Besides her? “We both like to see you tied up?”
“Close enough.” She clenched her hand, grabbing a fistful of his T-shirt in the process.
“One distraction, coming up.” He let the growl slide into his voice. He pressed into Kirby, memorizing everything about this moment. Scent. Heat. The sound of her soft breaths. The way Gwydion’s presence mingled with it all, overlapping and enhancing like just enough sugar.
“Why can’t this be life?” Kirby’s question was soft.
Gods forbid. Starkad loved this, but he’d wither from boredom. “You’d get bored so quickly. You went stir crazy in Aeval’s cabin.”
Gwydion might be happy to heal the conflict from the back row, and Starkad didn’t fault him, but Kirby’d never be able to step back.
“Maybe.” She sighed and shifted her weight to rub her body against his.
“As brilliant as this is”—Gwydion was hesitant—“while it’s just the three of us, we need to talk.”
They did. The thought had been gnawing at Starkad’s thoughts for weeks, and amplified when he’d run into Fenrir. It was easy to ignore it when he let the wolf drive his thoughts, but this needed to happen now, before—
Kirby was gone again. The words haunted Starkad. He wouldn’t let it happen. His desire was muted with the onslaught of thoughts.
“Fenrir nearly left me in the woods to fend for myself, when we encountered TOM.” Starkad hated to kill the moment, but they’d have more of those. This needed to be said. Kirby went rigid under his touch. “And I wouldn’t have blamed him. I had a patch of a few centuries, that span of time when it didn’t feel like I’d ever find you again, where the only thing that mattered was the fight.
“I’m not talking about those wars I joined to see how real the immortality was. This was more focused. I fought for anyone who would have me. Whatever it took to spill blood again and lose myself in the fight, it didn’t matter the cause.”
Gwydion’s sigh was quiet. He’d seen this coming.
The way Kirby met his gaze, her expression impossible to read, she hadn’t. “That’s why no one trusts you. I thought Vidar was just being a TOM asshole, but these people toss your name around like...”
“I’m a wild dog?” For the longest time, that was his intention. “That thirst is still here. That lust. When the fight starts, I lose the desire to contain it.”
Kirby’s expression softened. “When the fight starts, that’s when you shouldn’t contain it. There are days I don’t know if I can face the world as it is.” She drew in a long breath, shuddering as she exhaled. “Days I still want life to end. I don’t give in, because those are only temporary moments. Is it the same for you? Or would you rather nothing—no one—was keeping you... tame?”
She meant herself.
“Would I surrender you so I could lose myself? No. Never. I shouldn’t need you to keep my humanity, but I can’t deny I do things because of you. I wouldn’t be me without you, and not just for the obvious reasons.”
Gwydion was surprisingly quiet. Both a blessing and a concern.
“I get it,” Kirby said. “I do. All of it. You’re not him anymore, but that voice still exists.”
How had he ever doubted? “I can’t promise I can keep the urge at bay, especially if you die again.”
“I’d be lost without you as well. So don’t let me die.”
He nipped at her shoulder. “Never again.”
“Are we all good now?” Gwydion finally spoke. At least he didn’t open with a joke.
“Yes.” Kirby was stunning in her confidence, radiating a power that whispered don’t underestimate me.
“Because we should talk about what Urd told us,” Gwydion said.
They’d seen Urd? Talked to her? And they’d let Starkad waste time baring his soul?
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Kirby
Everything Urd said rushed back, tossing Kirby into doubt and frustration.
“I’d rather wait until Min and Brit were here to tell most of the story.” Kirby’s mind was already into an irritating number of reruns.
But what she’d learned about Starkad and Gwydion—there was no doubt they were they were the coin—Starkad needed to know. Between the three of them, maybe the words would mean more than being a prettily phrased tale of love and loss.
Starkad looked between her and Gwydion. “Well? What’s she like? Is she sorry at all for the shit she puts the world through?”
“Yes. And no. She said you and Gwydion are two sides of the same coin. Connected through more than just me.”
“Lovely. Poetic.” Starkad’s voice was flat. “But what does it mean?”
“I don’t—” A loud, steady hammering on the door cut Kirby off. She ran toward the sound, her Valkyrie hovered near the surface, ready to emerge in a blink if needed.
Starkad and Gwydion were by her side as she jerked open the front door.
Frey stood on the porch, Dahlia unconscious in his arms. A dark wet spot covered her black T-shirt, focused around a hole in her stomach, and red stained his hands.
Kirby’s gut sank.
“Thank Eternity you’re here.” Frey’s eyes were wild. “Tell me you still heal people.”
The panic and hope were enough to snap Kirby into action. “There.” She pointed to the couch. Whoever owned the place could throw a fit later about stained upholstery.
Frey laid Dahlia down so very gently, and Kirby had to nudge him aside to kneel next to her.
Kirby hovered her hand over the wound, mentally searching for the best place to start healing. A spark tugged at her memory and dragged up concern with it. She hadn’t been able to heal Brit. What if this was the same?
“She’s still human, right?” Kirby asked Frey.
Frey furrowed his brow. “Yes. Most people don’t just magically become otherwise.”
Unless Kirby was around. She shoved aside the hesitation and let the magic flow through her. The energy was sharper, fresher than it ever had been before. Was that because of the trip with Gwydion? Did that impact her, too?
She closed her eyes and concentrated on knitting the wound. Healing the tissue. The skin. Pulling life back.
It wasn’t working. What was Kirby doing wrong?
“Is everyone— Oh.” Min’s voice tickled the edges of Kirby’s thoughts, but she was focused on Dahlia.
An arm rested against hers, and the presence told her Min was next to her. He covered her hands with his.
Kirby didn’t dare open her eyes, and confirm what she already knew. “She’s not getting better.” Her voice caught. “I can’t— I don’t know why not.”
“She’s gone,” Min said softly.
Dahlia wasn’t. Kirby still felt something. Desperation clogged her throat. “There’s a spark. She can get better.”
“There is, but it’s so faint.” Min had the decency to sound regretful. “Even if I help her cling to it, she won’t last with that wound.”
There had to be a way. What Magnus did after Kirby healed her... Maybe? “If you can help her and I can’t, what I give you that power? What if I can share?” Even as Kirby spoke, she summoned her healing and let the magic bleed into the connection with Min.
“I will try.” Min went quiet. In fact, the whole room seemed frozen in anticipation.
Kirby didn’t dare look. She focused on the bond with Min. The faint glow she knew was there from Dahlia. She kept her attention turned inward, on the same need before to close the wound and heal the tissue.
If she had encountered Dahlia in the field, months ago when Kirby was tracking down Nobles, would she have flinched? Probably. Kirby liked Dahlia, and the decision to continue doing so was made easier by the fact that Frey and Fen trusted her. She couldn’t watch Dahlia die.
“Huntress,” Min said gently. “I believe it worked. She’s alive.”
Kirby’s breath hitched and she finally dared. Dahlia still lay unconscious.
“Now we wait.” Min squeezed Kirby’
s hand.
Brit had joined them, knelling at Kirby’s other side, worried gaze fixed on Dahlia.
Kirby looked at Frey. “What happened?”
“We went to Aya’s for any information we could find about Gluskab. We were coming out and someone opened fire on us. I didn’t stick around to ask questions, I just brought her back here.”
Kirby swallowed a hysterical and not at all amused laugh. No wonder she was the one to do all the dirty work when she did FU jobs. “If it was FU, they have the worst shooters in history.”
“Storm troopers in training, am I right?” Dahlia asked.
The familiar voice and light teasing made Kirby laugh-sob and tears of relief pricked her eyelids. She was almost knocked on her ass when Dahlia threw her arms around Kirby’s neck.
“You’re alive.” Dahlia squealed, stealing Kirby’s line. “I mean, a lot of people said so, but seeing you in person is so much better than hearing rumors. Gods, you’re alive.” Dahlia slid onto the floor in a controlled fall and shifted her hug to Brit. “And you’re here, too. Oh my god. I can’t believe it. And you’re together. Are you together? I’m so glad you’re both here. I missed you so much.” She pulled away and looked around the room. “Why is everyone staring at me?”
This was so different than the guarded greeting Magnus gave them. And Kirby welcomed it. “You were shot.”
“Oh.” Dahlia looked down and poked at the hole in her shirt. “Yeah. That sucked. But I’m better now.” She jabbed her stomach again. “How...?”
“Him.” Kirby jerked her head toward Min.
He squeezed her fingers. “Us. You made her whole.”
Warmth and gratitude spilled through Kirby.
Dahlia gave Min a brief nod. “Thank you. Both of you.”
How much did Dahlia know about Kirby? At least the concern was minimal that Frey and Fen had told bad stories.
Dahlia stood and they joined her. She looked completely better, aside from the drying blood on her clothes and skin. She tugged the hem of Brit’s shirt. “I got you guys all gross. I’m sorry. I really need a shower. Oh. They have a bathhouse here. An honest-to-god bathhouse. You should come with me.” She grabbed Kirby’s and Brit’s hands. “We can catch up. Compare notes on immortal dicks.” Dahlia looked at Brit. “Sorry. Or you know, whatever.”
“We have a lot to talk about,” Starkad said sharply. “The gossip session should wait.”
Dahlia’s posture shifted in an instant. It was subtle, but years of training with her made the stiffening of her back and the way her shoulders went back obvious. She faced the rest of the room and moved closer to Frey.
A bath sounded like an incredible idea, and since Kirby should be cautious, it also sounded like a great way to catch up with Dahlia and at the same time gage who she was. Like Magnus, like any of them, she could lie. But Kirby could at least get a sense of how guarded Dahlia was in a longer conversation.
Kirby also wanted to compare notes and make plans.
“Fifteen minute debrief to determine next steps and decide how critical they are.” Kirby hated the practicality of the decision, especially after spending the last several hours fucking and fighting and fooling around. But this was the moment they’d been waiting for. If their plans included fighting now, a shower wouldn’t matter to Kirby and Dahlia wouldn’t be going with them.
Dahlia jammed her hands in her pockets. “We never really get out, do we?”
The implication raked over Kirby. “This is necessary, and it’s not just a product of TOM. I’ve fought in wars—”
“Yeah. Past lives. I’ve heard. Were you Bad Ass Sergeant Kirby in Charge in any of those lives?” Dahlia’s tone wasn’t accusatory, simply... sad? “I was hoping after a few years, I could put it all behind me.”
“I don’t know if I ever will.” The confession startled Kirby. Under the surface she’d always known she couldn’t remove herself from any of her pasts, including this one, but she’d hoped she’d be able to at least lock it away. That didn’t seem like the best idea anymore. “I’ll let go of some parts of it, maybe. But war is coming. It doesn’t stop because I want it to, and I can’t sit back and watch.”
Shit, that sounded judgey. “Not that I mean... I don’t expect anyone to take the same stance or fault them for making their own choices. Play to your strengths. I hated what Hel put me through, but I can’t ignore the useful things I learned.”
“I’m curious if Urd told you anything useful,” Starkad said. He might be saving Kirby from the fumbling, or he could be getting tired of the tangents in a critical time. Probably a bit of both.
“You met Urd.” Frey’s tone was flat disbelief.
Brit looked skeptical too. “You sure it was her? I mean, anyone can say...”
“Positive.” Gwydion stood next to Starkad, both of them in T-shirts. They wore scars and tattoos. Were well muscled with a presence that hung over the room. How did Gwydion manage to convey kindness where Starkad was so fierce? And how did both look safe? “Not a lot of dragons left in the world,” Gwydion said.
Dahlia’s eyes grew wide and her defensive posture wilted. “Dragons are real?”
“Right? It’s so cool.” Brit cut her own laugh short. “Until one attacks you.”
Min cleared his throat. He lingered behind Kirby, dwarfing the corner, but being the opposite of imposing. In the best way possible. A large folder was tucked under his arm. “Tall, slender woman? Pale as moonlight? Tends to be vague and leave out important details even when she’s being direct?”
Kirby had almost forgotten he met Urd once. “That’s her.”
“What did she say?” Starkad was getting impatient.
“Tl;dr version? She doesn’t have anything to do with FU, and they do want me dead,” Kirby said. “To prevent a prophecy, not fulfill one.” How much more could Kirby say in front of Frey? Dahlia? She didn’t want to dive into Urd’s revelation about Kirby being able to create more Valkyrie with such a large group.
“I told you guys so.” Dahlia pointed a glare at Frey. “Queen Motherfucking Valkyrie. She won’t be the last anymore because she’ll build a new... army? Pack?”
Kirby struggled to fight a smile at Dahlia’s certainty. “Sisterhood.”
Dahlia grinned. “I like it. But he”—she jerked her thumb at Frey—“was all like We know how to read. That’s not what it says.”
“According to Urd, that’s what it says.” No reason for Kirby to hold back now. “Problem is, even though she defined the prophecy for us, and told us what Lance—FU—wants, she didn’t give us any information that will help us stop them.”
“We have something.” Dahlia looked smug. The rapidly drying blood seemed to be an afterthought. “I used Min’s tech for trend tracking, and I found... Frey tells it better.”
Frey met Kirby’s gaze. “Welcome back, by the way. I’d love to catch up when this is all over.”
“I’d like that.” Kirby was as happy to see him as she had been Fen.
“As you know, the now-stopped disasters were focused in cities where the gods are who bound Malsumis. We suspect Gluskab has the remaining seven,” Frey said. “But the magical activity hasn’t stopped. It’s centered in Mexico. We’ve been going through Aya’s things, making calls and visits, and we know where Malsumis was sealed away. Min?”
Min stepped more into the room, and flipped through the folder he held, revealing several folded sheets of paper. “One of my companies has tech that uses satellites and drones to map tunnels and similar things that are underground. These are printouts of the region where they believe Gluskab and Lance are holding everyone.”
“That was where we were, and missing all the fun, apparently,” Brit said.
Starkad’s smirk was almost feral. “You were the one who didn’t want to stay here.”
“Because you’re unbearable at the best of times, and when Kirby’s gone, you’re a beast.”
“I won’t apologize for that.” Despite his stance and expression, Starkad
was lightly teasing rather than verbally attacking.
Nice change. “Next steps,” Kirby said. “We need to be rested, and not all of us are. Dahlia needs a bath and I wouldn’t mind one either.” Time to get a better idea of who Dahlia was now. “We need a plan, and part of that will include how much we tell Vidar.”
“We’re not—”
“We are,” Kirby cut Starkad off. “We’ll plan for the contingency of betrayal, but we need people for this mission. If what Frey says is true—Gluskab has all of the original gods—then Grytha is there with the others, and Vidar has as much of a stake in this as we do.”
Starkad clenched his jaw and stared Kirby down.
Kirby didn’t want to go into this disagreeing with him, but she wasn’t backing down. She’d given her word and this was the right way to go.
She hoped.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Brit
There were a lot of terrifying creatures in the world, but Brit still counted Starkad as one of the most frightening. She wasn’t so concerned these days about him hurting her. When he was high-end irritated though, it still scared her.
Another reason she loved Kirby—who stared Starkad down unflinchingly. If this was a romance novel, they’d be the ultimate alpha couple, and Kirby was stunning in that role. Dahlia was right—Kirby really was Queen Motherfucking Valkyrie.
Brit was in awe, rather than envious.
“All right.” Starkad yielded and the tension in the room deflated.
The corners of Kirby’s mouth twitched in an unformed smile. “Eat, sleep, or do whatever you need to be frosty. You have four hours.” She grabbed Brit’s hand and Dahlia’s. “We’re going to take a bath.”
“We’re set then?” Dahlia asked.
“Lead the way,” Brit said. This situation was a lesson in contrast. Then again, so was life with Kirby in general. A least a few of them were about to go into battle, against an insane god, a dragon, and whatever soldiers they had. And first, Brit was going to have a girls’ afternoon out with the friends she grew up with. Yes, Kirby was more than a friend now. But in this moment, Dahlia tugging them down a disconcertingly suburban street, it was almost possible to pretend that the three of them were just girlfriends, looking to catch up.
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