Her brow furrowed. "I don't have to understand the how or why, and it's not our place to question."
Hildr's eyes widened, lips parting. "But he has sons."
Victoria sucked down a deep breath. If she thought about it, really thought about it, the potential ramifications left her staggered, but opened up many questions. Had her father and mother known the truth about Jake? How deep did the conspiracy of silence go? She shared all of Hildr's questions and concerns, but an overwhelming sense of caution silenced her. There were too many dangers, too many unknowns.
"You're here to escort one of his sons to Valhalla," Victoria said even as her heart ached within her breast and tears pricked at her eyes. Daniel. Finally getting her beloved back only to lose him again so soon was destroying her.
The redhead's face closed up, growing guarded. "Yes, it is a great honor."
"A great honor," Victoria echoed dully. They were talking about the soul of the man she loved. Overcome with sorrow, she cleared her throat. Reaching out, she took Hildr's elbow. "Come into the kitchen, and I'll try to find us some tea."
Hildr stiffened, offering initial resistance, but then she submitted and followed Victoria through the dining area and through the swinging double doors. Together, they entered a galley full of stainless steel cabinetry and appliances. A massive walk-in freezer stood alongside an equally enormous fridge, opposite a pantry the size of a bedroom. In full swing, it probably took a staff of twenty to keep the entire operation running smoothly.
Inside the pantry, Victoria flipped on the light switch and gazed at the floor to ceiling shelves that were loaded with enough canned and dried food to feed an army. She released a long whistle. "Wow. It looks like they're ready for the end of the world."
"From what I'm hearing, that may be coming sooner than we all expect." Hildr's low voice contained a distinct tone of doom 'n gloom.
Abandoning her search for tea, Victoria swiveled on her heel. Her chest constricted, and she automatically crossed her arms over her breasts. She took a breath and asked, "Why are you here, Hildr?"
Hildr blinked, and then answered by rote. "I'm here to gather the soul of the warrior slain in combat and escort him to Valhalla."
The corners of her mouth tugged in displeasure. She lacked patience with games like 20 Questions, and her sister Valkyrie struck her as either willfully dense or evasive. "Yes, yes," Victoria said. "But why were you sent when I'm already here?"
The redhead's eyes widened. "I didn't know you were here. I was only following orders..."
"Whose orders then?"
"Ráðgríðr sent me. She offered no explanations, and I did not ask. She does not appreciate it when her orders are questioned."
Victoria's face pinched. "I understand."
"Good." Hildr nodded.
Ráðgríðr was the High Valkyrie in charge of all others who reported directly to Freya. Victoria seldom interacted with the autocratic woman, and she preferred to keep it that way.
Victoria returned to the pantry and used the act of searching to disguise her disquiet. While she looked, her mind churned the matter. Was Hildr's presence evidence of Freya's doubt in her priestess-Valkyrie? Or did it indicate something more sinister going on behind the scenes?
At long last, she located a small box of assorted teas smashed between mega-sized containers of coffee beans and instant coffee. "What's your preference?" she asked, strolling out of the pantry as she sorted through the bags. "We've got Earl Gray, green, Lipton—"
Hildr offered her a tense smile. "Just black tea, please."
"Of course." Schooling her features to a polite front, Victoria fished out the appropriate bags and set about finding a pot for warming water. The next hour or so promised to be awkward and left her wondering just how long the men would be.
"Another three inches." Signaling with his hand, Jake indicated Daniel to continue backing the Chevelle into the compound's vehicle maintenance bay. Once the muscle car reached the correct position, he reversed the gesture to signal his son to stop. "That's it."
A Humvee slated for routine maintenance occupied the next bay over. The retractable steel-plated doors of the garage remained open to allow exhaust fumes to escape.
Daniel set the emergency brake and left the engine idling. He climbed from the vehicle, circling around to meet his father at the front end. Reaching under the hood, he popped it manually. Hefty springs kept the lid propped up.
"Do you hear that? The timing's off." Cocking his head, Daniel listened intently to the engine rev. His hand caressed the gleaming red fender. "What the hell has Sawyer been doing to you, baby?"
Jake chuckled. "He signed the pink slip over to Victoria."
His son's head jerked to the side. His eyes widened, and his lips parted. "You're kidding."
"I'm not. It's a long story, but the Chevelle rightfully belongs to her now. Is that a problem?" Jake watched his oldest son, curious about his reaction to the news.
Daniel huffed his outrage. "No, it's not a problem. I like the idea of her having the Chevelle. We had a hell of a lot of good times in this car. But damn it, Dad, Victoria knows less about maintaining a fine machine than Sawyer."
His chest shook. Through intense self-control, Jake suppressed his laughter. "I'll drop by to perform regular maintenance checks."
"You do that." Daniel's hooded stare conveyed layered meanings. He stepped away to open the drawer of the large red toolbox against the wall and returned with a wrench. "I think the distributor has come loose."
"Might be a plug wire." Savoring their last moments together, Jake watched while his son leaned over the engine. They'd never work on a classic car again, or talk sports. Not in this lifetime...
Jake went to the garage's refrigerator and retrieved two beers. Returning, he uncapped both and offered one to his son. "Tell me about the bastard who imprisoned your soul in that ruby."
Daniel finished adjusting the distributor. He took a long pull from his bottle before he answered. "There's a master pulling the strings from behind the scenes. Vildivia worked for him."
"The Necromancer?" Jake asked.
"Yeah, that's what he called himself." His gaze distant, Daniel stared down at the engine, and his knuckles turned white on the bottle. "I never got a good look at him, but I'll never forget his voice. He spent a lot of time jerking me around."
Jake stroked the bristle along his jawline, rubbing the four days of growth that had accumulated since the last time he'd had a moment to shave. "What'd he do?"
Daniel's lips compressed, and he remained silent for an indeterminate time. "Whatever he could to fuck with me. He let me out long enough to stop Victoria from killing Sawyer, but then he turned around and threatened to make me beg her to kill him. He had absolute control over everything I said or did while I was out of the gemstone. The rest of the time he left me to rot in that hellhole."
Jake tensed, disliking the turn the conversation had taken. "Did he hurt you?"
Daniel's face froze, and he took a steadying breath. "Nah. He screwed with my head. He wanted information about you and about your organization. He tried to break me..."
Jake opened his mouth and then closed it again. His son's murder and the imprisonment infuriated him. That Daniel preferred lying to admitting to having been hurt—it broke his heart. Molten lava rage built within, far beneath the obsidian exterior he showed to the world.
"I didn't tell him anything, Dad."
"I know you didn't, Daniel." He placed his hand on his son's shoulder, offering support. Silently, he vowed revenge, but vengeance talk wasn't what his son needed to hear.
Following a couple more adjustments, the Chevelle's engine settled into a contented purr. Daniel lowered the hood and ran a loving hand over the driver's side fender. His voice dropped to a murmur. "Feeling better now, baby?"
Heart aching, Jake chuckled.
Daniel set the beer aside. Leaning into the driver's side window, he switched off the ignition. "We need to discuss Victoria."
Jake deemed a diplomatic approach best, so he nodded. "I'm listening."
Daniel's stance shifted, openly aggressive. "Funny. I thought you'd have something to say after you discovered I'd broken your rules about fraternization with the Storm Pack."
"I'd say it went a hell of a lot further than fraternization." An involuntary smile tugged at Jake's mouth. His sons were trained in the art of combat and exposed to battle at an early age. As the eldest, Daniel had always been out front, leading the pack. He confronted every challenge head on, and yet father and son seldom disagreed on anything. In contrast, headstrong Sawyer had always been more of a lone wolf than a team player, and he challenged Jake at every turn.
Yet, it was Daniel who broke the biggest rule of all.
"That's your reaction?" Daniel arched his brow.
"I'll admit, I was shocked once I realized who your girl was," Jake drawled. "Unlike your brother, you bent the rules from time to time but never outright broke them."
Daniel inhaled sharply. "The first time I laid eyes on Victoria, I knew she was the one, and I intended to claim her no matter what. You know I have nothing but respect for you, Dad..."
Despite himself, Jake smiled. "But?"
"But there are times when you're dead wrong and no one can tell you anything."
Jake sighed. "Now you sound like Sawyer."
"Yeah, well this is one hundred percent me," Daniel insisted. "I hope you know that."
"I do." Jake's heart ached. "Why didn't you confront me outright instead of sneaking around with her for almost a year?"
"Because I needed time to convince her that we belonged together. We were almost there when I got—" Voice cracking, Daniel cut off whatever he'd been about to say. Swallowing, he looked away and then resumed after a moment. "I planned to ask her to marry me over the Christmas holiday. I had two weeks of vacation coming. I wanted to take her down to Baja and propose on the beach."
Hurting for his son, he nodded. "I guessed as much. At first I blamed her for your death—"
"Well, you shouldn't," Daniel interrupted. "She did everything in her power to save me."
"I worked through that," Jake continued evenly. "I've done my best to do right by her. I've paid blood price for the wrongful death of that boy."
"I can't believe how fucked-up things got after I died." Head down, Daniel stared at the Chevelle, perhaps using the car as a window into his boyhood when things had been simpler.
Jake hated pushing, but certain things had to be cleared up. "I'm worried about Sawyer. Guilt is eating him alive, and he can't let it go."
"I'm worried too." Daniel looked nauseated.
"You can't tell your girl," Jake said. "Even with the debt settled, there's no telling what she might do."
Daniel's dark eyes flashed. "I know that. The whole situation just makes me sick..."
Relieved to have his son's cooperation, Jake nodded. "I don't like deceiving Victoria, but I have to protect your brother. I've tried to make things right by solidifying the ties between the Storm Pack and my organization."
"Those are political choices designed to make your position stronger." His son's tone carried accusation and anger.
A severe reprimand on the tip of his tongue, Jake opened his mouth to bark out a sharp rebuke. But the way his son looked at him made him hesitate. Daniel's words had the ring of truth. Ultimately, Jake put the best interests of himself, his family, and his people first. It just so happened his plans also benefitted Victoria and her wolves.
He had enemies on all sides, closing in like hungry wolves hot on the scent of blood. The identity of the unknown necromancer troubled him most. Not many creatures were powerful enough to open portals to the underworld and pull through revenants, or to steal a man's soul and enchant it into a gemstone.
Was his greatest enemy at play?
As much as he longed to confide in Daniel regarding his troubles, Jake remained silent. His son would have duties in Valhalla which would exceed mortal concerns. Burdening him with knowledge he couldn't act on would be cruel.
As a loving and faithful father, his first duty was to fulfill his oldest son's final wishes. "What would you have me do?" Jake asked Daniel. "Ask, and it is done."
Daniel calmed, acquiring focus. "I want you to remember this is the woman I love, the woman I intended to marry. She should have been the mother of my children. I need to know that you're looking out for her, because I won't be able to."
"Does Victoria know all this?" Jake hedged, weighing the full implications. His son had pulled out all the stops and made it a family matter. An ocean lay between ally and daughter-in-law, and it sounded like Daniel wanted him to cross it.
"No, and I'm not going to tell her. It wouldn't be fair," Daniel said, tone serious. "She has her entire life in front of her. Mine is over."
"I see." The boy's decision was half-assed and pathetically noble, and also completely wrong. However, Jake kept his opinion to himself. If it made things easier for Daniel, then his son was entitled to whatever rationalization he needed to make.
"This way she won't always be looking back. She'll get over me and move on." Shoulders squared, Daniel looked down, swallowing convulsively. "Maybe someday we'll be reunited, and I'll tell her everything then."
In a flash, the prophecy of his own death loomed in Jake's mind. A great black wolf howled, a maddened wail of ferocity and fury, mouth gaping wide enough to swallow worlds. He died between those slavering jaws, and a woman cried, tears falling from her cool blue eyes. The future, unchanging and inevitable.
Heart breaking, Jake hugged his son. "You have my word, Daniel. I'll watch over her."
Hot tears dashed down Daniel's cheeks, and he croaked. "Thanks, Dad."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Fólkvangr, Freya's hall in Sessrúmnir
"Dirty little lying miscreant," Freya swore, curses falling from her lips like petals from the rose. Marching ahead at full tilt, she pushed aside the heavy velvet curtains separating the bath from her sleeping chambers and plowed straight into her new general.
Arik Koenig stood just beyond the drapery, arms crossed over his broad chest. Startled, Freya released a cry and twisted so her shoulder smacked his sternum. Even so, her full weight failed to move him.
In an undignified display, the goddess reeled backward, hands raised in a defensive gesture. Seconds later, she recovered. Anger replaced her surprise and covered a thick sludge of her underlying fear. Hot spots appeared in her cheeks, and her thoughts raced. She wondered how much of her conversation with Loki he had overheard.
Fuming, Freya damned Loki for the inopportune timing and inconvenient venue of his visit. The Trickster's lack of common sense was appalling. Arik Koenig was more than just another gorgeous body she'd taken to her bed. The Alpha werewolf possessed a keen, deadly intellect. Perhaps she'd made a dangerous mistake in allowing him to gain so much power so swiftly. She didn't know him well enough to predict his loyalties when the conflict finally came to a confrontation.
"I'm sorry, Goddess. I didn't mean to startle you." Arik's voice flowed rich and golden like his honey-colored irises. "You seem upset. May I ask what's happened?"
"Nothing of consequence. I apologize for having awoken you." Smoothing her hair, Freya searched his handsome face for any trace of anger or malice. She found his expression to be pleasant and neutral, but the scrutiny of those penetrating eyes unsettled her.
"It's time for me to inspect the troops and see that all is in order. With your leave..." Arik offered a flourished bow, remarkably eloquent for a man of the modern era.
Freya dismissed her worries as Loki-induced paranoia. Obviously, Arik hadn't witnessed anything untoward. "Of course, but one thing…"
Arik's brow arched in silent inquiry.
The goddess smiled coyly. "I might suggest you don a pair of pants."
"As you will, My Lady."
Midgard
Perched on the edge of a stainless steel credenza, Victoria nodded her head a
nd smiled while Hildr paced a trough in the galley's polished cement floor. The redhead weaved a seemingly endless web of pointless chatter. She carried the entire conversation without any apparent expectation of input aside from the occasional nod or smile.
An hour later, Victoria's frustration had grown to the point where she was seriously contemplating pummeling Hildr into silence. Where ruthless hunters, wicked witches, and evil vampires failed to destroy the final vestiges of her sanity, the other Valkyrie's incessant talking threatened to be her undoing.
"I've never seen Sif so angry." Hildr's expansive hand and arm gestures served to emphasize the portrayed outrage of Thor's wife.
On cue, Victoria mustered a strangled chuckle, forcing her lips into a polite smile. Thank the goddess, Hildr lacked a nose sensitive enough to detect lies as well as the perceptiveness necessary to interpret body language. She seldom encountered anyone as dense. Cutting the neophyte Valkyrie some slack was the kind and appropriate thing to do, but Victoria detested gossip.
Freya's laughter chimed through her mind. Victoria, be nice. Hildr is your sister Valkyrie. She is worthy of your patience.
Yes, My Lady.
Exhaling so her nostrils flared, Victoria mustered more interest in Hildr's monologue as she moved on to regaling the epic extent of Sif's tantrum. The woman shrieked and bounced, gesticulating wildly as she pantomimed Thor's wife in a highly unflattering light.
Victoria's lower lip curled down. She liked Sif. The goddess was sweet and kind, and good.
A visceral tug from deep in her gut set Victoria to squirming atop the credenza. Instinctively resisting the unknown pull, she tuned Hildr out and focused her attention inward. It took a couple seconds to identify the source of her discomfort—a summons through the pack bond.
Sawyer.
Battle Cry (Loki's Wolves Book 2) Page 28
