Page 185 of Veil of Blood and Bone

“You hurt Helene,” I say to Isvargr. “And I haven’t fed yet today.”

The emptiness in my gut howls for something to fill it.

Wren groans. “Looks like it’s brain freeze for both of us.”

Isvargr reacts before we’ve made the first move. A swipe of his rear claws takes out the nearest tree and sends a chain reaction crashing through the forest.

The girls scream, snow and ice exploding outward like shrapnel.

If she’s truly wounded in any way...

What? I’ll do what?

The same thing I’ve done for centuries, only to realize those wasted years accumulate to nothing aside from beating my head against a wall? The wall feels nothing.

Only I bear the brunt of it, with nothing to show for all the work.

But I know how this ends and not because I can see the future. Immortality is nothing but repetition wearing different disguises. Everyone dies eventually.

Friends and lovers. Families. Entire kingdoms.

Everyone and everything except me.

I outlive them all and somehow manage to call it survival instead of suffering. And Helene, well, she’s already ruined me.

The first time I saw her, I knew. I wanted something impossible.

I wanted forever.

I wasn’t built the same as the other Visigoths. But…

Forever was never made for beasts like me.

“Come on, Niketas.” Hellevi swings her battle ax in a circle before widening her stance and smirking. “Do something more than play with your sword like it’s a cock. Hit me. Do your duty! Or did I bandage you for nothing?”

A slow burn from enemies to ridicule to something mean, but real. She could have let me die on the battlefield, another barbarian. Instead, she saved my life.

Pent-up aggression lights my limbs. The cold is the barest throb against the numbness of my system, years of immortality turning me into little more than a meatsuit.

Pinpricks of ice are an annoyance, and my stomach turns with the bloodlust, the hunger. The desire to ravage my enemy and let his blood coat my skin until I'm a steaming mess in the middle of a monotone white.

“I’m not in the mood for games. Sorry.” I crack my head to the side, bone snapping in preparation.

I span the clearing, dodging those impaled tree branches like an obstacle course. Launch.

Vampire speed gets me to him in the blink of an eye, so vampire strength ought to bring him down. I slash claws across his flank where ribs should be and the hit rattles through him.

Isvargr meets me, hungry, matching me effortlessly.

With a roar, runes flare to life inside of him and he slams his skull into me. I go flying. Wren neatly sidesteps me when I land, disgraced and uncomfortable, at his feet.

“Again, my jötun is rusty, but I’m fairly sure he’s laughing at you.”

Isvargr chuckles louder, the sound a glacier splitting, and I hoist myself up.

“I’m getting warmed up,” I reply.

“Warm up faster, will you? Bird brain doesn’t have the decency to be conscious for this, so it’s up to the two of us.”