The Unleashing

by Shelly Laurenston

  “What are you worried about, Chloe? Because I’m assuming there’s a reason you’re actually talking to me.”

  “I’m just . . .” Chloe rubbed her forehead. “Do you dream, Erin?”

  “No.”

  Chloe slowly looked at her, dropping her hands to the table. “You never dream?”

  “No.”

  “Everybody dreams.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Has this been since your second life?”

  “No. It’s been that way since I was a child.”

  “That’s weird. And off-putting.”

  “I’ve been told that. Usually by my grade school’s child psychologist, Mr. Jeffries, who I tormented because I was bored and he was stupid.”

  “Well, I’ve been having these intense dreams. I’m not getting any sleep.”

  “That’s sad, but I’m not sure what that has to do with the new girl.”

  “I think it’s her fault.”

  “How can it be her fault?” Erin asked. “You said you’ve been having these dreams for weeks now.”

  “I said that?”

  “Two seconds ago.”

  “Oh.” Chloe glanced outside through the big picture window beside the table. “I still think it’s her fault.”

  Erin didn’t bother to argue, she just watched three more of her sister-Crows stumble into the kitchen and drop down at the table. They looked as exhausted as Chloe.

  “You know, if it’s the new girl’s fault,” Chloe went on, “I can send her to another Crow Clan. Maybe in Japan or something. And she can give them nightmares.”

  Erin shook her head. “Chloe, that’s stupid.”

  Their leader nodded. “The thing is, Erin . . . I know that. And yet I’m too tired to care.”

  “I need to teach you how to combat roll out of a landing,” Vig told Kera as he picked up his empty plate and carried it to the sink. “If you do it right . . . you can roll right into a battle stance, weapons in hand, ready to fight. Scares the piss out of people sometimes.”

  “I’ll worry about combat rolls when I can land on something other than my face.”

  Vig took Kera’s plate and also placed that in the sink. “Don’t let it get to you, Kera. I can’t tell you how many times I flew into buildings, trees, cars, before I figured out how to land properly. And let me tell you, Elder Ravens really hate when you crash-land into their Maseratis. That they just purchased the day before.”

  “How did the Ravens teach you to fly?” she asked. She was sitting at his kitchen island . . . naked. Sipping a glass of milk and watching him. And hopefully she was watching him because he was naked, too.

  “They threw me off an eight-story building. I have to say, the landing was unpleasant.”

  Kera’s mouth dropped open. “My God, how old were you?”

  He shrugged. “Thirteen . . . fourteen . . . nope. Thirteen. I was definitely thirteen.”

  “How is that not child abuse?”

  “Because we’re Ravens.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good enough excuse.”

  “That’s just how it is. They taught my father by throwing him off the Royal Opera in Stockholm.”

  “You know, these stories of yours do nothing but freak me out. And I have to tell you, Vig . . . I don’t freak out easily. I was stationed with a Marine who worked at a morgue in Detroit for a summer. He always had a story to tell. Yet yours still freak me out more.”

  “I never said being a Raven was easy.” He leaned on the other side of the island, rested his chin on his raised fist. “It’s just worthwhile. At least for me.”

  “How did they teach you to fight?”

  “Rigorous training from the day I got here. Yes, it was brutal and yes, it was worth it. But it’s been that way in my family since the first Raven was born. My ancestors still talk about surviving their training as children.”

  Kera’s head jerked. “You talk to your ancestors?”

  Ooops. He was getting too chatty. He had to be careful. There were some things that were for Vig and Vig alone to know. Okay, and sometimes his sister, but it was hard to hide anything from a Valkyrie.

  “Sometimes.” He finished off his glass of milk and asked a question he’d always wanted to ask. “Why did you join the Marines?”

  “To get away from my mother.” She said it quickly, with no pause. She didn’t have to think about it. “It was either that or get married to my high school boyfriend, but he didn’t want to move away. As a Marine, they sent me all over the place. I was stationed in bases in Japan, New York, Virginia, then my two tours in Afghanistan. I didn’t see her again until just before she died.”

  “What about your father?”

  “Former Marine. A really nice guy. Too nice. He didn’t know what to do with my mother, so he didn’t do anything. She became my problem.”

  “What was wrong with her?”

  “Lots of things. She was diagnosed bipolar with a paranoid personality disorder for added flavor. The sad thing was she really loved me, but that only made her crazier. And she didn’t like her meds because they made her feel out of sorts.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Kera shrugged. “It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault really. Not even hers.” She studied her empty milk glass before announcing, “I need a job.”

  “Right now?”

  She snorted. “Soon. But I don’t know what I want to do.”

  “Anything you want.”

  “Bank robber?”

  “The Crows actually had a bank robber once. But she came to them after she died in a shoot-out.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “You’re on her Strike Team,” Vig said with a smile. “It was Leigh.”

  Kera’s mouth dropped open. “Her?”

  “She didn’t tell you yet? It’s usually the first thing she tells people.”

  “I’m just the new girl at this point.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll earn your way out of that.”

  Kera didn’t know how true that was, but she didn’t want to bitch about it right now. Not when Vig was staring at her, a small grin on his handsome face.

  “You still hungry?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Then get your luscious ass in the bedroom.”

  “Okay!” Kera spun around on the bar stool and walked toward the bedroom. She’d just reached the beginning of the hallway when she sneezed, and her wings shot out of her back, the power making her stumble. She crashed into Vig, who was standing behind her.

  “Not a word,” she warned him.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “But you were going to.”

  “Probably.”

  Kera started walking again, but Vig’s stupid house had a stupid narrow hallway that her stupid wings couldn’t get through.

  “Need some help?” Vig asked.

  “No.”

  “You’re going to have to learn to control your wings when you sneeze.”

  “Yes. I know.”

  “You can’t sneeze in the middle of Macy’s and let your freak flag fly.”

  “I said I know!” she snapped, ignoring Vig’s laughter.

  Kera threw back her shoulders, her wings returning to their hiding place and walked down the hall unencumbered.

  When Kera reached the bedroom, she turned but took several quick steps back when she saw Vig right behind her.

  “You don’t really have a concept of space, do you?”

  He grabbed Kera around the waist and tossed her onto the bed. “Not anymore. No.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Vig woke up in the early afternoon, warm and comfortable, his arms around . . . a dog.

  His eyes snapped open and Vig looked at Brodie, who had planted herself between him and Kera.

  “Kera?”

  “Huh?”

  “Kera.”

  Kera slowly turned over, blinked, then laughed.

  “We need to discuss this,” Vig said,
pulling his arms from around her dog.

  “What is there to discuss? Brodie is a cuddler.”

  “And I’m fine with that. I’m not fine with finding her between us. Especially when we’re both naked. That’s just . . . weird.”

  “Not to her.” Kera grinned.

  “Brodie!” one of the Crows called from outside the house.

  The pit bull, all one hundred or so pounds of her, jumped up, her tail banging right into Vig’s face, and sped off the bed.

  “How does she get in and out?” Vig asked.

  That’s when they heard glass break and Kera said, “Apparently through your windows.”

  Vig rubbed his eyes and face with the palms of his hands and laughed. He had to. It was so ridiculous.

  “Don’t worry,” Kera said, moving close so she could snuggle against him—which he loved. “I’ll replace them.”

  “Don’t worry about that.” Vig wrapped his arms around her, pulled her even closer. He kissed her, positive he would never get tired of that. Ever. “I don’t care.”

  “Vig!” Katja called out and Vig sighed.

  “I never get this much activity here. But today . . . I do.”

  Kat walked into his bedroom. She smiled at Kera like they were sitting in the parlor having tea.

  “Are you still helping me today?” Kat asked Vig.

  “Helping you?”

  She stomped her foot. “Vig.”

  “Right. With the horses.”

  “Yes. With the horses. You promised.”

  “Horses?” Kera asked.

  “My sister works with a horse rescue group. She adopts them and they become the companions and stable buddies of the winged horses the Valkyries use to ride into battles to choose from the slain.”

  “We’re the death maidens,” Kat announced happily. Honestly, she couldn’t have been any happier making that statement.

  Ignoring that—as Kera seemed to be doing more and more these days—she instead said, “I think it’s great you rescue horses.”

  “Kera rescued her dog, Brodie,” Vig explained.

  “The pit bull, right? I love that pit bull. She licked my leg when she ran by . . . after going through your front window, Vig.”

  “Everyone loves Brodie,” Kera said. “Everyone loves my dog.”

  “You should come with us, Kera,” Kat offered.

  “I don’t want to in—”

  “You won’t intrude. And if I want Vig to get off his lazy ass any time soon, I kind of need you to join us on our little journey. Because I can tell . . . he’s really comfortable right now.”

  Kera looked up at Vig and he nodded. “She’s right. I’m really comfortable right now.”

  “They also rescue dogs,” Kat told Kera, her voice singsong. “And they just got a new batch of puppies in.”

  Kera abruptly sat up. “Move it, Viking. We’ve got puppies to see.” She tossed off the comforter and stood.

  “Kat,” Vig said, “get out.”

  “Why? She’s not shy.”

  “She’s right,” Kera agreed. “I spent years being naked around other women. It’s no big deal.”

  Vig ignored Kera and said to his sister, “Get. Out.”

  “So uptight. Did you forget we are Swedish, brother? Only Americans are that uptight.” When Vig continued to glare, Kat stomped out the bedroom door. “Fine. Just hurry up.”

  “Kera?”

  “Huh?” she asked, picking her jeans up off the floor and looking at them closely.

  “I have something for you.”

  “A clean pair of jeans and panties?”

  “No. But you can borrow a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.”

  “That’ll work.” She dropped the jeans on the floor and faced him. “So what do you have for me?”

  Vig sat up and reached into the end table. He took out a wrapped box and held it out for her.

  Kera blinked. “A gift?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t need to give me anything, Vig.”

  “I know.” He continued to hold the box out to her. “Take it. It’s for you.”

  Kera frowned a little but she took the box and tore off the plain, white wrapping paper. After a pause, she lifted the top. She reached in and pulled out the thin silver chain and studied the pendant on the end.

  “This is pretty. But what is it?”

  Vig smirked. “It’s an old Nordic design of Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir. The runes on the head are for protection.”

  Kera’s frown deepened. “Thor’s ham . . .” Her frown disappeared and the grin that replaced it was bright. “Thor’s hammer? You are such a dick.”

  They both laughed and Vig came to her side, taking the necklace from her and placing it around her neck. “Just make sure you wear it anytime you have to deal with the other Clans. Just a little reminder to them of who you are. And that you’re not to be fucked with.”

  Once Vig secured the necklace, he wrapped his arms around Kera and kissed her neck.

  “Ludvig Rundstöm!” his sister yelled from the other room.

  “I think we’d better get in the shower,” Kera told him, pulling away.

  “My sister’s not going to wait long. How much time do you need?”

  “Four minutes to shower. Two minutes to dry off and comb my hair. One minute to dress if the clothes are waiting for me. Is that acceptable?”

  “Uh . . .” Vig nodded. “Yeah. That’s perfect.”

  “Excellent. See you in seven.”

  “Wow,” Vig said when he heard the shower turn on. “She really is a marine.”

  Kera latched on to a pit bull–bulldog mix that was as funny looking as he was adorable. Determined not to take any dog—it had been hard enough to get Chloe to agree to having Brodie around—Kera still walked around the rescue compound with the puppy in her arms. When he fell asleep, she sat down on a bench next to a man who was just staring off into the distance.

  “When did you get out?” she asked.

  The man blinked and looked at her. “Pardon, ma’am?”

  Kera smiled. “When did you get out?”

  He frowned. “How did you know?”

  “You have the names of your fallen brothers tattooed down your arm.”

  He glanced at his forearm. “Yeah, but—”

  “I know military nicknames when I see them.”

  His name was Dustin. He’d been out of the Army for three months. And Kera clearly saw signs of PTSD. But he was in therapy, which was good. And he had a loyal family and friends, which was even better. Yet she could tell he still felt alone.

  She could also tell that he saw nearly everything as a potential threat.

  “So are you here for a dog or a cat?” She thought a moment. “Or a horse?”

  “My sister suggested a dog. We used to have one when we were growing up.” He pointed at the warm bundle in Kera’s arms. “The puppies are cute.”

  “They’re adorable. And will probably be snapped up in a few days. But, honestly . . . I think you need an older dog. One that’s two or three years old.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you need an older dog that will watch your back. That’s what my dog, Brodie, does for me. No one gets near me without my knowing.” Kera freed one arm and retrieved her cell phone. She showed Dustin some recent pictures of Brodie.

  “She’s beautiful. Did you get her here?”

  “No. Found her on the streets. She’s had a hard life. She needed me and I needed her. And from what I saw, there’s, like, three dogs in here that I think might just be what you’re looking for.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Want me to show you?”

  “Please. There are so many, I can’t tell which one would be best. Taking a puppy just seemed like the easiest idea.”

  “Puppies are great, but they need a lot of work. Right now, you need a turnkey dog.”

  Kera stood, the puppy in her arms snuggling closer. “Come on, Dustin. Let’s get you hooked up.”
>
  Vig secured the doors on the horse trailers before walking over to his sister.

  “Are we all set?” she asked, finishing up some paperwork and handing it off to one of the rescue attendants.

  “Yeah. I just need to find Kera.”

  “She’s over there talking to that guy.”

  Vig, not really liking the sound of that at all, spun around and saw that his sister was right. Kera was talking to some guy. Who was he? Was the guy hitting on her?

  The man had his back to Vig, as did the leashed dog standing next to him. As Vig moved closer, he could hear Kera talking about dog training and the kind of dog food that would be best to purchase.

  Vig was about ten feet away when the dog suddenly looked at him over her shoulder and began barking at him, her entire body facing him, her hackles up, her teeth bared. She moved in front of her new owner as if to say, “Stay away from him. He’s mine!”

  Vig immediately stopped. Not because he was scared of the dog but because he could sense something else was going on here besides a budding romance.

  “It’s all right, girl. I see him,” the young man said as he lovingly petted his new partner. Vig now saw that the man talking to Kera was just a kid and a soldier. A soldier who needed a dog more than he probably needed anything else right now.

  And Kera was simply helping out one of her own, as she liked to do.

  “I’m almost done,” Kera called over to Vig.

  “Take your time.”

  “Do you have any questions for me?” Kera asked the young man.

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Okay. Give me your phone,” she ordered, and the kid handed it over without question. Kera started tapping on the screen. “Here’s my number. You have any questions or if you just need to talk, call me. Some days will be harder, some easier. But whatever day it turns out to be, if you need to talk, call me. Or, I’m adding this one, too, call this hotline. It’s a private organization and they help vets. They’re really good. Okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  She stared at him. “Promise?”

  The kid’s smile was small but . . . relieved. “I promise.”

  “And remember, this dog is your best friend. You take good care of her and she’ll take the best care of you.”