The Valkyrie Returns (The Kurtherian Endgame Book 7)

by Michael Anderle

  “You can’t improve perfection,” Bethany Anne told her with a grin. “And I don’t need them. According to ADAM and TOM, I’ve changed mine at their core by sheer will over the years. They are unique, and switching them out would mean a huge drop in capability while I reprogram the new ones. It’s not an issue for you guys, except for Peter, who was already at his peak.”

  Peter flexed his muscles and splayed his claws. “Who’s peaking now, bitches? Watch my bad ass go.” He bounded through the wrought iron gate and vanished among the tombstones in front of the mansion with a howl.

  Bethany Anne shook her head fondly. “The players are expecting a thrilling night, and we’d better not disappoint. We should get inside before Jacqueline opens the scenario up for them.”

  Darryl whooped as they moved through the grounds. “Eve, I think I love you.” He grinned as his avatar was transformed and electricity coursed along the skinsuit he wore. “Check me out! Black lightning! Pow!” He shot a bolt of lightning from his hands that split the sky. He looked down at himself. “Not the scariest.”

  Tabitha clapped him on the shoulder as they walked through the graves toward the house. “Let me see what I can do about that.” She snapped her fingers, and Darryl was transformed into a zombie version of his character. “Now that’s Halloween.”

  Darryl held out his hands to show Tabitha the decomposing flesh. “How’d you do that?”

  “Yes, Tabitha,” Michael repeated. “How did you do that?”

  Tabitha flashed her trademark grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Sweet!” Darryl enthused.

  Scott wrinkled his nose, waving a hand in front of his face. “Sweet? I don’t think so. You smell like a bag of rotting dicks.”

  Darryl grinned and reached for Scott with his arms held stiffly. “Well, yeah. I’m a zombie, asshole. What about you? I know you’re not gonna pass up the chance to live your fantasies—and how do you know what a bag of rotting dicks smells like, anyway?”

  “You got me,” Scott admitted, skipping out of Darryl’s grasp. “It would be too fucking cool to throw magic around in a fight. I’m not seeing anything on the menu that gives me that ability without putting me in a dress.”

  John laughed. “They’re called robes, dipshit.”

  Scott gave him the middle-finger salute. “If my boys aren’t being cradled by a gusset, it’s a dress as far as I’m concerned.” He glanced speculatively at Darryl. “But if the great black hope here can customize his character, then so can I. What you got for me, Tabbie?”

  Tabitha repeated the gesture, and Scott was suddenly kitted out in full robes and a pointy hat. “Wizards wear robes. It’s a tradition. Maybe next time you don’t get cute, and I’ll think about cutting you some slack.”

  “Cape, maybe,” Scott countered. “Not the robe. Come on, can I at least get some pants? There’s no way Darryl gets to be cooler than me.”

  Darryl flicked his hand in Scott’s direction, zapping him with the spark of electricity. “At least I’m not a short-ass. Maybe BA can lend you some heels to go with your dress so you don’t trip on the damned thing?”

  “Motherfucker,” Scott bitched, a good-natured grin softening his complaints. “Talk about kicking a man when he’s dressed badly. What do you say, BA?” he called to Bethany Anne. “Got anything in my size?”

  Tabitha snickered and replaced the colorful robes with a tuxedo and cape. “There you go. Does that keep your masculinity intact?”

  Scott looked at his arms. “My masculinity was fine. I just don’t want to get caught up by all that fabric while I’m fighting. How women and Ixtalis do it, I don’t know. I’m in awe.”

  Nickie chose the cat costume and looked at John with amusement as she exited the menu. “Where’s your costume, Grandad?”

  John winked at her. “Find something on that menu that’s more terrifying than meeting me in person, and I’ll put it on.” He turned his attention to Eric and Gabrielle, who were conferring with their heads together. “What are you two plotting over there?”

  Gabrielle snickered as her outfit was replaced by a high-necked, batwing-sleeved velvet gown in blood-red. She flashed long fangs at John. “It’s too ironic, no? Ze lady vampire vants to suck your blood.”

  “That won’t help you get a new ability,” Bethany Anne told her with amusement.

  Gabrielle’s eyes glowed red as she tested her increased powers. She dissolved into Myst and reformed. “That’s new. Besides, I’m already extremely powerful. I’ve trained hard to control Etheric energy, and I’m faster than almost everyone except for you and Michael. I won’t lie; as long as I get out of this with the ability to walk the Etheric consistently, I’ll be happy. It’s all about being the deadliest, right?”

  Eric gazed at Gabrielle and shook his head, then returned to scrolling through the menu. “I need something that will let me protect my wife from her bloodthirsty ways.”

  Gabrielle folded her arms and fixed Eric with a stern look. “Who says I need to be protected? I’ll kick the ass of anyone who is foolish enough to invite it.”

  Eric groaned. “Dammit, Gabrielle. What about when it’s just you, me, and a horde of whatever aliens come our way lookin’ for a whuppin’, huh?”

  Gabrielle manifested an energy ball over each palm and smiled at her husband. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”

  “Defensive,” Eric repeated firmly. He chose from the menu, and his avatar became a Roman centurion. “Let me try this.” He cracked his knuckles, then made a pushing motion.

  Everyone jumped back as a translucent dome appeared around Eric and Gabrielle.

  “That’s not so lame,” Eric conceded as he manipulated the energy field. “I could get used to this.”

  “Forcefields are also offensive,” Michael offered. “As anyone who has been bounced off a shield would tell you—if they survived, that is.”

  Eric grinned as he extended the shield to bump Darryl, who electrified it with a touch. “Shit, so they are. Cool trick, Darryl.”

  Bethany Anne and Michael walked arm in arm at the rear of the group. Gas lamps flickered on as they entered the mansion, revealing warm woods and deep colors in the fabric furnishings of the hall.

  Bethany Anne slipped around to take point. “Okay, this place is laid out like a maze. Spread out. The players will be all over the house, looking for the hidden entrance to the crypt.”

  “What’s our role here?” Tabitha asked. “I get the killy-killy part, but what are the players aiming to achieve?”

  “It’s a treasure hunt.” Bethany Anne grinned as she led them into the control room and showed them the split screens on the wall monitor. “Michael and I have control of a variety of nasty surprises for the players. You’re the crypt-keepers. Your objective is to prevent the players from reaching the crypt by any means necessary.”

  “Any means?” Gabrielle repeated with some surprise. “How is it any fun for the players if we just wipe them out by the dozen?”

  “They get five lives,” Michael answered. “You get one. Eve is tallying the kill scores. If you manage to get killed by a bunch of unpowered players, you respawn with zero points, and they get a magical bonus to help them in the game.”

  “That kinda sucks,” Peter grumped. “Some of the other species are equipped to cause serious damage.”

  Bethany Anne waved a hand. “Expect to be met by the unexpected since even the nonhumans are playing as humans. They will be armed to the teeth, but not superpowered.”

  “Thank fuck for small mercies.” Nickie sighed her relief. “I didn’t think much of getting body-slammed by aliens three times the size of me. Even if I’m not that easy to break, it still hurts like a bitch.”

  Bethany Anne sent everyone in the group a map of the mansion. “The players don’t get the full map, so they don’t know about any of the secret locations. They don’t know about you, either. What they have is a series of cryptic clues to follow and solve, and whatever weaponry they choose in
character creation.”

  She smirked as Eve informed her that the first batch of players was about to be plugged into the scenario. “The players are just about here. Go, my fiends, and find your places.”

  Devon, The Hexagon, Eve’s Sublevel

  Demon growled low in her throat when the smell of the water creatures hit her, and her olfactory center complained violently to her stomach. She rolled onto her front and got to her feet just in time to eject her last meal on the floor.

  She called to Sabine and her mate, the cat simply known to her as “You,” or “He,” her mental voice as weak and small as a kitten’s.

  They entered the room Eve had allocated Demon and He rushed to Demon’s side, pausing only to sniff the puddle of vomit before padding over to press his face to Demon’s in concern.

  Demon found even His scent to be too much. Get off me, she hissed as another wave of nausea rolled her. Can’t you see I’m sick?

  Sabine skirted the mess and knelt by Demon. “What made you sick?”

  Demon groaned. The Collectives. I can smell them and hear the noise from their group mind. It was overwhelming for a moment.

  Sabine’s face crinkled in concern as she scanned Demon’s temperature and pulse rate. “I’m not convinced the Collectives are the issue. Can you walk?”

  Demon hauled herself back to her feet. Where are we going?

  Sabine kept her focus on Demon as they paced slowly toward the elevator. “I want to put you in a Pod-doc and find out what’s going on. You shouldn’t be able to get sick. Did you eat anything besides your normal diet today?”

  No. I haven’t had much appetite. Demon shook her head, then regretted it when her vision swam. Just the bistok hearts my butcher brought, which were fresh and delicious.

  Sabine narrowed her eyes. “How many did you eat?”

  Three, Demon replied. As I said, I don’t have the biggest appetite at the moment.

  Sabine turned to the male cat. “Did you eat the same?”

  He nodded.

  Sabine pressed her lips together. “Do you feel sick?”

  He shook his head in the negative, giving Sabine a look she was sure meant He thought she was missing something.

  Sabine ruled out food poisoning, but that left…what? “Pod-docs, let’s go.”

  They rode the elevator to the first floor and made their way to the medical facility in the training complex that the warriors used when they picked up training injuries.

  Sabine led the cats to a private room containing two Pod-docs, a small table, and three chairs. “Demon, you get into the left one.” She smiled at the male. “I understand you are reluctant to be fitted with a neural chip, but would you consent to a temporary one so we can do something about your inability to speak?”

  The male sat back on his haunches and hissed.

  Sabine held up her hands. “Your choice. I’m not giving up just yet. We’ll get Demon checked out, then I want you to come with me to the Collective habitat. Eve has a piece of equipment that might help. It’s not invasive,” she assured the cat, seeing that he was about to object again. “Don’t you want to talk to Demon?”

  He narrowed his eyes at Sabine.

  She shrugged. “Honestly, you would think I’d just offered to skin you and make a rug from your pelt. Nobody is going to make you do something you don’t want to.”

  He sniffed delicately, his haughty expression telling Sabine she was damn right that he wouldn’t be made to do a thing by anyone.

  Sabine rolled her eyes, picked up a chair, and placed it next to the Pod-doc. “At least we have one sensible feline,” she remarked tartly. Demon used the chair as a step on the way into the Pod-doc.

  Don’t count on that, Demon told Sabine as the lid closed. I’m only being this agreeable because I’m sick.

  Sabine had Winstanley ran a basic diagnostic, which left her slightly confused. She looked down when the male butted her knee. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know. We have to wait for the diagnostic results.”

  A few moments later, Winstanley came back with the results. Sabine scanned them, and her frown melted. “Oh, ma chat,” she murmured. “You’ve gotten yourself into a situation, no?”

  She instructed the Pod-doc to open, and Demon sat up and stretched.

  What is wrong with me? Demon asked.

  Sabine’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Morning sickness, I can only assume. You’re expecting.”

  Expecting what? Demon demanded, her tone sharp.

  “Kittens, ma petite chou,” Sabine replied. “You are going to be a mother, and rather soon if I’m reading this scan correctly.”

  Winstanley chipped in from the speaker. “You are, Sabine. I would say the conception occurred on Qu’Baka.”

  Demon was speechless for once.

  The male purred and put his front paws up on the Pod-doc to bump his face against Demon’s.

  Sabine turned her smile on him. “Yes, well, you would be looking proud, wouldn’t you, Daddy?”

  10

  Immersive Training and Recreation Scenario: Haunted House

  Michael sat next to Bethany Anne at the bank of monitors, observing the crush of people at the front entrance. “What do you say? Shall we let them in?”

  Bethany Anne smiled as a howl from Peter sent a shiver through the waiting line. “Well, they’re not going to have a good Halloween standing outside in the mist. Open the doors. It’s time for the first lot of happy and willing victims.”

  “You mean, ‘players,’” Michael clarified, not missing the playful note in Bethany Anne’s voice.

  Bethany Anne flashed a grin at him. “I didn’t misspeak. This is training for my own. It only looks like a fun night of getting the pants scared off you to the people who came here for that.”

  Michael perused the special effects choices. “Interesting. We have plenty to play with here.”

  Bethany Anne looked over his shoulder and pointed out her choices. “Start with the fog and give them a chill. Then add one enchanted blade to each player’s hidden inventory. If they manage to beat any of the Bitches, they get access to the weapon.”

  The people reacted in various ways to the drop in temperature in the hall. A few screamed as Michael added the fog, as requested.

  “What about the trap?” he asked.

  “That’s for anyone who makes it out again,” Bethany Anne told him. “See, there’s a rolling boulder in the back passage.”

  Nickie’s snicker broke comm silence. “You said ‘back passage,’” she teased.

  Bethany Anne ignored her and picked up the microphone that connected to hidden speakers throughout the building. “Welcome to the home of Professor Hubert Stanley,” she intoned in the gravelly voice usually reserved for her Baba Yaga moments. “The professor went missing under mysterious circumstances after his discovery of the tomb of Hem-netjer Methertang, the high priest of the race of aliens responsible for the pyramid worlds. Somewhere in this house is the cursed body of the priest, along with all of his wealth. Some say that Professor Stanley was killed by the curse, but others believe that he was murdered by the ghosts of the high priest’s bodyguards. Judge for yourself—if you dare.”

  The players scattered into the mansion at the mention of treasure, each group determined to find the prize, curse or no curse.

  The screaming began when the first group came upon Gabrielle’s hiding place in the refectory. Bethany Anne zeroed in and blew up the camera feed to watch.

  Froom and his buddies were having the time of their lives. The three of them had found the human avatars somewhat strange to inhabit at first. After a few minutes of stumbling around, they soon got used to walking on two legs and made their way toward the building to look for their first clue.

  They separated from the crush at the entry, and Froom led them around the side of the building to a door he’d spotted on the walk through the grounds.

  “I can’t believe Ricole broke those guys’ arms,” Distan whispered as they slipped i
n through the side door.

  “I thought they got off lightly,” Lecten disagreed. “You want to lose a limb, piss off a Noel-ni, I always say.”

  Neither of them had an argument for that.

  “Serves the bullies right,” Froom stated with some vehemence. “I hate anyone who uses their advantages to take from the weak.” He paused. “Not that we’re weak. They picked a fight just because they’re bigger than us.”

  Distan snickered. “I tell you what. I would pay just to watch her doing her job. Remember that episode of Devon’s Defenders when they showed us around the Hexagon, and Ricole and Sabine were running the rookie Guardian Marines through their paces?”

  “Do I!” Lecten enthused. “I watched it again when it reran. I love that show. Hey, don’t tell my parents, but I’ve been thinking about what I’m gonna do now we’re finished with school, and I’m gonna sign up for the Guardian Marines.”

  “This way,” Froom told the two as they entered a dark hallway lit by candles in sconces. “It looks like we’ve gotten ahead of the crowd.”

  “Good,” Lecten replied. “I’m not keen about getting trapped in a killing zone. We need to stick to the quiet areas.”

  “Makes sense,” Distan agreed. “You think maybe we can go to the recruitment office together?”

  “Not now,” Froom told them, waving the conversation down. “Tonight is about blowing off some steam before we have to choose what paths we’re going to be on for the next couple of decades.”

  Distan stumbled, and Froom caught her before she went ass over carapace. “Thanks,” she told him, looking back to see what the offending obstacle had been. She lifted the floor runner and found a rectangular door with a heavy iron ring set into it. “Look at this, guys. I found a trapdoor.”

  “You mean, it found you,” Lecten teased. He hauled on the iron ring, and the door lifted to reveal a staircase going down. “Come on, let’s see where it leads.”

  Froom looked into the yawning pit and shivered as a sickening howl tore through the night, followed by a bunch of screams echoing from somewhere outside the building. “We’d better stay alert. Just because we avoided whatever that was, it doesn’t mean we won’t run into anything just as bad going this way.”