Dark Deceit (3 page)

F
rigg’s body
reformed at her house in Charleston, the house her darling husband had bought
for her as a peace offering. At her back were her two most trusted Aesirean
guards, Tiki and Vali. Seeing Darrion again had left Frigg shaken, uneasy. He
was still the best lover she had ever had, even with his mean streak.

She turned to her men. ‘Leave me.’ The goddess waved them away as
she swept upstairs to take a bath. Her handmaiden, Fulla, was waiting in her
room. The poor thing was still shaking from her encounter with the Mare.

The young woman turned her wide eyes to Frigg when she entered.
Dropping into a low curtsey, she addressed Frigg as she’d been instructed. ‘My
queen?’

‘I wish to take a bath. Draw one for me.’

‘Yes, my queen.’

Fulla scurried off, the white gown she wore trailing after her into
the bathroom. Frigg walked around her room, touching all the things she found
precious to her; her perfume bottles, her cosmetics, her priceless pieces of
art. She had been called shallow before, but she saw it as appreciating the
finer things in life. Besides, it was Odin’s money that had paid for them all.
And that was half the fun.

The scent of lavender filled the room suddenly, the steam from the
hot water spilling out into the bath drifting lazily through the air. Fulla
reappeared, her cheeks pink from the heat.

‘Do you wish me to help you undress?’

‘Of course,’ Frigg replied, moving toward the three-sided dressing
mirror in the corner of the room. Fulla trailed after her, her eyes on the
ground. Frigg stared at the other woman through the mirror’s reflection.

‘You are quiet tonight,’ she murmured.

Fulla cleared her throat delicately. ‘Yes, my queen.’ Her nimble
fingers started in on the silk buttons on the back of Frigg’s sumptuous red
gown.

‘Why?’

Fulla looked up, her guileless blue eyes wide. They were the exact color
of cornflowers at the height of spring, and Frigg hated her for it. ‘It matters
not,’ she mumbled, continuing down the trail of buttons.

Frigg frowned a little, shrugged and looked back at her glorious reflection.
Although the fabric loosened from her body, she could not breathe easily yet.
Her corset was still firmly in place.

With her hand on Fulla’s shoulder, Frigg stepped out of the dress.
Beneath the yards of scarlet taffeta were matching silk panties.

Her handmaiden returned, standing at her back to unlace the
blood-red corset. Inch by inch, Frigg could breathe once more. Fulla removed
the shell of silk and whalebone over her head and swept it away into Frigg’s
closet to join the countless others she had.

Walking into the bathroom, Frigg’s nipples puckered as her feet hit
the cold tiles, the cool hardness rippling through her body. The bath was
nearly ready. Stepping out of her panties, she slid one foot into the water to
test the temperature before stepping in fully. When she was submerged, Fulla
stepped into the room.

‘Will you be needing anything else, my queen?’

Frigg waved the girl away, asking her to shut the door behind her. Silence
engulfed the room, swamping Frigg. She closed her eyes with a deep sigh, relaxing
into the enamel tub. Water lapped at her chest, tickling her skin.

Darrion’s eternal hatred of Odin had worked in her favor as she knew
it would. Of course there were other things to set in motion, and they would be
as soon as her little birds came back with the information she sought.

Her whole body flushed at the memory of last seeing Darrion.
Although she knew he despised the Aesir, she had to have him. She had to know
what it was like to lay with a Mare. And he hadn’t disappointed her.

His love making was more about dominance than tenderness. He had
tied her up, stripped her down, made her come. He was the most magnificent
lover she had ever had the pleasure of fucking. She shivered, her body
remembering the number of orgasms he’d managed to get from her.

Frigg stayed in the tub until the water cooled. Calling Fulla back
in, she got out and had her handmaiden rub fragrant oil into her skin before
sliding into a silk robe the exact shade as her eyes.

‘Raven has returned,’ Fulla said in a low voice, not meeting Frigg’s
eyes.

‘He has? Where is he?’

‘In your bedchamber, my queen, as you requested when he returned.’

‘Good,’ Frigg purred, brushing past the young woman and stepping
into her mood-lit bedroom. Raven was sitting on the chaise lounge at the foot
of her bed; his arm slung casually along the back of one of the most expensive
pieces of furniture in her collection. His hair was longer in the front than at
the back, covering most of his violet eyes. His skin was bone-white, his
musculature that of an athlete.

‘Raven,’ Frigg said, her voice low, tempting. The demi-god lifted
his eyes to her, the violet appearing through his fall of black hair.

‘My queen.’

‘Have you found the location?’

He nodded, a smile stretching out his mouth and revealing perfectly
straight white teeth. ‘I have.’

‘Tell me where he is. Tell me where I can find him.’ Frigg had been
searching for this place for nearly one hundred years—ever since Odin discarded
her love like it was nothing more than cheap rags.

‘New Mexico.’

She could feel the smile curl her upper lip. ‘Fulla! I need a map.
Now!’ The handmaiden returned with an atlas, dropping into a low curtsey after
giving it to Frigg. Frigg spread the book wide in front of Raven. 

‘
Where
in New Mexico?’ she demanded.

The male’s eyes danced over the country, finally landing on a
location near the Texan border. ‘There.’ His finger pointed at a set of
mountain ranges hemmed in by arid ground and sparse woods. Frigg leaned in
closer. There was only one place where there were accessible caves in that
area.

‘Carlsbad Caverns,’ she muttered, reading the name beside the dot. Her
eyes traced a path from there back to Boston. She smiled to herself.

Close.

So close now.

‘Fulla, some clothes! Now!’

The woman rushed to her closet and pulled out a deep blue gown that
brought out Frigg’s eyes along with a corset.

‘The gown will get ruined. Get me something easier, simpler!’ she
snapped, irritated by the stupidity of the girl.

Fulla blushed, nodded and reappeared with a basic t-shirt, a pair of
dark blue jeans and hiking boots. ‘Will this be sufficient, my queen?’ she
asked breathlessly.

‘Yes, yes, fine. Give them to me.’

Frigg slipped the robe from her slender shoulders, not caring
whether Raven saw her flesh. Time was of the essence. She got dressed quickly, finally
placing her feet into the ugly brown leather hiking boots and fading from her house,
travelling only a couple of hundred miles at a time. By the time she reached
the caverns, the temperature was near freezing.

She wrapped her arms around herself and headed toward the mouth of
the cavern.

‘My queen?’

Frigg turned suddenly. Tiki and Vali were waiting a few feet behind
her. ‘Did you follow me?’ she snapped.

‘Yes,’ Vali replied.

‘We cannot leave you unprotected.’ This came from Tiki. His cool
grey eyes were unapologetic.

‘Fine.’ She spun around once more, stepping over a shallow railing
and onto the cold limestone floor.

Both men clicked on torches, illuminating the way. As she walked,
her two bodyguards remained silent except for the shuffle of their feet on
stone. Frigg’s breath puffed out in front of her face, a reminder of just how
cold it really was. Walking deeper into the cavern, the hairs at the back of
her neck began to prickle.

But she could not turn back. She was so close. Now that Darrion was
in her pocket to remove one obstacle, she needed someone else as a failsafe.
She needed to know that if Darrion somehow failed, Odin would still die. And
there was only one person in all of the Nine Worlds who had hated Odin more
than Darrion and herself combined.

They walked until her back ached and her calves burned. They walked
into the blackness of that cave until she was sure they would end up in another
part of the country when they finally made it back out again. They walked until
there was a blind corner where the struggles of a god possessed could be heard.

She had found him.

She had found Loki.

* * *

K
orvain had faded
to an address in Southie, keeping to the shadows of the house on the opposite
side of the street. It was a piece of shit neighborhood,
no stranger to the red-and-blues.

The houses there looked stretched out and stuck together; sometimes
there was a little laneway separating them. They were like conjoined twins in a
way; identical but wanting their independence all the same.

The lights of the house he’d been watching finally flicked off, the
mark opening the front door and taking the porch steps two at a time. Korvain
inhaled deeply, the male’s scent hitting his nostrils. This was the demi-god he
was chasing.

Korvain pulled the shadows closer to his body, wrapping them around
himself to muffle his footsteps. Skirting around the light, he approached the
car quickly, not allowing the mark to notice the moving shadow. Korvain
withdrew the garrotte wire from a small pouch, his fingers wrapping around the
metal handles. Korvain stepped onto the pavement just as the demi-god paused
and looked over his shoulder.

The male’s blue eyes narrowed. He leaned forward, trying to peer
through Korvain’s shadow-swathed body. Korvain stopped breathing, holding his
position. When the demi-god turned back around shaking his head, Korvain
struck.

Using his height advantage, he looped the wire over his mark’s neck
and yanked back. With nothing but a thought, Korvain sent the shadows wrapped around
his body rushing forward, infesting the other man’s skin and swallowing him
from the view of the humans in the houses surrounding them.

Dragging the demi-god further into the shadows, Korvain drew the
inky blackness in closer to ensure the sounds of his death would be muffled,
too.

The demi-god’s fingers snatched at the wire, scrambling to get air
back into his lungs. He knocked the back of the male’s knees, dropping him to
the ground while Korvain still stood above him. His face remained perfectly
impassive as the guy eventually stopped fighting and started going into spasm;
his body dying.

Korvain kneeled beside him, not taking away the strain, watching as
the last of the mark’s life drained from his body. Legs kicking, body jerking,
the familiar smell of death trickled into his nostrils. He checked his vitals;
gurgled sounds drifting from the male’s throat as Korvain released his grip.
His blue eyes were now highlighted by red, the blood vessels bursting like
fireworks in the whites of his eyes.

Dying was not pretty. Dying was being stripped bare. Dying was being
humiliated as your bowels released. There was no honor in it.

Korvain lay the body down onto the small patch of lawn and went
through his pockets, palming the guy’s keys. He picked up the body and stashed
it in the trunk before getting into the driver’s seat and backing out of the
driveway. Gods, it had been so long since he’d felt the need to dispose of a
body, but this wasn’t an ordered hit. This was a necessity to get the bigger
job done.

Korvain started driving west, getting onto the freeway and heading toward
Cutler Park where the body wouldn’t be found for a little while. He pulled in
at Millennium Park. Gravel crunched under his boots, and he was comforted by
the fact he was the only thing moving for miles.

Popping open the trunk, Korvain cleared the mark of ID; pocketing
his phone and wallet. When he was clean, Korvain wrapped the shadows around
them both and started off on one of the paths that would lead to the marsh.

B
ryn sat at the
bar, her sky-blue and denim eyes drifting from face to face of the humans and
gods alike milling around in the bar on the first floor of
Odin’s Eye.
On the floors above her head, she would have seen the same thing: humans
rubbing shoulders with gods—not that the humans would have known that.

On the second floor was a nightclub, the floor above that, a
gentleman’s club. At the base of each set of stairs leading up to the floors
above stood two bouncers regulating who came through the doors of each section.
The different services
The Eye
provided meant it was one of the busiest
establishments in all of Boston.

At the front door tonight was Maverick. Normally Bryn would have two
bouncers working together, but Mav didn’t like working with anyone, especially
not the humans Bryn mainly employed as muscle.

Bryn took a sip from her glass of 42 Below and stood up to her full
six foot two height. A few males close by turned their heads, looking her over
from head to toe with an appreciative eye. Her slim body, blue eyes and plaited
blonde hair made her the subject of many males’ wet dreams. She hated that she
looked like she did; she simply drew too much attention.

But that had been the point, once upon a time.

Ignoring their lust-filled eyes, she strode purposefully through the
crowd, emitting a presence to others that made it clear she didn’t want to be
engaged in conversation. As the crowds parted, she made her way over to the
front door. Mav had stepped aside to let a group of men in, her shrewd eyes
looking over each of them in turn. The men were bee-lining to the stairs that
would lead up to the upper levels, no doubt heading straight to the third
floor.

Mav’s arm shot out just as the last man trickled through the door.
Her palm landed on his chest, hauling him to an abrupt stop.

‘Not you,’ she rumbled. Bryn was used to the voice that hid behind
the woman’s beautiful face, but the male seemed to cringe back from the sound. Mav
was supermodel stunning, but her voice box had been damaged before she became a
Valkyrie, marring her throat with thick scars. The result? Her girl didn’t like
talking so much.

Mav’s real name—the name she was given when Odin had given her
immortality—was Gunner, and like all Valkyries she had the signature pale skin
and golden hair, but Mav’s hair was shaved close to her scalp. Bryn didn’t know
the real reason why she’d done it, but if it was meant to scare people away
from her, it sure as shit worked.

Everyone gave Mav a wide berth.

Everyone.

Except for Bryn.

The sword tattoo on the undamaged side of her neck sat starkly
against her skin. Like the real blade she could summon, the black steel inked
onto her skin seemed to gleam under the lights. It moved with her body, the
steel catching images and mirroring them. Bryn’s own tattoo was much the same.
The humans stared at it openly, the question whether they could touch it always
on the tips of their tongues.

Bryn’s gaze skimmed down the human male, checking him for any
visible weapons. ‘You carrying?’ she asked him.

The guy’s eyes jerked to Bryn and he shook his head mechanically.

‘Where are you and your boys heading?’

‘
Level Three
.’

Bryn looked over her shoulder, seeing that his friends were already
being swallowed up by the dim stairway. Catching the eye of her head of
security, she cocked a brow at him. Touching the button clipped to the front of
his shirt, Mason’s gravel voice filled her ear.

‘Buck’s night.’

‘They clean?’ she replied, holding his gaze across the room. They
were speaking on a channel reserved just for them.

‘Yeah.’

‘How’s capacity?’

‘Not even half.’

Bryn looked back at the male Mav had stopped. Her girl had a sixth
sense when it came to human’s thoughts and feelings. She’d obviously picked up
on something in his head. ‘Sorry,
Level Three
is full. You’ll have to
wait down here for your buddies.’

‘Bullshit,’ he replied, spitting the word at her.

Bryn arched a brow at him and Mav took a step closer to her,
shielding Bryn’s body with hers. That was Mav though: the perfect soldier.

Bryn looked pointedly at Mav then back at the male. ‘You want to try
that again?’ Bryn asked, her hand perching on her hip. Her feminine voice was a
stark contrast to the chill of menace rolling off her body. It was this feature
that was often enough to stop men like this in their tracks.

The human’s cognac eyes shifted from Bryn to Mav, taking in the firm
muscles of her girl’s arms and the breadth of her shoulders. Eventually, his own
shoulders slumped in defeat.

‘Yeah, alright.’

Bryn and Maverick watched him shuffle into the bar and park it on a
stool. Bryn turned back to the other Valkyrie.

‘You alright?’ She nodded. ‘Need a break?’ She shook her head. Bryn
sighed. ‘Alright.’ Turning back around, she walked back toward the bar and took
up her post once more.

Mist, Bryn’s lieutenant, was behind the thing restocking the shelves
with Skyy and Johnny Walker Blue. Mist’s sleek blonde bob rode her jawline,
swaying ever so slightly as she moved from the shelves to the bar top.

Bryn picked up her glass, the ice cubes knocking together as she
brought the little slice of heaven to her lips and took a sip. The vodka slid
down her throat, burning slightly. Feeling the stab of a new headache
assaulting the front of her skull, Bryn cradled her head in her hands and
massaged her temples.

She hadn’t been sleeping. She couldn’t even remember the last time
she’d gotten a full night’s sleep. She’d tried to remember what time she’d made
it to bed the previous night. Two a.m.? Three? Who the fuck knew. All she knew
was running a human business was harder than the whole
Choosers of the Slain
gig they’d all had to endure before the Fall.

Now, she had to deal with employees, taxes, employee taxes,
suppliers, distributers, maintenance, living costs...it made her want to go back
into Odin’s service for half a second, but then she remembered why she’d left
in the first place.

‘I’m going to go upstairs,’ Bryn announced, picking up her glass and
heading toward the stairs.

‘How’s things, Boss?’ Mason asked as she walked past. Mason was
shorter than her by a good few inches. His hair was cut short—a no-nonsense
type cut. His hazel eyes were slightly too small for his face, but they were
always watchful. He’d saved her ass on a number of occasions.

‘Good, Mason. How’s Sophie?’ Sophie was his German shepherd. Her
head of security was too focused on his career for anything more in his life.
Except for that dog. He loved that dog.

His face lit up at the mention of her. ‘She’s good. Real good.’

Bryn nodded and made her way up to the next level. The deep,
thrumming beats of the nightclub reverberated down to the marrow in Bryn’s
bones, her headache taking on a life of its own. Nodding to the bouncers at the
door, she continued on until she hit the gentleman’s club.

Level Three
was every man’s fantasy come
to life. All tastes were catered for with only one rule in place: don’t touch
the girls. Bryn scanned the crowds spotting the six bouncers she had littered
around the room in addition to the two at the door.

The walls were painted blood-red, the floors carpeted in the same color.
The bar was shiny and black, manned by one barman and a stack of girls wearing
next to nothing, carrying trays balanced on their palms. The stage jutted out
from the wall opposite the bar, a ‘T’ shape that thrust out into a crowd of
dark-wood tables and black leather booths.

The group of men that had come through before were loitering near
the bar—waiting for the entertainment to start for the evening. Bryn deposited
her empty glass onto a nearby table on her way to the end of the stage.

She climbed the few stairs and pushed past the crushed velvet curtain.
The absence of the bouncer assigned to keep an eye on the backstage area struck
Bryn first.

‘Cherry, where’s Winta?’ she asked. Winta was a demi-god. Nobody
knew who his father was. He was UNK and MIA from his life. His mother was
human—a school teacher who’d had a one-night stand twenty years ago resulting
in Winta. It happened more often than not, especially since the Fall.

Cherry turned her green eyes to Bryn. ‘He’s not here.’ She was
softly spoken and one of the only females who wasn’t a goddess working there.

Bryn cursed and pulled the small phone from her pocket. Scrolling
through her contacts, she found Winta’s number, punched the call button and got
ready to rip the bastard a new asshole for not turning up for work.

The damn thing rang out. Bryn tried the number again, but got the
same ring-out-to-voicemail routine. Spinning around she caught the eye of one
of her other guys.

Adrian was a light elf, his pale green eyes and blond hair
highlighting his heritage. They were slight of build, but still had
preternatural strength on their side. There were only light elves left now. The
dark elves—the Mares—had been wiped out under Odin’s command.

‘What’s up?’

‘Winta hasn’t shown up for his shift. You got any friends who can
fill in tonight?’

Adrian palmed his phone. ‘Yeah, I know someone.’

‘You trust him?’

Adrian nodded. ‘With my life.’

‘Good. Get him here, but tell him he’ll have to go ask for me at the
back door. He can’t fade into the building.’

Adrian nodded and made with the dialling, Bryn waiting to get the
guy’s details. After a few yeps and yeahs, Adrian hung up.

‘He’s coming.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Korvain,’ he replied. Adrian glanced up as
Nine Inch Nails
‘Closer’ went stereo. ‘Looks like Kara’s up.’ Bryn watched as Adrian took up
his position, mirroring the stance of the other bouncers around him; arms
locked across broad chests, legs shoulder-width apart. Men flocked to the stage
area, planting their asses into the booths surrounding it.

Kara stepped out onto the stage. She was dressed in a red corset
reminiscent of their uniform in Odin’s army of Blonde and Buxom. The men were
already foaming at the mouth, and she’d only just started to grind and gyrate
to the heavy beat.

Kara’s breasts were large and perky, swaying gently with the rhythm
of her dancing. The men stood at attention, waving bills no smaller than
twenties in her direction.

Satisfied everything was running smoothly, Bryn went down to the
nightclub on the level below, pausing to talk to her bouncers for a moment
before stepping into the darkened room. Where
Level Three
was red,
Raven
was as black as the feathers of the bird it was named after.

The crowds of beautiful people parted before her, throwing furtive
glances over their shoulders. She ignored them. Just like she always did. She
noticed one male approaching her. No doubt he was being egged on by his buddies
who were sitting at one of the banquet tables that lined the walls looking on,
slapping each other on the back in congratulations.

She stopped and turned toward him. The male was shorter than her,
but then again most men were. His hair looked black. She blamed the lighting. He
had a swagger that said he knew how good-looking he was. He was good-looking,
but she wasn’t interested. When he was within arm’s reach of her, he ran the
back of his fingers down her bare arm.

Bryn’s teeth snapped shut, trapping the growl. The human smiled a
million-dollar smile and stepped into the line of her body. Tilting his head up
to her ear, he said, ‘How are you doing, beautiful?’

‘I was good until some asshole invaded my personal space and touched
me without permission.’ She made her voice sugary sweet.

He stepped back with a puzzled expression on his face.

‘That means you, asshole,’ she snarled. ‘Back the fuck up.’

His brown eyes went wide, but he did as he was ordered, scurrying
back to his buddies with his tail between his legs. With the shake of her head,
Bryn proceeded in the direction of the bar. She was breaking in a new bartender
tonight.

‘Dex, how are you doing?’

The human looked up from pouring a drink and smiled. He had dark
hair that flopped into eyes the color of melted toffee. He had more piercings
than she’d ever seen before, but he came with good references and from what
she’d seen so far, he worked hard.

‘S’all good, Boss,’ he grinned, flashing straight, white teeth.

She nodded. ‘Good. Give me a yell if you need anything.’

She turned toward the door when Mason’s voice crackled to life in
her ear. ‘There’s someone down here asking for you.’

‘Who is it?’

There was silence before he said, ‘Korvain.’

‘I’m coming down. Show him into my office.’

Bryn walked back down the stairs until she hit the first level
again. Turning left, she pushed open a door that opened up into a long hallway.
Directly in front was the door leading out into the back alley. She turned and
made her way down the hall. On her left was the unisex change room, on her
right was her office. Mason was standing guard outside her office, his massive
arms criss-crossing his chest.

‘Says he was asked to come by.’

‘He was.’ She put a hand on his arm to move him out of the way. But
he didn’t. She looked at him, her hand squeezing his arm gently. ‘I’ll be
fine.’

‘He looks like an axe murderer,’ he muttered. ‘A Calvin-Klein-looking
motherfucker, but still an axe murderer.’ He didn’t budge until Bryn patted his
arm.

Mason’s chest heaved up and down, but he moved. Stepping past one of
the only humans she actually liked, Bryn opened up her office door and stopped
dead when all the air came rushing out of her lungs.