by Jane Cousins
The next Demon who attempted to block her path got an elbow to the temple. And the one after that took one look at the death glare Stephanie fixed upon him, her lip curling upwards in a snarl and abruptly pin wheeled his arms to stop his forward momentum. A smart one, at last. Maybe even a genius, as he grabbed two of his fellow Demons by the scruff of the neck and hauled them out of Stephanie’s way.
Maybe there was some hope for the future of the species after all.
Word somehow spread amongst the Conflict Demons and like the red sea they parted, allowing Stephanie to stomp her way through the battle lines and out the other side. Pinpointing her destination via the coloured banners waving above each Valkyrie basecamp, she turned right. Passing three basecamps before reaching the one she had been assigned to.
Eznelda was standing beside the fire-pit, watching the battle, longing and petulance on her face as she absently rubbed and polished her swords. Catching sight of Stephanie’s approach, a look of sheer relief broke out on her face. “Thank Freyja, Stephanie, where the hell have you been? I was about ready to fill out a form 32-J, but here you are.”
Stephanie didn’t stop or slow down, forcing Eznelda to break into a jog to keep apace with her. “A form 32-J is only filled out when a Valkyrie is kidnapped by a dragon. I think you mean a 22-J, when a Valkyrie is M-I-A.”
“Sure, right, a 22-J. I’ll remember that for next time. Though Goddess above save us all when I am rotated to basecamp manager again. It has not been going well. We lost three tents in a wind storm three weeks ago and no one likes sharing.”
“You should have ordered spare tents just in case.” Stephanie still wasn’t slowing her stride.
“Well, yeah, I suppose. Then bore weevils got into the bread, one bit Halla and took her finger clean off. Nasty buggers.”
“There should have been traps set up around the food supply wagons.”
“Yes. Yes. And then… um, Stephanie, where are you going? You’re not allowed back here.”
Stephanie had finally come to a halt some ten feet behind Eznelda’s personal tent, where their squad’s portal transport node was located.
Most Valkyries, with a sweep of their weapons, could open a transport portal to Headquarters, but not during a campaign. Only the basecamp managers were permitted that ability at specially designated locations. Otherwise too many Valkyries would be teleporting out to carouse in bars, or get in fights because their blood was up and they craved more violence than what ever tame faux battle they were currently assigned to was providing.
“Open it.”
“Um.” Eznelda absently tugged at a few dark stray locks that had escaped from her battle braids.
Stephanie finally turned her head to look at her Sister, blue eyes blazing with intent, her expression stony and a little chilling. “Open it.”
“Right. Sure. Sure.” Eznelda raised her sword, cutting a large cross in the air. “There you-” Eznelda stuttered, Stephanie had already stepped through the shimmering portal and disappeared. “Damn, I wonder what bore weevil crawled up her butt and died?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Stephanie exited the portal, performing a quick visual scan of the battle staging level back at Valkyrie Headquarters. It was all but deserted. She acknowledged the call of greeting from the Supply Manger on duty with a casual wave of her hand. Striding in the direction of the elevators, unconsciously morphing away her dusty running shorts, t-shirt and shoes, replacing it with her armour.
Waiting for the elevator, she glared at her reflection in the polished metal doors. What the fuck was she doing? she was a Battle Valkyrie.
But then her gaze narrowed, as it caught sight of ugly, smudged fingerprints marring the golden perfection of her breastplate armour. Grrr, getting them off was going to be time consuming and expensive.
Her chin lifted with determination. Shoulders back, bodacious chest out. Damn right, she was going to do this. She, all her Sister Valkyries, deserved better. The elevator finally arrived, she stomped in, resolutely punching the button for the Executive Management floor.
Besides, the irritation she felt at Management’s lacklustre approach of late, it was almost enough to distract her from the gaping empty hollow void that had set up shop in her gut. If she didn’t have a purpose, something challenging in her life right now, she might be tempted to track down one Galen Darvyn and put him in a headlock until he agreed to be hers. Whether he liked the idea or not.
Grrr, much better she take on every one of those heifers in Executive Management, and kick their collective asses until they agreed to lift their game. Find new, more appropriate clients. Hold up-close and personal meetings with their suppliers until they were too scared to do anything but provide the Valkyries with quality assured, top of the line products. Issued orders to revamp and modernize the Legal Department. Ensured Human Resources actively encouraged feedback and sought ways to improve battlefield conditions.
And why stop there? The gym was in desperate need of some new equipment. While the in-house cafeteria could do with broadening their menu to something more than steak and ale. Even a Valkyrie craved a salad occasionally.
The elevator dinged, Stephanie walked out on to the Executive Management floor, automatically wrinkling her nose in distaste. The grey carpet beneath her boots was worn in places and smelled slightly musty. The walls were painted a dull, khaki colour that Stephanie wouldn’t be surprised to learn was called prison chic. The artwork lining the walls looked generic and rather cheap.
Damn, the décor was uninspiring. This is what their clients and vendors saw when they visited Valkyrie Headquarters? Seriously? No wonder they were getting cheap-ass gigs and second rate supplies.
Mouth set in a grim, flat line, Stephanie stomped down the corridor, emerging into a large cavernous space full of cubicles. At the desks sat mainly older Valkyries who’d been forced to retire from battle duty but still had a desire to contribute, or just needed somewhere to go everyday. They, as a rule, looked bored and only marginally productive.
Stephanie keep on stomping forward, heading towards the back of the General Administration area, striding past corridors branching off at intervals, leading to various other major departments. There was only one person Stephanie was here to see, the head of the whole shebang. She intended to start and end at the top.
First though, she would have to get past Helgastein Gerwitz. Part executive assistant to their illustrious leader, and part vicious guard dog.
The dour expression on Helgastein’s face didn’t waver a bit as her dark eyes scanned Stephanie from head to toe. Her only acknowledgement of her presence was to issue a loud, unimpressed snort of dismissal.
Dumpy, broad and tall, dressed in various shades of grey, with her matching hair up in a coronet of braids, Helgastein didn’t have to call her famous lethal broadswords to deal with interlopers who attempted to annoy her boss. She was a large, immoveable rock. Usually fixing someone with her patented look of loathing, for daring to annoy her with their insistence upon breathing, was more than sufficient enough to send the interloper running away.
“I’m going in there.” Stephanie decided to give fair warning, Helgastein was only doing her job after all.
“I don’t think so, girlie.”
Stephanie called her hatchets. Helgastein’s dour expression remained frozen in place, but now it had the vaguest hint of scornful amusement underlying it.
The older Valkyrie rolled her dark eyes heavenward, issuing another grumpy, irritated snort. “Put those away before you hurt yourself. You’re never going to get past me so give up and-”
Stephanie slammed both hatchets down, their edges biting deeply into the top of Helgastein’s desk. Using that split second of distraction she swung her legs up and over the desk, clocking Helgastein on the temple with the tip of her gold boot. Once more the older Valkyrie’s eyes rolled upwards, but this time not in irritation, as she slid with a muffled thump to the carpeted floor, out for the count.
&nbs
p; Stephanie didn’t dawdle as she retrieved her hatchets from the desk. Given their generally speedy recuperative powers, she had no wish to still be standing here when Helgastein regained consciousness.
Slamming open the office double doors with a rather satisfying crack, Stephanie strode into a large, plainly decorated office. It had the expected furniture present; desk, bookcases, filing cabinets, but it had no personal touches or gave little indication as to who worked here on a daily basis.
That would be the legendary Greta Stonner; six-foot-three, raven haired, brown eyed, busty and gorgeous. Owner of the infamous scythes that had decimated ten Battalions of rabid Kleustang beasts in under two hours.
Stephanie wasn’t expecting this conversation to be easy. Greta had been CEO for decades now. She was renown for her anger. Her high kill rate. Along with her absolute loathing of warm ale, people who put pineapple on pizza and anyone who took longer than two seconds to die, after being kissed by the edge of her steel.
Greta had sprung to her feet the moment the doors of her office slammed opened. She looked cool and collected, unperturbed to be disturbed so rudely by an underling barging into her office. Casual wear was the order of the day. She was rocking tight black jeans and a navy silk shirt. Greta stared at Stephanie for a moment, her gaze flicking to the hatchets in her hands and the determined expression on her face.
“I suppose you have a problem with the way I’m running things?”
“Yes. Yes I do.” Stephanie waited a beat, wondering if she would be getting a glimpse of Greta’s infamous scythes in the next second or two. Or perhaps they’d throw down, sans weapons. Either way, she wasn’t walking away until Greta committed to reform and revamp the way they were doing business from the ground up. If she had to shed some blood to get her point across, then so be it.
Stephanie was expecting resistance. Harsh words. Perhaps even physical violence. What she wasn’t expecting was for Greta to start grinning broadly. Sheer happiness twinkling in her eyes as she clasped her hands together in prayer. “Thank you, Freyja.”
Say what now?
“And thank you.” Greta all but skipped around the desk, hauling a dazed Stephanie in for an exuberant hug that lifted her feet off the ground and cracked her back. Luckily she’d had the good sense to magic away her hatchets seconds before being engulfed.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Greta finally released Stephanie. Doing a little shimmy happy dance as she moved back towards the desk, leaning over to hit a blue button on her phone. “Ladies. The prodigal has finally arrived. Grab your gear, we are out of here. My place in twenty for mimosas.” Greta clicked off the button
Beaming Stephanie’s way, Greta reached under the desk to haul out a canvas duffle bag. Speedily she rummaged through her desk drawers, grabbing a handful of items, tossing them in the bag. All in all, it took her about a minute before she straightened and zipped the bag closed. “Done. Well, have fun.”
“Wait.” Stephanie had finally snapped out of her dazed state and wanted some answers. “Where are you going?”
“As of approximately three minutes ago I am officially retired from corporate life. Thank you. You don’t know how awful it’s been…” Greta grimaced sympathetically for a split second, but the exuberant, happy grin quickly returned to her face. “But you’ll soon find out for yourself.”
“Hold on.” Stephanie continued to body block the exit, she wasn’t moving until she got some answers. “You’re leaving, just like that? Who’s going to be CEO? Who’s going to be in charge?”
“You are, Doofus. You won the right the moment you defeated Helgastein and stormed through that office door.”
“But I don’t want to be CEO.”
“Exactly, no Valkyrie wants to give up the battlefield. So that’s why the rules of succession are laid out like they are. Imagine my surprise fifty years ago, when I barged in here with the suggestion that we include black pepper in the meal kits, rather than just salt… Bam, Keneesha was out the door so fast it practically made my head spin.”
“But…but..”
“Out of my way, Sister.”
“But?” Stephanie had so many questions, she just didn’t know where to start.
Greta huffed a brief sigh, taking pity on her fellow Valkyrie. “Look. It’s a bit of a doddle, really. Helgastein keeps everything running, just stay out of her way. All you have to do is assign new Department Heads.”
“The Department Heads are leaving as well?” The magnitude of what she’d done was finally beginning to sink in.
“Yeah, it’s part of the rules, or whatever. Each new CEO is supposed to stamp their own mark on the company. I just dobbed in all my closest friends to share the misery and now we are going to partyyyyyy.” Greta shimmied in place once more. “So I suggest you get out of my way, I need to get the champagne on ice immediately. See ya. Wouldn’t want to be ya.”
Stephanie stepped to the side, her eyes flinty, her mouth in a tight line as she watched Greta all but danced her way out of the office. Bloody hell. Rounding the desk, she collapsed down onto the surprisingly comfortable chair, still trying to process everything that had just happened. How she’d gone from intending to demand a few changes, to being handed the reins of the whole Valkyrie Empire.
It was… it was utterly and completely nuts. She wasn’t CEO material. She just wanted the contractor doing the laundry to add fabric softener.
Helgastein Gerwitz plodded into the office, eyeing Stephanie sitting in the CEO’s chair with dark, judgmental eyes. She dropped the large pile of files she was holding down onto the desk with a resounding thump.
Stephanie considered the pile like it might explode. “What are those?” Paperwork? Was this to be her new life now?
The edges of Helgastein’s mouth lifted ever so slightly. Oh, oh, Stephanie had the distinct feeling she wasn’t going to like her answer. “These folders require the CEO’s immediate attention.”
“Okay.” She could do that. There was like twelve, maybe thirteen folders in the pile. All she had to do was plough through them one at a time whilst she plotted how the hell she was going to get herself out of this mess.
“There are ten more piles just like this one waiting for your attention. Do you want me to bring them in now?”
“Sure.” Oh, Freyja. “Knock your self out.” Stephanie couldn’t help but send the older woman an evil grin as she absently rubbed her bruised temple. “Oh, that’s right, I already helped you out on that score today, didn’t I?”
Helgastein issued a muffled, unimpressed snort, but Stephanie wasn’t sure if she didn’t imagine the vaguest hint of respect that twinkled in her new secretary’s eyes. Or it could just be the bloody awful lighting in here. “Say, who do I speak to about getting some changes made around here?” She glanced up at the buzzing light, then at the drab walls and carpet.
The whole damn Management floor could do with a make-over to better reflect the rich culture and status of the Valkyries. Yeah, some plush carpet. Replace the crappy artwork with some large tapestries that depicted a few of their more legendary epic battles. All that red representing blood would be a nice counter point to the cream of the new carpet and freshly painted walls. Plus, the tapestries would be a pointed, but tasteful reminder to all their clients and in particular their suppliers, what Valkyries were capable of.
“You want to make some changes?” Helgastein sounded grumpy and put out. Stephanie was quickly coming to the realisation that was her go to state of temperament. “I suppose I could look into it.”
“That would be great.” Stephanie suddenly found herself beaming. She had been dissatisfied with the status quo for a while now. Keeping a running tally of all the sweeping changes that needed to be made in her head. Now here she was, finally in a position with enough power to make those changes a reality.
Hmmm, yes, this drastic change in circumstances might actually prove to be the perfect - kick in the pants - distraction she was so desperately in need of right at this c
urrent moment in time. She should look at the positives. She was now officially Head Valkyrie Bitch. Oh, yes, fear her wrath. The winds of change, they were a-coming.
She could still join in the occasional campaign to shed some blood, keep the cobwebs off her hatchets. But the idea of being CEO, Management. It suddenly didn’t frighten her. After all, as she’d so recently discovered, there were plenty of ways for a Valkyrie to get her kicks off the battlefield. “Oh, and Helgastein?” She watched as her stocky secretary paused by the office doors, rewarding her with a sour look. “I’m going to need a clipboard, a.sap.”
* * *
It had been almost two weeks since Stephanie had assumed the CEO role and she was surprised to find that each and every day she was enjoying herself more. There was something about striding through each department, jotting down new and exciting ideas to the list of changes she intended to make that just made her happy. Though funnily, her staff appeared to be in the doldrums. Every time they saw her bouncing their way, grinning, clutching her sleek, bright blue clipboard, they all got this panicked look on their faces before they got busy, looking busy.
Of course, Stephanie, being Stephanie, wasn’t shy about leaning over someone’s shoulder to ensure they actually were being productive.
And what do you know, her Sisters began to get with the program. Quickly realizing if they weren’t actually busy getting work done, then Stephanie would find some challenging new project for them to take the lead on.
Even Helgastein had somewhat grudgingly got with the program. Though it often seemed like she did little more than sit at her desk, snooping through Stephanie’s personal mail and sharpening her broadswords. In fact, her secretary had a gift of her own when it came to getting things done. Gruff, impatient and short on words. When Helgastein emailed or phoned with no nonsense, terse instructions, everyone jumped. Their fellow Valkyries. The Elves. Their suppliers. No one wanted to get on Helgastein’s bad side.
