The Valkyrie's Guardian

by Moriah Densley

  The gallery opened into a two-story hall featuring a massive hearth flanked by decorative weapons arranged on the wall. Tall leather books shelved the opposite wall from the floor to the rough-hewn ceiling beams. And what castle would be complete without a suit of armor? The matching pair in the two rear corners were massive. Bigger than Jack, even.

  Jack nudged her and pointed to the blackened spiked suit clutching a double-headed battle axe the size of a stop sign. “Odin the Shieldeater.”

  “Let’s see, ah, famous for cleaving shields in battle?”

  “No, I think he really ate his shield.”

  “That’s very ferocious.”

  “James,” came a flat debonair voice from the stairway.

  Cassie looked to see Jack’s evil twin: darker, more handsome, at least forty pounds lighter and a bit shorter. His gamely smirk didn’t impress her, but he carried himself as though it should. He paused a few paces away and folded his hands formally behind his back. He inflated his linen-clad chest and cocked his head at them, purposely looking down his nose. A shame, but already she didn’t like him.

  Jack closed his eyes then opened them slowly, like he hoped his evil twin wouldn’t be there when he looked again. “Hugh. This is Cassiopeia, and Kyros already explained about Henry. Cassie, my eldest brother, Hugh. The MacGunn.”

  “That’s lord to you, James.”

  Cassie held back a scoff. Is he for real, Jack?

  Unfortunately.

  Technically, Cassie held her French mother’s title of Comtesse de Villefranche, and Kyros held the Greek earldom of Naxos. Only a particular sort of nobility bandied their title about, the sort who lacked the quality which made nobility a way of life rather than a name to drop. Not to mention that ninety-nine percent of the modern population didn’t give a flying leap for the old social castes.

  So Cassie merely raised an eyebrow in tandem with Jack’s neutral expression. They both ignored his dig. Nothing could have disappointed “Lord Hugh of Kinmylies” more.

  “I presume this is the relation to Kyros Vassalos?”

  Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and tilted his head back. “Hugh, we took the redeye to Edinburgh and waited for every sheep in Inverness to cross the road. Please just show us to our rooms. And if you ever refer to my wife as an object again, you’ll speak your next words through a straw.”

  “James, behave yourself. And Hugh, quit bein’ an arse.” With that, Grandda turned and went back through the gallery.

  “Wife? James, you married?” Hugh gaped, waiting for the punchline. “You married a Vassalos?”

  “Noyon,” Cassie corrected. “The rooms, if you please, Hugh?”

  “The Noyons of Marseilles?”

  “Not since the revolution. Just plain Noyon, but now it’s MacGunn, and I’m pregnant and jet-lagged and would like nothing more than rest. Please.”

  Hugh stared, blinking. Cassie knew how to draw on her breeding when necessary, and by all accounts she had just run roughshod over Hugh with the twelve generations of aristocratic arrogance in her blood … which wasn’t the point.

  “Bloody hell,” Hugh scoffed.

  Jack picked up the luggage and pushed past his brother on his way to the staircase.

  Hugh dropped an f-bomb, which she didn’t appreciate with Henry in the room. “What happened to your leg?”

  “Used it to beat my dumb-ass brother to a bloody pulp. It was worth it.”

  Hugh sidled past and finally led the way up the stairs. Cassie died a little each time Jack climbed a step and ground the raw edges of his bones together. It frayed both their overtaxed nerves. Hugh opened a tall door at the far end of the east wing, and Cassie tried not to care he’d intentionally put his brother in the worst room possible, a one-light-bulb affair. He obviously regretted the choice now that he was reluctantly impressed with Cassie. He averted his eyes as she leveled an Are you serious? glare at him.

  The brothers exchanged a few terse words, necessary communication for planning the next day. Cassie settled Henry into the adjoining room. The boy wasn’t frightened by the dark fathomless ceiling or strange whistling noises the wind made at the window; the kid had spent half his life in a cupboard. He curled up on the bed and was asleep before she passed through the doorway. She found the water closet, which made an unholy racket when flushed. On her way back, she heard growling voices, a door slam, and the squishy crash of Jack collapsing on the bed.

  “That went well.” He lay spread-eagle with his eyes closed.

  “Seriously?”

  “Aye, lass. Downhill from here.” He patted the mattress, and a faint cloud of dust puffed in the air. “Why don’t you come over here and reward me for leaving my kin unscathed?”

  She crawled toward him, sending a silent signal to lie still while she repaired what she could of his bad knee without surgery. He would heal better if he kept weight off his leg and rested, but she expected the apocalypse first. “You did behave fairly well.”

  “Better than fair. You don’t know what’s normal here.”

  “Heaven forbid.”

  “You’re in for it, I warned ye.” He reached up and grabbed her pants by the belt loops, toppling her onto his chest. “Now why don’t ye remind me why a classy lady like you married a dirty scoundrel like me?”

  “Can’t imagine why.”

  “Must be something incredible I do in bed.”

  “Actually, I wanted your boat. Your Nautique is one sweet ride.”

  “So are you.”

  “I love it when you talk dirty.”

  In truth they were both too exhausted to mess around, but it felt divine to lie on his warm shoulder, his salacious teasing curling the ends of her mouth into a smile as she dozed off.

  • • •

  A curvy blonde built like an Amazon squealed and launched herself at Jack. She buried her face in his neck and sniffed, and Cassie felt a prickle of annoyance ride her spine. The girl looked like an overgrown fairy. She snaked her arms around Jack’s neck and rocked, laughing as though she’d been counting the seconds until such a reunion. She flattened all eight pounds of bosom against his chest. Couldn’t be a sister, Cassie guessed the infamous Ainsley. Jack speared Cassie with a panicked look that screamed, Help me!

  No way would she insert herself into the drama. Interloping females got off on a jealous rival, and only Jack’s discouragement would have any effect. His impending discouragement … she waited, and he still hadn’t peeled the girl off him.

  “Oh, Jack. It’s so good to see ye.”

  “Hello, Ainsley.”

  She leaned back and giggled, showing off a healthy country complexion and cleavage which could arguably be the eighth wonder of the world. “When pa told me the news I baked a shepherd’s pie. It’s still your favorite, right, Jack?”

  Jack dislodged himself and stepped back. Still, Ainsley gripped his arms, and Cassie could tell she liked the feel of his biceps under her hands. The valkyrie saw red, but Cassie reminded herself how Jack had told her hello this morning.

  So Jack, is everyone in your clan family, strictly speaking?

  Related somehow, cousins of cousins a few times removed, or connected by marriage.

  That’s kind of redneck, don’t you think? Inbreeding?

  So what? This place is old. Traditional. And they have a heritage to protect as well as a secret to keep. It’s not like she’s my sister.

  No indeed. Jack sounded defensive so she dropped it.

  He turned to reach for Cassie’s hand and pulled her against his side. Ainsley pretended to notice her for the first time. “Ainsley, meet Cassiopeia. My wife.”

  Cassie did feel sorry for Ainsley in the moment it took the girl to recover from her shock. To her credit, she shut down the feminine wiles and kept her hands to herself. She swore a
riddle of f-word conjugations, then complained, “I never heard about it, Jack.”

  “Just this week.”

  Her eyes flashed to Jack’s left hand, where the thick gold band confirmed his news. “Well, congratulations to ye.” Ainsley took a step back and rested her weight on one hip. Her low-rise jeans only covered half her bounty, exposing the creamy slope of her waist.

  Cassie understood what Jack had tried to explain before about the females here. He’d given her the impression they were heavyset and dowdy and possibly bearded. If Ainsley was any indication, the MacGunn women were lovely yet sturdy. The sort of women who had a shot at birthing a berserker and living to tell the tale.

  Ainsley had similar thoughts — she looked over Cassie and hid her surprise. Apparently she didn’t know Jack could hear her, because she cocked an eyebrow at Cassie and wrote her off as dead meat. Not in a vicious way, but in the manner a scientist observes a flock of gazelles and marks the weak as certain prey to the next hungry lion that comes along. Ainsley consoled herself that she’d have another chance with Jack next year, when he found himself a lonely widower in need of a mother for his son.

  Jack choked just as Ainsley said, “Well, what brings you here? Staying long?”

  Jack stiffened, offended by her thoughts. “I’m on academy business for Kyros.”

  “I see. Do stop on by, Jack. Pa would love to see you too, we’re at the abbey now. Cassie, a pleasure.” She spoke through a wry smile, “Take care of Jack. He’s one of a kind.” She turned and walked into the hall like she owned the place. Even Cassie couldn’t help but watch her walk, the stride of a woman comfortable in her own skin, confident in her power.

  Cassie was stricken with fear. Not jealousy, but a vision of the future she hadn’t considered. In her plan, which contained possible martyrdom, she imagined Jack as a doting father, clinging to their son as his only joy. She supposed Jack would turn to womanizing in his grief and torture himself with the memory of how much better it had been between him and Cassie. Why didn’t she consider the long line of rosy-cheeked, cheerful women from his clan with good birthing hips, who would be more than happy to heal his heart? That terrified her, imagining Jack moving on and forgetting her. Her son would call another woman mother.

  Jack laced his fingers between hers and led her through the courtyard, showing her the way to the east tower that housed the academy. Cassie hoped it was the one east-facing building which looked like it had seen some maintenance over the past century. She couldn’t imagine Kyros would trust his precious students to anything less than state-of-the-art security, but then for the past four years they’d assumed the threat from Merodach had died with him.

  Jack was waylaid again, this time by an imposing man on horseback. Had to be the other MacGunn brother. He looked like Hugh’s evil twin.

  “Well look who shows up after how many years?”

  “Ben.” Jack kept walking, and Cassie followed. An arctic chill wafted from Jack. She understood that while Hugh annoyed Jack, there was bad blood between him and Ben.

  Ben dismounted and blocked their way. “Was that Ainsley with ye just now?”

  “Aye.” Jack walked around him, pulling Cassie along. Ben regarded her with narrowed eyes, and in a flash she got it. Ben loved Ainsley, and Ainsley loved Jack. Messy.

  Ben jogged to catch up. “Do you walk like that because ye finally went queer, or did the SEALs make a meatball out of ye?”

  The utter meanness in his voice brought her up short. Jack shot back one of the f-word variations popular here. It sounded ugly coming from his mouth. He kept walking, looking straight ahead. The stranded horse trotted behind Jack, nudging his shoulder and blowing on his neck in attempt to earn his attention. Jack reached back, rubbed its neck and brushed the gelding’s mind with praise like nonsensical cooing to a baby.

  Ben snatched the bridle and pulled the horse away. “What’s wrong, Jack? Your pretty Greek lover boy couldn’t put ye back together again?”

  Jack didn’t take the bait, and Cassie studied Ben while he scrutinized her. She saw what Jack would be if he looked his mortal age, if he was careworn and embittered. So far none of the MacGunns she’d met were extra-sentient. Most of the men had the berserker genes, but their physical prowess wasn’t much greater than her own, which meant they were superhuman but nothing like Jack. Another reason Ben hated him.

  Ben gave Cassie a blatant once-over and curled his lip. “She’s not quite your type, is she, Jack?”

  “Watch it, Ben.”

  “Oh, that’s right, I heard. You married the Greek’s daughter. Why work for his quid when you can tap the source?”

  It happened so fast. Jack exploded into motion — his fists flew, and Ben lay sprawled on the ground. He sneered and spat blood, narrowly missing Jack’s boots. “Hey, everybody! Jack’s home. Hide the children, run for your lives.”

  Jack leaned down to grab his brother by the collar. “Last warning, Ben. My wife is off limits. Na dèan sin, bràthair.” His eyes flashed iridescent green in his fury, and Ben’s lit with the same color.

  “Seadh. Go hifreann leat.”

  “Póg mahon, cù.”

  Brothers spitting curses in each other’s faces, their expressions twisted with hate — an ugly sight she never expected to see Jack take part in. Ben chambered his leg and took a cheap shot at Jack’s bad knee, and that started an all-out brawl.

  Cassie jumped back out of the way, aghast. She was accustomed to sparring. She, Jack, and Kyros all practiced taekwondo and Krav Maga for self-defense, but this tornado of flying limbs was attempted murder. They grappled on the ground, pummeling each other with brutal kicks and punches, and the disgusting crunch-snick noises meant they weren’t holding back. They moved so fast she could barely follow. She stepped closer to the horse, giving them a wide berth.

  For a few minutes Cassie stood back and gaped, astounded by the titan rumble caused by two berserkers in battle. She already knew Jack would fight to the death when possessed by a rage, regardless of his injuries. If he lost a limb he would pick it up and bludgeon his opponent with it. Ben appeared every bit as feral, with his flared nostrils and bared teeth as he elbowed Jack hard in the gut then grabbed his hair in an attempt to slam his face into his knee. Jack whirled around with a kidney jab then picked Ben up high over his head and threw him. Ben skidded, unearthing a trail of grass. Their identical green eyes sparked with fluorescent vitriol. She couldn’t imagine an entire army of berserkers. What a sight the MacGunn clan must have been in their medieval heyday.

  Faces peered out of windows around the complex. Jack and Ben fought in the courtyard, giving everyone a clear view. Cassie saw children’s faces watching too, and that made her heart sink with regret and anger. Ben’s knees were locked around Jack’s neck, Jack had his hands around Ben’s throat. Both dripped with blood and sweat, and the black waves of violence polluting their minds pushed Cassie over the edge. They were brothers, and this was plain wrong.

  Without much effort she summoned static in the air. It gathered in her hands as she wrestled to equalize the tension between ground and sky. The shift in atmospheric energy sucked down a dull pressure she could feel in her skull and chest. The charge crackling in her fingers burned ice hot. Cassie walked calmly to the men locked in struggle and set a hand on each of their shoulders, transferring a mild dose of blue electricity into their bodies. They jerked back and screamed. She exploited their surprise and shoved them apart, hurling them several feet.

  She heaved slow breaths to calm her anger, resisting the temptation to fry their idiotic brains. They rolled slowly and strained to sit up, mist steaming out of their collars. “Jack. Ben. That’s enough. Look around, you morons. Is this what you want your family to see?” They glanced around and saw the somber faces watching from inside the great house, all the small ones who had just been taught a bad lesson.

  �
�Bloody hell. What is she?” Ben muttered, wiping his split lip.

  “The voice of reason.” She stood between them. “You two have to work together while we’re here. This is your clan, and you are the leaders. Now start acting like it.” She waited while they sucked in deep breaths, trying to calm themselves from the rage. “Do you think your family should see you shake hands, or did you mean to start a war today?”

  Ben breathed an oath in Gaelic under his breath, and Jack made something pop in Ben’s hand as he squeezed. She closed her eyes in forbearance.

  She debated internally, then decided a gesture of goodwill was worth eating a slice of humble pie. She approached Ben and touched his shoulder again, this time to heal his broken collarbone. He started at her intrusion into his mind, and she had only mended the bone halfway before he stiffened and shrugged out of her grip.

  “Hey! Bugger off.” He cocked his head toward the audience peering from the windows. “What I do is for my clan, not because some fancy-arse bitch says so.”

  Jack growled and charged, but Cassie was ready for it. She caught him with both hands sprawled on his chest. He snarled and pushed, but she held him back, digging her heels into the ground. Jack, think. Do you really want to be seen as a troublemaker? Is it worth all the bad blood?

  Let me at him.

  He wasn’t reasonable yet.

  Cassie narrowed her eyes and shot Ben her executioner’s stare. “You accepted Kyros’ commission for stewardship over the academy. That includes hosting his agents. That would be us. Be civil or keep your mouth shut. Or next time I will take you down myself.”

  Ben sneered and turned his back.

  She gripped Jack’s hand and tugged him back toward the hall. Go clean up. You’d frighten the children if you took inventory at the academy now.

  He let her lead him back, his mind still a haze of churning red and black fury. Everyone they passed stopped to gape. Jack was disheveled and bloody, his muscles sweaty and engorged, straining the seams of his clothes. Pretty much a PR nightmare, as far as the academy was concerned. She understood from their thoughts they had seen the aftermath of a berserker rage dozens of times, but Jack’s extreme physique was shocking.