Valkyrie's Vengeance_Loki's Wolves

by Melissa Snark

  "Is it dead?" Michael asked.

  "Yes, it's dead," Victoria assured him. "Give me a sec, and I'll get you out of there." She stopped, staring up. Ceiling-mounted chains supported the cages, placing the locks well out of her reach. A burst of annoyance washed over her, and she swallowed a word inappropriate for young ears.

  "Stand on a barrel," Michael said.

  Victoria's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Good idea." She grabbed the empty steel drum that had been tipped over during the fight and dragged it toward the enclosures. Once she stood it on end, it served as an excellent makeshift ladder.

  She positioned it before Michael's cage first. Victoria fumbled with the locking mechanism which involved interlocking tumblers and finger placement. After a few minutes, she got the correct combination. The lock snapped open, and she pulled the doors wide.

  With a cry, Michael flew into her open arms. She hugged the small boy close and stroked the back of his head. He stank of filth and fear, but she didn't care. "Shh, it's okay, Michael. Your mother loves you. She sent me to save you."

  "My mother is dead," Michael said. "I saw the monster kill her."

  "Her spirit is watching over you." Victoria lowered him to the ground. "No matter what happens, always remember that, okay?"

  The child nodded. "I know."

  "Hang tight, buddy. I'm going to get the other kids free, okay?"

  Michael dipped his chin. "I'll be okay."

  Victoria's heart ached for him. The poor boy had no living family to return home to. He would probably wind up as a ward of the state and faced placement in foster care. She wished there were something more she could do for him, but it was out of her hands. She already had more people depending on her than she could protect.

  "What's your name, sweetie?" Victoria freed the little girl next and lowered her gently to the ground. The child's glassy eyes worried her.

  The girl's stare remained blank for a long moment, then she blinked and said, "Crystal."

  "Crystal, stay with Michael. You're going to be okay."

  Unbidden, Michael approached and took Crystal's hand in his own, freeing Victoria to deal with the final cage. Opening the doors, she pulled out a boy no older than three. "Vincent, let me help you out of there."

  The little one sobbed and clung to her but never spoke a word. Cradling the toddler against her chest, Victoria jumped down from the barrel. She landed squarely on both feet.

  Movement caught her peripheral vision. Victoria turned and found Jake standing close–too close for comfort. Clutching the boy tighter, she took a quick step backward. The hunter possessed uncanny stealth, another trait he shared with his son. Few people were able to sneak up on her.

  The man's features remained set in an unreadable mask. He studied the boy in her arms and then his gaze swept over the other two children. Michael and Crystal held hands, clinging to each other. Jake's clenched hands betrayed his inner turmoil, alluding to a tightly constrained anger.

  Victoria perceived sympathy and horror in his familiar brown eyes. For about the hundredth time, she reminded herself that he was the enemy, no longer her ally. She moved closer to the children and hovered protectively over them. Stepping forward, she laid her hand upon Michael's shoulder.

  Jake's gaze strayed to the cages, and his horror intensified. Upon seeing the conditions the children had been kept in, he swore, "Son of a—"

  "Language!" Her blue eyes narrowed, and she shot him a warning look over the top of the toddler's head. Her breath hissed between her teeth.

  "Beach," Jake finished lamely. Despite his reputation as a merciless killer, the hunter had a sense of decency.

  She smiled. Daniel's compassion and humanity were one of the things she'd loved best... Shit. She squeezed her eyes closed against a sudden onslaught of sorrow. She really needed to get a fucking grip and stop comparing Jake Barrett to his dead son.

  "We need to get the children out of here," Victoria said, casting a glance toward the krampus's decapitated body. Where had that head gone?

  "I agree." Jake spread his arms, herding Michael and Crystal before him. "Take them outside and tell them to wait. Then come back in. Skinner's hurt pretty bad. I've stopped the bleeding and stabilized him for the moment, but he needs a healer."

  Victoria's expression hardened. "Why the hell would I heal him?"

  Jake's jaw worked. His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "It'll go easier on you if you cooperate. Skinner is my best man, and I owe him. One way or another, you're going to help him."

  Victoria's heart palpitated. Shit. His lack of intonation scared her worse than any amount of shouting could have. How did the man manage to pack so much threat into such a monotone statement? At the same time, she found his choice of words interesting. Why was Skinner his best man, and not his second son, Sawyer?

  She stared at her enemy. She actually preferred to help over allowing a man to die, though it wasn't like he was offering her many options. She shrugged. "Fine, I'll do what I can."

  "You do that."

  Victoria offered Michael her hand and addressed the children, "I want you all to close your eyes. I’ll lead you outside."

  Michael's gaze darted toward the decapitated corpse they had to pass on their way out. His throat worked as he swallowed. His scent was thick with fear, but he held fast to his courage. He accepted Victoria's hand and clung to Crystal.

  "Okay," Michael said. "Let's go."

  Victoria’s heart swelled with fierce pride at his courage. The children closed their eyes. They continued to hold hands while she escorted them into the alley. A black SUV, presumably Jake's, was parked just outside the rear entrance. She located her mobile phone on the ground, stooped to pick it up, and started to slip it into a pocket. Only to realize she wasn't wearing jeans. Sighing, she settled for holding it.

  "I need for you to wait here. I have to go back inside because a man is hurt." Bending, Victoria passed the toddler to Crystal. The girl sat on the ground with her back against the wall and hugged the boy.

  The kids stared at her with fearful round eyes. Michael said, "Don't leave us alone."

  Victoria sighed and searched for the right words. If Jake was right about Skinner's condition, she didn't have much time. Yet, she was loath to rush off and leave the children unprotected.

  An anxiety-ridden bark interrupted whatever she'd been about to say. Startled, Victoria scanned the alley. Blessed relief filled her when she spotted the Rottweiler crouched between two trash bins. She'd thought the krampus had killed him. She whistled softly and patted her knee, issuing a summons.

  The Rottweiler whimpered. He rose and trotted forward, his head and tail lowered in a show of submission. The children regarded the animal with open curiosity and no fear. Victoria extended her hand, and the dog pushed his muzzle into her palm, licking her fingers.

  She caressed the dog's soft ears and leaned forward to whisper to him. "You're to stay with these children and protect them. Do you understand?"

  The dog's stubby tail wagged. Lifting her hand, Victoria urged the youngsters closer so they could touch him. "Michael, this is my friend. Go ahead and pet him."

  Michael hesitated, staring suspiciously at the dog. The other two children huddled behind him. His shaking hand rose slightly. "What's his name?"

  "He doesn't have one. He doesn't have an owner." A situation she desperately hoped was about to change. The dog and the boy both needed someone.

  "I've always wanted a dog." Michael was the first to approach, extending a nervous hand to stroke the Rottweiler's head. The dog's stubby tail wagged furiously, and the boy's confidence soared.

  "See, he likes you," Victoria murmured.

  Within seconds, a smile blossomed on Michael's face. "I'm going to call him Rascal."

  Her throat closed, and her heart ached. Her voice emerged as a dry rasp. "That's a good name."

  The other two children followed his lead, and soon enough all three kids were crowded around the dog. She waited for a coupl
e moments while they became acquainted.

  "I have to go inside," she said again. "But Rascal is going to watch over you. Will that be okay?"

  Michael looked up and squared his shoulders. "We'll be okay."

  She took a couple of steps, then hesitated. "I'll be right inside if you need me."

  The boy looked at her. "Go on," he said, putting his forehead against the dog's. "I've got this."

  Grinning, she turned back and almost walked straight into the mountain that was Jake Barrett. Eyes flashing, she pulled up. "Stop doing that!"

  He chuckled. "Pay more attention. Where did the mutt come from?"

  "The 'mutt' helped me find this place. Without him, we couldn't have rescued the children." Victoria's tone slipped toward testy. She disliked the implied slur against the dog.

  A grunt served as Jake's reply.

  Her impatience ratcheted another notch higher. Didn't the man have even the remotest sense of urgency? It was his injured friend, not hers, who awaited their return.

  He cleared his throat. "I got to thinking. The little ones shouldn't have to sit on wet pavement in the cold. They can wait in my car."

  "Oh." She huffed. His thoughtfulness took the wind right out of her sails. Under the pretext of helping Crystal and the toddler to rise, Victoria averted her gaze. Jake opened the rear door, and they placed the two children into the back seat.

  "Michael, come on." Victoria beckoned to the boy.

  Michael's arms tightened about the dog's neck. "Not without Rascal."

  A pleased smile tugged at her lips. She did her best to hide her smirk and failed in a spectacular way. She looked to Jake, one eyebrow arched in a silent question. Michael also turned his attention to the hunter.

  "Damn mutt probably has fleas." Grumbling, Jake assisted Michael and the dog into the backseat and closed the door. He circled to the back and opened the tailgate. When he returned, he had on a fresh shirt.

  She experienced a twinge of envy and wished she'd had the sense to bring a change of clothing. Typically, she had a go-bag for the occasions when she would have to shift. But in the excitement, the duffle had gotten left in the back of the pickup truck.

  Jake addressed Victoria. "Let's get back inside."

  She nodded and led the way.

  Chapter 11

  Skinner lay on his back atop a wooden pallet that got him off the wet concrete floor. A waded leather jacket pillowed his head, and the discarded remains of a small first aid kit littered the area.

  At a glance, Skinner appeared to be unconscious. Probably in shock. Victoria knelt beside him to confirm, checking his vitals. His breathing was shallow and his complexion pallid due to blood loss . His heart labored in his chest, each beat a valiant struggle for life.

  "You did a decent patch job," she said, inspecting the injury. Gauze bandages swathed the hunter's shoulder.

  "I've had a lot of practice," Jake said grimly. He knelt beside his friend. His tone reminded her that the hunters didn't have healers. They relied on traditional medicine. Their dangerous chosen profession made them no strangers to injury and death.

  She nodded absently and peeled away the wrappings. Her hands were steady even though she inwardly balked at the filthy conditions. The busy work settled her anxiety and provided a convenient, albeit short-lived, reprieve. She faced a dilemma. As a rule, her people did not use their gifts to benefit outsiders.

  Composing her thoughts, she opened herself in prayer. She reached for a spiritual connection with her goddess. My Lady? I need you. I have a big problem.

  Freya's warmth touched her. I've been watching.

  Any advice? Victoria removed the last of the bindings.

  Do you want advice or approval, Priestess?

  "Either," Victoria muttered. "Both."

  Across from her, Jake Barrett frowned. Those penetrating eyes locked on her face, and the man gave the impression of uncanny awareness. As if he could hear their entire conversation.

  Spooked, Victoria shuddered and dismissed the possibility. Her overactive imagination always got the better of her. Mouth open, Victoria lowered her face closer to Skinner's shoulder and inhaled his scent. Her wolf surfaced. Golden light spilled from her eyes, but her transformation progressed no further.

  Bracing, she summoned her healing magic. A soft halo emanated from her palms. The moment her fingers touched his bare skin, Skinner's life pattern lit up. She perceived the lacerations to flesh and muscle, internal bleeding, and shattered bones. He had lost an enormous amount of blood, and his body was in shock.

  "He's dying." Her mouth turned down at the corners. "I'm not sure I can save him."

  "I once saw your mother heal a man who'd been all but cut in half," Jake said. "She brought your father back from the dead."

  Victoria cut him off. "I'm not my mother. My skills as a healer are minimal. I can mend cuts and bruises—"

  "You help him!" Jake's eyes narrowed, and his fists rose even as his volume dropped to a dangerous low. He left the or else hanging, but the implied threat was clear.

  Distressed, Victoria reached again for Freya. Goddess? Please? Do I have your permission to do this?

  You didn't seek my permission when you attempted to heal Daniel.

  Taken aback, Victoria blinked. Her mouth opened. No sound emerged. Freya hadn't brought up Victoria's failed attempts to heal Daniel before he'd died. Not once in the last couple of weeks, not even a hint of disapproval or reprimand. Belatedly, she realized she should have sought permission. Bittersweet acknowledgement prevented her from apologizing.

  She'd do so all over again in a heartbeat.

  Freya sighed. Do what you must. Know this: I cannot heal him for you.

  I understand. Thank you, Goddess. Unshed tears stung her eyes. She lowered her face to hide her sorrow. The light flowing from her hands intensified, illuminating the man's injury. She extended her power and joined her soul to Skinner's. Concentrating, she drew his life pattern into synchronization with her own. Her steady heartbeat stabilized his erratic pulse.

  Even unconscious, the stubborn human fought her. He resisted her efforts to impose spiritual and physical harmony between them. Skinner gasped, and his entire body convulsed while he fought to shake off her touch. She employed her superior strength to hold him down so his struggles would not worsen the wound. Without the direct support of Freya or her pack, there was no margin for error.

  Damn it, she hated asking for help, but she had no other options. Scowling, Victoria extended an open hand toward Jake. "You know how this works. I'm already drained from the fight with the krampus, and my pack isn't here to help me."

  "Fuck that." Jake held back. Distrust tainted his scent. Negative sentiment streaked his aura.

  "He's your friend," Victoria said. "Do you want him to live?"

  The Hunter King was a storm about to rage. A fierce, brief battle waged across his countenance. In the end, loyalty won over hatred. He spat out a curse and grabbed hold of her hand, enveloping it within his callused grip.

  The moment they touched, Victoria reached for his power, seeking to forge a temporary bond between them. Under normal circumstances, she would have refused to even attempt it. The man was human and her enemy. This situation, however, was desperate. Besides, she doubted the connection could survive so much animosity for long.

  The force of his personality knocked her off kilter. Victoria gasped and almost dropped the fragile spell bridging their souls. For a human, Jake Barrett possessed a staggering amount of personal power. It was widely known the hunter commanded powerful magic, but he craftily concealed the true extent. Through some arcane art, not just hundreds, but thousands of men were mystically bound to him. Superficially, their connection resembled the pack bond in underlying structure. She'd have loved to explore it further. Even if she had that ability, there was no time.

  Tuning out the others, she concentrated on the Hunter King. At the center of his soul, she encountered a core of pure pain, agonizing sorrow for the death of hi
s son... and so much anger. She hurt for him and with him, and yet she wanted nothing more than to rip his beating heart from his breast. He had killed her parents and many members of her pack.

  A good man, but also a vengeful man.

  She must never forget. Tears stung her eyes, and her throat closed. Through an act of will, Victoria shoved her personal feelings down deep and sealed them behind a wall. Instead of turning from Jake Barrett's hatred, she embraced it. She summoned and channeled the dark emotions, transforming them into healing energy.

  Victoria mapped out the major severed blood vessels and halted the internal bleeding. She repaired the most vital veins and arteries first. Then she strengthened the bone in his shattered shoulder blade. Her technique was crude. If he lived, he would still require medical attention.

  Too quickly, she depleted her reserves, leaving her weakened. Jake's true potential remained almost untapped, and that frightened her worse than ever before. The Hunter King wasn't a mere mortal, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know more about him.

  Gasping, Victoria let go of Jake's hand and severed the bond uniting them. She maintained her connection to Skinner long enough to verify he would live. For magical healing, her work qualified as battle field triage. She had done what was necessary to keep the man alive until he could receive proper treatment.

  She removed her hands from Skinner's chest and allowed the magic to dissipate. "He'll live, for now. You need to get him to a doctor," she said, looking at Jake. "I couldn't fix everything."

  The man's expression was unreadable. He stared at her with hard eyes and nodded. "Those children need to be taken to safety too. We'll take them in and then we'll go get your boy."

  Balking, Victoria shot to her feet. "No. No way. I'm not walking into an area full of your men and getting shot on sight."

  Clenched jaws and gleaming eyes signaled the return of his anger. "My men will obey me."