Reluctant Berserker: Isaacson Trilogy Book One

Chapter 20

His mind was in turmoil, making Nora's attempts at conversation pointless. It was hard to believe that only an hour ago, his biggest worry was whether or not her Berserker would accept him. If things went badly, he may never find the answer to that question.

He returned Nora to the inn, offering a mumbled apology for the morning events, and then rode to the sheriff's office to meet up with his brothers.

Dismounting, he looped his reins over the hitching rail next to Frisky and Toots. Gunnar ground his teeth, removed his hat, and ran his hand through his hair, but there was no point stalling. He settled his hat firmly atop his head and marched to the door. The echo of his footfalls on the wooden boardwalk became a death toll in his ears. Whatever lay before them was bound to end badly—irrevocably changing their lives forever.

Ulric would say he was overdramatic, allowing his displeasure of having to be involved once more to taint the situation, and perhaps it was, but he couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of doom that settled like a weight in his gut. Death circled them, pondering which member of his family it would take before this business was over.

The warped and weathered wood of the door to the sheriff's office stared him in the face when he settled his palm upon the twisted handle, struggling to find the courage to turn it and step inside. Muffled voices could be heard from within but cut off abruptly.

Taking a deep breath, Gunnar moved to push the door open, surprised when it was ripped from his grasp by his father, who stood before him inside the office.

"Morning, sunny boy...I was worried the door might be jammed." He stepped out onto the boardwalk and closed the door behind him. "Uh-I wanted to talk to you before we join the others."

Gunnar watched his father warily, wracking his brain, trying to think of what he might have done to warrant a private talk. "What about?"

Vernon was quiet for a minute, then said, "What were you and Nora doing earlier today...?"

He heard the subtle change in his father's voice and cringed. No matter how desperately he tried to keep them, secrets had a way of leaping free of his mouth, against his will, when that particular inflection was employed. "What do you mean?"

"Ulric said he found the two of you together in the woods."

One day soon, he would have to talk with Ulric about his propensity to blabber. "W-we...were talking."

"Mm-hmm," He studied Gunnar for a moment, then said, "Have I ever told you what happened the day I first saw your mother?"

Gunnar blinked and shook his head.

"It was back when using mushrooms was common practice, a few years before berries became the preferred method. The effects of the mushroom could last for days, fueled by any bloodshed, drawing it out sometimes into weeks of berserkering." He paused and then met Gunnar's expectant gaze. "Your mother was passing through a field of wildflowers on her way into town—chattering to herself as she tends to do. I was returning from a particularly bloody week of work on the trails—a band of outlaws had been terrorizing several of the nearby settlements. I could have killed her."

He studied his father, his eyes widening in surprise when he noticed a blush staining his cheeks. Understanding dawned on him. "You claimed her."

"Yes, surprised the devil out of her and myself, if I'm honest." A smile bent Vernon's lips; his gaze held a faraway gleam. "The minute I saw her, I felt this wonderful sort of rumble in my chest...heard a voice tell me she was mine—the next thing I knew, she was in my arms, and I was kissing her." He sighed with a smirk.

Several minutes passed before Gunnar asked, "And then?"

"And then she slapped me and kissed me again. We've been happy ever since," Vernon said with a chuckle.