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

by Angel Lawson

  “Hildi,” she cries, reaching out her hand.

  “The key is safe. It’s hidden, they’ll never find it,” I say, gripping the sword. It warms in my hands. “My goal was to stop this war. I’ve done that. My friends and their baby will be safe. The knowledge of how to open the gate will die with me. I can accept that.”

  “What are you saying?”

  I look up in the crowd and set my eyes on Victorine. She stands, watching me carefully, like she’s afraid to blink. Her mouth opens but can’t hear the words over the raucous crowd. My gaze shifts two people away and I see Marshal, pale and confused, leaning over the railing. Our eyes meet, and I feel a ripple run down my spine, the screech of the creatures draws me back to the fight. I grip the hilt of my sword and start slashing.

  I don’t want to die. Not like this, but I’ll do what I need to protect Elizabeth. It was my stubbornness that got us into this—my desire for a truce. Like I’ve been told, you can’t fight the gods.

  “Ah!” I cry. Sharp teeth plunge into my arm. Another slashes at my leg. Both already have wounds. I stumble, tripping over the small beasts, my back hitting the cage. I grunt and grapple for the sword, but it’s lost in a sea of fuzzy monsters. I look up into the drooling grin of an abomination, his claws digging into my stomach. Over his low growl and putrid breath I can barely hear Elizabeth call my name, or sound of my flesh tearing, or the crowd’s excitement peaking.

  This will be the first death in the arena. They smell blood. They taste my fear.

  Squwick!

  A long, shiny blade runs through the creature on top of me. A moment later it’s jerked out, and the animal falls over, dead. Standing a few feet away is Miya, holding onto his sword.

  I move to stand but pain wracks through my midsection. I press a hand to my stomach and feel the squish of warm liquid. Oh gods.

  It’s through the haze of dying that I see my allies on the field. I feel more than see my Immortals, the link ebbing between us. They’re a whirl of action, punching, fighting, plunging, killing. Soon guards swarm and everyone is caught in the thrall of battle.

  I’m unsure how long I lie there before the figure stands before me, black shroud over his head, scythe in his hand. At long last, the God of Death has come for me.

  To the side a student takes a run at me, arrow knocked at my temple. He’s stopped mid-attack with a slice of the scythe. “She’s mine.”

  The words tremble over my flesh like an earthquake and don’t stop as I’m lifted from the ground and cradled in strong, familiar arms. Wincing through pain, I reach up and push aside the shroud, seeing Agis’ handsome, anguished face. Before I can speak, the cloak falls from his shoulders and a shadow falls over the two of us.

  It’s then that I know it’s too late, that I’m already gone, and that this is a hallucination or possibly a post-death delusion. Because the shadow hovering over the two of us are the worn, leathery wings of my dream lover. The last thing I hear is the snapping flap and the rush of wind in my ears as we’re lifted off the ground and into the cold, frigid air above the academy.

  40

  Hildi

  My first thoughts are of Valhalla. The gardens. The heroes. The place for champions. I’m terrified of what I’ll find when I open my eyes. Will Odin even grant me entrance into Valhalla? The Valkyrie didn’t come for me.

  It was the God of Death.

  Pain strikes, seizing at my side, followed by icy coolness. The sensation jerks my body, including my eyes, open. I’m in a small bedroom, fire roaring in the stone fireplace against the wall. There’s a bed, a dresser, and a chair.

  Agis, the man, the Immortal, kneels by the bed, cleaning the wound on my side. With every ounce of strength I can muster, I reach for him, gripping his thick wrist.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  Soulful eyes burn into mine.

  “Infection will spread if I don’t clean and bandage it.”

  “That whole time, it was you, wasn’t it? Walking into my dreams?”

  His jaw tenses. “Those weren’t dreams.”

  Before I can respond to that bit of information, he pours icy alcohol over my side, and I writhe in pain. I’m scared to look at the injury, so I focus elsewhere, seeing that my legs and feet are bare, and that he’s already wrapped both in white, pristine cloth.

  “Gods,” I grunt, as he pokes and prods the injury. “What are you using, pins and needles?”

  “Not exactly.” He grimaces.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “This was much easier when you were asleep.” One of his large hands clamps down on my shoulder, keeping me still. “The creatures' teeth extracted when they met flesh. They’re stuck inside.”

  Bile rises in my throat and hot tears prick at my eyes. I face away as he works, the process slow and painful. Occasionally I hear the small clank of a tooth falling into a ceramic bowl and just when I think I can’t take much more, he wipes the wound once more and lays a flat bandage over it.

  A million questions run through my mind; where are we? Why did he bring me here? What’s happening back at the Academy? Where are the Immortals and why, why did he hide himself from me all those nights we were together?

  But they catch in my throat, overwhelmed by exhaustion. I drift with the sensation of him nearby. I may not know what or why Agis did what he did, but I’m certain of one thing.

  I’m safe.

  The knock at the door draws me from a groggy sleep. I shift toward the door, well, as much as I can with the aching pain throughout my body. Agis is in the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking my view of who is on the other side. He speaks in low tones and when he’s finished he shuts the door, holding a tray of food.

  “Who was that?” I ask, struggling to sit.

  He frowns at my movement. “Just someone bringing us food.”

  “This place has room service?” It’s supposed to come out sarcastic, it doesn’t. “Seriously, where the hell are we?”

  He walks over to the window and pushes aside a white curtain. There’s a garden outside, lush and green.

  “Miya’s tea house?”

  “On the property.” He drops the curtain. “The garden and kitchens will provide food and medical needs. It’s heavily warded. We should be safe while you heal.”

  We.

  I’m still struggling with this. An emotion flickers across his face—guilt, perhaps. Regret?

  He should have both.

  “There is no ‘we’, Agis. You made that clear.” Although that clarity is now anything but.

  He exhales and grabs a steaming bowl off the tray, then drags the simple wooden chair over to the side of the bed. He sits, spooning up broth. I’m surprisingly hungry, and don’t resist as he lifts the spoon to my mouth and feeds me.

  There’s a long moment of quiet as I eat, my body growing warm with every spoonful. Once the bowl is empty, he rests the spoon in the bottom and sets it back on the tray.

  “I’m sorry for not being truthful to you, but in my defense, I was trying to protect you.”

  His expression is sincere, his shoulders curved. He looks at me imploringly.

  “That sounds like a load of bullshit.” I lean back into the soft pillows. “I didn’t even think you were real. I thought you were just something I made up. Some kind of angelic sex machine.”

  “I know, and I know that complicates things. I started coming to you because you needed support.” His eyes hold mine. “You needed a release.”

  My body tingles as he speaks, thinking of our intimacy. He was so gentle. So loving. So very, very giving. I struggle to reconcile that person with the warrior before me. The one that has rejected me time after time.

  “I knew if Victorine found out about the bond between all of us, she’d do whatever she could to destroy it, but I also believed in the power we held together—”

  “Wait, you believed it the whole time?”

  “Yes.” He clenches his jaw, like he’s trying to decide if he should tell
me something. “Hildi…”

  “What are you hiding from me?”

  His eyes drop to the floor. “The bond between us…it slid into place for me a long time ago.”

  “How long?”

  He swallows, his normally warm skin turning ashen. I’ve never seen him this nervous.

  “Back at The Nead, shortly after the battle with the Morrigan.”

  My head spins. “At The Nead? But that’s before…”

  “Before we got to the Academy. Before we agreed to take on this Crusade. I knew then that you were my mate.”

  The information stuns me. If he felt a bond between us back then, it had nothing to do with the gods or finding balance or this mission we’re on. What does that mean about the others? Is what we’ve shared part of this game or is it something else?

  “I don’t have the answers to you questions,” he says, reading my mind. “I’ve been confused for months. So much so that I went to Dylan for council; he’s the one that suggested I keep it to myself, let you determine if you felt the same way. But then Christensen told you that it was part of something bigger—not exactly real—just part of winning the war, and I felt foolish.” He flexes his fist. “Jealous. I went to his office after he was gone, looking for anything that could explain what was happening.”

  “The day I found you there.”

  He nods. “I’d found a book that talked about masking your appearance—something that came easily to me due to being able to cloak myself as the God of Death.”

  “And the wings? Where did they come from?”

  “Like other abilities, they appeared when I arrived at the Academy.”

  Everything he says rocks me deep in my bones. I feel like every moment we’ve known one another is a false memory. I think of the arguments, of the physical fights, the verbal sparring. The rejection. The fact I felt unsure that what I was experiencing was even real.

  I think of the intimacy and what we shared together, desperately wanting to see the face of my winged lover and believing my mind couldn’t conjure up someone so perfect.

  The next words I speak come out in a low whisper.

  “You need to leave.”

  “Hildi—”

  “Go.”

  I turn on my side, facing the wall, fighting through the pain tearing through my side. He stands over me longer than I’d like and if I had to fight him, there’s no fucking chance I’d win. Not today. Finally, though, he picks up the tray and heads to the door.

  “One thing,” I say, while I know he’s still in the room. “Did the others know?”

  I hear his exhale. “No. Armin may have suspected, but no.”

  I feel a slight sense of relief that I haven’t been fooled by everyone.

  Again, I turn away, shutting my eyes and him out. I hear the door click closed and once I’m sure he’s gone, truly gone, I allow the tears to fall.

  I don’t see Agis again.

  Food arrives at the room while I sleep, and my bandages are changed the same way. I assume it’s the caretakers of the garden—Miya’s staff. Slowly, I heal, and after a few days I’m able to get around well enough that I walk outside for the first time. I tilt my face upward, basking in the warmth of the sun.

  Now that my mind is cleared, I can’t stop wondering what happened back at the Academy. Where are my Immortals? Elizabeth? Luke and Darius?

  That’s my regret in sending Agis away. He was a lifeline. A link. I don’t even know how to get out of this place.

  I wander over to a small pond. Water trickles down a rock fountain and fat, shiny, golden fish swim under the surface. One breaks the surface, wide mouth gaping, and quickly vanishes, darting away. When the water stills, I look at my reflection and see a second just behind me.

  Instinctively, I reach for my sword, but of course it’s not there—I’m weaponless and alone.

  “Hildi.”

  The voice rattles me, bringing up more emotion than just fear. Anger. Betrayal. Loss.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I say as I turn. Marshal stands before me. The anger flickers when I see that his clothes are torn, and his face is smeared with dirt. Or is that blood? Before he can answer he stumbles, falling to his knees. “What happened?”

  His green eyes blaze up at me—accentuated by the foliage in the garden. “Victorine got the key.”

  “What? How?"

  Fear blooms—also suspicion. I don’t trust Marshal, but there’s something else. Only one person knows where the key is hidden and there’s no way he betrayed me, which means...

  I reach for him, attempting to jerk him to his feet. “Take me back. We’ll stop her.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s too late.”

  “What do you mean it’s too late?”

  He coughs, and blood splatters across his palm. A trickle runs down his lip. “She’s opened the gate and gotten through to the temple.”

  Cold wind rustles through trees.

  “What are you saying?”

  I know the answer, but I want to hear him say it. Need to.

  “The apocalypse has begun.”

  Afterword

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