by PJ Friel
“Bryn, the alarm.”
A drop of sweat slid down from my temple. I took a step back towards the door. The security lights’ sensors had finally kicked in, offering me a ray of sparkling salvation. Had to escape this death box.
This place was not good. Not safe. I never should have come in here. Things waited for me in dark warehouses.
What are you most afraid of, little Brynja?
Something skittered off to the right.
I drew my gun and pointed it at...nothing.
“Bryn, what’s going on?” Trygg asked.
His voice dangled in front of me, a lifeline that I used to pull myself out of the void. But then he moved toward me, spooked me.
I swung the gun, aimed it at him. “Stop! Don’t come near me!”
He raised his hands. “Whoa. What’s going on here? I’m one of the good guys. Remember?”
“No, you’re not. You’re one of them.”
Trygg sucked in a breath and blinked rapidly, then he took a step towards me.
“Don’t.” The weight of the gun in my hands felt good, secure. It gave me control.
He reversed direction, taking two steps back, and cleared his throat. “Easy. It’s just you and me here. I’m Trygg, remember? Everything’s fine.”
That voice again, blocking out the buzz in my head. I wanted to latch onto it, latch onto him. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood and the pain shocked me to my senses.
He was still holding his gun.
I motioned at him. “Put down the gun.”
He kneeled and placed it on the floor. It was too close to him and he was too close to me.
“Kick it to the side and then back away.”
“Sure. Okay, Bryn.” He gave the gun a healthy kick, sending it spinning off into the shadows, then edged backwards, his eyes never leaving mine.
There was something about his eyes. I shook my head. “That’s far enough.”
“All right.” He stopped moving and smiled at me. “Do you think you could turn off the alarm, Bryn? I’d like to hear what you have to say, but all that beeping is distracting. Don’t you think?”
Alarm? The beep, beep, beep that had been white noise in my head. Now that he’d drawn my attention to it, it became an annoyance that needed to stop. I glared at him.
“If you move, I’ll shoot you.”
He shrugged as if the thought of hot lead burying itself in his body was a perfectly reasonable expectation. I punched in the alarm code.
“Thank you, Bryn.”
“You can stop saying my name. We’re not building a rapport here.”
The alarm was silent. Trygg was unarmed and not so close. The dim atmosphere still jangled my nerves, but I was dealing.
I was in control.
Kind of.
But now I was back to having no effing plan.
“So, what exactly are we doing here?”
Good question. I hated him for asking it.
“I know what you are.”
“You said I’m one of them. What does that mean?”
“You’re an Outlander.”
His eyes widened. “How the hell do you know that?”
I wasn’t a Jotun or a Vanir. I shouldn’t have been able to tell what he was, but the lovely coming-of-age gift from my adoptive parents had given me the ability to see all Outlanders. A combination of runes and intent became a permanent spell, breakable only by the caster. Only a select few had access to that level of magic. Lucky me, my adoptive parents fell into that category.
“Tell me who you are.” I leaned forward.
“You first.”
“I have the gun.”
He leaned against one of the metal girders running in a row down the length of the warehouse. Light from outside splashed across his face. “I don’t respond well to threats.”
His tone sounded almost amused. It made me want to shoot him. “Do you respond well to bullets?”
He actually grinned, a flash of white teeth. “Is that a threat?”
I gripped the gun tighter. “Wanna find out?”
“What I’d like to find out is why you’re holding a gun on me. I haven’t done anything.”
“Stop playing innocent.”
He raked a hand through his hair and for the first time, looked disgruntled. “I am innocent.”
I scoffed.
“Relatively speaking.”
“Tell me who you are.”
He sighed. “My name is Trygg Mackenzie. We were just introduced.”
“Who do you work for?”
“This is ridiculous. You know—”
“Who do you work for?” My raised voice echoed in the warehouse.
“I work for Mordechai Hinterland. I’m his head of security. You already know this.”
I did, but these questions allowed me to form a baseline on him. To catalogue his physical responses when he told the truth so I could detect when he lied to me.
“What was the purpose of this meeting?”
He spread his arms out. “We’re doing it right now. Looking at this building.”
Truth.
“Is that Mr. Hinterland’s only plan here tonight?”
“The only one that I was informed of, yes.”
True again.
“So, he doesn’t have plans to hurt me or Dezi?”
Trygg blinked at me. “What?”
“Does Mordechai Hinterland have plans—”
“No. I would never allow that.”
That shocked me. I hadn’t taken my eyes off his face and he’d shown none of the signs of someone who was being deceitful. No rapid blinking. No ticks. No fidgeting. Not one little micro-expression or verbal phrasing that would put the lie to his words. Even his aura reacted the same.
“He’s your boss.”
Trygg’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care. I would never, ever hurt you.”
“Either of us?”
“Either of you.”
Lots of people said that.
“You don’t believe me,” he said.
I shrugged, mildly surprised that he’d picked up on that. “You think you mean it.”
“I do. Now, will you please lower the gun?”
I considered it. But if he was telling the truth, why was his aura still going crazy? Not that I could ask him. No one else needed to know about my ability.
“You were nervous out there when you shook my hand. Why?”
Trygg’s cheeks flushed, but he kept his mouth shut.
“Your boss seemed pretty impatient to get this tour over with, but if you want to hang out here all night, not answering my questions, I don’t have anything else planned.”
Except racing back to my apartment and curling up in the middle of a dozen or so lamps.
He growled. “Have you seen you?”
“What?”
Now he looked really disgruntled. “You’re beautiful.”
I lowered the gun. “You say that to every woman who holds you at gunpoint?”
“You’re my first. Most women would rather kiss me.”
I opened my mouth to tell him how conceited he was when I heard Dezi scream.
CHAPTER 6
TRYGG
I grabbed at Bryn, but she bolted past me and out of the warehouse. My head spun with the bombshell that I’d just been held at gunpoint by Brynja Aren Pruedatter. She may call herself Bryn Ullman, but I’d finally recognized her for who she was. Outlander royalty. And she’d just run headlong into danger. If she died on my watch there would be Hel to pay. Literally.
“Goddamn it.” I searched for my gun, gaze darting around the room. Where the fuck was it? Why had I kicked it so hard?
Bryn’s voice sliced through my distraction. “Freeze! Drop the guns or I’ll shoot!”
“Shit.”
To hell with my gun. I didn’t need it to put down an attacker. A couple of slugs to the chest wouldn’t kill me. Odin built his berserkers to last.
I thundered out of the
warehouse and into complete chaos, coming to a dead halt at the sight of Bryn and two men in ski masks facing off against each other, hurling words and aiming weapons.
Their smell seared my nose. Jotuns, but not like me. Rich earth frozen under the blizzardy scent of snow. Human. Half-human, both of them. Two mixed-blood thugs facing off against a princess.
I should play the lottery.
Mordechai lay sprawled on the ground, blood dripping from his mouth.
A growl ripped from my throat.
One of the thugs stood over my mentor, his trembling hand holding a gun pointed at Mordechai’s chest. The other guy held Dezi beside the open door of her SUV. He jammed his gun into her side and made her jerk and cry out.
“You hurt her, you’re dead!” Bryn’s voice rang out, her unsteady tone from the warehouse replaced with a cracking whip of authority.
DG was nowhere in sight.
I drew in a deeper breath to lock in the gunmen’s scents. A couple of ski masks wouldn’t protect their identities. I sorted through the scents—cheap burger grease, menthol cigarettes, unwashed male. And, more faintly from the other guy, the acrid stench of fear and Cuervo.
“You don’t want to do this, man,” I said from my spot behind Bryn. “If you leave now, no one has to get hurt here.”
Here being the operative word. I would stalk them until I found them elsewhere and then I’d make them pay.
Kid Cuervo, standing above Mordechai, jerked. His gun hand trembled harder when he looked at me. My leg muscles coiled. I would have chanced a lunge in his direction if he wasn’t such a goddamn twitchy amateur.
Mordechai’s hand slid slowly inside his jacket. “Just take my wallet and go.”
Kid Cuervo jabbed the gun at Mordechai. “Stop moving!”
Holey jeans, vintage-looking band t-shirt, voice squeaking like puberty was barely in his rearview. Probably his first time robbing someone. The nickname I’d given him in my head fit.
Gang initiation, maybe?
He’d fucked up picking Mordechai as his first mark.
“Stick to the plan, G!” Burger Boy’s voice snapped across the parking lot.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” Kid’s head whipped back and forth. Mordechai. Bryn. Me. He settled on his friend.
“Doesn’t matter! Follow the fucking plan or else!”
I raised my hand towards the baby thug. “Just calm down.”
Spooked, his arm jerked up and he fired two shots at me. The bullets screamed across the distance. Bryn was in the way.
Rage poured through my bloodstream. I saw black. When the darkness cleared, I was on the wrong side of the bars, a passenger in my own body. The Monster I’d successfully locked away for four years burst out of its cage with a deafening roar.
In full control of my form, the Monster wrapped itself around Bryn and spun, sacrificing my back to the incoming lead. My body became her armor.
Searing heat radiated from the slugs buried in my shoulder. The Monster growled into Bryn’s neck and my lips brushed her warm skin. Her sweet scent flooded my senses, feeding the Monster’s hunger. Then the copper stench of my blood tainted her smell.
Bryn pivoted around me. “Dezi, down!”
Dezi dropped to the ground as Bryn fired off two rounds. One bullet whizzed by, but the other hit its target. Burger Boy dropped his gun, blood blooming on his shoulder.
He charged at his friend and grabbed his arm. “Run, you fucking idiot!”
I tensed. Feral rage ruled the Monster. I had no control over it. All I’d be able to do was spectate and listen to the butchery once it caught its prey.
Bryn raced over to Dezi.
The Monster’s focus split for a moment.
Mordechai’s voice cut through the tribal drum pounding in my ears. “Trygg, stand down!”
My mentor staggered to his feet. The Monster cocked my head and snarled. Mordechai’s command compelled it, but it had prey to hunt.
Mordechai pointed his finger. His voice cracked like a whip. “That’s an order!”
My gaze locked with his. The Monster’s control slipped. Frantic, I pushed against the bars. If I didn’t grab the reins now, I might never get them back. How had this happened after four years of rigid control?
The Monster growled low in my chest, but it was weakening.
“You can do it,” Mordechai said, approaching me calmly and unhurried.
I grasped desperately at the lifeline my mentor threw me, heartbeat drumming in my ears. Suddenly, I was standing outside the cage and the Monster had taken my place. No, its place. Back in the cage. A groan of relief escaped my chest. I straightened and clasped Mordechai’s forearm.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “That was close.”
He nodded. “I never had a doubt.”
His eyes told a different story. Worry etched deep lines around his eyes. My next meditation session with him would be longer and more intense, like the ones we’d had when I’d first started working with him.
“You’ve been hit,” he said.
“I’ll be fine.”
“I know that, but if Dezi and her friend notice, they won’t understand why you’re not headed for a hospital.”
Bryn was oblivious to our conversation. She focused on her friend, examining her for wounds, while Dezi shook her head and straightened her clothes. They’d both escaped unharmed. Mordechai had as well, for the most part. Things could have turned out so much worse. Especially for the two thugs who had threatened us.
“Right. I need to go track down my gun. It’s back in the warehouse,” I told Mordechai.
“Why is your gun in the warehouse?” he asked, giving me a confused look.
“Long story. Maybe you can convince them to leave while I’m in there?”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to take them back. I didn’t want Bryn to leave. Did I? The Monster rattled the bars of the cage. No. It didn’t want Bryn to leave. I needed her as far away from me as possible.
“I’ll handle the business out here, then I want you to bring me those sons of bitches. Alive.”
Mordechai brushed the dirt off his suit and pulled out his handkerchief to wipe the blood from his mouth. He gestured towards the warehouse. I fled for the door while he made his way to Bryn.
The SUV door opened and I heard DG’s voice. “What’s going on? I was on the phone.”
I ignored him and walked inside, content to let Mordechai deal with his son and the two women. Never seeing Brynja Pruedatter again would be the best thing for me.
The last time I’d seen her had been nineteen years ago. I still had nightmares about what the Monster had done that night.
CHAPTER 7
BRYN
I rolled my eyes at Hinterland’s oblivious playboy son and tucked Dezi at my back. I wasn’t sure how Hinterland senior was going to react to nearly being killed. There was every possibility that he’d think we were involved.
Dezi peeked out around me. “Are you okay, Mr. Hinterland?”
“I’m fine, thanks to Ms. Ullman. Her quick response saved us all.” Hinterland’s tone was velvety and warm. It said, “Believe me. I’m your friend.”
I wasn’t falling for it, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t use his goodwill to get what was best for Dezi and me.
“It was nothing your security wouldn’t have done.” If he hadn’t been playing flirty games with me. “Where is he, anyway?”
“He’s securing the warehouse, making sure that there aren’t more assailants inside,” Hinterland answered smoothly.
And looking for that gun I made him kick across the floor.
DG wandered over to us. “I don’t know why you continue to employ that guy, Father. He’s completely incompetent.”
My hackles rose. I could diss Trygg all I wanted. He and I were similar, both of us running towards danger to protect others. The spoiled, rich Don Juan needed to shut his face. I opened my mouth to ask DG what he was doing while his father had a gun being
waved in his face.
Hinterland pinned his son with a heated look before I could say a word. “DG, go back to the car and finish your phone calls.”
The younger man’s neck muscles bulged and he looked ready to explode, but then he spun on his heel and stormed back to the car, ducked inside.
“My apologies, ladies. I think you’ll agree it’s been a difficult evening. If you’ll give me the keys, I’ll have Trygg lock up.”
“Lock up? What about the police? We need to file a report,” Dezi argued.
I shot one glance at the quickly disappearing sun and reached into my pocket. “No, we don’t. Everyone is fine and we never saw their faces. The police will never catch those guys. It’s a waste of time.”
Dezi grabbed my hand. “Fine, but I can’t leave the keys. The owner of the building—”
“Will be happy to hear that you sold it to me.” Hinterland turned his direct gaze on Dezi.
He was buying the building? If I wasn’t so anxious to get out of here, I’d question his motives.
“Sold?” Her voice squeaked with excitement.
“We don’t need to haggle about the price. We both know I’m good for it, yes?”
“Uh…y-yes.” Dezi nodded. “They’ll be thrilled.”
I shoved the keys into Hinterland’s hand and pushed Dezi towards the passenger side of the car before he changed his mind. I was driving. Granny speed would kill me.
“I’ll send DG to sign the papers tomorrow. And as a thank you for your cooperation, I’d like you and Ms. Ullman to join me in my box seats at the Theater of War tomorrow evening.”
“That’s not necessary,” I said through the open door while starting the car.
“I insist.” Hinterland’s gaze clashed with mine and we silently battled. “I’d be very disappointed if you didn’t join me.”
“Bryn loves mixed martial arts,” Dezi cooed at the middle of our showdown. “See you tomorrow night.”
I snarled at her, slammed the door, dropped the car into drive, and peeled out.
Dezi grabbed the oh jesus bar. “Whoa! What the hell, Bryn?”
“We’re not socializing with him, Dez. Hinterland is not someone you want to get into bed with.”
I whipped right out of the parking lot and tore off down Romig Road. The only thing keeping me from flying out of my body was my grip on the steering wheel.
