Viking Warrior Rising

by Asa Maria Bradley

  Another of the nurses left the room and returned with a rolling monitor that he hooked up to a small clamp placed over Scott’s index finger. The machine would measure the oxygen saturation in his bloodstream and his heart rate. She’d often been hooked up to one herself after new injections in the lab. The familiar piece of equipment made bile rise in her throat.

  Dr. Rosen walked over to her. “We’ve stabilized your brother for now.” He crouched down by her chair and touched her arm. “You need sleep. Your brother won’t wake up for at least six hours. Go rest.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll stay here.”

  The doctor touched her forehead and frowned. “You are running a fever. If you won’t rest for yourself, think of your brother. With his compromised immune system, an infection would be devastating.”

  Dr. Rosen walked over to the cabinet on Scott’s side of the bed and removed a small white jar before returning to the chair. “This is a fever reducer that will also help you sleep. I insist you take care of yourself before returning to your brother’s side.”

  Naya wanted to protest¸ but couldn’t find the energy to argue. She put the pills in her pocket.

  She said a quick thank-you and dragged her tired ass out of the room and to the rental car. On the drive back to the motel, she kept her mind numb. She couldn’t deal with the thought of Scott permanently unconscious.

  * * *

  The diner reeked of overheated grease and unwashed bodies. Naya glanced away from her laptop screen long enough to reach for the cup beside her computer. She reconsidered and set it back down when the smell of burnt coffee assaulted her nose.

  After eight hours of sleep, she didn’t need caffeine anyway.

  Naya was still running a slight fever and wasn’t allowed back in the clinic until her temperature was back to normal. Dr. Rosen had insisted on it. She sighed and brought up her email inbox. Irja had responded to her message about Sten. Again, the Valkyrie implored her to return to the mansion. Naya typed a terse reply, letting the healer know Scott still wasn’t doing well.

  Irja insisted Naya being separated from Leif made him ill. She almost believed her. If the bond could manipulate intense feelings of attraction and out-of-this-world orgasms, it probably could make someone sick. Eventually, the effects would wear off. Maybe the flu-like symptoms she was experiencing herself were a combination of the ticking bomb and the bond wearing off.

  She’d give anything to have her normal strength back. Operating at half-mast sucked. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and looked back at the computer screen. The failed injection therapy made her more determined to find out what “Batch 439” referred to in the intercepted email from the wolverine ranch. She’d scoured every underground forum and database she could find, but found nothing. The only thing left to do would be to hack back into the lab’s servers and see how long she could hide from their tracers. But she wouldn’t do it here, in Colorado. If the lab tracked her IP address, they may be able to get a lock on her location. She didn’t want to leave a track that could be used to find Scott.

  She closed her laptop and fished two ibuprofens out of her bag. They went down with the last of the water in her glass. The computer slid easily into the pocket at the back of the bag. She threw enough money on the table to cover the coffee and tip, looped the shoulder strap over her head, and strode out the back door.

  The parking lot gravel crunched under her boots as she headed for the motel and her rental car. She should exchange it for a new vehicle before she set off north. Since she’d paid cash, dumping the car and renting a new one under a different name wouldn’t even require a trip back to Denver. First, she needed to check in with Dr. Rosen. Even if he wouldn’t let her see Scott again, she wanted to speak with the doctor in person before leaving the state. She might not be coming back from this hacking mission, and she needed to leave a message for her brother.

  * * *

  Exercise no longer worked to keep the berserker in check. Neither did alcohol or feberandas, Leif’s old methods of calming the inner warrior. The berserker’s rage boiled his blood. Mine, it screamed inside his mind, its voice overpowering all other thoughts. Irja had given him a sedative, but even that didn’t counteract his restlessness, the need to fight, to kill.

  He kept to his room, the curtains drawn, the lights low. He couldn’t risk interaction with his warriors. Couldn’t risk inadvertently hurting them if the berserker’s full-on rage took over. Despair lay heavy in his heart. He had no choice but to go back to Valhalla. He was a danger to his people. Odin would have to find a different Viking king to save the world—Leif was no use to the Wise One now.

  A knock sounded on the door and Harald entered the room. Through Leif’s crimson-colored vision, he appeared a blurry shadow just inside the door. “What do you want?” Leif roared.

  “Min kung, I’ve come to see if you would please take some food.” Harald held up a bowl of soup.

  “I’m not hungry.” Leif hadn’t eaten since the day before, but there was no need. When he slept the eternal sleep back in Valhalla, his body would need no earthly sustenance. Besides, the berserker’s rage obliterated all other needs. He hungered only for his själsfrände. The one thing he could not have.

  “If you would just eat something, it may give you the energy to withhold a little longer.” Harald sounded desperate.

  “Silence!” Leif roared. “I have no need of food. Where is the king I asked you to bring here? You have to send me back.”

  Harald hesitated. “I have not yet sent the message. There may still be a chance—”

  Leif lunged toward his stallare, stopping only because he pressed the tip of his dagger into his arm. The pain cleared the fog of anger for a brief moment. “I gave you an order. Fetch another king now. There’s not much time left. I might kill someone.” He gazed at his second-in-command, trying to urge him to understand his despair. “I might kill one of my battle brothers or sisters.”

  Harald took a step closer, but then checked himself. “Irja will sedate you fully before that happens. Just give us a little more time to track down Naya.”

  Leif dragged his body over to the bed and lay down. “It’s no use. She will not come back to us and we cannot trust her.”

  “I don’t believe she would betray us. Nor do I believe she’s an instrument of Loki’s.” Harald’s voice was firm. “You should have more faith in your berserker’s choice.”

  Leif didn’t bother answering. On some level he knew there was no evil in his soul mate, but she had left him. She didn’t love him. Their bond, already weakened, would break either way.

  Another knock on the door sounded and Harald turned to answer it. Leif debated on scolding him for turning his back on what was essentially a wild animal, but he couldn’t be bothered. He closed his eyes, trying to sleep despite the berserker’s roaring in his mind.

  Ulf entered the room. “My king, I have good news. Your queen emailed Irja, and I was able to track down where the message came from.”

  Leif’s eyes flew open. “Where is she?” His voice sounded guttural, the berserker and himself speaking as one.

  Ulf’s eyes widened. “She is in Colorado.”

  Chapter 20

  The compound looked the same from a distance, but as she drove closer, she saw some of the buildings had newer exteriors. Courtesy of her bomb, no doubt. Naya grinned grimly. This time she had no explosives, no blueprints, not even a plan or a getaway car.

  She’d managed to hack into the lab’s servers and found out that Batch 439 was something called a “scrubber.” She’d tried to find out what that meant, but came up empty. In the end she got out of the network before they could trace her. Naya had to find out what the substance was and, if it could possibly help Scott, she absolutely had to get her hands on some of this Batch 439. Her only option was to get into the compound. Inside the lab’s firewall, she could dig through the ultra-secured files. If she had to, she’d walk through the front door and rip the compound
to pieces to find out what Batch 439 was.

  She felt flushed, her fever spiked at odd intervals, and her vision had remained tinted red since she left Colorado. She’d slept once on the side of the road, but only for a few hours. And still she felt alert and ready, her body pumping with adrenaline.

  At the guard kiosk, she rolled down her window and gave the uniformed man her most winsome smile. “I’m Naya Brisbane. I believe I’m expected.”

  The guy went on full alert so quickly he almost jerked straight out of his uniform. She must still be on the most-wanted list. He fumbled when reaching for the machine gun slung over his shoulder. “Don’t move.” Pointing the barrel at her, he reached for a phone and spoke hurriedly into the receiver.

  She couldn’t make out the words, but the reply was brisk and the gate opened immediately. Saluting the guard, she drove through the massive gates. A few minutes later, she reached the main building.

  Two armed soldiers greeted her when she stepped out of the car, machine guns following her movements as she slowly walked to the door.

  “Keep your hands visible!” one shouted.

  The front door opened and a man in a white lab coat stepped out. His salt-and-pepper hair and straight nose reminded her of an older version of Richard Gere, but a large port-wine stain covered most of his upper left cheek.

  Naya stopped mid-stride. She remembered the birthmark. Dr. Trousil. A growl rose in her throat.

  He took a step toward her. “I see you remember me fondly.”

  She ignored his offered handshake.

  “Shall we?” He stepped aside, sweeping his arm to indicate she should precede him through the door.

  Naya shook her head. “Oh no please, after you. I insist.”

  Dr. Trousil’s jaw clenched, but he walked ahead of her. At the door, he nodded to the leader of the two guards. “Search her,” he said.

  The soldier handed his gun to the other. “Raise your hands,” he directed.

  Naya complied and gritted her teeth as the man patted her down with more force than necessary. He confiscated her sidearm, the switchblade from her boot, and the hunting knife in her bag.

  “Still packing a small arsenal,” Dr. Trousil tsked. “Your predictability is uninspiring.”

  Naya kept quiet, grabbed her bag from the soldier, and followed the doctor.

  “I can take it from here,” Trousil said, closing the door.

  She hitched the bag higher on her shoulder, appreciating the heft of the hollowed-out laptop shell and the gun hidden inside.

  The doctor strode down a drab hallway and opened one of the doors. “Step into my office,” he shot over his shoulder. “We’ll complete the intake forms and then those two good men will show you to your quarters.”

  He sat on the couch and crossed one leg over the other, brushing an invisible piece of lint off his pants leg. “So, what made you visit when you’ve worked so hard to avoid our…invitations?”

  She sat in a nearby chair. “Why do you want to keep me alive when you executed the other older models?”

  His eyes widened and a small part of her, deep down, gloated.

  “Why am I so special?” She leaned back in the chair. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the effort and attention.”

  He studied her with a feral grin. “I’m going to enjoy breaking you again.”

  She suppressed a shudder and moved her foot a smidgen, nudging her bag on the floor. The contact helped her find her center. “Again?” she asked, eyebrow quirked.

  “The twelve-year-old you was stubborn. I wonder what it will be like for you now, after being out in the real world. I bet you’ll fight the process even more this time.”

  She traced a pattern on the arm of the chair. “You never broke me. Plus, this time you don’t have my brother to use as a bargaining chip.”

  A shadow fell across his brow before he smoothed his expression. “What makes you think we haven’t already found him?”

  She ignored his taunt. She would have been notified by Dr. Rosen if they’d found Scott. “Is that why you created the wolverines? To track Scott and me down?”

  Dr. Trousil’s eyes momentarily narrowed. “Not everything is about you. A client asked for some creatures with special skills. The fee he’s paying helps our research dollars stretch further.” He settled more deeply into the couch. “The wolverines are a new direction we’re exploring. The compulsion to find you was an added bonus feature.” He smiled again. “Added bonus for us that is.”

  She kept her face passive, but relief flooded through Naya’s body. Leif and his people were safe from her. Slowly she nudged her bag open with her toe. The sight of her laptop calmed her even more. “So why go to all that trouble when I have already killed several of your expensive wolverines?” She smiled sweetly. “Why do you need me alive so bad?”

  He paused for several seconds, “Who says we do?”

  An ice-cold shiver shot down her spine.

  Dr. Trousil’s smile showed he enjoyed her discomfort. “You’ll be dead soon anyway, all of our older models self-destruct eventually.”

  She played the trump card. “Then why develop Batch 439?”

  The doctor smirked. “I wondered if you’d found out about that.” He angled his head. “You were actually not created in our lab. You’re the genetic offspring of one of our super-soldiers.”

  Naya swallowed. “My parents were created here?”

  “Only your dad, but that still makes you the find of the century. If we can reproduce your genetic code, there are no limits to what we can do.”

  Naya’s mind reeled from the revelation about her dad. But she couldn’t think about that now. She had to stay on mission. Save Scott. She reached for a nearby pillow and put it on her lap. “Why don’t you tell me about Batch 439 and maybe I will share how I know about the formula. You’d be able to plug a security breach.”

  Dr. Trousil frowned as if he was disappointed she didn’t react to the bomb he’d just dropped. “The only thing I want from you is the location of your brother.”

  “Why do you need Scott when you have me? He’s in a coma, remember?”

  The grin stretching his thin lips radiated pure evil. “We developed Batch 439 for your brother. He needs to stay alive for a little longer.”

  She quirked an eyebrow to get him to continue, squelching the need to knock the smile off his face.

  “Haven’t you guessed yet?” He leaned back again. “A brother and a sister. A male and a female. We need his Y chromosome to create beautiful test-tube babies, using your DNA.”

  Swallowing the nausea rising in her throat, Naya nudged the pillow off her lap. She leaned down on one knee, unsnapping the laptop shell. The gun cooled the hot skin of her hand as she shielded it from the doctor’s view with the pillow.

  Dr. Trousil caught on that something was amiss and half stood, but it was too late.

  She shot him through the pillow and straight through the ugly birthmark on his cheek. The pillow silenced the gun, and she’d made sure to angle the trajectory of the bullet to pierce the doctor’s brain. The despicable man crumpled to the floor.

  She remained crouched, holding her breath as she listened for footsteps in the hallway.

  None came.

  Nudging the doctor’s body with the tip of her toe, she slipped the gun into her waistband at the small of her back.

  She walked over to the door and placed an ear against its cold wood. Not a sound from the corridor. Just in case, she turned the lock before grabbing her bag and crossing the room.

  The doctor’s desk took up most of the room. She sat down and concentrated on opening the doctor’s laptop. While the password retrieval tool worked, she drummed her fingers until Trousil’s code appeared on the screen.

  She quickly scanned the folders, looking for anything with the word “batch” or number sequence 439. A few minutes of searching led her to an inventory list. A serum called Batch 439 was stored in lab number seven. Additional information described it a
s a serum that cleaned self-destructive nanoparticles out of the bloodstream. Jackpot.

  A few more seconds of searching found two large directories labeled with hers and Scott’s names and designated numbers. She uploaded them to a cloud server together with all of the information on Batch 439 and then mirrored the hard drive.

  She hesitated a moment, but then emailed Irja a link to the server. Since the wolverines were created in this lab, Leif and his people might have use for the information. She’d promised them she’d return, but she might not survive the exit from this compound. Thinking of never seeing Leif again made her fingers stumble on the keyboard. She forced herself to concentrate. Find Batch 439 and get it to her brother. Her only mission now, maybe her last.

  She clicked through a few more files to find a floor plan of the building. Lab number seven was on the other side of the complex, close to where Scott had been housed when she rescued him. She closed her eyes, reviewing the blueprints in her mind, and overlaid them on the floor plan from Trousil’s computer. Together with her real memories, she should be able to find her way.

  She returned to the doctor’s body and searched for a security pass. She found his ID clipped to a retractable cord attached to his belt.

  She listened at the door again, gripping her gun while slowly unlocking and opening the door. The corridor was empty. She slipped out and jogged lightly in the opposite direction of the front entry.

  A few turns later, voices and footsteps bounced between the walls down the path she wanted to take. She tried the handles of the doors closest to her, and panicked before finding one unlocked. Quickly, she slipped through the opening just as a boot tip appeared at the end of the hallway. The door closed behind her with a soft click, but whoever strode down the hallway spoke loudly enough with their companion to cover the sound.

  A bigger problem faced her in the lab tech staring at her with wide eyes, syringe raised. Naya’s focus narrowed.

  A drop of liquid fell in slow motion from the tip of the needle as the woman opened her mouth to scream.