Between the Blade and the Heart

by Amanda Hocking

Marlow continued to stare at me, blinking a few times, as if the concept of visiting with your child was completely foreign to her, but then she stepped back and motioned me inside. “Come on in, then.”

  The apartment had always been rather cramped, but since I’d moved out, it seemed that Marlow had become a bit of a hoarder. Empty cardboard boxes were piled up on one wall, blocking the only window into the living room, and her new purchases were stacked on every available surface.

  Except for the lumpy old couch, but based on the blankets and pillows on it, I guessed that for some reason Marlow had taken to sleeping on the couch instead of in her bedroom.

  “I’m still half asleep. I was working last night,” Marlow explained as she walked into her tiny kitchenette. She worked nights at a call center helping people in emergencies.

  “It’s okay,” I said, absently picking up an olive-green bayonet that Mom had stacked on an end table. Glancing around the room, it seemed like most of her new stuff was army surplus. Other than the sealed plastic tubs labeled brown rice and lentils stacked up beside her TV, which glowed dully with an old black-and-white movie.

  Marlow had apparently become some kind of prepper.

  “Do you want anything?” Marlow asked, moving aside take-out containers to make herself a cup of coffee.

  I shook my head. “No, I’m good.”

  “Suit yourself.” She topped off her mug of coffee with a half-empty bottle of vodka, then she leaned back against the counter and turned to face me. “So, to what do I owe this visit?”

  “I just wanted to see how you were doing,” I lied.

  Marlow took a long drink of her coffee and shrugged. “Well, as you can see, I’m fine.”

  I barely managed to suppress the scoff in my throat. Marlow did not look fine, but I couldn’t say that to her. So I just lowered my eyes and pulled out a kitchen chair from the table, one of the only clean spaces in the apartment.

  “Now, do you want to tell me what you’re really doing here?” Marlow asked, cutting straight through the bullshit. She’d never had time for small talk.

  “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something weird that happened last night.” I stared down at my hands, fiddling with the multiple rings I wore. “This guy broke into my apartment.”

  “Was he trying to rob you?” Marlow asked without a hint of worry.

  I suppose she knew that I could handle myself, and she could see that I was fine, but it still would’ve been nice if she’d feigned a little bit of motherly concern.

  “No, he just wanted to talk, and he apparently thought breaking in was the best way to do that,” I said, trying to ignore the growing ball of dread in the pit of my stomach. “He told me about his mom, Adela Värja. She was a Valkyrie, and she was killed three years ago.”

  Marlow furrowed her brow, but didn’t show any signs of recognition. “Why did he think you would care about that?”

  “Well, he had this whole long story about what happened,” I tried to explain as nonchalantly as I could, like I’d never even considered the possibility that he might be right. “He said an immortal had killed Adela because a different Valkyrie had failed to kill that same immortal.”

  I waited a beat, watching Marlow’s blank expression before saying, “The immortal’s name was Tamerlane Fayette.”

  She coughed then, choking on her coffee. She turned her back to me and leaned over the sink, coughing hard for a moment, and I felt like I might throw up.

  Even though I knew—I knew the moment she gagged on her coffee—I pushed on ahead. I had to hear her admit it. I had to know her side of the story.

  “He said that you were supposed to kill Tamerlane, but that you didn’t,” I went on. “Did that happen? Did you not follow your orders?”

  Marlow leaned with her hands against the sink and her shoulders slumped. “How could you even ask me that?”

  “Marlow, I just need to know,” I pressed. “I have to know if what he said was true.”

  She cleared her throat, then wiped her mouth with the back of her arm. “Do you know how many immortals I’ve killed in my career?”

  “No, I—”

  “Over seven hundred immortals,” she said and turned back to face me. “I’ve been doing this since I was eighteen years old, so that averages out to twenty-five a year.”

  “That’s an impressive number,” I said, since I had no idea what kind of response she was hoping to elicit.

  “I have been an excellent Valkyrie,” she insisted. “I did what I was told, when I was told, and I killed seven hundred immortals. Some of them fought me. Some of them went out quietly. A few even thanked me.

  “But most of them…” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Most of them just cried and begged for me to spare their lives. And I would tell them all the same thing: ‘It’s not my decision.’”

  Marlow opened her eyes. “But that was a lie. Do you know that?”

  I shook my head emphatically. “It’s not our decision. It comes down from the Eralim.”

  “But we have a choice, Malin!” Marlow snapped at me. “We are living, breathing humans. We might have different powers and skills than most other mortals, but we have free will just like the rest of them. We don’t have to just follow orders!”

  “Right, you can quit!” I shot back. “If you don’t want to be a Valkyrie, then don’t be one. Valkyries quit or retire all the time. A girl in my class last semester flunked out because she couldn’t hack it.”

  She laughed bitterly. “Oh, Malin, it’s not that simple.”

  “Yes, it is,” I persisted. “That’s your choice as a human—you can work as a Valkyrie or not. But if you choose to be a Valkyrie, you must follow orders! All of life on earth depends on it!”

  Marlow rolled her eyes. “You are so melodramatic sometimes.” Then she pulled out a kitchen chair, knocking a stack of boxes to the floor as she did, and sat down across from me. “You want me to tell you about Tamerlane Fayette?”

  No. I didn’t want to know. It would be so much easier if I never knew the truth, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself from saying, “Yes. Please.”

  “After Samael gave me my assignment, I tracked down Tamerlane and I followed him, the way I always do when I get a job,” Marlow explained. “And you know what he did in the days that I stalked him? He bought his wife flowers. He took his kids to school. He raised money for orphans. Once, I saw him rescue a mangy dog on the street.”

  “He sounds like a real saint, Marlow,” I said dryly. “But he can’t have been the first saint you killed.”

  “No, he wasn’t,” Marlow admitted, barely blinking back tears. “But he was good, Malin. He helped so many people! Why would the world be better without him? How could it?”

  “Oh, holy hell, Marlow.” I bowed my head and rubbed my temples, desperately fighting to keep the bile from rising in my throat. “He was supposed to die! Don’t you understand what you’ve done?”

  Marlow stood up quickly, pushing her chair back so hard it clattered to the floor. “No, I know what they’ve told me. But I just couldn’t believe it, with him. I went to kill him, but when I looked into his eyes, I only saw his light and goodness. He promised me he’d make the world even better if he lived.”

  “Well, obviously he lied!” I shouted. “Because he killed a Valkyrie!”

  Marlow shook her head. “That’s what they told you. Doesn’t make it true.”

  I stood up. “Do you know what happened to Tamerlane’s family? They’re all dead. They were all brutally killed six months after he was supposed to die.”

  Her face paled even further. “What? Why?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Tamerlane killed them.” I shrugged. “Or maybe you’re just not supposed to fuck with the order, and now everything is out of balance, and who the hell knows who is going to die next?”

  She pressed her lips together tightly, trying to stop them from trembling, and shook her head fiercely. “No. He was good.” Her breath caught in her thr
oat, and when she spoke again, her words were barely audible. “I wanted to do something good, for once.”

  “You do do something good!” I yelled in disbelief. “Don’t you get it? The world will fall apart without Valkyries.”

  My phone started ringing in my bag, an impatient demand, and I didn’t want to argue anymore, so I turned my back to Marlow and dug it out. Samael’s name flashed brightly across the screen.

  “It’s Samael,” I told my mom.

  “Go,” she said in a blank voice. “Take it. He probably has a job for you, and we don’t have anything more to talk about.”

  I left without saying anything else to her, and I didn’t answer the phone. I needed to compose myself before speaking to someone like Samael. I hopped on my luft and sped across the city, fighting back nausea and feeling like I’d just learned that everything I believed in was a lie.

  THIRTEEN

  Atlas greeted me with a warm smile at the end of the long copper corridor, but Godfrey just stared ahead with his solitary bulbous eye. My footfalls seemed to echo off the marble floors louder than normal, and the distance to Samael’s office had never felt farther before.

  “You’re on your own today, Malin?” Atlas grinned down cheerily as I finally reached him.

  I attempted to return his smile, but I couldn’t shake the sick feeling I had, so I was sure it came out crooked and tense. “Yeah. Just me.”

  “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you here without your mother,” Atlas commented. “You must be doing well, then. It won’t be much longer until you’re licensed to go solo.”

  “Yeah, something like that.” I laughed uneasily and rubbed the back of my neck. “Is Samael ready to see me?”

  “He should be,” Godfrey muttered in a few gruff syllables.

  “Go on in,” Atlas said and pushed against the massive bronze door, holding it open for me.

  Samael sat behind his desk, studying something intently on his computer monitor. With his curls tucked up in a messy bun paired with the tailored dress shirt he wore, he appeared even more like a college kid playing dress-up.

  He lifted his head and smiled at the sound of the door opening. As soon as he realized it was just me, standing alone in his spacious office, his smile fell away.

  “Where’s Marlow?” Samael asked, slowly getting to his feet.

  Behind him, rain pattered against the large window. A flash of lightning glared off the buildings that surrounded us, and the glass trembled for a second.

  “She’s, uh, she’s at home,” I replied, gulping back my nerves. “She thought I would be able to handle this on my own.”

  “Well.” He stared off for a moment, drumming his fingers against the dark stone of his desk, and then he cleared his throat. “I’m sure you can.” He smiled at me, but it felt flatter than usual.

  When I’d finally returned Samael’s phone call, he’d told me to come in for another assignment. He hadn’t specifically requested that Marlow come with me, but he hadn’t needed to. Protocol was that I wasn’t supposed to attend meetings or go on any assignments on my own until I was licensed.

  But after what Marlow had told me today, I didn’t trust myself to act normally around her. It was hard enough acting normal without her presence. Besides, it didn’t seem like Marlow cared as much about the rules as I once believed she had.

  “Anyway.” Samael picked up his e-tablet and came around his desk toward me. “I’ve got another assignment for you.”

  “So soon?” I asked.

  Last year, when I had first started apprenticing with Marlow, she was getting two or maybe three assignments a month, and my own assignments were usually much, much fewer and farther apart. But my last one had been completed early Tuesday morning, and today was just Thursday.

  “We’ve been busier lately,” Samael answered vaguely as he scrolled through his tablet and took a seat on the couch.

  “I thought it would be more consistent, like a job every two or three weeks,” I said and sat down beside him.

  “The birth and death rate isn’t an exact constant, not for humans or immortals. Right now we must be having a rise in births, which would explain the compensation in the other direction,” he explained, but he didn’t sound entirely confident in his answer.

  He stopped, staring off into space again. There was a subtle twitching at the corner of his eyes, like he was trying to figure something out.

  “Samael?” I asked at length, when it felt like he’d been lost in thought too long.

  He snapped back to life, offering me an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that.” He rubbed the palm of his hand against his eyes. “It’s been a long week.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, but I was beginning to fear that it actually was not okay. That nothing might be okay ever again.

  “Anyway, your new assignment.” Samael tilted the tablet toward me so I’d be able to see the screen. “All of this info has been uploaded to your secure Riksdag drop box, just like always, but it’s still important for me to go over it with you, especially since you’re still new to the job.”

  The picture showed a beautiful woman onstage for what appeared to be a high-class burlesque show. Her features were so perfect—flawless alabaster skin, flowing black hair, and wide brown eyes.

  “Her name is Amaryllis Mori,” Samael explained as he scrolled through a few more pictures, before stopping at a screen with all her pertinent info. “She’s a Jorogumo. Have you ever dealt with one of those before?”

  I shook my head. “No, but I’ve heard of them.”

  Samael brushed this off with an easy smile. “They’re not too hard to deal with. A little more difficult than a Trasgu, but most things are.”

  Her profile said that she had been born in Japan 349 years ago. Sometimes, seeing a number on the screen like that, it hit me about all that she’d seen, all that she’d done, and now it was all coming to an end. And there was nothing she could do, even with all her experience and power.

  “She’s been working at a gentleman’s club called Nysa in the Gold Coast District, which thankfully is only about an hour from here,” Samael said. He lowered the tablet, then spoke more conversationally. “You know, I’ve sent Marlow on assignments as far away as Tanzania.”

  I remembered. When I was ten, I’d spent two weeks with Oona and her mom while Marlow took care of business on the other side of the world. She didn’t call or write the entire time she was gone, and I’d had nightmares that she died.

  “I went with her that trip. Didn’t seem safe for her to go that far alone,” Samael explained, but there was something wistful in his eyes. Then he shook his head, clearing it of the memories. “But this business with Amaryllis should be no problem.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I said, even though I no longer had such confidence in myself or in the job. Marlow’s confession had shaken everything I thought I knew.

  Samael locked the screen and tilted his body to face me more directly. “So, do you have other questions or concerns?”

  In my head, I wanted to tell him about Marlow and Tamerlane Fayette and Adela Värja’s death. But I couldn’t. While I knew that Samael was fond of my mother, I knew also that if the Evig Riksdag found out what she’d done—or rather, hadn’t done—it would be very, very bad news for her.

  So instead I just forced a smile and said, “Nope. I think I got it.”

  I stood up, preparing to leave, when Samael stopped me. “Is Marlow okay?”

  “Yeah, of course,” I replied quickly. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

  “I’ve just never known her to miss a meeting like this,” Samael said.

  “Yeah, um, yeah, I think she was just feeling a bit under the weather, and she thinks that I’m ready for more responsibility,” I explained lamely.

  Samael stood up slowly. “If Marlow is busy, we could maybe look into getting you a new mentor.”

  I swallowed back my unease. “I’m not sure what Marlow’s schedule is like right now. You’
d have to talk to her about that.”

  “Hmm.” He rubbed his chin absently as he thought. “Maybe I could talk to Quinn Devane…” He trailed off, glancing back over at the couch behind us.

  That’s where Quinn had been sitting the first time I met her just over a year ago. Her hair had been dark then, a vibrant midnight-blue that cascaded down over her shoulders, and she’d been wearing a minidress that showed off her long, sinewy legs.

  When she smiled at me—her lopsided smile filled with secrets and wishes—time seemed to slow for a moment. I could hear the sound of my heart beating, and the air suddenly felt too thin in the room.

  Then she was standing and walking over to me, and my thoughts were scrambling—had I ever seen anyone as beautiful as her before, why did my hands feel so clammy, did I look as dumb as I felt, what would I say to her, and how could I speak?

  “You must be Malin Krigare,” she said, her eyes fluttering over my body in a way that made my skin flush. “I’m Quinn Devane. Samael thought I could help you.”

  “Why, uh, why would you do that?” I fumbled over my words, my tongue thick and clumsy. I tried to play it off all cool but I knew everything was coming out wrong.

  “Because I’m a Valkyrie.” Her smile broadened, looking amused. “I have more experience, so I can show you around.”

  I couldn’t tell if that was an innuendo, or if I was just hoping it was one. The playful look in her green eyes and the mischievous twitch of her slender lips made me question this, and I could feel my cheeks reddening. I’d dated plenty before Quinn, both guys and girls, but I’d never felt so tongue-tied and flustered before.

  “That should be very educational,” I replied, trying much too hard to seem nonchalant and cool.

  “I’m the finest teacher,” she assured me.

  I lowered my eyes, struggling to calm the racing heart and the growing swirl of butterflies inside me. My gaze happened to land on her chest—just above the crescent of her décolletage a dark red scar ran across, connecting her collarbones.

  “An ennedi,” Quinn said, startling me into looking back up at her.

  “What?” I asked dumbly.