What's Up, Buttercup? (Vexatious Valkyries Book 1)

by Jane Cousins

  “No, no need to thank me. After all, I owe you. All that manoeuvring you did and money you spent to make me King? The least I can do, is be close by to heckle when your gorgeous Valkyrie plays whack a mole with your head, and uses your guts to decorate the sidewalk.”

  “Ah, I can see you’re well on your way to forgiving me.”

  Kaleb shrugged before turning and heading for the liquor cabinet, determined to do his part in helping Galen move by emptying the contents personally. “My best friend is in love and about to make a complete and utter fool of himself, if not get killed in the process. I totally want a front row seat for that.”

  Galen refused to let Kaleb’s overly cheerful negativity get to him. He was a Conflict Demon; he knew how to get under someone’s skin. Being underfoot everywhere Stephanie went would be a good first step.

  Seeing him should remind her of all the great sex and fun times they had fucking up his aunt’s plans. Then hopefully it would just be a matter of time and attrition, wearing her down, insinuating himself into her life. She would learn to love him, or at the very least learn to tolerate his loving her, and his deep seated need to take care of her.

  He would convince her to let him into her life, or he was willing to die trying.

  He loved Stephanie. He would not live out his long, long life full of regret. She’d already proven reluctant to kill him. Which gave him a small glimmer of hope to hold on to. Of course that left the field wide open when it came to wounding, maiming, and the sudden and violent amputation of favourite appendages.

  * * *

  It was a nice change to stride through the Legal Department and not be met with the sounds of the occupants playing World of Warcraft; shouting out taunts to one another as they fought over virtual weapons, treasure and potential digital sexual partners.

  Stephanie had to bite back a smile. It had been three weeks now since Shaw Bengala had not so graciously taken over the reins of the Department, and look at the progress that had been made. Everyone was at their desk, hunched over, either studying their computer screen or flipping through large dusty looking tomes and making notes. The atmosphere suitably serious and intent.

  As she strode through the open planned part of the Legal Department, Stephanie was conscious of the number of heads snapping up to mark her progress. Dark glares of peevish petulance and resentment settled on her like a weight. Hmmm, seems like her Sisters were still chagrined by the fact she had appointed Shaw as Head of the Department, rather than promoting one of their lazy asses, so they could continue with their lackadaisical ways.

  Hah, well, no matter their feelings on the subject, Stephanie couldn’t help but give herself a pat on the back at her inspired choice. Just look at how much work was being achieved. Not one screen she passed had any type of computer game on it.

  The desk outside Shaw’s office at the far end of the room was empty. Stephanie knew for a fact that Human Resources had set up several interviews for suitable candidates to fill the secretarial position. From the looks of the empty desk, Shaw had yet to made a final decision.

  Stephanie couldn’t help but wonder how her recently appointed Head of Legal got any work done. Without Helgastein’s grumpy sullen butt seated in front of her office doors, she was positive she’d be inundated with a never ending stream of Valkyries wandering in to whine and complain.

  Clipboard in hand, rocking yellow capris today with a white top and matching espadrilles, Stephanie pushed open Shaw’s office door. Just managing to bring the clipboard up in time to repel the knife targeted at her heart. Thank Freyja, the clipboard was metal, as the knife pinged and fell to the carpet with a dull thud.

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  “I knew exactly who it was.” Shaw, all but reclining back in her chair, feet up on her desk, produced another knife from thin air and considered her target with green, calculating eyes.

  “Oh, you’re all bluster you are.” Stephanie sailed forth to take a seat across the desk, making sure she kept a good tight grip on her clipboard, just in case Shaw decided to take another pot-shot. “I was wondering how you got any any work done in here.” She eyed the rather alarming number of knife holes in the wooden double doors. “But I can see you’ve come up with your own unique way to keep the interruptions to a minimum. Though it would probably be less stress on maintenance if you just appointed a secretary to screen your visitors.”

  Shaw eyed her boss. She didn’t dislike Stephanie personally, she just loathed the big pile of steaming shit that she had been put in charge of. She wasn’t Management. She was a Battle Valkyrie. She didn’t do morning teas, conference calls, planning sessions or budgets. She knew nothing about performance reviews, other than to occasionally give a fellow Valkyrie a hearty pat on the back for a particularly inventive gruesome kill.

  And when it came to anything to do with the law, she was completely and utterly out of her depth. But Stephanie hadn’t wanted to hear any of the protests she’d made three weeks ago, and Shaw doubted she’d be willing to listen now.

  The new CEO had been very clear when she made the appointment, despite Shaw’s loud protests and cursing, that the last thing she wanted was a snooty know-it-all in charge. She wanted someone in Legal to motivate and manage the staff. Revamp the Department from the ground up and drag it into this century.

  Except Shaw had absolutely no idea how to go about any of those things. If she thought it would do any good, she’d throw down a challenge of skill and get this whole thing disappeared. Problem was, she still couldn’t trust - her absolutely nothing wrong with it - knee, that was continuing to cause her intermittent pain and chose weird times to give out on her.

  Then there was the matter of her opponent. Even at the peak of fitness, Shaw wasn’t completely certain she could take Stephanie. The blonde had mad battle skills and despite her recent move to the CEO position continued to train five to six hours daily. The woman was a dynamo, with boundless energy. Bouncing around the place, clipboard in hand. Issuing non-stop orders, blonde ponytail streaming behind her like a war banner.

  She could even respect the changes Stephanie had managed to bulldoze through so far. She’d already heard from Valkyries in the field that their suppliers were all going the extra mile at the moment trying to keep on Stephanie’s good side. Sheets were soft. Towels fluffy. The meat was lean and of the highest quality. Ice wagons to keep the ale cold were now automatically assigned to each basecamp. Whilst management duties of basecamps were being delegated on the basis of ability and interest.

  The re-fit and redecoration of the Executive Management floor was long overdue. And she approved whole heartedly of the announcement made earlier in the week that Management intended to lease part of the staging area to the Elves, so they could set up an in-house weapons facility. Where items could be mended, ordered or exchanged. Even better, that weapons sharpening and armour buffing services would be made available free of charge.

  Yeah, Shaw could respect Stephanie and her mission to haul the Valkyries into the current century. Though many of their Sisters were being mule-headed, grumbling and digging their heels in just to be contrary. But if Shaw had to lay money down, she’d back Stephanie. There was something relentless and driven about her boss. She steamrollered over everyone. Appearing to have a unique talent for cutting through bullshit red tape obstacles.

  Shaw had been a very reluctant participant in a meeting with all their vendors her first week on the job. Watching Stephanie decimate all those greedy, lazy bastards with a sunny smile and words, that if they’d been razors would have left their suppliers in a million pieces, had been the only bright note in Shaw’s life of late. At the end of the meeting the vendors had filed out, most shaking and pale, a few sobbing, but all promising to lift their game.

  She’d known then that Stephanie was one scary-ass Valkyrie, the highest of compliments.

  “You sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable in something a little more casual?”

  Shaw absently buffed the edge
of her gold breastplate. “No.”

  “Okay. This is our first official weekly catch up. Anything you want to report?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t want to elaborate on that?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” Stephanie glanced around the characterless office. The freshly painted creamy coloured walls and lush new matching carpet looked excellent, but something was missing. “You know, there’s room in the budget for you to add a few personal decorative touches if you wanted. A plant, or maybe a print of some kind.”

  Shaw resisted the urge to call her weapons and swing for Stephanie’s throat. She was reasonably sure that dreaded clipboard wouldn’t be able to block the sharp edge of her halberd. “I told you, I’m not staying. As soon as I get medical clearance, I’m headed back to the field.”

  “Absolutely.” Stephanie agreed, taking a breath, studying Shaw. The wild explosion of blonde and brown tight curls exploding out of her skull. The clear, calculating green eyes that were always searching for a weak spot. The way her full lips were currently tightly compressed together in frustration at her current predicament. She had to be beyond pissed at herself, her knee, and the medicos who were subjecting her to increasingly more bizarre treatments, magical spells and potions in an attempt to fix her.

  Sitting there, in her full battle armour, Shaw looked fierce, pissed off and snarly. Like any moment she was going to call her halberds and decimate everyone in the vicinity. It was a given that if anyone tried to run, then Shaw would use the somai she had twined around her upper left bicep to knock them unconscious, or kill them.

  Sadly, Shaw was the closest thing Stephanie had to a friend right now. So here she was, trying to work out the best way to start what was going to be potentially a rather awkward discussion. But what else could she do? She was in dire need of some advice. She wasn’t sleeping. Could barely eat. No matter how hard she drove herself, she couldn’t seem to shake this gnawing, empty, hollow feeling that plagued her constantly.

  Stephanie had finally been forced to accept that she couldn’t go on like this. Not without Galen in her life.

  Problem was, she had absolutely no idea how to go about claiming her Demon. Then, in a meeting a week ago, a disgruntled supplier had called her a cow, amongst other things. A lightbulb had gone off in her skull and she hadn’t been able to think about anything else since.

  “I need your advice about something. What do you know about the spoils of war clause in our client contracts?”

  Shaw looked nothing but appalled. “We’ve been over this already. I’m not a lawyer.”

  “Yeah, yeah. But you’ve been on the battlefield for over a hundred and fifty years, how do you… you know… interpret it?”

  Shaw rolled her eyes, huffing out a sigh. “I don’t know anyone who uses it much anymore. Occasionally we’ll sneak into the opposition camp and take foodstuffs… I heard Marva once stole a birthday cake right from under the nose of a particularly snotty client.”

  “So food then. What about things?”

  “Like treasure and shit? Maybe back in the old days, before we went Corporate and got a weekly pay check.”

  “No, I was thinking more along the lines of… livestock.”

  “A horse? Most of the horses I’ve seen on the battlefield are more fearsome than their owners. Yeah, I get why you’d want one of them. As long as you don’t name it something like Sparkles Sunshine Pansy Pie, then I doubt any of our Sisters would blink an eye. But where would you keep it?”

  “I’m not after a horse, more like a… cow.”

  Shaw blinked slowly in genuine surprise. “Is it a killer cow?”

  “It’s been known to do some damage. I kind of stumbled over it during my last campaign and it… surrendered to me.”

  “A killer talking cow? Now this I’ve gotta see. And you said it surrendered to you? I hope you have pet insurance, or a really massive barbeque.”

  “I didn’t exactly take it up on the offer at the time. Though if I did want to claim it, how would I go about doing that?”

  “Seriously? Valkyrie up, woman. Plant your boot on it and tell it who’s the boss. Simple.”

  Stephanie nodded abruptly, a resolute look entering her eyes. “Simple.” Standing quickly, she headed for the door, she had places to be and a Demon to claim. “Oh, one last question.” She turned to look back at Shaw who was twirling a sharp blade absently back and forth across her knuckles. “What did you do or say to motivate your Department? I’ve never seen them so busy or conscientious.”

  “Those twits? They’re frantically looking for a legal way to oust me as Head of the Department.”

  “Oh. And you’re okay with that?”

  “I offered an Elven made weapon of their choice as a reward to anyone who was successful in getting me out of this hell.”

  Stephanie paused, unsure how to respond. On the one hand, the slothful laggards weren’t playing World of Warcraft non-stop. On the other hand, they were diligently researching Valkyrie laws, codes, regulations, and mandates in a bid to get rid of Shaw. Hmmm, she could deal with this or she could go claim her spoils of war?

  Deciding to look on this burst of activity in the Legal Department as a sign that the team were capable of applying themselves when required, Stephanie held up a thumb and winked at a dumbfounded Shaw. Who was expecting to be reprimanded, or more hopefully, kicked out and sent home.

  “Good job. Way to think outside the box when it comes to motivating your staff.”

  Shaw closed her eyes as Stephanie departed, a decidedly jaunty bounce in her step all of a sudden. Damn, she had a frightening realisation as she shifted slightly and her knee twinged, she was never getting out of this job unless it was in a body bag. Fuck.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Galen ignored the alarming amount of cleavage being thrust in his direction. “Will you please instruct your client to answer the question?” He fought not to roll his eyes, or explain to the soon to be ex-Mrs Rossi that her surgeon-given assets were wasted on him. He’d seen, touched and tasted the best. Georgi Rossi, self proclaimed fashion influencer, didn’t have a hope in hell of distracting or attracting him.

  Seated next to Galen, Frank Rossi Jr muttered unintelligible curse words in Italian under his breath. Frank owned a number of luxury car dealerships along with his two siblings. Short, round, and beginning to go bald. Frank was gregarious and loud. A natural salesperson possibly in spite of his lack of height and average looks. He came across as a good guy, trusty-worthy, and fair. A rare breed amongst car salesmen. The success of the business mainly attributed to him.

  This deposition was to establish, amongst other things, the whereabouts of six luxury cars Georgi had stolen over the past five months, following their abrupt separation. Frank having caught Georgi doing the downward dog - sans clothes - with her yoga instructor.

  On six occasions Georgi had boldly sashayed into one of the car showrooms when she knew Frank would be absent. Taken the car keys off the staff board, and breezed out, claiming she just wanted a test drive.

  Her story? No such thing ever happened. That Frank’s staff were lying.

  Georgi wasn’t going to like the series of photos Galen’s newly hired private investigators had uncovered. Seriously, don’t steal cars and then post photos of yourself draped all over them wearing a variety of high-end outfits.

  He finished up the deposition with The Rossi’s. Georgi left looking smug and pleased with herself, and Galen had to spend half an hour reassuring Frank Jr that this was just early days yet in the proceedings. In fact, the bigger the hole they could get Georgi on record making for herself, all the better when it came to the settlement.

  It also gave him and his team more time to do some digging. Find out who she’d sold the cars to and where all the hideously expensive clothes and jewellery Frank had bought for Georgi over the last three years had gone. Because she was claiming she was cash poor and all but on the poverty line. Thank the Lord Lucifer, Frank had
kept all the receipts

  Back in his office, Galen went to stand by the large picture window. Staring unseeingly at the bustling business district outside the sixth floor building he’d chosen to set up his new West Coast based firm.

  It grated on Galen that his very competent private investigators had failed to come up with very little information in regards to Stephanie’s whereabouts. He knew where she worked, the so-called International Insurance firm that had a rather stunning amount of female employees. He knew where she lived. But as yet, his people, who he had watching both sites, had failed to catch a single glimpse of her. It was beyond frustrating.

  How could he stalk her if he couldn’t even find her?

  He worried that she was back on one of the Fjornfiall planes, fighting some unknown Horde of leering assholes. He had faith she was okay. Even though she did have a tendency to push herself to the very limit. Too often ignoring any injuries she incurred. He could only hope that the Valkyrie medics would insist upon healing her at the end of each day. Whether she liked it or not.

  Grrr. He hated not knowing where Stephanie was. If she was okay. If she was eating right. Damn, if he could just see for himself. Even a long range, blurry photo would help calm the churning in his gut. But so far his recently hired team had come up empty.

  Sighing, Galen sat down at his desk to absently shuffle files around. In addition to the six New York based divorce settlements that he hadn’t been able to stomach the notion of handing off to any of his peers. He’d also managed to pick up three cases since his move to Los Angeles. So it wasn’t like he didn’t have plenty of work to do as he waited impatiently for any news regarding Stephanie’s whereabouts. It was just that his care factor was running on almost empty.

  It had taken all his mental resources to find this location, hire an office manager, get it staffed and up and running. He needed somewhere to go each day, otherwise he’d go crazy… or was that crazier without Stephanie in his life?

  For the moment, he was residing in a suite at the Bel-Air Hotel. He’d attempted to look at a few properties online, but found himself too indecisive. Trying to picture whether Stephanie would be happy visiting there or not and having no fucking clue. Pure frustration wracked him. If he could just see her. If she would just walk into his office… like she was doing right at this very moment.