by Susan Harris
Never Back Down
The Ever Chace Chronicles, Book 5
Susan Harris
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Never Back Down
Copyright ©2018 Susan Harris
All rights reserved.
Crimson Tree Publishing
Summary: Never. Back. Down. Since the day that she was abandoned on the shores of Valhalla, and fought her way to be the fiercest Valkyrie, Erika has lived by those three words. There has never been a challenge Erika has backed down from; apart from Loki. But when Erika embeds herself in a supernatural fight club in the hopes that she can weed out Odin's location, Erika will be put to the test.
ISBN: 978-1-63422-324-9 (paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-63422-325-6 (e-book)
Cover Design by: Marya Heidel
Typography by: Courtney Knight
Editing by: Kelly Risser
This book is dedicated to Gizmo,
The best dog I could have ever wished for.
You are loved and you are missed
xxx
Shadowed by the trees, he watched her move around the apartment. She was completely unaware that he watched her as if she were prey, studying her movements. She followed the same routine, checked her windows and doors, and then curled up on what must be a chair by the window, the glint of her knife reflecting against the moon’s light. She hardly slept, tossing and turning in a fitful sleep for the last three nights, sometimes waking to screams.
He longed to scale the shop front and slip in the window she kept open, simply to hear anything that might have tracked her down. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around his mate and affirm that she was safe, she was loved, and she was needed at home.
The rain began to hail down, thunder rumbling even as lightning streaked through the obsidian sky. It drew her to the window, her golden hair tumbling down to her shoulders, a stern look on her face. Her eyes moved in the general direction of where he watched her, yet they simply passed over him, even as the wolf held his breath, sure that his mate would sense him lurking in the shadows.
Stepping out of the light, Ever backed away from the window, and Derek shook the wet from his hair. Erika had been right when she told him to follow the lightning, for the town of Wigan in Greater-Manchester had seen the worst storms in their history, with freak lightning storms and the continuous rumble of thunder, roaring in the skies. Some thought the end of the world was coming, and perhaps it was.
The phone in his pocket vibrated. Derek slipped it out and ignored all the missed calls from Ricky, from Sarge, and just about every goddamn person in Cork, apart from the one person who had never called him to chastise, Melanie.
Derek heard the sadness in her voice as the littlest vampire spoke. “Derek, I know you have things going on, but Ricky needs your help. If you get this message… I don’t know, Derek. I think we’re losing him.”
He didn’t need Melanie’s truth-seeking abilities to hear the words ring through in his ear. Werewolves could smell a lie, hear it in a racing pulse, and notice the small tells that gave a person away. Just what the hell had happened in the days since he was gone?
Clearing everything from his phone, he punched in a number, aware that it was time to end Ever’s foolish quest to run away and save them all by throwing herself upon Odin’s sword. The phone rang twice before it was answered, but Derek had to wait until the thunder stopped rumbling to speak.
“I found her. She’s safe. I’ll be home soon.”
“Derek? Where the hell are you?”
The rumble in his boss’s voice resembled the thunder as he questioned Derek, but Derek simply pressed disconnect. Wolf in his eyes, he allowed his lips to curl up into a snarl, but bit down on the urge to howl at the moon who was his master.
Ever was depleted and could not ride the lightning for at least another week. Now was his chance to sneak up on her. He’d rip away that stupid bracelet and talk some sense into her.
It did not matter to man or wolf whether she was human or Valkyrie; Ever was his and his alone. Odin could not have her.
In the myths and legends, it was the great wolf Fenrir that brought about Odin’s end. Derek might not be the monstrous wolf; however, he was a monster, and he would enjoy ripping Odin apart for what he had done to the woman who held his heart.
Tomorrow, he would pounce.
Erika
Erika had never seen such a wondrous sight, the sandy beaches of Valhalla even more breath-taking than the pictures she had seen, the crystal-clear water lapping against the shore as sand as soft as cotton teased her bare toes. Her hand held tight in her mother’s hand, Erika peered up at the woman who had given Erika her eyes. The dark tresses flowed down her mother’s back, twisting at the nape by a golden rope. Dressed in a long, flowing gown knotted over one shoulder, leaving the other bare, her skin was almost golden, the same colour as the sand that kissed Erika’s feet.
Her mother was one of the most beautiful women in the Vanir, though she was not magical at all. When she smiled, it was as if the heavens opened up and sighed down upon them, for there had never been a more beautiful smile in all of Asgard.
A warrior woman stepped out of the trees, dressed in battle armour, the glint of the silver gauntlets catching Erika’s attention. The warrior wore a simple leather skirt and a cropped-sleeve vest top with the emblem of the Valkyrie etched just above the heart. The muscles on her stomach were pronounced, proof that Freya was more than an armpiece of the gods, but a force to be reckoned with. Freya looked at Erika as if she were an insect, and Erika felt fear course through her entire body. This woman’s features held none of her mother’s softness; Freya was battle hardened and stern. Erika felt a whimper creep up her throat, but her mother squeezed her hand tighter in reassurance.
Though she was stern, there was no denying the woman was beautiful, but beautiful in a different way to Mother. Freya, the goddess of war and death stood before Erika, assessing her. She inched closer to her mother, ignoring the intensity of Freya’s eyes on her.
“You’ve brought her later than expected.”
“I wanted a few years with her before I had to say goodbye. Her father approved it.”
Erika’s ears listened intently, because her mother rarely ever spoke of her father, and even five-year-old Erika had never heard his name uttered before. Freya walked around Erika, and Erika wanted to cry and beg her mother to take her home.
“She is small for a Valkyrie.”
“What she lacks in height, sister Freya, Erika makes up for in heart. Her father’s blood runs in her veins more so than mine ever will. She will be safe here from those that would hurt her. You will train her to be a warrior and her destiny will be more than you or I could have predicted.”
“How has she been trained thus far? I do not have time to delay the training of the others while she catches up.”
Erika did not like the tone in the warrior’s voice as she spoke to her mother, and the coiled temper that simmered below the surface of the child now bubbling over. Erika slipped her hand out of her mother’s grasp, flashed to Freya’s side, and within a matter of seconds, had the dagger Freya had sheathed at
her ankle pressing against the goddess’s femoral artery with a snarl.
She may be small, but people disregarded those whose appearance tended to deceive.
Freya smiled down at her, causing Erika to dig in the blade a little harder. Freya growled at her, yet Erika simply looked up and held the gaze of the woman who would train her to kill and become a soul sucker. To make her Valkyrie.
“She will do.”
Relief sagged in her mother’s shoulders as Erika dropped the dagger in the sand and flashed back to her mother. “Momma, I want to go home.”
Her mother dropped to her knees in the sand, her arms encircling Erika into a fierce hug. “You must be strong, my little warrior. For the destiny that you have awaiting you is bigger than my selfish need to have you with me. I will love you until the stars fail to sparkle, and the sun fails to rise. Remember, my sweet baby girl, that it is not the size of the girl in the fight, but the size of fight in the girl.”
Her mother pressed her lips to Erika’s forehead, stepping back with a final nod to Freya, before she vanished into the night, tears evident in her eyes.
“Momma! Momma! Come back! I’m sorry. I promise to be better, I promise to be good. Momma, please come back.”
Erika’s screams broke through the silence of the night as she sobbed her heart out and screamed until Freya fisted fingers into her hair and dragged her across the sand. Erika kicked and lashed out, so Freya dropped her to stand on her own two feet. The young girl launched herself at Freya, feral in her attack. Freya blocked the strikes easily, for when her temper awoke, Erika was nothing more than a ball of fury.
Exhausted, Erika sank down into the sand and allowed the tears to silently fall from her eyes onto the sand. Her momma had left her. She was alone, would always be alone.
“Come, little warrior, and meet your sisters.”
It was then Erika looked up and saw the curious eyes peeking out from behind the foliage at her. Erika didn’t want sisters; she only wanted her mother to realize she had made a mistake and come take her away from these people.
When Erika held Freya’s gaze once more, jutting out her chin in defiance, shock coursed through her when Freya laughed, a harsh sound like it had not happened in a long time. “We may just make a warrior out of you yet, little girl. There is more of your father in you then I expected. Now stop your wallowing and get up. Your training begins now.”
Freya beckoned a tall, muscular child with hair as white as ice out of the bushes, tossed a blade at Erika, and said. “The first to draw blood is the winner. No rules, only not to the death. Go.”
The blond charged at Erika, who froze for a moment before grabbing the dagger and dodging the blow that had been intended for her. Erika kicked up sand, sliding across it so that she dodged the blow as the girl slammed down what looked like a mallet into the ground. Erika used her speed to dodge the blows, reeling when the side of the mallet caught her in the stomach.
Dropping her dagger, Erika stumbled back as fire laced her belly. The next knock came to the side of her head, drawing blood that dripped down, pooling in the sand. The towering girl stood over Erika as tears threatened to overflow.
The icy haired child grinned down at Erika and said. “Welcome to the Valkyries, Systir.”
Erika looked up and into the horrified blue eyes of a young girl with hair the colour of sunshine, a hand clasped over her mouth. Her opponent smashed her foot down on Erika’s face, and she tumbled into darkness.
Erika slowly opened her eyes, grinding her teeth when the unwanted memory interrupted her meditation. Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” pounded from the speakers. Centuries old, Erika had long forgotten her mother’s name and still had no clue as to who had been the sperm donor who was her father. But the memory triggered a recollection that Freya had known all along who Erika’s father was. Maybe, just maybe, when this was all over and she was not dead, Erika would have a word with the woman who had raised her and created a bloodthirsty warrior who enjoyed revelling in blood and war.
A knock sounded at the door as Erika jumped to her feet, striding over to open it. A young girl dressed in barely there shorts and top gave her a small smile.
“You’re up next, Miss Sands.”
“Cheers, Vicki.”
The girl raced away. They were afraid of her. And so they should be.
Erika grabbed the tape on the battered dresser and proceeded to wrap her bare feet, then moved onto her hands, yanking it off with her teeth to tie it up. Bouncing back and forth on her feet, Erika rolled her neck, aware that she was not alone in the room. He’d been there for every single fight, yet the trickster god who was a major pain in her ass hadn’t so much as shown himself.
But she knew he was watching, waiting.
Yanking off her t-shirt, Erika stood in just her sports bra and shorts. The air turned hot, almost suffocating, as an invisible hand caressed her arm, then moved over the plains of her stomach. Erika remained perfectly still as another knock sounded at her door.
“Remove your hand or I will rip off your arm and beat you to death with it.”
Erika felt his breath on her neck, and the air was breathable again. Turning off the stereo, Erika could hear the cheers and jeers from the crowds in the arena below, and her pulse quickened in anticipation. Striding to the door, she gathered her hair off her face and dragged it into an untidy ponytail. A lot of her sisters kept their hair shortened. It lessened the chance an enemy could use it against them in a fight. The last person who had come near teenage Erika with a cutting shears was lucky that she had not cut off the offender’s hand for trying to take her hair from her.
Pulling the door open, Erika grinned as she strode out of the room, the sound of the crowds making her itch to draw blood. It was as if all the troubles of the last few months vanished when she was in the octagon. Erika took her frustrations out on her opponents. It mattered not if they were seven feet tall, had horns that would rip through flesh, or claws that would render her blind; she would defeat them all.
Freya had sent her on this mission, to find a Berserker, one who might lead them to Odin’s sleeping place. While it had to be Ever that took his life to break the curse, Erika could have fun cutting him up, just for fun.
Erika perched on the balcony overlooking what was affectionately called the arena, which was essentially a mixed martial arts octagon-shaped cage that pitted supernaturals against each other. The abandoned mansion used to be a house, and the entire downstairs had been gutted and opened up until the arena was born. The balcony where she stood held the richest of the rich within the supernatural community, and champagne flowed even as bets were taken. There were creatures in three-piece suits, designer dresses, and far too much gold.
Down below in the dungeon, the riff raff and degenerates heckled the fighters, baying for blood and death. Erika closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of it, only opening her eyes when the Master of Ceremonies began to speak, the din around the arena going deathly quiet.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, you are welcome to tonight’s main event, and I guarantee it will be a treat for every single one of you.”
The crowd gave an enthusiastic roar, silencing once more when the flamboyant man held up a hand. He had hair of royal blue and pointed ears, which told Erika that he probably had some Fae in him. His suit was as blue as his hair. No matter how elegant his appearance, Erika knew exactly what he was, a chaos demon, and one who relished in the chaos others created.
As if he knew she watched him, the Master of Ceremonies, Felix Grande–which totally seemed like a made-up name to Erika–glanced in her direction and gave her a grin that made the hair on the back of her neck stand to attention. Felix gave a nod of his head, and then continued on with his little speech.
“Tonight, we have two of the fiercest warriors on earth pitted against each other. There are no rules, and death is all the reward the losing competitor will receive. So, shall we begin?”
The roar almost deafened her as the music began
and Limp Bizkit’s “Break Stuff” played over the speakers. Erika grinned, approving of her opponent’s choice of music. The fury came out from the tunnel, bouncing on her feet as she punched out and back, causing Erika to roll her eyes. Furies were vicious sons of bitches, but they lacked the discipline Erika had.
Plus, what kind of little bitch walked out with two burly security guards to the cage? Erika went to the Octagon with just herself, and she was as battle hardened as Freya had been all those nights ago in the sand.
As the fury, her head shaved and talons extended, swept into the cage, the door was locked and Erika readied herself, inhaling and exhaling as her own music, “Bodies” by Drowning Pool pounded from the speakers. No matter what she thought about humans on Midgard, at least they got music right… well most of the time… Justin Bieber was still breathing.
“And now the woman you have all been waiting for. The stuff of myths and legends. Carrier of souls and decider of fates. She will distract you with her beauty as she rips your soul from your body, and you will only smile. Ladies, gentlemen, I give you to the only female to suffer no losses in her last fifteen fights, ten knock outs, three deaths, and two submissions. I present to you, the Valkyrie.”
A hush descended over the spectators as Erika eased herself up onto the balcony, all eyes on the cage below as she dropped off the two-storey height with ease and landed deftly on the top of the cage, her feet balancing on the ledge as the fury hissed in her direction. Face a mask, Erika back flipped, landing with grace in the centre of the cage.
She refused to flinch as she heard them question if she really was a Valkyrie. The commentary continued. She was too small, too curvy to be any kind of warrior. Those were the fools who had not seen her fight before, who had come tonight for the first time to behold the bloodthirsty warrior everyone was whispering about.
