Valkyrie's Vengeance: Book 1 (Loki's Wolves)

by Melissa Snark

  In a matter of seconds, Daniel died in her arms. Wicked laughter danced around her, and she registered the macabre visage of a vampire. With a distant shock, she realized the barbed tentacle of flesh that had killed her lover was the thing's tongue.

  A twisted alien thought filled her mind. His death is your fault.

  "Yes." Victoria blinked back tears. She vividly recalled that monster's fucking tongue and how desperately she wished for a do-over. Given the opportunity, she would rip it out by the root.

  The devil in her mind giggled. You failed to protect him.

  Her wolf rumbled in anger. Victoria closed her eyes and then opened them again. The world around her flickered, and the krampus's beastly visage returned.

  "Show me his death again." A thick ruby tongue snaked from the corner of his mouth and approached her face with a sinuous motion. The tip slapped against her cheek and licked toward her mouth. A trail of hot saliva trickled down her face.

  A furious growl rumbled deep in her throat. She jerked her head to the side and allowed her wolf its freedom. The transformation burst over her with excruciating swiftness. Stretching her skin taut, the bones of her face distended and pushed into an elongated muzzle.

  Snapping jaws, glistening canines.

  In a blink, she caught the krampus's tongue between her teeth and bit clean through the offending appendage. Hot blood filled her mouth, and she swallowed the chunk of flesh whole. The meal hit her empty stomach as welcome warmth. Her sides clenched. She craved more.

  Howling in agony, the krampus thrust her away. His bleeding tongue whipped back into his mouth, and his hand flew to cover the injury. She clung, digging her claws deep into his muscular arms and leaving bloody rents. Her jaws closed on his shoulder. He tasted like goat too. Salivating, she ripped another chunk of meat free and swallowed it whole. The arm meat was too sinewy, but she didn't mind. Goodness hit her stomach. Her first decent meal in a week.

  She could acquire a taste for goat meat.

  Backing away, he dragged her across the room. Victoria continued her transformation into a wolf, acquiring both height and weight. Bones broke and reformed. Her entire body underwent painful contortions as her torso and limbs lengthened and thickened. Her clothing stretched and then split. Her feet tore through her shoes. The remnants of fabric fell away, leaving her covered in snow-white fur.

  In their cages, the children shrieked and sobbed in terror. She regretted frightening them further, but it couldn't be helped. She halted the change midway. Her bipedal form resembled the classic movie wolfman. The shape allowed her to use her wolf's strength and natural weaponry. She also retained the use of her hands and rudimentary speech.

  The krampus stared at her in open astonishment. "What are you?"

  Victoria smiled, displaying all her glistening white teeth. Saliva dripped from the tips. "The big bad wolf, come to gobble you up, Billy Goat Gruff."

  A girl's scream rent the air. Her instincts to protect the youngsters kicked in, and she reflexively turned toward the sound. The fight had brought them perilously close to the cages, putting the children in peril. Bracing, she tugged on the devil and attempted to drag him away from the cages. He outweighed her by a lot, so she only moved him a few feet.

  Bellowing, the krampus snarled and raked her, sharp nails gouging her arm. Despite her transformation, he was several feet taller than her. Taking advantage of the difference, he yanked her off her feet. He swung her around and slammed her into the closest wall.

  Her side took the brunt of the brutal impact. Ribs snapped. The searing pain weakened her grip enough to allow the krampus to rip free. Grasping her leg, he hefted her overhead and spun her before letting go. Her shoulders and upper back collided with a wall of shelves. Victoria crashed to the floor amidst falling boxes and containers and lay in a stunned heap. A fog of pain enveloped her head.

  A hoof rang on concrete. It struck once. Twice.

  Victoria twisted and looked up just as the krampus lowered his head, preparing to charge. Those wicked-looking horns aimed straight at her. A startled oh-shit yelp escaped her. Adrenaline surging, she ignored her body's pained protest and rolled upright. Crouched on all fours, she readied to dodge.

  His breath heaved with the power of a train engine, and the krampus charged straight at her. His hooves clattered like thunder, reverberating in the small room. Victoria waited until the last possible second and then stepped aside with a deft twist.

  As she darted past, Victoria delivered a quick bite to his hindquarters. She aimed for his hamstrings, hoping to cripple him. She missed the vital tendons. Instead, her mouth closed on his hock and ripped a hunk free. Her mouth filled with raw flesh and hot blood. The thigh meat was tastier than his arms, rich but gamey. She swallowed the mouthful in a single gulp and went back for another bite, only to discover he'd already passed her. Her jaws closed on empty air.

  Running at full speed, the krampus slammed into the same wall she had struck a minute before. The remaining intact shelves came crashing down. Remarkably, he remained upright, although the collision clearly disoriented him.

  A burst of excited snarls and barks escaped her throat. Victoria leapt straight up and landed upon the devil's trunk. Her snapping jaws drove toward his throat. While he rose, she secured a bite hold and sank her teeth into the heavily-muscled flesh about his jugular. She pressed her body against his chest. Determined to hang on, she wrapped her limbs about his barrel torso and dug into his back with her claws.

  The krampus roared and charged into another set of shelves. More debris rained about them. Clinging close, she nimbly avoided another blow. His failure to dislodge her added fervor to his escape attempts. They ran and twisted, colliding with pallets and knocking over a drum. Black fluid spilled everywhere, coating the floor. The moans and sobs of the imprisoned children edged her awareness. The entire time, her jaws remained locked on his throat, constricting his air supply. Inevitably, strangulation would weaken him enough so she could deal the death blow.

  Panting for breath, the krampus ground to a halt and collapsed onto his knees. Victoria’s feet finally touched the ground again. In a final act of desperation, he turned his great strength against her. His wickedly sharp nails raked her back. Her head swam with pain, and red clouded her vision.

  The krampus sought softer flesh and positioned his hands just below her ribcage. He dug in with his nails, attempting to disembowel her. In self-defense, Victoria loosened her hold on his chest and blocked him with her elbows. She braced in anticipation of the crippling pain of a gut injury. Her jaws remained locked on his throat. She hung on with pit bull determination.

  She'd sooner die than let go.

  CHAPTER TEN

  "They're over here!" a man's voice shouted. Heavy footsteps pounded, announcing their approach.

  The hunters had arrived.

  A distant note of hope edged her awareness, but it was far too soon to relax. Locked in a contest of pure strength versus strength, Victoria wrestled with the krampus,. She strained to gain the upper hand, but the beast was stronger than her. The exertion wrung a pained groan from the she-wolf. Her muscles burned, and her injuries ached.

  When Jake Barrett and Skinner entered the area, relief flooded her. She'd never been so damn happy to see an enemy in her entire life.

  "Victoria, let go on my mark," Jake ordered with the authority of a man accustomed to being obeyed. Hefting a heavy chain, the hunter attacked the krampus from the rear. He dropped the length over the beast's head.

  At the same moment, Victoria opened her jaws and dropped to the floor. She landed flat on her back. Momentarily freed, the krampus swallowed a huge draught of fresh air. He lurched, and one of his hooves struck her elbow. A painful jolt shot through the joint.

  The hunter secured another loop of chain about the beast's throat. Strangled again, the krampus bucked, trying to throw Jake from his back.

  Growling, Victoria rolled away to avoid being trampled. Over the krampus's head, she shot Jake
a nasty glare. "You're late."

  The Hunter King's grimace bore a powerful resemblance to a grin. The muscles in his arms and shoulders bulged as he hauled back on the chains. The dagger tattoo on his forearm glowed red hot, pulsating as though impatient to taste blood.

  She couldn't understand why he hadn't drawn it.

  "You started without me," Jake said.

  "I got bored." Victoria circled the krampus, watching for an opening. The chain pricked her curiosity. She wondered why they were trying to capture it. Why hadn't they just killed it?

  Taking up the slack in the chain, Jake tossed one end to Skinner. Working together, the men tightened the noose taut about the krampus's throat. Bellowing his rage, the krampus surged to his feet with renewed resistance.

  "Over the pipes!" Jake tossed his length of chain into the air and over the exposed piping mounted to the ceiling. As soon as the ligature dropped, he grabbed the end and applied his entire weight as an anchor.

  "Got it!" Skinner heaved his end of the chain toward the ceiling, but his throw fell short. His side of the restraint went slack.

  Head lowered, the krampus swung toward Skinner. His horn caught the human in the shoulder. The pointed end punched clean through, and the tip appeared out the hunter's back. A terrible shout tore from him, and he grabbed the horn at the base with both hands.

  Jake hauled the chain in an attempt to control the beast. For a second, the additional leverage allowed him to restrain the krampus on his own. Then the chain links slid on the pipe, and the loose end rose.

  The krampus reared to his full height, hefting the injured hunter on his horn. A shake of his massive head sent Skinner careening through the air. The thrown man smacked into the far wall and slid to the floor.

  "Skinner!" Jake circled, attempting to reach his friend's side, but the krampus stood between them. At long last, the Hunter King drew his magical dagger. The tattoo weapon vanished from his forearm and appeared in his hand.

  Unwilling to be left out of the fight, Victoria flanked the krampus's other side, seeking an opening. With that weapon in Jake's hand, she preferred not to get too close. The damn thing sent shivers down her spine. Legend said the weapon couldn't be sheathed until Jake had taken a life.

  She'd asked Daniel about it once. He’d laughed. "I asked the same thing when I was six. All dad did was smile."

  Twisting and shoving, the beast shrugged off the chain about his neck. Lowering his head, the krampus brandished his horns and stomped his hooves. He menaced another charge. Hot breath flew from flared nostrils. Blood soaked the wiry black hair of his massive chest and hock where she'd bitten. Despite the injuries, the creature presented a formidable threat.

  She wanted to kill the krampus so bad she could taste it.

  Roaring, she rushed toward him. The krampus swung toward her voice. She took three running steps and leapt straight at the beast's head. With both hands, she caught hold of his horns and used her strength to force his head down.

  Snorting, the krampus jerked away from her. His back hit the wall, and for once the close quarters worked to her advantage. While the beast thrashed from side to side, she held on for all she was worth. One of his horns was slick with blood, making it difficult to keep a good grip. A steady snarl reverberated in her throat, escaping in bursts as she panted for breath.

  Jake rushed in, his burning dagger held aloft.

  "Kill it." Victoria grated from the side of her mouth. She pulled on his horns to straighten his neck and strove to hold him steady.

  "With pleasure." Jake brought the knife overhead in a wide arc. The molten blade struck the back of the devil's neck and cleaved through the spine. The blow severed the backbone, exposing muscle and bone, but failed to decapitate the beast. Blood poured from the wound. The sound of sizzling accompanied the odor of burnt flesh.

  Caught in his death throes, the krampus wailed and lurched to the side. Victoria kept him upright. The scent of fresh meat flooded her nostrils, tempting her wolf. Her mouth watered, and hunger clawed at her sides. Through an act of will, she quashed the impulse to fall on the drying beast and gorge.

  Jake grunted and yanked his blade free of the beast's back. When he swung the knife again, an arc of blood sprayed from the blade. The weapon hit straight on the mark and sliced clean through the krampus's neck. The body dropped to the floor, leaving Victoria holding the head by the horns. A fountain of blood flowed from the body, forming a puddle. The dark red fluid saturated the white fur of her feet.

  Tilting her head, Victoria looked down into the krampus's face. Red-rimmed eyes bright with malice stared up at her and then dimmed to black coals. Her mouth curled into a sneer of disgust. She opened her hands and drop-kicked the head, sending it flying across the room.

  Abruptly, her awareness of her injuries hit her like a freight train. Panting, she dropped to a crouch and sat on her heels. Oh, how she hurt. Even with her accelerated healing, it promised to be hours before she felt one-hundred percent again.

  Gritting her teeth, she initiated the painful change from her half-wolf form to human. Her face and hands returned to normal first, then the rest of her followed. Her fur retracted into her flesh. Bones snapped and knit. Transformation sped her healing, repairing some but not all the damage.

  Fully human, she knelt naked in the pool of krampus blood. She looked up and found Jake Barrett standing over her, the burning dagger poised. As their gazes met, his hand clenched about the hilt. Muscles rippled beneath his scarred skin and traveled the length of his arm. In that moment, she fully expected the blade to descend and take her head.

  Daniel had inherited his brown eyes from his father. Jake’s had crow's feet at the corners, and his soul was infinitely more cynical. His face set in a stoic mask, but his discipline had cracks. She read the hesitation, the temptation, as he wrestled with the instinct to kill her.

  "You're not afraid of death," Jake said.

  "No, why should I be? My soul belongs to Freya." Victoria's first death had been the result of combat, in service to her goddess, who had returned her to life to serve as Valkyrie.

  A tug pulled on the corner of his mouth. Those ferocious eyes burned. "You should be afraid of me."

  "Oh, I am." The man terrified her, but she refused to be cowed. She tilted her head to the side, exposing her throat. Her tone turned taunting and provocative. "Kill me and you'll never have your answers about how Daniel died."

  Suffering distorted Jake's face, and his mouth contorted into a grimace. "Our deal stands. On your honor."

  "On my honor." Victoria agreed without hesitation. "When Jasper and my pack go free, I'll surrender my life to you."

  "I asked for answers," he said sourly. A severe expression replaced his agony, and he gave a curt nod. The burning dagger vanished from his hand. The tattoo appeared on his arm. "Agreed."

  His choice of words gave her the faintest hope. Maybe he'd actually allow her to explain about Daniel's death. At the same time, she rejected the possibility. Listening and granting clemency were two separate things. How could she ask Jake Barrett to show her mercy when she couldn't forgive herself?

  Victoria straightened and stepped out of the puddle. Her bare feet left bloody tracks on the concrete. Her nudity caused her no shame or embarrassment. Few shifters were shy.

  Jake averted his eyes. Without a word, he removed his shirt and tossed it to her. "Here."

  Swallowing a snicker, Victoria caught the garment out of the air and pulled it over her head. The cloth was damp with perspiration and smelled like Jake Barrett. The hem hung past her knees, but it was better than nothing.

  Across the room, Skinner moaned.

  Victoria and Jake turned in unison toward the injured man. The fallen hunter struggled to sit upright. Sweat glistened on his brown skin, and blood stained the front of his torn shirt.

  Jake rushed to his friend, dropped to one knee, and placed a hand on Skinner's uninjured shoulder. "You're injured."

  Grunting, Skinner persisted. "No
shit, Sherlock."

  "This ain't the time. Stay down." Leaning over, Jake made his point by pinning the injured man.

  Skinner offered brief, fierce resistance. Then he collapsed, cursing up a storm.

  Across the room, Victoria hesitated, torn between offering to help and keeping a safe distance. As a nurse and a healer, her instincts called her to tend to the injured. Common sense kept her silent. The hunter was her enemy. She owed him nothing.

  Instead, she hurried to the imprisoned children. Michael and the girl were bravely quiet. Piteous sobs wracked the smallest of the three, a little boy who appeared to be about three. If these were the same abducted children mentioned in the newspaper article, then the girl's name was Crystal. The youngest boy should be Vincent.

  "Is it dead?" Michael asked.

  "Yes, it's dead," Victoria assured him. "Give me a sec, and I'll get you out of there." She stopped, staring up. Ceiling-mounted chains supported the cages, placing the locks well out of her reach. A burst of annoyance washed over her, and she swallowed a word inappropriate for young ears.

  "Stand on a barrel," Michael said.

  Victoria's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Good idea." She grabbed the empty steel drum that had been tipped over during the fight and dragged it toward the enclosures. Once she stood it on end, it served as an excellent makeshift ladder.

  She positioned it before Michael's cage first. Victoria fumbled with the locking mechanism which involved interlocking tumblers and finger placement. After a few minutes, she got the correct combination. The lock snapped open, and she pulled the doors wide.

  With a cry, Michael flew into her open arms. She hugged the small boy close and stroked the back of his head. He stank of filth and fear, but she didn't care. "Shh, it's okay, Michael. Your mother loves you. She sent me to save you."

  "My mother is dead," Michael said. "I saw the monster kill her."

  "Her spirit is watching over you." Victoria lowered him to the ground. "No matter what happens, always remember that, okay?"