Nicole Morgan: January 2015

BATTLE CRY by Melissa Snark

Book #2 in the Loki's Wolves series

ISBN (ebook): 978-1-942193-02-9

ISBN (print): 978-1-942193-03-6

ASIN: B00QSPEXZE

Cover Artist: Farah Evers

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Tags: #Fantasy #Amreading #Norse @MelissaSnark

Promo Tweet: One man dares defy the #Norse Fates. BATTLE CRY by Melissa Snark http://goo.gl/wYdv5o #Fantasy #NewRelease #amreading #Kindle

Survival demands sacrifice. Healing requires forgiveness.

After losing her lover and then her mate, Victoria Storm builds a new life in Sierra Pines, California. When the Norse Fates predict the she-wolf will destroy the world to save her unborn child, her duties as Freya’s priestess conflict with her responsibilities as Odin’s Valkyrie.

Sawyer Barrett has hunted Victoria so passionately, he doesn't know whether he loves or hates her. Desperate to end the fighting, he will take chances with everything—except his heart. This hunter harbors a deadly secret he can't reveal without risking the tentative ceasefire and his father’s continued disapproval.

Men revere him; monsters fear him. Jake Barrett—the notorious Hunter King—values loyalty to family above all else. When he believes his eldest son was murdered by a wolf ally, he releases a chain reaction of violent destruction that claims the lives of both wolves and hunters.

An ancient vampire plots the destruction of wolves and hunters alike. If the embittered rivalry doesn't end quickly, there is no hope for the Hunters, Victoria's pack, or the mortal world.

Attribution: Norns weaving destiny, by Arthur Rackham (1912). Public domain.

Short excerpt (PG):
Shadows enshrouded Skuld, and her voice manifested upon the air, thick and oppressive, closing in from all sides. "Your daughter will not grow to adulthood in Midgard."

Victoria's heart slammed against her breastbone. Her breath expelled in a horrified gust. The bowl dropped from her hands which flew to protect her abdomen. "What do you mean?"

"Your daughter will be taken from you on the eve of her third birthday," Skuld said. "The one you trust most, a member of your own pack, will give the child over to your greatest enemy."

A growl trembled in Victoria's throat, and her entire body shook under the dual assault of fear and rage. The suggestion of betrayal from within her own pack filled her with disbelief to the core of her being. It was unthinkable. Gritting her teeth, she sought a solution, refusing to dwell on it. "How am I to prevent this?"

"We speak of what will come to pass," Verðandi said in a sympathetic tone.

"Your predictions are not carved in stone," Victoria said. Arguing with Fate was a foolish endeavor, but she refused to accept their prophecy.

The old woman, Urðr, smiled with a frightening gleam in her eyes. "Predictions, carved into the trunk of the World Tree, carved into the spiritual fabric of the world."

Stubborn determination settled over Victoria like armor. Her mother had taught her there was no absolute fate, just as there was no absolute free will. Life consisted of a wide range of possibilities between the two extremes. She refused to allow her daughter to die at three years of age. She would move worlds, alter fate, slay gods.

Whatever it took.

"Do you wish to save your child?" Skuld asked.

Victoria answered without thought. "Yes. I'll do anything. Tell me. Please."

"The final days are upon us," Verðandi said.

Skuld took over speaking. "To save your daughter, you will side with Loki against the Aesir. You will use your enchanted dagger to cut the binding of the great wolf Fenrir. You will be responsible for freeing the beast that kills Odin."

Victoria's stomach turned. Her head shook in automatic denial. "When the gods imprisoned Fenrir, my people pledged fealty to the Aesir. We have served them loyally ever since. Even when we were driven from the homeland, almost a millennium ago, we remained faithful. I will never cut Fenrir's bonds. To do so would end the world we live in and doom us all."

Skuld's gaze held steady. "You will."

Victoria snarled her denial. "No. I will never become the servant of the Trickster or willingly take part in bringing about Odin's death."

Skuld turned her head and pinned Victoria with one black eye that rolled in its socket like a liquid marble. "To save your daughter, you will."

Long Excerpt (PG):

There stands an ash called Yggdrasil,

A mighty tree showered in hail.

Thence come the dews that fall in the vales.

It stands evergreen 'bove Urd's Well.

From there come women, very wise,

Three from the lake that stands 'neath the pole.

One is called Urðr, another Verðandi,

Skuld the third; they carve into the tree,

Each child's life and destiny.

~Völuspá or "The Insight of the Seeress", Poetic Edda

Urd's Well at the roots of the World Tree

The white wolf ran along the trunk of the great ash tree. Her claws dug into the silvery bark while she descended toward the bottom of the Nine Worlds. Thick gnarled roots radiated from the tree's immense base and then grew thinner. Just beyond, the dark waters of the Well of Urd formed a vast lake spread outward into eternity.

There, destiny awaited: her future and her unborn child's.

Upon reaching the sandy soil, Victoria shifted from her wolf to her human form and walked naked to join the women gathered about the shallow shore. The Norns, the Sisters Wyrd, personified Fate. One a maiden, one mature, the last a crone: Verðandi, Skuld, and Urðr.

At the lakeshore of the Well, the three sisters filled crude wooden bowls with water that nurtured the tree. The youngest sister, the beautiful maiden Verðandi who personified the Present, smiled in greeting. "You visit us again, Victoria Storm."

"As you predicted I would." Victoria spoke with deference. She sought guidance from the Norns and needed to curry their favor.

Skuld, an imposing woman in her middle years and the Future incarnation, labored in ominous silence beside her older sister, Urðr, a gnarled old woman and the Past aspect of Fate.

Without a word, wizened Urðr thrust the bowl she gripped in her bony fingers into Victoria's hands. The vessel, hewn from weathered gray wood, had shallow sides and a broad, flat bottom. Securing a firm hold, Victoria stepped into the lake and grimaced when the frigid cold bit into her flesh. She placed the lip of the bowl to the water and then filled the container to the brim.

Old Urðr said, "The man you loved has died."

Victoria winced. "Yes."

Verðandi's tone softened. "His soul is tormented."

Victoria's foot snagged on a stone, and she stumbled. Water sloshed over the brim and doused her hands. She lost half the contents of the container before she recovered her balance. Her throat worked in a convulsive swallow. "No, you're mistaken. I was there when he died. I saw Daniel's soul cross over."

"I am not mistaken," Verðandi said with genuine sorrow. The youngest Norn stepped away.

Mouth open, Victoria rushed after her, determined to demand the Present Fate provide her with a satisfactory explanation, but the old woman got in her way.

Urðr's lips pulled thin over cracked and yellowed teeth, an expression more grimace than grin. "Your mate has also died, as have so many others. You leave a trail of death in your wake."

"Also true." Fuming with frustration, Victoria followed the Norns to the base of the tree. She walked slowly, placing each step with precision, taking care not to spill another drop.

The three sisters each took a turn watering the roots of the tree. Verðandi acted first, followed by the silent Skuld, and finally Urðr. The eldest persisted in taunting Victoria. "Your love and your mate were not the same man."

Scowling, Victoria bent and poured water on a root until her bowl was empty.

"The past is the past. There is nothing I can do to alter it," she said with determined pragmatism. "I've come to see you because I am pregnant."

Youthful Verðandi clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "You doubt yourself. You drown in sorrow and anger."

Ancient Urðr cackled.

"True enough." Victoria bobbed her head once. Her temper roiled beneath ironclad self-control. She had no patience for delays, no use for games. She wanted answers.

Shadows enshrouded Skuld, and her voice manifested upon the air, thick and oppressive, closing in from all sides. "Your daughter will not grow to adulthood in Midgard."