“When there was no sign of a Valkyrie coming to reap my boys I tried to save their lives, but it was too late. They were past even the power of a Wanderer to resurrect. I couldn’t believe Verðandi had betrayed me. I summoned her, but she refused my call. Finally, after nightfall when the battlefield was left to the dead, the dying, and the scavengers, Verðandi appeared.”
“I demanded to know why she hadn’t reaped my boys. She told me that they didn’t die honorably enough. That they were retreating when they were killed. I argued that they were following orders to retreat, that the entire army had retreated, but she was having none of my logic. She told me my grandchildren were not worthy of becoming Wanderers.”
Rowle took another drink and eyes literally glowed with anger.
“The hag said my boys weren’t worthy. I could have saved both of them. Only Verðandi’s promise to have them be Wanderers had stayed my hand. I was betrayed by the god I’d served for forty years.
“I swore then that never again would I answer her summons.”
I thought of his story and understood that if he stated things correctly, then Verðandi only said she would consider both his children for Wanderers, not that she’d actually take either of them. I was not so foolish that I would point that out to him in his current state.
“So, you already knew about our relationship with Verðandi?” I asked.
“What relationship?” Alex asked.
“Yes, yes, that is why I knew my offspring could become Wanderers,” Rowle said. “You see, Alex, we are all descendants of Verðandi’s dalliance with a mortal. All of us, except for this lady, Cris, that is. All Wanderers are descendants of a god. A lot of good that will do you if the god turns her back on you.”
“While we are talking about descendants,” I said. Glancing down the couch toward Tess and Alex. “Verðandi tells me that we are also descendants of yours.”
Rowle nodded. “Yes, one of my granddaughters were both of your ancestors. So that would make me something like your five times great-grandfather. Is it any wonder that I couldn’t bring myself to kill you in all the times I could have?”
Rowle laughed bitterly.
“After refusing to make my grandsons Wanderers, the bitch took three of you in the last fifty years. Do you think she’s trying to make up from letting my grandsons die?”
“I can’t really speak for Verðandi,” I said.
Rowle waved a hand dismissively. “Of course you can’t. No one can speak for that madwoman. Anyway, that’s the story of my leaving Verðandi’s service. Can you blame me?”
“Not for that,” I said. “But you also have killed a lot of good people who didn’t deserve to die any more than your grandsons.”
“Nonsense, each of those who fought me would have killed me if they could. I was a violation of Verðandi’s decrees. Did she tell you that she set each of them in my path?”
I blinked, twice, and frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Each Wanderer’s death at my hands is because they confronted me, not the other way around. I would not have sought them out to attack, even if they weren’t my offspring.”
“But I was there when you killed, or your dragon killed, Walt. You confronted us, not the other way around.”
“Nonsense. I was in an isolated place toying with a kraken, when you and Walt showed up and Walt called me out.”
“That’s not exactly the way I remember it,” I said slowly.
“Do you deny that you were there to answer a summons from Verðandi?”
“No, I don’t, but–”
“Don’t you see, Raphael? She sent you there knowing that there would be a fight and that Walt would be the loser in that fight. It’s always been her doing that has gotten the Wanderers killed.”
“But you could have left without confronting Walt,” I argued.
“Sure, I could have, but how would that have been any different than my two grandsons dying because they retreated? Verðandi plays all of us like pawns.”
“Granted, but we still serve her,” I said.
“How can you, considering all that she’s done?” He raised a hand to indicate Alex. “Even this boy’s dear mother would be alive today if Verðandi had told you soon enough. Isn’t that right?”
I hesitated and glanced toward Alex. He was staring at me with a look that men reserve for sworn enemies.
I turned away from him and back to Rowle. “What did you tell Alex?”
“He didn’t tell me anything, he showed me,” Alex said flatly.
“Showed?” Tess asked.
“Showed me Rafe sticking a sword through my Mother’s chest.”
I winced at his words and I had trouble breathing for a few moments before I could respond. “Alex, I had no choice.”
“Because a shade had possessed her?” he asked.
“Exactly.”
“Then why didn’t you kill me? I was possessed too.”
“Because he couldn’t kill his own son,” Tess snapped. “I wouldn’t let him.”
For the first time, Alex seemed confused. “What? What are you talking about?”
“Look in a mirror, Alex. You are the spitting image of Rafe. You’re his son. When faced with the prospect of killing you he came up with a way to get the shade out of you.”
Alex stared from Tess to me. “If that’s true, then why did he have to kill Mom?”
“Because I hadn’t figured out how to get the shade out of her.” I turned toward Rowle. “Didn’t you tell him that it’s damn near impossible to get a shade out of someone without killing them.”
Rowle met my gaze and then shook his head. “No, I admit I left that
