He smoothly evaded the attack. Smirking, he finished, "…your father figure."
Furious, Victoria took a step back, dragging Sawyer with her. She retreated as a means of checking her hotheaded temper. If she didn't put space between them, she'd go straight for his throat next time. "I won't listen to your lies," she hissed. "It's well known that you are a manipulator and a cowardly villain, Trickster."
Loki glanced down, mouth contorted in a sadistic grin. When at last he looked up, his face relaxed once again into a pleasant smile. "I'm not evil. I'm just drawn that way."
"Leave me alone." Glowering, Victoria enunciated each word as a distinct sentence. "I know what you want from me, and it's never going to happen. I'll never free Fenrir."
"Good, because I'll never ask." Loki shoved away from the tree. He swiped his hands together as if wiping them clean. From beneath hooded lids, he smiled. "Odin will be the one to command you to set Fenrir free, Victoria."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Fólkvangr, Freya's hall in Sessrúmnir
The goddess adopted a rigid stance, and her spear and shield manifested in her hands. "In return for the modification to our agreement, you will assure my brother's survival as well."
Eyes rounded, Loki took a quick step back. "This is ridiculous. Freyr wouldn't even be in danger of perishing in Ragnarök if the fool hadn't given up his sword for the love of a woman."
She lifted her nose into the air. "Do not dare mock my brother's sacrifice. He chose true love over a weapon. It was a noble deed, and love is something the likes of you will never understand."
Loki rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure a whore's love is worth a magic sword that fought on its own. True love shouldn't require a man to cut off his nuts for the sake of dipping his—"
Freya interrupted, cutting short his lewd words. "That is how you will save him. Recover his sword."
Loki spread his hands in a display of outrage and shouted so his voice filled her hall. "How the hell am I supposed to do that?"
Freya offered him a grim smile. "You are the clever one, Trickster. Figure it out."
"But—"
"Be gone." With a wave of her hand, Freya expelled the loathsome creature from her hall.
Midgard
"Liar," Victoria hissed, hatred blazing in her heart.
A grim smile twisted Loki's lips. "So they say."
She shook her head hard. "You can't expect me to believe such an absurd—"
Loki vanished.
Lies! Shocked, Victoria was frozen in place, denial screaming through her mind. Lies. They had to be. The Trickster sought to sow dissension and suspicion. He desired to drive wedges and to undermine untested alliances. He must possess some uncanny knowledge of her secret doubts which enabled him to precisely target her fears.
The dead forest dissolved into a dizzying multi-colored swirl like TV snow, and Victoria's stomach lurched. Hands clutched over her queasy abdomen, she bent as reality reorganized itself once again. The armory reappeared.
"I'm really starting to hate this." A wave of nausea hit her, so she bent and tucked her knees against her chest. "Ugh."
On the ground, Sawyer performed a quick sit-up. His hands closed on her shoulders and offered her support. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. You?" She looked up into his face and smiled, amazed and grateful he lived. She tentatively touched his cheek, fingertips grazing his bristled beard growth. Those unruly bangs that hung over his eye were as annoying as the man himself. Succumbing to temptation, she brushed the dirty-blond locks aside. Right then and there, she swore a silent vow. She'd learn to accept him into her pack, no matter how weird or uncomfortable.
"I'm alive." He spoke casually, but then a spark of startled realization gleamed in his eyes. Lips parted, he released a long sigh and squeezed her shoulders tighter. "I'm alive. Thank you."
"You're welcome." She smiled and turned her head aside, blinking to rid the sudden sting of tears. A pair of jean-clad legs entered her field of vision. She looked up and made eye contact with Jake. Stillness overcame her, the nervous anticipation of waiting on a parent's approval or rejection.
"Nice job, Victoria." Jake's lips pulled over even white teeth.
She flushed with pleasure. "Thanks."
Jake offered a hand up to Sawyer. "I'm glad you're okay, Son."
Sawyer cleared his throat and accepted his father's help to his feet. "Thanks."
They grasped each other's forearms, interlocking limbs in a restrained demonstration of their devotion to one another. Delineated muscles bulged beneath their tanned skin as the two men slapped one another on the back in an abbreviated version of the man hug.
"What happened to Hildr?" Victoria asked, glancing around the room. The armory looked like the middle of a war zone with piles of slag, pools of blood, and dropped weapons and shell casings. Cleaning it up would take forever. Thankfully, Jake had plenty of minions, presumably ones who knew how to use mops in addition to assault rifles.
"I told her to wait in the other room," Jake said. "Are you feeling okay?"
"My stomach hates me." Grimacing, she stayed seated to be on the safe side. She inhaled, held her breath, and then exhaled slowly. "I can't believe it's finally over."
"Not quite yet," Jake said in a serious tone, capturing their immediate attention. He lifted his hand, the glowing ruby pendant in his palm, the heavy silver chain treaded between his splayed fingers.
Sawyer hitched. "Is that..."
"Your brother's soul." Jake gripped the amulet in a white knuckled fist. The corded muscles of his forearm bulged. The bones in his wrists stood out, and his knuckles whitened from exertion. "It's time to set Daniel free."
Victoria opened her mouth to protest before he damaged the gemstone, but a sharp crack split the air. Her heart leapt in her throat. Too late! Reflexively, she lunged to her feet and suppressed the impulse to grab Jake's arm.
"Dad, what the hell?" Sawyer demanded in alarm, stepping closer.
Jake's fingers uncurled and revealed a handful of sparkling powder. With a flick of his wrist, he cast the gemstone dust into the air. A ruby whirlwind swirled through the room, bellowing further outward with each graceful rotation. Following a rapid expansion, the entire cloud condensed into the shape of a man.
A pair of familiar black, steel-toed boots, worn and muddy, appeared before Victoria. Her breath exited her lungs in a sudden huff, leaving her winded, and her heart slammed against her breastbone, thundering in her ears. Swiftly, the figure coalesced from a blurry shimmer into a solid form, rugged good looks to go with his athletic build.
Daniel flashed his bad boy smirk, and his chocolate-brown eyes gleamed with mischief. He glanced down, performing a quick inspection of his body. "Nice job. I knew you'd get that bastard. But damn, Dad. It took you long enough."
She shot toward him, but the Barrett family came together in a collision closer to a rugby tackle than a hug. The three men were all talking at once, creating so much noise she only caught fragments of the conversation. Shouting, laughing, and pounding, their roughhousing effectively locked her out. Frustrated, Victoria circled, looking for an opening to Daniel. Spotting her opportunity, she rushed forward and jostled Sawyer aside with a well-placed elbow to the ribs. "Let me through."
"Ouch." Exaggerating the severity of his injury, Sawyer positioned a protective arm over his ribcage. He vacated the area, muttering, "...chopped liver..." But he wore a genuine smile, free of tension and anger, and he looked years younger.
"Daniel." She came face to face with his chest, blue cotton stretched taut across ripped muscles. Beneath her fingertips, the material was downy soft over hard as steel muscles. She tried not to let it get to her that he wore the shirt he'd died in, but the knowledge rendered perfect happiness impossible.
"I've missed you, baby," Daniel said, choking on the words. "So damn much."
"I've missed you too." Tears of joy threatened. Within a heartbeat, the walls erected about her heart in the months since his
death, tumbled. Unconditional love ruled her. She wrapped her arms about his trim waist and enjoyed his embrace. Her nostrils flared as she drank in his earthy male scent.
Tucking his hand against the back of her skull, Daniel bent and pressed warm lips against her mouth. Hot. Wet. His flavor, an aromatic bouquet of cardamom and burgundy, tasted rich on her tongue. Strong fingers caressed her shoulder, stroked along her back, and cupped the curve of her ass. His body thrummed with energy, crackled where they connected, and she sensed the enormous effort he channeled into maintaining a solid form.
Sawyer cleared his throat. "Would you two get a room?"
"Maybe we should clear out," Jake rumbled.
Breathing hard, they broke apart.
Aware of their audience, Victoria stepped back. She wanted nothing more than to drag Daniel off and have her way with him, to hold him and love him, to surrender to uninhibited ecstasy in his arms. They deserved to celebrate their reunion.
Her heavy heart guarded against the knowledge his return was temporary. Jake had commanded Hildr to remain for a reason. The Valkyrie would escort a soul to Valhalla. It simply wouldn't be Sawyer's.
Daniel eyed his father and brother and said sardonically, "Yeah, this isn't awkward."
"Weird doesn't begin—" Sawyer stopped.
Electricity cracked and arced across Daniel's skin, and he became transparent. He looked down, and a soft cry of alarm escaped his lips. "Damn it."
Victoria stepped closer, grabbing his arm. "Your pattern is unstable. What can I do to help?"
"What's wrong? Why can I see through you?" Sawyer barked out a sharp demand and extended his hand.
"I can't manifest like this for long." Daniel's gaze tracked his brother's fingers as they passed straight through his forearm. "Damn."
"What's happening?" Jake demanded, practical and to the point.
"Daniel's using a lot of energy to remain solid." As a priestess, Victoria communicated with and touched spirits, but most people couldn't perceive the spiritual realm. She had no idea of Jake's capacity or limitations, but Sawyer didn't possess second sight.
Daniel turned to his father, exuding calm and focus, but ripples traveled the length of his body, creating visual static like an interrupted signal. "Dad, I need to talk to you. It's important."
"You need a host," Victoria surmised. "I can do it."
"I'll do it." Insistent, Sawyer stepped closer.
"I'm better qualified," Victoria argued. "You don't know the first thing about channeling a spirit."
Sawyer glanced at her, brow knit, defiance in his eyes. "Yeah, well, I've got a dick."
Victoria's mouth dropped open. "You are a dick! That's asinine, and it's not even a real reason."
Sawyer snorted. "Yeah, well, ask Daniel which body he'd rather take up residence in, yours or mine?"
Jake snorted, suppressed laughter. "Children, stop fighting."
"Are they always like this?" Daniel asked, slanting a glance at his father.
"When they're not trying to kill each other," Jake said. "Daniel, what's your preference?"
Rocking back, his gaze shifted between Victoria and Sawyer. His eyes locked with hers, and he offered her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, baby, but I plan to kiss you goodbye, not my brother."
Warmth fluttered in her stomach. She glanced away to conceal her sudden involuntary smile. Affecting irritation, she grumbled. "Don't make assumptions, baby. You lied to me. We have things to discuss."
"I never lied. I omitted." Daniel seized her shoulders and covered her mouth, stealing a hard kiss, crushing her lips.
Quicksilver arousal quickened her core. Electricity sparked. Victoria clung to him, rising onto her toes to close the distance between them. Her fingertips pressed into his muscular chest. Passion and competition had always defined their relationship. Right from the start, it had been a contest of one-upmanship and coming out ahead.
In her heart, she'd already forgiven him. She'd always forgive him any transgression, but he didn't need to know that. He deserved to be sorry for a time. She damn well intended to make him work to earn the pardon.
Panting, they separated.
"Enough with the chick flick already," Sawyer complained, thrusting his arm toward his brother. "Here."
"Thanks, man." Daniel accepted Sawyer's hand. As soon as they touched, he disappeared from the physical world.
His ghost remained visible to Victoria's spirit sight. She witnessed the transition as Daniel entered his brother's body. Their spirits overlapped, one image atop the other like a double exposure. The blending worried her, left her wondering if they shared memories as well. She wasn't sure she wanted her deceased lover privy to all that his brother knew.
Or vice versa.
He performed a curious self-inspection and then ran his hands over his head, pushing his hair back. "I need a damn haircut."
"Been saying that for years," Jake rumbled.
Victoria took one look at that mischievous grin, and she knew Daniel had taken the driver's seat. Sawyer never smiled like that—a cat with canary feathers dripping off his whiskers. This was Daniel, the man she had fallen in love with.
Daniel traded a long look with her, tilting his head toward his father. His brow arched. "Give me a few minutes?"
She nodded. "Of course."
He turned to his father, indicating the exit. "Dad, let's talk."
The men left her alone in the ruined armory. Suddenly starving, Victoria went in search of food. She'd heard Jake mention a kitchen. If she couldn't find it, she'd shift and go rabbit hunting, although she craved pickles and potato chips.
Freya's laughter filled her mind. What are the odds of finding junk food in a kitchen stocked by men?
Startled, Victoria missed a step. Relief flooded her, and then a joyful smile curved her lips. "My guess is pretty darn good, Goddess."
Hildr is standing alone in the common area. Please go and speak with her and offer reassurances. Freya's voice carried more than a hint of insistence. It was a command.
A test. Or maybe just a peace offering.
"Of course, My Lady." Victoria hurried her steps. Her relationship might never be the same between her and Freya again, but she intended to do everything in her power to make the matter right no matter how long it took. Restitution would probably take years, but she'd already sworn her life in service to her goddess.
From the perimeter of an immense common room, Victoria gazed across dozens of long tables equipped to seat a hundred men. Beyond those, an entrance of double stainless steel doors presumably led to the galley. The dining area flowed into a recreation zone full of couches and chairs, all arranged before pool tables, dart boards, and wall-mounted flat screens.
In the far corner, a man's ghost bent over a pinball machine, seemingly oblivious to the Valkyrie behind him. His spectral form lacked definition, blurry about the edges, aura tinted a dull gray. He radiated dissatisfaction in jagged waves as he tried and failed to touch the buttons that flipped the paddles.
Hildr stood a couple feet behind the man, pleading with him. "Please, won't you speak with me? It is obvious your spirit is tormented…"
Curiosity whetted, Victoria crept up behind the pair. She halted a couple yards from them, observing their interaction in silence. Closer inspection revealed the ghost to be a middle-aged, Hispanic man who had been of average height and somewhat obese at the time of his death.
Primarily red, white and blue, the pinball table was themed Evel Knievel with a leather-wearing rider popping a wheelie on the back glass. Silver duct tape secured a handwritten Out of Order sign across the coin slots.
Hildr's voice sharpened with impatience as she tried to attract the spirit's attention again. "Sir, if you'll explain the circumstances of your death, I may be able to assist you in crossing over."
The man failed to respond. His clubbed fingers stabbed at the flipper buttons, passing through and penetrating the sides. A rumbled snarl of frustration tore from his throat. His anger i
nfused his form with a sudden burst of energy. For a couple seconds, he appeared completely solid in a pair of camouflage army surplus pants tucked into short black boots and a tan T-shirt with the sleeves torn off. A stylized dagger shone bright on his bicep, marking him as a hunter.
Self-conscious, Victoria rubbed her hand across the tattoo on her own arm. The uncomfortable reminder of her new connection to Jake's organization created a deep pang of dissonance. Any sort of new responsibilities made her uneasy, especially since she had no clue what they might be. She barely managed to juggle all of her current duties as Alpha, priestess, and Valkyrie. On top of that, she was about to become a mother. What new obligations did joining the hunters entail?
Edging closer, Hildr shuffled her feet and extended her hand toward the spirit. "As a Valkyrie, it is my duty to help you."
A crimson riptide ripped through the spirit's aura. Ignoring the Valkyrie, he kicked the front leg of the machine, but his foot passed right through the support. He shouted at the top of his lungs. "God damn, mother fucking, son of a bitch!"
As the litany continued, the hopping-mad spirit launched another attack upon the pinball table. His thick fists sank into the main body of the machine. With a sudden clash that disrupted the nether, the ghost dissolved into a thick gray column of smoke that was then sucked through the handwritten sign and into the steel front housing the coin slots.
Victoria blinked and spoke without thinking. "Wow. Talk about a Daffy Duck temper."
Huffing, Hildr spun to face her. The redhead's arm rose to a guard position, and her hand flew to the hilt of the dagger sheathed on her leather belt. Her curly tresses fell in tumbled disarray about her shoulders, appearing artfully disheveled.
Victoria held up her open hands to show she presented no threat. "Hildr, Freya directed me to see to your comfort until Jake is able to speak with you."
"Jake." Face scrunched, Hildr's lips puckered as if the name left a sour taste. Her confusion pinched her face into a worried frown. A distressed litany poured from her. "I don't understand what's going on. Why is he here? Playing mortal? He has sons with a mortal woman. I don't understand what any of this means. It just doesn't make sense." Hildr's troubled gaze locked with Victoria's. "Do you know what's going on?"
Battle Cry (Loki's Wolves Book 2) Page 27
