Death in the Night
Legacy Book 2
Allyson Lindt
This book is a work of fiction.
While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Allyson Lindt
All Rights Reserved
ISBN: 9781949986358
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Manufactured in the United States of America
Acelette Press
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Death in the Night (Legacy, #2)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
About the Author
For my eternal dragon
Chapter One
Kirby had learned a lot over the years of training to be an assassin. At the top of that list was how predictable people were.
As she sat in a dark room with four other people, light from valley below the house on the hill streamed through the window. Mark was outside, and responsible for the power going out. She had no doubt.
Brit said she’d killed her former partner. However, despite there being two shootings in the city in the last few days, and him supposedly being one of them, a body hadn’t been found. And she hadn’t seen any blood after shooting him at point blank range in the chest.
Half a dozen scenarios ran through Kirby’s head around what Mark’s next move would be. Like so many other people, he was usually easy to read. Most things he encountered were for fucking, tormenting, or killing. And frequently, all of the above.
The lights flickered on when the backup generator kicked in.
“He’s next to the house. Possibly inside.” Kirby turned off the bedroom lights. No reason to make everyone a more obvious target through the windows.
“Perhaps the power simply went out.” Min didn’t sound like he believed his own words.
Kirby nodded at the window, and the lights glowing brightly from street lamps and other homes. “Yeah, no.”
“He waited until we were all in the same room,” Brit said.
That made sense. TOM had tech that allowed the user to see silhouettes through walls. Kirby didn’t understand the science behind it, besides knowing it was radio-wave driven rather than thermal or infra-red. The how didn’t matter. Mark’s hunting them did.
“We have to act under the assumption he’s already inside the security-camera perimeter.” Starkad, her mentor and keeper, was thinking along the same lines she was. He pulled Min and Gwydion closer to the interior walls.
Kirby and Brit had already taken a similar position.
“We need to split up and fan out. He can’t follow all of us at once.” Kirby always had the final say in on-mission strategies. A combination of instinct and intensive training had yet to steer her wrong.
“If we leave people here, they become the primary target,” Starkad said.
Which was perfect. Stationary people, especially those Mark had already spotted, were easiest to go after. He’d want to cut numbers down quickly, to increase his odds. He probably had no idea at least sixty percent of his targets were immortal. Was Kirby? She was a Valkyrie. Had recovered her wings and magical armor. She’d also regained memories of past lives, where she’d done the same and died anyway, so her survival here wasn’t guaranteed.
“Unless he secured something new in the last six hours, he only has frag grenades, his M5, and probably a Desert Eagle .40.” Brit ticked off the short list on her fingers.
He’d draw too much attention if he used the gear in the same city where it was purchased, even through back-channel sources. So he wouldn’t have restocked.
Unless Mark wasn’t thinking this through the same way they were. Just because he was looking to kill them didn’t mean he’d do it by the book.
Kirby touched Min’s arm. “You’re a non-combatant?”
“Always.”
Her memories had that right. If they really were her memories. With everything going on, the onslaught she suffered earlier seemed surreal. “Stay with Brit,” she said to Min. Mark didn’t have the ability to take down the god of passion. She met Gwydion’s gaze next. “Your call if you’d rather stay inside or join the hunt. If you remain, we need you in a different room.” He had military training, had been an army doctor, so she trusted him to know how to lay low.
“Give me a weapon.” Gwydion’s voice was steel.
“Hey.” Brit bit off the word.
Kirby finally turned to her. With the outside light falling over her pale skin and light hair, Brit looked ghostly beautiful.
Not that Kirby cared. “What?”
“You’re not leaving me huddled in a corner, waiting to die. I’m never hiding from that asshole again. Give me a fucking gun.”
“No.” Gwydion spoke before Kirby could. “I may not have wanted to see you in pain, but you’ve tried to kill people in this room.”
“Person. Who is apparently immortal. In fact, I’m probably the only one here who can die.” She focused on Kirby. “But if I’m not, I won’t lose you a third time. Not to that prick or anyone.”
A fist clenched around Kirby’s heart, despite her resolve to not care. Brit had tried to apologize for her past betrayals, but the things she’d said about Kirby way back when, they way Brit hung her out to dry... Those weren’t the types of actions that were easily forgiven, and would never be forgotten.
“We’re wasting time,” Starkad barked. “Give her a gun. Fan out, staggered radial. North. South. East. West.” He pointed to each of them as he handed out directions. “Brit and I will go clockwise. Kirby and Gwydion counter.” He placed a finger under Kirby’s chin, to raise her head and hold her gaze. “No assumptions. No bullshit.”
She clenched her jaw, to bite back her retort. He was warning her to not be reckless or assume her immortality was complete or infallible. She nodded and jerked away from him, both touched that he cared and irritated he thought she’d be anything other than cautious. Then again, it had been a messy past few days.
They left Min in the middle of the house, in a pantry with multiple exits and winding hallways and counters between it and the outside entrances. If Mark chose to pursue him, it would cost him valuable time with no payoff.
Kirby headed toward her assignment, hugging the house tight with the first pass. With the tech Mark had, he couldn’t tell who was who—only that there were so many bodies. Brit and Min were easy to spot in a group, with their varied height. But once the group split up, there was no good way for Mark to identify a specific person. He’d have to pick a specific target to pursue, and that meant leaving his back unguarded.
Kirb
y crept through the darkness, her senses on full alert. She hugged the house tight with her first circle. Why wasn’t he here? The reason to take out the power would be to creep inside the perimeter of the cameras, but he hadn’t.
He was drawing them out on purpose, and they were letting him. Fuck. Too late to change plans now. Apparently her instinct could fail her.
She’d been reckless in the hotel, storming out. Picking up strangers in the bar. This was real. This could be deadly. And it was as much a mission as any she’d ever been on. When she found Mark, she was putting a bullet in his fucking brain. Unlike her other former classmates, he didn’t have the right to ask for absolution.
The land behind the house was sweeping lawn that led to a drop-off down the side of the mountain. She stuck to the sparse brush and trees. It’d be nice to have a more controlled environment for her first real foray into am I actually immortal? Fate had never really favored her in that regard, though. Not in this life, and if her new memories were to be believed, not in any of the previous ones.
The crickets chirped. The traffic below was at a low roar. There were no sounds out of place.
Something small and hard pressed into the small of her back. “What does it take to make you stay dead?” Mark asked in a low growl.
How did he sneak up on her? Her stomach plummeted into her shoes. “I’d tell you, but... No, wait. I’m going to kill you either way.” She didn’t want to shout and draw the attention of the neighbors, but she didn’t whisper either, hoping Starkad was within hearing range. Her cool demeanor was a façade, and it didn’t push aside the wave of memories of every time Mark had backed her into a corner and groped her. Bruised her in practice. Reminded her she didn’t do anything in that fucking school without his leave.
“You only ever had to comply. The way Brit did. The three of us would have been good together,” Mark said.
Kirby didn’t want to hear the words or his familiar voice. The combination tugged at years of terror she thought she’d moved past. He’ll die tonight, by my hand. She forced the assurance to repeat in her mind, but it didn’t provide comfort. “Do you really believe that?” It was an obvious question to keep him talking, but it was what she had while she thought through her options.
“Brit was happy with me. Didn’t threaten me. Didn’t push me away. She knew how I felt, until she saw you again. You ruined it all.”
Delusional fucker. Kirby had no doubt that he’d shoot if she turned too quickly. And she didn’t have any illusions about being faster than his trigger finger. Could she survive a bullet to the spine? Was she willing to bet on her immortality, to get the drop on him? She was willing to die if it meant never hearing his voice or feeling his touch again.
A gunshot rang through the night and in her ears, leaving a high-pitched whine in her head. Did he pull the trigger? She didn’t feel anything. She would have at least felt a nudge, wouldn’t she?
“I couldn’t stand you, you fucking sociopath.” Brit’s voice came from behind.
Kirby knew what she’d see before she turned, but she had to look. Ambivalence speared her at the sight of Mark’s lifeless body on the ground. Blood flowed from his skull, darker than the night. He was gone. Actually gone. She was seeing it with her own eyes.
But she didn’t get to pull the trigger. She almost felt cheated. When she looked at Brit, any response lodged in her throat. They stared at each other, then at the body, and at each other again. It felt like an eternity, but it was only a second or two.
“Thank the gods you’re all right.” Starkad’s voice penetrated Kirby’s thoughts.
She couldn’t pull her gaze from Brit.
“I need a cleanup. One body in the yard. K street. There was gunfire. He’s the suspect in the last two days’ events.” That was Min. Who was he talking to?
Kirby needed to move. This wasn’t the worst possible time for her instincts and training to fail her, but it was close.
“Kirby. We’re going now.” The urgency in Starkad’s voice finally jarred her into action.
She shut off her emotions with one final push of disgust. “Exit options?”
“Can we leave the guns?” Brit’s mind must be whirring along the same act now, feel later path.
“Drop them,” Min said.
Kirby and Brit were trained for combat logistics, but they didn’t handle clean-up. That was someone else’s specialty. But Kirby did have enough sense to not take orders from random gods, regardless of what a good lay they were. Whether or not she trusted Min wasn’t the question. He wasn’t a combatant, and she wasn’t familiar with his modern skills outside the bedroom.
She looked at Starkad, who nodded. “His info is good.”
Kirby dropped her weapon, and Brit did the same. They followed Starkad and Min, away from the sirens that were growing louder.
“What about Gwydion?” Kirby didn’t like the idea of leaving him behind. The cold fear that slid under her skin at the idea of something happening to him was unfamiliar and terrifying.
“He’s got this—terrified neighbor who found a dead body.” Starkad rested a hand on the small of her back.
Heat rushed through her, joining the jumble that was her wreck of an emotional state.
“Stay with Min. Brit is with me,” Starkad said. “We have a rendezvous point. Min will give you details.” He squeezed her hand once and cut in a different direction.
The gesture couldn’t have been more heartfelt if he’d wrapped his arm around her waist and given her a deep, long, goodbye kiss. She hated to see him go, but for as much as she still didn’t trust Brit, there were no two people Kirby felt more capable of having each other’s backs than Brit and Starkad.
“A dear friend is picking us up,” Min said as they strolled at a casual pace down the sidewalk. “He knows who you are, and I trust him.”
She barely knew Min, aside from a clusterfuck of memories she wasn’t convinced belonged to her. She was only here now because Starkad said it was safe. Trust didn’t trickle down the same way. With her hair dyed, the darkness, and Gwydion’s cap pulled low on her head, she wasn’t easily identifiable, and that was a sliver of comfort.
As they walked through the night, emergency vehicles gathered at the house behind them. A black Porsche Cayenne that would have been pompous in a less affluent neighborhood pulled up next to them. The tension coiling inside Kirby couldn’t crank higher.
The passenger window rolled down, and the man in the front seat leaned over. He looked to be in his mid-thirties. Was he really, or was he another god? Great. Kirby didn’t have enough to question in her every-day life. Now she was also wondering who around her would live forever.
A memory nudged its way forward. She knew this man. He’d been with Min, both in L.A. and after World War II. Immortal, at least. His name was... on the tip of her tongue. She couldn’t grasp it from her jumbled thoughts.
“You called?” His tone was conversational.
Min smiled and stepped closer. “Daz. Thank you for being available.”
“Always. Are you ready?”
Kirby swore she heard a hint of affection in the man’s voice. That matched her memories too. Daz adored Min.
“We are.” Min opened the back door and gestured Kirby toward it.
She settled into the second row of seats, surprised and a little relieved when Min took the spot next to her. Past Kirbys didn’t have any bad memories of Daz—not that were easily accessible—but she didn’t feel comfortable discussing business in front of him. The way he glanced at her in the rear view mirror sent unease rolling through her.
They pulled onto the main road, and Daze maneuvered them farther from the spot where Mark’s body lay.
He was dead. Never getting up. Never coming after her again. He’d thought the same of her, but she saw it with her own eyes. He was really gone.
The relief still didn’t flow through her like she expected. This was a dark chapter of her life closed, and she was dwelling on the fact that she wasn�
��t the one to carry out Mark’s execution. After what Brit had told her though, Kirby didn’t begrudge her the shot.
None of that quieted the screams for vengeance that echoed in her skull. Hopefully, as she moved away from threat of being caught, the tension would ebb and she could put this behind her.
“Huntress?” Min’s breath teased her skin, as he pushed the loud whisper into her ear. “Are you here?”
She shook off the cobwebs of doubt. “Yes.”
“Good. You need to change.” He spoke in hushed tones. “If anyone outside of this car asks, you’re my hired escort for the evening. I’m sorry.”
She studied him in the dim light as they drove, the outside lamps splashing over his face and accentuating handsome, dark features. “For what?”
“You shouldn’t have to demean yourself like that.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder and turned her mouth toward his ear. “I’m already a whore. I earn my living committing immoral acts. At least getting paid for sex is honest work.”
Min raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. He reached behind the seats, grabbed a duffel bag, and handed it to her. “Old clothes go in here. Hat too, I’m afraid.”
Her pout slipped out without her permission. Was she actually emotionally attached to a ball cap from a guy she barely knew?
“He’s got dozens. I promise you. We’ll stop at a gas station, so you can change.”
Kirby had already stripped off her shoes and was shoving off her jeans. “Why? Daz, if naked women bother you, keep your eyes on the road.” She had a hard time fathoming that anyone who had associated with Min for this long had a problem with nudity or the human form. But Kirby swore she heard a light sigh from him. She tugged on the barely-there lace panties and bra from the stack she’d removed from the bag, and shoved her old outfit inside. The last thing in her pile of new clothing was a gold satin dress.
“Not exactly subtle.” Which was perfect. She pulled it over her head. If she couldn’t blend into the crowd, she needed to be the person no one wanted to make eye contact with. This was another, far more expensive, grade of the homeless costume she wore during missions.
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