Like Victor, she thought.
That glint only flashed for a second but it screamed blue-white and too bright.
Wrenn scrunched her eyes closed and looked away.
“Are you okay?” a deep, resonant male voice said.
She looked to the side, down the trail that led into the trees.
He stood there, the man who had to be Frank Victorsson. He was huge and wide at the shoulders and more muscular than she’d expected. He wore jeans and a blue jacket with “Gullinbursti Reclamations” embroidered over his left pec. He had on a knit cap much like Ed’s too, but this one had some sort of fighting squirrel mascot in the center instead of an Alfheim County Sheriff insignia.
He extended his hand. “Frank,” he said as he walked up onto the deck. “You must be Wrenn.”
He was classically handsome, with a strong jaw and fiery maroon eyes. A tattoo on the side of his face covered scars, but they weren’t even that distracting. The tattoo looked to be Yggdrasil, and shimmered with elven magic.
He wasn’t eight feet tall—more likely seven.
Every single one of the exaggerations, the lies, the manipulations Victor had told her were in that foot of difference. Frank Victorsson had a house full of children. Friends, too, and a lot of elven family. This man was not a monster, nor was he brutish and terrifying.
He smiled and jammed his hands into his pockets. “Is this as awkward for you as it is for me?” He looked out at the lake. “Two hundred years and I had no idea you’d survived.”
Hands that had a dusting of magic around them. She peered at his shoulders. And there, too, the same dust shimmered in the sunlight.
His face screwed up in a clear indication that he was annoyed by someone or something. “Victor told you I was a monster, didn’t he?”
“He told me you tried to drown me to force him to make me your mate.”
Frank’s face scrunched up into something more angry than annoyed indignation. Wrenn wondered if he realized how easily others could read his emotions.
“I saved that young girl from drowning,” he said. “He blamed me for his friend’s death. There was a boat.” He looked up at the sky. “He told me that I didn’t deserve a companion. That I was unlovable and horrific. Then he showed me… parts… that were supposed to be you.” He sighed.
“Your mate,” she said.
“What?” He looked genuinely confused. “Oh! You see the mate magic, don’t you?” He grinned. “Don’t worry. It’s not for you.”
He closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them, he was looking up and to the left. Then the grin turned into the smile of someone in love.
“You look relieved.” He leaned a bit toward her as if sharing a secret. “It’d be weird, anyway. It’s been two hundred years.” He nodded knowingly. “Besides, I’ve always thought of you as the sister I never had, no matter what Victor thought.”
Was she relieved? Happy? Sad? She had no idea.
Out front, Benta’s truck started up.
“Benta’s leaving?” Wrenn said.
“She’s taking Sal in,” Frank said. “The elves need her to see if they can crack the fae enchantments on that sword the kelpie left behind. Sal went crazy this morning. Started yelling ‘How dare they!’ and about how she would ‘take care of the fae threat.’ We figured it would be best to keep her away from you for now.”
“Is Sal another elf?”
Frank laughed. “She’s an axe.” He scratched at the side of his head. “And a bit possessive.”
They stood there for a long moment, neither saying anything. Both watched the lake.
Frank scratched at the tattoo on the side of his face. “Victor Frankenstein had a lot of romantic stupidity in his head. He thought he was entitled to dance along the threshold between the living and the dead.” He pointed toward the lake. “He got angry when he came face to face with the consequences of his actions.” He sighed. “That anger turned to madness, didn’t it?”
She nodded yes.
“The only information we found were letters written by a ship captain. We all thought he’d died shortly after I left him on the ice. I didn’t learn otherwise until last month.” He watched her face for a moment as if trying to read her emotions. “We’re not his only creations,” he said.
Was she really one of Victor’s creations? She was. Did it matter?
“I watched him behead Victor,” she said.
His mouth rounded. “I am sorry.” He rubbed the top of his hat. “If I’d known, I would have come back.” His face said that coming back wouldn’t have been feasible two hundred years ago. Yet here he was feeling guilty.
“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?” she said.
He motioned her toward the table. “Yes, we do.”
They walked toward the house and the seating. He pulled out a chair for her and offered a seat. “Here.”
How was it that she’d allowed Victor so much real estate in her head all these years? This man wasn’t a monster.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “Sister.”
Wrenn reached out and took his hand. Why, she didn’t know. They’d just met. But for the first time in maybe her entire life, she truly exhaled. She did have family, and not unwanted intrusions into her life from Victor Frankenstein’s ghost. “Brother.”
The smile he gave her said it all. “Welcome to Alfheim,” he said. “Where do we start?”
Chapter 32
Mr. Frank and Ms. Wrenn were still talking outside in the cold when Mr. Lennart took Gabe and Sophia to their house to get clothes. They were going to stop and pick up dinner at Raven’s Gaze, and Gabe was sure Lennart and Bjorn were angry about something to do with the restaurant, but Lennart wasn’t particularly specific.
Gabe didn’t ask. He’d had enough of magic for a while.
Lennart took a suitcase into Mateo’s room and Gabe and Sophia went into theirs. They were to get
