Fearless Warrior: Isaacson Trilogy Book Two

27

From Ulric's tone, whatever Esmund was about to see wasn't going to be good, and he tried to brace himself accordingly, but nothing could have prepared him for the wave of despair and loneliness that hit when he turned the corner at the rear of the building.

Dizziness assailed him as he stared at the bloodstained snow with a clear indentation of where a body had fallen.

A torn scrap of coral-peach material from Elsie's dress fluttered from the rusty nail jutting out from the corner of the building. Esmund plucked the scrap free and crumpled to his knees as tears stung his eyes and blurred his vision.

Elsie was dead. It all made perfect sense now—why she hadn't answered him, the sense of warning and anxiety he'd felt earlier. Like a fool, he'd believed the emotions were related to the scene he'd witnessed out the window when, in reality, Elsie had been in danger.

What was he supposed to do now? He clutched the material in a tight fist and closed his eyes against the emotions threatening to explode. Who had killed her and why? Was it Montclair? It didn't matter because their days were numbered regardless of who or why they'd done it. He'd hunt them down and exact his revenge.

Ulric shook Esmund's shoulder, "Are you listening to me? Did you hear anything I just said?"

Esmund shook his head, "No...what'd you say?"

Ulric crouched down next to him, "Why do you look like you're planning a funeral?"

"Look around you," Esmund growled. "Are you not seeing what I'm seeing?"

Ulric rolled his eyes and stood, "Don't tell me you've got her dead and buried already?"

"She is dead."

"So sure of that, are you?" Ulric crossed his arms over his chest, "How do you know?"

Esmund wiped at the moisture on his face as he stood and stuffed the coral scrap in his pocket, "Because I can't sense her—it's as if she never even existed. There's only a dark, widening void of agony."

"Good grief, you're overdramatic," Ulric muttered with a shake of his head. "I can think of several instances where Gunnar and I haven't been able to sense one another, yet we have both proven to be alive and well. Will you ignore this 'dark, widening void of agony' and take in the clues around you?"

He walked over to the far edge of the pool of blood and pointed, "Several sets of footprints lead," he walked the length of the building, "to here."

Esmund studied Ulric. "What if you're wrong?"

"I'm not. I believe they're both still alive."

"But," Esmund stressed. "What if you're wrong?"

Ulric shrugged, unconcerned, "Then you may punch me in the face with my blessing."

One thing rang true out of everything else. Ulric had far more experience with sensing or these types of connections with another person. Esmund should believe—no, needed to believe Elsie was alive until proven otherwise. But, if she were dead, a punch in the face would be the least of Ulric's problems.

Following the path of footprints over to where Ulric stood, Esmund found a grouping of hoof prints that fanned out and headed north. Esmund followed the tracks several feet and crouched when a splash of color caught his eye. He ran his hand over the area and looked at his fingers. "There's more blood over here."

"They couldn't have gone far," Ulric said, running toward the front. "I'll get the horses." A few seconds later, he slid to a stop, "Neeners, what the hell are you doing here?"

"We were told you were back here, and I had a feeling you'd want these two." With Nora sitting behind, Gunnar led Toots to Ulric and smiled, "You'd think after all we've experienced together, seeing me appear when you least expect it would lose all of its surprise." He handed over the reins and clucked his tongue, "You almost succeeded in ruining my wedding night."