As everyone stood, Fen paused and shot a pointed glare at Starkad. “But keep an eye on your puppy.”
It seemed their time together hadn’t brought them any closer. Gwydion might joke that he understood Fen’s sentiment, but for all the shit he gave Starkad, Gwydion wouldn’t want him gone. Starkad was more than the straight man to Gwydion’s jokes. He was part of Kirby’s world, and Gwydion’s friend.
The group stepped out another door, and into the night. There was sky above them, despite being underground. They were at the edge of a small clearing of grass, tress, and even a stream with a bridge over it.
Shops lined the cleaning. A diner. A florist. A clothing boutique. More. Behind them, the door they’d just come through, was an actual facing for NEON. Somehow, despite the contrasting nature of the club, it fit in here.
Gwydion breathed deep, drawing in as much of the outdoors as his lungs could hold. A spark of replenishment bloomed inside, but he couldn’t grow it.
“Feel free to wander. Check the place out.” Fen swept his arm wide. He led them down a stone path, past the businesses and into a row of apartments.
The entire place was the perfect blend of modern living and escaping to nature. The type of feeling so many towns tried to recreate, but wasn’t quite possible without a little magic.
Or a lot.
A little farther, and they were on a street lined with adorable homes, complete with the lawns, flowerbeds, and white picket fences.
“Idyllic.” Starkad didn’t make it sound like a good thing.
Fen rolled his eyes. “I know where you were living before. Don’t pretend that wasn’t the goal.” He led them up the walk of one house, and let them inside.
“Not locked?” Starkad asked with disdain. “Next you’ll tell me there aren’t any security cameras.”
“No one is finding this place,” Fen said. “Make yourselves at home. We’ll touch base after you’re rested.”
Inside, dark wood wainscoting ran along the bottom of the walls, and distinct, darker paint decorated the top halves. The furniture was clean and new, but the style was more than a century old, with rich velvets that matched the walls and plush carpet.
It was Victorian made new again.
“This entire place—NEON—is amazing.” Brit’s awe was adorable.
And a good reminder to Gwydion that even someone like her, someone who was raised on death, still saw the new and incredible in the world.
As everyone else settled into seats, Kirby grabbed Gwydion’s hand and tugged him away from the group with a chipper-but-terse, “We’ll get the coffee.”
They reached the kitchen and she planted her back to the wall, facing him and grasping his fingers.
“I’m so glad you’re safe.” He dipped his head to brush his lips over hers.
She pressed into the light kiss, breathing a spark of heat into the sweetness, and broke away with a tiny smile on her face. “Do you want to know something?”
“Always.”
“Even before I had my memories back, I knew instinctively Starkad would tear the world to shreds to keep me safe.” Sadness whispered through Kirby’s smile, but it vanished again in an instant. “Even when he refused to admit the pull between us.”
“You sure you don’t want him here instead of me?” Gwydion asked dryly.
She shook her head. “I grabbed the right person, I promise. The instant I met you, every time I meet you, you anchor me. I think that’s why I remember when you’re around. You’re my sanity in a world that stopped being sane a long time ago.”
The words warmed Gwydion in a way her touch couldn’t. “I could say the same about you.” She was the Alice to his Hatter—the core of stability in a word where everyone was mad including them.
She nodded. “Which is why I can tell you’re not okay.”
“I’m just tired.”
“All right. Except you’re limping. Among other things” Kirby dropped her hand to his side and nudged the bruise hidden under his shirt.
Gwydion couldn’t hide his wince from a pain that shouldn’t be there.
Warmth flowed from Kirby into the bruise, healing and sapping away the ache. She moved her hand to his leg next and treated him to a similar sensation.
“Thank you.” He was grateful, but also concerned that he couldn’t do that himself.
Her slight frown implied she felt the same. “What’s going on?”
“Something happened during this last fight. Or rather, it didn’t happen. I couldn’t reach all of my power.” It was a relief to admit it, and he wasn’t sure why. “It’s as though a switch has been flipped and I’m running on reserves rather than recharging. As though once I’m spent, there won’t be any more.”
“You didn’t mention this before.” Kirby’s tone was concerned rather than accusatory. “How long has it been happening?”
“It’s new. I was fine on campus. Even when the quakes started, I was me. Maybe when everyone got sent to the four corners of the world, my godliness made a similar trip.” It was meant to be a joke. Neither of them laughed.
“What do we need to do to figure it out?” Kirby asked.
The realization struck him—this was why he didn’t mind telling her. “What if we don’t? What if we let whatever this is run its course, and I sputter out?”
Kirby’s frown deepened.
Gwydion didn’t mean that the way it sounded. “I’m not saying I want to give up, this isn’t a fatalistic thing, but would it be so bad to be like Brit? Immortal, but not a god?” Another thought slid into his head. “There’s one drawback, though.”
“What’s that?”
“I can’t fight by your side like this.” After so many centuries of war, Gwydion would always choose to heal rather than wound, but, “Something big is coming. I don’t know if it’s more than Gluskab, but the fact that he and the dragons have made an alliance is terrifying enough.”
Kirby pressed into him, cheek to his chest and his shirt clenched in her fists. “I know. And I don’t know what to do about any of it. At least I can trust the four of you, though.”
Gwydion wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “I won’t lose you again. Never again.”
“Same.” Kirby pulled away enough to meet his gaze, not breaking the contact between them. “If the roles were reversed, would you let me go into battle like you are now?”
He wasn’t sitting this fight out. “Would you let me stop you? You haven’t once held back from a battle—physical or otherwise—because one of us asked you to.” Despite being stressful, it was also one of the many things Gwydion loved about her.
“I was made for war.”
Aya’s words echoed in his thoughts. “No. You were made to be the balance between life and death, and you are that balance.”
“Which is why I have to pursue this. Gluskab, Malsumis, they’ll destroy that balance.”
This was a circular argument. Gwydion wasn’t conceding, and Kirby wouldn’t either while he was in this kind of shape. “If I could recharge.” His thought was born of desperation, but it quickly formed into more.
“Is that possible?”
“I don’t know. But there are spots close to home”—his home, the place of his creation, where the land still breathed life into and energized him— “Similar to Stonehenge, but unmarred by swaths of people. If I could spend a little time there.”
Kirby nodded. “If it doesn’t work, you’re not going to into battle with us.”
It had to work. As tempting as the thought of surrendering his godhood was at first glance, Gwydion wasn’t ready to roll over and give up.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Min
The moment Gwydion and Kirby joined them, Starkad was at Kirby’s side, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her back to his chair, to sit in his lap.
“Possessive much?” Kirby settled despite her question.
“Everyone else has taken your time, it’s my turn.” The gr
owl in Starkad’s voice had been there since he returned with Fen.
It was as fascinating as it was wonderful to Min, for all of them to have been together so much. This had never been the case in any of Kirby’s other lives, especially with Starkad.
So Min didn’t know if this behavior was typical, but he’d never seen Starkad like this. Physically he seemed fine, despite the glaring issue with his arm. But he was more aggressive with Kirby. More primal, as if some of his humanity had slipped away. And a faint aura of death encircled him—not the kind that was waiting to sink into him, but rather it was as if the cloud waited for its next victim to approach.
“What’s the plan?” Brit watched Starkad and Kirby with a faint scowl. Brit was different too. She didn’t look as disgruntled as she had in the past, when it came to Starkad, and unlike him, the aura of death around her was fading.
“I need to make a trip home,” Gwydion said. “As soon as Frey returns I’ll have him take me. It should only be a few hours.”
Starkad rolled his eyes. “Do you really think this is the time for nostalgia?”
“Yes.” Kirby’s playfulness vanished in an it’s-not-open-for-discussion tone. She looked around the room, as if daring someone to challenge her. “Until then, we need to be on the same page. Share everything you’ve learned since we were split up. It doesn’t matter if you think it’s repetition.”
Min loathed the life Kirby lived while she was growing up, but this confidence, her ability to command a situation and a strategy, left him in awe. She’d never been more his huntress.
The five of them shared their experiences and knowledge gained from the past few days. One thing stood out as unexpected—the stories they’d heard from both sides held very few discrepancies, including nearly identical prophecies. “Perhaps there’s some truth to what TOM is telling us after all,” Min said.
Starkad stared back in disbelief. “Or there’s no truth to any of it, and they’ve coordinated their stories.” He focused on Kirby. “And you’re not going back to Vidar.”
“I gave him my word.” She twisted in his lap so she faced him. “He brought soldiers to save us, something he has a limited number of. Magnus was already clear. He could have left Brit and I out there and walked away.”
“Except there’s a reason he needs you, and you can’t possibly think he’s told you the full story there,” Starkad argued.
Brit scoffed. “Uh, duh? How is that any different than these gods?” She gestured broadly.
She didn’t understand, but Min found the question insulting regardless. “Frey and Aya, Fen, they’ve been friends to most of us for centuries. They’re trustworthy.”
“But they’re following Dahlia’s cues,” Brit said. “Either intentionally or otherwise. Everyone’s allegiances are in question. Even you’re different, Min. I know that, and I haven’t been around long. I’m not saying it’s bad, but if you can change, so can they.”
A reasonable point. And a disturbing one, since Min had always been what he was. His world was a lot less black and white now, and some of those shades of gray were less than appealing.
Gwydion lingered near the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Dahlia walked away from TOM, Magnus didn’t. Vidar immersed himself more in the organization, picking up the pieces of a broken cult and reassembling it to be his own. I agree with Starkad—assuming he’s told us the full story is foolish.”
“Dahlia says she walked away.” Starkad’s agitation was palpable. “Why are we taking her word for anything? Because she’s fooled people we like? Because she’s endearingly awkward? She’s got the same training as anyone else who came out of that place, and she’s a Noble.”
Kirby extracted herself from his lap and stood next to his chair. He reached for her hand.
“Sometimes when people say they’ve left TOM, they mean it.” Irritation crept into Brit’s voice. “You people are hundreds—some of you thousands—of years old. Why is the pretty young lady lied and fooled us your go to move?”
“Your leaving didn’t make you any less of a threat,” Starkad said.
Brit’s scowl deepened. “It would’ve if you hadn’t been so insistent I was all bad.”
Kirby stepped farther from either of them. Her posture was loose, which would be relaxed in most people. For her, it indicated she was on her guard.
“Do you blame me for not trusting you?” Starkad’s question was gravel.
“I gave Vidar my word.” Kirby’s edged tone sliced through the mounting tension. “I don’t trust him. I never said that, and he knows I don’t, but I promised we’d help. The lot of you have already promised we’ll rescue Aya, and I’m fine with that. But if Grytha is there, we’re not leaving her because Vidar’s an asshole.”
“Your promise doesn’t make any of Vidar’s story true.” Gwydion crossed the room to join them, but his posture was no less defensive. “Including anything he said about Grytha. For all we know she’s retired on some island in the Atlantic.”
Kirby clenched her jaw. She wasn’t naive or stupid. She also wasn’t great at hiding her emotion when it came to lying, but she knew how to spot the cues in others. She’d been trained in deception like any other Noble, as Starkad said. And to her, justice and balance meant everything. If she gave Vidar her word, if she was looking for a reason to trust Magnus, she saw something worth working with. Despite being unable to vocalize it. She may not even be completely conscious of whatever let her make the promise to Vidar in the first place.
“Kirby’s right,” Min said.
Starkad pinched the bridge of his nose. “We can’t trust them.”
“You don’t have to. We won’t give them any additional information, keeping in mind that so far most of what we know came from them.” As Min spoke, Kirby’s expression softened.
“And if that’s all culminating in leading us into a trap?” Starkad asked.
Gwydion stood straighter. Looked more determined. “We can trust Frey and Fen.”
“Eh...” Starkad led his uncertainty drag into a sigh.
“And if it is a trap, it puts us closer to the source anyway, doesn’t it.” Brit made it sound as though even being captured was preferable.
It may be, if the group had the resources to get out. They’d survived the first round of being split up and thrown into disarray. Granted, it had been mostly torture free. Even Starkad and his mangled arm came out of it all right.
“Unless the point is to draw us as far from the source as possible.” Starkad stood, raising himself to full height. He knew what an imposing presence he was. “We’re not doing this without more information.”
“I am.” Kirby stood toe-to-toe with him. Despite being half a head shorter, she matched the threat and strength he radiated as she stared him down. “Go with me, or stay here and whimper.”
Starkad’s low growl rumbled through the floor, and the small trinkets nearby rattled. “You’re not leaving my side again.”
“Then you’ll be joining us.” A soft black glow licked in coils around Kirby.
As the two stared each other down, the air in the room grew heavy, until breathing felt like inhaling molasses. When did this become a power struggle?
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kirby
The girl who was raised by TOM, the assassin taught to be tougher than anyone and to never back down, was terrified right now. Kirby’s heart slammed against her ribs and her current incarnation pleaded for her to step away. To not piss off Starkad.
But the Kirby at her core, the woman she’d lost so many lives ago when Odin cursed her, screamed for her to stand her ground. I’m his equal. I always have been. When did we forget?
The conflict made her fear that same kind of delicious she craved when she was feeling self-destructive, but this time, without the desire to implode on herself.
The aura Starkad radiated shouldn’t be there. He was a creature of magic, but not one who could wield it.
The tendrils of power e
ncasing her were new as well, and with them shielding her, she could anything.
“Hey.” Fen’s bark disrupted the tension and both walls of power shattered, but the staring match continued. “What the fuck are you doing? I told you to keep him under control.”
Kirby took a deep breath, and broke eye contact with Starkad as she turned to face Fen. Starkad would either see it as submission or an insult, though it was more of a we’ll finish this later. Her apology to Fen died on her lips when she saw the way he was watching them, with a mixture of concern and... fear?
That couldn’t be right.
Whatever she’d seen vanished.
“The entire block is rumbling,” Fen said. “This is a sanctuary and if you violate that, you won’t be welcome here.”
Kirby hated the sound of that. She was happy to have Fen and Frey back in her life, despite the short timespan. “I’m sorry. I’ll behave. Any idea when the others will be back? Gwydion needs to make a trip.”
Fen shrugged. “Hours is still the only answer I have.”
“Thank you. And sorry, again.” Kirby made sure to sound contrite. She scrubbed her face when she left, and kept her attention on the room, rather than Starkad. Easiest way to keep her center. She didn’t want to waste hours waiting for Frey, and then more hours waiting for Gwydion to come back, and then even more hours making more plans.
If they could overlap at least two of those, things would move fast. Time to suggest something no one would go for, and hope things didn’t escalate further with Starkad. “Magnus can take Gwydion.”
Starkad’s laugh ended with an abrupt, no.
Kirby kept her back to him, and her focus on Gwydion. “It’s your call.”
“I hate to say it, but I’m not useful if I don’t make this trip.” Gwydion’s resignation rang heavy. “I trust you. If you think this is the right call, I’ll do it.”
For as much as she’d argued, Kirby still had her doubts. She also needed to make a decision and move forward. Doing nothing wasn’t an option. She had her phone out and was walking away as she dialed Magnus, before Starkad could stop her. She half-expected him to grab the device away from her.
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