Dark Deceit (8 page)

In his pocket were the pages he’d torn from the atlas showing the
United States. He had faded to a city called St Louis, wandering the streets,
seeking out other gods, seeking out answers to the questions burning on his
tongue. Had the humans forgotten? Were there any that remembered, or knew their
stories, the Eddas?

The sun was dipping low on the Mississippi, shedding its golden
light, rippling off the surface of the water. Loki knew he had to find a place
to bed down for the night. God or not, he still had no money, forcing him to
sleep on the streets with the filth and debris of human society addicted to
substances they injected into their arms, fingers and toes. Of course he knew
of these drugs, but now he saw firsthand what they did to the frailty of the
human body.

Turning his back on the Gateway Arch, he headed into downtown St
Louis, scanning the alleyways as he passed. Down one of them, he saw two men
huddling over a small flame, a spoon in one of their hands. He approached
quietly, watching them melt a brown powder in the metal depression. When it
began to bubble, one man filled a needle with the brown liquid while the other
man held out his arm.

Loki watched in horror as the man receiving the injection went limp,
his mouth hanging open, his eyes rolling back in his head.  The man with the
needle then did the same thing to himself, his teeth holding a tourniquet tight
against his arm.

Puzzled, Loki backed away from the two men quietly, turning and
walking away as quickly as he could from what he had just seen.

Loki continued to walk on, the night falling quickly around him. Street
lights went on, but the stretch of street he was on didn’t have the same
coverage as others would have. The urgency to find shelter pressed on his mind.

He was so caught up in his search, he hadn’t seen the man up ahead
leaning casually against the side of the building. Loki’s eyes swept over him.
He was not as tall as Loki, but he had more bulk on his frame despite being an
obvious street person—Loki could smell his stench from where he stood.

He kept his course, walking past the man who fell into step beside
him.

‘You got a light, buddy?’ he asked, producing a crudely constructed
white stick from a pocket in his pants and placing it between his lips.

‘No. I do not,’ Loki replied, slowing his steps.

The man grunted. ‘That’s too bad.’ He slowed to a stop. ‘Hey, are
you looking for somewhere to sleep? Maybe getting something to eat? I know a
place that’ll have space for us if we leave now.’

Loki stopped, turning toward the man. ‘You know where I can find
food?’ Mike had made the same offer to him. Perhaps these humans were okay.

He shrugged one shoulder. ‘Well, yeah. You hungry?’

Loki nodded. ‘I am.’

The man turned back in the direction they’d just been walking. ‘Come
on then. The soup kitchen’s back this way. I’m Butch, by the way.’

Loki let the man—Butch—lead him. He thought it strange he kept
glancing over his shoulder though, but when Loki looked, there were only stray
cats stalking from darkened alley to darkened alley. Loki turned back and saw Butch
watching him.

‘You got nice threads, my man. You haven’t been on the street very
long, have you?’ He chuckled. ‘I bet you haven’t even seen a real winter.’

Loki shook his head. ‘I am new to this place.’ He looked around for
a large building with lights on. That was what soup kitchens were, he knew—a
place where a homeless person could get a meal, maybe a shower. ‘Where is this
place you’re taking me to?’

Butch glanced back at him. ‘Not far. Just another block.’

Loki’s thighs were beginning to burn, his strength not yet fully
returned. They rounded one final corner, and Loki ran into Butch’s chest. He
felt all the bones of his ribs. He smelled the stench of sweat-drenched
clothing, musty with age. He looked around, taking a step back.

‘Have we arrived?’

Loki dropped to his knees suddenly, an immense pain radiating out
from the back of his skull. Another strike to his stomach pushed all the air
from his body, leaving him gasping to draw air back into his lungs. Another
strike to his kidneys sent him sprawling forward onto the pavement.

Then he blacked out.

When he woke, only a few seconds had passed. He was on his back,
staring up at Butch. The man looked up at something near his feet. Loki tried,
but couldn’t get his body to move.

‘He’s fresh. Check his pockets. He’s got to have some green on him.’

There were hands suddenly all over Loki, pushing and prodding,
fingers dipping into pockets. ‘He doesn’t have a thing,’ another male voice
announced.

‘Fuck! I need some H man.’ Butch’s voice and face was strained.

‘We’ll get it. Look, take his shoes. We can sell them.’

Loki lay there as the boots Mike had given him were wrenched clear
off his feet, twisting his ankles into unnatural angles. He may have cried out.
He may not have. Before the men left, Butch loomed above him.

‘Welcome to St Louis,’ he sneered, kicking Loki in the side of the
head. The last thought he had before the darkness swallowed him was that he was
lost in this new world of his.

T
he whole
situation was getting fucking ridiculous. Darrion had deferred this job to
Korvain, but his patience was beginning to grow thin. The male hadn’t hit his
mark yet, which meant Darrion couldn’t hit his mark. He was barely holding onto
his self-control. He could feel it fraying, could sense the snap ready to come.

He knocked on the door, his massive fist hammering the wood—letting
it feel all his anger and frustration. Adrian’s sister appeared through the
glass panel, paling out when she caught sight of him. She opened the door, but
kept the chain on. He wasn’t surprised. He topped off just a few inches shorter
than Korvain. He kept his dark hair oiled back away from his face, leaving his sharp
cheekbones bare. His blue eyes were like ice chips; razor-sharp and calculating.

‘Taer,’ he purred. She was a temptation—there was no mistaking that.
She was all sleek lines, pale green eyes widened with fear and a mouth he
wanted on his cock. ‘You think a chain is going to stop me, little girl?’

‘What do you want?’ she replied cautiously, trying to hide the shake
in her hand.

He smiled, baring his fangs. ‘Your brother’s best friend.’

‘What do you want with him?’ she returned, obviously feeling a
little braver because of the shield she held out in front of her.

Darrion let some of the malice leak from his pores. Taer’s whole
body stiffened; her back going rigid, her eyes popping wide.

‘Where’s Korvain?’ he asked again, lowering his voice, letting her
see the malignance in his cold blue eyes.

‘Out back in the garage,’ she squeaked. 

Giving Taer another fang-filled grin, Darrion walked back down the
stairs and continued up the cracked driveway. On one side, the chain link fence
was bent out of shape like a car decided to get all up-close-and-cosy without
taking it out to dinner first. Glancing to his left, he noticed the curtain in
the bay window closing suddenly, Taer retreating from the glass quickly.

Up ahead, the pull-up garage door was opened halfway, light spilling
out on the driveway like golden blood. There was a grunt, and then another as
Darrion pulled the door up the rest of the way. His two best assassins were
grappling with each other, each trying to overpower the other. Korvain had the
bulk, but Adrian had the speed.

Korvain tackled Adrian to the ground, his knees close to his body.
One arm tangled under Adrian’s neck, the other under his opposite arm to
control Adrian’s head.

‘What are you going to do now, my brother?’ Korvain asked in a cocky,
yet strained voice.

Adrian smiled showing the full length of his fangs. With quick, sure
movements, Adrian brought his left arm across, positioning his forearm against
Korvain’s thickly-corded neck, pressing into it while Adrian’s right arm
burrowed under the other man’s armpit so he could clasp his hands together.

Adrian used the leverage to open up a space where he could slide his
hand through and reach across Korvain’s broad back toward his left shoulder.
Bringing his heels in close to his ass, Adrian stayed on his toes and popped
his hips off the ground. Crossing his right leg behind his left, Adrian twisted
his torso until he was on his knees again.

Grabbing Korvain’s leg, Adrian slid the bigger man toward him,
repositioning his arms around his waist. Korvain grunted in surprise then
laughed.

‘Alright, Ad, you got me.’

Adrian smiled again, releasing his hold. Getting to his feet, he
offered the other male a hand.

‘Well, that was sweet,’ Darrion drawled; enjoying the flash of
surprise and anger in their eyes when they both looked up. He let the door
slide shut, closing them all in together.

Korvain grabbed his shirt from the floor with an angry swipe of his
arm. The tattoo across his shoulders was glistening with sweat, the muscles
beneath bunching and moving with his dominating body.

‘What’s doing, boys?’ Darrion asked, watching them both with
predatory eyes. Adrian’s clear green eyes darted to Darrion’s face. He was almost
as tall as Korvain, but the half-breed, light elf blood flowing through his
veins would never allow him the bulk.

Gesturing at the training pads and weapons littering the blue mats
around them, Korvain replied, ‘Training.’ His voice was dark, threatening.

Darrion cocked a brow at the man. ‘You want to lose the attitude?’
The other male simply stared; his dark, bottomless eyes boring into him.
Darrion returned the favor. ‘We need to talk.’

Korvain screwed the top off a water bottle, glancing over at Adrian.
‘Give us a minute, my brother?’

Adrian’s eyes darted between the two of them, but eventually he nodded
and left. Once they were alone, Korvain said, ‘So talk,’ putting his lips to
the bottle. His neck and shoulders were thickly-corded with muscle; his throat
making short work of the liquid necessity.

Darrion began, walking around the sparring mat. ‘I need an update.’

Korvain had folded himself down onto the mat and started stretching
out his twitching muscles. When he looked up, a bead of sweat dripped down the
side of his face. ‘I’m working on it.’

‘You’re not working hard enough on it.’ His reply was cool, calm—at
complete odds with what raged on the inside.

‘Look, I’ll get it done.’

‘When?’ he snarled back.

Korvain stood up. ‘What’s the fucking rush?’ he asked, towering over
Darrion—crowding him. But size wasn’t everything. Darrion bared his fangs. ‘You
don’t want to do that,
morier
.’

Korvain’s much larger and longer fangs flashed in reply to the dig.
‘You may be my boss, but watch your fucking mouth.’

Darrion laughed in his face.

‘Fuck you, Darrion.’ Korvain’s voice boomed in the insulated room.
‘You came here for an update. You got one. Now leave me the fuck alone so I can
get on with it.’

Darrion’s eyes narrowed. Korvain never flew off the handle. Ever. He
was just like Darrion in that way. Cold. Heartless. But as Darrion probed, he
found Korvain’s emotions were all over the place.

Korvain ground his molars, growling, ‘Stay out of my fucking head,
too.’

Darrion pulled back. He wanted his kill. He had waited too long for
the opportunity, and Korvain’s listlessness was only making it worse. ‘I want
this done in forty-eight hours,
morier
, so I suggest you stop fucking
around in here with Adrian and get the job done.’

‘And if I take longer than that?’

Darrion approached the huge male, tilting his head back so he could
still look him in the eye. ‘You know what happens.’

* * *

K
orvain’s whole
body was vibrating with anger. His hands had bunched into tight fists and he had
wanted to drive his fingers into Darrion’s throat, but he held onto that anger,
that raw energy. He knew better than to goad Darrion into anything more than a
war of words.

The tattoo on his back made sure he couldn’t cause any physical or
mental harm to Darrion. He’d tried it once. It felt like ten thousand volts were
travelling through his body while being hit by a freight train. So, yeah, he
hadn’t done it since then.

His whole life as a Walker was one brutal lesson after another, but
lesson number one had always been the same: don’t get attached to the mark. If he
saw them as a real person, things got complicated.

They were not his friend. All he had to care about was figuring out
a way to fulfill the contract and cover his exit. Kill
them as quickly and discretely as possible and walk away to forget the gurgling
last words, forget the desperate begging, the rage, the hate, the fear.

‘I’ll get it done,’ he replied when Darrion stared at him with his
empty, cold, blue eyes. Eventually, his boss nodded curtly and faded from the
garage. Korvain snarled at the empty space where Darrion had been and started
pacing.

‘Fucking wannabe cocksucker,’ he growled under his breath. Korvain didn’t
know what was stopping him from completing the job. Normally he would have done
the necessary recon, figured out a plan and executed it within a few days. That
was why he was the best: he had the least emotional attachment to the mark.
They were the object standing in the way of another sliver of time off his
contract.

‘She’s nothing,’ he spat. ‘She’s dead already. She just doesn’t know
it,’ he added, pacing the blue mats, curling his hands into tight fists over
and over again. 

‘Korvain?’ a small voice asked from the side door. He glanced up,
finding Taer standing there, her small body trembling. He couldn’t blame her.
Darrion was a scary motherfucker; cold, calculating, manipulative. It was also
no secret that the bastard had had his eye on Tay ever since he’d found out she
was Adrian’s sister.

He slid his anger back into its box before he said a word to Taer.
‘What’s up, Little Fox?’ He watched as her whole body sagged against the frame
of the door. She was training to be a Walker, but he knew the Final Test would
break her. She just didn’t have the will to survive like her brother did.

There could only be one winner in that contest, and the fucker had
to have nerves of steel and the ability to block all emotions out. By simply
being female, Taer was already at a disadvantage.

‘I thought he was going to kill you.’

He’d had exactly the same thought. ‘I’m still here,’ he rumbled,
rubbing a hand through his short hair. His answer somehow gave her the courage
to come a little further into the room.

‘I thought you were in trouble in here...’ she stammered, playing with
the edge of her tee nervously, eyes downcast; eyes the same green as her brother’s.

‘Nah,’ he replied steadily. When it was obvious she wasn’t going to
speak again, Korvain began picking up the equipment he and Adrian had been
using to spar with: daggers of varying sizes, short swords, sticks.

His mind was so busy on the task of cleaning up, and the decision to
kill Bryn, that he was completely oblivious to the other person in the garage
with him. He had no idea anything was different until the whisper of clothes
against skin made Korvain spin around.

Taer stood before him completely naked from the waist up. She had
the body of a woman, all curves and grace. Her breasts were heavy, the areolae
a dark dusty rose. Her stomach was flat and toned—evidence that training with
Adrian had honed her body into a carefully crafted weapon.

He took a step back, frowning, too shocked to form a coherent
thought. ‘Taer, what are you—?’ Squeezing his eyes shut, Korvain was sure when
he opened them he would find it all a dream. He cracked his lids. Nope.

Still Taer.

Still very naked.

She glanced down, her cheeks flushing. One arm came across to cover
her breasts. Her body trembled, her skin covered in goose bumps. ‘I don’t know
what I’d do if you were killed, Korvain. I—’ she blinked up at him with
doe-eyes.

Korvain felt like he’d been slapped flat on his ass. He approached
her in two large strides, picking up her shirt and holding it up against her
naked upper body. ‘Taer, please cover yourself up.’ Gods, he couldn’t even look
her directly in the eye.

‘I want—’ she began, but Korvain silenced her with his fingers
gently touching her mouth.

‘You don’t know what you want, Tay.’

Her pale eyes filled with tears. ‘But, I...I want you to know I care
about you. A lot. And...’ she trailed off.

‘Tay,’ he said soothingly. ‘You don’t know what you ask.’

She shook her head, dark hair like satin ribbons falling over her
shoulders. ‘Please.’

‘Little Fox,’ he murmured, rubbing the tops of her arms.

Her eyes snapped back to his, anger filling them with a black flame.
 She pulled away from him roughly. ‘Stop calling me that! I’m not a little girl
anymore.’ She snatched her shirt off him, cradling it to her chest.

‘Okay. I’m sorry, Taer.’ Korvain put his hands up defensively. He
was one of the best assassins in the world, yet a little girl had him cowering
away in a corner. What. The. Fuck.

‘Taer, if Adrian saw you like this, he’d castrate me...for starters.’

Their eyes met. She was trembling visibly, her mint-green eyes
tearing once more. She turned her back to him and abruptly faded out of the
garage. He knew about her little crush on him. He just had no idea how far the
infatuation went.

‘Fuck me,’ Korvain breathed, dragging his palm across the back of
his head. He looked around aimlessly. ‘Just...yeah...fuck me.’