Dark Deceit (11 page)

Pulling her to the floor, Loki shifted his weight directly on top of
her shoulder blades. He twisted one arm behind her back, holding her still
while his eyes searched for something heavy.

On the nearby sideboard, he spotted a heavy crystal paperweight.
Loki reached for the weapon and brought it down heavily onto the top of her
head. The Valkyrie’s struggles stopped instantly, her body going limp beneath
him.

Loki rolled off her body and stood up, brushing himself off. He knew
he didn’t have a lot of time. He started up the stairs, searching her bedroom.
That was where her cloak should be. He looked through her closet without
finding it, but as soon as he opened up a drawer full of her undergarments,
Loki saw the ash box stuffed into the back.

He pulled the box free and looked inside. The pure white feathers
shimmered in the light. Loki slid his hand inside and felt the softness of them
against his palm. He was so close now.

When he started back down the stairs, he could hear whispering.

‘Mist? Please. You have to help me. Someone just forced their way
into my house...’

Loki moved down the stairs silently until he reached the bottom. The
Valkyrie was propped up against the wall, blood gushing from the wound to her
head. Her hand shook where it pressed the phone to her ear, her eyes widening
when she saw that Loki had returned.

‘Help me!’ she screamed into the phone just as Loki reached for it.
She threw it across the room out of his reach. An unnatural roar left Loki’s
throat as he backhanded the woman.

Her eyes rolled back in her skull and she listed over to one side.
Dumping the box onto the ground, Loki’s eyes searched the immediate area for
something he could use to tie her up with. He found the wires of a phone
hanging behind a low table and yanked them from the wall.

He bound her hands and feet with the wires, leaving her propped
against the wall. Loki slapped her to bring her back around. She came to with a
loud gasp, her eyes cracking open widely when she realized he was still there.

‘Where are the other Valkyries?’ he growled.

The goddess shook her head. ‘I’ll never tell.’

Loki growled and retrieved the cloak from the box. He fingered the
feathers gently; enjoying the look of pain on the woman’s face as he did so. ‘Tell
me where the others are.’

‘I’d rather die than tell you,’ she spat back.

Loki shrugged. ‘Have it your way then.’ He tugged the first feather
free, enjoying the way she screamed out in pain. Blood welled from the cloak
where the feather had been plucked.

When the ground was littered with half a dozen feathers and pools of
blood, he paused. ‘Tell me where the others are,’ he demanded again.

The Valkyrie’s teeth were gritted against the pain, the muscles in
her neck cording. Wordlessly, she grimaced and shook her head. Loki snapped his
teeth at the woman. ‘All you need to tell me is the location of one other
Valkyrie and I will stop all this. I will stop the pain.’

Loki could see his words had pushed through her pain. ‘Do you swear
it? Do you swear you’ll let me live?’ Her chin shook as she spoke, tears
trembling in the corners of her uniquely beautiful Valkyrie eyes. He nodded.

The tears that waited on the edge were suddenly running down her
face. ‘Svava lives on Myrtle.’

‘And the others?’ he pushed.

She sobbed. ‘Lime, River, Tremont and Revere.’

Loki stroked the woman’s hair out of her eyes and smiled at her.
‘There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?’

The Valkyrie dropped her head and started howling. Loki tilted her
head back up and forced her to look in his eyes. ‘Thank you,’ he said gently,
with conviction. The woman closed her eyes and slammed the back of her head against
the wall behind her, squeezing more tears out when she did.

Loki rocked back onto his heels and walked away. The cloak was still
in his hand. He stroked it absently, waiting for a sense of ease to overtake
the woman. For so long he had dreamed of doing this, of hurting Odin as badly
as he had hurt him. He had plotted and planned and this night was the first of
many to come.

He turned around and grabbed huge fistfuls of feathers, ripping them
free and tearing fresh screams from the Valkyrie’s throat. She twisted and
bucked against the bonds, writhing while blood dripped from the cloak onto the
floor.

When there was only one feather remaining, Loki took the Valkyrie’s
chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. With his teeth, he plucked the
feather free. The cry that left her mouth reverberated down to the marrow in
his bones, his mouth pulling up into a satisfied smile. The torrent of blood flowing
from the plucked cloak meant only one thing: the Valkyrie was mortal.

Reaching around to the small of his back, Loki pulled the knife he
had taken from Sooty’s apartment free and dragged the Valkyrie onto her back.
Her half-masted eyes suddenly widened when he climbed on top of her body.
Straddling her waist, he lifted the dagger above her.

The blade flashed, arcing toward its target. Through flesh, through
bone, the steel was embedded until the hilt rested against her breast. Deep red
heart’s blood erupted from around the blade. The god watched as her eyes
started to dull, her mouth working over words that would never be spoken. She
coughed, spraying blood all over his face and neck. It trickled like a river
from the corner of her mouth, pooling behind her neck. Her body went slack
beneath him, maniacal laughter bubbling up from his throat.

She was dead.

And he had done it.

With an overwhelming sense of joy, Loki rolled from her body and got
to his feet. The ripple of the Valkyrie’s death would be felt soon. He had to
leave, but the body was going to come with him. If Loki didn’t get the chance
to bury his beloved, neither would Odin.

Before leaving, Loki walked around the former Valkyrie’s home,
touching all of her belongings, leaving smears of her blood everywhere he went.
He wanted Odin to know how much she had suffered before she was finally killed.
He wanted Odin to know he was coming. He wanted him to know he was his end
game—his ultimate target.

He wanted Odin to know he was already dead.

B
ryn rolled over
restlessly, kicking the sheets off her body with her feet. She’d been awake
since she’d gone to bed a few hours before, her mind a writhing mess of
thoughts with Odin front and center, among other things she had no intention of
contemplating.

She knew he wasn’t giving her the whole story. But that was
Odin—only letting her know just enough. He wanted her back, but that wasn’t a
newsflash. What she wanted to know was why now? Why was he so desperate to have
her agree to return
now
? He thought he’d hidden his desperation from
her, but she’d seen right through him. She
knew
. Something had scared
him, but what?

Closing her eyes to force her body into sleep, she saw Korvain’s
face as if his image had been burned into the back of her lids. She flipped
over onto her stomach, pulling the pillow over her head and groaning into the
mattress. He was the other thought she had promised herself not to think about.

‘Forget about him,’ she whispered into the dark room. ‘Bryn, forget
him.’ She tried to repeat the mantra, but her body refused to see the logic,
responding to the memories instead.

‘Forget who?’ a masculine voice asked.

Bryn sat up quickly, her eyes scanning the familiar silhouettes of
her bedroom furniture. Everything was as it should have been. She lay back
down, but couldn’t shake the feeling she wasn’t alone. It was just like when
she’d dreamed of Korvain before.

Her hand ploughed through her long hair. ‘I must be fucking
hallucinating again.’ Rolling onto her side, she closed her eyes and tried to
sleep until she felt the heat of another body beside her. She reached for the
tattoo on her neck, attempting to summon her sword when strong fingers wrapped
around her wrist, stopping her.

She was flipped over, coming face to face with Korvain. Her body
reacted without permission, without sense. It remembered the last time he’d
touched her and craved more—so much more. Heat bloomed between her legs, her
breasts tightened at the dark look in his eyes. She nervously licked her lips
and the male’s eyes burned with a hunger she wanted to physically feel.

He lowered his head, his lips like the softest suede against her
mouth. His tongue licked at her, insistent, persuasive. She opened for him, surrendered
to him.

Slowly, he released her wrist, stretching her arm above her head. He
did the same with her other arm, holding her there with his hot, strong
fingers. With his free hand, his fingers skimmed over the tee and boxer shorts
she’d worn to bed, touching her, heating her skin. Fingertips inched up the
fabric, caressing her softly.

Her hips rolled forward when he reached the edge of her shorts. He
smiled, flashing a monstrous set of fangs at her as he did, and dipped a finger
below the elastic waist. Bryn’s whole body was alive, buzzing with so much
energy she expected to see little sparks flying off her skin. Korvain purred
his approval and, without releasing her wrists, climbed on top of her.

She opened up her legs to him, welcoming his weight, relishing in
the touch of his body. Cradling him with her hips, she melted under him, taking
him into her body like he was designed for her and her alone. Korvain released
her arms, his free hand burrowing under her shirt like he needed to feel her
skin.

She grabbed his thick biceps, squeezing that muscled heat. His
massive shoulders moved with his deep, hungry breaths as he stared down at her.
His elbows pressed into the mattress, supporting his massive weight. He purred
down into her ear, a vibration that went all the way through her.

She reached out to touch his face, running her fingers along his
jaw, along his bottom lip. Her eyes slid shut when his mouth crashed into hers...

She was suddenly jerked awake. ‘Bryn!’ Disoriented, she looked
around. Light was flooding in from the hallway, her bedroom door thrown wide
open. She blinked, rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes.

‘Bryn!’ She felt like she was coming out of drug-induced sleep.
Focusing on the sound of Mist’s voice, her eyes fixed on the other Valkyrie and
she was instantly awake. Mist was shaking, her face pale, her mouth drawn into
a tight line. In her shaking hand, she clutched a phone.

‘Mist? What is it?’

Mist extended the quaking limb toward her. Her fingers were mottled
white from where she was clenching the phone so tightly. Frowning, Bryn pried
the phone free of her fingers and put it to her ear.

At first she couldn’t hear anything. Then the screaming started. The
sound of it chilled her blood. Looking at caller ID, she recognized the number
as that of one of her Valkyries, Rota. There was a strange ripping sound,
another scream of agony. The connection cut. Bryn dropped the phone, the blood
draining from her face.

‘Mist. Wake the others.’ The other woman was sobbing now, her eyes
red-raw. ‘Mist!’

Her sapphire and indigo eyes finally focused on Bryn’s face. Bryn
touched her shoulder, pulling her face closer. ‘Go wake the others.’ She said
the words slowly, carefully.

The Valkyrie nodded and ran from the room. Bryn stared down at the
phone, her fear and shock draining from her. A new sensation began fighting for
dominance. She let it come, knowing that it would the best she could hope for:
rage. It burned white-hot in her veins, threatening to swamp all rational
thoughts.

Marching over to her closet, she pulled on a pair of tight jeans and
a tee. Swiping the tattoo on her neck, her sword filled her palm. The balanced
weight, the smell of her steel filled her with a sense of calm, with a sense of
retribution. The gold blade seemed to hum in her hand, begging for the taste of
blood.

When she turned around, the others were assembled in front of her.

Mav was wearing leather pants with a black leather vest. Her sword
hung at her side, her fingers idly stroking the pommel; the black steel
glinting dangerously in the light.

Kara was wearing a short skirt and red velvet bustier. Her long hair
had been tied back, a short sword resting against her shoulder like a baseball
bat. Bryn saw the sadness in Kara’s eyes as she looked at Bryn’s sword. Kara
would never again hold the red sword she used to be in possession of, the sword
that had been made for her hand to hold.

Bryn made her eyes move off Kara. That girl didn’t need Bryn’s
pity—not now. She looked at Mist. Her girl looked more collected. The tears had
been wiped clear of her eyes. Now they were filled with a fire to hurt whoever
had gone after Rota. The blue blade she carried had yet to be drawn.

‘Alright. Let’s go.’

Kara couldn’t fade anymore. It was Odin’s one last
fuck-you
to her, so they all crammed into the BMW X6 they kept for emergencies such as
these.

Mist sped through the early morning traffic without stopping—red
lights be damned. Fifteen minutes later, Bryn was sweating bullets. As soon as
the car came to a stand-still, all the women were scanning their surroundings.
The street was quiet, all the humans already asleep.

As they approached Rota’s opened front door, Bryn knew they were too
late. The stench of death was in the air, the sickly scent of freshly-spilled
blood in her nose and on the back of her tongue.

Mav went in first, sword drawn. Bryn followed her soldier in, eyes
scanning. They stopped at the large congealed puddle of blood on the
floorboards in the entrance hall. Bryn swallowed bile.

‘Gods,’ Mist said on a whimper, dropping to her knees. Her sword
clattered to the ground beside her. Kara dropped to Mist’s side, her head bowed.
Bryn didn’t feel like she was in her body, that what she was looking at was
even real. Bryn dragged her eyes from the sanguinary scene, fixing them on
Maverick.

‘Mav, find her cloak,’ she croaked.

She nodded and disappeared up the stairs, her black sword drawn.
Bryn forced herself to look at everything around her, to see all the blood, to
see the evidence of Rota’s last minutes of life.

Bryn felt more than saw Mav return; a shadow standing in her
periphery. She glanced up. ‘Did you find it?’

Mav shook her head, the anguish she couldn’t voice plain on her
face.

Rota was dead.

Bryn’s legs gave out and she collapsed onto the ground, separate
from the others like she couldn’t stand to be near them with Rota’s blood on
her hands.

She had failed.

She
had failed.

The words swirled around in her head until she wanted to scream. She
only realized she was screaming out loud when Mist was taking her hand, talking
her down.

‘Bryn, we have to get out of here. Whoever did this could still be
around, watching for more Valkyries to come.’

She had a point, but Bryn couldn’t make her legs work. Her own
failure was like lead in her blood. She couldn’t purge herself of it. Mist
tried picking her up and failed.

‘Mav, give me a hand.’

When they were back in the safety of Bryn’s apartment, they sat
together in the lounge room, each silently contemplating what it meant.

Kara hugged her body tightly; Mist’s arm was over her shoulders, a
blanket covering them both.

Bryn cleared her throat. ‘I’ll take first watch.’ She looked at the
others, knowing she couldn’t fail them, too. ‘All of you get some sleep. Mav,
I’ll wake you up in a few to take over.’

Mist and Kara shuffled off to Mist’s apartment, leaving Bryn with
Mav. The haunted look in her girl’s eyes tightened Bryn’s chest. Placing her
hand on the other woman’s shoulder, she said, ‘We’ll find out what happened.
Don’t worry.’ Mav nodded and walked off down the hallway.

Bryn sat alone on the sofa letting all her anger rage and roil. How
had this happened? There was only one way. It was more than just a coincidence.

Odin was behind this. He just had to be.

* * *

L
oki needed a
weapon.

He had gone into Roxbury after being discouraged from going there at
night. He was walking along a deserted street when he caught sight of a man up
ahead. His dark skin helped him to blend into the surrounding shadows, his
clothing adding to the disguise.

The human glanced up, hearing the scuff of Loki’s shoes, standing up
to his full height when he was a few feet away. Loki looked at the man from the
corner of his eye. As he passed, the human muttered something quietly.

Loki stopped and turned. ‘What did you say?’

The guy looked up the street, left and right then did it again. When
he was satisfied nobody else was around to hear him, he said, ‘What are you after?’

This expression puzzled Loki, but the man proceeded. ‘You looking to
score?’

‘Score what?’ he enquired.

The man’s eyes made a sweep of the surrounds again before they met
Loki’s gaze. ‘You want H? I’ve got H.’

H. The man who stole his shoes in St Louis spoke of H. ‘What is
this, H, you are talking about?’

The man’s eye twitched before his face clouded over with irritation.
‘Heroin, man,’ he replied. ‘Fuck it. Get outta here, man!’ He turned away from
Loki and started walking up a small laneway.

Was he an apothecary? Loki called after him, ‘Are you an
apothecary?’

The man turned around, glowering at Loki. ‘What are you talking
about, man?’ The human started inching his way closer to him, his interest
piqued.

‘Apothecary. Alchemist. Herbalist.’ The man’s expression changed
from confusion to comprehension with the last word.

‘I ain’t got no Mary Jane, only the hard stuff. So you want it or
not?’ A bitter acrid smell that clung to his clothes got stronger as the
distance between them closed.

had used sounded
strange coming out of his mouth.

The man’s head jerked around. ‘This way then.’

Loki followed him to a large black car parked on another street
close by. The human opened up the back and leaned in. There was a popping noise
and a side compartment opened.

‘How much do you want?’

‘I do not know.’

The guy looked over his shoulder and shook his head. ‘For real?
Look, how about a gram?’ He produced a small plastic bag with whitish-brown
powder in it. ‘It’ll cost you two hundred.’

Loki eyed the bag held up in front of his face. ‘I don’t have two
hundred.’

‘Then get the fuck outta here.’

Loki straightened his back. He had seen the result of the drug on
humans in St Louis. He could use it to subdue the next Valkyrie. Perhaps it was
a better option than a gun.

‘I don’t have two hundred. But I want the heroin.’ He took the
plastic bag from the man’s fingers and disappeared it into his pocket. When
Loki looked up again, the dealer had a weapon pointed at his chest.

Moving faster than the man, Loki stepped aside, grabbing the body of
the pistol and twisting it free of the human’s grip. Loki’s free hand slammed
into the man’s unguarded midsection, doubling him over. Ramming his elbow into
his nose, Loki felt cartilage popping. Blood sprayed in a small arc covering
the man’s face.

The dealer dropped to his knees; a wet coughing filling the night
air. Loki picked up the weapon from where it had landed and looked it over. It
seemed like a simple enough design.

Pointing it at the man’s head, he pulled the trigger. A mass of bone
and brain matter burst over the back of the car and pavement. Loki faded back
into his room at the hotel, the gun still smoking in his hand.

Walking calmly into the bathroom, he turned on the shower. Placing
the gun and the drugs onto the countertop, he got under the spray in his
clothes. The sinkhole gurgled softly, swallowing every trace of blood from
Loki’s clothing. When they were finally clean, he stripped off his clothes and
left them to dry.