Kirby stalked closer. She rested the tip of her sword at Urd’s throat. “I’m real sick and tired of people testing me for my own good. Fuck your opinion of my worthiness.”
“Would you have fought the same if I weren’t a threat? Because you’ve met Skuld now, and they’re a far bigger danger than I am.”
Frustration and irritation spilled through Kirby, at Urd’s unflinching posture. “I assume I failed your stupid test?”
“Not at all. You’re compassionate, fierce, and you only fight if you have no other choice, or to protect those you love.”
Urd’s goal was trite, her assumptions and approach arrogant. Gwydion had a point—she was another deity who thought she knew better than those beneath her.
“Great. Do I get a participation trophy?” Kirby asked.
Urd frowned and bowed her head. “My apology is sincere. I should have approached this differently. Testing you was a mistake—yes, even those of us who have visions of what could be can be in error. Especially when it comes to things I haven’t seen.”
“Mhm.” Kirby crossed her arms.
“Hey, are we good here? Safe for about thirty seconds? I’m going to put my pants on.” Gwydion squeezed Kirby’s arm.
Damn him. She almost cracked a smile. The tension hanging in the air thinned, but didn’t vanish.
“Do you also wish to change?” Urd asked.
Kirby shook her head. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m good like I am.” Fully armored in magical gear that was as intimidating and intricate as it was effective at protecting her. “You can do something for me, though, as the woman who apparently set every one of my lives in motion—you could give us some fucking clarity.” Yeah, right.
Gwydion rejoined them, and Kirby gave him a glance. He had limited himself to just putting on pants, and the visual was no less tempting than before.
“That’s reasonable. I’ll tell you anything you ask,” Urd said.
No way. Too easy. “What if I ask you to tell me everything?”
“Then I will do so, and you should be prepared to be here for several days, possibly weeks.”
Given that Kirby would rather be kicking down someone’s door right now that wasn’t going to work. But which question should she ask first?
“The prophecy everyone’s talking about—the newly discovered one—did you see Kirby’s death. Again?” Gwydion’s question was tight.
Urd sighed. “It wasn’t my vision, but no. Skuld—Lance—is letting everyone believe they wrote The last Valkyrie will be no more. It’s a fairly direct translation, but it misses the meaning. The original text is more like The Valkyrie will no longer be the last.”
The words rolled around in Kirby’s head, and if she’d been a cartoon a little light bulb would have appeared above her head. “There will be others?”
“Yes.”
Kirby swallowed a spark of hope. A whisper of longing from her first life that she hadn’t known still existed. “Will my sisters return?”
“Not quite.” Urd winced. “You are so much more powerful than you realize, and your strength grows each day. With Odin gone, there’s no one to create more like you, but you have the ability to share your gift. To choose who else can do what you do. There are battles coming, and you cannot be there for all of them.”
“Oh.” Wait. Kirby could make more Valkyries? How was she supposed to choose? Where was she supposed to find them? Why was this her responsibility? Did that mean she wouldn’t fight anymore? She never had before. She and her sisters saw the fallen to the afterlife, rather than standing by their side in battle.
The flood of questions lodged in her throat, and she didn’t know what to ask next. “What if I want to be more than... What? A queen on a throne? A glorified clean-up manager?”
“Prophecies is such a misleading term. The things we saw were only one path. You are never bound to your future unless you choose to be,” Urd said.
Fury spilled into mingle with Kirby’s confusion. “Are you kidding me? People kill because of those words. Your friend just tried to kill me. Or was that another test? And you’re going to stand here and look me in the eye and say you’re not bound by the prophecies?”
Gwydion rested his hands on Kirby’s shoulders and pressed his lips into the top of her head. “I think we started too late in the story. Why do I not know you as Urd? Why doesn’t anyone know you and she are one and the same?”
Urd sat and tucked her legs to one side. “This won’t take days, but it could take a while. Join me?”
Kirby clasped her hands behind her back and set her feet shoulder-width apart. “I’ll stand, thanks.” She was talking to a being who could become a dragon in the blink of an eye—this stance wouldn’t make enough of a difference in her reaction time if Urd or anyone else attacked. But the armor wasn’t made for sitting in, and Kirby was already committed to keeping it on. It was like a security blanket, but sword and bullet resistant.
Gwydion stood by her side.
“Suit yourselves.” Urd looked unconcerned. “The three of us, Verdandi, Skuld, and myself, are old enough we don’t remember where we came from. To us, we always have been. Throughout the ages, different peoples have called us different things—sisters, fates, crone, mother, daughter—but they all blame us for their lives.”
“Go figure. What with you writing down all these prophecies and such.” Kirby let the sarcasm drip from her voice.
Urd frowned. “We didn’t know what we were doing. Argue if you want, but we were the same as any artist. We saw vivid visions of things we didn’t understand, and we wrote them down. We drew them. We made them into song. Anything to capture and understand the horror and beauty that danced in our thoughts. Your story was always one of my favorites, and Skuld told it in such amazing detail. It was the tale that always seemed to end in tragedy, but then you were back. Reborn, glorious, and with the most loyal lovers.”
Kirby had never thought of her history as romantic before, but Urd painted a simple and stunning picture of the past.
“As time passed, we met creatures like those from our stories—small, bipedal, and mostly hairless,” Urd said. “We took their form so we could walk among them. So we could pretend to live the lives we’d dreamed up. We shared the stories we’d told each other with all new audiences who listened in awe. Then the tales we thought we’d created from nothing started to come to pass.
“Coincidence became more. The people—humans and those they worshipped—thought of us as prophets. Gods. They modeled their lives after our stories. They looked for parallels.” Urd stared at the ground, but Kirby doubted she saw the grass. “They granted kingship and godhood and death based on the tales we’d told.”
Kirby couldn’t ignore the sadness and regret in Urd’s story. “But there’s an entire organization that holds your name. What changed? Why are you pursuing making these things happen?”
Urd met her gaze, thousands of years of grief etched on her face. “There’s a legend that people cling to. A story that’s been propagated for centuries. Of a sword in a stone. A lady in a lake. A fated king and the wife and friend who betrayed him. At least, that’s the way things are told now. We thought we’d show the people the prophecies were nothing more than tales. We would play those roles. We’d do things differently.
“And we did, but it tore the three of us apart. We couldn’t agree. Verdandi wanted to walk away and let be what would be. I wanted to remove our stories from their lives. Twist and warp the tales until they were unrecognizable. And Skuld—who decided they were happier as Lance—wanted to let people keep the stories and influence which ones came true. The good ones of course.
“The Followers of Urd bear my name to taunt me. And Lance wants you dead, because they assume you’re a pivotal point in what comes next. If there’s no Valkyrie, no court of life and death surrounding her, the war—the final destruction of the world—won’t happen.”
No. Kirby and those she loved were not going to be responsible for Ragna
rök.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kirby
“I won’t... I can’t...” How was Kirby supposed to deny some ancient dragon’s vision and interpretation of it?
Urd rose, crossed the short distance between them, and looked Kirby in the eye. “You were always my favorite in Skuld’s stories because you were so strong and loved so much. Your heart and soul are immense.
“You’re supported by life and death. A balance between the two like only a Valkyrie could be. Worshiped and worshiping a god with a passion that consumes you and him. An equal and opposite to one who adores you and who you adore and who was never meant to be you.” Urd looked at Gwydion. “Lover to the one who would live for you, and the one who would die for you. Because they’re two sides of the same coin, they’ll never see eye-to-eye, but they’re as much a part of each other as they are you.”
Urd rested her palm on Kirby’s cheek. “You don’t have to do any of this. You will choose your path. Not all of our prophecies come true, regardless of outside interference. But don’t deny who you are, what you have, what you can be, to spite a series of stories three lovers told each other before humanity even learned to speak.”
“If you’re such a fan of Kirby’s—of ours—you’ll help us fight.”
Thankfully Gwydion had a response, because Kirby had no idea which part of this entire story to focus on or pick apart or cling to.
“No.” Urd moved away again, head bowed and sadness in her reply. “You know how potent love can be. I loathe what Skuld has done with our tales, but I can’t destroy them. I’m sorry.”
Kirby let out a barking laugh. “I hope that decision haunts you for eternity.” She turned away and headed for her clothes. “I’m calling Magnus. You ready to take off, Gwydion?”
“Kirby,” Urd said.
Nope. This conversation was over. There were too many thoughts. Doubts. Pieces that added up to betrayal. Not quite Urd’s fault, but if she refused to take this stand, she was complicit.
Gwydion squeezed her hand. “Let’s go.”
Kirby placed him between her and Urd, let the armor fall away, and pulled on her clothes quickly, never taking her eyes off the goddess for more than a second or two.
Magnus sounded relieved to hear from Kirby—interesting thing to pretend—and joined them in the clearing almost immediately. She took their hands, and the world blinked away to be replaced with the sidewalk a block or so from NEON.
“Thank you.” Kirby meant it. Whatever everyone was hiding, lying about, trying to use her for, this had been straightforward. “I’ll call you again when we’re ready to discuss strategy. I promise.” She turned away.
“Kirby. Can I talk to you, just you, for a minute?” Magnus’s tone was almost pleading.
Kirby just wanted to get back home and process. She’d fought for FU, thinking they were on the side of right, and they weren’t any better than TOM. It was confirmed. Who was she supposed to trust? “It’s been a long few hours, and I’m not in the mood for more bullshit.”
“Please?” That was definitely begging sprinkled with desperation.
True, Magnus knew how to lie with the best of them, but Kirby’s gut insisted this was okay. She sighed, and looked at Gwydion. “Take your time walking back, and I’ll catch up? That way Starkad doesn’t run out here.”
“All right.” He dipped her head near her ear, brushed her earlobe, and whispered, “She’s wielding fae magic.”
Kirby started at him in wide-eyed shock, and his faint nod confirmed he was serious.
Gwydion turned and walked away, slowing his pace significantly when he was a few meters away, out of hearing range.
“What?” Kirby turned back to Magnus. “What’s with the sweetness and demureness and the fake need.”
Hurt whispered across Magnus’s face but vanished quickly. “That’s fair. No one’s telling you the truth. I don’t like it either. I never have. But what I’m about to say next is genuine. It’s the most sincere thing you’re going to hear today.”
“Uh-huh.” Kirby had to put up the front, because she wanted to believe the words and that would be a mistake.
“I know life with Hel sucked. Believe me, I know. I never wanted to compete against any of you. You’re the only brothers and sisters I had. I’m your family. You forgave Brit, and its different with you two, I get it, but...” Magnus let out a shaky sigh. “Don’t do what Dahlia did. Don’t leave me because a bunch of creepy old guys said you were special.”
Except that unlike everyone else, the men she loved were as out of the loop as Kirby was. “Creepy old guys like Vidar?”
“Like immortals you’ve known for fewer cumulative years than you’ve known me. You and Brit—and Dahlia too—you belong with us. With me.” Magnus sounded so sincere it ached in Kirby’s bones.
This conversation needed to go faster, so Kirby could catch up with Gwydion, but there were still so many questions. “Why does Vidar want me?”
“He doesn’t think the prophecy means you’ll die. He thinks it means you can make more, and he wants you to turn some of us. Me.”
Wow. Someone else wanted to use Kirby. Huge surprise. Not. “And you believe he’d just do that for you.”
Magnus turned her gaze to her feet as she kicked a loose pebble on the sidewalk. “Yes.”
“Come on. You can lie better than that.”
“It doesn’t matter if he’ll do it or not, it’s your power. And I don’t care.” Magnus looked up again, eyes bright and unguarded. “I mean, it sounds like a really cool idea on the surface—a Valkyrie, holy shit. But it’s sucked for you, and I’m not great in a battle. I’m brilliant behind the scenes.”
Kirby wanted so badly for this to be true, and she couldn’t say why. Maybe it was because so many lies in the last few days threatened to crush her soul. “So come with me. Walk away from Vidar.”
“And trade the god I know, the friends I know, for those creepers that have stolen the three of you away? No.”
“That’s why I can’t leave. I love those creepers, and yeah I kind of thought that same thing when I met them, but that’s not who they are. They’re genuine. They’re safe.”
“Even Starkad? Who lied to you in school. Who broke your fucking ankle to keep you in line.” Magnus’s sweetness was gone. “Yeah, I know about him. Their history with you. At least enough to know it’s not a healthy obsession. Why do you think we tried to kill him? He’ll destroy you.”
No. That was one thing Urd said that Kirby couldn’t argue—he’d die for her, like she had for him. “You’re not even going to make up a story about what happened to him? Pretend your goal was something else?”
“Nope. We sent him to face Fenrir because we thought it would kill him. When they decided to talk instead, we shot him. Except that bullet—it seems you really do have the power to make people immortal.”
Magnus’s raw honesty was as refreshing as the information was disconcerting. “I’d never forgive you if he died,” Kirby said.
“I see that now. It wasn’t my call, but I agreed with Vidar’s logic. I’d rather we all just walk away, but I don’t think we can ignore a life like this. We know too much. I want us all back together, and I won’t give up my security blanket.”
Kirby didn’t know what to think. What to say. There was too much to process, and not enough information to do so. “I’ll call you when we’re ready for next steps. Promise.”
She turned her back on Magnus—at least there was enough trust there to do that—and strolled away quickly to catch up with Gwydion.
So many manipulations. So many agendas. So many lies.
One thing Kirby agreed with Magnus on—having a family Kirby trusted was the only way to get through this. It would be nice if that trust could extend a little further, but she didn’t see how that was possible.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Starkad
Centuries.
That was how long Starkad waited.
This last decade
or so was the hardest.
And now that he finally had the one person he’d been waiting for, he had to wait some more.
Min and Brit had gone to fetch some books from a nearby library, and Starkad was left in this strange place, surrounded by magic he shouldn’t be able to feel, to wait for Kirby and Gwydion to return from what should have only taken few minutes. Maybe an hour.
The time alone had given him time to bring the raging wolf inside to heel. He almost felt like himself again, which didn’t make him any less impatient for her return.
The scents in the air changed, and Starkad smiled. A moment later, Kirby walked through the front door with Gwydion. She smiled when she saw him, despite a frustration that lingered in her eyes and clung to her.
Starkad knew how to get rid of that. He moved closer, pressing her into Gwydion, and dragged his nose up the side of her neck. The sharp scents that greeted Starkad painted a vivid story of what took so long. “Blood and sex. You two had fun without me.”
“You’ve got some real bad timing.” Gwydion rested his hands on Kirby’s hips.
She leaned back into Gwydion, and rested her palm on Starkad’s chest. Rather than pushing him away, her touch was light. Almost tentative. Frustration splashed across her.
The pair of touches screamed to be grounded. Of being desperate for clarity. Starkad had seen this lost and drifting Kirby so many times when it was only them.
It was different now, though. The desire to give up was gone.
He nipped her neck enough to leave a sting but not break the skin. “What do you need?”
Her laugh had that same lost and floundering feeling. “I need my world to make sense. I need to know that at least here, everything is exactly what I expect.”
“We can give you that.” Starkad glided his hand up her stomach, over her sternum, to loosely wrap around her throat.
She managed a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You and Min have something in common. Who knew?”
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