It would be nice to do other things, as well. As she stared at the pages in front of her, doing an incredible imitation of ignoring the private at the front desk, fantasy flooded her thoughts. Of Min’s kisses. His touch, fingers rough and demanding as they roamed her body. The rush that came from his unique flavor of worship and pain. The way he felt, buried inside her.
She cut off the rambling thoughts before too much heat could flood her face. What was with her head? Nothing had changed between them from the time he gave her this face until now, but her heart was chanting his name almost as loudly as her body was.
Min was tender. He was kind. He treated her like a person—
Ah. Brit’s feelings were bleeding into Kirby’s. He’d been good to Brit. Even as a captor, he afforded her a dignity she never had outside of her relationship with Kirby. Brit didn’t love him romantically, but she recognized he was attractive, and the bond of friendship forming between them was almost enough to make Kirby jealous.
The last thing she needed was to dive into the complications of her heart, especially with half her thoughts and emotions belonging to someone else. And she really didn’t need her desire for Min to be spiraling out of control before the two of them had cleared a few things up.
None of that stopped the insistent pulse between Kirby’s legs that wanted Min now.
She maintained the façade. A week dragged into two. Min’s visits to the library weren’t consistent, but most days, he was somewhere during her route. Kitchen patrol when she grabbed breakfast. Running laps with his company at the same time she jogged. And her Loki-assigned shadow was always present. If she decided she wanted a walk at 1 am—not unusual for Brit—he fell into line behind her.
Min probably had it worse. Grunts shared barracks, and he reported to someone else every minute of every day.
The novelty of a comfortable routine quickly faded into an ever-present cloud of oppression. Six years ago, this had been status quo for Kirby. Six months ago, it was Brit’s life. Now, it was suffocating.
Getting out should mean getting out.
Day Fifteen in the library didn’t yield anything more than the other days had. She was spinning her wheels in here. She needed a new approach. Not that she had any idea what direction to head. How long, until she had the freedom to roam near Hel’s old office? If Loki’d had the place cleaned out, would it matter? Hel was supposed to be returning. He’d leave things intact, wouldn’t he?
Time to head back to her apartment.
“Kitten,” Cyclops called her name from behind, and the warning bells in her head screamed. She spun to find him sprinting toward her. He stopped next to her, as calm as if he’d strolled the fifty meters between them. “A few of us are heading into town for coffee. Ice Queen, Venus, Melon-head. Everyone wants to catch up.”
Her mouth practically watered at the idea of the local coffee shop’s pastries. She’d prefer better company, but the thing about the Nobles was they were always kind to her face. She could tolerate that for an hour or two of freedom. “Do I get to lose the grunt?” She nodded toward her escort.
“Hey, Richard,” Cyclops said.
“Sir?”
“Sergeant Brit is coming with us. You trust us to keep an eye on her, don’t you?”
Richard nodded. “Yes, sir.”
As if he was going to say anything else. Freedom. The light cloud spread through Kirby. Brit was more tentative, but willing to trade bullshit for a good brownie. “Thanks.” She smiled warmly at Richard. He might be a grunt, but there was no reason to be rude.
She and Cyclops headed toward the parking lot, where the others were waiting at Ice Queen’s Jeep. The off roader was her baby; she’d spent a couple years restoring the hunk of junk she bought for fifty bucks from a guy in town.
She earned the nickname because she was so pale. Even in their pack of blond hair and blue eyes, she was an unearthly porcelain. And she always had to have her iced chai, even if it was minus ten. She’d even figured out how to reproduce her favorite drink the midst of a brutal winter training mission.
They all piled into the vehicle. There wasn’t room for five people—not really—so Kirby sat on the back of the rear bench, her feet on the seat, and held on.
The drive into town was all laughter and jokes. Teams were paired based on a number of factors—complementary strengths and skill sets, and how they got along, were at the top of the list. Most teams would take a bullet for each other, but would also throw punches at each other in the heat of the moment. It was a balance between competition and friendliness, like so much in this place.
Ice Queen drove, with Venus next to her. Venus had earned her nickname after breaking her arm during training, but finishing the fight completely with her footwork. She was stone cold and still better than most, even without her arms. Just like the statue of Venus.
Cyclops and Melon-head sat on either side of Kirby. Melon-head got his name because, well... Cyclops caught him fucking a melon in the kitchen one night.
The wind in Kirby’s hair felt amazing. The sun on her face... The carefree laughter and stories... Kirby had never lived this life when she was here, but for Brit, it was familiar and phony. Was it really, though? They seemed so kind.
They’re not, Brit’s experience argued.
The other sniper teams had pulled away, the longer Brit was partnered with Mark—Sadist, for exactly the reasons his name implied—but in those moments when she found herself alone with any of them, they’d take the chance to remind her what kind of obstacle she was to their career.
She’d had as little a home here as Kirby did, but once Kirby was gone, she’d gone through it alone. Brit had spent more nights than not, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, wanting to cry because Kirby was gone, and she was responsible. Because she wasn’t strong enough to stand up to Mark. Because she chose her own status over the woman who loved her.
When they reached the coffee shop, the barista—DJ—greeted all of them and gave Kirby-as-Brit a warm welcome back. At least that seemed genuine. “Usuals?” he asked everyone before turning to her. “New salted-caramel chocolate brownies. You in?”
“Damn right.” Kirby used her grin to beat back the painful memories. That was how Brit did it. She locked everything behind what mood she was supposed to be feeling, and let the mask talk.
Everyone reached for payment, but Venus got her card out first and handed it over. “‘S’on me.”
“I’ll bring everything out in a few,” DJ said.
The group took a table in the back. This time of day, the place was mostly quiet. The town did a lot of its business thanks to the campus, and early afternoon, class was in session and the people who lived here were working.
There was a bar down the street that always got noisy when Nobles or grunts showed up, but nobility tried to stay subdued in the coffee shop. It was half about appearances, and half because this was the only time they could really talk, and a lot of the things they said were meant for their ears only.
The light joking continued while they waited for their food and drinks, as if Brit had never left. As long as Kirby didn’t look past the surface, the camaraderie was easy to fall into.
DJ dropped off their orders and faded back behind the counter.
Ice Queen leaned in close to Kirby. “Rumor is you’re the reason Sadist didn’t come back.” Her voice was soft.
No thanks to any of you. “It’s true. Dropped a bullet in the back of his head.” Kirby wasn’t bragging. It was what it was. Not that she felt any guilt.
A wave of Thank Vidar rolled around the table.
“In that case, how many of the other rumors are true?” Melon-head asked.
Kirby didn’t know how much she could say, but the Brit part of her did. She had to offer a little resistance, though. “Is that the only reason you wanted me here?” she kept her tone light, despite the bitterness under the question. “To get the gossip from the source?”
“That, and you’re single now
. Sadist is gone. Valkyrie isn’t here. If we court you, maybe one of us gets a three-person team. There’s no way they’re going to sideline talent like yours.” Ice Queen spoke between sips of her iced chai.
“Valkyrie,” Kirby repeated. Apparently they’d given her a call sign after all. “It’s so weird. Isn’t it?” That Kirby was an actual Valkyrie.
“It’s bullshit, if you ask me.” Venus didn’t like caffeine; she was having water and a cinnamon roll half the size of her head. “I know you and her... But she always thought she was better than us. Imagine if she’d found out who she was while she was still here.”
Ice Queen rolled her eyes. “Ugh.”
Well, ouch. Kirby didn’t want the words to hurt, but they drilled a hole through her. Because they were true.
“Did you really run into her again?” Cyclops was a black-coffee-with-a-shot-of-espresso kind of guy.
Run into her... Let her become me... “Yup.”
“I’m sorry, Kitten.” Venus rested a comforting hand on her arm. “It doesn’t seem right you got saddled with the psychos twice. But I know losing her hurt.”
More than any of you will ever understand. Kirby’s smile was weak. “Thanks.” Brit had been crushed when she heard Kirby was dead. But these people thought the story Brit told in Kirby’s trial was true. That Kirby had forced her into the relationship. And enough of Brit had felt overshadowed by Kirby, even when she was gone, that it was easy to let the lie linger.
I’m so sorry, Brit’s regret echoed loudly in Kirby’s thoughts. “Hey, don’t Blossom and Fumbles usually hang with you? I haven’t seen them since I got back.” Two weeks. Teams were rarely gone for more than a couple of days. And Brit actually liked Blossom and Fumbles. They’d seemed more genuine than most Nobles.
Melon-head cleared his throat. “Did Hel really make you immortal? Fuck Valkyrie. We want answers to the important questions.” His order was identical to Kirby’s. Caramel latte and brownie.
Why didn’t he answer the question? Kirby nodded, and tugged down the shoulder of her T-shirt to expose a pale-white mark. “She did. I heal from everything I’ve encountered so far, but it still hurts like fuck, and if the wound is bad, it takes me out of things for a while. When I got back, Loki stuck a dagger in my shoulder.”
Ice Queen traced the scar with her fingers. “It’s barely visible, like it’s been there for years. You returned the favor?”
Kirby scowled. “You know how slippery the fucker is, with that teleporting trick of his. I gave him a good run, though.”
“Shame Hel didn’t give you that gift too,” Melon-head said.
“Speaking of, where have you been?” A more somber tone slid into Cyclops’s question.
Everywhere. Nowhere. “Lost. I’ve been very lost. I went up against Kir—Valkyrie—with Hel. They killed her, and I thought they killed me. I woke up a few days later, but my head hasn’t been in it. I wandered in a kind of fugue for a few months, and my brain finally cleared enough to find my way home.”
“We’re glad you’re back.” Ice Queen sounded sincere. Actually sincere, not being polite sincere. “I mean, yeah, because Hel said you’d return, but also because it’s you. Welcome home.”
“Thanks.” Did they mean it? Kirby wanted to believe so, but Brit insisted she not be fooled. “So this prophecy about Hel’s return. You’re going to fill me in, right?”
Melon-head smirked. “You’re going to love this.”
Somehow she doubted that.
“Short version is, death will bring back Hel.” Ice Queen was always good at straight-to-the-point. “Blood spilled in her name is the sacrifice that gives her power.”
Cyclops leaned in, elbows on the table, gaze locked on Kirby’s. “She told us it would look like one of the Nobles betrayed her and died for it, but it wouldn’t be true. That when they returned from the grave, it would be a sign that the next steps were imminent.”
Did Hel know Brit was going to betray her in that fight? It seemed unlikely. She might have just as reasonably been talking about Kirby. What Hel meant didn’t matter now; the Nobles’ interpretation did. “She never told me any of this.”
“Easier to make it look like you’re a betrayer when you don’t know the full story.” Venus made the logic sound obvious. “But there’s no reason you can’t know now. We’ll need your help.”
“What are we doing? She told me things about everyone... going away, but she didn’t give me many details.” This wasn’t how Kirby expected to find her information. It was almost too easy to be true. No reason to rule it out before hearing them out, though.
Cyclops crooked his finger, and everyone leaned in. This didn’t look suspicious at all. “We spill the blood of the entire campus in her name.” His voice was so low, Kirby wanted to believe she’d misheard him.
“I knew that much,” Kirby said. Hearing it confirmed was still chilling. Especially with the way all of their faces shone with unwavering faith. “There’s got to be more, or you would have done it already.”
Melon-head managed a barking laugh encased in a whisper. Neat trick. “There’s no elegance in that. We’re waiting for more information about the how. We’ve been digging, though—literally and figuratively. A series of leylines intersect under the administration building, and in the foundations of every structure, there are a series of embedded runes. A giant seal or lock. We have to spill the blood correctly, to activate everything.”
That sounded complicated for a plan that had built-in failsafes and would supposedly happen regardless of the steps taken to stop it. It also sounded gruesome. “We’re not talking about a neat, clean, everyone-is-gassed-in-their-sleep kind of scenario?”
“No. It has to be messy.” Cyclops almost looked sad. But the determined set of his jaw and hardness in his eyes never wavered.
“You said the entire campus. That means us, too.” Kirby must be missing something. “After years of building all of this, she’s going to burn it down to return? What’s the point in creating it in the first place?”
Ice Queen’s eyes sparkled. “That’s the beauty of this entire thing. It’s why your return is so critical. You prove death can be overcome. When Hel’s back, she’ll resurrect all of her true believers. We can’t have the unfaithful on campus, though, because it will interfere with the final goal. That’s why Blossom and Fumbles aren’t here. They’re on a long string of errands that only seem important.” Conviction rang in her words.
In all of their words.
Telling them they were wrong and this was stupid threatened Kirby’s cover and wouldn’t convince them of anything.
Chapter Eighteen
Brit didn’t want to shoot Fumbles. It had been hard enough shooting a soldier, and she’d trained with this man for years. He was one of the few Nobles she actually liked.
He held both hands in the air but didn’t re-secure his gun. “The others think your return means Hel’s coming back too. I’m guessing none of them expect you to be with him.”
The door behind Brit swung open, but she had to keep her focus on Fumbles.
“What the—”
Starkad trained his gun on Blossom, cutting her off. She moved into view, but unlike Fumbles, she’d drawn her weapon. “You made it back to Valkyrie.” Blossom almost sounded jealous.
They’d given Kirby a call sign after she was gone? They called Brit Kitten and they gave a traitor one of the most revered names a person could carry. Okay, sure, Kirby actually was a Valkyrie, and they probably called her that sarcastically, but still... “Does it look like she’s here?” Brit asked.
Pedestrians brushed around them on the sidewalk, never giving them a second glance, as if there wasn’t a small pack of people pointing guns at each other.
“Neat trick, making the world ignore us,” Fumbles said. “I didn’t learn that one in class.”
“You’re welcome.” Despite being the only one of them whose weapon was still tucked away, Gwydion looked more wound up than any of them.
Min had told Brit this was something Gwydion could do—make the world ignore things they didn’t want to see. Watching it in action was far more impressive than she’d anticipated. He was a lot more powerful than he let on. No wonder Loki didn’t like him.
“So... do we just stand out here and stare each other down?” Blossom asked. “None of us wants to deal with calling for dead-body cleanup in the middle of a busy sidewalk.”
Fumbles looked at Starkad. “I’m going to assume what I say next won’t backfire. I wasn’t willing to die for Hel, and I’m sure as fuck not dying for Loki, now that she’s gone.” Far too quick a confession. He was lying. Wasn’t he?
Brit didn’t like the doubt. “We could all go someplace quieter and get a beer. Catch up. Talk about old times.” She had spent a lot of luxurious time in the last few months, letting her true feelings show. Time to fall back onto her training and play things as cool as Blossom and Fumbles were.
These Nobles weren’t walking away from this alive. If they went back to campus and saw another Brit there or told the others who they’d run into, it would put Kirby and the entire mission at risk.
But that didn’t mean Brit was eager to execute them. Why couldn’t Venus be here instead? Cyclops? At least it wasn’t Dahlia. Brit didn’t know if she could pull the trigger on her.
“There’s a tapas bar around the corner.” Fumbles nodded behind him.
Starkad gestured at Blossom. “Weapons away, and we’ll go get lunch.”
“You first.” She sounded tenser than Fumbles.
Starkad holstered his gun.
Brit hesitated, for show. They didn’t need to know she wasn’t afraid of being shot.
Blossom applied the faintest pressure to the trigger as she stared Brit down. “You first, Kitten.”
Kirby would be devastated if Starkad got shot.
He’s immortal.
Oh, yeah. Brit holstered her pistol. As soon as her hands fell away, Blossom mimicked her motions.
“Lead the way,” Brit said, hooking her arm through Blossom’s like she would if they were back on campus and going for friendly drinks.
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