Valkyrie Crowned

by Allyson Lindt

  “That doesn’t look so good.” He nodded at Starkad’s arm. “I’ve got some bandages.”

  Starkad stripped off his shirt, and another shock of agony squeezed the breath from his lungs. He glared at the wound. Blackness spread out, snaking through his veins and drawing a roadmap under his skin. This looked a lot like a wound Kirby had described. “Bandages aren’t going to help.”

  “You know what this is.”

  “I know TOM has bullets that cause something very similar.”

  Fenrir growled. “You brought TOM down on me?”

  “I told you I’m not here because I want to be. Kirby was shot with one of these.” Starkad would rather work toward getting the fuck out of her, than argue.

  “Kirby?” As Fenrir talked, he dug through a duffel bag. “Did it... Is she...?” His concern sounded genuine. It probably was. He hadn’t encountered Kirby in this life, but they’d been friends in several of her previous ones.

  The incident had been less than a week ago, and Starkad still had that potent taste of almost losing her again in his mouth. “She survived.” Thank the gods. “I didn’t see the injury, but it’s my understanding it was meant to kill her. Cut her off from her powers.”

  Fenrir extracted a cell phone. “Can you shift?”

  No reason to remind him that Starkad wouldn’t be in control if he did. What happened would happen. Starkad didn’t have to reach deep for his wolf.

  The bones in his face should grow and stretch, while his limbs did the same. Instead, agony screamed from the bullet hole. Nothing else happened. “That’s a distinct no.”

  “If she survived, you should too. Nothing kills you. What saved her?”

  “Min.” Starkad was almost reluctant to admit it hadn’t been him. “God of life, and all that. I don’t think they meant to kill me. I’m far more of a burden to you alive but seriously injured.”

  Fenrir shook his head and jabbed at his phone. As he listened, his frown deepened. Impressive. Several more swipes at the screen were followed by a fierce scowl. “You’re not the only one who vanished in the quake. Kirby is gone too.”

  “Someone called to tell you that?” Starkad’s fear and rage cranked up, amplifying the pain in his arm.

  “Aya and Frey were looking for your friends. We know a young lady, Dahlia, who has information about Kirby.”

  Starkad knew Dahlia as well. TOM assassin. Deceptively kind. Far more dangerous than she appeared. “I don’t trust anything she has to say.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you think.” Fenrir tossed the phone on top of his bag. “I trust her, and that’s more than I can say for you. I can’t call them back, though. No signal.”

  That wasn’t right. “There was enough of a signal for them to leave messages.”

  “And now there’s not.”

  This was getting worse with each passing moment.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kirby

  Kirby shouldn’t be surprised to hear The Followers of Urd wanted her dead, but shock and fury mingled with the exhaustion that made her limbs feel like lead weights. She really shouldn’t have done what she did in the hotel.

  She didn’t regret it, though. Even one more life saved was worth some weariness.

  She wanted to ask Vidar a long list of questions. How did she and Brit get here? Where was here? Why the fuck did he care about Kirby?

  Only one question seemed critical. “I worked for FU for years. Why would they turn on me now?”

  “You worked for us for years,” Vidar said.

  “You betrayed me first.” A childish retort, but she was tired.

  Vidar’s smile chilled her. “We punished you. The same way we would have anyone who was found guilty of the things you were. Everything that came before and after was your choice.”

  Which was a whole giant pile of bullshit. They’d known she didn’t commit the crimes in question, regardless of the lies fed to those who passed judgement on her. Hel had spent years both raising Kirby above her classmates and making sure everyone else resented her for it. Isolating her.

  Kirby wouldn’t argue with Vidar, though. It wouldn’t produce any results, aside from her frustration.

  “Nothing?” Vidar looked amused. “Very well. I’m sure FU is as grateful for your accomplishments on their behalf as we are. But you should know by now a body is only as useful as the most recent prophecy. Did you really think your current employers were more altruistic that us?”

  Min and Starkad wouldn’t work for FU. Not if they knew. “I did assume, yes.”

  “You were a means to an end. For us. For them. Just because their goals are different doesn’t mean they accomplish them differently. They kill to ensure the prophecies happen, and that puts you on their list now.”

  “That’s not right,” Brit argued. “They save potentials. Keep TOM from executing them.”

  Vidar raised an eyebrow. “How many of those lives did you take? And now you’re defending them? They trade one life for another. Each potential saved is a god destroyed in their place.”

  It wasn’t even close to the same. One was direct execution because of something someone wrote thousands of years ago, and the other was allowing people to make their own choices and live their lives. “Right. Whatever,” Kirby said.

  “You don’t have to believe me.” Vidar shrugged. “You’ll learn the truth soon enough on your own.” He clapped. “Right. Would you like a tour of the place?”

  What? “Are you going to cuff us and prance us around the facility like trophies?” Kirby searched for a reason in his offer, and that was the best she could find. “What’s to stop us from leaving?”

  The soldiers with Vidar leveled their weapons at her and Brit.

  “You shot me when we arrived. You know that won’t kill us,” Brit said.

  The sneer that covered Vidar’s face was his most terrifying expression yet. “The bullets that struck Kirby on the old campus? All of these soldiers have them.”

  “I haven’t been on campus in years. And I was never shot there.” Sometimes it was handy to have been trained in the art of complete and total bullshit.

  “I have the survivors. I know you were there. Besides, your blood was spilled, and your magic radiated through the campus as I was taking them. The bullets won’t kill all immortals, but they’ll kill most, and they will ensure you see a fourteenth life.”

  At least he’d tipped his hand quickly. He must not be the master of deception Hel was.

  “You said you brought us here to keep Kirby alive.” Brit saw the same flaw in his words.

  Vidar nodded. “I did. FU will destroy you. Is no more implies your obliteration. If we shoot you and don’t reverse the damage, you’ll be reborn again. I wish to see you survive, but I won’t sacrifice my existence for yours.”

  “At least you’re honest about where you draw the line.” Sarcasm oozed from Brit’s words.

  “I’m not Hel. I’ll tell you directly what I want.”

  Kirby suspected that wasn’t true. He might not use the same deep-seated manipulation tactics as Hel. Then again, he might. Time would tell if they stuck around here. “So... What? You think you’ll tell us your story and we’ll all be buds and want to hang out with you?”

  Vidar’s chuckle was chilling. He had the evil-villain laugh down. “No. I don’t trust you any more than you do me. Let me rephrase my offer. Would you like to see your prison for however long is needed?”

  “We’d love that,” Kirby said flatly. Regardless of the fact that she didn’t intend to stay long, she wasn’t going to turn down a tour of the facility.

  Vidar waved his hand, and the cell door opened. He turned his back on Kirby and Brit—arrogant bastard—and walked out of the room.

  Two soldiers urged Kirby and Brit forward and fell into step behind them. The light brush of Brit’s fingers over the back of Kirby’s hand meant Brit would take point.

  They moved into the hallway, and Kirby’s gut twisted in on itself. This was too much li
ke the TOM campus. As they moved down the corridor, then up a winding ramp to the next floor, her discomfort grew. The layout in this building was nearly identical to the administration building, where a handful of holding cells sat in the basement.

  Why wasn’t she free of this place?

  They reached the main floor, and bile burned up her throat. She’d been here less than a week ago, in Loki’s office upstairs. “What’d you do? Recreate the entire TOM campus?” She failed to keep her voice light.

  “It’s not identical, but there are a lot of similarities,” Vidar said.

  Why wouldn’t this place just go away? Kirby wasn’t doing this again. She wasn’t getting involved with TOM for the greater good. Not even for her life.

  She bumped her toe against the side of Brit’s leg, enough to be felt but not enough for it to make either woman’s step falter.

  Brit moved aside.

  “We’ll be leaving now.” Kirby only had one real magical attack. She could inflict the pain of all of her deaths on a single person. She’d feel the agony too, but she’d been practicing ignoring that. She dragged up the pain and focused on Vidar.

  She fired as he spun.

  He held up a hand, and magic crackled around him.

  Kirby’s attack flooded her with an intensity she wasn’t used to, stealing her breath and forcing grief to her heart. She stumbled to her knees, the burn reverberating through her body.

  Chapter Twelve

  Min

  Min knew Frey owned a modern burlesque club, but had never made visiting a priority.

  From the street, the building looked like any other windowless brick shell. The entire block was an unassuming shade of beige. The door Aya unlocked, with the vibrant blue-to-purple logo that said NEON, was the only indicator of what lay on the other side of the walls.

  “It looks different at night, when it’s open,” she said as she let him in.

  Frey, Gwydion, and someone named Dahlia would be joining Min and Aya soon.

  Gwydion had been able to move himself and anyone with him from one place to another by opening a gateway into the faery realm, and then an exit someplace else. However, entrance into the other plane had been granted by Aeval, Queen of the Fae, and she’d since then revoked access, so she could focus on healing her people.

  The lobby held more of a hint of the business beyond, with dark wood and leather seats, wood-paneled walls, and an actual neon NEON sign near the host podium.

  Over the centuries, Min had watched the evolution of clubs meant to speak to and sate human sexuality. His own ceremonies had been epic events, brightly lit, with laughter and vibrancy radiating from everyone and everything.

  Frey’s fertility celebrations had probably been similar in the beginning, but a god evolved with the world around them, or they faded. The main room here was more darkness, even with the lights turned on. Black walls; black-stained bar, tables, and chairs; and a dark stage.

  The fact that the patrons were seated separately from the dancers spoke to how taboo pleasure had become in modern society. Even the lust and desire trapped within the walls were peppered with the foul taste of guilt.

  Then again, Min invested heavily in the internet and technology, to ensure people could indulge their kinks and fetishes from the safety of their own homes, never having to admit them if they didn’t wish to.

  “We’re to make ourselves at home.” Aya stepped behind the bar and grabbed a bottle from the top shelf. “Would you like anything?”

  Drinking in this place would feel too much like mourning. “No, thank you.”

  “Suit yourself.” Aya brought the bottle to a larger table at the edge of the room and picked a seat.

  Min joined her, and they made polite small talk.

  How are prayers?

  How’s faith treating you?

  Any big surge in followers lately?

  He wanted to dig into the details of what was happening. Why The Followers of Urd would want Kirby. What these prophecies were. Gwydion would want to know too, and Aya said she didn’t have all the answers, so the interrogation would wait.

  The others arrived a short while later. Min stood when he was introduced to Dahlia, and she stared at him with wide, eyeliner-rimmmed eyes. “I knew it was you. I don’t know why no one listened. But I knew.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Min studied the woman. Most people radiated life or death, depending on which they respected or feared more. She was startlingly neutral in that department. Curious.

  She furrowed her brow and stared back. “Tech investor. One of the most private billionaires in the world. Super-imposing in person. Wow. When our... their—TOM’s people—were killed? Failed missions? You were almost always in the same city. I told Hel, and she said you couldn’t be involved. Then again, she was selective about what she heard me say. Gods, what a bitch. I mean... Sorry. I ramble when I’m nervous.”

  She was quite practiced at it. Almost as if she knew how to use the rambling to her advantage.

  “You’re TOM,” Min said. That was the most important part of her statement. He was curious why she’d been tracking him, and whether she knew he was responsible for relocating potentials. If she had the same kind of training as Kirby and Brit, she wouldn’t tell him unless it suited her purposes.

  “Was. Don’t shoot.” She held up her hands with a laugh. “I’d like to say I got out, but no one left with the kind of flair Kirby did. I shouldn’t call a suicide attempt and being rescued by a double agent of an instructor flair, should I? Insensitive. Sorry. I just kind of walked away when Hel died. Or rather, I would have, if it weren’t for...” She dragged in a deep breath. “Doesn’t matter. You’re on their shit list too, so I’m in amazing company.”

  Min glanced at Gwydion, who shrugged. “She grows on you,” Gwydion said.

  “Indeed.” Min didn’t dislike Dahlia. A few months ago, he would have appreciated her enthusiasm. It made him uneasy that his first impression now was one of distrust. He’d spent weeks pretending to be a TOM soldier, and while he no longer shared the thoughts of the person he’d been impersonating, enough of the mindset lingered that trust no longer came naturally.

  “Why were you looking for us? The full story,” Min said. Dahlia wasn’t the only one who made Min suspicious, and that bothered him more. Aya and Frey were old friends of Min’s; he should trust them.

  Frey dropped into the seat next to Aya, grabbed the bottle of gin from her, and took a long swallow. He gestured around the table. “Have a seat.”

  Dahlia took the chair next to Frey. Gwydion and Min sat together, with some space between them and the others.

  “As I said before”—Aya took back the booze but didn’t drink—“Dahlia uncovered some prophecies about the last Valkyrie. About all of you. When she told Frey, we agreed it was important you knew.”

  Min heard Kirby’s skeptical uh-huh in his head.

  Gwydion leaned back in his seat. “Last time we went to Aya for help, she was very distinct in your no. And now, just like that, you care?” He and Starkad had asked her for help, learning how to destroy Hel.

  “Kirby is a faithful believer.” Aya’s smile was too pure. Too sweet.

  “Was.” Min didn’t buy their intentions for a second. Six months ago, would he have hesitated to believe them? Probably not. “You sought us out in the middle of a god-induced quake, because you were suddenly concerned about a single voice who used to worship you?” He would move heaven and earth for Kirby, but Freya had refused to help when fate said earth was in danger. Her about-face made no sense.

  “Do you know who’s responsible for the quakes?” Frey asked.

  Min nodded.

  Aya jerked visibly, and Frey grunted. Did she kick him under the table?

  Frey glared at her. “We’re going to tell them everything, anyway.”

  “All right.” Aya sighed heavily.

  Dahlia’s silence was more disconcerting than her babbling. She alternated between studying her nails and fiddling wit
h her hair. However, Min suspected she was listening and processing everything.

  “Aya helped imprison Malsumis,” Frey said. “The bond created between the gods who did so prevented her from speaking out against any of them, including Hel.”

  Aya took another drink. “I wanted to help. I wasn’t physically or magically able, and I’m sorry for that. With Hel gone, that bond is broken.”

  “Going by all of the not-so-natural disasters striking around the world, Gluskab is looking for everyone responsible, and he can’t have my sister,” Frey said.

  Gwydion looked between them. “And this has what to do with us...?”

  Min had the answer, though. “You’re offering information in exchange for protection.”

  “For an alliance,” Aya corrected him. “I will not cower.”

  “I will.” Dahlia raised her hand. “I found all of this. I’m giving it to Frey, in exchange for keeping me away from TOM, and he’s using it to protect his sister. In other words, please don’t kill me or tell anyone you heard this from me. I’m the terrified little mortal in this situation.”

  Gwydion nudged Min and met his gaze. Between Kirby’s last life and this one, they’d traveled with each other for a few decades and spent a great deal of time together off and on over the centuries. They could say a lot without exchanging a single word.

  And they were on the same page this time. Min gave him a faint nod.

  “It should go without saying, but in case it doesn’t, we only speak for ourselves. We’ll help,” Gwydion said.

  They would have, regardless. It was hard to ignore centuries of friendship for a single bad decision. However—“I make no apologies when I say finding Kirby is more of a priority than protecting you. You knew she and the others were gone. How?”

  Aya dipped her head. “You’re wrong when you say her faith is in the past. I feel her, as I do any believer. Or I did, until the quakes started.”

  “And I knew the instant you all set foot in my city,” Frey said. “I’ve known since she and Starkad moved in. I suspect the fact that I’m here—that most gods aren’t interested in fucking with me—is why the two of them settled here. I also felt Starkad vanish, along with Brit.”