Gears of Mischief (The Valhalla Mechanism Book 1)

by Kendra Moreno

  “Odin told me of his vision, the prophecy that Thor and I would be what set the gears of Ragnarök in motion, so we left Asgard and came here, assuming that we had to be in Asgard to begin the downfall of the realm. We were wrong on many fronts.”

  “Who’s Baldur?” Both Thor and Loki’s faces shut down. “You don’t have to tell me.”

  “He’s one of my brothers,” Thor admitted.

  “The Golden Child,” Loki scoffed. “No matter how cruel he is, he can do no wrong. His powers are even of the light, a contrast to Hodor’s darkness, but Hod got all the decency.”

  “He sounds like an arsehole.”

  “He is,” Thor grumbled, “but he’s pretty, so people fall at his feet.”

  I stared at him in mock horror. “He’s prettier than you?”

  Thor grumbled. “Most would say so.”

  “I don’t see how that could be possible. I mean, look at you. And you have a fancy hammer.”

  Loki chuckled, amused by my obvious inflation of Thor’s ego, but he changed the subject. “If your people do not believe you, then what is the next step? We must still wait for Skadi to send us word of whatever item can help.”

  “The mysterious item that might slow Ragnarök,” I mumbled, shaking my head. “I vote we don’t rely so heavily on that, not yet. We should tell the Queen, in person. My guild won’t take it up, so I’ll have to go to her myself.”

  Thor hummed at the plan. “Can you just walk up to your Queen?”

  “No. The moment I try to get close, it’ll be seen as treason or an attempted assassination.”

  “That’s unfortunate.”

  “Also, I’m nearly certain you two have been listed as enemies of the Queen, if I was warned away from you.”

  “Is there any good news in this situation?” Loki lamented, running a hand through his loose red hair.

  I eyed the gesture. “There are ways—”

  “Is this another ‘remove your shirts’ request?” Thor asked, grinning.

  I shrugged. “Can you blame me? Look at you two. This opportunity doesn’t present itself often. Actually, it only did so because the world is supposedly ending. Small blessings and all that.”

  Thor tried his best to hold in his laughter, but he failed, the sound tumbling out. Loki shook his head, but his lips curved up into a smile.

  “You know what,” Thor said, once he got his laughter under control. “Just because I have laughed more in your presence than I have in years, I will do what you ask.”

  I watched with wide eyes as Thor stood and pulled the white shirt over his head with one pull, revealing lines and lines of muscular golden skin. He tossed the shirt aside and put his hands on his hips, holding the pose, waiting. Standing, I took a step towards him, studying the valleys and plains.

  “Small blessings,” I murmured, tempted to touch, and looked up into his amused eyes. “If I pray to you, do you give favors?”

  Loki scoffed. “What favors could you possibly ask for?”

  “Hush, Loki, or I’ll pray for you to put that silver-tongue to use.”

  At the silence behind me, I turned and stared in surprise at the small flames dancing along the seat cushions, turning it black where it touched. There was a matching fire dancing in his eyes, and I could see the ghost of his horns again, horns I hadn’t been sure were there.

  Thor’s fingers under my chin turned my gaze back to his, his large fingers feeling as if they burnt my skin. My cheeks flushed as I met his eyes.

  “I’m near certain you could ask us for anything, Tillie,” he murmured quietly. “And we would do it, if only you keep coming to our door.”

  “You might be stuck with me,” I admitted. “People don’t typically like me without my mask.”

  “Then they’re fools.” His eyes twinkled. “Besides, we’re not some spineless Midgardians.”

  No, I thought, they most certainly were not. Giving into temptation before I needed to leave and devise a plan to hijack the Queen, I reached out careful fingers and pressed them against Thor’s considerable chest. His skin was warm, as if the lightning he commanded heated him from the inside out. I trailed my finger down his chest and over the first row of abs, the muscles twitching beneath my perusal.

  I looked up, a slow smile pulling across my lips.

  “Would now be a good time to ask about your penchant for hammering things?”

  A spark popped where my fingers touched him, and I jerked my hand away in surprise, though it hadn’t hurt me.

  “My apologies,” Thor grimaced.

  My own laughter spilled from my lips and I moved away to take a seat again, prepared to ask the two gods a million questions, but when Thor reached for his shirt, I pointed at him and grinned.

  “I think this would work best with your shirt off.”

  Thor’s own answering smile made my stomach flip. “Won’t that be distracting?”

  “Yes.” I glanced at Loki. “Would you like to join in?”

  “Only if you’re doing the same,” he shot back, a twinkle in his eyes as he patted out the last of the flames.

  I looked down at my dress, at the million ties it would take to do so. It would be no simple task to take my shirt off with this contraption, I lamented. And I was sure neither Thor nor Loki knew how to properly lace a dress back up.

  “Maybe next time,” I grumbled. I would be sure to show up in something simpler next time the opportunity presented itself.

  Bloody dresses.

  It was much later, the sun just starting to descend towards the horizon, that I stepped out of Thor and Loki’s home towards the steam car idling on the curb. Thor had wanted to walk me towards it like a proper gentleman but I had insisted that it was best not to be seen in public even in such a short amount of time together with the Guild placing them as threats. Loki had agreed, and he had refused to use any of his illusions for such a small thing, in case we needed the magic later. I hadn’t yet asked him where his powers came from, if it was not something that could be replenished, but I put it on the list of things to ask the next time I saw him. It seemed smart to have plenty saved up, just in case.

  The moment I stepped from the house and the door shut behind me, I sensed him, even before he moved from the shadows. I froze, cursing myself for being stupid to not think the Guild would place a tail on me. And of course, it had to be Calvin. Of course, it was him who stepped from the shadows and blocked the door to the steam car. The driver glanced at him and then me, asking if I needed assistance, but I shook my head. I never needed assistance to take on Calvin.

  “Whose home is this?” Calvin asked, his eyes taking in the decrepit façade before looking down at my dress. He would garner nothing from my clothing because nothing had happened. Not this time, but still, I tilted up my chin.

  “It is none of your concern who I call on,” I growled. How dare the Guild put a tail on me as if I was a person of interest!

  “It is now.” His eyes flicked to the building again. “Is it a man?”

  “Piss off, Calvin!” I growled, angry that he would dare ask me such a thing. “You have no right to ask or have the jealousy I clearly hear in your voice.”

  “Like hell I don’t.” He took a step forward and I nearly went for the small axe at my thigh. His eyes caught on the twitch of my wrist and he stopped, realizing exactly what I was capable of.

  “Like hell you do,” I snarled and then lowered my voice. “We laid together. So what? You made it very clear after that one mistake that it was nothing more than a one-time occurrence. You stated you weren’t interested, so no, you have no right to tell me a damn thing. And then you betrayed my trust.”

  I moved to step around him, to climb into the steamcar, but he blocked the way, moving with me. I stared at him with hard eyes.

  “Tillie—”

  “Don’t call me that.” I dropped a knife into my hand from where it had been hidden up my sleeve. If he would not move, I would make him. “Only people I care for call me that.” />
  “So, you don’t care for me?”

  “No.” I watched his face crumble, but he hid it just as he had been trained to do fast. “I might have, might have grown to care, before you used me for your own advancement.” That had been my shame, and the true extent of my dislike for Calvin. I hadn’t even told my mother what he’d used against me to make himself appear better suited to the position. The odds had already been stacked against me, but I was still the best, so much so, that they had to give me a chance. But then Calvin had uttered the words that made him the prime candidate, and me nothing more than a woman.

  Women are only good for seduction. I let her lure me into a coupling to see what she was capable of, and I found out. Someone like that cannot be privy to sensitive information. Women are controlled by their emotions and nothing more. Just imagine.

  Calvin had thrown me to the wolves, had claimed I was no better than a harlot, and had received the position I would have received had he not spoken them in the first place. Which he had known. And because of his own selfish desires, he had resigned to speaking ill of me, when it had been he who showed me interest first.

  Not to mention inner Guild relations were against the rules, especially when it was seen as more than a random encounter. Calvin had been offered no punishment, whereas, I had been forced into hours of cleaning duty.

  “You can take your promotion and your brown-nosing and shove it up your arse, Calvin Wench. I want nothing to do with you.” I shoved him out of the way, brandishing my knife for good measure, and turned once to look behind me. We hadn’t been quiet, not truly, and so I wasn’t surprised to see Thor’s face at the window. His gaze was hard when he stared at Calvin, but when his eyes met mine, they softened. Calvin followed my stare, but upon seeing nothing thanks to Loki’s illusions, he scowled.

  “If you continue doing things you aren’t supposed to, they’ll label you a rogue,” he said, and I didn’t miss the slight excitement that statement elicited in him.

  “If I catch you following me again,” I said, the driver opening the steam car door for me and waiting for me to step inside, “I’ll gut you.”

  Then I threw a wink towards the house where I knew Thor was watching, where I knew Loki most likely was as well, and I climbed inside.

  Calvin could go to Hell as far as I was concerned. But then again, he most likely already was, being reserved as nothing more than the Director’s lackey.

  I would have to tell my mother everything, so that I could better protect her. We wouldn’t be on the good side of the Guild for much longer, not if I continued my attempts to figure out how to stop Ragnarök.

  I just hoped it didn’t turn into an all-out war in addition to the End of Days.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I had every intention of being off that day, of meeting with Thor and Loki and making plans to take on Ragnarök, but that all came to a screeching halt when the clockwork beetle came crawling through my window. Expecting an apology or a mission, I nearly threw something through the glass panes when I decoded the message.

  At this time, your status has been changed to currently on a leave of absence. Do not come into the office.

  “Bloody wankers,” I growled, burning the piece of paper. There was no reason to really. It held no important information, but old habits die hard.

  I was livid and prepared to rip someone to shreds. Who? I didn’t know, but I found myself standing outside the Guild in the art district in the fancy dress I was to wear to Lady Smith’s newest ball, a party I was due to in an hour. I stepped inside the small gallery, my eyes going to man guarding the door and serving as curator. I meant to march past him, as I always did, but his hand shot out and stopped me.

  “Whoa. This is for employees only, miss.”

  “I am an employee,” I growled.

  “Not right now you’re not,” he argued. “I cannot let you inside.”

  “I just need to speak to the Director.” I slammed my fist against the counter in frustration.

  “Now is not the time to get hysterical,” the curator murmured, his eyes sparkling, and I nearly throttled him then and there.

  “Hysterical?” I snarled and curled up my lips. “Give me a beetle.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Give me a bloody beetle right this instant!”

  The curator hesitated before reaching under the desk and setting a clockwork beetle on the counter. I grabbed the sheet of paper he had been writing on and ripped his notes away. His protest fell on deaf ears.

  At this time, it’s best you all go fuck yourselves! How dare you send me on a leave of absence? You can all piss off as far as I’m concerned.

  I stared at the note and then thought better of it, scribbling more at the bottom.

  p.s. Calvin is afraid of heights.

  I tucked the note into the beetle’s cavity and watched as it quickly crawled away and into the Guild, disappearing to no doubt cause havoc.

  “Are you finished?” the curator asked in annoyance.

  I pulled out the dagger I kept between my breasts and slammed it down on the desk, right between his fingers. His eyes went wide at the near miss, at the gleaming metal that touched his skin.

  “You’ll know when I’m finished, Frank.”

  “My name is—” I jerked the knife from the wood and pointed it at him. “—whatever you want it to be.”

  I nodded and turned away, quickly tucking the knife back into its sheath and straightening my skirts. I strutted from the gallery, knowing I probably would never return to work in the Raven Wild Guild, not only because of my letter, but because I would refuse to work under the current Director from further on. Eventually, he would get a promotion or get assassinated, and I could be called in again.

  Realizing what I’d forgotten, I stormed back inside the gallery, Frank flinching at my entrance. “I need another beetle.”

  He practically threw the beetle at me, his fingers shaking. I took it, hastily scribbled on the paper, and sent it off. Then for good merit, I curtsied to Frank and left the gallery.

  If I never saw the Raven Wing Guild again, I wouldn’t be angry. There were plenty of things a spy could do in London, and the Raven Wing was not the only Guild under the Queen.

  I climbed into the carriage waiting for me, my mother inside, her brows raised.

  “How did it go?”

  “About as well as you’d expect. After this bloody party, we need to sit down and discuss some things, Mother.”

  “It’s about time. You should have told me right away,” she chided. She was dressed in a dress similar to mine, though the neck was higher. Lady Smith preferred formal events, loved pretending that she was a queen and we were all her people. None of us ever corrected her because the poor woman deserved some sort of fun, but it annoyed me that we always had to dress in the finest we could find. My own dress bared the tops of my breasts, the corset pressing against my flesh in a way I knew would have men bothering me all night. It was in a dark purple color, jewels stitched into the edge of the bust and the hemline. I wore my boots beneath it because no one would know the difference. I could fight in heels if needed but I preferred not to. My weapons were strapped to my thighs, small knives hidden in various places along my body. There was even a small one hidden in my hair.

  A lady could never be too careful.

  We arrived at Lady Smith’s rather quickly, the house down the street from ours, even if we had been forced to take such a long detour to the Guild first. As was usual, Lady Smith had a man opening doors for guests, and another announcing those who arrived. I often wondered how she sustained enough money to host such affairs, but her husband was some sort of merchant who owned numerous ships. I was certain she spent most of his money the moment he procured it.

  “You’re going to behave tonight, aren’t you?” my mother murmured as we drew nearer the front of the line.

  “Do I not always behave?” Our eyes met and held. “Fine. I will endeavor to be on my best behavior
.”

  “Good girl. Just remember it’s all a part of your cover.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her there was no need, not right now, not when I had been given a leave of absence and then sent the angry letter, but I only smiled and nodded once. She knew that whatever had happened, it had to be bad for me to have gotten the letter.

  As we stepped from the carriage and moved along the stairs, the announcer shouted, “Lady Kingsford, Duchess of Fife, and her daughter, Lady Ottilie Kingsford.” We both curtsied as was expected and moved into the room.

  “Behave,” my mother urged once more before floating off to thank Lady Smith for inviting us.

  I kept my mask in place even though I really wanted to roll my eyes. I knew the serene smile pulling at my lips made me appear docile and gentle. It was the mask that was expected for an unmarried woman, one I had made often enough that it was second nature. Carefully, I picked my way through the room, searching the table of hor d’oeuvres. Lady Smith always had the best crab cakes.

  “Lady Kingsford?”

  I sighed and turned, holding a crab cake in my palm. “Yes?”

  The man was young, handsome even, but he paled in comparison to the two men I had been spending my time with.

  “I saw you from across the room and knew I had to ask you to dance. Your beauty is unrivaled.”

  Aww, I thought. It had been so long since someone actually complimented me at these things rather than wax poetics about their own wealth, that I found myself dumping the crab cake back onto the plate and wiping my hand off.

  “Is this you asking me to dance?” I teased, watching as a flush crawled up his neck.

  “It is.” He offered his hand and I took it, smiling softly at him.

  The music switched to something slow and sensual, but instead of moving closer, the man kept proper distance, careful to not invade me space, careful to only touch where I offered.