“I’m not holding his hand.” Fumbles jerked a thumb at Starkad. “Dude still terrifies me.”
Starkad’s frustrated groan was priceless, and Brit was pretty sure he muttered children under his breath.
“Okay, Boomer,” Fumbles said.
He had no idea.
Brit and Blossom took point. Easier to keep an eye on each other this way.
The bar was empty except for the bartender, and the waitress who took their order. Perfect place for talking. And execution if needed, but the knot in Brit’s chest protested the thought of killing this team.
It didn’t matter that the five of them sat casually around the table; tension radiated from their group, and all of them were half a heartbeat from drawing their weapons.
Fumbles sighed. “Along the same vein of making assumptions and confessions, when you didn’t come back six month ago, we really hoped you’d gotten out.”
“Why would you assume that I—” Brit swallowed the rest of her question. Asking was as good as an admission of guilt to anyone with TOM training. If Fumbles was sincere, though, honesty would work in her favor.
Blossom leaned in, one arm on the table and one still near her holster. “We saw what you were doing. I don’t know if anyone else did, but Fumbles and I... They all thought—think—you’re one of them. One of the loyal.”
“I guess it takes one to know one,” Fumbles said. “As in, you were doing the same things we’d planned. Getting rid of anything personal and replacing it with meaningless-but-pretty crap. You didn’t live in your room, so much as use it as a place to sleep and hide.”
The simple recognition struck gold on the truth of what Brit had been doing. “But you’re still there.”
“You waited for your opening. We need ours.” Blossom flexed her fingers, and Fumbles covered her hand. “Leaving right after you, especially with the bedlam you threw the campus into by going and coming back and dying... We need things to be safer before we sever this tie.”
“Let us walk away, like you did.” Sincerity hung heavy in Fumbles’s plea.
Starkad shook his head. “And have you go back? Tell everyone what you know? Confirm or deny any theories they have?”
“Then let’s all go talk someplace quiet was a way to delay the inevitable. You always meant to kill us.” Blossom didn’t sound surprised. Just disappointed.
She had a point. Was there any way Starkad would let them walk away? He still hadn’t let Brit leave. Except, he did once, and she fucked it up. Brit wanted to believe Blossom and Fumbles were sincere. That they’d fade into the woodwork, and no one would ever see them again. The way Brit should have done. Would have done, before she found out Kirby was alive.
Couldn’t we let them go, this once? The plea stuck in Brit’s throat. She’d need a better argument than that.
“Did you ever intend anything else?” Starkad asked.
Blossom shrugged. “There’s always a glimmer of hope, you know? Maybe you don’t. But it’s the only thing that keeps those of us who don’t want to be there going in that place.”
“I’m sorry.” Starkad sounded like he meant it.
Gwydion clenched his jaw. Would he argue? Something told Brit he wanted to.
Blossom unhooked her holster from her belt and set it on the table in front of her. “It’s better than being there.”
This wasn’t right. It was actual surrender. Kirby’s words echoed in Brit’s thoughts. I owe them the chance to face their attacker. To offer them an opportunity to change their minds. What would Kirby have done if anyone took her up on her offer? If they did choose life and freedom over sacrifice servitude to Hel?
Brit shouldn’t share her thoughts. Not in front of Blossom and Fumbles. But it was now or never, and she was tired of the regrets stacking up. “They deserve the same chance I had.”
The glance Starkad gave her dripped with disbelief. “Not a great example.”
“Please?” Fumbles asked. “Doing the same thing Blossom did. Putting my gun on the table.”
Brit tensed, hand hovering over her holster, but Fumbles did as promised.
“You’re not taking freedom from us.” Blossom’s tone shifted. Grew harder.
Brit swore time slowed to a crawl. Blossom reached for her holster, and Brit did the same, instinct taking over.
Blossom swiveled toward Starkad.
Kirby would be heartbroken.
Brit aimed and fired, hitting Blossom in the throat.
A bullet struck Brit in the shoulder, jerking her body and agony flared through her. She spun on Fumbles and fired three rounds. Two in the chest, one in the head, just like in practice.
Reality crashed around Brit, amplified by the ringing in her ears. Two of her former teammates were slumped half-out of their seats, blood pooling everywhere.
“Fuck. You’ve got another hole in you.” Gwydion’s exclamation mingled with her shock.
“Yeah. I need a cleanup.” That was Starkad. Who was he talking to? “Spain. Cops will get here before you. I’m sorry.”
Someone was tugging on her good arm. Taking the gun from her. Pulling her to her feet. Gwydion. “Come on.”
Blossom and Fumbles were dead. They’d just wanted out, and now they were dead.
Brit followed Gwydion and Starkad through a shimmery portal, struggling to force numbness through her veins. It wasn’t working. The ice wasn’t there.
The bar vanished behind them, and they were back in the hospital wing at the palace.
“You have to stop using your body as a meat shield.” Gwydion pointed her toward an exam table.
The bullet hadn’t struck anything vital. As long as the shot was clean, it would heal before he could do much. Brit looked at Starkad. “Kirby would never forgive me if I let someone shoot you.”
A smile lingered under his frown. “And she wouldn’t have done any more damage than you did, when you tried to shoot me six months ago.”
He’s immortal, remember?
Apparently not. “Oh yeah.” Brit sank onto the table, exhaustion rolling through her. They were dead. Gone.
“I’m with the doc. Try to put a slow down on stopping bullets with your body?” Starkad almost sounded concerned? “Hey.” He crouched in front of her, drawing her attention. “They made their decision.”
You’re not taking freedom from us. Blossom’s words ran on a loop in Brit’s mind.
They had chosen, and Brit didn’t regret that her instinct was to save Starkad.
That didn’t make the loss of life—the loss of people who wanted a better life—any easier to process.
Chapter Nineteen
Min was heading into town with a small group of soldiers from his company. They’d made top marks for five days in a row of drills, and earned a night of leave as a reward. A local bar was always friendly to the people from campus, and tonight was the perfect night to get drunk.
Rumor was, a group of Nobles would be there too. Most of his company hoped they’d pick up the tab tonight—Nobles made a lot more than grunts, and when they were drinking, they were happy to share the wealth.
Min was hoping to see Kirby in a less restrictive environment. Not that he expected he’d be able to pull her aside and chat. These people were always on their guard.
There were some things about being on TOM campus that Min enjoyed. The familiar brother- and sister-hood among the cadets and soldiers. Everyone here had formed a new sort of family. They ate, worked, played, and drank together. They even fucked together, despite it being against the rules. His roommate didn’t hesitate to sneak his girlfriend in, whether or not Min was around.
And Erek had been as okay with the situation as Min was.
The thing Min disliked was the deception. Everyone here was lying about something, and it came as naturally as breathing to many of them.
Min didn’t question when his commanding officer wanted him to deliver notes to the library. But Erek knew it was because Brit would be there. A manufactured errand meant to ma
ke one of them slip. Drop the façade. Give up who they really were.
The longer he shared a head with Erek, the more the reasons for constantly putting him in Brit’s path made sense. He also understood more and more the shoot first and ask questions later mentality.
The schedule of it all didn’t work for him, though. Erek hated routine, and this level of structure had never been part of Min’s existence.
He also wasn’t learning anything new about Hel, nor did he see any opportunities to do so. He was here to watch Kirby’s back and help gather information. From his current position, he couldn’t do either.
When they reached the bar, his fellow soldiers’ cars already waited in the parking lot. There was also a Jeep and an El Camino. Nobles.
Min cheered with everyone else at the probability of free beer, and they headed inside.
The bar was like so many others Min had seen in his life—dimly lit, lots of tables, and groups of two or three locals who were probably here as many nights as they were home.
Everyone knew the elite members of Hel’s Nobles. The part of him that was Erek was awed by them every time. Tonight, Ice Queen, Cyclops, Venus, Melon-head, Crazy Eight, Thrones, and Kitten were taking turns, buying rounds.
Kitten. Brit was anything but. And right now, she was laughing and joking with everyone else.
Except she wasn’t Brit. Min saw the face, but when he looked at her, he also saw past the mask of the ka. Kirby’s essence thrummed under the surface, in a way Min had never seen before. The two were fighting for dominance in the body. It must be a daily struggle for Kirby, to let Brit’s instincts and memories take over. By now, there should be more of a blending.
As long as it wasn’t putting her in harm’s way, he wasn’t concerned.
As Kirby exchanged quips with Ice Queen, her laughter sparkled through the room. But it wasn’t nearly so bright in her soul. Min ached to join her group. To make her smile genuine and turn this into a night of celebration, like the festivals where his followers used to worship him.
Erek balked at the though. The sergeant, like all of the Nobles, was so far above him...
“Sergeant Brit is officially single.” Venus’s announcement carried over the voices, drawing everyone’s attention. “And we think she should celebrate. Hook up with someone fun for a change. Who agrees?”
The soldiers hesitated, until the Nobles cheered, indicating it was okay to join in.
Erek remembered Mark. He hadn’t known him personally, but everyone on campus believed the rumors about why he was called Sadist. They knew about Kirby, too, but she rarely interacted with them, and never with more than a passing regard. She didn’t directly impact their lives any more than they did hers.
“I don’t know,” Kirby said. “It’s been so long since I was single. What if I’ve forgotten how it works?”
When she said single she meant without a shooting partner, but it was common knowledge Mark considered her his property, and she and Kirby were a couple before that.
“Well, sweetheart, you just put your lips together and blow,” one of the female soldiers called out.
Kirby strode toward her, mouth twisted in a playful smirk. “Are you volunteering to help remind me, Private?”
“I serve at your pleasure, sir.” Tonight, rank and deference were words and nothing more.
Kirby trailed a finger along the private’s lower lip, pulling it into a pout, then leaned in for a kiss that lasted several seconds and earned a round of cheers.
Min felt no jealousy for the moment; Kirby was playing a role. But the passion she elicited was tangible and alluring.
She stepped back. “I think it’s coming back to me, but I’m not sure. Maybe someone else wants to help jog my memory about how this kissing thing works?”
She was met with more than half a dozen volunteers and didn’t hesitate to sample every flavor. If she’d refused, it would expose her as someone other than a Noble having fun. Min hated that he not only saw the deception, but part of him also understood the rationale.
He wanted a taste as well. Both parts of him. Erek was happy to take a kiss without question, but Min would only give in if Kirby agreed. The question was, how to ask without destroying this façade they’d created?
HEAT SEARED THROUGH Kirby when Min grabbed her wrist.
“Me next.” His tone held no room for argument.
Kirby hid her reaction behind a playful mask, like she had been all evening, but her breath caught when he spun her to face him. It didn’t matter that she saw someone else when she looked at his face; she felt the man underneath. The pull was hard to resist in the tamest of situations. Right now, everything inside her whimpered to drop the mask and give into the attraction.
“Rumor is, I’m in cahoots with you,” she said.
“And yet, I’m not seeing any benefit from that.” He held her gaze.
She could break out of this. Brit would break out of this. But if they were being watched anyway, maybe hiding wasn’t the way to go. Perhaps they should be mocking the idea instead. “Are you looking for cahoots-with-benefits? Because that’s not a thing.”
“Make it one,” someone in their group called.
“Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.” Their section of the bar erupted in the chant.
This was ridiculously childish. A college game, rather than a group of trained soldiers. Then again, Brit was twenty-five, and most of the others were younger because Kirby had taken out all of the older teams.
Holy shit. Realization mingled with Brit’s confirmation, distracting Kirby from the moment. Brit had given Starkad the names of anyone with more experience who was a threat to her. She’d handed over the names of anyone who might be able to hunt her when she left.
Min tightened his grip, jolting her out of her head. “What do you say we give them what they want?”
“I’m in.” Gods, she was in.
He knotted his fingers in her hair and crushed his mouth to hers.
Kirby ached to sink into the kiss. She missed his touch so much more than she wanted to admit. Min was there, distinct and familiar underneath Erek’s touch. It took an immense effort to swallow her whimper amid a chorus of Oohs.
Brit would never yield control this way. Not here. Not to anyone but Kirby or Mark. She broke the kiss, fisted Min’s shirt, and shoved him back onto a nearby bench. Kirby straddled his legs, putting her above him, and kissed him hard. When she dropped into his lap, his hardness pressed back.
She was barely aware of the whistles and cheers that erupted around them.
“I’d fuck you right here if I didn’t think they’d try to execute me for it,” Min murmured against her lips.
Crude, possessive words, that wrapped a grip around the Kirby part of her and kept it near the surface. “I’d let you.” She had to push herself away and let Brit’s ka have control again, to shove herself off his lap and regain her composure.
With the Brit Show peaking then losing its sparkle, everyone moved on to other conversations. Drinks flowed freely, until only the designated drivers in each group were talking without slurring their words. Including Kirby’s shadow for the evening.
Loki was going to be furious.
“Hey, Kitten. We should head out.” Ice Queen had an arm around Cyclops’s waist and was responsible for keeping him upright.
Kirby didn’t like the fuzz of alcohol, despite not having drunk much. She wanted to clear her head before returning. “Do you think anyone would mind if I walked back? Enjoyed the fresh air while I had it?” It wasn’t a long hike. Less than eight kilometers. She ran more most mornings.
Ice Queen smiled. “We got your back. See you tomorrow?”
Kirby nodded.
Everyone left, and Kirby turned away from campus.
She’d stroll through town for a little while, and then head home. Home. The word made her laugh. Campus was never Kirby’s home or Brit’s. Filled with peril and torture.
The kiss from Min lingered on her lips, even hours lat
er. The rest of the exchanges were meaningless—a game. She had no doubt everyone involved felt the same. Here, sex was as much a weapon as an AUG was. A kiss didn’t have any value.
Except with him. Kirby wanted answers. Needed this to end soon, so she could get back to her real home. Starkad. Gwydion.
Maybe even Min and Brit.
She never expected to think that again. Brit’s sins were unforgivable.
But seeing the world through Brit’s eyes painted everything in a new light. Suddenly, her choices, her fears, and even her betrayals, were understandable. Her guilt and regret were tangible.
Kirby didn’t know how to reconcile the clash of what she’d believed with what she knew now about Brit.
At night, the town had a different feeling. An almost reverent calm settled over the streets, but an underlying danger ran through it. Kirby didn’t know if she wanted to sink into the solitude or fight the unseen threat.
She approached a souvenir shop, and the trinkets in the windows caught her attention. A lot of turquoise jewelry. Leather. Things like dream catchers. The store window resembled a lot of the shops she’d seen in the southwestern US, but the artwork was unfamiliar. Silhouettes drawn in primitive shapes looked like they depicted death. Violence. Blood spilling on the ground and life growing through it.
And two words repeated across all of the symbolic art. Malsumis and Gluskab.
Shoes scuffed on concrete. A body slammed into her side before she could react, pushing her into the side of a nearby building and knocking the air from her lungs.
Chapter Twenty
Min was grateful Erek hadn’t been a heavy drinker. He was a couple millennia old, and he’d never been drunk before, thanks to magic that kept chemicals from influencing him. Under many other circumstances, he might enjoy this new sensation of a light fuzziness in his thoughts, but the couple beers he’d had dulled his senses enough to slow his reactions.
The kiss at the bar lingered on his lips and in his thoughts. The gathering tonight was similar to those ancient days of worship, and his queen was still in town, on foot. He wanted more of Kirby before he returned to base, and he had an idea. It was a shitty one, but enough of Erek was in control that it felt smart.
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