Valkyrie Crowned

by Allyson Lindt

  The redirected conversation was the opposite of no games. “Why do you want us here?”

  “Can you do the same with your other powers?” Vidar asked.

  “Why do you want us here?”

  Vidar raised an eyebrow. “You wrapped a shield around Magnus earlier, to keep her from getting shot. When you healed her, she was able to do the same for a short time. What else can you do that with?”

  Ah. He was under some delusion she could make his soldiers more powerful.

  Could she? Not that she would for him, but if she could share this with another individual. Brit, maybe? The notion clawed at her with doubt and hope and tasted acidic. “I doubt it. When there were more than me, did you ever see a Valkyrie do something like that?”

  “I saw a Valkyrie grant her lover immortality because she couldn’t bear to watch him die.” Vidar stared at her, unflinching.

  “I didn’t give Starkad my power. I simply refused to take him to Valhalla.”

  Vidar’s expression was marble. “You think Odin punished you for that? Refusing to grant Starkad a warrior’s afterlife hasn’t kept him alive for a thousand years. He’s stubborn, and the fight means more than anything to him, but last I checked, force of will doesn’t grant immortality. What about the wings? Can you share those?”

  “No.” Could she? Kirby would hate this doubt, if she wasn’t fascinated by the possibility. Whatever she’d done to Magnus hadn’t lingered. When she inflicted pain on others, she could take it away again. And Brit was right here, a willing subject. Kirby stood and tugged Brit to her feet. “You ready for this?”

  Brit was practically humming with anticipation when she nodded. Or that was the electricity that flowed between them. Kirby had no idea how this worked, but focus tended to be most effective when she summoned anything Valkyrie. She pictured Brit with wings. Armor. Glorious and vibrant. They’d fight side-by-side so well.

  Sparks singed Kirby’s fingers, and she yelped in surprise as she jerked away.

  Brit wore a frown, but no wings.

  “That’s a no go.” Kirby forced her disappointment to stay at bay.

  “Doesn’t your power clash with Brit’s?” Magnus asked. “Ever since Hel made her immortal, your magics are incompatible?”

  Kirby didn’t remember telling either of them that.

  “I volunteer as tribute.” Magnus’s words were light and not nearly so impulsive sounding as she might think.

  But if sharing was an option, Kirby could revoke it, too. She’d done so before. She wouldn’t give Magnus immortality, just the wings, and then yank them away again as quickly.

  The entire idea still made her nervous. She exchanged glances with Brit, not having any idea what she wanted to convey beyond help me keep this from being a mistake.

  Brit’s faint nod was reassuring.

  Kirby met Magnus at the front of the room, and grasped the Noble’s fingers. She summoned the same image she had with Brit, though the warm fuzzies weren’t there when she pictured Magnus with glorious wings.

  Magnus’s gasp and the faint tug on Kirby’s hands forced her eyes open. It worked. Magnus floated a few centimeters off the ground, and she wore the brightest grin to accompany the large auburn wings spanned from her back.

  Holy fuck. Kirby retracted the gift in a blink, and Magnus landed on the balls of her feet.

  Kirby refused to imagine the fallout if even one member of TOM kept and warped what she had. “I’m not doing this for your people.”

  “You can’t fight without them.” Vidar sounded smug, like he’d made an inarguable point.

  He hadn’t.

  “I have my own people. I trust them.” Loved them. Knew them so very intimately, and not just in a physical sense.

  “You shouldn’t,” Vidar said. “But it doesn’t matter how you feel, because they’re not here. You came back without them.”

  Like she’d had a choice if she wanted answers? Which she had now. Vidar wanted her to make his people powerful. “So, what? You’ll walk into this battle you’re not prepared for, and you think I’ll go out of my way to keep your people alive? No. Not my war. Not my problem.”

  Vidar’s smile was more unnerving than his stony-faced expression. “You willingly returned to a campus where most everyone wanted you dead, and you did it to keep those people alive. That wasn’t your war either. If I stick you in the middle of a fight, you’ll help. It’s who you are.”

  “And your people will die regardless.” Kirby wanted to argue that he was wrong, but these were soldiers, trained to follow orders. And a large number of them literally worshiped Vidar. “You don’t have many left, even if you don’t give a fuck about the individual lives.”

  “You also still haven’t told us why you’re invested in this fight,” Brit said. “It’s not because FU wants Kirby dead. What is it?”

  Silence.

  Kirby cast her gaze between Magnus and Vidar, who were sharing one of those should we say this looks. Would they admit what she had figured out?

  Vidar sighed and leaned forward in his chair, staring at his clasped hands. “Freya and Hel aren’t the only ones who helped lock away Malsumis. I can’t give you all of their names, because they all took the same pact, but Grytha was one was well, and she’s missing.”

  “Your mother.” Kirby was so used to the gods fighting among family—Loki and Fenrir for instance—that she forgot some of them were as close-knit as mortal families. “I’m sorry, but that doesn’t sell me on taking your side.” Did she sound believable? She was already going to help Aya, and she couldn’t stand to see the underdog be trampled on, even if they were the enemy most of the time.

  “Kirby’s right about needing extra help.” Brit knew her too well. “We can’t do this without her team.”

  “They’re not going to help me, even if I want them here,” Vidar said.

  “They will if Kirby asks. Especially if what you say is true about her being a target. But even without that, all she has to do is ask.”

  Kirby heard an edge in Brit’s voice—envy mixed with awe and conviction.

  Vidar kept his attention on Kirby. “That dragon came for you in the field. She said as much. You don’t have to believe me, you saw it for yourself.” He dragged in a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “All right. I don’t like this, but I want Grytha returned safely. I’d rather have as little to do with your people as possible, especially Starkad.” He said the name with the same level of disdain as every other time it passed his lips.

  “Starkad is a warrior. The warrior besides Brit. Why are you so opposed to him?” Kirby asked.

  Vidar shook his head. “The only thing he stands for is you, and I’m not even certain about that some days. He’s dangerous.”

  Not to Kirby, but Vidar’s words left a trail of question marks in her mind.

  “You have forty-eight hours to convince them, and then I give up on you,” Vidar said. “Not that I’m concerned about you.”

  Curious. “Why not?”

  “Because you were a shitty Noble.”

  Kirby didn’t like that those words still stung after all these years. “I was the best.”

  “But you were honest. Honorable,” Brit said.

  “Good to your word,” Magnus added.

  Vidar stood. “Those aren’t Noble traits.”

  Given the number of ways Kirby had been taught to lie in school, she couldn’t argue. “I’ll reach out once I’ve talked to Starkad and the others.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Kirby

  Magnus refused to teleport them for this trip.

  Not that Vidar would let her. “I refuse to risk her in that den of vicious immortals.” He sounded so serious, that Kirby couldn’t find the voice to ask where he thought Magnus was now.

  Vidar planted them on a street in front of a nondescript building, and nodded at a doorway that simply said NEON on it. “We’ll speak in two days,” he said, and then he was gone.

  Kirby had been into this part
of the city several times since she moved to the suburbs with Starkad, but she’d never noticed this building. She looked at Brit, who shrugged.

  Kirby kept her armor within mental reach, and pushed inside.

  It was a club. An empty one, with all the lights on. Kind of depressing.

  “Kirby?” The voice was one she hadn’t heard in centuries, but brought a smile. Fenrir.

  She turned to see him striding toward them. She’d always liked Fen. They were friends in his first life, and in the few times she’d run into him since.

  He wrapped her in a giant hug, and she squeezed back. It was nice to run into a friend. Someone she didn’t need to second-guess. Did she?

  Fen stepped back to study her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Trust issues.” That ran so very deep. She gave him a weak smile.

  “Tell me this isn’t another lover,” Brit said dryly.

  Kirby and Fen spoke at the same time. “Definitely not.”

  Kirby couldn’t fathom sleeping with him. She adored him as a person, and if he was here, Frey may be too—this looked like Frey’s kind of thing—but there was no sexual attraction.

  Fen turned. “You must be Brit.”

  “Must I be?” She was definitely on the defensive.

  Kirby should be too. Unknown situation. God she hadn’t seen him in ages. But she couldn’t muster the concern. “Brit, Fenrir.”

  “Ah.” Brit’s reaction was impossible to read.

  “So we were just deposited here...” Kirby didn’t want to say by whom, or why. She was already trying to figure out how to make Starkad and the others listen when she explained to them.

  Fen nodded toward the doorway he’d come through at the opposite end of the room. “Everyone’s in back, except Aya, Freyr, and Dahlia.” A shadow crossed his face. “Frey and Dahlia are fetching information.”

  Min had explained Frey and Aya reaching out to the others. Dahlia being here probably explained why Magnus refused to make the trip. Maybe they actually did have a falling out.

  “What kind of information? Where’s Aya?” Kirby had always admired the goddess, and knowing what she did now, about how Aya had been unable to help before, rather than just refusing, it was difficult to hold onto that grudge.

  Fen’s frown deepened. “We were attacked, by FU forces, a dragon, and Gluskab. When the dust cleared, she was gone. We assume Gluskab has her.”

  Did that happen before or after Kirby encountered the same? “We’ll find her.” She didn’t remember Fen being close to Aya, but he was close to Frey, who held his sister in high regard.

  “I know. But not without a serious plan. We got our asses handed to us last time.”

  Kirby knew the feeling. “I guess we have time to catch up and share intel.”

  “I’m sure everyone else will be happy to do exactly that.” Fen gestured toward the back of the bar again.

  Everyone. Kirby’s anticipation spiked. It had only been a few days, but not knowing when she’d see Gwydion again. Starkad. That had gnawed at her. She and Brit followed Fen down a long hallway, through an unmarked door, and into something that looked more like a house than a business. He stopped in the doorway of a living room, and Kirby’s heart skipped.

  She barely had time to register that Gwydion and Min were here, before Starkad was in front of her. He gripped her hips tightly, lifting her to press her back into the wall as he crushed his mouth to hers.

  She wrapped her legs around him out of instinct, drowning in the security and intensity.

  He bit her lips enough to draw blood and lick it away before the wounds healed. He held her tightly enough to leave marks on her skin. With each heartbeat, the world drifted further away, until nothing else existed.

  Fen cleared his throat, jarring her back to reality.

  Starkad didn’t let up.

  Kirby laughed into his kiss. “Answers first, fucking later,” she murmured against his lips.

  Starkad’s growl rumbled through her entire body. The primal sound was as much wolf as human, and it shouldn’t be. She didn’t care—it was intoxicating. He finally set her on her feet with a gruff, “fine.”

  Gwydion was by her side, cupping her cheeks and searching her face. “I can’t compete with that.” His tone was light, but he sounded off.

  “Good. Never be anyone but you.” Kirby needed his touch.

  Gwydion kissed her gently, drawing out the moment until she thought she’d tumble into nothing and love every minute of it. If Starkad was security, Gwydion was safety. An odd distinction, but one would protect if she needed, and the other would keep her away from harm to begin with.

  Min’s greeting was a more reserved kiss on the back of Kirby’s knuckles, but the way he said, “Welcome back, Huntress,” made her grin.

  Gwydion and Min gave Brit warm hugs as well.

  “I’m going to leave you all to talk.” Fen looked out of place. “I’m down the hall if you need me, and if there’s news, you’ll know as soon as I do.”

  “Thank you.” Kirby turned back to the group as soon as he was gone. Her gaze fell on Starkad’s arm. She gasped. “What happened?” The limb looked like a twisted blend of truck liner and rotted tree, from shoulder to fingertips.

  She reached out tentatively and he turned his hand up to tangle his fingers with hers. It still felt like flesh. Still moved and pulsed like Starkad, which explained why she hadn’t noticed during the kiss.

  He squeezed her hand, led her toward an upholstered chair, and dropped into the cushions, pulling her into his lap in the process. “We believe it’s the same thing that happened to you—TOM bullets. I’m fine. It looks far worse than it feels.”

  Thank the gods for that, because it looked pretty bad, and Kirby still remembered how much her wound had hurt.

  “Vidar says he has a cure,” Brit said.

  Kirby wanted to hug her for remembering.

  Min sat next to Gwydion on a nearby couch. “Speaking of, I was under the impression you were returning to him.”

  “We tried.” Kirby wasn’t having the best luck with plans lately. “But a dragon intercepted us, and there was a fight TOM was grossly under-equipped for, and Vidar brought us back here because Grytha was taken, presumably the same people who took Aya. If we help him, maybe he’ll heal your arm.” The instant the words passed her lips, she realized how naive it sounded. “Yeah, never mind.”

  Starkad traced his nose up the side of her neck. “It’s fine. It’s not pretty, but it’s fucking useful in a fight.”

  Kirby leaned her weight into him further. “So we have a god who’s kidnapping the gods who locked his sister away because she was dangerous. He appears to be working with a dragon, who also wants me dead.”

  “We hoped that wasn’t true. That Dahlia was wrong.” A strain ran through Gwydion’s voice. Heavy shadows lingered under his eyes and he looked drained. That wasn’t right. They were all tired, but something about him was off.

  “I’ve always wondered how Valkyrie tastes is a pretty specific threat.” Kirby would be hearing those words for a while. “Wait.” She twisted to face Starkad. “TOM bullets—I thought FU was the enemy. Where did you go after the quake?”

  “Norway. One minute I was in the living room, and the next I was standing in front of a very pissed off Fenrir, in the middle of the woods. TOM worked pretty hard to keep us there, so whatever Vidar promised you, I’m even less inclined than normal to believe it.”

  “But why would...” The several instances Vidar mentioned not trusting Starkad rushed back. Would he go to that kind of trouble to keep Kirby away from Starkad, just to get her help? Vidar had to know she’d find out.

  “Speaking Dahlia, what do you think of her?” Brit would be looking for a bar to compare Magnus’s behavior to.

  Kirby was grateful for the shift in conversation to move on from the glaring stupidity of her putting even the smallest amount of faith in Vidar. She still believed what he said about Grytha, though.

  “What do you t
hink I think?” Starkad’s tone changed in an instant to menacing.

  No surprise there. It seemed unlikely he would warm to any Noble.

  “I like her,” Gwydion said. “Fen and Frey seem rather attached to her, which is also a good sign.”

  “I like her as well. Far more than the young lady you were with—Magnus.” Min tended to like most people, so the fact that he had doubts about Magnus was more telling than the rest of his response.

  Kirby looked at Brit, curious if that answered her question.

  Brit shrugged. “I’d be hard pressed to hurt either one of them unless they gave me a reason. They’re still... you know.”

  Kirby did. And the disconnect between wanting her friends from school back, and how stupid it was to trust anyone, especially former classmates, was glaring.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Gwydion

  It was disconcerting to still be in pain even a few minutes after a fight, let alone hours. The fact that he was struggling to grasp his full power was something Gwydion didn’t care for.

  Having Kirby back, safe and acting exactly like herself helped. All the way down to the fact she said she was working with Vidar. It didn’t matter that he’d had a hand in her shitty upbringing and trauma, he’d asked her for help and go figure, she said yes.

  Her drive to save the world was both admirably lovable and frustration at its most chaotic.

  Gwydion looked up at a knock on the entryway frame.

  Fen had returned. “Just talked to Frey. He and Dahlia won’t be back for several hours, but they want to see you.” He focused on Kirby. “Since you’ve all been going everywhere since your house and hotel rooms were destroyed, you’re welcome to stay here.”

  “No offense, but a hotel is probably more comfortable”—and private— “than a lounge at a club.” Gwydion wouldn’t be the only one who wanted some time with Kirby.

  Fen was unfazed. “This block, and the three adjoining ones, are more than just a club—NEON is more than just a club. This is a refuge for immortals who are sick of the games gods play. We’re not self-contained, but thanks to the various magics, we’re close. Follow me.”