by Lauren Dawes
Taer swallowed her irritation, but from between her clenched teeth, she said, “Deal.” Like hell she was going to close her eyes, though. She followed him up in the lift to the apartment they now shared.
“Sit. I’ll make you something to eat,” Korvain commanded, pulling things from the fridge and setting them out on the bench. Taer bit her tongue and did as she was told. A minute later, a haphazardly slapped together turkey on rye was placed in front of her. Taer forced herself to eat it while Korvain watched on.
Seemingly satisfied, Korvain walked away, stripping the shirt over his head as he did. Taer caught the flash of black ink running the width of his shoulders. It was his contract with Darrion, inked with blood, and she wondered whether it was still active considering Darrion was currently off the grid.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he called over his shoulder. “And Tay?” he added. She turned to look at him. “Get some sleep. You look like shit.”
*
Eir’s eyes opened, her body waking slowly from the small nap she’d taken before having to go work her shift at the hospital. Although she didn’t feel like it, she knew she had to go. She had to maintain some sort of semblance of her life before her twin sister had been ripped from her by a deranged god.
The door to her room was slightly ajar, allowing Bryn and Korvain’s faint whispers to filter through.
“How’s Taer doing?” Bryn asked, her voice gentle. The leader of their dwindling little group had taken the young Mare into her care almost immediately when Korvain had brought her to be healed after Darrion’s attack.
“She’s doing all right,” the Korvain replied, sighing. “I just wish she’d talk to me about it.”
There was a long pause.
“Do you want me to talk to her? Or maybe Eir could? She lost her sister, so maybe they could help each other.”
Eir squeezed her eyes shut, but a solitary tear slid free. Kristy. Gods, she felt so hollow inside with her twin gone. Watching the light fade from her sister’s eyes had killed something inside of her.
They’d given Kristy and the other Valkyries the funerals they’d deserved the day after Korvain had rescued her and Bryn from Loki, but it would take a long time before Eir could forget. Grief didn’t abide by time. She could only imagine the pain Taer must have been going through, too.
Korvain’s coarse, rumbling voice drifted back into her bedroom. “I’ll ask her.”
Eir pushed the light blanket from her body and sat up. Picking up the small, silver fob watch from her bedside table, she noted the time. She had about an hour and a half before her shift at the hospital started.
Kicking her legs off the side of the bed, Eir sat on the edge of the mattress and finger-combed her blonde hair. Braiding it with practiced fingers, she secured the end and got up, stretching out her back until her muscles felt loose.
Eir crept to the door, listening carefully to hear where Korvain and Bryn were. Eir liked Korvain—now she’d got over the initial shock that he was actually a Shadow Walker. And Bryn seemed happy for the first time since she’d left Odin’s service.
When the apartment door opened then closed, Eir padded out into the hallway. A touch to her shoulder from behind stopped her, spinning her around.
“Eir,” Korvain said, taking back his hand and folding his arms across his chest. Eir took a small step back, that old fear rearing its ugly head. Korvain noticed the subtle shift in her behavior and loosened his arms, letting them drop to his side. He made a show of displaying empty hands.
“Sorry,” she replied, taking a deep breath and shrugging. “Old habits.”
His dark eyes were watchful. “You don’t have to apologize. I get it.”
She wondered whether he did get it. Eir guessed Bryn hadn’t told him that Odin had personally ordered them to kill all Mares on sight while they were still in his service. The Valkyries had even gone on killing missions to known dark elf settlements to slaughter them all.
Bryn had been the most voracious in her drive to kill every single Mare in the Nine Worlds, all in her desire to please the All-Father.
How things had changed.
Eir lifted her eyes to his face once more. “Did you need me for something?”
Korvain reached up to scrub the back of his skull, and his bicep flexed and relaxed, reminding Eir that he was still dangerous. He was a tamed tiger right now, but he could unsheathe his claws at any time to protect what was his.
“Yeah. I was kind of hoping you’d speak to Taer about … about how she’s feeling. She won’t speak to me, and I know she’s bottling things up.” Eir nodded sympathetically. “She hasn’t even cried about Adrian’s death yet. Has she said anything to you about losing her brother?”
“No.” Eir paused, wondering whether she should tell him what had happened that morning, and every morning since the death of Taer’s brother.
“Do you know something, Eir?” Korvain pressed, reclaiming the small steps he’d taken away from her.
She blew out a breath, meeting his dark, intense gaze. “I had to wake her up this morning. She’s been having nightmares, but today’s one was unusually violent. She was in a cold sweat. Her vitals were all over the place, and I had to slow her heart rate down.”
“Gods,” Korvain muttered, his hand raking through his hair again. “I had a hunch about the dreams, and she didn’t correct me earlier.”
“After I stabilized her, I asked whether she wanted to talk about what she’d dreamed of. Her response was emphatic, and I didn’t want to push her.”
Korvain’s concern for the young Mare radiated from his body, his harsh face etched with lines from the corners of his eyes and mouth. “Fuck, what am I supposed to do?”
Eir placed a tentative hand on his forearm, letting her natural healing ability take over, taking away some of his pain. “If you want my opinion, I’d leave her be for a little longer. Adrian’s death is still a bleeding wound for her … she didn’t have the opportunity to see his body and say goodbye.” Eir paused to swallow past the sudden lump in her throat. “Give her a while longer to grieve.”
Her voice cracked over the last word. Korvain moved towards her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling Eir against his chest. She stiffened in his embrace for just a moment—both terrified and unwilling to fall apart in front of him—but as soon as he uttered, “I’m so sorry, Eir. I didn’t think,” the tears began to roll unashamedly down her cheeks.
She wasn’t sure how long he held her like that, but eventually he gently pushed her from his body, thumbing away a stray tear from her cheek. Eir took a moment to realize what a contradiction Korvain truly was. He was a Shadow Walker—one of the most feared assassins in all the Nine Worlds. He was death, yet, here he was, holding her, cradling her and supporting her while she fell apart. Bryn was incredibly lucky to have him in her life.
The apartment door opened and closed at that moment, making Eir take another step back and hastily swipe at the tears still clinging to her cheeks. She looked at Bryn as she stepped into the kitchen. “I should get ready,” she said. “I have to go to work soon.”
Chapter 2
Taer had made sure to keep the smile plastered on her face as Korvain told her to get some sleep. Restful sleep just wasn’t on the cards for her. Not anymore. She’d come to that realization and accepted it. Besides, she had work to do, and all this waiting around was making her skin itch.
She watched Korvain disappear into the master bedroom he shared with Bryn, waiting until she heard the door click closed before she slipped inside the room she shared with Eir.
Moving quietly, Taer retrieved the Beretta 92 Steel she’d ‘acquired’ to replace the one she’d lost in the fire, checking it over. Pulling on the leather holster, she slid the weapon into place and threw a jacket over her sweats and tee, making sure the collar would cover up her scar.
The quiet determination she had been sitting on for the past few weeks was finally paying off. Her injuries had prevented her from goin
g out and tracking down the Mare who had murdered her brother, but now she was healed. Now she would be able to follow the leads she’d come up with while she rebuilt her strength.
She could hear the shower running from behind the door to the master bedroom. Soundlessly, she slipped from the apartment and made her way down to the lower levels of the club, stepping out of the rear door and walking into a wall of icy air and the bitter perfume of car fumes and rotting garbage.
She walked towards the end of the alleyway that ran along the side of the club, emerging on the sidewalk. It had rained recently and the cement was slick from the recent downpour; puddles of water stood in the depressions of the bowed sideway, their surfaces shivering with the wind that seemed to blow straight through Taer.
Wrapping the jacket more tightly around her body, Taer walked away from the club, making sure she was a few blocks away before fading to one of the last known addresses of a Mare who was one of Darrion’s longest serving Walkers. She figured if anyone knew where the former guild master was, it would be him.
Stepping from the shadows of a dilapidated house, Taer looked up at the apartment building Nieven was rumored to live in. It looked as depressing as every other building on the street, and seemed a fitting home for that piece of shit.
She watched the place for a few minutes, her eyes darting over to the surrounding buildings every time there was the slightest hint of movement. The minutes seemed to drip by and yet nothing happened. It was quiet … perhaps too quiet.
Just as she was about to pull away, about to give up on Nieven as a possible lead and return to the club, a man walked up to the property—his walk a little too casual to be really casual.
“Nieven,” Taer spat under her breath, his name a curse on her lips. She took a step closer to her target, her gaze predatory as he walked up the stairs of the apartment building and disappeared inside. Taer let out a breath and faded to the top of the stairs, watching the front door close. Waiting a few more minutes, she ghosted inside the building, remembering some of the skills Korvain had taught her while she was recovering from her wounds.
She kept her footsteps light, following the Mare undetected. She sneered to herself. How in the hell had this fucker become a Mare when he couldn’t even tell when someone was following him? The cocksucker deserved to die for his ignorance, but not until Taer had pumped him for the information she needed.
Down the hallway and around a corner, Taer continued to follow him, her fingers touching the grip of her Beretta as she moved along the wall. Nieven took one last corner before his footsteps stopped.
Taer stayed hidden, listening carefully as his key slid into the lock, the teeth chattering along the tumbler like gunshots in the silence of the building. Keeping herself flat to the wall, she peered around the corner in time to see the Mare enter his apartment, the door slamming behind him. Taer walked towards the door, looking the doorway over. There were no runes to protect against fading. There was nothing extraordinary about the security measures either—just a deadbolt.
Nieven had become complacent—after only a few weeks. With Darrion gone, it appeared as if every member of his guild had lost their fear. Fading directly into the room would be too dangerous, but luckily she didn’t have to wait too long to figure out what she was going to do.
The dull rush of a shower running vibrated through the thin wooden door, telling her that Nieven was no longer in the room. Giving it a few more minutes, Taer faded directly into the apartment, just beyond the front door. Palming her weapon, she looked around the apartment, taking note of everything she could see.
The white walls were grubby with marks and nicotine stains. Not one stick of furniture was new, nor was it complete. Each piece had something broken, or something missing. Taer had to wonder why the Mare lived like he did. From what she understood, many Walkers made good money, and when they didn’t, they would work in the human world like … he had.
Shaking off her unwanted thoughts, Taer followed the sound of the water, navigating through the one and only bedroom to the bathroom door. It had been left slightly ajar, a sliver of dirty yellow light cutting across the dingy, olive green carpet. Taer’s feet straddled this light as she waited for the Golden Second.
She remembered Korvain’s lesson on that. She had been laid up in bed for about a week, alternating between healing sessions with Eir and long periods of rest, so her body would heal naturally. She’d gone stir-crazy just lying there.
“How much longer am I going to be here?” she asked Korvain as he sat on the chair he’d dragged into Eir’s room from the kitchen.
He indulged her with a rare smile. “As long as it takes. You need to heal.”
They were not the words she had wanted to hear. “We’re wasting time,” she said, shooting him a fierce look. To her dismay, he only laughed.
“You need to get strong enough to start weapons training with me, and I won’t start until you’re ready. And right now, you aren’t ready.”
“I’m ready,” she replied hotly. She was ready to get her revenge, and the more time they wasted, the more time Darrion had to get away. She couldn’t let him. She just couldn’t.
Korvain’s weary sigh cut through the room. “Tay, have you ever heard of something called the Golden Second?”
She stared at the Mare. “What’s that?”
Leaning back in his chair, Korvain studied her face. “It’s that perfect second when you’ve come face to face with your enemy, and they’ve realized that they didn’t even know you were there. It’s that split second where you have the upper hand, and that advantage is hard for them to take back.”
Taer hadn’t really understood what Korvain had meant when he’d spoken about the Golden Second, but she understood it now—standing there, waiting for Nieven to appear. He had no idea she was inside his inner sanctum. He had no idea that he would more than likely be dead by the end of the hour.
The shower cut off with a sharp squeal from the taps.
The drip of water.
The snap of a towel.
Taer raised her arms carefully, the Beretta trained on the spot where Nieven’s head would appear. The door opened, more light spilling into the room and onto Taer. Nieven had a towel wrapped around his hips and was running another one roughly through his hair.
Her lips twitched up into a sardonic grin when he finally noticed her and stopped abruptly. His eyes darted around the room—no doubt looking for a weapon—but Taer had already anticipated he would do this.
“Don’t even think about it,” she said quietly, and stepped toward him. She pressed the cold steel of the muzzle against his temple to drive her point home.
“Who are you?” he breathed, dropping the towel he had been using to scrub at his scalp.
“I want information,” she replied.
His pulse fluttered against his skin. “I don’t know where Darrion is,” he replied.
“Who said anything about Darrion?” Her voice was cold and even.
“You’re not the first to come looking for him. I’ll tell you what I told the last guy: I don’t know where Darrion is. He hasn’t contacted me.”
Against her better judgement, she pushed on. “Who asked you where Darrion was?”
The Walker shrugged, and Taer pressed the muzzle in tighter. Nieven winced and his breath caught in his throat. “I didn’t get his name.”
Had Korvain already pressed this guy? When? And why hadn’t he told her? The muscle in Taer’s jaw flexed.
“Where’s Darrion?” she asked, moving her finger from the guard and onto the trigger. She had no problems with blowing this guy’s head wide open. Hell, it would probably improve the decor.
“I told you, I don’t know.” He tried to step away, but Taer moved with him. She would find the bastard one way or another. Nieven had the balls to stay tight-lipped for a few moments longer until Taer removed the gun from his head and pressed it against his crotch. The Mare yelped and attempted to step away, slamming against the wal
l beside the bathroom door.
His fear would prevent him from fading, and he damn well knew it. Taer repositioned her weapon, aiming right between his eyes, and cocked her head to the side. “His location. Now.”
“I already told you. I don’t know.”
Was he stalling, or would she be able to get more information from him? Or had his usefulness worn out? She met his defiant gaze, her lips flexing into the barest smile.
“Wrong answer.”
The sharp tang of gunpowder filled the room, the sound of the explosion ricocheting in Taer’s eardrums. Warm blood splattered her face and neck, her eyes closing against the spray. Nieven’s lifeless body sagged to the ground, the back of his head a mess leaking out all over the filthy carpets. Taer bent down, staring at the look of surprise on his face. Had he really thought she wouldn’t kill him?
It didn’t matter. Nieven had been disposable. There were plenty of other people out there who would have the information she sought. Taer stood up from her crouch, put the safety back on the Beretta and faded from the apartment.
Chapter 3
Svartalfheim—893 AD
Darrion had been playing outside with his sister when he first heard the screams coming from down the road. Standing up from their game of runes, he shielded the sun from his eyes and squinted down into the valley that spread out beyond their house.
Dotted along the road were small houses made of stone and thatch, much like the house Darrion had been born into and grew up in. Suddenly, a flash of color caught his eye. He looked a little harder, squinting against the sun.
“What is it, Dar?” his little sister, Ara, asked. “Why are people screaming?”
Darrion looked down, taking in the smudge of dirt on her cheek. Ara had taken after their mother with her dark hair and eyes. She looked more like a Mare than he ever would. “I don’t know,” he replied, casting his eyes back out toward the road. A few houses were burning, their roofs having been set alight.
