roman to give them a time to meet us. I'm going to Kyrian and Amanda's place right now to tell them. We're going to need to gather who we can. But while I'm gone, have Gustave lead you and Cass to your old quarters."
"How is he still alive?" Wulf was bewildered.
Ragnhild chuckled at the random change in their conversation. The mix of emotions causing a weary laugh to escape.
"He swears its his fine health," her lips twitched. "I think his family made a deal with Tyr himself in exchange for longevity of life. Because he's the most vengeful man on Midgard when justice isn't being served."
A heavy snort rippled across the line and she copied it with her very own. "Wouldn't put it past him."
She chuckled now; her amusement was true and needed at the words she'd just heard.
"Alright, brodir, I'm getting off this call for now." She brushed aside her stray blonde locks. "I will see you and Cassandra at my place in a few moments."
Wulf sighed. "Be careful. I don't want to hear that you were cut down by those veslingrs, Kjotvesdottír."
"On my father's name, is it?" She grinned. "I wouldn't worry. The Valkyries won't be collecting me for Valhalla until I decide so... I swear on Thor's precious Mjolnir."
"See that they don't." With that he hung up.
Ragnhild snapped the phone shut with her shoulders tensing. The news was unsettling to hear; Daimons holding a list with well-known Hunters was concerning. She couldn't help the growl that slipped past her throat as she just thought of dealing with those soul-suckers. It was weighing, but she had a duty to this world and the mortals that lived on it. So, with a shake of her head she stood from her designated barstool and grabbed her few belongings from the counter, nodding farewell to Cherif as he waved his hand. Her expression was blank as she made her way through the crowd on the second floor, cutting a path to the staircase that'd lead her down to the first.
Whatever they plan to do, is troubling.
The thought was followed by an image of her fallen sword-brethren. Those long deceased Dark-Hunter's faces haunting her as she closed her eyes to rid their images from her minds' eye. Each man and woman's gazes burned into hers'. It was another reminder that even they could die. Their immortality could be cut short within their long lives. And now that this list had appeared. The dread in her being grew. It had the names of her, Wulf, Talon, Valerius, Kyrian, Samia, Ethon, and the rest of the Dogs of War on it.
Her fast pace had led Ragnhild to the front entrance of the limani, nodding at the second quadrupled brother of Cherif's - Dev - on the way out. (Who offered her a friendly look as she passed him.)
This reminded her of something, which she knew needed to be done. "Can you do me a favor, Bear."
Dev paused at her question, frowning. "What?"
"Tell Samia to gather the other Dogs and to meet me at my place- tonight in half an hours." She met his icy-blue irises with her own glacial-blue gaze. "You'll need to come with. All of the hunter's in one place makes us weak, but it needs to be done."
"What's going on, Viking." His voice was suddenly hard and filled with wariness. He broke away from the doorway and stalked to her. "And why does Samia need to be there."
"We're being hunted this time around." Her honesty was clear. "The Predators have turned into the prey, all on a list with our names on it."
Dev's eyes widened in alarm, his instincts flaring protectively for his mate. "Why is she on it?"
Her face was pinched. "Just let her know."
"Dammit!" He spat angrily, though he nodded at her in acceptance. "Alright. We'll be there."
"See you then, Bear." She gave him a look of sympathy before hurrying to her Harley-davidson. "Warn whoever else is in the bar."
"Done." His voice was icy. "Be safe out there, Viking. Samia will be pissed if you die."
Ragnhild chuckled loudly.
"Why do people keep telling me to be safe?" Her laughter was layered with amusement. "Don't worry about me! Worry about them."
She left his sight and towards the sleek, pitch-black, Harley-Davidson motorcycle that stood just before her. Its sharp edges were smooth and clean. This was her favorite bike, and a much-loved gift from her friend and boss, Acheron 'Ash' Parthenopeaus. A gift that she treasured dearly. So, with smooth practiced movements, she straddled the leather seat and kickstarted the beauty with a loud snarl, which echoed throughout the nearly barren street. But before she roared off to Hunter's home, she flipped out her phone and dialed Kyrian's number.
He picked up on the first ring. "Talon called me? What's going on?"
"Daimons are hunting us. You, me, Talon, Wulf, everyone else. We're on their shopping list." Her voice was muffled by the rumbling engine beneath her. "Look. I'll explain more when I get to your house. For now, lock the windows... Shut the place down."
"Damn." His sigh was heavy. "I'll be at the gate."
"Alright, I'll see you then." She hung up, placing her phone into her pocket and directing her bike onto the street.
The motorcycle growled fiercely under her as she stomped down on the pedal, jerking forward. Gods hoping this ends well.
She hoped it would.
And there is the first chapter!
I hope you enjoyed reading this first chapter! Thank you for taking the time to actually read it!!
I'll be uploading a second here very soon.
RR if you want!