Valkyrie's Claim: Paranormal Romance (Academy of the Immortals Book 2)

by Angel Lawson

  Are we really done with one another?

  Regardless, he doesn’t answer.

  “Hildi knows our conditions. If she hands over the key, we’ll stop everything.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Is it?” He stands, revealing his size. He’s almost as big as I am—and on the battlefield as terrifying. He towers over the girls, who have taken a tentative step back. “This ends one way, Agis, with the opening of the gate. We can play petty school games as long as you want, but eventually, we’ll find it and this battle will truly begin.”

  He sits back down and gestures the girl with the tray to move closer. He picks up a red, ripe berry and pops it in his mouth. “You and I both know Victorine has barely scratched the surface of what she’s capable of. These punishments, although amusing, are child’s play. Something to entertain the students before she unleashes her wrath.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask, barely restraining my anger.

  “Because we can.” He holds my eye. “And because it hurts you more than it hurts her.”

  I want to argue that. Deny it. Tell him to fuck off.

  But I don’t.

  Can’t.

  I turn and leave Roland at his desk, glancing at the painting of the monster on the wall.

  We’re all afraid of it. Of Victorine. And frankly, a little of Roland, but one day, they’ll push one of us too far and there will be no turning back.

  “Agis,” he calls, just as I reach the open door, “you may want to come to the challenge tonight.”

  “Why is that?”

  He smiles and plucks another piece of fruit off the tray. “Because things are about to get interesting.”

  36

  Marshal

  You’d never know it from the energy of the crowd, but the challenges have become tiresome. Night after night of the same thing; students plucked from the stands, hooded and revealed on the field. The weakest have already been taken care of, stashed in a dungeon under the arena. The strong are trotted out to fight again, or worse, taken somewhere by Victorine. Probably that repulsive nest she’s built up in the tower.

  I shudder, not wishing that on anyone.

  “Cold?” Roland asks, pushing a bottle of drink toward me. “That’ll warm you up.” He grabs one of the twins, Cora, I think, and pushes her toward me. She runs a skinny arm around my shoulder and perches in my lap. “She’ll do, too.”

  I fight a grimace and feign interest in the bony witch sitting on me. Her nails run down the side of my face and she tilts my chin. “I can keep you warm.”

  “I’m sure you can, witchling.” I rest a hand on her hollow back.

  We’re in Roland’s box—the best seats to watch the field. Marielle is snuggled under his arm, running her hand up and down his leg. The truth is I expected better of her, but she’s a follower. The Nephilim is too good for her.

  I uncork the bottle and consume all of it in one long gulp. The liquid burns and threatens to come back up, but I wince and hold it down. My head aches…a common occurrence lately. Partly from the incessant waft of Roland’s incense. It’s a gods-awful stench. The other from the continuous self-medication that has become my norm over the last few weeks. It’s easier to numb the mind than accept my chosen fate. I’m already sure I’ll need more than this one drink to get through the night ahead.

  Each night, the events begin with increasing flourish. Lights. Music. Once, fireworks. Tonight, a shimmering cloud appears in the middle of the field—sandwiched between the cage that holds whatever devious creation Victorine plans on unleashing and the gaping opening that the challengers arrive through.

  Roland has a particularly strange grin on his face as the activities begin. Marielle whispers in his ear and they both laugh.

  “Am I missing something?” I ask, leaning forward. The witch places her hand on my inner thigh. I carefully move it aside.

  “The Valkyrie is stubborn,” he gives me a pointed look, “as you know. Victorine has done her best to bring her down a peg or two. Convince her into handing over the key. She was certain last night would be enough.”

  “She a glutton for punishment,” Marielle says. “I think she likes getting on her hands and knees.”

  Again, all eyes focus on me. If they only knew. With Hildi, I was the one on my knees. All she had to do was snap her little fingers.

  “You’re right,” I say, leaning back in my seat and sliding my hand around Cora’s too-narrow waist. “She is stubborn, whatever you have in mind, I doubt she’ll fall for.”

  But I’ve seen Hildi. Been watching her. The degrading outfits. The menial chores. I’d come the night before and watched as she scrubbed out the blood, fighting every urge to lift her off her knees and carry her away.

  While I hesitated, pondered, processed…someone beat me to it. I watched in silence as he carried her off, jealous and defeated.

  In that moment she looked bad, covered in blood, worn and exhausted. Even the strongest of us have cracks.

  I reach for another bottle and unplug the cork, thinking it’s better to be drunk for this. That is, until I see Victorine walk through the cloud, in a stunning silver dress, cruel smile on her mouth. There’s a bounce in her step and her eyes scan the crowd; no doubt who she’s looking for. I catch myself looking, too.

  “Tonight, we’ll have our first solo contender for the challenge,” Victorine says, eyes flashing as the crowd rumbles with renewed interest, “along with another change.” She waves her hand in the direction of the box, the shiny metal sides dropping through the floor.

  Inside are six furry little beasts. The tone of the crowd instantly shifts, a few “Awws” can be heard over the chatter.

  “What the hell are those?” Marielle asks. “Teddy bears?”

  “No, those aren’t toys,” Cora purrs in my ear, her teeth tug at my earlobe, “they bite.”

  “One of Victorine’s personal creations,” Roland says, eyes glinting with delight.

  Unease crawls up my spine. Unlike every other challenge where the illusions are nothing but fear and mist, I sense something different on the field. Smell it, too.

  “Those aren’t—”

  “Illusions,” Cora says. “They’re real, and their teeth will shred the skin off a dragon.”

  Marielle’s eyes light up, and Roland kisses her neck. Sweat beads on my lower back, and I set down the bottle of booze. Now isn’t the time.

  “Tonight,” Victorine shouts, over the buzzing crowd, “our challenger will face off against six of the most terrorizing creatures ever imagined. If she survives, she’ll be the leader in my army. If she fails?” She shrugs. “There won’t be much to clean up.”

  Victorine holds up her hands, a signal that the challenge is about to begin. Everyone in the arena begins a drumbeat with their feet, stomping down on the stone floors, making an ear-splitting rhythm. Cora and Marielle stand, laughing like schoolgirls, joining in the game, while Roland slips his hand beneath the vampire’s skirt.

  The small creatures mill around the cage, looking uninterested as a figure, their prey, is pushed out of the hole. My first reaction is a rush of relief. It’s a female, but too short for Hildi.

  That’s until her hood is removed in a swift, unforgiving yank.

  “Fuck,” I say aloud, uncaring who hears me.

  It’s not Hildi.

  I stare down at the tiny fairy, possibly the one person that will force the Valkyrie’s hand.

  Elizabeth.

  37

  Hildi

  I woke that day, flat on my stomach, blinking at the sunlight, streaming in from the top of the window. A quick glance at Elizabeth’s bed told me she’d left, but there’s also a plate with a pastry, fruit, and steaming coffee on my desk. I wonder who left it there? My roommate or my winged lover?

  Who, I thought sitting up and looking at my healed hands and knees, simply slept with me. Nothing more. Held me. Comforted me. What kind of lover does that?

  More than ever, I beli
eve he was real. But who is he? Why is he coming to me at night like a thief?

  I spent the day in my room, not interested in seeing anyone. I skipped out on training. I boycotted dinner. I read a book I found on the desk. It was Elizabeth’s, thick parchment about some kind of spell work. I kept looking back at my hands to see if there was any blood on them.

  There wasn’t.

  Hours pass and I’m still sitting alone. The dorm’s oddly quiet, I’m assuming at another challenge. The truth is, I’m waiting for the knock. The message. The hand-scrawled note. If anyone were here, I’d admit that Victorine got in my head. She found a crack and slithered in. It’s what she does, right? That’s what the Immortals told me. It’s why they’ve kept their distance.

  I look down at the ring and wonder what Morgan would say about this. How do you fight someone that plays dirty like this? She’d tell me I’m strong.

  I am strong.

  Why am I hiding in here?

  Knuckles rap on the door. I knew in my heart it would come. Nothing good is ever on the other side. Just more work, more humiliation, more demeaning.

  I consider ignoring it.

  “Hildi—it’s Miya.”

  I stand and walk across the room, opening the door. His eyes sweep over me; concerned.

  “Hi,” I say.

  His lips pull in a tight line. “I need you to come with me.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “To go where?”

  “The challenge.”

  I bark a laugh. “Oh, hell no. You know I’m not going.”

  “It’s important.” His jaw tenses and his eyes flick over my shoulder.

  “There’s nothing that could be that important for me to go to the challenge. I mean, odds are I’ll have to clean up the mess when it’s over anyway.” I walk back into the room, glancing at Elizabeth’s bed. Huh. She never came back. I turn slowly. “Where’s Elizabeth?”

  There’s zero doubt from the expression on his face that he knows.

  “Get your shoes,” is all he says.

  “What did she do?” I ask in a quiet voice. We both know who she is and it’s not my roommate.

  “Hildi…”

  There’s urgency in Miya’s normally calm tone, and I feel like if I just keep stalling, maybe I can pretend none of this is happening.

  “It’s happening. Elizabeth is in the challenge tonight. I think you need to come.”

  I finally spring into action, rushing to put on clothes; the leather pants Elizabeth gave me, durable and flexible enough for fighting, a tank and my boots. I stop before my trunk and rummage around inside. I feel the hard hilt of the sword Morgan gave me.

  Miya’s eyebrow raises. “You just keep that in there?”

  I slide it through a strap on my belt.

  “Sorry I don’t have a weapons closet like some people.” I push past him and enter the hall. “Where are the others?”

  “Doing what we do during challenges.” He follows me down the stairs. “Watching, waiting, staying out of sight.”

  “Why didn’t you help Elizabeth?”

  He stops and reaches for me, pulling me to a stop. His dark eyes hold mine.

  “I did. I came to find you.”

  I fight a retort—a low blow about how he could have done better—but it’s weak, and wrong. Victorine chose Elizabeth for one reason.

  To draw me out.

  38

  Armin

  Being in the arena makes me glad I’ve avoided the challenges so far. Everything is a spectacle—a platform for Victorine to toy with the students like rats caught in a cage. I wouldn’t have come tonight, except Agis pushed us to. He came back to the training room and hit a punching bag so hard it dismantled from the hook and crashed into the wall.

  He’d seen Roland, and whatever our former ally told him didn’t sit well.

  Rupert, Agis, and I entered separately, mingling in the crowds. Miya took to the dungeons, checking on the prisoners. I can’t help but look at the emerald green grass. Not a speck of blood from the prior event.

  My eyes are drawn to the box seat in the stands. Roland is there sitting beside Marshal. Marielle hangs onto Roland and I spot one of the twins in Marshal’s lap. A false grin is plastered on his handsome face. If there’s one thing the Knight knows what to do, it’s fake it. He’ll probably smile at the gods as they take his final breaths.

  Marshal’s gaze is focused on the field below, and cheers draw my attention to the center of the field. Victorine walks out in a cloud. She taunts the crowd, announces that it’s time for the first solo challenge. Points to her cage. I narrow my eyes at the small animals inside. There’s something different about them. Something concrete.

  What has her demented mind created?

  From where I stand I see one of the animals bare its teeth. They are sharp, many, and complied in rows.

  Maybe this is why Roland encouraged Agis to come. There’s been a shift in the game, and he wants us to witness it. Or at least that’s what I assume as the gaping hole opens across the field, allowing the challenger to walk onto the field, head covered in a dark hood. The person’s stature is small, and if they speak it’s drowned out by the sound of the ravenous crowd. The guard yanks off the hood at the same time Victorine opens the cage.

  My heart skids to a stop when I see Elizabeth at the other end of the field, her hair a mess from the hood. Her eyes wide with confusion and terror. I watch as her expression transforms, watching the small, fluffy animals come racing toward her. They look sweet. Gentle, but under the cheers is the low growl of their hunger.

  Panicked, Elizabeth looks around—probably for a weapon.

  “Armin,” Rupert says from behind me. Where he came from, I’m not sure. “Do something.”

  “I can’t move an illusion.”

  His face is paler than normal. “I don’t think those are an illusion.”

  The stakes just got higher.

  “What if someone sees? What if Roland knows I can do this?”

  “Hildi will never forgive any of us, or herself, if something happens to Elizabeth.”

  With concentration, I allow a ripple under the surface of the field—large enough that it knocks the animals off balance. They stumble, giving Elizabeth a chance to jump up on the abandoned platform. I look up and see Victorine is now sitting next to Roland, sipping a goblet of wine.

  “More,” he says.

  Again, I use my powers, the ones that are developing faster now that I’m at the Academy. I trip a creature leaping toward the platform. I topple another as it hangs by its sharp nails. Elizabeth manages to kick one of the creatures off the stage. It yelps as it flies across the field. The dichotomy is strange. The animals are fuzzy and innocent-looking. Their teeth and claws are deadly.

  On the ground they regroup, circling the stage.

  “Fuck,” Rupert says, tugging at my sleeve. In the cage, ten new creatures have appeared. They waste no time charging toward the stage.

  I take a deep breath and prepare to disrupt the challenge, but a figure emerges from the side of the field. My stomach sinks, along with my heart.

  Hildi strides across the field, her sword, glinting in her hands.

  “What is she doing here?” Rupert asks, voice rising. We both see Miya running after her. The bond pulls, ebbing between the four of us. I scan the crowd for Agis but see, and sense, nothing.

  I look up above and see Victorine smiling. Marshal, on the other hand, the look on his face sends a chill down my spine.

  “It’s time,” I say to Rupert, pushing through the crowd to the edge of the field.

  He catches up. “For what?”

  “To end this.”

  39

  Hildi

  The energy of the crowd changes when they see that I’ve entered the arena. I ignore them, zeroing in on the animals attacking my friend. Elizabeth shrieks, doing what she can, but there are bloody wounds on her arms and legs.

  The small animals are so consumed with attacking her tha
t they don’t see me coming. Not until it’s too late. By then, I’ve gutted one of the little monsters with my sword, impaling it in the back. I take the head off the next, slicing through its little, furry neck. Blood spatters, and I mutter a curse. Damn all the work I did the day before, scrubbing the floor.

  The animals seem to multiply, regardless of how many I kill, there seem to be twice as many. I look up at my friend, tired and injured. Leaping on the stage, I crouch next to her, settling into a protective stance.

  “They won’t stop,” Elizabeth cries.

  “I need you to get out of here.”

  “And go where?” The walls surrounding the arena are high. I’d had to climb over it to get in. Getting out seems impossible. “The guards will catch me.”

  An animal lunges for us. I skewer him with the blade.

  “It’s not you they want.”

  A group of the small creatures attack at once, going for my boots, my legs. Sharp teeth bury in my leg. Another cuts through the leather of my shoe. I cry out, and stab downward, trying to get one off, but their strength is amplified, vicious.

  I glance out and see the field before us, filled with the rabid animals. There are so many, too many, and I reach for Elizabeth’s hand, pulling her to follow. We scramble off the platform, across the field to the cage. The fairy is fast, her feet quick. We dart and dodge the animals that, although they are vicious, are not exceptionally smart. If we can just get on top, it may buy us a few minutes.

  “Climb on my shoulders,” I tell her when we reach the cage.

  “There’s not enough time.”

  “Do it, fast.”

  She does as I say, scaling my body. A creature runs at me and I kick it off, while balancing Elizabeth on my back.

  “Get ahold of the top and haul yourself up.”

  She grips the metal bars and pulls. With my hands I shove her up. She makes it, but my distraction cost me time. The animals race toward me, growling.