A wash of power spilled from him, rolling across the ground. It soothed Kirby, wrapping her in a love and adoration she didn’t want to feel. It knocked Hel back a few feet.
Kirby was moving again, Starkad by her side, before Hel regained her balance. Why wasn’t Brit stopping him? It didn’t matter.
Hel flung out a fireball that struck Gwydion in the chest, and he stumbled. A second attack from her blasted Starkad back, and she turned her attention toward Kirby, driving at her with another spear.
Brit stepped behind Hel, and light shimmered around her, coalescing in a scythe. The fuck? That was new. Brit swung and buried the blade in Hel’s back.
Hel whirled on Brit with a roar. “I warned you not to betray me.” She back-handed Brit, who crumpled in a pile, unmoving.
Kirby was already running forward again, taking advantage of the distraction. She swung, and her dagger seemed to grow almost a meter. She sliced through Hel’s neck, sending the goddess’s head rolling.
Flame licked off Kirby, fueled by power from someone behind her and burning Hel’s body to cinders. “See you in another life, bitch,” Kirby spat.
Numbness swam in, and she landed on her butt. Was it really over?
Min stepped in front of her, and she turned away. He wasn’t a priority. She needed to know if Starkad and Gwydion were all right. Aeval too.
They were all staggering to their feet, making their way toward her. Min was by her side again. “I came to warn you,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t arrive sooner.”
“Yeah, okay.” Kirby was too tired to engage him. All her energy was gone.
“Take care of yourself and your lovers,” Min stepped back. “I’ll abide by my promise to leave.”
And then Starkad was next to her, on all fours and nuzzling her hand. She ran her palms over his chest. Blood matted his fur, but the holes were healing.
Gwydion knelt next to her and crushed his mouth to hers.
Kirby wanted to scream and laugh and cry. Hel was gone. Brit was gone. An ugly chapter in her life was over.
And she’d celebrate and mourn when she could think again.
KIRBY LET CONSCIOUSNESS seep in slowly and reached out for one of two familiar forms that should be flanking her in the bed. Her hand met empty, wrinkled sheets. She frowned and rolled onto her other side, reluctant to open her eyes. No one else was here.
She surrendered to the idea of being awake and sat up. The room was something straight out of a fairy tale. Or a catalog. She was in a large bed with feather-soft sheets and comforter, surrounded by gauzy curtains. The ornate, wood furniture was part of the vision, rather than disrupting it. And the softest light spilled through a large window.
How late had she slept? Enough that most of the aches from the battle with Hel had vanished. Was it really only yesterday? It felt both like an eternity ago, and like the memory would never soften.
They’d confirmed Brit was dead. Kirby didn’t know how she felt about it. So much betrayal couldn’t be corrected with a single act of sacrifice, even if Brit’s attack on Hel had helped turn the tide of the battle.
Or was it Min’s arrival that changed things? Kirby hated how cheesy the notion was, but it seemed as though his passion and love of life were the counterbalance to Hel’s lust for destruction.
Kirby didn’t understand why, but he said he’d take care of Brit’s arrangements. He’d left without argument. Surprising, but pleasantly respectful of her wishes.
She followed her nose toward the scent of fresh coffee, and found Gwydion and Starkad in the kitchen. It was impossible to fight her smile. “Morning.”
“Early afternoon.” Gwydion set a mug of coffee in front of her. “But we’re not keeping track.”
Another thing to be grateful for—a short respite from the fight. And the coffee was good. Not Aeval-good, though the fae queen was responsible for their current living quarters. She’d set them up with a cottage in her little realm of fairies, and said they were welcome anytime. Then she left, to take care of things in her kingdom.
Starkad had explained to Kirby that yesterday, when Brit was killing her over and over, she’d only been gone for a few seconds in real life. Enough time for them to know Hel was around, and for Gwydion and Aeval to fuzz the lines of reality to separate them from the people on the streets.
When the fight was over, the illusion faded, leaving destroyed sidewalks and roads visible to everyone. But people didn’t like to see what they didn’t understand, and most of them easily accepted that the destruction was part of the explosion that took out Aeval’s coffee shop.
Kirby sipped her coffee and enjoyed the serenity.
Starkad’s features were sharper than yesterday. His berserker lingered closer to the surface. She could feel it, pacing inside him. It was comforting.
Gwydion almost glowed. He seemed closer to the ambient magic in centuries.
And Kirby... She felt more complete than she had at any point in this short life. Pieces were still missing. Holes caused by her time with TOM. An ache she couldn’t define and didn’t know how to soothe. But she’d take better than yesterday any day.
Starkad’s phone chirped.
“That thing works in here?” Kirby was surprised.
Gwydion took a seat at the wooden table. “It’d be hard to communicate with the outside world if it didn’t.”
Wasn’t that the point? Kirby’s questions evaporated when a frown spread across Starkad’s face.
He slid her the phone. “It’s from Brit. For you.” His tone was grim. “I’ll delete it if you’d prefer.”
Kirby’s chill shriveled into a pile of ash. “No. I want to see it.” She pulled up the encrypted message, timestamped right after Brit had called Starkad with the lie about Hel’s weakness.
A video loaded, and Brit’s face filled the screen. Impassive and cool, like always. “Hey.” Her voice was jarring in its sweetness. “I’m not quite sure what to say. I should probably make this short. I hope you’re seeing my message, because if you’re not, Hel is still alive. You’re going to think I sided with her. I hope you do, because I need her to believe the same. I hope the fire thing works for you. I got the information from some guy who called himself Daz.”
Brit breathed out a long sigh, and static crackled over the speakers. “I don’t know if what I’m doing is right, but it feels like it. For the first time in forever, this is scary but it feels like what needs to be done. I don’t expect you to believe me or forgive me. I do have information for you, though. Hel’s death will trigger the delivery of this message. It’s linked to the same dead man’s switch that will set other things into motion. The Campus Police at TOM academy are making arrangements to destroy the school. Anyone at the school who Hel didn’t deem converted be dead in the next six months.”
Kirby was going to be ill. They’d kill all those students?
“And a series of orders will go out to all of their field agents. Every assassin will be sent after a list of targets. Things are about to escalate,” Brit said. “I’m attaching what I know. I can’t say how much of it has changed. If anyone can ease the damage, you can. I know you won’t buy what I’m saying—I don’t expect you to—but I have to say it anyway. I’m sorry. And I really do love you.”
Kirby gaped in disbelief as the message ended. What was she supposed to do with this information? “I don’t understand.” She didn’t realize she was speaking aloud, until her voice hit her own ears. “This wasn’t her. She didn’t sacrifice...”
“She didn’t just love you. She also wanted to be you,” Gwydion said.
No. That was twisted and fucked up and wrong. And Kirby’s life was the last thing that should be used as a template.
“It seems like she’d figured out what that meant,” Starkad added.
That hurt more than Kirby wanted it to. “But I wouldn’t—”
“Sacrifice everything for the person you loved?” Starkad covered her hand.
Kirby didn’t want the burden of
someone else looking up to her that way. Why couldn’t Brit have been herself, selfish and oblivious, up until the end? She’d be alive and out of Kirby’s life, and Kirby wouldn’t have an old-new set of luggage to deal with. “I’ll amend my previous statement. I don’t want to understand.”
Gwydion sighed. “Right there with you. But we still have to decide what to do with the information she gave you about TOM...”
Starkad took the phone back and scrolled through something. “It won’t take much to confirm some of this. We can’t let it slide. Dozens of people will die if it’s true.”
“I know.” Kirby wished she didn’t. It would be so much easier to ignore the reality. “We can’t be everywhere at once.”
“No, but we don’t have to do this alone. Urd has resources,” Starkad said.
Kirby wasn’t used to that. Sure, he was always by her side, but an entire organization that was partially hidden in shadows? Could she trust them?
You can’t second-guess every person you meet, or you’ll be stuck in the limbo of never trusting anyone. Gwydion’s words echoed in her head.
Things weren’t done yet, even with Hel gone. Kirby, Starkad, and Gwydion... and perhaps Min, needed all the help they could get.
Epilogue
Min laid Brit’s body on the mortuary table. It hurt, to walk away from Kirby again, but he finally understood and respected her wishes. He also had a lot of atoning to do. What happened with Daz was his fault. He’d been blind to so much, when it came to those in his life.
Anubis studied Brit’s face, hovering a hand over her but not making contact. “Why bring her here? She’s not one of yours. Or any of ours.”
“She’s defied her gods.” The way Kirby did so long ago. In a way so few people ever had the strength to do. “But she deserves better than to be left forgotten in an unmarked grave.”
Min had seen Brit’s sacrifice. He would have assumed it was a last-minute change of heart, but Gwydion told him about the video Kirby received.
Anubis nodded and donned an apron. “Was she a solider?”
“Yes.”
There was little to be done for Brit, but this would have to do. The room was as generic as most mortuaries, but power radiate from every crack. Stainless steel and tile everywhere. Easy to hose down and sterilize. The table Brit lay on was no different. If Brit’s soul hadn’t evaporated into the void—and chances were good it hadn’t, based on her will in life—interring her as a soldier with Anubis’ blessing would grant her some peace in the beyond.
“Would you like to assist?” Anubis asked.
Min and Brit loved the same woman, and both made mistakes when it came to their feelings. He felt an odd sort of kinship, with this person he barely knew. He put on an apron. “Yes.”
Anubis grabbed a pair of large shears, started at the collar of Brit’s tattered shirt, and cut down to remove the bloody top.
Brit gasped, and her eyes flew open. She sat straight up, hands over the hole in her gut. “Kirby?” Her voice was raspy.
“Alive.” Min had never seen anything like this before.
“Hel?”
“Dead.”
Brit exhaled noisily and collapsed back on the table with a loud clang. “Me?” Her question was barely a whisper.
Anubis passed his hand over her again, moving down her chest and lingering over the rapidly closing hole in her middle. The shock and confusion on his face matched what Min felt.
“I don’t know what you are,” Anubis said.
THANK YOU FOR READING the next chapter in Kirby’s fight. The story continues in CHAOS IN THE STORM. Hel has flipped the kill switch, and the race is on for Kirby to stop the countdown before it hits zero.
› Click here to check out CHOAS IN THE STORM
IF YOU’RE ENJOYING my high-action urban fantasy with a kick-ass heroine and her immortal, protective men, check out the TRUTH’S HAREM series, starting with FATE’S ILLUSION. The gods want Lexi dead. Her mother haunts her dreams. But she’s destined to fall for two Greek heroes and a Hellhound shifter, so at least fate only mostly has it in for her.
› One click FATE’S ILLUSION today
About the Author
USA Today Bestselling Author Allyson Lindt is a full-time geek and a fuller-time contemporary romance author. She likes her stories with sweet geekiness and heavy spice, because cubicle dwellers need love too. She loves a sexy happily-ever-after and helping deserving cubicle dwellers find their futures together.
Read more at Allyson Lindt’s site.
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