Dark Deceit

by Lauren Dawes

  Swinging the door wide, he took in the shaking mess of the young woman standing before him. She was a classic beauty with pale hair and Aesirean blue eyes. She was wearing a heavy-looking overcoat more suited to a male than a female and her feet were bare.

  ‘Fulla?’

  Dropping into a curtsey first, she gasped, ‘Odin—’ Fulla swallowed convulsively, like whatever she wanted to say had suddenly become lodged in her throat. She shook her head and tried again. ‘Please, you must come.’

  His eyes scanned behind her. The street was quiet except for a few people ambling along in the park across the street. ‘Why? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Please,’ she cried, reaching for his hand. ‘You must come with me. It’s the queen.’

  ‘Frigg? What’s wrong with her?’

  The tears that had sat in the young woman’s eyes were suddenly streaming down her cheeks. With trembling hands, she pulled open the two sides of her coat and revealed what was underneath.

  Odin felt cold. Numb. Empty. He shifted his balance from one leg to the other, the only external sign of his uneasiness. Fulla still stood on his small stoop, her whole body shaking. Beneath the coat, her fine silk dress was drenched in blood.

  Even though he and Frigg were still married, they had not shared a kind word in nearly one hundred years. She had railed at him for his handling of the Valkyries, claiming he loved them more than he loved her. The whole idea was preposterous, of course. He loved his wife—he would until his dying breath, he suspected—but her jealousy knew no bounds.

  The question Odin already knew the answer to stuck to the back of his tongue. He tried twice to ask what he intended to before giving up.

  ‘Tell me,’ he finally said, his voice like cool steel.

  ‘The queen...is...dead.’ Her voice squeaked over the last word, washing away from her lips with a fresh wave of tears. She was shaking so badly now that her hand shot out from holding the coat together and clutched at the side of his door.

  He willed his legs to move. Taking Fulla by the wrist, he said, ‘I need to see this.’

  Odin faded to the house Frigg had demanded he buy her in the 1920s. Nothing much had changed with the outside of the building, but modern plumbing and electric had gone in when it became accessible to the humans. Fulla opened the door for him, dropping into a curtsey when he passed by her. Even at a time like this, the habit of supplication was still deeply ingrained in her.

  Not waiting for the handmaiden, Odin took the grand staircase to the upper floor and navigated his way to the master suite where Frigg would have slept.

  He had never been in there before. The room was opulent. A large French armoire took up most of the north wall while an equally impressive canopy bed took up the east. It was drenched in rich burgundy silks, a canopy of twisted material overhead, crashing down the sides in a waterfall of color.

  In the corner was a gilt three-way mirror no doubt worshiped by his wife on a daily basis. It was true she was the goddess of love, but vanity and ego nipped at her heels.

  Directly across from the bed was the door leading into the bathroom. That was the only place she could be.

  He moved with purpose, determined to see for himself his wife’s lifeless body.

  Someone—Fulla he supposed—had laid her body out on the tile. Her skin had leeched of color, but that wasn’t what drew his attention. The huge unnatural smile carved into the front of her throat did. The flesh was smooth, but gaped like a mocking grin.

  One hand was still caught on the lip of the tub like whoever had pulled her out of the water had done so hastily. He couldn’t see the inside of the tub until he got a little closer. He forced himself to look at the blood-stained water. Carefully, he dipped his finger in to test the temperate.

  ‘It’s still warm,’ he announced, thinking aloud.

  ‘Yes, All-Father.’ Fulla’s answer came from behind him. Glancing over his left shoulder, he could see her pressed against the bathroom door, refusing to come in any further. Her body shook with a fine tremor, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. The woman had never seen death before, and her devotion to Frigg was unwavering.

  ‘Who found her?’

  ‘I did,’ she whispered, her voice getting softer as she backed out of the room completely. ‘I came to tell her dinner was ready. When she didn’t reply straight away, I entered the bathroom to find her submerged.’

  ‘And you pulled her free, too?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Odin bit back bile to even consider the next question. ‘Did you leave her alone while she bathed, Fulla?’ She was still fully dressed, which certainly indicated Fulla hadn’t been with her.

  ‘I...I...’

  ‘She was not alone,’ a male voice replied from deep inside the bedroom. Odin dragged his eyes off Fulla and turned to one of her security guards. He couldn’t remember if he was Tiki or Vali.

  ‘Which one are you again?’ he demanded.

  The other man’s grey eyes clouded over with rage. ‘Tiki.’

  ‘Who was with her?’

  ‘Vali.’

  Odin’s skin began to itch. ‘Why?’

  Tiki met his gaze full on, unflinchingly. ‘Do I really need to spell that out for you?’

  Odin’s chest rose and fell with the confirmation of his wife’s infidelity. He hadn’t wanted to believe the rumors, but perhaps burying his head in the sand hadn’t been the best thing to do. He turned back around to the queen’s body and crouched beside her head.

  Frigg had always accused him of fucking his Valkyries, but he had never been unfaithful—not once. But she had. He wanted to resurrect her so he could kill her again, but even that was beyond his power.

  He cranked his head back around to Tiki. ‘Where is the bastard?’

  Odin’s skin felt like it was burning up from the inside. His fingers itched to tear skin from bone, to boil the motherfucker’s organs and feed them to his dogs. He wanted revenge. And there was nothing more dangerous than a god with revenge on his mind.

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t find him.’ Tiki’s voice was flat, irreverent.

  ‘Well find him!’ Odin roared, standing up to his full height, getting right up into the other guy’s face. He could see his glass eye glowing in the reflection of the guard’s eyes. ‘Find him and bring him to me!’

  Tiki bowed slightly and left the room. Odin squeezed his hands into tight fists, his knuckles bulging. The desire to lash out was unrestrainable. With a roar, he punched out the glass in the framed mirror. The sharp shards rained down on him, slicing shallow gouges into his skin; they healed almost instantly.

  The cacophony of shattering glass filled his ears—a tremendous reverberation echoing his outpouring of anger mingled with grief and disbelief.

  The gentle sobs finally broke through his anger. Fulla was whimpering in the corner of the room, as far away from him as she could get without physically leaving the room. She was too shaken to even remain standing. Odin was still vibrating with rage. Was it the news of her death, of seeing Frigg’s body, or learning of her infidelity that enraged him so? Perhaps it was a combination of all three that left him pissed off and ready to put down the next person who spoke out of turn to him. Nobody did this to him.

  He collapsed onto the ground beside Frigg, his smoking jacket fanning out around his body; the knees of his silk pants drawing in the moisture almost instantly. He looked at his beautiful wife, ignoring the red slash across her throat, and began to weep for all he had lost.

  He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, but when he heard the whisper of footsteps on carpet, he lifted his head slowly, feeling the true weight of his grief.

  Tiki was back—a grim look on his hard face. He looked at Odin. ‘I found him in his room, a hole blown into the back of his skull. It looks as if he killed her then killed himself.’

  Odin’s eyes travelled back to Frigg for a moment before fixing back on the other male. ‘Why? Why would he kill her?’

  ‘I don’t know
,’ Tiki replied, his voice rough. ‘Perhaps she had taken another lover and he was jealous.’

  Another lover? How many had his darling wife had? Whatever the reason, she was now dead and she had to be given the proper burial. He scooped her up in his arms, his eye level dropping so he was forced to look at her wounds.

  But it wasn’t her wounds that gave him pause.

  Gently, he repositioned Frigg’s body onto the tile and pulled a stack of towels that had been stashed under the tub out. Slowly, he pulled a bloody feather free of the pile.

  Odin’s blood ran cold. It was one of his Valkyrie’s feathers, which meant it hadn’t been Vali who had killed her.

  It was Loki.

  He stood up unsteadily, his calm demeanor melting away, his wife’s body forgotten. She was already dead, and he would be, too, if he didn’t warn Bryn.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  He killed them. He killed them all.

  And for what?

  *

  Loki’s blood was still pumping furiously through his veins, his euphoric high making his head swim. He had taken two, and now he had taken a third. He had to make a big enough statement to draw both Bryn and her Mare out into the open. He needed them to come to him. Looking at the Valkyrie laid out on his bed, he knew she would be the perfect bait.

  Using a length of rope he’d bought from a hardware store, he bound her wrists and ankles then left her on the bed to come around. He stepped into the bathroom, stripping off his blood-stained clothes and getting under the spray in the shower.

  He grinned to himself. Two kills in one night plus a kidnapping. Odin wouldn’t know what hit him. After washing away the gore, he stepped back into the room and walked over to the ash box containing the Valkyrie’s feather cloak. He was tempted to kill her right then and there, but he stayed his hand. The bigger plan had been put into motion and he needed it to run smoothly.

  Approaching the bed, he rifled through the woman’s pockets until he found her phone. Thumbing through the recently dialed numbers, he found the one he was looking for. Hitting the green button to call, he held the device to his ear.

  ‘Hello?’ Brynhildr’s voice was cautious.

  ‘Brynhildr,’ he purred. ‘Remember me?’

  There was silence on the other end for a heartbeat before her growled response came. ‘Who is this? Why are you calling from Kristy’s phone?’

  Loki laughed at her demands, brushing them aside. ‘I’m hurt you don’t remember me, Bryn. I have not been around for a while, but was recently...freed.’

  A few beats of silence were interrupted by her hissed response. ‘Loki?’

  ‘Who else?’

  There was silence on the other end of the phone, and Loki took delight in it. When Bryn finally spoke again, she sounded like she was ready to strangle someone.

  ‘Where is she?’

  Ignoring her question, he said, ‘I have killed four of your Valkyries, Brynhildr. I would have had five if your Mare hadn’t stepped in.’ More silence. Loki glanced down at the blonde-haired beauty trussed up on his bed like a suckling pig. She was still unconscious, her lush lips parted just a little. Where the needle had gone in, there was a crust of dried blood on the surface of her alabaster skin. ‘I do so wish to play with her,’ he teased, enjoying how Bryn’s breathing increased in intensity. With a chuckle, he added, ‘She’s safe as long as you cooperate.’

  ‘What.Do.You.Want?’ She bit the words out.

  So easy, he thought. ‘You, Brynhildr.’

  A low growl escaped, but the sound of it was more masculine, more animalistic and Loki knew who was listening in. He laughed. ‘Have I ruffled a few feathers?’ he asked in another purr.

  The Mare’s voice resonated with menace through the phone—not the blinding rage he had anticipated. ‘I’m going to tear you apart with my bare hands. I’m going to—’ Loki interrupted him, not wishing to hear anymore threats. ‘Got him leashed yet, Brynhildr?’ Loki mused. ‘Good. Now listen, and listen well. I have a question for you.’

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ she spat.

  ‘How much do you value your life? Would you, oh I don’t know...give it up for one of your Valkyries?’

  A trickled growl accompanied her answer. ‘Yes.’

  Loki smiled into the receiver. ‘Right answer. I propose a trade then. Your life for this Valkyrie’s.’

  ‘No!’ boomed the Mare as Bryn whispered, ‘Deal,’ into the phone. There was a loud crash in the background that faded quickly as if shut out from behind a door. ‘When? How?’

  He laughed again. ‘I’ll call again with the information you need. Bye bye.’

  Loki hung up the phone and pocketed it. Throwing his head back, he laughed. He was going to get his revenge, and he would have done it by crushing all of Odin’s beloved in the process.

  All the parts of his plan were coming together, but there was still one more blow to come for Odin.

  * * *

  Bryn hit the end call button and cursed. It had been Loki all along. She knew about what had happened between him and Odin, of course. She’d been warned to stay away from him, too. She could feel Korvain at her back and she spun around to face him, suddenly remembering what Loki had called him. Backing up a few steps, she put some distance between them. If what Loki had said was true, if he was a Mare, she hadn’t just been fantasizing about fucking one of the most feared creatures in all of the Nine Worlds, but also a creature that shouldn’t technically exist.

  ‘You aren’t going to him,’ Korvain snarled, his hands running over his short, dark hair.

  She glared at him. ‘You don’t get a say in this!’

  He was suddenly in front of her, his hands fisted tightly at his side. ‘You can’t stop me from fighting for you,’ he hissed. She looked up into his dark eyes, seeing the shadows move around in his irises. The raw power beating off his body called to a deep part of her. Hel, maybe it was just the instincts all women were born with—find a strong male to protect you. She shook her head, fighting the feelings that were developing for the male.

  ‘Is what he said true?’ She had to know. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were a Mare?’

  His expression turned antagonistic. ‘Yeah, that would have gone down real well, wouldn’t it? Or have you forgotten there’s a kill on sight order on any Mare found in the general population?’

  ‘That was a thousand years ago. There aren’t any Mares left—not really. They’re too inbred with the light elves.’

  He gave her a mocking look. ‘Thanks for the recap on the history of my species. The only reason we were hunted is because your All-Father decided he didn’t like us.’

  ‘No! The reason he hunted you was because you were hunting us!’

  He got up in her face, so close she could feel his roiling rage. ‘All we wanted was our independence.’ The words trickled out from between his clenched teeth, and Bryn took a step back from him. ‘So, now you know.’ He was across the other side of the room, wearing holes in her carpet. Bryn’s hand moved instinctively to her neck tattoo.

  She should have killed him right there and then, but when she thought about hurting him, her eyes inexplicably began to well with tears. Those tears joined an unimaginable throb in the center of her chest. The thought of hurting him...hurt her.

  ‘If you’re not going to kill me, you’re going to let me help you. And I’m going to show you why.’

  Before she could protest, he hit the light switch behind him, plunging the immediate area into darkness. The only source of light they had was from the hallway light which sent a soft golden strip through the kitchen.

  ‘Korvain, what are you doing?’ She could see him standing in front of her, his wide shoulders and muscular chest backlit.

  ‘Proving something to you,’ he growled. And then just like that, he was gone. Bryn blinked and looked around her living room.

  ‘Korvain?’ she asked, eyes still searching. She walked around the living room, checking behind the couches even though t
hat was a stupid thing to do. ‘Where are you?’

  Something hard and warm gripped her wrist and she was spun around so quickly that she lost her footing. Another tight grip was formed on her other wrist and panic bloomed. She thrashed against the invisible bonds, kicking out her legs wildly, struggling to break free.

  She looked over her shoulder toward the hallway. Eir had gone to bed hours ago, but she could still scream for her help. Bryn opened her mouth, her lungs filling with air when something was thrown over her mouth, too. A hand.

  ‘Shh.’ Korvain’s husky voice filled her ear. She could feel the heat of his body against her cheek. She blinked and he was standing in front of her again. Shadows seemed to be flowing off his shoulders like water, falling in sheets from his body.

  Her heart went from simply pounding to jackhammering in her chest. He wasn’t just a Mare. He was a Walker—an honest to gods, legendary Shadow Walker. They were believed to be completely wiped out under Odin’s orders and under Bryn’s own golden blade.

  Bryn licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. He released her arms and she took a trembling step back. She’d thought he was dangerous before. Now she knew better. He was lethal.

  He was looking at her with such intensity—like he could see deep down into her soul with those black as pitch eyes. ‘Still think I’m just a Mare?’ His voice caused her to shiver. As it caressed her skin, she felt all the sharp bits to it, like thousands of shards of crushed up glass decorated his words.

  She licked her lips again. ‘Morier,’ she whispered, fear making her breath hitch, adrenalin dumping into her bloodstream.

  He growled and Bryn’s heart kicked under her ribs, upping the tempo. ‘Are you scared of me now?’

  She thought about that for a second. She was experiencing a reaction that had been pummelled into her by Odin himself. During her time in his army, she had killed Shadow Walkers under his order, not once stopping to think about the reasons why. So was she afraid of Walkers? Yes. She had seen what they were capable of, how ruthless they were when they killed. They were the trained assassins that took out countless numbers of the Aesir in their fight for independence.