Dark Deceit

by Lauren Dawes

  His dark eyes fell to the desk, the corners of his mouth curling slightly. ‘I’ll leave you to it then.’

  * * *

  Korvain stepped out of the office, pocketing the three hundred he’d earned, and turned toward the exit. Even though Adrian had told him he couldn’t fade into the building, Korvain had still tried. If the protection was anything like what they had on their place, he could have breached it. It wasn’t until he’d made it inside that he’d understood why. There were runes painted on the walls passing off as pieces of décor, but although the pattern seemed random, it was a very powerful ancient verse meant to protect the building from unwelcome visitors fading in and out.

  As he reached the door, one of the other bouncers, the one who had seen him into the office when he’d first arrived, stepped in front of him.

  The male was human—as most of the bouncers were in the place. He crossed his muscular arms across his barrel chest, his hazel eyes narrowing on his face. ‘Is she allowing you back?’ he asked, his deep voice rumbling with an unspoken threat.

  Korvain stared down at him, forcing the other male to crane his neck back to maintain eye contact. ‘Who wants to know?’

  ‘I’m her head of security. I want to know if I can trust you, trust you to have my back if shit went south.’

  Korvain’s dark eyes looked over the male. Not even a hint of fear. ‘Yeah, I got your back,’ he replied after enough silence filled the space between them.

  The other male relaxed visibly, his shoulders drooping, the bravado draining from his hazel eyes. ‘Good.’ He offered Korvain his palm. ‘I’m Mason.’

  ‘Korvain.’

  He frowned.

  ‘Yeah, I know it sounds weird to you. I had parents with a strange fucking sense of humor.’ Korvain laughed to ease the other man. Mason laughed, too.

  ‘Does it mean something?’

  ‘Korvain? No.’ Korvain brushed off the lie with a tight-lipped smile.

  ‘Look, I’ve got to get home and see Sophie. I hope you can make it back here. I heard you handled yourself real well up there.’ Mason turned and left him in the dimly-lit hallway.

  Korvain didn’t mix with humans, but when he did it was never well...except for this male it seemed. Ducking left, he pushed down on the metal bar across the door and stepped into the cool night. The door slammed shut behind him and he faded back to the house he shared with Adrian and his sister.

  The front door was unlocked when he arrived on the front step. With the door shut behind him, Adrian’s voice carried down the hallway.

  ‘My brother. You hungry?’

  ‘Yeah. I could eat,’ Korvain called back, locking the door at his back. Fading into the house would have been so much easier, but it was a safety issue they didn’t want to handle.

  Above the door, they had a protection rune carved into the wood to prevent any unwanted visitors. The premise was the same as the runes used in the club, just more rudimentary—less powerful. It prevented people from fading in, but it wouldn’t stop everyone.

  When Korvain rounded the corner, Adrian had somehow crammed his body into an apron that was straining across his chest, the slogan ‘Kiss the Cook’ distorted over his wide pectorals.

  ‘That’s a good look for you, Ad. I’m sure you’ll make someone a very nice wife someday.’

  His best friend barked a laugh and threw a dish towel at him. ‘Did you remember to pick up some milk, sweetie?’ he asked in a falsetto voice, laughing again.

  ‘What are you making?’ Korvain asked still chuckling, parking it on one of the stools under the breakfast bar.

  ‘Just reheating what Taer made for us earlier.’

  Korvain smiled. ‘She’s a good kid.’

  ‘Yeah, but don’t let her hear you calling her that.’

  Adrian spooned some pasta onto a plate for Korvain and grabbed him a fork. ‘What happened to the dealer you caught?’

  Korvain chewed slowly, swallowing before answering. ‘Cops hauled his ass away.’

  Ad whistled through his teeth. ‘No shit, eh? I thought he would have squealed after Bryn put the pressure on him.’

  Korvain shrugged.

  ‘So did Bryn ask you to come back in again?’

  Korvain shook his head, loading another mouthful of pasta onto his fork. ‘She said she’d call me in if she needed help again, but didn’t say when.’

  ‘Well, if Winta is a no-show again, I’ll make sure she calls you in to cover. I’ve never seen the men behave so well before, with the exception of that cocksucker with the wandering hands and the drugs. You scared the shit out of them.’

  ‘I have a habit of doing that,’ he replied in a steady drawl, smiling.

  Adrian laughed out loud, but somehow managed to keep on shovelling in the food at the same time.

  When his plate was scraped clean, Korvain took it to the sink to rinse and placed it in the dishwasher. ‘I’m beat. I’ll see you tomorrow sometime.’

  The two clapped palms and Korvain dragged his ass upstairs to disarm and clean up.

  He stripped his body of weapons, the twin Sig Saurs under his arms going straight into the safe in his closet. His blades and the garrotte he always carried went into another locked chest.

  He never worried about concealing his arsenal with clothing. He could cover them all with the shadows he called to himself, hiding the tell-tale bulges and outlines.

  He stripped off his clothes then padded barefoot into the bathroom, twisting on the taps in the shower. The hot water quickly filled the room with steam. Korvain dragged deep lungfuls of the stuff in through his nose, shaking off the tension in his shoulders and back.

  Tonight had been good. He’d gotten into the club and managed to make Bryn trust him by pulling the sniffer dog routine. Tipping his head back, he let the spray soak through his hair; the water’s scalding fingers running down his face and along his neck. Alone with his thoughts, he ran through the plan once more.

  He’d already known the layout of the club from Adrian before he got the invite, so no other recon was completely necessary. Plus he’d made contact with Bryn and managed to gain her trust. That hadn’t been part of the plan—just a bonus. If things continued on the way they were, he would have her blood on his hands and ten years off his contract sooner than he’d anticipated. He grinned, knowing how sweet that was going to be.

  Korvain turned off the water and stepped out onto the white tile, wrapping a towel around his waist while another went through his wet hair. Dumping the smaller towel, he wandered out into his bedroom, letting his skin dry in the air.

  Pulling on a pair of sweats, he left his chest bare and stretched out on top of the sheets. He relaxed his body, closing his eyes, and thought about Bryn. In his mind, he saw her dual-toned eyes, her alabaster skin. He smelled the shampoo she used, the scent of her skin.

  He thought she’d be in her office still, having fallen asleep while doing that oh so important paperwork, but when he entered her dream, her body was tangled up in the sheets of her bed as if she’d been unsettled before finally drifting off.

  Bryn’s lean legs were splayed, the sheets pooling in the depression between her thighs. The long expanse of her naked skin held his attention for longer than it should have. His body stirred at the thought of what was being hidden from him.

  Forcing his eyes to keep moving, they trailed up her lean body to her face. Her braid had been taken out, her honey-blonde hair—kinked from being restrained all day—was fanned out on her pillow; a halo of gold.

  Korvain approached her slowly, his bare feet soundless on the thick-piled carpet. He was still a few feet from her bed, but he could smell that fresh sweet smell of gardenia on her skin.

  Her deep, even breaths filled the air. He paced his with hers, drawing in deeply, filling his lungs with that sweet temptation.

  Bryn’s eyes began to flutter open. She inhaled deeply, her eyes cracking wider as she had no doubt caught his scent. He knew the exact moment when she realized she wasn�
�t alone. Her whole body became rigid, her hand getting closer to her neck, but not yet touching the tattoo.

  ‘Who’s there?’ she asked, eyes darting around the darkness. He remained silent. Watching her hauntingly beautiful eyes pierced something inside of him, some long forgotten part of himself. ‘Korvain?’ she asked, her voice soft, cracking just a little.

  He remained where he was. Frowning, she ran a hand through her long hair and lay back down again, forcing her body to relax.

  Sleep. His command was whispered directly into her subconscious. Bryn obeyed, her eyelids drooping slowly, her breathing levelling out. He had done enough. She would wake up wondering whether his visit to her had been real, whether he had actually been in her room.

  The answer was both yes and no. The dream realm was real when he was the one manipulating it. She would remember the encounter, but still try to pass it off as a side effect of an overactive imagination.

  Korvain left her to sleep’s drugging influence and opened his eyes in his room once more. Rolling his head to one side, he looked at the little neon numbers staring back at him patiently from the bedside table. It was almost five in the morning. With a groan, he flipped over onto his other side and went to sleep.

  Chapter Seven

  Odin paced his house in Beacon Hill, the slap of his Tom Ford loafers hitting the dark marble like a hammer against his skull. The news he’d just received had left him in a damned cold sweat.

  Only two of the three Norns had answered his summons. Odin had been taking their council since the beginning of time. They knew all that has been, all that is and all that will be.

  ‘You’re sure?’ He had directed his question to Skuld, one of the females that continued to remind him of his limitations as an immortal.

  ‘Be in no doubt about what we saw, All-Father,’ she replied meekly. ‘Loki has broken free of his bonds.’ Skuld fingered the ash tree pendant at her throat as she spoke, the nervous gesture not going unnoticed. Her hair shone like burnished copper, falling down her back in glossy sheets while her green eyes glowed softly from beneath her heavy mahogany fringe.

  ‘That’s impossible,’ he snarled back, dragging a hand through his hair then loosening his tie when that wasn’t enough to still his nerves. Unbuttoning the top button of his jacket, he added, ‘The only way he could have broken free was if someone set him free. Those bonds were unbreakable, and that snake...’ He had breathed his own immortality into that snake. ‘That snake...’ he faltered again. He hadn’t been able to see through the snake’s eyes—to know its thoughts—in about a week. He hadn’t wanted to consider what it had meant at the time, but now...now there was no doubt in his mind.

  Skuld’s sister touched her arm and sat forward, poised to add her two cents to the conversation. ‘It would be advisable—’ Odin shot Verdandi a dark look. Her choice of words was no accident. She sighed. ‘You may need to take some measures to protect yourself, Odin.’ Where her sister had fiery auburn hair, Verdandi’s was pale. It was bound tightly to the back of her skull, stretching the skin across her forehead tight.

  ‘You think I don’t know that?’ he replied. ‘If you’re going to advise me, at least give me something more helpful than that.’ The savagery in his voice was beginning to surface, to morph into all-out rage. Taking a few moments, he let the rage melt and drip away. The woman’s eyes darted between his real green eye and the obsidian glass sitting in his right socket. Her eyes caught on the black orb, her throat working past the lump that had caught there.

  Odin paced a tight line, cutting backwards and forwards along his oriental. His immediate thoughts were he might have the advantage given it would take Loki a while to find him, but presumptions were dangerous things.

  At the height of his power, Odin wouldn’t have cowered at the threat of anyone, but times had changed. Since the Fall, the gods and goddesses of the Nine Worlds had spread far and wide. The gods didn’t wield the same powers anymore—the Aesir weren’t as feared as they had once been, and since losing his Valkyries, Odin knew he had become somewhat of a joke.

  He had to find Loki before he could find him. Yes, Loki would be lost in this new world—friendless, knowledgeless, powerless. It shouldn’t be too difficult to locate him.

  ‘That would take time, Odin. Time you don’t have.’

  He ignored the woman’s warning. ‘I could send out

  my spies,’ he announced, thinking out loud.

  Verdandi cleared her throat delicately. ‘There is no one who would stand by you now.’

  The truth of her words stung, wounding him. ‘Don’t presume anything,’ he replied, letting her see his real rage for the first time.

  ‘Perhaps there is a better way?’ Skuld said softly, drawing Odin’s attention away from her sister. Odin looked over at the woman and cocked an arrogant brow.

  ‘Pray, tell, what is that better way?’

  Skuld’s eyes dropped to the hands in her lap. ‘Might I be so bold as to suggest you look to reconcile with Brynhildr? That is who Loki will ultimately look for.’

  Odin squeezed his eyes shut tightly. Of course Loki would be coming for her. She was his only weakness—even before she became his Valkyrie.

  Odin had been walking among the humans on Midgard when he happened upon a small village by the seaside. He was watching the humans as they toiled in the sun, sweat beading off their brows. They were cleaning the nets they had used to catch fish that morning, removing tufts of seagrass and other debris. Their knives cut through the weeds, often catching a man’s fingers as he worked. Odin wondered idly what it would be like to work like that, to sweat and bleed so you could feed your family.

  He was watching one man in particular. His great broad shoulders were wider than any other man’s, his arms and chest dotted with scars. His face was stern, his blue eyes cold. Odin recognized what he really was. He was a warrior unable to die an honorable death, too old to live and die by the sword.

  ‘Fadir!’ a young girl called. The man looked up, the harsh lines of his face melting away as he looked at the young girl running toward him. She couldn’t have been any older than twelve. Her blonde hair was the color of the noon sun, her eyes the exact same shade as her father’s.

  The man scooped her up in his arms, hugging her tightly. The girl’s slim arms wound around his huge neck, squeezing.

  ‘Brynhildr, what are you doing here?’ he asked. ‘Your mother would be furious to know you have left the house.’

  The girl’s wide smile turned into a frown. ‘She’s making me sew hides for the winter. I hate sewing,’ she replied, exaggerating her words by pulling a face.

  The young girl’s father laughed at her, tapping the end of her nose playfully. ‘You may hate it, but you’ll be thankful for those hides come winter.’

  ‘Odin?’

  The All-Father shook his head slowly, shrugging off the memories. ‘Brynhildr will not speak to me.’

  * * *

  Loki blinked rapidly, his lids flapping around like they’d gone into spasm. It was so bright, and he hadn’t even reached the mouth of the cavern yet. He had been picking his way over the surface of the cave for an immeasurable amount of time, his bare feet bleeding profusely; a wake of crimson smears trailing behind him.

  Loki shielded his eyes with a blood-stained hand and grunted as another sharp shard of limestone bit into his heel. He propped himself up against the cool wall for a moment, collecting his breath and his thoughts.

  ‘The caves will be closing in five minutes, folks. Five minutes,’ a disembodied voice announced.

  Loki jerked upright, sliding into a cool shadow along the cave wall before he could be seen. When he thought it was safe, he peered around the corner and saw a man standing at the bottom of a long trail. He was wearing a long-sleeved grey shirt with dark green pants. On his head was a large, wide-brimmed hat.

  The man began walking up the track, herding the other humans with him. Loki forced his body to move, to give him just a little more. He covere
d the small distance at a hobble. Clambering over the smooth boulders at the foot of the walkway, he climbed over the rocky divide, rolling onto the pathway that had been filled with people no more than five minutes before.

  He lay there for a minute, letting the cold seep into his skin, letting the knowledge that the world as he had known it was now gone. He knew when he walked out of the mouth of his prison, he would be facing his new future.

  Climbing to his feet slowly, he climbed the snaking walkway out of the cave, clinging to the railings while his legs struggled with atrophy. Loki finally emerged, staggering around in the dying light, drawing in deep breaths of fresh, clean air.

  His watering eyes surveyed the landscape around him. He was still in a depression in the earth, the cloying sensation of claustrophobia digging its fingers into the back of his neck. Above him, all he could see was a great expanse of pale blue sky and many steps bearing down on him, blocking his path. The air he drew into his lungs was hot and dry.

  Oh, how the world had changed.

  After testing the steps, he found them to be built strong. It took him a long time to climb them, the process exhausting his already weakened body. With shaking legs, he finally made it to the top and slumped down to rest for a moment when the sound of heavy footsteps approached.

  Too tired to care, Loki stayed where he was—head bowed, breathing labored, the weight of the new world upon his shoulders.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, but the caves are closed up for the night. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’

  Loki squinted at the man, but said nothing.

  The man put his hands on his hips, looking exasperated. ‘Sir, did you hear what I said? I’m going to have to ask you to move along.’

  Loki licked his lips. ‘I don’t know where I am,’ he said, his throat feeling as if he’d swallowed nails.

  The man’s eyes drifted down to Loki’s chest. Loki had put his dead son’s clothes on his naked body, the cave preserving them somehow. They were torn and stained, but at least they covered his nakedness. Loki put his arms across his chest protectively.