by C. C. Mahon
“Not much stranger than the alternative,” he said.
“Which is?”
“That Odin himself decided that you were more worthy than his Valkyrie to wield a sacred sword.”
“Odin? He’s real?”
The wizard took a drink of wine and savored it excruciatingly slowly before answering. “I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting him. But that doesn’t mean anything.”
I left the bar more than shaken by Britannicus’ revelations.
Not only did I have a Valkyrie after me, but the wizard didn’t know her to have any weak points. No Kryptonite. And it was too late to hope to appease Odin’s crazy lady by giving her her sword back: she’d promised to murder us, my employees and me, even if she got her precious plaything back.
This being said, all was not lost. The plaything in question was still in my possession, and for some unknown reason, it seemed to like me.
I hoped it was the sword and not Odin. The idea that a Viking god could not only exist, but also be interested in little old me made me uneasy. For the moment, he might have my back, but for how long? After all, Odin had apparently disavowed his Valkyrie because she’d fallen for the charm of a human. What kind of asshole required that his subordinates remain celibate? A big old macho, that’s who. And I did not want to fall back in the grasp of one of these dirtbags, whether he be Viking or not, and especially a god. I’d already given enough.
When I’d snuck out of Club 66, I’d had the idea of provoking Goldilocks to attack me and to end this once and for all. Now that I knew what I was up against, I was less sure of myself. I decided to hail a cab and go back to hide in my loft.
The night was still young, and at this time, it was nearly impossible to find an available taxi on the Strip. But I knew a spot, just behind a big casino, where all the drivers turned around after they’d dropped off their fares. With a little luck, I could catch one.
I left the liveliness of the Strip to enter a quiet alleyway. Serious mistake, clearly. I’d only taken fifteen steps when Goldilocks jumped me with her usual cry. Now that I knew more about her, I found her battle cry less ridiculous and more worrying. I wasn’t just dealing with a crazy person; I was dealing with a crazy goddess. The nuance was significant.
But the sword was pulsing in my hand, and its blade engulfed in flames seemed like a natural extension of my body.
The Valkyrie had restocked on machetes and knives of all kinds, and we resumed our dance: she attacked, I cut a piece of her weapon before dodging. With her two machetes, she rarely left me an opening through which I could wound her, but I still managed to slash her forearm. If I was to believe the scream she let out, she’d definitely taken a hit to her goddess’s ego. How could a mere mortal have wounded a Valkyrie? I didn’t have the slightest idea, but I decided to use that mystery to destabilize my opponent.
I inflicted small wounds on her arms, her thigh, and in one memorable moment her ass. My change of strategy paid off almost immediately; each blow was greeted by an indignant roar and an increasingly frenzied fighting style. Unfortunately, that meant that I was also getting wounded a lot. If we were going to play that game, the one with the most stamina was likely to win. And even if I was the one wielding the magical sword, I was still only human. In front of me, the goddess might not have been in her best shape, but she was still a goddess.
“Can we talk about this?” I attempted between two swings of weapons.
“I will feast on your entrails!” replied the goddess.
“Seriously, this is going nowhere. Let’s negotiate.”
“I’ll drink my mead from your skull!” replied the goddess before launching into a speech listing all the abuses she was going to inflict upon me and the ways they would please Odin.
I really wasn’t sure I wanted to work for a guy like that.
But I had a more pressing problem than the questionable morals of the Nordic pantheon: the fatigue that hampered my reflexes and slowed down my movements. Even the flames of the sword seemed to dim.
It was time to switch tactics once again.
I pushed back the fatigue and concentrated on the image of Nate in animal form. Maintaining this image in my head while dodging the Valkyrie’s attacks proved itself more difficult than anticipated, and I accumulated more lacerations for my effort.
I murmured the incantation and encouraged the tingles to spread across the entire surface of my skin. Once it was done, I projected them to the right and the left, in the darkness of the alleyway.
When the first grizzly appeared, the Valkyrie turned away from me to face the new threat. She saw through the illusion in less than two seconds. It was long enough for me to hide behind the image of a second grizzly and to make a third one appear just for good measure.
“Your chimaeras don’t impress me, witch!” spat the Valkyrie before turning to attacking the third grizzly.
It was the first time that I projected several illusions at once, and I wasn’t able to personalize the movements of my bears. I focused on the one that Goldilocks had just attacked, and the other two started fighting invisible opponents in the same exact way.
I endowed my grizzlies with a lightness and speed that bears didn’t possess in reality, and the Valkyrie quickly realized she was fighting shadows. It was now time for a strategic retreat. I took off running, still hidden by the image of the grizzly, and mirrored by the other two illusions. The Valkyrie let out a roar and ran after us.
My only hope was to drop the illusions as soon as I hit the Strip, and blend into the crowd. And that’s what I was about to do when Detective King appeared in front of me.
I saw the cop’s face contort in fear (three grizzlies were running at full speed towards her), and she raised her weapon and squeezed the trigger before I had time to lift my illusions.
The first two bullets went over my head (King had aimed at the grizzly’s head, ten inches above my skull). I dropped the illusion and dove to the side before the detective let off two more shots.
The Valkyrie took the two bullets to the chest.
The double hit threw her on her back, and for a moment, I thought King had rid me of all my problems.
The cop holstered her weapon and hurried to kneel next to Goldilocks. It was time for me to slip away.
I should’ve left without asking any questions. Instead, I stayed slumped on the ground while King examined Goldilocks.
Suddenly the Valkyrie sat up and grabbed King by the throat.
I jumped to my feet, and the Valkyrie immediately lost interest in King. She threw the cop away like a rag doll, and King hit her head against a manhole cover. Goldilocks picked up her weapons and ran towards me.
The Strip was only a couple steps away: I should’ve turned on my heels and disappeared into the crowd. It’s what I had intended to do. It was my only chance to get away. But King was lying on the ground like a broken doll. She was knocked-out, maybe seriously hurt, and I couldn’t abandon her. If I left, she was going to die. At that moment, I was sure of it.
So I stayed.
On jelly legs, with trembling hands and a nearly extinguished sword, I welcomed the Valkyrie’s assault. Or at least I tried, because at the last moment, a very real grizzly came between my opponent and myself.
At the same moment, two strong arms pulled me backwards and out of the alley.
“You okay, boss?” Matteo whispered in my ear.
I tried to free myself, but his arms were like vices.
“Let the teddy bear take care of it,” added the vampire. “It’s what he does.”
“No!” I yelled. “It’s not what he does, and you’re going to let go of me right now.”
In the alley, the grizzly let out a roar of pain.
“You don’t know what you’re dealing with,” I said. “Let me go!”
He ended up doing as I ordered, and I ran back into the alley.
Nate was on the ground—human, naked, and unconscious.
Goldilocks turned her back on me.
Perched above my grizzly, she was ready to plunge her machete into his heart.
A few feet further, King had regained consciousness. Sitting on the pavement, her eyes bulging, she was aiming her weapon at the Valkyrie.
The barrel of the gun flashed four times as four bangs resonated in my ears. Goldilocks barely registered the hits. She repositioned herself above Nate and raised the machete with two hands above her head.
There was no time for discreteness anymore.
My anger spread to my sword, which was once again engulfed in flames, as I threw myself at Goldilocks.
I didn’t let out a cry so as not to alert her to my presence. I settled for plunging my sword into her back.
I pierced her mid-back with the blade and buried it a dozen inches. Goldilocks let out a cry of distress and let go of her machete. She attempted to move to turn around. I knew that if I let her, her movement would tear the sword from my hands. Therefore I took the hilt in both hands, shoved my foot against the Valkyrie’s butt, and pulled as hard as I could to take back my sword.
The blade came out with a sizzle and the smell of seared meat. My stomach did a somersault, and only sheer force of will kept me from throwing up.
The Valkyrie shot me a look of disbelief, stood up, and ran away unsteadily.
I wanted to run after her, but Nate whimpered, and he was covered in blood. I swore and knelt in front of him.
Nate was unconscious. A large gash crossed his chest, and blood flowed from it in time with his heartbeat.
That couldn’t be a good sign.
Everyone had their limits, and metamorphs were no exception.
How much blood could Nate lose before his magical metabolism gave in? How many minutes before it was too late?
“Boss!” called out Matteo. “The detective needs help.”
“Nate’s hurt,” I replied. “I don’t know what to do.”
Matteo appeared at my side. “Take care of the human,” he said. “I’ll take care of our teddy bear.”
He placed his arms under Nate’s shoulders and knees and lifted him like a groom carrying a bride over the threshold. Except that Nate was easily the size of two or three young ladies. However, the vampire didn’t seem to struggle and left in a hurry, carrying a naked, unconscious man covered in blood.
Leaving me face to face with the detective.
29
I turned my attention back to King.
She was still sitting, and she’d dragged herself a few feet back to lean against a wall. The place reeked of urine, and I wouldn’t have rubbed off the sole of my shoe on it, but that was clearly the least of her worries. She was clutching her throat with one hand and her gun with the other, and she was making strange gasping noises with each of her labored breaths.
I tried to crouch down near her, but she aimed her weapon at me and tried to speak.
I couldn’t understand her words, but her intentions were clear.
I took a step back and sheathed my sword.
“I’m gonna call an ambulance,” I said. “My phone is in the pocket of my jeans. I’m gonna take it out. Don’t shoot.”
I kept one hand clearly visible and grabbed my cell phone with the tips of my fingers before dialing 911.
I told the operator that the detective had been the victim of an attempted strangling, that she was armed, and that she refused to let me near her.
“I think she’s in shock,” I said. “She’s having trouble speaking, but I think she’s delirious.”
I felt guilty for making King seem like the hysterical victim of hallucinations. But the alternative was explaining the presence of a Scandinavian goddess, a magical sword, and a metamorph in the streets of Vegas. Not to mention our beautiful vampire. I didn’t see how that conversation could end well.
A few minutes later, I heard the sirens of an ambulance and disappeared into the heart of the crowd.
I managed to hail a taxi to go back to the club.
En route, I half listened to the driver tell me conspiracy theories about Area 51 and its little green men. This time the aliens (or the army, no one knew for sure) had taken a city off the map in under two hours. The predominant theory was a mass abduction, but my driver was leaning toward a new experimental weapon by the American army. This city was crazy, I thought, and its residents were ready to believe anything. Compared to this story, my Valkyrie, my magical sword, and my supernatural employees were almost mundane.
Gertrude was in tears as she greeted me at the entrance of the club. Nate was still unconscious, and no one knew what to do.
His gash had turned a worrying shade of green. Matteo was positive that our teddy bear had been poisoned. I grabbed my phone once again.
“Watson,” mumbled a sleep-filled voice.
“Brit, do you do house calls? It’s an emergency.”
Even at this late hour, Britannicus was dressed to the nines. He arrived with his doctor’s bag, examined Nate, mumbled who knew what between his teeth, and declared himself incompetent.
He took me aside to speak to me quietly. “It’s a type of poison that I’ve never seen. The Valkyries have a long common history with the berserkers. They must know their secrets.”
“ ‘Berserker,’ it means metamorph?” I asked.
“A particular class of metamorph warrior,” he said. “They had their own wizards and rituals. I’ll have to contact my Norwegian colleagues to know more.” He checked his watch and picked up his bag. “I’m heading back to the Guild and getting straight to work. I’ll call you as soon as I’ve found something.”
Nate had gone from pale to greenish. His skin was covered in icy sweat that smelled of overripe fruit. Gertrude had equipped herself with a bucket of warm water and a towel, and she’d gotten to work cleaning the green liquid oozing from the wound. But the metamorph’s body seemed to produce it faster than Gertrude could wash it.
I observed the young troll get to work without a word, her face guarded and jaw clenched. Barb was going back and forth between the first floor, where she was allowed to smoke, and the basement, where she hovered around Nate like a mother hen about to have a nervous breakdown.
My eyes met Matteo’s, leaning against the bar.
“Boss, a word in the kitchen?” he asked.
I followed him into his domain. The swinging door closed behind us, and Matteo immediately turned around.
“What were you thinking, running off like that?” he asked.
“What are you talking about?”
“Nate had gone up to knock on you door, and you were gone.”
“It’s my place,” I said. “I can leave when I want.”
“Without telling us?” he replied.
“Who do you think you are? You’re not my keeper, and I don’t owe you anything. If you try to incapacitate me like you did tonight one more time, I guarantee you that you will never set foot in this club again.”
“I did it to protect you,” he protested.
“And now Nate might die! You had no idea what you were walking into, you refused to listen to me because I have a pair of ovaries rather than a pair of balls, and now I have a cop in the hospital, a bear that’s dying, and a Valkyrie on the run!”
Two gasps echoed from the other side of the door, informing me that our “private” conversation wasn’t private at all.
“A Valkyrie?” repeated Matteo. “A real Valkyrie?”
“According to Britannicus, yes.”
With a nod, I ordered him to follow me to the main room, where Gertrude and Barbie greeted us with alarmed expressions.
“Boss,” asked Barb, “is this for real?”
Gertrude, for her part, was perfectly still. She’d even given up on twisting her towel in her big hands. It would appear to be a common reaction for trolls to transform themselves to stone out of fear.
Matteo had also noticed the young waitress’ demeanor. “Gertrude,” he asked in a soft voice, “is everything okay?”
Gertrude blinked and sniffed. “Sorry,�
� she said. “It’s just that I grew up hearing stories about Valkyries. When little trolls are bad, they’re told that Valkyries are going to kidnap them. The good thing about living in America and not in Norway is that you can tell yourself all that was left behind, in the Old World. So…” She began wringing her hands again, and the towel she was holding ripped loudly.
“What can you tell us about Valkyries?” I asked.
“They work for Odin. They have wings, like Barbie, except they’re black with raven feathers. They fly over the battlefields and decide who dies and who will be victorious.”
“Any weaknesses?” I asked.
Gertrude furrowed her brow. “They cannot submit to any man. Certain legends refer to them as ‘Odin’s maidens’ and state that they must only take him as their husband. According to my mother, it’s more complicated than that. The Valkyries can…well, you know, with whoever they want. But they must not submit themselves to the will of any male, whether he be mortal or divine, except Odin himself.”
“So that’s why she lost her sword,” I murmured.
“Boss,” asked Barbie, “maybe it’s time to fill us in?”
I slumped into the chair closest to Nate. “What I’m about to tell you, I learned tonight, thanks to Britannicus. Our hysterical blonde is indeed a Valkyrie. Rumor has it one time she fell in love with a man, but the man left, taking the Valkyrie’s sword with him. To punish her, Odin took away her powers, and since then, the Valkyrie has been searching for the man who betrayed her and the sword he stole.”
“That sword?” asked Matteo and pointed to the drawing tube still attached to my back.
“It looks that way,” I said. “If I had to guess, I’d say that Callum, my ex, is the mortal referred to in the rumor. It fits him, to manipulate a woman to con her and dump her afterwards. I don’t know how long ago this was, and Callum must’ve changed identities and cities since then. But the Valkyrie ended up finding him, three weeks ago in Chicago. She tortured him to get him to give up who had the sword. He told her I’d taken off with it. He gave her my family’s address. She killed him, then she killed my family.”