by Angel Lawson
Valkyrie’s Claim
Academy of Immortals (Book 2)
Angel Lawson
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Afterword
1
Hildi
“Unbelievable. Absolutely fucking unbelievable.”
“Which part? Roland showing back up or Marshal being a traitor?” Rupert asks me. “Honestly, I should’ve seen it coming.”
I stop my pacing and look at the immortal prince.
“Why didn’t you?” Agis asks, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“I’ve been off for weeks, you know that. I got so sick the night you found the key and opened the gate. I think it took all of my psychic energy. I’ve been off balance ever since.”
“It doesn’t matter why we didn’t see it coming,” Armin says, brushing his long blond hair over his shoulder. “What are we going to do about it?”
“We sure as hell aren’t letting him find the key.”
The four of us lock eyes. I have the key, safely hidden, or at least I hope so. I’d hidden it in an enchanted box made of iron and secured it on the grounds. I know it’s temporary until I find something different, something more secure, but I had to do something. Just thinking about the dark abyss beyond the door and the multi-eyed, winged monsters that protect the doorway of the temple makes my skin clammy.
Agis crosses his massive arms over his chest. “Rupert’s right, psychic abilities or not, we should have seen him coming. I know Dylan threw him out, but missing out on all the fun and debauchery of the apocalypse? He’s probably been looking for a way to get here the whole time.”
“Do you really think the gods sent him?” I ask.
“I doubt they’re happy we pressed the pause button on their game,” Miya replies. He’s been quiet this whole time, sitting in the window seat, staring outside. “They want their crusade, but I’m sure he made himself available.”
“He offered something,” Agis adds. “A deal, an agreement, something to get them to let him play.”
“Then we have to figure out what that is,” I say, rubbing my forehead. This whole thing had gone from bad to worse. We came here with a simple but daunting task. Find the stone, get to the temple, open the gate, claim victory—end the apocalypse.
We’d expected a battle landscape. Instead, we got a stupid Academy filled with teenagers, impulsive and hormonal. They’re all touched by the gods; demons, demi-gods, witches, a Nephilim—Lucifer’s son, of all people. My first roommate was a freaking vampire. My second? A gods-damned fairy. Their parents are royals, upping the stakes in the battle for the apocalypse. For them, it’s a land grab. Expanding their realms. For us? It’s saving humanity.
The worst part is, we weren’t even supposed to be here. This is the Raven Guard’s job. They’d done it before. But Morgan is pregnant, and I’d volunteered, yes, volunteered to come in their place, leading the motley crew of Immortals. Who are as much of a distraction as allies. They are ridiculously handsome, with unbelievable bodies, unparalleled strength, and boat-loads of anxiety from being enslaved for eternity.
I glance over at Miya. “We agreed on a truce with Luke, Marielle, and the twins. Do you think they’ll hold to it?”
The Japanese warrior looks at me for the first time since we left Roland’s new office. The simple action of his eyes sweeping over me sets my skin on fire. We’d been intimate—although it was an act of mercy. I was under the influence of Marielle, my vampire roommate, horny and desperate as hell. He’d broken decades of celibacy to help me. Now? Things are awkward.
Miya stands, his long robes falling to his feet. I hold his eyes, feeling the flicker of vampire venom still lingering in my veins. I’m not sure it will ever stop calling to me.
“The gods want amusement as much as they want a war—again, it’s why they sent us, and all of the royals' children, here. We bide our time. Figure out Roland’s plan. Keep the key hidden. Play their game while we play our own.”
Agis nods and Armin sets his jaw, both quietly agreeing. Rupert sighs and says, “What about Marshal?”
That’s a loaded question. Marshal and I’d been hate-fucking for weeks now. Blowing off steam—and well, simply blowing one another. There hadn’t been anything to it—no emotions—no connection. At least, that’s what I tell myself. I look away from the others, blinking back hot tears of betrayal. He’d sided with Roland—the winner’s side, in his opinion.
“Fuck Marshal,” I say. “He’s a bastard and disloyal and we don’t need him to win this.”
Not one of the Immortals look convinced, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned over my lifetime, there’s something to the term “fake it ‘til you make it.” I’m definitely faking it.
“If we’re going to play their game, there’s only one thing we can do,” I say, looking at Rupert. “We’re going to Marshal’s party.”
“Is that what you’re going to wear?” Elizabeth asks, eyeing me from across our dorm room. I’m still in my school uniform. She’s wearing a wispy, flowy dress with long tendrils hanging from the skirt.
“What’s wrong with this?” I ask, smoothing out the skirt. To be honest, I’ve gotten used to the ease of the uniform. I’m here to work, not play, so the less time thinking about what I’m going to wear, the better.
“It’s a party, Hildi. Play the part.”
I narrow my eyes at my roommate. Elizabeth is a tiny girl with soft, pink hair. She looks like a child. I suspect something very different lies beneath the façade. “What do you mean, play the part?”
“You’re a Valkyrie. A total badass. This is the first event you’re going to since you killed Headmaster Garland, and Headmaster Roland replaced him. If you’re going to sway the rest of the students on campus to follow you, then you’ll need to lead them.”
“And that starts tonight?” I ask, feeling like this is overly complicated.
“It’s already started.” She tosses me a pair of tight leather pants. I stare down at them.
“Seriously?”
“Of course. Those pants will show everyone that you’re rough, resilient, determined.”
“How do you figure that?” I stroke the buttery leather. They are high quality.
“Only a certain kind of person can wear a pair of pants like that. They’re like armor. A pain in the ass to put on and take off. If a guy wants in them? He has to be committed to getting them off.”
“I’m more interested in his commitment to getting me off,” I mutter. “I didn’t know you were such a complex thinker.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Hildi Axel, but you can trust me. I think I proved that.”
She’d gone after Armin when he was injured, making sure he was safe. I don’t know much about Elizabeth, other than the fact she’s Fae and has impeccable timing, and a desire to be on the winning side of this war. We need allies. If I need to put on a pair of leather pants to prove my trust, I can do that.
“I’ll meet you in the lounge,” she says, heading out the door.
I undress and pull on the pants, tugging them over the curves of my body. They fit like a glove, and I get the strange sense that the leather is molding to my body. There’s the tingle of magic, and if Elizabeth can charm pants to make my ass look great, she’s a worthy ally, indeed.
Now I just need a shirt.
I bend before the trunk at the end of my bed, flipping open the lid. The trunk had been waiting for me when I arrived through the portal. It was filled with a few personal items—more than I’d packed—along with necessities. It’d also held Morgan’s blade—the one forged by Damien. The one I’d used to kill Headmaster Gardener.
I rummage around, looking for a black shirt I know I’ve seen before. “Ah!” I say to myself when I find it. “Gotcha.”
My finger grazes something on the bottom. A loose object—like jewelry. I pick it up and electricity jolts up my hand. I drop it and it lands quietly against fabric. It’s a ring. Smooth, etched silver. A deep purple stone in the setting. I’ve never seen it before. I pick it up and place it on my finger. It, like the pants I’m wearing, fits perfectly.
I pull the shirt over my head and walk over to the mirror. It’s stringy, the fabric slashed across the chest and back. It’s less shirt and more like pieces of fabric held together by a wish. My black lace bra peeks out and the straps criss-cross over my back. I quickly fix my hair, smoothing out the long, blonde strands. The ring glints in the light, and I wonder for a moment if I’m foolish for putting it on. The metal hums against my skin, sending warmth along my limbs.
I keep it on.
I’m not sure where it came from or who sent it to me, but I do know one thing.
It’s now mine.
When I agreed to lead the Immortals in the Crusade, it was assumed I would need to keep the five semi-feral warriors in line. They’d spent years in captivity, first as members of Camulus’ army, later as slaves to the Shaman. They were raw, territorial, horny, and depraved. We had a mission—get the key, go to the temple, stop the apocalypse. From there we could part ways. My job would be to keep them focused and on task. I’d keep them civilized.
So far I’d slept with Armin multiple times. Battled with Agis. Convinced Miya to break his vow of celibacy and turned on some kind of hyper-psychic link between me and Rupert.
None of that is compared to what has been going on with me and Marshal even before we got to the Academy.
My first glimpse of the party up ahead only confirms how foolish I’d been about understanding the Immortals. These men have lived many lifetimes. Although, sure, a lot of that was pillaging and burning down villages, they’re also bred from royalty. They’ve dined with kings and queens. They’ve seduced. Smoozed. And damn it to Hades, Marshal, in particular, knows how to throw a hell of a party.
Music pulses down the hall, some kind of hypnotic beat. It emanates from a tall arched door at the end of the hallway where faint pink light spills though the opening.
“Where are we?” I ask, trying to acclimate myself to our location in the school.
“These rooms are typically reserved for head boy and head girl.” She gestures to a room at the opposite end of the hall with a matching door. “I guess your boy got a promotion.”
“He’s not my boy,” I mutter, seeing him just inside the doorway. He’s wearing tight fitting slacks and a gray sweater covering a button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He’s holding a ridiculous chalice in his hand and the smile on his mouth is dangerously appealing. I know what that mouth can do, that tongue…warmth creeps up my spine.
“Hildi!”
I look down at the little fairy. “What?”
“Stop drooling over your ex.”
“He’s not my ex.”
She snorts. “Do you know how good my sense of smell is?”
“Do I want to?”
“Let’s just say I know exactly who’s been fucking who in here.” She wrinkles her nose at two underclassmen eyeing each other from across the room. “And more than once you’ve come home with Marshal’s scent all over you.”
“I have?” Yes, I’m playing dumb. It’s embarrassing. No one knows. At least I thought no one knew.
“He’s not the only one.” She winks and walks through the door. “But you knew that.”
Gods, she must think I’m a whore.
“Well don’t you look…dangerous tonight,” a voice drawls. I look back and see Luke, looking so handsome it hurts.
It’s the first time we’ve seen one another since we formed an alliance—a truce, really. That was before Roland announced himself as headmaster. Luke is Lucifer’s son—a Nephilim. He’d tried to force himself on me, and I don’t trust him.
“If you touch me, I’ll pull off your fingers, one by one.”
He has the nerve to look taken back. “I promise, from now on, I’ll only touch you if you ask for it.”
“Trust me, that’s not going to happen.” First, he’s a kid. Second, he’s an opportunistic asshole. His ideal conquest is Marielle, princess to the Vampire realm. He wants to merge their power and, well, their other parts.
Too bad she isn’t interested.
“Are you planning on standing out here all night?” he asks, not taking the hint that I’d love for him to go away.
“No,” I snap.
That’s enough to propel me inside, where I’m met with an opulent, ridiculous scene. Velvet-covered couches, leather arm chairs. A massive chandelier with black red jewels hangs in the center of the room. There’s a bar on one end, complete with bartender. Girls of all ages dance on the chairs, the counter tops, even a shiny, wooden dining room table.
“Gods this is garish,” Luke says, in a tone that implies he’s above it all.
I snort. “Really? You’re not into half-naked girls dancing on table tops?”
“One girl maybe,” he drags his eyes down my body. “But you don’t look the type to dance for just anyone.”
“You’re such a pervert.”
“Noted.” A waiter walks by holding a tray full of drinks. Luke grabs two and hands one to me. He holds his up in a toast. “To our truce.”
“It’s still on? You’re not swayed by Headmaster Roland and his desire to kick off the apocalypse?”
“I made a promise, and I stand by it.” He clinks his glass with mine and tips it back. “I’m also still pissed at my father, who clearly sent me here to die. I always knew he loathed the fact I’m a half-breed. This proves it.”
“Maybe he thought you’d win.”
Another tray passes. This one is filled with tiny chocolate cakes. Again, he takes two, handing me one.
“Against those monsters? I’m not a bad fighter. I’ve been training since I could walk. And it’s not just isolated workouts. I’m a hunted breed. My father’s existence put a target on my back. I’ve had to defend myself more times than I’d like to admit. But those things…” he shudders, “with their teeth and the wings and gods, how many eyes? I’m not here to expand my father’s realm. I’m here to have a little fun, learn to kick some ass, and hopefully nail a few goddesses.” He pops the cake into his mouth and licks his long, thin fingers. “There’s plenty of time for the apocalypse, Valkyrie. I’m not in a rush.”
“I didn’t know you had so much self-control.”
“Patience is a virtue. We don’t have those in hell, but I can see how it can be an asset.” He eyes Marielle across the room. She’s in a skin-tight, black, lace dress. “That’s the one you need to worry about. She’s a whore fo
r power.”
Right on cue, Marielle slinks across the room toward Marshal. He’s stopped mingling and has positioned himself on a black velvet chair, reminiscent of a throne. The ego on this one.
He assesses Marielle as she walks over, accepting a kiss on the cheek. Marielle smiles, genuinely. She’s had a thing for Marshal all along and was jealous of our relationship. I guess not anymore. Unfortunately, no one told my body that me and Marshal are enemies. My body thrums, even from a distance. But whatever sordid, secretive, warriors-with-benefits thing we had is over for good. I may not have the highest moral standards, but I’m not sleeping with a traitor.
“So it’s true, he’s working with the Headmaster.”
A pang echoes in my chest. Still hurts. “Yep.”
“I always knew he was an asshole, but I didn’t realize he’s also a traitor.”
I watch as Marshal’s hand creeps up Marielle’s leg. His green eyes meet mine, and his lips twist into a smug grin. There’s no doubt he’s doing this to piss me off. It works, and I reach for another drink.
“Looks like Marielle finally got what she wanted,” I say. I’m definitely not going to boost his ego watching him flirt with another girl. Turning away, I see Rupert awkwardly sitting on a small chair. His chin-length reddish hair is tied behind his neck in a small ponytail. His skin is alabaster. An air of superiority wafts off of him, despite his discomfort. No one would guess he is a deadly, strategic prince.
“What’s the deal with that one?” Luke asks, following my gaze.