by Lauren Dawes
Forcing away his frown, Mason said, “He wants you back now, and when I get back there, he’ll be tearing me a new one.”
That last statement made her lips twitch. “I wouldn’t worry about Korvain too much. He means well.”
“I’m not too concerned about whether he means well or not. I’m more concerned about him disemboweling me … with his bare hands.”
Eir placed her hand in his and pulled him off the hood of his car. “I’ve had a long day. Take me home?”
He huffed, but allowed her to lead him to the driver’s side door. Eir opened his door for him, indicating he should get in. A secret smile curved up the corners of her mouth as she walked around to the passenger side, shoving her hands deep into her pockets. Mason started up the engine, cranking the heat to warm up the car.
“So, how was work today?” he asked, trying to distract himself from the reaming he was going to get in about fifteen minutes.
Eir let out a heavy sigh. “It was … intense.”
“Oh?” Mason hated to hear her so weary. He wanted to erase every bad thing that had happened to her that day.
She sighed again, turning in her seat to look at him as he pulled out of the car park. “There’s a patient I’ve been working with. He’s an elderly gentleman who has an advanced form of cancer. His body is riddled with it. His doctor is sure he can survive the treatment they’ve devised for him, but …”
Mason reached over and took her hand. “But?” he prompted, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.
Her focus dropped down to his hand on hers. “But he won’t survive the treatment. The cancer … it’s everywhere—metastasized.”
“How old is he?” Mason asked, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. He studied her briefly before turning his eyes back to the road.
“He’s lived a good life—a long life. He’s in his eighties, but his family are demanding the treatment. I truly believe he would rather just pass away quickly, but there’s nothing we can do. We have to obey the wishes of the family.”
“I’m so sorry, Eir.”
She looked up at him, unshed tears pooling in her eyes. The car in front of them slowed to a stop, giving Mason the chance to reach over and wipe the tears away.
“Please don’t cry. I don’t like seeing you sad.”
She blinked at him, her pale lashes wet. “I don’t know why this affects me so much. I’ve been healing people and watching people pass for as long as I can remember. There’s just something about this man that makes me care that little bit more.”
Mason picked up her hand and brought it to his mouth. His lips brushed her skin. “You care about everyone, Eir. I don’t think that’s such a bad thing, do you?”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t think so … but enough about me. How was your day?”
Mason looked back up at the traffic. It had started moving again. “It was spent sleeping mostly. I did manage to get some cleaning done, though, and I took Sophie out for a long run before I had to get ready to head into work.”
Eir laughed gently. “Look at you. I never would have pegged you for a domestic goddess.” He gave her a sideways glance, thinking about how great the sound of her laughter was.
Bringing her hand to his mouth again, he said, “Well, you are the only goddess in this car, but you’re a beautiful woman first.”
The look in Eir’s eyes made Mason’s heart stutter in his chest. “You shouldn’t say things like that to me,” she whispered.
Really? They’d come back to that again? He thought they’d straightened all of that out before. “Why not?” he pushed, determined to get back the same Eir he’d left that morning—the Eir who had almost kissed him back in his apartment, the Eir whose cheeks flushed pink at his compliments and heated as he brushed his lips against the back of her hand.
Her chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh. “Because we’re too different.”
He gritted his teeth. “You can’t use that as an excuse, Eir. I’ve already told you I don’t care how different we are, and I don’t see why you should either.”
Eir’s mouth popped open for a moment, but then she shut it just as fast. She looked down at her lap, but a small smile was hitching up the side of her mouth. Mason saw it and his heart soared. That smile said it all.
It said she was listening and accepting his words.
A few minutes later, Mason pulled his car up behind the club, parking next to Bryn’s BMW SUV.
Opening up Eir’s door, Mason lead the Valkyrie to the back door of the club, punching the code into the keypad and opening the door.
“I was wondering when you’d get here.” Korvain’s throaty growl broke the spell Mason was under while with Eir. Looking up, he came nose to chest with the Mare. Tilting his head back, Mason met Korvain’s arctic stare and felt a shiver of fear starting at the base of his skull and running down the length of his spine.
“Korvain,” Eir said soothingly, breaking the tension. “Mason just picked me up from work. The traffic was bad.”
The Mare’s dark eyes drifted down to Eir’s face, softening perceptibly. Mason could physically feel the shift in the air as the Mare became a different person around Eir. Korvain was looking her over, no doubt checking for any visible signs of damage.
“I’m going to go upstairs and get changed,” Eir said. She turned back to Mason. “Thanks for picking me up tonight.”
Mason was holding out hope she would press a kiss to his cheek, but she simply touched his forearm briefly and made her way towards the elevator at the end of the hallway. When he looked back, Korvain’s eyes were burning.
“Pull that stunt again and I will kill you,” Korvain said. Mason knew the bastard wasn’t lying. In fact, he was pretty sure he would take great pleasure in gutting him.
“I won’t, but I have to know why it’s such a big deal.”
Korvain ran a hand through his hair, his fingers flexed into claws. “I’ve heard that Darrion has been seen around town. He’s already killed one of his own Walkers, although why he did, I have no idea.”
“Fuck.” The word left his lips harshly. “I’ll keep my ears open for any more talk.”
“Good. You’ve got work to do out there, and I’ve had to cover your ass.”
That was as much conversation as Korvain was going to have, so Mason went into the locker room to change his shirt and put his headgear into place. A few minutes later, he was ready for a night of drunken humans and loud music.
Pulling open the door between the club and the offices, Mason stepped into the Eye. The floor was probably half full, the crowd quiet compared to what he was normally greeted with. Behind the bar, Mist and Elli served drinks. Elli’s forearm was still bandaged up, but she looked mobile enough.
Mason walked towards the bottom of the stairs. One of his men who usually worked in the nightclub on level two was in his spot.
“I’ll take it from here,” Mason told the him.
“Sure.” The guy disappeared up the stairs. Mason took up his position, his eyes moving across the room. Everything seemed to be running smoothly, until his eyes came to a stop on someone he had no desire to ever see again.
Chapter 27
Galen stepped past the Valkyrie standing guard at the door. Her calculating eyes had studied him for a lot longer than any other human or god who had come through before him. That fact alone made him uneasy.
As she held him up, he got a good look at the tattoo on her neck. Against all logic, the blade actually reflected the image of his face back at him, and his fingers twitched to reach out and touch it. The goddess grunted and dropped her hand from his chest. He waited just a second longer before stepping into the dimly lit club.
He hadn’t taken more than two steps when another hand landed where the Valkyrie’s had just been. The hand belonged to Bryn’s human.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” the human asked.
“That’s none of your business,” Galen shot back, enjoying the way the human’s
eyes flared. Reaching up, he removed the man’s hand from his chest and went to walk past him.
“You’re not welcome here.” The words were thrown at his back, stopping him. Galen turned around and faced the human once more. He lifted his lips in a smile, revealing his fangs, hoping to intimidate the fuck out of the guy.
But the human stayed strong. In fact, he didn’t look at all fazed by the display.
“I’m not going to waste my time speaking to you,” Galen said slowly. “Where’s Bryn?”
“You are going to waste your time with me. She wasn’t interested in your last offer, and she sure as hell isn’t interested in your current one. In fact, I don’t think she’ll be interested in any offer you come up with, ever. The Eye is not for sale.”
Leaning in closer to the human’s face, Galen muttered his next words carefully. “I’d like to hear that from her lips.”
“Do we have a problem here?” Galen broke his gaze, turning around to look at Bryn, who had come up behind them.
He smiled, making sure to look nice and friendly. Yep, that was him, Galen—totally non-threatening.
“Good evening, Bryn. I’m here—”
“I know why you’re here,” she said abruptly, hitching one hand on her hip. “I’m not interested.”
“You don’t even know what I’m offering you.”
Her mouth flexed up in the corners, but the smile was cold and didn’t reach her eyes. “Let me make myself clear to you here, Galen. I’m not interested in selling a share of my business—large or small—and there is no price your employer could put on it that will change my mind. Am I making myself clear?”
Galen returned her smile. “Perfectly. But I’m not here for that.”
There was a subtle change in her expression, causing Galen to press on. “I understand why you don’t want to sell to Craine. You don’t know anything about him, yet he wants to buy a portion of your home.”
“You got that goddamn right,” Mason snarled at his back.
“Mason,” Bryn warned. Her eyes didn’t leave Galen’s face. “Come back to my office. I don’t want to discuss this out here.”
“Bryn, please,” the human pleaded. What a fucking pussy.
“Come,” she said, turning around and making her way through the small crowd already in the bar. Galen followed the Valkyrie, but could feel the human following him, watching him, like he had a target on his back.
Bryn reached the door leading to the hall and waited, ushering Galen through, but she stopped Mason, waving him away.
“Bryn.” His voice was strained.
“Mason,” Bryn said, “I’m fine.” She placed a hand on his forearm. Quietly, she added, “Just call Korvain down here. Will you do that for me?”
Reluctantly, Mason retreated from the hall, but not before he shot a dangerous look in Galen’s direction. Galen gave the man a smile that said fuck you as a parting gift.
Out in the hall, Bryn opened up her office and waved him in. Galen looked around, walking over to the large reproduction copy of William. T. Maud’s The Ride of the Valkyries.
Bryn stalked past him, dropping into the leather chair behind her desk. He could feel her eyes on his back, but she kept quiet. He turned around, jerking his head in the direction of the painting.
“One of your finer depictions,” he said.
Bryn’s eyes didn’t shift from his face. “Have a seat, Galen.”
He did, lowering himself into the chair opposite her. “I spoke to my boss—”
The Valkyrie put her hand up, stopping him. “I didn’t bring you back here to discuss whatever new deal your boss sent you back here for.”
Galen arched a brow. “So … why did you invite me back here?”
She ignored his question, just staring blankly at his face. They sat there for what seemed like hours before Korvain burst through the door, his muscular chest rising and falling rapidly with his harsh breath.
“What the fuck is he doing here again?” Korvain asked.
“I was waiting for you,” Bryn said.
Well, that can’t be good, Galen thought.
Korvain wandered casually around the office, the menace swirling in his eyes, which were watching Galen like a hunter watching his prey.
“What are you doing back here?” he asked, his voice low—perhaps a little too low.
“As I was telling Bryn before, I’ve spoken to my boss—”
“And I told you that I don’t give a fuck about what your boss has to offer.”
Galen sank back into the chair. He had to try another tack. Craine had told him to get close to them by any means possible. The first lie hadn’t worked. Looking abased, Galen met Bryn’s penetrating gaze.
“He’s fired me,” he said. “I fucked up and he told me not to come back to Chicago unless I wanted to be a head shorter.”
“Bullshit.” Korvain pressed his palms onto the desk and leaned down—getting into Galen’s personal space. Galen looked into those fathomless, dangerous eyes and swallowed hard. After meeting Korvain the first time, he had done his research. He’d gone down to a bar called the War Hammer and learned all about him, in fact.
He was somewhat of a legend.
He was the only Mare ever to have negotiated his contract with Darrion, the only Mare to be feared more than his guild master. He was rumored to be the last pure-blooded Mare in all the Nine Worlds, and that was why Darrion had wanted him. Galen just couldn’t figure out how the bastard had gotten him to sign the contract in his blood.
“Look, I don’t know any other way to tell you this. Craine was pissed that Bryn rejected the offer. I told him she wouldn’t accept any offer to buy a part of this property.” Galen sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “He told me not to come back if I can’t close a simple deal. He’ll kill me—and my brother—if I do.” The lies flowed so smoothly from his lips that he hardly had to think about it anymore.
Bryn’s eyes narrowed, and as he watched, Galen could have sworn that the room darkened. Every single hair on his body seemed to stand on end, and his eyes darted to Korvain.
“I suggest you leave before I remove you myself … piece by piece,” Korvain said. The lights flickered, sending the room into darkness for a split second. Galen stood up and moved towards the door.
He knew when he was beaten … unless …
Turning back around, Galen tried one last thing. “If you send me back there, you’re signing my death warrant.”
Korvain smiled, flashing his long fangs. “Happily.”
Galen licked his lips nervously. “My boss, Craine, I think he’s been manipulated by someone. He’s been acting really strangely lately.”
Bryn and Korvain shared a look. “Why would this be our problem?” Bryn asked, mistrust threaded through her voice. Galen shrugged, his mind working hard.
“I work for him, but I’d rather not be working for him if someone else has got control of the strings now.”
Korvain took a step towards him, his thick arms coming to rest across his chest. “You’re a hired killer. Why would you care where the orders come from?”
Galen shook his head. “It’s different. He’s acting like a guild master—trying to order me to do things. I began working for the humans because I didn’t want to feel as if I had no other choice, and with Craine it was always as if he presented me with a job and I could choose whether to do it or not.”
“And now?” Bryn asked.
“Now I feel as if I’ll be a member of the formerly-breathing-team if I return to Chicago with nothing. He’ll kill me. I’m sure of it.”
Korvain asked, “What do you want us to do about it? You’re a goddamn Mare. Kill the bastard first.”
Galen looked Bryn square in the eyes as he muttered his next words. “Give me a job here.”
Chapter 28
The house Darrion had chosen had been random. It could have been any house on the block in downtown Boston, but he had just walked up to this one and decided. Fading inside, he’d f
ound a family just sitting down to eat dinner together.
One big happy family, as it were.
Seeing them sitting together—a father, a mother, an older son and a younger daughter—Darrion had to block out memories of his own family, of them sitting down together to break bread and talk about the happenings of the day. His hatred had taken over then. He hadn’t thought about his family in more than a thousand years, yet the scene he had invaded was suddenly bringing all those memories back …
And he hated them.
He hated what they represented.
He hated that he would never have that again.
Ignoring their demands that he tell them who he was, he pulled a blade out and threw it into the face of the mother, seconds before fading behind the father and slitting his throat with another. The children screamed, their high-pitched cries reminding him of a screaming horse being cut down. He felt no pity. To him, they were two loud, annoying things that needed to be silenced.
He turned towards the girl first. The sound of metal slicing the air silenced her, her small body slumping down in the chair, his blade buried to the hilt in her throat. The boy stopped screaming at that point, staring blankly at the red stain spreading across the tablecloth under his sister’s limp form.
He turned towards Darrion, his blue eyes blinking slowly. Darrion was sure there was more screaming to come, but the boy simply stared at him. Blood gurgled and foamed from his sister’s lips, creating an eerie soundtrack. With a sneer, Darrion pulled one more blade free and flicked his wrist towards the kid’s chest.
The boy winced when the knife sank home, dropping his eyes to look down at the handle. Darrion watched— fascinated—as the color drained from his cheeks and a trickle of blood dribbled from his mouth.
His upper body drooped a second later, the hilt propping him up on the edge of the table. When his body grew still, Darrion pressed his index finger against the boy’s shoulder, pushing him back into his chair. Gripping the handle of the knife, he dragged it from the flesh of the boy as a trickle of blood escaped the large wound—the gash a grotesque grimace in his chest.