Valkyrie Reborn

by Allyson Lindt

  “What have you helped him with?” Mark asked.

  She had this answer. She’d come up with it before she even placed the call to Starkad. “I fed him bullshit training intel. Stuff that checked out but doesn’t matter in the long run.” She’d figured out details too, if Mark needed them. No reason to offer more information than he asked for. The best lies were the simplest and bore some resemblance to the truth.

  “And you never realized he’d been working you the same way you’ve been working him.” Mark chuckled.

  Brit lay back on her bed, letting exhaustion creep in. “Working me how?”

  “Never telling you Kirby was alive. Do you really think they’re fucking?”

  She was really trying not to think about it. She meant every word on the phone, but that didn’t mean she wanted the image in her head of her ex-girlfriend riding their former combat instructor. “If Kirby wanted him, she got him. We both know she doesn’t give up.”

  “Fair enough.” He settled next to her, a few inches between them. “What do you want to do until he gets back to you?”

  Brit should be grateful he was dropping the subject so quickly. She’d known Mark so long that it sent suspicion coursing through her instead. “Sleep until things don’t hurt so much.”

  “I’ll leave you to that. Do you want to get cake later?” He sounded nice. Not just polite, but like he actually cared. When he was this kind, he wanted something, but what?

  “Are you making a grocery store run or something?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I could. Or there’s a local place that’s open late. I guess they’re like a bakery night club? No idea how that works. We could have Irish coffee and German chocolate cake.”

  “What are you up to?” She was too tired to second- or third-guess Mark’s mind games.

  “Why do I have to be up to anything?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and scrubbed her face. “Because you’re being nice. As in, nice-guy nice. As in, manipulative-asshole nice.”

  He rolled his eyes. “We’re partners. This Kirby shit has to be messing with your head. You’re injured, and I’m worried about you.”

  “Cake sounds good.” Brit didn’t buy that his concern was genuine, but she wasn’t surprised that he sounded sincere. He’d always excelled at that.

  So they’d go get cake, and she’d try to hide how impatient she was for Starkad to call her. To tell her he had her back. She needed a contingency plan, in case he told her no. No one hid from TOM, but Kirby had for years, so it was possible.

  And Brit was willing to do a lot for that kind of peace.

  KIRBY

  Kirby picked a spot in the bathroom to lay down the plastic, so she could dye her hair. She’d done this so many times, she knew what to protect, how to get even coverage on her hair, and how to get rid of the stench of the dye when she was done. She even had a subtle plan to dispose of everything when she was done, so it wouldn’t be linked back to her room.

  Going through each step helped her slide into a mechanical state of mind. It let her block out her emotion and follow a list. It was cool and calm in that mental place.

  Until she had to pause, to let the dye set for thirty minutes. Her mind drifted toward Brit. Toward the last time they’d seen each other. Toward the betrayal and Kirby’s spiral into darkness after.

  She couldn’t tumble into that place. Even teetering on the edge clenched her lungs and flooded her thought with inky sludge. If she fell in, she might not climb out again.

  Kirby knew this sensation. It had been a long time since she felt it so strongly. It was the crash she always got after the pain. When she’d learned to cut for the high. Before Starkad showed her—

  She couldn’t go down that road of thought. She turned on the TV, and flipped through the channels until she landed on historical footage from World War II. Shouting at the screen about what they got wrong, and nodding with satisfaction when they had their facts right, gave her a new place to focus.

  Not so much that she didn’t glance at the clock every few seconds, waiting for her time to be up. Ammonia burned her sinuses and stung her eyes. Focusing on the discomfort helped ground her.

  She rinsed out the dye until the water ran clear. The dark swirl ran down the drain. Spiraling like she’d done years ago. Falling. Drowning.

  She jerked her attention away from the tub. Clean up first, and then she could take an actual shower. Each task was something else she had to do with complete precision. No traces of her home-done dye-job could be left behind. That required her to concentrate on the task. Good.

  Kirby finished and stepped into the shower. As the first drops of water struck her skin, something inside snapped. A thick lump rose in her throat, forcing out a sob.

  She couldn’t give into this sensation. This was because she hadn’t taken time to collect herself after what happened with Starkad. It was a crash, and it would amplify everything that haunted her.

  Tumbling into the past was a bad idea. But she couldn’t stop it. The hot water erased her boundaries and drew out the tears. They flowed freely down her cheeks. She shook as she tried to hold everything back, until her legs refused to support her.

  It was too much. She sank to the floor of the tub, as reality and the harsh drop of coming down from intense sex overtook her. She pulled her knees to her chest and bawled until her throat was raw and her eyes burned. It still wasn’t enough.

  How long since she last cried? A decade? More? She’d resisted when Starkad broke her ankle. Refused when Brit made her accusations. Was too numb when Kirby tried to take her own life.

  Had she gotten weaker overnight? Did seeing Brit do this to her? Was it because she finally got what she wanted from Starkad, and it ended in the worst possible way? Was Kirby finally cracking?

  She didn’t care about Starkad’s resisting her advances or his denying interest. She definitely didn’t have complaints about the sex—it was... amazing.

  None of it mattered. Not after his words. This isn’t what I wanted. Not like this. His voice crept into her thoughts, and then picked up on a rapid repeat, taunting her. She didn’t want to be his regret or mistake. She never wanted to be something he wished he could undo.

  And now she was.

  ...not like this... He’d been thinking about them. About having sex with her. It had been more than just a passing consideration. He had expectations.

  Part of her already knew, but to hear him admit it, and have it wrapped up in that tone, in that look of pity in his eyes.... She didn’t know how to cope.

  She cried until she couldn’t anymore. Until her stomach hurt and her head throbbed. Then she forced herself to breathe once. Twice. Again and again.

  This was almost cleansing. Like she’d wept out the blackness in her soul. Not that she could ever really do that. But she could survive whatever life threw at her next. She couldn’t take back her mistake, but if Starkad didn’t want things to be physical between them, it was about time she got the fucking hint. She wouldn’t make a big deal out of what happened.

  Or what he said after.

  The reminder threatened to undo her again until she shoved it into the same box she kept thoughts of Brit in, and tucked it on a shelf in the back of her mind.

  It was time for Kirby to go back to being the professional she was trained as. Time to stop fucking around. She had a job to do.

  An empty pit in her chest, the spot that held everything she’d just cried out, wanted her to approach this differently. A tiny voice begged for her to not brush any of her feelings under the rug.

  She had to. It was the only way to stay safe and sane.

  An image flashed through her mind like a strobe light. It pinged in her chest with a new sensation. What was that? It floated just out of reach. She grabbed for the thought, to bring it back. To examine it.

  It was Starkad. He was naked, and so was Kirby. They’d never been together like this. She closed her eyes, to will away the odd fantasy, but it grew more potent.
She felt whispers of straw against her bare skin. Happiness flitted through her veins. He was smiling at her, and the warmth of it flowed through her entire body.

  She shook her head violently, to force the image aside. Fantasizing about Starkad in some alternate reality was the last thing she needed to do.

  But the joy that came with the images had wiped away the shadows in her mind. A fist no longer clenched around her lungs.

  Kirby finished dressing and headed back to Starkad’s room.

  He opened the door before she knocked. “We need to talk about what happened.” Traces of sadness lingered in his words.

  “We’ve already covered the highlights.” She was cool. She was professional. “We can’t take it back, but we can move on.” Years of training helped her pretend the mechanical response was what she wanted.

  He frowned, and seconds ticked away before he responded. “All right.”

  Did she expect him to argue? No. She was tired of arguing with him. The sooner things went back to status quo, the better.

  Another image flashed through her mind. One of those damned her-and-Starkad-naked things. She was riding him. His hands roamed her body. They were laughing. Happiness surged inside, until it threatened to burst out of her. It was the exact opposite of what they’d done a couple of hours ago.

  And a childish fantasy, for her to bury.

  “You need to know something else.” Starkad’s voice helped ground her.

  “Yes, I do. How did you know where to find me this morning?”

  He turned away. “I wasn’t there for you.” He took his seat at the desk. “I was there for Min.”

  What? Shock and confusion raced through her. “Why?”

  “He’s one of us. Works for the organization. He helps put the targets you save into protective custody. Builds them a new life.”

  That was awfully sweet of the god. A wash of something potent threatened to overwhelm her. Starkad had never talked about anyone on the inside by name before. He and Kirby agreed it was safest that way. So why did it feel like his keeping Min’s identity from her was a betrayal? “Did he know who I was?” Last night. When he approached her.

  “Yes.” Starkad grimaced.

  It was definitely betrayal, spilling inside. She moved further into the room but kept her distance from Starkad. She crossed her arms. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

  “His reasons are his own. Best I can do is guess.”

  “Then do that.” Kirby poured her emotion into her retort.

  “He saw a stunning woman who flirted back, and he was more interested in getting to know you on that level than on talking business. Same reason you were in the bar.” Starkad studied his fingers when he spoke. He was keeping something from her.

  Fuck him. But not literally, because live and learn. He had a point, though. If Kirby had known who Min was, would she have tipped her hand? Then again, that meant she had no idea he’d been lying to her, and concern mingled with the bitter flavors churning inside. “So he also knows I gave him a fake name.”

  “Yes.” A smile whispered across Starkad’s face. An appreciation that at least she was cautious?

  If they were laying out names, Kirby wanted another one. “Who’s your TOM contact?”

  Starkad clamped his jaw shut.

  “It’s Brit.” Kirby wasn’t asking. Everything rushed in at once. Hurt. Betrayal. All of the emotions she’d been fighting since she found that AUG. And the clawing darkness was back too. She’d been seeking revenge for years, based on hints from the woman who had her cast out.

  “I never told her you were alive. She was a source of information. Nothing more.”

  Kirby heard Starkad’s sincerity. That didn’t mean she had to like the situation. “There was a time when I would’ve chosen death over hearing that you were working with her. Regardless of your reasons.”

  He finally met her gaze. The hard mask he usually wore was as fractured as her thoughts. Sympathy and sadness shone through. “I know. And I’m glad you’ve moved past that.”

  But had she really? She wasn’t so certain. “Does that mean you won’t help me find her?”

  “I’ll do whatever you ask. I’m telling you all of this because she wants out.”

  “Bullshit,” Kirby spat. “You don’t get to dump all of this on me, and then shoulder me with the burden of her freedom. She doesn’t deserve out.”

  “I could have kept this all from you instead. Which would you prefer?”

  It was a bit late to ask that now. “That you make the decision, so I can hate you for it, regardless of which direction you go.”

  “That would make things easier.” Starkad sighed. “Brit doesn’t mean anything to me, outside of what she is to you. She was a student. She almost destroyed you. For the latter, I’d see her suffer. Ultimately, she tried to decide your fate, and this is your chance to do the same.” He pulled out a second chair and gestured.

  Kirby sat on the edge of the bed instead. “I don’t know what to pick.” The answer should be simple. Let Brit suffer. Keep her on the inside. Why didn’t Kirby say that? Because she’d hated life on the inside. She couldn’t be the only one. And because part of her still loved Brit, despite the betrayal.

  It was the same self-destructive part of her that said it was smart to fuck random gods without protection. And by protection, she meant a rocket launcher.

  “I don’t expect you to have answers right now,” Starkad said.

  Good. Because his demanding a decision wouldn’t make it any easier for Kirby to make one. She couldn’t think with him watching her. But she couldn’t drag her feet, either. “Did you know she would be here?”

  “No. She told me it would be a team. She never gives me names.”

  “Who’s her spotter?” Did it matter? Kind of a lot, yeah. Because Kirby had a feeling she knew the answer, and she wasn’t going to like it.

  “I don’t kn—”

  Kirby raised an eyebrow. She’d forgiven the half-truths up to this point, but wouldn’t tolerate an outright lie.

  “Mark.”

  She punched the mattress as hard as she could, hammering the springs and fabric until her arm throbbed in protest. Brit. And Mark. Of all the bullshit fucking pair-ups... Teams didn’t have the final say in their creation, but paring snipers with people they clashed with made the trust harder and the missions more prone to error.

  The flash of anger and disbelief that came with this new knowledge almost made Kirby say kill her. She swallowed the impulse, because for some fucking reason, she still wasn’t certain.

  “I can give you two days to decide,” Starkad said. “Brit has a dislocated shoulder and ruptured eardrum, according to her. They’re staying in town. My guess is the only reason they can do that is because she told Mark they needed to find you.” Protocol dictated TOM assassins never stuck around after a job—successful or otherwise. If another attempt was needed, it was safer to regroup, than risk blowing their cover.

  “Or she’s playing you, and all of it is bullshit except the finding me part.”

  “That’s also a distinct possibility.”

  Why did life have to be all secrets and second-guessing? “If that’s what she’s doing, I’ll eviscerate them both.” No clean gunshots. She was going to look Brit in the eye and gut her.

  “And if she really wants out?”

  Kirby didn’t know. “I need to think. I need air.”

  “Where do you want to go?” Starkad was on his feet in an instant.

  “Somewhere you’re not.” Because, so help her, she couldn’t have him by her side. His presence was clouding her thoughts, and as much as she wanted to forget it, flashes of sex—both what happened and the bizarre fantasies—still teased her.

  How fucked up was she, that she was fantasizing about getting laid, while discussing whether to save or execute her former lover?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Now - Gwydion

  Gwydion stepped from the shower, humming a random tune. Last ni
ght was amazing. Seeing Kirby. Being with her. Things were back on track and right again. Finally.

  Though, what the hell was going on between her and Starkad? The instant the two were in the room together, sparks almost lit the air on fire. But not the happy kind. Starkad had kept his hands to himself the entire time Kirby was in his care with TOM, but her...

  She was completely smitten with her instructor. The affection and adoration that burned in her eyes when she looked at him were as potent as in any other life, after she got her memories back. Gwydion could see why she’d been willing to be cursed for Starkad, all those years ago.

  Min lounged on his bed, still naked. Gwydion was grateful he didn’t have any insecurities about penis size.

  The two had been traveling and living together off and on for several decades. More on than off, since the last time they found Kirby. The silence in the room was comfortable these days.

  Gwydion’s phone rang, and he snagged it from its spot on the nightstand. It was Starkad.

  “Yeah,” Gwydion answered.

  “I need a favor.”

  “All right, but it’s going to take me a few years. I’ll be in touch.” Gwydion couldn’t help but joke about Starkad’s hiding Kirby for so long.

  Starkad’s growl said he didn’t appreciate the joke.

  Grumpy fucking berserker. “Lighten up,” Gwydion said. “What can I do for you?”

  “I fucked up.” That sounded bad. But since Starkad was drawing things out, it was probably more embarrassing for him than it was critical.

  "Sucks to be you."

  "Thanks." Sarcasm dripped from Starkad’s voice. "I pissed off Kirby, and she's gone. She's least likely to kill you without hearing you out first..."

  Gwydion grinned. "Yeah. That's so true."

  “When you finish being smug, let me know.”