Bile rose in Brit’s throat, and she swallowed the desire to vomit on him. She wasn’t going through this again.
He drew within arm’s reach.
She pushed past the haze and the pain, grabbed his gun from his holster, and shot him. She emptied the magazine into his chest and head, still squeezing the trigger after she ran out of bullets.
He was gone this time. Unlike when she’d shot him and neglected to check. Bits of him stuck to the comforter and the walls.
Brit needed to get out of here before someone called the police. Darkness flooded in, and her world faded to black.
“Afternoon, Sleeping Beauty.”
The creeping hints of madness echoed in Brit’s skull, threatening to tear from her throat, and she turned to look at Mark.
Chapter Twenty-One
Kirby landed on her back on the ground, staring up at the sky. She couldn’t move, but she hadn’t been in control of her body since she arrived. One second she’d been on the sidewalk next to Starkad, Gwydion, and Aeval, and the next she was standing behind Brit in the gourmet cake shop.
It didn’t matter that Kirby knew these events had already transpired; she said and did everything exactly like she originally had.
Up until Brit shot her.
“The fuck?” Mark’s voice chilled her. He was supposed to be dead. “Nice job. Drop her gun. We need to go now.”
Kirby tried to turn her head to look at him. She couldn’t. There was a gaping hole in her, and she didn’t feel any of it. The one thing that hurt was the look on Brit’s face when she shot Kirby.
“No,” Brit said.
Mark’s arm moved into view. “Excuse me?”
More gunshots rang out. Someone would hear. Why weren’t there people running back here? She saw the splash of clothing and color, as Mark fell past her line of sight. Though she didn’t feel it, she knew he lay on the ground next to her.
This wasn’t right. Kirby had lived through this. Gwydion had found her a few minutes later. And Mark had choked her out. Brit was too hurt to shoot her. Was sorry she hadn’t done more. Had tried in her own way to earn Kirby’s forgiveness since.
Kirby’s world went black, and she was standing behind Brit again. “Hello, partner,” Kirby whispered in Brit’s ear, pressing into her from behind. “It’s been too long.”
It didn’t matter how many times the scene replayed, Kirby couldn’t make herself act differently. She was confined to the same actions with each repeat. Sometimes Brit shot her first. Sometimes Mark strangled her, and then Brit planted a bullet in her head or chest.
Kirby died over and over. At least, unlike with her past lives, she didn’t feel the pain of dying. But she felt Brit’s loathing. The hatred and disgust that hung in her gaze, every time she looked at Kirby.
After a dozen times, Kirby lost count. There must have been more than a hundred in total. Thousands? Why was this happening? Who had thrown her into this nightmare?
Still Brit’s sneering face looked down on her after each death.
Why did Kirby let her live? Why did she think Brit could ever atone? Brit didn’t care about Kirby, beyond proving that Brit was better. And now she had.
Mark approached, as Kirby held Brit prisoner. With a sweep of his feet under hers, Kirby was on her back again, this time without a bullet hole in her. He wedged a knee between her legs and pressed a hand to her throat. “The three of us would have been good together.”
Brit was supposed to shoot him now. Kirby didn’t care if she got blood and brains on her. She couldn’t move. This wasn’t supposed to happen this way.
Mark ripped at her shirt, leaving her exposed, as he leered down at her.
A sob welled in Kirby’s throat. Why couldn’t she fight back? Why was Brit just watching?
He tore at her jeans, ripping them away. Denim didn’t shred that way—like paper. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.
Did Brit hate her so much that she was just going to stand there?
Kirby reached as deep as she could, digging inside to wake up from this twisted fucking dream. She grasped something else. The same thing she’d found when Hel pinned her to the pillar.
That seemed like an eternity ago.
Kirby could see Mark’s holster. The idiot had left his gun unsecured, like he always did. The douchenozzle thought he was impervious. A mental yell echoed in her head, as she forced her fingers to move. Just a twitch.
He didn’t see, but Brit’s gaze drifted to Kirby’s hand.
Kirby didn’t care. The invisible restraints shattered. She grabbed Mark’s gun, leveled it off, and squeezed the trigger.
As he slumped, she rolled, came up on one knee, and aimed at Brit. She wasn’t fast enough—Brit had a bead on her.
The gunshot echoed in Kirby’s ears, and she landed on her back. Again. Staring at the sky, unable to move.
The cake shop vanished. About fucking time.
Kirby strained to hold onto the control she’d captured moments earlier.
“I’m proud of you.” That was Hel.
Kirby’s world swirled into view, and she was in Hel’s office at the academy.
Hel wasn’t talking to her, though.
Brit strolled past, as if Kirby wasn’t there. “I told you, I only want to serve you. Whatever it takes to prove my loyalty.”
“And you have.” Hel cradled Brit’s cheek. “You’ve done so very well.”
BRIT STOOD IN FRONT of Hel, hundreds of iterations of the showdown in Salt Lake clashing in her head. This was reality. She had no doubt. Now that she was conscious, she recognized that the fucked up Groundhog’s Day was Hel’s trial. Killing Kirby over and over was Brit’s proof that she could turn against the one person she loved, to serve Hel.
“How long has it been?” Brit needed to fill in the blanks, to solidify herself in the real world. It felt like months had passed.
“For you? Weeks. But only a few seconds to the rest of the world.” Hel studied her.
Fear should be raging inside, but Brit was numb. Killing Mark over and over, only to have him come back, had shredded her stomach. Shooting Kirby repeatedly destroyed her heart. Whatever gave her the presence of mind to do so... That was an instinct she didn’t want to touch ever again. If she thought she hated herself before, it was nothing compared to now.
Kirby’s cold, lifeless eyes would haunt Brit for the rest of her life. If she was lucky, that wouldn’t be much longer.
Her terror of Hel was gone, though. Brit had sampled damnation, and there was no physical pain that could be worse.
“You did the one thing Kirby never did.” Hel’s tone was kind.
“What’s that?”
Hel smiled. “You killed Mark. I waited for so long, for her to take that initiative. To destroy that part of her torment. She was too weak.”
“You let him walk around, in the hopes that someone would murder him?”
“Specifically Kirby.”
Brit should be angry about that, but it wasn’t a surprise. “Why?”
“There were aspects of her that needed to be broken. And they were, just not in the way I hoped. When Starkad took her out of here, we thought we’d pushed too hard. But she was dead. If we couldn’t break her—make her ours—at least the threat was removed.”
Now Brit was angry. It was almost enough to shatter her mask. “Oh?”
Hel shrugged. “It doesn’t matter any longer. You changed everything. You’re so much stronger than she is, and it’s a shame you weren’t born with her gifts.”
Brit wouldn’t get sucked into the praise she’d longed to hear for more than a decade. This was the recognition she’d always wanted, and it tasted foul.
“Will you fight beside me, to destroy her?” Hel asked. “Can you?”
“Yes.” Brit had just executed the woman she loved hundreds of times. And once Kirby saw her by Hel’s side, Brit would never be forgiven. But her agreement was a lie. Whatever came next, as long as it gave Brit the chance to stab Hel in the b
ack when the time came, the sacrifice was worth it.
Hel lifted Brit’s chin, forcing Brit to meet her gaze. “I’m going to give you the gift she wasted. As my servant, you’ll have immortality for as long as your loyalty lasts.”
That sounded sucky. No surprise there. “I’m your servant until you deem me done or no longer worthy.”
“Excellent.”
The first sparks across Brit’s skin tingled. An insignificant irritation. The electricity grew, jolting through her every joint and nerve ending. Swelling, until the pain was nothing like she’d ever experienced. Until she couldn’t help but let the agony rip from her throat in a ragged scream.
And then it was over. Hel dropped her hand but didn’t move away.
Brit suspected that didn’t have to hurt, especially not that much.
“One more thing,” Hel said, as if it was an afterthought. “You weren’t the only one who lived through that. I let Kirby join you. That was actually her. If it were an option, I’d lock her there permanently, but making her live the torment repeatedly was pleasant.”
Brit mentally clenched her fists, unable to fight the image of executing Hel over and over, the same way she had Kirby. She never let the reaction show. “Good.” Her own response threatened to make her vomit. “I hope it fucked with her head.”
“I do adore you.” Hel’s smile grew. “Let’s go.” The office vanished, and they were standing on a tiny street, across from Gwydion, a terrifying wolf-like creature, and a furious Kirby.
Someone was about to die.
Please let it be Hel, and let it be horrific.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kirby reappeared on the street by Aeval’s destroyed coffee shop. The emergency crews were gone. Everyone was gone, except Gwydion, Aeval, and Starkad—who was in berserker form again.
What happened?
The question lodged in her throat, stuck on days and months of relived betrayal. Her heart ached at the memories. At Brit’s coldness. At the memory of being shot again and again.
Starkad’s growl forced her attention to where Hel and Brit stood just a few meters away.
All-consuming rage pumped through Kirby, and she drew her dagger. She shouted and charged Hel, flame licking along her blade.
Brit stepped between Kirby and the goddess. The temptation to focus on Brit instead of Hel made Kirby’s step falter. She needed to take out the primary target.
Starkad dodged in front of her, jaws snapping as he locked them on Brit’s throat.
Kirby forced herself forward, continuing on her path to Hel. Please let the fire work. She and Starkad might be on their own in this fight, since the stone ground would limit Gwydion’s power, so this needed to be effective.
She heard the scrape of claws on stone, and instinct wanted her to look at Starkad. The distraction was enough for Hel. An invisible force pinned Kirby to a nearby wall.
Kirby struggled against the magical bonds. She knew how to break them. She’d done it before.
The stone shattered around Hel’s feet, rock shrapnel flying at the goddess as roots climbed from beneath the ground.
The hold on Kirby vanished, and she dropped to her feet. A quick glance at Gwydion showed him and Aeval with their faces drawn and a soft glow surrounding them.
Kirby gave her full attention to Hel, who was struggling against vines and tree roots that grew faster than she could freeze them. Kirby slashed with the fiery blade, catching Hel’s clothing, and Hel flung a spiked ball at her. The ice slammed into Kirby’s chest and sent her stumbling as she struggled to catch her breath.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Brit draw a gun. Fucking idiot. That hadn’t worked on Starkad last time. Today wouldn’t be any different.
Brit squeezed the trigger, and Starkad jerked back with a yelp. Blood spilled from a fresh wound in his shoulder. What the fuck?
A series of tree branches wrapped around Brit, preventing her from shooting again.
Kirby’s Valkyrie armor closed in around her. The summoned protection was familiar and right. As she lunged toward Hel again, a series of ice balls bounced off the transparent shield.
This was nothing like fighting Loki. He’d gone on the defensive, blinking from one spot to the next, but Hel was pushing in. Looking for any opening and exploiting every weakness.
Gwydion shouted in pain. Kirby knew better than to look. She slashed at Hel, ducking and weaving under each attack. She was avoiding being hit, but she wasn’t landing any strikes either. Starkad roared in pain, and it took all of Kirby’s willpower to stay focused on her own fight.
Hel pierced Kirby’s magical shield and sent an ice spear through her calf.
Kirby stumbled, jolting herself when she fell on her knee. Another gunshot rang in her ears.
Brit had fired again.
Starkad’s load roar shredded Kirby’s soul. He might not be able to die, but he could be hurt. She could almost feel his pain.
Kirby needed to get to Hel. Once the goddess was gone, they could deal with cleanup. The branches growing around Hel shattered into a million icy pieces. They lined up in a spiked wall and flew at Hel. That had to be Gwydion.
They burned away to ash, fluttering uselessly to the ground before they reached her.
Shock and despair filled Kirby.
Hel barked a laugh. “Yes, I wield fire, too. I suppose you weren’t expecting that.”
Brit lied.
Kirby charged toward Hel, crouched low and dagger forward.
Brit lied
Behind her, another shot rang through the air, and Starkad howled in pain.
Brit lied
Gwydion’s branches and Aeval’s vines wilted and withered before they could wrap around Hel.
Hel summoned another spear of ice and threw.
It caught Kirby in the upper thigh, and she stumbled, her hip slamming into the ground. Hopelessness licked her senses. She tried to push back the edges of despair, but did they have any hope of winning this fight?
MIN KNOCKED ON DAZ’S door. The faint whisper of smoke greeted him when Daz answered. Odd thing to smell in a hotel room.
“I’m going out for brunch, if you’d like to keep me company,” Min said. It was preferable to sitting in his room, wondering, what next?
Daz grinned. “Brunch sounds delightful. Let me grab the keys.”
“We’ll walk...” Min trailed off when Daz turned away, revealing more of the room behind him. Faint wisps of smoke rose from the wastebasket by the desk. “What’s that?”
Daz glanced over his shoulder. His cheer wilted. “Nothing.” He moved in front of Min. “Walking would be wonderful.”
Min saw the scorched and mostly burned remnants of his letter to Kirby in the trash. The paper and two envelops, in addition to the K in his handwriting on a scrap of paper, gave it away.
“You need to move on,” Daz said. “Kirby will be gone soon, this time for good if you’re lucky, so you can finally live your life for you.”
Fury licked Min’s senses. He didn’t remember the last time he’d summoned his full power, but it spilled into his veins without effort now. He whirled on the god he’d called friend and confidant for decades. “What did you do?”
Daz’s eyes grew wide. “I looked out for you. The way I always have.”
“What did you do?” Min stepped toward him.
“I don’t care who you love.” Daz backed away. “I know it will never be me. But she destroys you. You’re a shell because of her. I’ve given you riches and success, and you can enjoy them.”
“What did you do?” Min’s question rattled the walls and windows.
“Now that she’s immortal, truly returned to her original form, Hel knows how to keep her from coming back.” Daz’s voice wavered. “By this time tomorrow, she’ll be gone for good. Hel promised me—”
Min roared, his rage fueled by the deep crack running through his heart, and Daz was incinerated. The ashes fluttered in the streams of light coming through the windows.
Was this the same feeling that drove Kirby? This all-consuming desire to see someone suffer? If so, he finally understood. He would destroy anyone who interfered with his life or hers.
He dialed Gwydion as he headed to the main floor of the hotel. No answer. It was the same with Starkad’s and Kirby’s numbers. Where were they? If Daz gave Hel a location, it was the hotel Min left them in.
This was one of those instances where it would have been nice to be able to fly.
In the lobby, he tracked down a valet attendant. “What do we have in the lot that’s fast, small, and not limited edition?”
“Uh... we have a BMW Z4.”
Min grabbed the keys. “Reimburse the guest. Give them my apology,” he called over his shoulder as he headed to the garage. A perk of owning the hotel—he could tell the staff what to do, and had the money to cover this extravagance.
He hit the main streets with rubber spinning on asphalt, and floored the gas as soon as he was clear of traffic. By the time he reached the city limits, he had buried the needle.
Please let me get to them in time. He didn’t know who the prayer was to, but it better be someone more powerful than he was.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Kirby snapped off both ends of the spear sticking through her leg. She screamed in pain at the ice that clawed through her, as her body tried to heal around the magical remnants of the melted weapon. Hel assaulted her with a barrage of icicles. Most bounced off Kirby’s magical shield, but a few penetrated, nicking her skin before evaporating.
Starkad was on all fours on the ground, blood flowing freely from wounds she couldn’t see from this angle. Aeval lay unconscious on the stone. At least, Kirby hoped she was still breathing. The branches Gwydion summoned were thinner with each wave.
The squealing of tires split the air. What now?
A BMW skidded to a stop at the edge of the battlefield, and Min climbed out.
Fucker. Kirby wanted to be angry at him for coming back now, but she’d expended all her rage on Brit.
Death in the Night (Legacy, #2) Page 18