by Susan Harris
Donnie looked down the street, a memory playing out in front of his eyes, of them walking hand in hand, anticipation in the air, tension in their limbs, knowing that they could not go back after this night, no matter how hard they tried.
“But that’s not when I fell in love with you.” Donnie shared with her. “ I fell in love with you one day after you had a nightmare. It was the first time my mind-reading powers manifested, about a year after I became a vampire, and I was powerless to stop what happened to you in the nightmare. You woke screaming so hard that I thought you would rip your vocal cords. And as soon as you remembered that you had an unwanted houseguest living right below, you covered your mouth and screamed on the inside.”
“I never wanted you to see that side of me.”
“But I did, and it didn’t scare me away. Getting inside your head made me understand you a little bit more. I couldn’t understand, with my tiny male brain, why you obviously wanted me but never acted on it. That day, I knocked on your bedroom door, yet you never answered. Defeated, I went back to bed but could not sleep. After a few minutes, my bedroom door creaked open, and your scent filled my nostrils. Cait, you slipped into my bed and curled up on your side, your back to me, and I could have sworn my heart skipped a beat.”
“Which is impossible, since it did not beat.”
Donnie nudged her with his shoulder. “Shh, I’m trying to be romantic and shit.”
Caitlyn snorted. “Forgive me. Carry on.”
“As I was saying.” Donnie went on with his tale. “I lay there staring at the goddamn ceiling, not knowing what to do, your scent waking me up. But you turned to face me then, fast asleep, a peaceful yet troubled expression on your face. I watched you for few minutes. A nightmare began to creep its way into your mind again. So I just acted, slipped my arms around you, pulled you up into my chest, and as soon as you lay your head against my chest, you stilled, the nightmare ceasing. I felt like a fucking superhero that day. I had the most beautiful woman in the world asleep next to me, despite the obvious trauma she’d been through, and she trusted me to keep her safe, especially when she could kick some serious ass.”
“And I ran out before you woke and neglected to mention or even thank you for keeping the nightmares at bay.”
“But you did thank me. The next time that you had a nightmare, after ignoring me for a week, you came back to me, to my bed and let me hold you. That meant everything to me.”
They’d been walking for a while now, and Donnie paused to look at her. “I appreciated what I had within my grasp. That you had given me a home, something I never had before. You, Caitlyn, showed me what a family really could be like and gave me a purpose when you asked Sarge to let me join P.I.T., and you gave me you, as much of you as you could. And that made me fall for you.”
And he was still ridiculously in love with her and always would be. The woman who gave him a home, love, a family, and he knew in that moment exactly why he had to let Sebastian walk into that house.
Because he had to have a little bit of faith that he and Caitlyn were meant to be. That he could make peace with the ghost of the man who held Caitlyn’s human heart as much as he hoped that he, Donnie, had the vampire one just as she had told him after he asked her if she wanted to be married like humans do.
He heard her voice in his ear, as if she were solid and standing beside him. “Sebastian held my human heart, but you, Donnie, only you hold the vampire one. I married only once in my human life, and I will only marry once in the vampire way.”
Donnie cast one last glance toward the window and the woman he loved, then he inclined his head to Sebastian and walked away. He didn’t dare look back to see if Sebastian had walked into the house or not, because while he could be the person to grant Cait her happiness, he wasn’t built of stone, and seeing it would break him.
Rounding the corner, Donnie saw he was no longer in Paris. The cobbled stones of Temple Bar were beneath his feet. His head was dizzy from drink, his heart beating in his chest. He still had his memories, his sorrow of what would never be in his veins.
His feet tangled, and he landed on the ground with a thud. He felt something twist in his hand, however he was too drunk to feel any pain. Lying on his back as rain hit him hard in the face, he laughed, though he was unsure as to why.
“Look at the almighty Donald O’Carroll lying in the gutter, just like his mam left him on the day he was born!”
Rage flooded his veins at the stark reminder of both his birth and the death of his teenage mother, too ashamed to seek help after giving birth to her baby down a Cork City alley. Her family hadn’t wanted a bastard child to bring shame to their good name. Growing up in foster care had only added to his anger and self-loathing.
Donnie knew he had been sent down the path that had changed his life for the better, but now, there would be no guardian angel to save him, and he was powerless to stop his actions.
He growled and lifted off the ground, his fists clenching. As he made to punch the sneering Dub, the native sidestepped, sending Donnie crashing to the ground. A boot connected with his stomach, and he groaned in pain before vomiting all over someone’s shoes.
“Now that’s just fucking rude, Donnie lad. We should make ya lick it clean.”
“Go fuck yourself,” he replied as he rose to his knees.
His attacker smacked him, open-palmed, across the face, hard enough to draw blood from Donnie’s lip. Donnie spat the blood on the ground and, like a madman, grinned up at his assailant, bloody mouth and all.
“Resorting to a bitch slap; that’s low, man. C’mon, at least grow some balls and hit me like a man. I’ve been spanked harder than that.”
His comments were answered with a boot to the face, followed by swift kicks from the other men with the Dubliner. Dizziness made him nauseated, and he closed his eyes to calm the feeling. When he felt himself being pulled along, Donnie opened his eyes long enough to realize he was being dragged down an alley.
He knew, in that exact moment, that he was going to die.
The kicks came more frequently now—to his stomach, chest, and his head. He lost count of how many times he blacked out. It hurt to breathe, and he could taste blood in his mouth. After what seemed like an age, two of the men backed away, and he heard one say, “Come on, Damo. You’re gonna kill him.”
He received one final boot, this time to his face, and felt bone crunch—he had broken his nose so many times, he knew the feeling instantly—but his entire body hurt so much that a broken nose was the least of his worries. He would die in a darkened alley, leaving the world as he’d been brought in—alone and bloody.
Donnie opened his eyes to gaze once more on the sky before he died, but instead of seeing the gunmetal eyes of Caitlyn Hardi, he saw only rain as his eyes fluttered, and just before he died, Donnie uttered, je t'aime, Caitlyn, je t'aime.
Sitting on top of her skull throne, Hel, known on earth as Helen, huffed out a breath with boredom as she contemplated a trip to Midgard to see how the war against Odin was proceeding. She missed her friend Melanie, who, by the way, had not even bothered to send her flowers or a gift for saving her lover.
Then the Thor girl had tried to rough her up, and Hel had not liked that, but the girl smelled of her brother, and she would rather be upset than have Fenrir hunt her down because she had made the puny goddess bleed.
She glanced at Baldur, who stared out into the underworld beside her, his expression blank and joyless as it had been when she dragged him down here. Hel—the place, not the person—had sucked the joy and light from the god.
Awareness washed over her as she darted upright, righting her rainbow-colored tutu and striding to the mouth of her cold palace and glancing down at the army of the dead, who jostled each other as they moved.
Hel blinked as one of her dead vanished, then another, then a handful all vanished before her eyes. “What the …”
Her words were cut off as her hound, Garmr, howled, a low, mournful sound that sent a
shiver along her spine.
“Bad dog, shush!” she chided him, but Garmr continued to howl at the entrance to the underworld as the souls she had kept for eternity began to vanish at an alarming rate.
Glancing over her shoulder just in time to see Baldur disappear, Hel glanced back at her hound and sighed. “Well, that’s not good.”
Caitlyn
* * *
“I go to death with no fear in my heart, for I will be rewarded by him in Valhalla, when he is victorious in battle.”
“Mon dieu, foolish girl,” Caitlyn muttered at the rhetoric coming from the little warrior’s mouth. She knew of those who followed blindly, those who demanded such reverence, and many a young woman who was ruined by it, and it was such a shame that this poor girl now had to face the consequences of when a man had been the master wielding the puppet.
“She may be centuries old, but she has yet to see that not all gods are good and that even the evilest of men and women can have sheep who will follow them blindly.”
Caitlyn knew Marcel was speaking of Cain, though his eyes had shifted to where Kenzie stood, her niece stealing looks at the vampire who was stoic by Marcel’s side.
“Kenzie saved him. Mateo. From the other vampire who appeared when they killed my Jean. She told him to run and if she ever saw him again, she would decapitate him.”
Caitlyn chuckled as this Mateo said softly, “I think she was flirting with me.”
“I look at her and I still see the person who murdered my love. I sent Mateo to keep a check on her, waiting for her to make a mistake so I would have the right to have my vengeance. Yet Mateo tells me she has done quite a lot to make amends, even facing down one of her new sisters in a fighting ring,” Marcel said softly, so that only Caitlyn heard him speak.
“That bravado almost got her killed.”
“Nada.” Mateo offered with a mischievous smile. “She moved like a harpy out for blood. It was something to watch.”
“What are they going to do to her?” Melanie whispered beside her as Caitlyn slipped her hand into that of her sired child and gave a little squeeze.
Caitlyn did not have to answer, for Danae stepped forward, as did Erika, each of the Valkyrie women holding a wing in their grasp as Ever lifted her hand and sliced downward. Caitlyn saw the way the blade cut through the muscles and tendons on the girl’s back.
The scream that ripped from the girl was horrific. Melanie squeezed Caitlyn’s hand so hard, she felt her own bones tense. The girl’s wing hung loose as Ever sucked in a breath, then slashed down on the other one to the same effect.
Blood gushed from the wounds as Erika and Danae each let go of the wings that they were holding. Then Erika took the sword from Ever and finished what Ever had started. The scent of blood in the air was overwhelming, but it did not stir hunger in any of the vampires.
When Erika had severed the last of the Valkyrie’s wings, she handed the sword back to Ever, then with her bare hands, she pulled the wings away from the girl’s flesh and Marya lurched forward, vomiting on the ground.
“Nope, that’s it … can’t.” Melanie spun on her feet and was inside the warehouse before Caitlyn could stop her.
Caitlyn lifted her gaze to where Derek was standing, his eyes filled with amber as he watched Ever. This woman was not the same teacher who Derek had claimed as his mate. She was the sum of all the lives and deaths she had endured.
Ever called the other Valkyrie forward as she dipped her hand to the bleeding skin on Marya’s back, her fingers dipping into the wound, then she turned, smearing the blood down her face from eye to jaw. Caitlyn watched as one by one, Erika, then Danae, followed Ever’s lead, right down to Kenzie, who swallowed hard as she did the same, until the remaining Valkyrie all wore Marya’s blood on their skin.
“You are no longer Valkyrie. You are no longer kin. Should we meet you on the battlefield, you will not see the sun rise. We wear your blood as a reminder of the sister we lost and to remember that loyalty to family is above all.”
Ever spread her own wings, white and gold as flew up to the sky, the Valkyries all spreading their wings and joining her. They circled Marya overhead, and then they flew away as the girl cried out in agony, her fingers touching her wings.
“We call ourselves monsters. We claim that our ways are archaic. But I will never forget what I have witnessed this day. We may be monsters, dear Caitlyn, yet we will never be as vicious as the way of gods.” Marcel offered Caitlyn his opinion.
Marcel might have lost his family to Cain, much like she had, yet this was a kindness compared with what she had witnessed under the catacombs. She didn’t correct Marcel as the girl grabbed a handful of feathers and stumbled away and out of sight.
Mateo stepped forward, grabbing a bloody feather and tucking it into his pocket, then he braced himself with a pair of karambits as Ash dropped to the ground, hammer in hand, breathing hard.
“The dead … are … coming!”
Caitlyn could not have heard that right, for if she had, then exactly what did Ash mean?
There was a low sort of moaning, the sound of feet shuffling down the road as Derek went to stand beside his daughter and even Mateo braced himself. The first dead came around the corner, its eyes turning to see them. Then another and another filled their field of vision.
They would be slaughtered.
“Madre de Dios,” Mateo swore as he twirled his blades in his hand, a skill that not many could master.
“Everyone into the warehouse. We don’t have the numbers to fight them. Marcel, call back your vampires.” Caitlyn barked out the orders as Marcel confirmed that he had already done so.
Ash, Derek and Mateo stayed rooted to the spot as the first of the dead lunged, snapping its teeth at Ash, who swung with her hammer and knocked a few back. Derek growled and kicked and punched as Mateo cut through the dead like they were a mild inconvenience.
Derek grunted as one of the dead snapped her teeth right in his face, and Ash kicked the dead with so much force, its knees broke and it dropped to the ground. That did not stop it from dragging its body forward along the ground.
“Where is Rick Grimes when we need him?” Marcel muttered quietly; amusement hidden in his tone as Caitlyn glared at him. She was about to chastise him for being so glib when suddenly an aura of power filled the street and the dead halted their attack.
Melanie rushed out of the warehouse with two guns pointed toward the dead and groaned. “This can’t be good.”
Ash helped Derek to his feet as they retreated from the dead, who seemed immobile, unaware of anything outside of the frame who marched in front of them dressed in a multicolored tutu, tights with koalas on them and a T-shirt that read, Baddest bitch in the underworld.
Her hair was pulled back into two pigtails, and Caitlyn saw they had colored chalk at the ends. Pink flashing sneakers finished off the car crash of an outfit as this petite creature paced in front of the dead.
“That is not the Rick Grimes I was expecting.” Marcel chuckled. “I should come to Cork more often. Nothing is ever straightforward.”
The being stalked along the line of the dead, holding up her hands as they tried to surge forward, as if she was struggling to hold them back. She seemed to pause, lifting her palms, and popped some gum before bringing her hands together in a large clap.
“Lucy, you’ve got some ’splaining to do!” Then she stomped her foot on the ground, and the dead moaned.
“That’s right, momma is so pissed right now. You all go home now, you hear!”
Caitlyn felt the power in her voice, but the dead did not move. The being looked over her shoulder, her fathomless eyes landing on Melanie, and she waved enthusiastically.
Melanie lifted her hand in response as Ash growled. The being shouted, “Hi, Daddy!” at Loki before she stuck out her tongue at Ash.
The girl turned back to the army of the dead, who began to shuffle again, and then unleashed the first true glimpse of power. “I am Hel, the goddess of death,
and you will obey me!”
A few of the dead disappeared, slowly at first, then more, but some still lingered, a fierce growl emulating from the gathered dead.
Hel, goddess of death, sighed, then strode over to her father and motioned with her hand. “Gimmie.”
Loki shook his head. “The last time you borrowed it, you caused an earthquake.”
“It was only a small one.”
“Tell that to the people of Valdivia, Chile.”
Loki’s daughter rolled her eyes. “OMG, you said you would let that go.”
“And what of Pompeii?” Loki said with a quirked brow.
“That was all you, Dad!” Hel stomped a foot, and the lights on her trainers came to life. It was ridiculous to imagine the goddess of death standing in a tutu and flashing runners arguing with her father, the god of mischief, about who had caused which natural disaster.
“So it was … my mistake.” Loki looked sheepish at the realization that they were both equally responsible for historic events.
Caitlyn watched the interaction between father and daughter, smiling a little despite the gravity of their situation. Loki sighed again, then held out his hand. A scepter that looked like it was solid gold, with a silver-tipped curve at the end, appeared in his hands.
Hel strode back over to where the dead waited, then she slammed the heel of the scepter into the ground. It trembled at the impact, and Hel repeated the action. This time, the ground did not so much as tremble but quake.
The road cracked, then it was as if the layers were peeled back, revealing a chasm to the underworld. Coldness crept along the street, and Caitlyn shuddered. Derek, Ash and Mateo fell back in line with them. The dead groaned and moaned as if they did not want to return from whence they came.
“Off you pop, now, back where you belong,” Hel said with the cheeriest of smiles on her face, and this time, when she glanced over her shoulder, her features flashed, revealing the grotesque skull under her guise. Mateo blessed himself.
