To Vex A Valkyrie (Southern Sanctuary - Book 9)
Page 1
To Vex A Valkyrie
Southern Sanctuary – Book Nine
Jane Cousins
Copyright©2016. All rights reserved by the author. Do not copy or re-distribute.
This is a work of fiction.
Front cover design; Fiona Jayde
For my clever gorgeous niece, Ella. Dream big. Dance fast. Leap high. Laugh often. The sun shines a little brighter because you are in the world.
Chapter One
Brodie Buchanan couldn’t hold back the sneer that curled her upper lip as she walked past the long line of young Valkyries, waiting to return their leased weapons and armour to the Corporate Store.
Leased?!
It horrified her that the Millennial Generation would rather waste their money on pastel coloured convertible Volkswagens, than invest in bespoke armour and custom elf-made swords.
Damn, those bitches made her feel old. Yet she was only twenty-nine. Although technically, she’d been fighting on the battle plains of Fjornfiall for just over two hundred and eighty years.
Time worked differently over there.
Take this last battle, involving four months of relentless campaigning to defeat the Belkfaust demons, and recover the golden skin of Heidrun. Here, back on Earth, only eight days had passed by. The time disparity could be dis-orientating at first, but eventually you got used to it.
Striding down the brightly lit corridors of Valkyrie Headquarters, heading for the management floor, Brodie absently released her magic. Instantly her gold-plated armour and knife-edged pleated skirt disappeared, along with her two broad swords, Raven and Reaper.
Okay, so naming her swords was a little childish, but it’s not like she was a pet person. She was a Valkyrie, first, second, and last.
Biting back a sigh, she glanced at her own reflection in the elevator doors just before they opened. She felt naked without her armour and she looked too… soft, too… feminine wearing nothing but her gold, knee-high boots and her shellan; a short toga like garment that all Valkyries wore under their armour. The cloth wasn’t just magical, changing shape to preserve modesty and remaining fresh and dirt free. More importantly, the shellan prevented chafing. Wearing gold plated armour wasn’t for sissies.
Exiting on the management floor, Brodie’s boots sank into plush cream carpet. The lighting here was muted. The walls painted in soft creams and golds. Tapestries depicting the bloodiest battles lined the walls. Now those were the days. Her ancestors fought until they were drenched in their enemies’ blood and they were the only ones left standing.
They didn’t crack a hissy fit every time they broke a nail. Stopped fighting to re-apply sunscreen every four hours. Or whined incessantly about the quality of the Wi-Fi connection on the battle plains.
Urgh, she hated the Millennial Generation Valkyries, they were a disgrace to the profession.
Brodie nodded an abrupt greeting at several women she passed. All of them looking alien to her eyes in their expensive business suits and ridiculous high heels. She couldn’t ever imagine retiring from the battlefields, and she certainly couldn’t imagine ever transitioning to the management side of the operation. Meetings? Contracts? Dispute Resolution? Bah, the very thought sickened her.
Finally, she reached her destination, two large double oak doors. The receptionist sitting in front of them was from her grandmother’s generation. Part guard dog, part organisational whizz, Helgastein Gerwitz’s dour expression never wavered as she eyed the fierce scowl Brodie sent her way, clearly unimpressed.
“You don’t have an appointment.”
“I don’t care.” Brodie shot back.
Helgastein issued a soft, derisive snort, which coming from her was a combination hearty welcome home and part - get out of my face, you’re annoying me – command.
Brodie stomped onwards, flinging open the double doors and stalking into the large inner office. Slumping down on to the visitor’s chair, she glared at the room’s only occupant. “They have to go.”
“Which one?”
“All of them. They’re useless, vain… never stop whining. They all think they deserve to lead a battalion, though most of them are barely out of training.”
“Did you manage to get the golden hide of Heidrun back?”
“Yes, the stupid Goat can pick it up anytime he wants. Just tell him to not be so bloody careless next time.” Brodie heaved an irritated sigh. “I’m telling you, Stephanie, the new recruits are a nightmare. They’re more concerned with checking their emails than discussing strategy. They sit around the camp fire of a night talking incessantly about nail colours and hair products. I have to keep sticking my fingers in my ears to ensure blood isn’t oozing out as a result of all the banal inanity.”
Stephanie, her friend, mentor, and boss, gave her a look that clearly expressed she thought Brodie was over-reacting.
“I swear by Freyja, I’m not exaggerating. Kiki almost got trampled by a hoard of Belkfaust draft-horses because she was taking a selfie with the first demon she beheaded.” Brodie couldn’t hold back the irritated growl that built in the back of her throat. “And how does she get Kiki from Samantha? They all have twee names like that, you know. Bobbi, Cleo, Tempe, Missy… they’re a bunch of self-obsessed, whiney bitches. And if they’re not complaining, they’re talking. They never stop yapping. About yoga positions, their diets, their clothes… and don’t even get me started on the men they go on about.”
“Okay… deep breath.” Stephanie leaned forward in her chair. “And another one.”
Her boss had her serious face on which was slightly at odds with her packaging. Given she looked the epitome of a blonde bimbo, with her bodacious bosom currently encased in a tightly fitted, white polo top. Stephanie’s pale blonde hair pulled back in a high pony-tail, all the better to display her wide baby-blue eyes, plump lips and high cheekbones.
The woman was stunning, and the funniest thing of all was that most mundane humans believed her looks to have been artificially acquired. More fool them. Stephanie was the real deal, and thanks to her Valkyrie genes still looked as if she were in her late-twenties.
Stephanie continued to look serious. “I’m glad you stopped by. It saved me the trouble of calling you in. I understand your concerns. Others have raised them also. The Accounting Department is having conniptions over the sharp increase in our Wi-Fi bills. But… I’ve also had a lot of complaints about you.”
“Me?!” Brodie was genuinely shocked. Complaints about what? She always led from the front. Never stopped hacking until the last enemy was on the ground bleeding out. She never drank more than her share of ale. Didn’t ask others to perform duties that she wasn’t willing to do herself.
“Yes, you.” Stephanie flicked open the thick file she had on the desk in front of her. “Too bloodthirsty. Too rash. Too rough. Too angry. Snapping at others-”
“Really?” Brodie frowned, trying to work out if her boss was playing some sort of practical joke on her. “We’re Valkyries, all of that is in the job description.”
“True... to an extent. But let’s be honest here, you haven’t been the same since Lena’s-”
“I don’t wish to talk about Lena.” Unconsciously, Brodie’s hand moved up to touch her heart and then her forehead… Freyja’s speed to Lena, may her soul rest easy.
“I think you’re still upset.”
“I’ve had four months to get over it.” Brodie scowled, wishing Stephanie would just drop the subject.
“But on this plain it hasn’t been quite two weeks since Lena-”
“I’m not upset. I’m fine. It happens. Sure, I miss having her beside me in battle, watching my back but… well
, I won’t say she’s in a better place. We both know I’d be lying, but I’ve come to grips with it…and I can only wish her…” Brodie winced as if in pain. “…peace and prosperity.” Again she touched her heart and then her forehead solemnly.
“Okay, enough! Stop acting like Lena is dead. She got married. It’s allowed. She’ll be back to work after the honeymoon.”
Brodie fought the urge to snap the arms off her chair. Stephanie was wrong. “She might as well be dead. Lena will come back, but she’ll be different… happy, smiling... She’ll talk about Soldan all the time but she won’t say his name… No, she’ll keep referring to him as my husband. And it won’t be the same. There’ll be no more drinking or partying after a battle, she’ll be straight off back to the volcano to fix Soldan dinner.”
Stephanie issued an unladylike snort. “I doubt that. For one thing, Lena can’t cook. I think you’re over-reacting. You’ve had four months on the battlefield to sort through your feelings and you’re more high strung now than you were before you left.” Stephanie’s eyes flicked down once more to the open file in front of her. “Too impatient. Too savage… in both actions and remarks.”
“Remarks?” Brodie was at a loss on that one.
“I believe the new recruits came up with several fresh ideas to improve the campaign that you shot down.” Stephanie fought not to wince as her eyes travelled down over the suggestions.
Trained masseuses assigned to every squad?
More vegan meal options?
Pedicure kits included in the first aide kits? Heaven help them all.
Oh no, low calorie white wine to replace the ale? Freyja, replace a ten thousand year old tradition because they were afraid of a few calories? Stephanie fought hard not to show Brodie that she empathised. “I’m given to understand you were quite scathing in your put downs.”
Now it was Brodie’s turn to snort. “Please. I seem to remember a senior squad member practically biting my head off when I floated the idea of GPS trackers being attached to our armour.”
The edges of Stephanie’s lips lifted. “You were barely sixteen then, and such a know it all. In my defence, I didn’t even know what GPS stood for when you came to me with that idea.”
“And just think, if we’d adopted my idea then it wouldn’t have taken us six weeks to find you when you were kidnapped by the Arganfaust Demon Prince.”
Stephanie glanced down briefly at the huge diamond ring on her left hand, smiling. “Then I might not be married to him.” Stephanie straightened her shoulders. “But that’s all in the past. I didn’t want to do this Brodie, but I believe it’s for your own good. I’m pulling rank and insisting you take leave.”
“Take leave?” Brodie shook her head in confusion at the foreign words.
“A holiday.” Stephanie elaborated.
“Holiday?” Brodie reeled back in horror. “What the fuck would I do on holiday?”
“What most people do. Chill. Relax. Catch up with friends. Indulge in your favourite hobbies.”
It was Brodie’s worse nightmare come true. Relax? Chill? All her friends were fellow Valkyries. All her favourite hobbies involved using her swords, her boots, or sometimes her head (to bust other heads). “No, no way! I am not going on holiday.”
“You don’t get a choice in the matter. I’ve notified HR.” Stephanie didn’t think it wise to mention that those stroppy cows had howled with laughter and immediately opened a betting book on how long Brodie would last. “And, I’ve also rescinded your access to the battle plains.”
Damn, Brodie’s scowl was thunderous. She’d been hoping to blow off this whole talk of her going on holiday and slip off to join another ongoing campaign.
“Stephanie.” Brodie fought not to plead, but the idea of what her boss was proposing was too hideous to be born. Stuff pride. “Please, don’t do this.”
“Look, I just think you need to take some personal time to regain some perspective. You saw how happy Lena was at the wedding. And it’s not like Soldan doesn’t understand she has a job. He’s a Vulcan demi-god after all. She’ll be back.”
Brodie shuddered, the loved up ceremony held in an active volcano in Hawaii two Earth weeks ago still haunted her. The low cut bridesmaid dress Lena had insisted she wear. The dopey smiles on the faces of the Bride and Groom. All Soldan’s annoying relatives getting drunk around the lava fountain and toasting the newly weds. Sickening.
Stephanie closed the file in front of her. “Getting married should not equate to dying in your head. I know you’re not fond of change, but you need to get over this. I’m serious, Brodie, no more fighting until you regain some perspective.”
“What the hell am I going to do on holiday?” She thought of the dismal, dark, tiny one-bedroom apartment that she maintained here on the Earth plain, mainly as a place to store her weapons collection.
“Learn a new skill. What about archery? That might be useful.”
Brodie looked incredulous. “Death from a distance? Where is the fun in that?”
Stephanie fought hard not to laugh. “Well, I’m late for the twins’ soccer match.” She referred to her delightfully frank and exceedingly competitive thirteen year old twin tomboy daughters. Scooting back her desk chair, Stephanie leapt to her feet in one graceful motion.
Brodie almost went cross eyed, distracted from her own woes for a moment. Not sure where to look next as Stephanie’s long ponytail flicked sideways and her impressive breasts jiggled. Her too-short tennis skirt flipped upwards for a moment, revealing toned tanned thighs, and the pom-poms on her ankle socks bobbled merrily.
“Seriously?” Brodie eyed her friend and mentor’s outfit from head to toe. “I didn’t even know you played tennis.”
For a moment Stephanie’s mask slipped and the grinning predator that lay beneath the surface peeked out. “I don’t. You think this is bad? You should see the bouncing going on when one of the twins kicks a goal. I’ve never seen so many Dads ditch work early to attend a soccer game before.”
“The other mothers must really hate you.”
“Oh, yeah.” Again Stephanie let slip that sly, smug smile. “But you’ll be able to see for yourself how much at the birthday party.” She reminded Brodie of the upcoming party to celebrate the twins fourteenth birthday. Eyeing her friend for half a second, Stephanie’s smug smile, if possible, broadened even more. “Of course, they’re going to hate you too.”
“Me? I doubt it, I won’t be jiggling my cleavage in their husband’s faces. They won’t even know I exist.”
Stephanie rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Brodie, it’s time you pulled your head out of your toned ass and got a clue. So you’re not - bimbo blonde on a stick - trophy wife material like my good self, big deal. You have to know how gorgeous you are.”
Brodie shook her head, how had they gotten off on such a stupid tangent?
Stephanie barrelled on. “Come on, Brodie. You have that whole Russian supermodel look going for you.”
“Russian?”
“Totally. You’ve got that - get the fuck out of my way before I crush your puny head between my magnificently toned thighs - thing going on. Not to mention the most stunning eyes, ever.” Stephanie studied her friend. She really was gorgeous and didn’t have a fricking clue.
The black hair that she braided back into an intricate plait set off her flawless pale complexion. Wide lips, small, straight nose, haughty high cheekbones and those eyes… framed by finely arched dark eyebrows and long thick eyelashes, they really were arresting. Light, almost clear blue spikes radiated out from her pupils, fracturing the dark blue outer edges of her eyes.
Plus, Brodie had the requisite Valkyrie physique to back her up. At six foot tall, she was all toned muscle, with long, long legs and an impressive rack. Not quite as impressive as Stephanie’s remarkably perky double d’s, but pretty darn good nevertheless.
Brodie should have men flocking around her… hmm. Light bulb moment.
“When’s the last time you got laid?”
“Okay, that translates to way too long. I’m talking as your boss here. You are going on holiday, and you are not to come back until you’ve been well and truly fucked.”
“What?”
“I’m serious, Brodie. You have a lot of tension going on, and the best way to work that off without killing a bunch of people is to find some guy and bang him.”
“I… No! You’re insane.”
“Brodie, go away.”
“Where the hell am I supposed to go?”
Stephanie turned from where she was smoothing back her pony-tail, checking her appearance in a small, hand held mirror. Damn, she loved tormenting the soccer Mums, listening to them bitch behind her back before they all too often sidled up to her in order to slyly request the name of her plastic surgeon. She always just giggled and played dumb… oh, Brodie was still here. What had she asked? Hmmm, holiday recommendations?
Oh, what about that flyer that had arrived on her desk this morning. She didn’t normally get junk mail but something about this one had caught and held her attention. Grabbing the glossy pamphlet, Stephanie thrust it at Brodie.
“Australia?” Brodie frowned down at the thing.
“Why not? It’s summer time Down Under, lots of hunky surfer guys for you to play with. Go, kick back, have fun.”
Brodie stood up, doing her best not to scrunch the pamphlet into a miniscule ball. Kick back? Have fun? “I’m doing this under extreme protest.”
“Duly noted.” Stephanie smoothed down her tight white polo top before hiking up her already impressively high breasts. “And I don’t want to see you here at Corporate again until you’re rested and rejuvenated.”
“It’s like you don’t even know me.” Brodie couldn’t help but point out.
“You’re right, what am I saying? Okay, you don’t get to return to work until you’ve been well and truly laid. And I’ll know just by looking at you. So no investing in anything with a battery to try and fake it.”