by Lauren Dawes
Everything had been going according to plan. Loki had injected the heroin into the Valkyrie’s neck. She had passed out and he was going to take her back to her apartment and search out her cloak, but that damn Mare had come along and fucked it all up.
And he was a Mare. Loki had been able to sense the power in the purity of his blood, but that made no sense. Since the Fall, Odin had hunted down all the Mares, eradicating them from the face of the Earth. Somehow, the bastard must have slipped through the cracks.
Loki looked over at the two Valkyrie bodies he already had. He had had three, but one he had given away, a gift for Odin. It was frigid down there in the tunnels, but not cold enough to stop the decomposition process.
Even now, a hint of carrion was in the air, threatening to take him back to the time when he was forced to suffer his wife’s and son’s rot and putrefaction. Crouching down, he picked up one of their feathers, blotted with blood, and twirled the calamus between his fingers—thinking.
If the Valkyries now had a guard—one of the most physically powerful, dangerous beings ever to roam the Nine Worlds—it would make his job difficult, but not impossible.
He paused, letting an idea he’d just had take shape. Yes, that could work. If he was to succeed, he needed to move not only quickly, but carefully. He only had one chance at succeeding in this new plan. Stashing the gun at the small of his back, he faded from the tunnels and onto Lime Street.
Houses lined the pavement, each of them joined with the same red-brick façade. He had passed through the street earlier on the hunt for Valkyries when he’d seen the protection rune carved into the lintel above a yellow door.
He made his way back to the house, looking it over from his position across the street. From behind the blinds, he could see the soft glow of a television radiating out of the darkness.
Loki glanced up the street, looking for any humans. It was blissfully empty and the situation just got even more perfect. There was a car parked out the front of the house. Approaching it carefully, Loki peered inside the window. With another glance, he shoved his elbow through the glass.
The alarm began blaring. He watched as the porch light switched on and the locks on the door slid open. Hiding himself in the shadows beside the entrance way, he waited for the Valkyrie to come out to inspect the damage. While her back was turned, he slid inside the house to wait for his prey.
Inside, the house was decorated in different shades of yellow, all blending together. Loki moved silently down the hallway, ducking into the darkened kitchen on the left. He heard the door close a few minutes later.
The stairs creaked. ‘What’s the damage?’ a woman asked. Loki froze. This was even better than he could have hoped for. There were two of them.
‘Broken window. I didn’t see who did it, but I’m calling the cops to report it,’ the other said.
Loki heard footsteps coming closer to his position. Glancing up, he saw a phone attached to the wall just inside the door. The Valkyrie was coming straight for him. With a smile, he reached for his knife and positioned himself.
He disappeared into the pantry, pulling the door closed behind him just in time. The light flicked on. From the crack in the door, Loki watched as she picked up the phone and punched in a few numbers.
‘Yes, hello, I’d like to report some vandalism...yeah, I’ll hold.’
Loki pushed silently out of the pantry, his eyes glued to the woman. Her back was to him, her fingers flicking through a magazine on the bench top. He was within striking distance, so when she paused on one page, he stopped breathing, holding his position.
‘Yeah, I’m here. I want to report some vandalism...yeah, someone broke the driver’s side window of my—’ The Valkyrie stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she turned around and saw Loki. He struck her quickly, driving the dagger into her stomach. She dropped to the floor, the phone popping free from her hand. Loki could hear the human on the other end.
‘Ma’am? Ma’am, you there? Ma’am?’
Loki picked up the receiver, setting it quietly back into the cradle before turning his attention to the Valkyrie bleeding out onto her kitchen floor.
Her dual-toned blue eyes were wide, both hands covering the ugly smile he’d punched into her abdomen. She sucked in a breath to scream out the other woman’s name, but changed her mind; her lips sealing shut, tears beginning to stream down her face.
‘You’re the one, aren’t you?’ she asked in a bare whisper.
Loki nodded once, crouching down in front of the Valkyrie. She whimpered and shuffled her ass backwards on the black and white checked tile, one hand still pressed to her stomach, the other smearing blood everywhere.
‘I know that wound won’t kill you,’ he told her, ‘but I do know what will kill you. Tell me where you keep your cloak.’
The woman’s eyes clouded over with rage. ‘Never,’ she spat back.
Loki pried her hand away from the slice to her belly and pressed his fingers into her flesh. ‘Tell me, or I will kill the other girl. It’s your choice: save your friend, or condemn the both of you to a slow, painful death.’
Loki could see her trying to work over her other options. The thing was, she didn’t have any. Loki was going to kill the other Valkyrie no matter the bargain. When the woman’s determined eyes returned to his face, he knew she was going to submit to him.
‘Astrid! Run!’ she screamed. Loki growled, angrily cuffing the woman across the cheek. Her head snapped back, connecting with the tiles behind her. With fluttering eyelids, the woman passed out. Loki whirled around just as the other Valkyrie—Astrid—called out.
‘Sigrun?...Sigrun, what is it?’
Palming the syringe of heroin in his pocket, Loki lunged for Astrid’s neck as she appeared in the doorway, the point sinking home. She tried to fight him off, but Loki depressed the plunger and took a step back. The Valkyrie scrambled away from him, her hand over her neck. He watched with morbid fascination as the drug hit her bloodstream, weakening her in an instant.
‘Who—’ she asked, her back hitting the wall opposite the kitchen door and slumping down onto the floor. Her long legs folded uncomfortably beneath her, consciousness slipping away.
Loki turned back to Sigrun. Her hand had fallen away from the wound. Blood stained the tiles around her, but Loki knew he didn’t have much time. To give him a little more, he pulled the phone from the wall and used the cord to bind her wrists and ankles.
Leaving the kitchen, he began his search for the ash boxes that were guaranteed to be in the house. The only rule constraining the Valkyries was the box must be in the place where they reside.
After thoroughly searching the bottom half of the house, Loki started making his way upstairs. He walked into the first bedroom, his bloody hands touching sacred items like photographs and things from their old world. He pulled open the closet and rifled through until he found the first ash box. Peering inside, the feathers looked like soft floating clouds.
With the box under his arm, Loki walked into the next bedroom and started his search. He eventually found the other box hidden under the bed and pulled it out.
Back in the kitchen, Sigrun’s blood had begun inching its way toward the doorway—a slick, glossy ribbon of color. Taking the first cloak out of its box, he ran the feathers through his hand slowly, carefully, before finally picking one and plucking it free.
Sigrun’s eyes cracked open, a cry escaping her mouth. Her legs scrambling, she tried to push her body away from him. She raised her arm to summon her sword, but found she couldn’t move. Loki grinned. She pressed herself against one of the kitchen cabinets, groaning with each shift of her body. More blood flowed from the wound in her belly, dripping off her side. Sigrun’s eyes found Astrid’s slumped body on the opposite wall and she began to cry.
Loki stripped the cloak quickly, watching Sigrun’s body writhe with each and every feather removed. When there were feathers littering the floor, and a fresh wash of blood spattered the floor, Loki took h
is dagger and drove it through the Valkyrie’s heart.
Chapter Twenty
I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!
*
Darrion faded back to the office he had set up in Dorchester and immediately picked up the phone. Korvain’s defiance was a slap in the face, and even though it killed him to do it, he couldn’t have that in his guild. Losing his best assassin had now become unavoidable.
Walkers followed the orders they were given. End of. If he showed leniency now, other guild masters would see it as a weakness and kill him for it. He had worked too damn hard to see his guild slip through his fingers.
Darrion clutched the phone to his ear, listening to the other end ringing impatiently. Finally, Adrian answered.
‘Yeah?’
‘We need to talk.’
Adrian sighed then hung up. While he waited, Darrion pulled out his throwing blades and started launching them at the target beside the door. Each knife was perfectly balanced for throwing, perfectly tuned to him. He released the first one. It sliced through the air, landing in the wooden board with a familiar thunk.
Losing Korvain was going to be hard. He was the best there was. Hel, he was even better than Darrion had been. But defiance wouldn’t be tolerated.
Death before dishonor.
Adrian knocked before he came in. Darrion threw his last knife at the target and retrieved them before barking the order for Adrian to get his ass in the room. The Mare entered the room slowly, staring at Darrion as if he was a loaded gun just waiting to go off. The funny thing was, he was right.
Darrion was wound so damn tight he could snap at any minute.
‘Sit down,’ he commanded. Adrian walked forward and sat in the chair—his back stiff, his eyes darting around. Darrion sat in his office chair, a throwing blade in one hand. He tested the tip with his fingertip, dimpling his skin.
He let Adrian sweat there for a minute before finally speaking. ‘I have a job for you.’ Darrion watched his face for a reaction, but got none. ‘A Walker on a hit right now has been compromised.’
Adrian’s green eyes were fixed on the tip of the blade sticking into Darrion’s thumb. A small bead of blood had welled, growing like a fattening tick against his skin.
Darrion could see the Mare wanted to ask who had fucked their assignment, but he wouldn’t—no matter how much he wanted to.
‘I will offer you the same terms as the other Walker had. Triple the pay and...five years off your term.’
Adrian’s eyes widened. ‘Who’s the mark?’
Darrion smiled slyly. ‘Will you take the job?’
Looking stricken, Adrian sat back in his chair, but didn’t relax. When he finally looked Darrion in the eye, a steely determination glinted back at him. ‘Give me ten off and I’ll consider it.’
Darrion’s smile faltered. The fucker wasn’t supposed to negotiate. He needed it to be him. He needed the fucking irony. ‘Five,’ he spat back.
Adrian shook his head. ‘I’ll go as low as seven.’
Darrion looked at him darkly. ‘You don’t negotiate with me. I offered you five, but now I’m not feeling so generous. You will do this job for me, and you will do it for one year off your service.’
Adrian met his cool gaze. ‘I refuse.’
Fucking Korvain. Darrion swallowed back a curse, maintaining his business face. ‘You will do this, Adrian, or I will take Taer out of the assassin program and make her the guild whore after I have had my fill of her.’
The threat worked just as he had hoped. Adrian’s eyes bulged for a second. He was trying to keep his cool. He was trying, but failing. A trickle of sweat trailed down from his temple, his nostrils flared. Darrion laughed and leaned forward in his chair.
‘If you think you’re upset now, wait till you hear who your mark is.’ Darrion sat back and smiled, pleased with how he’d tipped the situation back into his favor.
* * *
Korvain palmed his phone before it had even had the chance to ring. Hitting the call button, he held it to his ear.
‘Yeah?’
‘Korvain?’ Bryn’s voice came through on a tremble from the other end.
‘Yeah,’ he replied, his voice softening. ‘Is everything alright?’ This was becoming a habit of hers that he liked.
‘Everything is fine. I need you here,’ she said and Korvain felt his blood pressure surge.
‘Whatever you want. I’ll come now,’ he blurted out, cursing his whipped ass with every word.
He ended the call, running a hand through his skull-trimmed hair. He left the house straight away, only realizing when he faded to the club that he was still in a muscle shirt and sweats.
With a shrug, he approached the door and knocked—looking up at the camera as he did. The giant metal door clicked and he pulled it open. He took the elevator up to the living quarters on the top floor of the building, knocking on Bryn’s slightly ajar apartment door.
Pushing it open, he called, ‘Hello?’
‘We’re in here,’ Bryn called from down the hall. Korvain slid into the apartment and made his way down the hallway toward Bryn’s bedroom. Memories from the dream came flooding back to him, sending blood south. His erection made a tent of the front of his sweats and he quickly tucked the length into the waistband.
He was about to push into Bryn’s bedroom when she called out to him again. ‘Korvain, we’re in here.’ With one last lingering glance at Bryn’s bedroom, he pushed open the other door.
The Valkyrie was pulling the sheets up on a twin bed while Eir sat on the floor with a cushion hugged to her chest. Korvain’s eyes looked over the healer. Her pale blonde hair, only a few shades darker than Bryn’s, was scraped back into a high ponytail that bounced on her shoulders. There were deep purple bruises under her eyes that about a day’s worth of sleep probably wouldn’t even shift. He hadn’t noticed it last night, but there were a series of grazes up and down one arm that hadn’t been healed.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked her.
She dropped her royal blue and teal eyes to the carpet she was picking at absently. ‘Much better, thank you,’ she replied, voice barely audible. He nodded. ‘And...thank you for rescuing me,’ she tacked on just as quietly.
Korvain nodded again and looked at Bryn. ‘You wanted to see me?’
Glancing up, her cheeks flushed with a little color before she cleared her throat. ‘Yeah. Eir’s going to move in here with me for a little while until whatever this thing is passes over. I need you to take her home so she can grab a few things, but I also need you to go check on the others.’
‘Wouldn’t it be safer if I go by myself?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, it would be, but you don’t know what Eir wants from her place and the others will probably believe there’s a real threat if Eir tells them herself she has already been attacked.’
Makes sense. ‘When do you want us to go?’
‘Now.’
‘Alright.’
Eir slowly got to her feet and left Korvain and Bryn together. With the other Valkyrie gone, he felt the air thicken, his need to touch her body almost suffocating. The silence filled the void between them. When it was clear she had nothing else to say to him, Korvain turned to leave, stopping when he felt Bryn’s fingers curl around his arm. His head spun around, his nostrils flaring when the faintest hint of gardenia hit the air.
‘Shut the door,’ she said. ‘I need to speak to you for a minute.’
He kicked the thing shut. ‘What’s up?’
She dropped her eyes to the carpet, her toes digging into the pile. Gods, he had a flashback of those same toes curling into the sheets while he buried his face between her legs and made her come—before she had told him about still being a virgin. That little news flash hadn’t dampened his need to fuck her. If anything, it had made it worse. Knowing she was untouched—unclaimed—made him even hungrier for her.
He focused on her bare feet, on the toenails painted the same shade of blue as one of the rings in her eye
s. When she finally looked up at him again, she was flushed.
‘I...umm...,’ she nervously fidgeted with the end of her braid. ‘Look after my girl, alright?’
When a wave of her sweet succulent gardenia hit his nostrils again, he knew she was thinking about the dream just as he had. ‘Tell me what you were really going to say just then,’ he said gently, taking a step closer.
Her nostrils flared, but she shook her head. ‘It’s nothing.’
He growled softly, closing the distance between them. He hadn’t thought. He’d just acted. He had denied himself in the dream. He didn’t want to take her at a time where she thought it wasn’t real. He wanted her in this reality, in this plane where there would be no doubt in her mind about who she belonged to afterwards.
Taking her face in between his hands, she melted, whimpered. ‘Tell me what you were going to say.’ It was a demand. He couldn’t help it. Where she was concerned, he wanted to be that primal asshole who protected his woman.
She licked her lips, unknowingly tempting him to kiss her. ‘It’s nothing.’
‘Bullshit.’
He smiled when he heard her cursing him under her breath. ‘I was just wondering whether...’ she groaned. Her chest rose and fell with a large sigh. ‘It’s stupid.’
‘I don’t care.’
She stared at him for a moment before tilting her chin up in stubbornness. ‘Alright. I had a dream about you last night.’ A smile curved up his lips. When Bryn saw it, she added, ‘Just forget I mentioned it, alright?’ pulling away from him.
He slipped his hands onto the top of her shoulders, stopping her. ‘What was your dream about?’ he asked gently.
She was flush against his chest so when her nipples hardened, he felt them. His arousal came roaring back to life again, forcing him to angle his hips away from hers.
‘I dreamed—’
