What's Up, Buttercup? (Vexatious Valkyries Book 1)

by Jane Cousins

  It would have been foolish of Stephanie not to ruthlessly exploit her secretary’s talent for just being herself.

  Somehow, by the end of the second week, the two of them had reached a détente of sorts. They had discovered a deep and abiding love of needling each other. Plus, they’d developed a routine of sorts. Stephanie would issue orders to Helgastein that would result in a lot of groaning and dark, dour unimpressed looks. Then her secretary would quickly see about delegating Stephanie’s instructions, taking clear delight in making someone else’s day miserable.

  After having the lights in her office upgraded, Stephanie was all but certain that was a definite, albeit tiny, glimmer of respect now in Helgastein’s eyes when they had their little skirmishes… definitely respect, or maybe heartburn.

  Enacting changes in such a large, widely spread company was a slow, uphill battle. Stephanie was fine with that. Everyday she faced a host of new irritants, frustrations and combatants resistant to change. And everyday, as she hauled herself into work, she couldn’t wait to start dealing with all those annoyances and stubborn individuals. Because when she was at work, she hardly had any time to think about Galen.

  Pity the same couldn’t be said for her off hours. Which was why she was working twenty hour days currently. Sleep, pah, who needed it? She had too much to do.

  Hoping… praying, that given some time, she would begin to forget about her gorgeous Demon. His silky, midnight dark hair. Those heated, ink black eyes full of heat and promise. His large hands, strong, possessive, running over her body. His lips soft, yet heated, worshipping her. His teeth clamping onto her flesh, marking her.

  Grrr, so not going there. Crossing her legs and resting her feet up on the desk, Stephanie absently tapped her pen against the clipboard on her lap as she contemplated her navy and white checked espadrilles. She’d maintained the casual dress code for the office. After all, if she needed to impress a client or intimidate a vendor, then it was no trouble to morph her outfit immediately into something more suitable. Which was why today she was wearing navy capri pants and a red and white striped, long sleeved top.

  Tap. Tap. She looked down at the clipboard. The list of items on this particular to-do list were under the heading - urgent. Item number one, underlined in red pen, was proving both troublesome and frustrating. Appoint new Department Heads.

  Stephanie didn’t want to slot in convenient Valkyries who wouldn’t be up to managing a corporate department. She wanted a management team behind her that would steamroll through all the revamps and changes she envisioned. Ones who would willingly contribute their own ideas to the process.

  She couldn’t do it all herself. However, finding the right, qualified Valkyries, was proving all but impossible. Looking through the employee personnel files was rather unhelpful. It was nothing but kill rates, kill methods, and weapons proficiency scores. None of which gave Stephanie any indication of a Sister’s leadership potential other than on the battlefield.

  She made a note under Human Resources to get the new Department Head, who ever she may be, to make updating the personnel files to include more pertinent information a priority. Double grrrr. Come on, think, she had to know someone, several someones, who would be suitable. Sisters who wouldn’t cleave her head from her body for assigning them to work at Corporate Headquarters.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Stephanie was concentrating so hard it took her a few minutes to work out that the odd rhythmic thumping sound was out of place. They had painters in today. General maintenance had been completed last week. New carpets due to be laid next week. There shouldn’t be any workers here today making such a racket. So what was up with the thumping?

  Abruptly the sound ceased, but now Stephanie could hear someone yelling. The words muffled and indistinct, but whoever was causing the ruckus must have been kicking up quite a stink for the sounds to make it past her sturdy office doors.

  Stephanie sauntered outside to investigate. Parking her tight butt on the corner of Helgastein’s desk, mainly because she knew it would thoroughly annoy her secretary. Her attention instantly locked on to the corridor leading to the Legal Department, where all the yelling appeared to be coming from.

  The rhythmic thumping sound started up again. Moments later, a Valkyrie stomped out into the General Administration open planned area. The cause of the thumping sound instantly made clear. Her fellow warrior was using a halberd as a cane. The long staff gleaming, displaying some interesting modifications. The Valkyrie wasn’t limping exactly, but close to it.

  She was a little taller than Stephanie; six-foot-two, her skin a polished light coffee colour, her eyes a clear green, filled with flashing fury. In her right hand she clutched a thick wad of papers, waving them around dramatically in the air. Her hair exploded out of her skull in springy tight curls, a mix of golden blonde and brown. The Valkyrie had somehow managed to twist all those curls into a big knot on top of her head. Strangely, the wild mess suited her. She looked nothing but fierce and regal in her golden battle armour.

  With one last wave of her hand she flung the wad of papers back down the corridor leading to the Legal Department. Screaming out a last warning. “If I see one more document regarding sick leave. Or rehabilitation leave. Or anything to do with benefits. Paid leave. Compassionate leave. Act of Goddess leave. Reassignment notifications, or anything… anything to do with resigning my battlefield commission, I will hunt each and every one of you twats down and prove to you just how fine my knee is, as I grind you to dust beneath my boots.” Turning, she began stomping slowly and steadily towards the elevators, her halberd thumping with every second step as it took her weight.

  “Who was that?”

  Helgastein, nosy parker that she was, knew everyone. “Shaw Bengala of the Fourteenth Battalion. Get of Christina. Descendent of Ignka. Progeny of Martha. Issue of Segs-”

  “Yeah. Yeah.” Stephanie knew who Shaw was. She just hadn’t immediately placed her in this setting. Off the battlefield. Not covered in blood with a cheerful, savage smile plastered to her face, swinging her twin halberds around as if they were extensions of her arms.

  Everyone knew, or knew of the Bengala sisters. Shaw was a terror on the battlefield. Deadly, skilled, and passionate about her vocation. The next in line, Monroe, was one of the dreaded Valkyrie bounty hunters, with a prestigious number of successful hunts under her gold belt. Whilst the baby of the family, Zuri, was considered an enigma. Genius level smart, she spent most of her time in the weapons research and development labs, located several levels down. The Valkyrie equivalent of James Bond’s Q. Designing and producing gadgets and weapons for those Valkyries assigned to quests and the retrieval of stolen items.

  “What happened to her? What’s up with the limp?”

  “She was run over by an ale wagon.”

  “Too stupid to get out of the way?” Damn, Stephanie had sensed management potential the moment she heard Shaw so eloquently vent her displeasure.

  “No, it was bring your daughter to battle week, and three of the juniors decided to steal the ale wagon. Their first taste of ale, a rather steep incline and bad luck meant the wagon got away from them. It took out four tents. Resulting in a concussion. A dislocated shoulder. The only real injury was Shaw. Broke her right leg in six places. I understand there is some kind of problem with her knee. The medics are refusing to sign off on her fit for duty status. Officially, she’s on medical leave.”

  “Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”

  “You want me to inform you every time someone tries to steal an ale wagon?”

  Stephanie thought about that for a second and quickly shook her head. Helgastein would be plodding into her office every hour on the hour knowing her Sisters. “I want to see Shaw in my office first thing tomorrow. I think we just found our new head of Legal.”

  Helgastein couldn’t help but smile evilly in anticipation at being able to eavesdrop on that particular conversation. “She won’t thank you for it. She has zero
tolerance for bullshit.”

  “Exactly. Which makes her perfect.”

  Finally, it looked like Stephanie could cross one thing off her urgent to-do list. Only three hundred and ninety-two more items to go.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Galen was in the midst of packing up his New York office. The walls were bare. The bookshelves cleared, their contents in boxes stacked in one corner. All that remained was to empty his desk and his personal filing cabinets. There was only a handful of cases that he would continue to take the lead on, the rest he was in the process of dividing up between the two other partners at his firm.

  He wasn’t all that surprised when his best friend Kaleb abruptly stalked in unannounced, looking angry and rather wild eyed. Heading straight for the liquor cabinet to pour himself a hefty glass of whiskey, slugging down the entire contents before turning to glare Galen’s way.

  “You bastard. I don’t want to be King.”

  “Lord Lucifer, who in their right mind would? But you were nominated.”

  “By you!”

  “And your name was seconded.”

  “By Raquel, who told me you paid her to second my nomination.”

  “And the vote was pass unanimously.”

  “Because you offered everyone who would vote for me a holiday at a five-star Spa and Retreat on the Mixeltoob plane. I thought we were friends. I threw you a bachelor party and everything.” Kaleb pushed back his tousled mass of sandy coloured hair. He was overdue for a haircut and the curly ends were sticking up in all directions.

  In fact, Kaleb was looking decidedly dishevelled. His white linen shirt markedly creased. His light khaki expensively tailored trousers even had a small tear just above the right knee. Uncharacteristically his friend looked like he’d been dragged though a hedge backwards. Or, at the very least, that he’d made a hasty and desperate escape through an overgrown jungle forest surrounding the Conflict Demon Realm Palace.

  Galen would place money on the latter.

  Though he could only surmise based upon the number of female interns, who suddenly found an excuse to wander by his open office door, that Kaleb’s rough appearance made his friend no less attractive to the members of the opposite sex.

  “Please, my bachelor party was just an excuse so you could meet tall, busty women who wear very short skirts and fitted gold armour.”

  “There might be some inkling of truth in what you say. But that still doesn’t account for why, By the Fiery Pits, you had me crowned King?”

  “You were only saying the other day how bored you were. How there was nothing exciting happening. How everyone you met lately was immensely tiresome.” Galen placed several more files into the nearest cardboard box.

  “Bored? Then you should have offered to take me to a new strip joint. Or Vegas, for a poker competition. You don’t have me crowned King.”

  “Well, someone has to step up and sort out the huge mess left behind by Laynn.”

  “Why didn’t you volunteer, if you feel so strongly about it?”

  “Me? King? Do I look either insane or an idiot? Besides, I have more important things to do.” Galen closed the box and began filling another.

  “Is this how you repay me for all our centuries of friendship? Saddling me with a job I don’t want and sicking a manipulative group of power hungry, pompous politicians on my ass? My self-proclaimed advisors keep cornering me and insisting I make royal decrees. But then all they do is bicker over exactly what law I should pass and give me nothing but conflicting advice.”

  “Of course they do. They’re Conflict Demons after all, and they love their work.”

  “Well, they are doing my head in… say, what did you mean when you said you had something better to do?” Kaleb blinked and then considered the pile of stacked boxes, the walls devoid of awards and diplomas and then the bare bookshelves. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Yes.” Galen picked up the next waiting empty box, plonked it on his desk and began emptying the contents of the nearest draw into it. “Los Angeles.”

  “Is this some sort of mid-existence crisis? Have a brush with going stabby insane - congrats by the way, on avoiding that bullet - and you’ve decided to hit the West Coast and indulge in sun, surf and babes in bikinis? Because if so, I’m totally in. In fact, a change of scenery sounds like an excellent idea. Forget the packing, let’s go now. I know an awesome rooftop bar with hot tubs, a no bikini rule and excellent tequila.” Kaleb frowned down at the glass still in his hand, seeming to be questioning why it was empty.

  “I assume you are trying to outrun your new Royal responsibilities?”

  “Not to mention the never stop bickering, politically-minded blowhards that are probably on my tail right at this moment. Come on, someone else can do that. Let’s go.”

  “Sorry Buddy. You’re on you own. Like I said, I have more important things to do.”

  “You got me into this mess, Galen. The least you could do is hunker down with me and help make it go away.” Kaleb’s pale blue eyes were full of frustration and stress rather than their usual sparkling good humour.

  “Like you helped me out when I was dealing with turning unmated Knustabber? Totally. I’ve organised a secluded mountain cabin for you. Fully stocked with food and whiskey. Where you can go and sulk… I mean, plot your way out of your recent rise to the throne.”

  “Hah, so not funny.”

  “Really? I thought I was hilarious. Look, someone has to step up and sort through the mess Laynn made. It doesn’t have to be forever. Though from the look on your mother’s face when the announcement was made, she is not going to make it easy for you to abdicate any time soon.”

  “She’s thrilled. Thinks she’s going to get to arrange all these fancy parties as Mother of the King. She can’t wait to be at the epicentre of all the Palace gossip and high intrigue. Lucifer Save Me. I’m barely eligible when it comes to the family tree, why me?”

  “Blood is blood. And as for why you? Because I don’t trust anyone else to put things right.”

  “I don’t want to be King.”

  “Which makes you perfect for the position right now. Fix things. Then find a replacement, bring them up to snuff and bow out of the picture gracefully.”

  “I’m not cut out for life on the throne, even in a temporary capacity. All those never-ending council meetings. Ruling on citizen grievances. Trade talks. Pomp and circumstance? Come on, Galen, that is not me.”

  “I have complete faith, that in your own unique style, you will be the perfect King for our Realm during this particular time of crisis.”

  Kaleb huffed out a soft, almost defeated breath. “Well, I’m glad one of us has faith in me.” Glancing over at the stacked boxes he eyed his friend with pointed curiosity. “So, this important thing you have to do in Los Angeles. It wouldn’t have anything to do with a six-foot, gorgeous Valkyrie, would it? With hair like gold silk. Eyes of the ocean and a bodacious-” Kaleb hesitated as Galen’s gaze snapped up, pinning him to the spot, red flames shimmering in their depths. “… er, a bodacious personality… that wins her friends where ever she goes.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes? That’s all I get?”

  Absently Galen ran his fingers through his hair. “She’s a Valkyrie and I’m a Conflict Demon.” Which said everything about the almost insurmountable challenge that faced him.

  “Ah, Buddy, you got it bad, huh?” Kaleb clapped Galen on the shoulder hard enough to make him wince. Seems Kaleb was still a little upset over Galen engineering him onto the throne. “But you’re going to drag your sorry ass across the country and what? Plead for any scrap of attention she’s prepared to give you?”

  “If that’s what it takes, yes. She’s my soul mate, Kaleb. I love her.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t beg. Go in from a position of strength. She’ll never respect you otherwise.”

  Galen laughed, his eyes full of amusement at his own predicament. “She holds my heart, my joy, and my future in her blood so
aked hands. It hurts to breath without her in my life. I plan to plant myself in her path where ever she goes. The dentist. The drycleaners. The grocery store.”

  “Stalker much?”

  “I prefer to think of myself as more of a persistent tripping hazard. Albeit one with nothing but good intentions, love in my heart, and the wish to worship at Stephanie’s feet, or at the very least the legal mandated distance away. To stay out of jail I thoroughly researched the California stalking laws. I had to anyway when I sat the Bar in order to practise out there.”

  “I don’t think the law is going to stop you from getting a gold boot to the face and your heart ground into dust.”

  Galen didn’t bother to deny that was a real possibility. But he had a plan, and he could handle a lot of physical damage. It would just take time and persistence to win Stephanie’s claim. Luckily, he had all the time in the world now the threat of unmated Knustabber had been lifted. “Seriously, I can’t wait until the day you find your mate, Kaleb. Let’s see how mockingly superior you are then.”

  “Not going to happen. Ever. I made that pretty bloody clear to all the flocking She-Demons that have been circling like buzzards the moment they heard I was declared King. Now that you and your Valkyrie gal-pal have eradicated the threat of any unmated males turning stabby, I can live the rest of my long, long life sowing my carefree, single - highly in demand - oats.”

  “I think you’ll find that when you meet the right woman, your oat sowing days will suddenly feel nothing but stale and distasteful.”

  Kaleb laughed mockingly. “You know what? This I gotta see. I’ve decided to base myself out of Los Angeles for the foreseeable future. Watching the Hollywood elite fall all over themselves to get their progeny into my West Coast pre-schools should help lighten my mood. And I can still deal with the King stuff from there. If the politicians don’t like it, they can get themselves a new King.”

  “Kaleb-”