The Survivors: Point of Origin (book 2)

Fateor

             

 

We ran back to Paris where we could catch a train that ran under the English Channel. It had taken only six hours to run the 1,200 miles between Bucharest and Paris, sticking to rural, roundabout routes so we wouldn't be seen, but we were slowed down when we had to resort to human methods of travel in the more populated areas. Once in London, we took a train to the far suburbs above the city. Then, once in the countryside, the nosferatu could take their lynx form again and we could run.

 

The sun dipped near the horizon by the time we met up with the Winters. I was reminded of the eerie hours of darkness that clung to Moscow. I had lost all track of time by then.

 

            We came upon them in a grassy plain just north of Pickering where Valentin, Narcisa, and Parker morphed back into their human forms. Ginny had heard us first, her senses awakened by my proximity. I could sense that she was wary of my companions.

 

            "How unexpected," Patrick called as he spotted us in the distance. As if to declare his party's sentiments, he walked straight up to Valentin and shook his hand. The gesture seemed out of place here among this group who'd recently tried to kill each other.

 

            "Patrick," Valentin nodded. "Good to see you, I think."

 

            "Sadie?" Everett asked, looking for an explanation.

 

            "They found me in Romania. They've gotten word of the war, and they've come to help," I explained, refusing to ask anyone's permission for Narcisa, Valentin, and Parker to join us.

 

            "Do we need help?" he said under his breath. I ignored him. When was spring? Or, more accurately, weather warm enough to make him stop acting like this?

 

            "I'm sorry. I'm being rude," I said, reaching for Parker and pulling her toward me. "Parker, I'm sure you remember the Winters, but since you've never officially met, allow me to introduce you. This is Patrick, the eldest, and his wife, Madeline. Everett is with me, his sister, Ginny, and the youngest, craziest of the lot, Mark," I said as I went around the group.

 

            She nodded to each, acknowledging. She was fidgety and fingered the monarch pendant.

 

            "What have you got for us?" I asked, eager to get down to business.

 

            Patrick said. "We thought you may be best at figuring it out. We were following a draugr from Norway—"

 

            I cut him off. "A what?"

 

            "A draugr," he said. "The draugar are Scandinavian vampires that hunt other dead—okay, well, not living— things."

 

            "Like vieczy," I said, understanding. "Wait, is it draugr or draugar?"

 

            "Both. Draugr singular. Draugar plural," Patrick clarified. "Well, we got into it," he said, sheepishness in his voice. Of course, if Patrick had an excuse, he'd get into a fight with anything. "They are known for their strength, so Madeline and I had a hard time fighting him off. They can also sink through earth, so you can't corner them. If you back them against a stone wall, they'd just sink through it and come back at you from the other side. He took off. We found him about fifty miles north of here, and followed him here."