by Susan Harris
Ricky heard the tears in Zach’s voice, and Ricky took off his belt, turned around. “No Zach. The vampires can’t bring back the dead; that’s not how it works.”
“Okay.”
How the hell was he supposed to do this, be a dad?
Opening the back door, Zach slid out, waiting while Ricky closed it. He made to walk into the station, pausing when he realized the boy was not by his side. Zach chewed on his lip again, pushing his glasses back up his nose. When Ricky had asked Fionn why a shifter whose senses were meant to be 20/20 had glasses, Fionn had shrugged, telling Ricky that Sadie said the pride’s doctor explained that Zach’s eyesight in jaguar form was as good as any shifter. Yet, perhaps because of the genetic anomaly that made him half warlock, it might have affected his eyesight. The doctor had also told Sadie, before Fionn had a word with him, that this was why you needed to stick with your own species.
Ricky scooped up Zach, and he leaned his head against the curve of Ricky’s shoulder. Striding straight through the station, Ricky ignored the stares and questions as he walked right into the P.I.T office. Sarge stood with his back to them, turning around when the door closed behind them. Small hands clutched Ricky’s tee tightly, hair dropping in front of Zach’s face.
Sarge came forward as Ricky shifted his weight slightly. “Apparently, he’s a little shy.”
“That’s okay Ricky. Hello, Zach, welcome to the family.”
Zach moved the hair out of his line of sight, and scrutinized the bear, whose face softened for the first time since Ricky knew him as he looked at Zach.
“You did good, son.”
Ricky snorted. “I had nothing to do with it. Sadie was the one who raised him. I’m just the consolation prize.”
Sarge gave him a stern look, but said nothing. Ricky moved away from the door, his arms burning, with Zach still clinging like a leech. Damn, if the kid wanted to be carried around like this, he’d need to hit up the gym, for real…like lift some weights and shit.
“When are the others due in?”
“The happy couple should be here just after sunset. Melanie and Kenzie stayed in the bunker last night to give them some privacy. Those two have been as thick as thieves today in the gym. I even think Kenzie smiled a little as Melanie landed on her ass.”
The door behind him opened, and Ricky felt his stomach lurch. He’d been a dickhead to Melanie at Caitlyn and Donnie’s shindig, and now he was going to flaunt Zach in her face. His mouth dried up. She came to a halt as he turned, spotting the boy in his arms.
Some catch he was, right?
Puzzled, Melanie stepped forward and wiped a towel over her face. He knew the moment she inhaled, she would pick up the familiar scent that marked Zach as his.
Ricky cleared his throat. “Hey, Lanie, let me introduce you to Zachary Spencer Moore. Zach, this pretty lady is one of the coolest people I know.” He nudged the little boy with his elbow. “And she’s a vampire. Zach, this is Melanie.”
The little boy lifted his head and stared at Melanie. “Are you really a vampire?”
Melanie skipped over the blunt introduction and gave her best smile to Zach, and by gods, Ricky’s heart kicked a little. “Sure am, lil’ man.” Holding out her hand, she waited until Zach reached out and shook it before she leaned in with a wink. “It’s so good to meet you, Zach. Wanna come on a tour with me around the station?”
Faster than Zach had warmed to Ricky, his son all but leapt out of his arms and into Melanie’s. Ricky let out a sigh of relief, not realizing how tired he was. Melanie balanced Zach on her hip like he weighed nothing.
“I’m just gonna take Zach here to meet Kenzie, if that’s okay with you, Dad?”
It took Ricky a second to realize that Lanie was talking to him, and he flushed. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be here if you want me. Okay, Zach?”
The little boy nodded. As Melanie began to walk out, Ricky whispered very softly so that Melanie would be the only one who heard him…he hoped. “Lanie, his mom just died. And I only found out about him 36 hours ago. Thank you.”
Melanie gave him a small smile. “We’ll talk later.”
His son vanished with the girl he would never be good enough for. He heard Zack laugh, a sound so innocent and pure, and he fell in love all over again with his vampire girl.
Turning to Sarge, who watched him eagerly, Ricky rubbed the stubble on his chin.
“How in the fuck do I do this, Sarge…how do I do this?”
Ricky heard the crack in his voice and felt the tears stain his face as Sarge pulled him in for a hug. “You depend on family, son. We got you.”
Ever
Morning came around again too quickly. The broken sleep Ever had gotten did little to ease the tiredness in her bones or quell the overwhelming feeling that she was being followed. Stretching out her limbs, she groaned, pulling back the curtain and surveying the street outside. It was still rather early; the sun had barely risen. It would be another hour or so before the residence of the Wigan suburb rose, going about their weekly routine of work or school. The local school was a stone’s throw from Ever’s rented apartment.
The memories of her past lives continued to unfold, like a video reel that would not stop playing. It kept her awake at night, caused her to freeze up standing in a crowd, and she even caught herself speaking in a foreign language that she did not speak on the train to work yesterday. Her mind remembered being a Valkyrie, remembered that she had fought and died many a time. Yet, the Ever she was now felt separate from the memories that became part of her entire fibre of being.
Huffing out a breath, she pulled her knees to her chest, palming the dagger that she’d hidden under the cushion on the couch. Her other hand played with the wolf charm bracelet at her wrist, the magic contained in it giving her an electric shock. If she removed the bracelet right now, then Derek would be able to find her. As lonely as she was right now, Ever wanted to snap the bracelet in half and fall into the arms of the man she loved.
But it was more than that, wasn’t it? Derek Doyle–the man, the werewolf–the one she had fallen for was bound by a curse, meaning that their souls were linked. Ever considered that Derek had no choice but to love her, yet she hoped he saw beyond the confines of the curse. She prayed he had fallen for her because of who she was now, not what she had been.
Not bothering to change from the sweats and hoodie she’d slept in the previous night, Ever grabbed her second hand MP3 player and summoned the wavering power, disappearing from the comfort and security of her apartment, and landed smack bang in the middle of The Three Sister’s and the woods that surrounded it.
Popping the earbuds in place, Ever turned up the volume, but her supernatural hearing meant she could hear over the music. Stretching out her limbs, she checked to ensure she was alone on the path, surrounded by the shade of the trees, a light mist and fog chilling the early morning air. Without Erika to run drills with her, Ever had taken it upon herself to go for early morning runs to maintain the fitness she had begun to build up before she had opened her mouth and become Other.
Ever set off at a steady pace, inhaling the scent of the trees and earth. There was another reason she decided to run here, having stumbled by the pond and forest while out wandering the streets of Wigan. The smell reminded her of Derek’s scent, and it almost felt as if he were here, and she was surrounded by him. She knew that he would have loved this place; it was so calm and serene.
As she picked up the pace, Nothing but Thieves played in her ears and another memory hit her.
The roar of the monster made Ever want to slap her hands over her ears to protect them from the enraged beast that stalked her. Freya yelled at her to get up, to fight. Ever did not want to fight, for she was only little and the monster terrified her. Her mother’s prized Svinfylking–a boar-like creature that was actually made up of two boars bowed its head and bouldered toward her, its head lowered in a ramming manner.
Ever’s heart pounded in her chest as the beast, a master of disguis
e, morphed into a bigger and badder beasty, horns protruding from its temples, teeth bigger than glaciers, and claws that would rip a puny girl like her to shreds.
“If you do not fight like a Queen should, then you will never wear the crown!”
Freya’s fury dripped from every single word, a snarl of disappointment curling her beautiful features, marring the ethereal face that had seduced a world, even seduced Ever’s father, Odin.
All of her Valkyrie sisters were watching, studying the child that would be forced to lead them, all except the newest addition, Erika, who Ever knew had been at the receiving end of a tough-love lesson from Danae, her eldest systir.
The boar charged again as Ever stumbled back, almost tripping over the sword that lay in the sand. Ever kicked it up, felt the power in the blade as she grasped the hilt, and knew that this blade, and this blade alone, was meant to be wielded by her. Above her hand, wings of solid metal etched out from the blade, and blue gems the colour of her eyes adorned the hilt along with Norse warrior markings. The blade’s power surged through her, and Ever let loose a battle cry that sang through the trees and echoed back at her.
Charging through the sand, Ever met the beast head on, her hand striking out to slash it above the knee. She slid in the sand before getting to her feet and running the beast through from behind with the sword. The blade sang out, vibrating in her grasp as the beast’s blood drenched it. The monster roared, this time in agony, before dropping to his knees, the blood spilled not enough to sate Ever or her new blade.
Rage, white hot and directed at her mother’s prized fighter, coiled in Ever. She slashed and sliced through flesh and bone until blood sprayed her face and body, her anger leaving her in a screech. The beast moved no more, and Ever knew she had killed him. It was her first kill, and her stomach revolted as she stared down at the slain creature.
She expected Freya to be angry, but she appraised her with a look that might have been considered pride, if you did not know Freya in the slightest. Dropping the now sated blade onto the sand, Ever found herself staring at her bloodstained hands as she backed away from the body.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, as the realisation of what she had done caused silent tears to run down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
Ever did not know who she was apologizing to–the dead beast or Freya. But Ever was now a murderer, exactly what Freya had intended her to be. It was everything Ever had fought against from the moment she had been informed of her destiny.
With her entire body quivering in shock, she spun on her heels and bolted from the training sands to the sound of her mother calling her back.
Ever came back to reality when she stumbled over a large branch. It must have fallen down in the recent storms caused by her frequent lightning hops. Managing not to fall on her face, she shook off the memory, but couldn’t stop the bile creeping up her throat. Despite the early morning, she had to supress a scream of frustration. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the scent of wood and rain and breathed out.
It did little to calm the chaos in her mind, yet she glanced around to ensure no one could see her summon the lightning. When she had first spoken the words, and was struck by the bolt of lightning, it had hurt. By the gods, it had hurt like she had sucked on an electrical pole. Now, having used the lightning to spark from place to place, it felt like an extension of her body, as easy as breathing.
But damn, she wished for Erika’s ability to flash from place to place without breaking a sweat.
Flashing back to the apartment, Ever dashed into the shower and washed away the dirt and grime from her quick jog. Dressing in jeans and a checked shirt, she gathered her towel dried hair into a bun and reached for her wig. It was a dark brown shade, non-descriptive, and would not stand out. Odin’s spies were looking for a girl with sun kissed hair, so disguise was necessary. Pulling on a slate grey hoodie, she pocketed her MP3 player for the train ride and shoved some money into her pocket.
Stepping outside, Ever nodded a hello to her neighbours before descending the stone steps and plodding down the road. She walked through the housing estates with her headphones on, but the music at a bare minimum. Unable to shake the feeling that she was being watched, she glanced suspiciously over her shoulder as she strode into Garswood station and awaited the train to take her into Wigan town.
Some might say she was foolish, hiding so close to Ireland, but hiding in plain sight might work to her advantage. The train whistled as it came to a halt, and Ever gave one more look behind her as she ducked inside the doors. It took just under twenty minutes to arrive at Wigan Wallgate, but she continued to feel as if someone was on her tail.
Switching trains, she hopped onto one that would take her directly to Manchester’s Victoria station. That train journey was an agonising forty minutes of tension as she refused to sit down, eyes darting between the doors of the train and the adjoining carriages. When it finally chugged into the station, Ever fled the metal carriage and shuffled her way around the commuters.
Once outside the station, she pressed her back against the wall and waited to see if anyone suspicious followed her out. After a while, she chided herself for being so jumpy. Placing her hands in her pockets, she strode away from the bustling city centre and down a tiny narrow side street off China Town. Manchester was, Ever had come to understand, a city where you could lose yourself in the moment, yet, even an outsider like her felt as if she belonged.
It was a city that had a heart beating within the confines of its borders, and nothing and nobody could harm it, for those who called themselves Mancunians would stand together, stand strong, and face down those who threatened to disturb this wondrous city.
Ever had arrived in the city shortly after the Manchester bombings and had witnessed just how strong the community was. Perhaps, because she had been among those here, it happened to be why she felt like this. If she had been in London, Paris, or even in war-torn Syria, and saw how people reacted to attacks there, then the same could be said.
In truth, the human race had more power within themselves than any god or gods who aimed to strike them down. Maybe this was the very reason her brother, Thor, loved the Midgardians so very much.
Oh, she missed her big brother. He might not be the sharpest of the gods, but Thor never made her feel anything other than his little half-sister. Spending so much time by herself, Ever even missed Loki, just not the trouble that seemed to follow him around.
She came to a stop outside a small café, pushed open the door, and went inside. The café had only a few patrons, the early morning rush already gone, and Ever slipped into the staff cloak room and put away her few bits. Yanking the sleeves of her hoodie up, she went into the back and began to wash the dishes piled next to the sink.
“Morning, Kira.”
“Hey Stan, busy morning?”
Her boss, a small human man of about sixty, with a rounded belly and a happy face, grinned at her. “Same ole, same ole, Kira. Those millennials love their coffee.”
Ever laughed as she rinsed the dishes and set them about to dry. There would be a lull now, the clock just ticking by to nine-thirty, and Ever went outside, pulling up a chair so she could prop it against the counter. Stan paid her under the table, so she only worked a couple of hours every day, more when needed. Stan normally worked all the hours himself, since his daughter Sally was now pregnant with twins. When Ever had stumbled in, starving and drenched to the bone, Stan had given her a cup of warm coffee and a bacon sandwich, glaring at her in a way that reminded her of Tom Delany, her godfather. She had polished off the sandwich.
Then, he told her food wasn’t free and sent her into the kitchen to wash dishes.
“So, Kira…I have a friend whose son is a doctor. I think you two would make a good match.”
Ever gave him a small smile. “I’ve sworn off men, Stan. More trouble than they are worth.”
“Nonsense!” The man exclaimed, but the smile did not waver from his face. “We need a good woman, or a ma
n if that’s your cup of joe, to keep us in check. I know some of those lesbians, if that’s more you, Kira.”
Ever let loose a whoop of laughter. “Nope, but thanks for thinking of me. I’m just going to check and make sure you paid all the bills this week.”
“Sally told you I forgot to pay the electric bill? That girl should be more concerned about those two boys in her belly and forget her old man.”
Ever pressed a kiss to the man’s cheek, grinning as he blushed. “Your daughter only worries about you. I think it’s sweet. Not everyone gets to have that kind of relationship with their parents. You should cherish it.”
“Who hurt you, Kira Doyle? Your parents?”
Ever dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Let’s just say my parents are not the most affectionate in the world. Never mind me, go serve the customers and I’ll check the paperwork.”
Ever bounded up the stairs and into the small office, which gave her a glorious view of Faulkner Street and the Archway. The structure was a gift, Ever learned, from Manchester City Council. It was beautifully adorned with depictions of dragons and phoenixes. In all of her lifetimes, Ever had only come across the creatures in death, when she or one of her sister’s had escorted the souls of the slain warriors to Valhalla.
As rain trickled down the windowpane, Ever closed her eyes and imagined she stood with the sand between her toes, the sun shining down to heat her skin, and the sound of waves lapping against the shore. The vision was comforting to her, even as she waited for certain death. It was not that she hated being a Valkyrie. No. Rather, she detested being a Valkyrie Queen. Despite her earlier memory recollection, Ever understood that in war, there would be death, there would be loss, and most often, there would be suffering.
If all that Ever was in life was a Valkyrie soldier, it might have been enough for her. Yet, being a leader was not something she wanted, even if it was etched into every fibre of her being.
“Kira? Could you give me a hand, please?”
