by Lauren Dawes
Bryn made her eyes move off Kara. That girl didn’t need Bryn’s pity—not now. She looked at Mist. Her girl looked more collected. The tears had been wiped clear of her eyes. Now they were filled with a fire to hurt whoever had gone after Rota. The blue blade she carried had yet to be drawn.
‘Alright. Let’s go.’
Kara couldn’t fade anymore. It was Odin’s one last fuck-you to her, so they all crammed into the BMW X6 they kept for emergencies such as these.
Mist sped through the early morning traffic without stopping—red lights be damned. Fifteen minutes later, Bryn was sweating bullets. As soon as the car came to a stand-still, all the women were scanning their surroundings. The street was quiet, all the humans already asleep.
As they approached Rota’s opened front door, Bryn knew they were too late. The stench of death was in the air, the sickly scent of freshly-spilled blood in her nose and on the back of her tongue.
Mav went in first, sword drawn. Bryn followed her soldier in, eyes scanning. They stopped at the large congealed puddle of blood on the floorboards in the entrance hall. Bryn swallowed bile.
‘Gods,’ Mist said on a whimper, dropping to her knees. Her sword clattered to the ground beside her. Kara dropped to Mist’s side, her head bowed. Bryn didn’t feel like she was in her body, that what she was looking at was even real. Bryn dragged her eyes from the sanguinary scene, fixing them on Maverick.
‘Mav, find her cloak,’ she croaked.
She nodded and disappeared up the stairs, her black sword drawn. Bryn forced herself to look at everything around her, to see all the blood, to see the evidence of Rota’s last minutes of life.
Bryn felt more than saw Mav return; a shadow standing in her periphery. She glanced up. ‘Did you find it?’
Mav shook her head, the anguish she couldn’t voice plain on her face.
Rota was dead.
Bryn’s legs gave out and she collapsed onto the ground, separate from the others like she couldn’t stand to be near them with Rota’s blood on her hands.
She had failed.
She had failed.
The words swirled around in her head until she wanted to scream. She only realized she was screaming out loud when Mist was taking her hand, talking her down.
‘Bryn, we have to get out of here. Whoever did this could still be around, watching for more Valkyries to come.’
She had a point, but Bryn couldn’t make her legs work. Her own failure was like lead in her blood. She couldn’t purge herself of it. Mist tried picking her up and failed.
‘Mav, give me a hand.’
When they were back in the safety of Bryn’s apartment, they sat together in the lounge room, each silently contemplating what it meant.
Kara hugged her body tightly; Mist’s arm was over her shoulders, a blanket covering them both.
Bryn cleared her throat. ‘I’ll take first watch.’ She looked at the others, knowing she couldn’t fail them, too. ‘All of you get some sleep. Mav, I’ll wake you up in a few to take over.’
Mist and Kara shuffled off to Mist’s apartment, leaving Bryn with Mav. The haunted look in her girl’s eyes tightened Bryn’s chest. Placing her hand on the other woman’s shoulder, she said, ‘We’ll find out what happened. Don’t worry.’ Mav nodded and walked off down the hallway.
Bryn sat alone on the sofa letting all her anger rage and roil. How had this happened? There was only one way. It was more than just a coincidence.
Odin was behind this. He just had to be.
* * *
Loki needed a weapon.
He had gone into Roxbury after being discouraged from going there at night. He was walking along a deserted street when he caught sight of a man up ahead. His dark skin helped him to blend into the surrounding shadows, his clothing adding to the disguise.
The human glanced up, hearing the scuff of Loki’s shoes, standing up to his full height when he was a few feet away. Loki looked at the man from the corner of his eye. As he passed, the human muttered something quietly.
Loki stopped and turned. ‘What did you say?’
The guy looked up the street, left and right then did it again. When he was satisfied nobody else was around to hear him, he said, ‘What are you after?’
This expression puzzled Loki, but the man proceeded. ‘You looking to score?’
‘Score what?’ he enquired.
The man’s eyes made a sweep of the surrounds again before they met Loki’s gaze. ‘You want H? I’ve got H.’
H. The man who stole his shoes in St Louis spoke of H. ‘What is this, H, you are talking about?’
The man’s eye twitched before his face clouded over with irritation. ‘Heroin, man,’ he replied. ‘Fuck it. Get outta here, man!’ He turned away from Loki and started walking up a small laneway.
Was he an apothecary? Loki called after him, ‘Are you an apothecary?’
The man turned around, glowering at Loki. ‘What are you talking about, man?’ The human started inching his way closer to him, his interest piqued.
‘Apothecary. Alchemist. Herbalist.’ The man’s expression changed from confusion to comprehension with the last word.
‘I ain’t got no Mary Jane, only the hard stuff. So you want it or not?’ A bitter acrid smell that clung to his clothes got stronger as the distance between them closed.
‘Yes. I wish to...score.’ The vernacular the human
had used sounded strange coming out of his mouth.
The man’s head jerked around. ‘This way then.’
Loki followed him to a large black car parked on another street close by. The human opened up the back and leaned in. There was a popping noise and a side compartment opened.
‘How much do you want?’
‘I do not know.’
The guy looked over his shoulder and shook his head. ‘For real? Look, how about a gram?’ He produced a small plastic bag with whitish-brown powder in it. ‘It’ll cost you two hundred.’
Loki eyed the bag held up in front of his face. ‘I don’t have two hundred.’
‘Then get the fuck outta here.’
Loki straightened his back. He had seen the result of the drug on humans in St Louis. He could use it to subdue the next Valkyrie. Perhaps it was a better option than a gun.
‘I don’t have two hundred. But I want the heroin.’ He took the plastic bag from the man’s fingers and disappeared it into his pocket. When Loki looked up again, the dealer had a weapon pointed at his chest.
Moving faster than the man, Loki stepped aside, grabbing the body of the pistol and twisting it free of the human’s grip. Loki’s free hand slammed into the man’s unguarded midsection, doubling him over. Ramming his elbow into his nose, Loki felt cartilage popping. Blood sprayed in a small arc covering the man’s face.
The dealer dropped to his knees; a wet coughing filling the night air. Loki picked up the weapon from where it had landed and looked it over. It seemed like a simple enough design.
Pointing it at the man’s head, he pulled the trigger. A mass of bone and brain matter burst over the back of the car and pavement. Loki faded back into his room at the hotel, the gun still smoking in his hand.
Walking calmly into the bathroom, he turned on the shower. Placing the gun and the drugs onto the countertop, he got under the spray in his clothes. The sinkhole gurgled softly, swallowing every trace of blood from Loki’s clothing. When they were finally clean, he stripped off his clothes and left them to dry.
Chapter Fourteen
Korvain woke to the sound of his phone vibrating on the night stand. Reaching out, he palmed the thing and answered the call.
‘Korvain?’
Korvain sat up in bed, wiping his face with the back of his hand. ‘Bryn?’ Her voice sounded strange, sad almost. His chest tightened a little. ‘What’s wrong?’
A long pause.
‘Nothing’s wrong...I just need to see you down at the club.’
‘Okay. I’ll be there soon.’
He thumbed the phone and dropped it into the tangle of sheets. He looked over at the clock. It was nearly six o’clock in the evening. Maybe she wanted him in on another shift.
He dressed and armed himself before fading to just outside the rear door of the club in the darkened alleyway. His body vibrated with a combination of the wards, which protected the building, and anticipation of seeing Bryn again.
He raised his fist to the door, but before it made the connection, the door snicked open. Bryn must have been too busy to answer. He pulled open the external door and stopped.
He listened and heard...absolutely nothing.
The club was quiet, and he wasn’t talking about a small crowd, he was talking about no-lights-no-music-no-people quiet. He went through the door that led into The Eye, his gaze sweeping the room. There was absolutely no movement, the lights off, the hum from the small refrigerators behind the bar the only sound. Turning around, he headed in the direction of Bryn’s office. A sliver of light pushed out from beneath the door, a soft sound like sobbing vibrating through the wood.
Korvain turned the knob and eased the door open with his foot; the light spilling out onto his lower body. Bryn looked up briefly. She was curled up in her office chair, her eyes red, wet streaks trailing down her face.
An unfamiliar feeling floored Korvain—a foreign, wrong feeling that threatened to pierce the armor he had worn since entering Darrion’s service. It left him desperately trying to catch his breath, to force air into his lungs. But when he looked at Bryn so close to breaking, he pushed the cloying feeling aside and focused only on her.
‘Where is everyone?’ he asked gently, easing the door closed behind him. Her scent engulfed him instantly.
‘Club’s closed for the night.’
He let his surprise roll over him before replying. ‘Why?’
Bryn shrugged and dragged herself out of the chair, only to reach for a desk drawer. She pulled out a bottle of vodka and cracked the lid, dropping it into the waste paper basket beside her.
‘Look, I’ll come back later.’
He turned to leave, but Bryn’s whispered words stopped him. ‘Don’t go.’
Sucking in a deep breath, he turned to her again. She had the bottle on her lips now, tipping it back, her throat working down the liquor as if she was dying of thirst. Korvain winced. There was that feeling again. He rubbed absently at a spot in the middle of his chest. ‘You want to tell me about it?’
‘No.’ Bryn tilted her head back and took another mouthful. Her eyes slid shut, her face contorting before straightening up again. When she opened her eyes, there was pain sitting behind them.
Korvain approached the desk. Bryn’s wary eyes watched him, her fingers cranking down harder around the glass in her hand.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?’ he asked softly, perching himself on the edge of the desk, facing her. Bryn moved the chair back a little, hugging the bottle to her chest.
‘No.’
He was getting tired of hearing that word. He tried again. ‘I’ve been told I’m a good listener.’
She sighed, defeated. ‘Just forget about it, Korvain.’ Bryn ran a hand through her hair. ‘I don’t even know why I called you here,’ she muttered under her breath.
He frowned at her. She had asked him to come. She had asked him to stay. Why was she pushing him away now? Leaning forward, he took the bottle from her fingers.
Bryn tried to snatch the bottle back, but Korvain drew away from her, taking the bottle and placing it on the desk top beside him.
‘Give me the fucking bottle...Now!’ When Korvain denied her with the shake of his head, she lurched forward. She lost her balance, the move sending her sprawling into his arms. He caught her easily, taking her weight and holding her close. She struggled in his arms, pushing and swearing to break his hold. Locking his thighs around her hips, he drew her in closer to his chest.
‘Just let go, Bryn,’ he murmured softly.
‘No,’ she cried. ‘No, no, no!’ Her fist landed on his chest, slamming into his body over and over again. ‘No.’ The last word was barely a whisper. Bryn had collapsed into his arms, shuddering, her face pressed into the hollow of his neck. He felt something wet slide down his skin, slipping in under his shirt and rolling down his stomach.
He knew as soon as he’d drawn her in that he shouldn’t have. He was getting too close. Lifting his free hand, he went to push her away, but found he couldn’t do it. She just fit too perfectly against his body. Pumping his hand into a fist a few times, he finally flattened his palm and began rubbing slow circles on her back. Bryn’s body calmed almost instantly, her sobs slowing. She relaxed even further into his arms until he was wearing her like a second skin. Dipping his head, he stuck his nose behind her ear and drew in the scent of her hair.
He didn’t know how long they stayed like that—him holding onto her, her hanging onto him like he was the only solid thing in her life. It was her rasping voice that finally broke the silence.
‘One of my girls was killed last night.’ Bryn cleared her throat. ‘She...her body was gone, but there was enough blood on the ground to tell us that she was,’ she coughed, ‘dead.’ Korvain let the words sink in.
‘Are you sure? I thought Valkyries were immortal. Could she have just been taken somewhere else?’
She made a noise in the back of her throat, pulling away to look at his face. ‘Immortality is a lie,’ she replied. ‘Cut us and we’ll bleed, do enough damage to our bodies and we’ll take our last breath just like everybody else.’
‘But what about...’ he paused.
‘About what?’
He stroked her long hair down her back, lingering on the softness of it. ‘Nothing.’
Bryn exhaled sharply. ‘Korvain, can I ask you a favor?’
‘Name it,’ he replied, running strands of her thick blonde hair through his fingertips.
‘Can you please keep a close eye on the other Valkyries out there?’
His brows popped. ‘Kind of like security?’
She nodded. ‘I’d pay you, of course.’
‘Of course,’ he muttered to himself. ‘How many are we talking here?’
Bryn pulled away from his arms, scrubbing her face with a hand. She inhaled deeply. ‘There are five more of us. They all live in Boston, in and around Beacon Hill. I’ve spoken to them all, but they don’t believe they’re in any danger here.’
He studied her solemn face. ‘But you think they are.’
‘Yes.’
‘You know something more, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you’re not going to tell me, are you?’
She shook her head slowly. ‘No.’
He blew out a frustrated breath. ‘I’m going to need to know who I’m looking out for if I’m going to be able to protect them.’
Bryn’s eyes darted to the bottle of vodka. ‘I’m going to need that if I tell you.’ Korvain passed her the bottle, watching as her throat worked down the liquor.
Bryn wiped the back of her shaking hand across her mouth. ‘Odin. I think Odin is the one after them.’
Korvain whistled through his teeth. ‘You’re sure?’
‘No, but there are too many coincidences,’ she said.
Korvain shrugged—deciding against pushing for more information—and crooked his finger at the bottle. Bryn handed it over, their fingers brushing. Bryn seemed to shake herself before sitting down in the office chair, grabbing a spiral notebook and a pen as she did. With her head bent over the paper, she scribbled down something then handed it to him.
‘These are the names and addresses of the other Valkyries. If you could just check on them, I’d really appreciate it.’
He looked at the list and nodded.
‘Can you go and check on the girls now?’ she asked.
‘Sure.’
When he was outside in the hallway, the tightness in his chest roared back to life again. He looked at the closed door and cursed. He wante
d to be back in there with her. He wanted to be close to her again.
But then he remembered with terrifying clarity; he was supposed to kill her. He growled. ‘This is no time to be getting fucking attached.’ Dragging a hand down his face, he left the building and faded away. He would get a grip on this. He had a job to do, but he didn’t have to enjoy doing it.
* * *
The scent of the Valkyrie’s perfume lingered in the air behind her, setting up an easy trail for Loki to follow. The click, click, click of her heels echoed, bouncing off the walls of the surrounding buildings. On a street corner, she paused and peered over her shoulder.
Then she disappeared.
With a soft curse, Loki faded too, having no doubt she would be going straight to her home. He was right. He rematerialized at the walk up on Myrtle just in time to see his prey throwing harried glances over her shoulder and fumbling with the keys in the lock.
The disjointed tangle of metal fell to the ground, and Loki moved in. Wrapping one hand around her shoulders and chest, he brought the syringe of heroin to her neck and depressed the plunger, the woman going limp in his hands.
‘The wonders of the modern world,’ he muttered to himself. Potato-sacking her over his shoulder, he picked up the keys and let himself in—away from the prying eyes of humans.
Loki dropped the Valkyrie onto the living room floor, her head first hitting the edge of the granite coffee table before cracking against the floorboards. The scent of blood immediately flooded the room, hanging there like a heavy perfume. Loki sucked in a deep breath, savoring, rolling the flavor around on his tongue. At the rate he was killing, he would have his revenge on Odin sooner than he had planned.
Leaving the unconscious and incapacitated Valkyrie behind, Loki exited the living room and started up the stairs. Up on the landing, he followed the long hall runner down to the end, to the bedroom that stunk like the goddess downstairs.
Her bedroom was a copy of what was downstairs. The walls were painted a soft shade of pink, the bedspread and dust ruffle on the large bed a slightly darker shade. Running along the opposite wall to the bed were a series of doors. Opening the first, Loki discovered a bathroom, but behind the second was a walk-in closet.