Hexed

stick I’d picked up before heading out of the cave, I worked my way across the expanse. I had one thing in my favor: Because of my small stature, my center of gravity was low and it was less likely I would fall than if I’d been of average size.
    The wind blew something fierce, and I watched as the clouds raced across the sky, sending the snow into a sideways whirl. The flakes were small and they stung against the exposed flesh on my face, but the scarf I’d wound around my neck and over my mouth kept the worst of them at bay. I stopped for a moment and wiped my eyes against the glare of the snow as it threatened to blind me, then continued on.
    Where would I find Vikkommin? Would he be hiding? Would I have to chase him out? The Skirts of Hel flanked an opening higher on the mountainside, a cavern in which I did not want to go because it was rumored to be an opening to the Underworld, and here, that very well might be right.
    As the morning wore on, I looked back. Now the Pack’s headquarters was a distant blur against the mountain, but I had the feeling someone was watching me—and it didn’t feel like Vikkommin. Camille and the others would be awake by now, but I hoped they would heed my wishes and not come after me. Whatever I had to do, I didn’t want them to interfere.
    A little farther on, I stopped, gazing up the mountainside. Without even realizing it, I’d come to the center of the Skirts of Hel and was standing right below the cavern, which seemed to have a very small opening. But the energy from the cave blasted down the mountain to send me reeling, and I doubled over, my stomach wrenched in a thousand directions.
    Truly, a gate to the Underworld. Truly, the Gates of Hel.
    A single note inside began to quiver and ring through my body, forcing me higher on the slope. I began to crawl up the mountain on hands and knees, because the energy was impossible to deny and impossible to wade through while standing. One foot at a time, I headed toward the cavern, and now I could hear something calling my name.
    Pirkitta . . . Pirkitta . . . Pirkitta . . . It’s time for you to come back to me . . .
    I froze. Vikkommin. That was Vikkommin’s voice from down below. I whirled, turning as the shadow embraced me, rushing up the side of the mountain. Within seconds, he was around me, a thick cloud, his energy filling every pore in my body, and as I forced myself to my feet I realized that Vikkommin had been waiting for me, and he was happy to see me.
     
    “VIKKOMMIN, WHAT ARE you doing? What do you want?” I tried to keep myself focused on the reason for my journey, but the feel of his life force was like heady wine. I realized just how much I’d missed him—so much more than I remembered. The meeting was like fire to a match, like magnets long parted.
    Pirkitta, you’ve come back to me. You’ve come to join me.
    “No, no, I can’t join . . .” My voice drifted off. Could it be that Vikkommin still loved me? That he forgave me for what happened? Maybe I hadn’t killed him. Maybe he was telling me in his own way . . .
    Come with me. You don’t know the power I have now, my sweet flower. My little concubine. You were my match. We can be matched again, in death as in life. And he surrounded me, a shadow taking form, his arms embracing me—his body made of smoke.
    I dropped my head back, leaning into the billowing shadow that held me fast. His embrace felt so good and I remembered the nights we’d spent together, nights of passion and fire, nights of tasting love’s delights, the nights where we’d made plans to rule the Order: wise, benevolent rulers, full of love and lust and magic to shake the mountains.
    Remember . . . remember what we had . . .
    Trying to shake my head clear, I brought my attention back. “Vikkommin, I need to know—I need to know what happened that night. I need to know if . . . if . . .”
    If you killed me? If you turned me into what I am now, my sweet sprite?
    “Yes. Please, tell me . . . I can’t remember.”
    And then, Vikkommin pulled me back into his arms and he was kissing me, his shadow so strong I couldn’t break away. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to. But then I saw a gleam—his shadow form had eyes as black as night and they were sparkling with the strength of a thousand dark suns.
    Oh my sweet one, you most certainly did kill me. You tore me to shreds. You are most assuredly a murderess, and now you will spend the rest of your days with me, for I am going