Before so much as a squeak left her lips, Naya lunged across the floor and slammed the butt of her gun against her temple. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered as she caught the unconscious tech and slowly lowered her to the floor. She quickly bound and gagged the woman using the lab coat.
A red-eyed white mouse stared at her from the bottom of a wire cage, whiskers twitching. Behind him or her, another twenty or so cages held other mice and rats. She took pleasure in opening all of them and leaving the window of the lab ajar before continuing on her way.
Three minutes later, she reached lab number seven. The door looked like the others she’d passed on the way, but a card reader lock barred entry. She slid Trousil’s security badge through the slit. A short hum and a click signaled the electronic lock granting her access.
As she opened the door, vapors of antiseptics and disinfectant triggered an assault of memories. She’d spent so much time in labs just like this one, tied to a gurney or a chair. People in white lab coats prodding and poking her with needles.
Shaking her head, she stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind her. A lab coat hung on the back of the door, and she slipped it on, stuffing the gun in one pocket and the security card in the other. Darkness engulfed the lab, but she could make out the shapes of cabinets and counters with what little light slipped through the slats covering the window.
Against the opposite wall, a larger construction loomed, creating a checkered dark void in the gloominess. She couldn’t make out what it was. She turned the dead bolt before flipping the light switches on the panel next to the door. Bright overhead light blinded her for a second and she blinked rapidly to clear the bright spots dancing in front of her eyes.
Finally her vision cleared and she peered across the room. Familiar black eyes stared back from the inside of a human-sized cage.
Chapter 21
Her heart jumped into her throat as she stared at the cage. “Irja,” she whispered, but knew it was wrong as soon as the name left her lips.
The eyes were the same pools of darkness, but the cheekbones’ angle was more pronounced, and the hair brushed only the top of the person’s shoulders. The nose protruded at a slightly crooked angle, broken and not set properly before it healed. A large bruise bloomed across the right cheek. The jawline was wider and more squared than Irja’s.
Naya blinked and the pieces snapped together.
A man stared back at her from the cage, a male version of Irja.
She slowly walked across the room, stopping just outside arm’s reach of the cage. “Who are you?”
The man didn’t answer or rise from the cage floor. He sat with one knee up at an angle, his arm resting casually on top. Everything about his posture said relaxed and friendly, but in his eyes suspicion glittered as he watched her warily.
She crouched down to his eye level. “Do you know Irja?”
His nostrils flared and his lips thinned. She felt the tension coiling in his muscles. Still he didn’t speak.
Voices drifted in from the corridor. Naya froze and turned toward the door. They passed by and grew fainter before disappearing altogether. She stood and surveyed the room for the most likely storage site of the serum she’d come to retrieve.
Two floor-to-ceiling refrigerators flanked one of the walls. Their glass doors revealed hundreds of vials and bottles.
She grabbed a pair of scissors from one of the lab benches and walked over to study them. Simple key locks secured the doors. She quickly popped them out by jamming the sharp end of the scissors into each one and twisting.
Rifling through the vials, she spoke over her shoulder. “If you want me to let you out, I need your promise that you won’t fight. I don’t have time to kill you.” She didn’t bother turning around when only silence met her statement.
In the middle of the second refrigerator, she hit the jackpot. Small brown bottles labeled B-439 were lined up like brave little soldiers. She found a small plastic cooler on the bottom shelf and filled the container with dry ice from the cylindrical freezer unit next to the refrigerators.
Chilly steam obscured her view of the cage as she shoved as many bottles as she could fit into the cooler. When the steam dissipated, the man was standing on the other side of the wire mesh. She hadn’t heard him move.
He watched her intently. “How is Irja?” he croaked, as if he hadn’t used his voice in a while.
She took a step closer, but stopped when he jerked back. “She’s well. She healed me when I was injured.”
A ghost of a smile flittered over his lips. “I haven’t seen her in almost a century, but she is still a practicing noita.”
Naya frowned. “I have no idea what that means.”
“It means my twin sister is a witch.”
His twin. It rang true. The two appeared so alike, it couldn’t be a coincidence. “Would you like me to take you to her?”
“Who are you?” He leaned toward her. “I sense your berserker close to the surface, but you don’t act as if the warrior spirit is in control, and you don’t look like a Valkyrie.”
Naya didn’t understand half of what he said. “I’m not a Valkyrie.” She walked over to investigate the lock on the cage. “I’d love to chat more, but how about we do a walk-and-talk?” She rattled the hanging lock. “I’m kind of in a hurry.” Damn, the lock contained a series of interlocking gear wheels. With some time, she’d be able to figure out the combination.
She scanned the room again, her gaze landing on a cylindrical tank. No bigger than an old-fashioned milk pail, she carried it over wearing the triple insulated gloves she found on top of the lid. “Stay back,” she said before opening the container and lifting it up to the lock.
“What’s in there?” Irja’s brother asked.
“Liquid nitrogen.” She tipped the tank and a stream of super cold liquid hit the lock, evaporating immediately with a low hiss. Naya grabbed the lock in one glove and jerked downward. The metal shattered into three pieces and took a large chunk of the wire mesh with it as it clanked to the floor. She opened the cage and peered in at the man. “You coming?”
Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked to the lab door. She felt rather than heard him following closely behind her. At the door, she turned off the lights and listened for any movements on the other side.
The lock had made quite a racket, but it was evening and most of the personnel had probably gone home. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the map she’d created of the facility in her mind.
Irja’s twin moved up behind her.
She slipped into the corridor with him close on her heels. Rather than heading back toward the entrance, she opted for an emergency exit in the opposite direction. Skirting the outside of the building to get to her car would attract less attention.
Before they exited, she ditched the white lab coat, stuffing the contents of the pockets into her bag. Irja’s brother waited patiently by her side. His presence had the same effect as his sister’s. Her shoulders relaxed and her breathing slowed down. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Pekka,” he said but didn’t ask for hers before opening the door and melting into the evening shadows.
She quickly followed, working hard to copy his stealth. “So, Pekka, do you know where you’re going?” she hissed through the darkness.
A flash of teeth glimmered. “No,” he whispered back.
“Then how about letting me lead?” She slipped past him, careful to keep close to the wall. They flanked the building soundlessly until her car was in view.
Naya cursed under her breath in the dark corner where she and Pekka stood close to the main entrance. Several streetlights illuminated the shiny blue exterior of the rental car still parked in the courtyard. Two armed guards, probably some of the soldier boys from before, stood by the front door, her car straight in their line of vision.
Pekka touched her shoulder. “Wait here,” he whispered.
She turned to answer him, but he had vanished
. A quiet scratching on the roof made her look up just in time to catch his boot disappearing over the edge.
Shit.
They didn’t have time for whatever covert spy game he was playing. She glanced at the two guards. They stood on each side of the door, chatting quietly.
Naya gasped as Pekka appeared on the roof just above them. He stared straight at her, signaling a throwing motion. She picked up a rock from the ground and threw it across the courtyard. The projectile bounced and landed a few yards in front of the guards. On immediate high alert, they raised their machine guns and took a step forward, leaving the cover of the roof overhang.
Like a liquid shadow, Pekka spilled from above with his arms stretched out. He grabbed the side of the guards’ heads and knocked them together.
Naya winced at the bone-on-bone and teeth-rattling sounds. The two soldiers crumpled.
Before they hit the ground, she shot out from her hiding place and sprinted toward the car.
Floodlights lit up the courtyard like the Fourth of July. Armed men streamed out of every building, their guns pointed straight at Naya and Pekka.
She raised her arms at their shouted commands. Four soldiers surrounded her, three keeping her in their gun sights while the other patted her down and removed her gun.
Naya desperately searched for Irja’s brother behind them. He’d armed himself with the two guns from the felled men. “Put down your guns!” someone shouted at him. “Put down your guns or we kill your friend.”
Killing the head researcher must have scratched her off the “keep alive” list.
* * *
The sterile room reeked of antiseptic. Naya avoided looking at the hospital bed in the corner. It brought up too many bad memories.
The lab must be in a tizzy with Dr. Trousil dead, because the guards had dumped Pekka and her in this room together. Prisoners were always kept separate according to the textbook Naya had learned from during her training. The quality of instruction in the lab was obviously lacking. Or maybe they didn’t need to separate them because they would both die anyway.
The worst part was that they’d taken away her cooler. She’d lost Scott’s last chance.
She turned to Pekka. “Why didn’t you shoot and run?”
“They outnumbered me.”
She snorted. “You would have had a good chance of making it out alive.”
He shrugged. “I couldn’t leave a friend of my sister behind. She’d never forgive me.”
“You told me you hadn’t seen Irja in a hundred years. Why?”
Pekka picked at a small scratch on his hand. “She’s hard to track down,” he finally said.
She shot him a quick glance, but he hadn’t cracked as much as a hint of a smile.
Another minute passed before he opened his mouth again. “She thinks she betrayed me, and I was too immature and too proud to set her straight.”
Naya opened her mouth to ask more questions, but he shook his head. “Not my story to tell. You must ask her.”
“I will.” But that wouldn’t happen unless they escaped, and stayed alive. “How did you end up trapped in the lab?” she asked to distract herself. They’d examined every crevice of the room. The only way of escaping would be to overpower their captors when they came to move them. If they decided to move them.
She didn’t want to think about the alternative.
Pekka studied the top of his other hand. “I was hunting in Montana when someone shot me with a tranquilizer gun.”
“Why did they capture you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. But they’re using a lot of my blood for something. They took samples every day.”
“That’s all you know?” Naya purposefully didn’t look at him. He seemed more comfortable not making eye contact.
“I’ve been imprisoned for several months. Long enough to figure out they’re running some sort of genetic experiments.” He turned toward her. “Why are you here? And how do you know my sister?”
Naya told him an abbreviated version of escaping the lab and meeting Leif and his tribe of warriors. “I need the Batch 439 serum to cure my brother,” she finished up.
Pekka studied her for several seconds. “If you are not a Valkyrie, why is there a berserker pacing inside you?”
“What’s a berserker?”
He waved his hand in the air. “Your warrior spirit. Didn’t anyone explain while you lived with the warriors?”
Another secret the Viking king had omitted. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”
“Every Norse warrior has a berserker inside them. In battle, it rises up and makes them almost indestructible. If a Viking or Valkyrie allows the berserker to completely overtake them during battle, the warrior spirit needs to be calmed down afterward. If it isn’t, the berserker may take over the warrior’s psyche and he or she succumbs to permanent battle fever.”
“How do you calm down this warrior spirit?” Were the uncontrollable anger and her red-washed vision related to this berserker-thingie?
“This is one of Freya’s secrets, but one way to completely control your berserker is to have a själsfrände.”
“The bond that makes the serpent tattoo complete?” Naya turned toward him.
Pekka glanced away. “Yes. Very few of us are lucky enough to meet our soul’s true mate.” Pekka tilted his head. “Most Valkyries wouldn’t allow their warrior spirit as close to the surface as you have without close proximity to their själsfrände.”
She was so sick and tired of this soul-mate crap. “You say ‘lucky enough,’ but why would anyone want to subject themselves to something that manipulates their emotions and makes them do things they don’t want to do?”
His eyes widened. “The bond doesn’t make anyone experience emotions not already there. A warrior can’t manipulate the själsfrände to do something against their will.”
To her embarrassment, tears filled her eyes. “Are you sure?”
He studied her carefully. “To be with your själsfrände is to experience the most authentic connection possible. When two souls recognize each other and trigger the bond, they connect with the gods and goddesses.”
Naya thought about the silver-haired woman she’d seen the last time she and Leif had made love. Had that been a goddess? Thinking about Leif filled her mind with images of him and her in bed together, and her restlessness increased. She squelched thoughts of Leif and concentrated on what Pekka had told her. Was it possible that Leif had no more control over this bond thing than she had? Hope rose in her chest. “What happens if the two själsfrände split up?”
“Once bonded, the two partners need to stay close together. The bond gives them incredible strength and energy reserves, but if they are separated, they are weakened and become physically ill. Sometimes, a warrior can lose control over the berserker if their själsfrände is separated from them or dies.”
“How do they regain control again?”
“They don’t. A berserker out of control will have to be put down. Odin or Freya will call the warrior back to Valhalla and induce the eternal sleep.”
She swallowed hard.
Irja had said Leif was sick and that Naya was the cause. She’d hurt Leif. Her stomach clenched.
She’d never see him again. Never feel the warmth of his body surrounding hers. Never have a chance to tell him how sorry she was. Or that she loved him.
The door to the room flew open. Pekka sprung up, placing himself in the path between the entrance and Naya.
Chapter 22
Leif paused in the doorway. His berserker panted, sniffing the air.
As soon as the Norse warriors had entered the compound, it had known his själsfrände was somewhere inside this building. Finally, it had found her, but an unknown male stood in the way.
Tall and gaunt, the man appeared to not have eaten or trained properly for months. His long, dark hair hung matted to his shoulders. Despite not carrying any weapons, coal-black eyes challenged Leif. He growled out his anger and ra
ised his gun, ready to kill.
“Leif, no!” His mate jumped in front of the male, shielding him with her body.
He forced his muscles to freeze but kept his weapon ready. His female approached.
“Step back.” The dark male grabbed her arm, trying to push her behind him. “His berserker is in control. You can’t reason with him now.”
Leif took a step toward the male. He sniffed the air and detected an unearthly essence around the other. Maybe he had been sent back to Midgard like his Vikings. Didn’t matter.
If he touched Leif’s själsfrände, he would die.
Raising the gun again, he bellowed a battle cry.
“Stop!” Naya shouted, holding up a hand. Her slight body hesitated before coming closer.
Blood pounded in his ears, overpowering all other sounds. The berserker howled—the sound coming out as a growl through Leif’s mouth.
Her eyes widened, but she slowly walked toward him.
The gaunt male grabbed her arm, but she shook him off.
She smelled of other men. Others had touched his själsfrände. He dug his nails into his palm to keep from throwing her on the bed in the corner and claiming her as his.
She’d been away for too long.
Blinded by anger, he grabbed her shoulder with his free hand, shaking her. “Mine!” he roared.
The gaunt man grasped Leif’s arm, but he hit him with the barrel of the gun. With a satisfying thud, the body hit the wall.
His mate gasped but didn’t resist his grip. Instead, she reached up and cupped his face.
Calm power flowed from the spot where she touched him, radiating through his body. The berserker soaked up her energy like a healing balm, almost purring as it relinquished some of its control of Leif’s body and senses. He shook his head as the red haze cleared from his vision. He felt stronger now and more in control. Appalled, he carefully caressed where he had grasped her, touching his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I’m not hurt.” She stroked his jaw. “I didn’t know about your berserker or how the bond affected your control. I would never have left if I did.” Naya paused. “Or at least I would have tried to talk to you instead of just leaving the fortress.”
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