Gods and Mortals: Fourteen Free Urban Fantasy & Paranormal Novels Featuring Thor, Loki, Greek Gods, Native American Spirits, Vampires, Werewolves, & More (91 page)

This was no longer passion. It was a deeper need too, and I couldn’t bear to deny him what I also longed for. The connection to another human.

A shadow flitted by at the edge of my vision. I strained to make out any features, barely catching any details. Just that it was another girl. With fair hair and glittering eyes. I couldn’t be absolutely certain, as I was unable to see wings to verify it, but some instinct told me I was in real trouble.

Astrid had just witnessed me making out with Aidan.

I
donned
my armor the next morning with an undeniable sense of dread. All I could think about was what Astrid planned to do. She really had the dirt on me now.

Turi fluttered about the room, filled with excitement for me. “Your very first procession since your arrival at Asgard!” she said in a sing-song voice. I barely heard her. Memories of last night shadowed my thoughts.

I’d left Aidan standing in the dark and fled through the kitchen. By the time I reached Sigrun I’d decided I wouldn’t tell her about Astrid. Guilt ripped me up but I didn’t want her to stress over being caught. I was really hoping Astrid hadn’t seen Sigrun around Valhalla. I’d rather go down alone than take my friend with me.

At the training field, the news wasn’t good. “The procession is delayed until after lunch,” Fenrir announced. Unhappy murmurs rumbled through the gathered Valkyries. Fen growled. “In the meantime, we will practice our sword techniques.”

Thankfully, my brand new ancient sword was strapped to my waist, its bright gleam hidden inside the intricately patterned scabbard. It wouldn’t be my first time raising the great sword of Brunhilde, but I felt a multitude of butterflies doing the rumba in my tummy. Fenrir set us out on the field, keeping me to one side. Satisfied with the rest of the groups, he positioned himself before me. I mimicked his stance.

He drew his sword from his side with a smooth and silent flourish. The perfect approach to a smooth kill. When I did the same, it had a completely different effect. As I slid the sword from its scabbard, it sang. The metal slid out of its casing, ringing like a soft bell.

Every Valkyrie on the field slowed to a dead halt and turned to stare at me. Astrid’s face whitened with rage. A small cluster of women whispered and Brunhilde’s name floated to me. Sigrun sent me an encouraging smile, but Astrid’s expression sent chills through my very bones.

Fenrir tried to keep a straight face, but it was so easy to see he was incredibly amused. By what, I was unsure. Was he enjoying my discomfort or Astrid’s anger or the Valkyries’ surprise? But his eyes were only on me.

“Pay them no mind.” He stepped forward and launched into a series of intricate moves, which I copied well enough, secretly glad I hadn’t made a fool of myself.

The other Valkyries slowly returned to their own sparring practices, but I continued to feel Astrid’s gaze.

At last Fenrir stood back and assessed me. He nodded. “Okay. We need to get you partnered up and practicing those moves.” He turned to scan the gathering of women, a contemplative scowl on his face.

Unfortunately, Astrid chose that particular moment to cut her opponent’s weapon from her hand. The sword, thin and silvery, so pale it was almost white, swirled like a boomerang and landed at Fen’s feet. Was it some quirk of fate that the bad girls always get what they want? Always. They get the guys and the money and they always get their own way.

Suitably impressed with her display, Fen crooked a finger at Astrid and she glided over. The smile she gave him was certainly no teacher-student one. He ignored the seductive glance and said, “You two, pair off and practice. Oh. And Astrid?” She looked at Fen, eyes wide and innocent. “No funny business. This is practice and nothing else.”

As soon as she turned to face me, I knew I was in trouble. The smile that teased her pouting lips disappeared, murdered into a straight, tight line. Her eyes glittered like gems, cold, hard and empty. She bent her knees, bobbing on them to settle into her gravity center.

I did the same, holding out my sword, easing its weight into my arm as if it were merely an extension of my body. The sword, despite its heavy appearance, was incredibly light and easy to use. I swung it, making large figure eights around my body like I’d seen in many a martial arts movie. And the threatening move kept Astrid at bay until I was ready.

We circled each other, her bright blue eyes narrowed, darkened, a sea portent of a coming storm. Astrid didn’t scare me, though. Her intentions worried me, but I felt no fear. The knowledge boosted my strength. She thrust, her sword glinting in the morning brightness. I blocked with the flat of my blade, the impact sending vibrations through the bones of my arm.

Astrid shook out her arm, clearly affected by the impact as much as I’d been. She stepped a pace back, as if biding her time, but I had no intention of allowing her to rest up. I thrust upward, and around, landing a blow on the armor on her forearm. The clang echoed the silent crow of achievement ringing inside me. A rustle of approval went through the group.

We were the day’s entertainment. Shadows moved at the corners of my eyes. The entire class of Valkyries gathered around us. I felt the support and encouragement from many of them and it bolstered my confidence further. The only problem was that it strengthened Astrid’s anger, too.

Her eyes darted around us, from one face to the next. Her pale skin, so milky white and perfect, was now marred by red splotches of anger. She tossed her sword from hand to hand, hunching over, watching me with thinned eyes, while an air of menace grew around her, thick and sour. At her back her ivory wings fluttered, mirror to her rage.

I tried to calm my nerves, breathe my heart back into its normal rhythm. I was ready. Bring it on. And she did. Thrusts and parries galore. Astrid went a bit mad for a while. I could have sworn she growled her unhappiness when I landed the second blow to her torso.

Damn Fen for standing and observing as if we were an interesting science experiment. What the hell did he want? Bryn shish kabob? The woman only got furiouser by the minute. She delivered a blow to my chest that almost stopped my thudding heart.

Astrid smiled. “What is the matter, novice? You do need to pay attention. It shan’t be my fault when you get stabbed in the chest.”

Er. A little help here, Fen? This woman wants my blood!

But he made no move. Apparently the safety of my skin was not high priority. At least Sigrun seemed concerned, eying Fen out with a threatening stare.

I gritted my teeth, trying to forget the pain of each individual breath. The chainmail had protected me from grievous injury but I had no idea what was going on beneath the metal. Bruises galore, most likely. I concentrated on watching Astrid. Her eyes, her body, her stance. I tried to predict what her next move would be.

She charged again, grunting on the follow-through, putting all her strength behind the blow. Bilious fear rose in my throat. She really meant to hurt me. I watched the thrust, waited for just the right moment and dodged the sword, leaning back so far that I almost fell over. The momentum of the blow, with all her energy and body weight behind it, pulled Astrid along in a wide arc. One that made it easy for me to swing my sword at her calf and trip her onto her rear end.

She landed with a thud, splattering mud onto both our armor. Just as a precaution, I slipped my sword beneath her chin as she gasped for breath. Better to have her down and out than trying to cut me off at the legs. Cheers and applause went up around us, and Fen stepped into the circle. Finally.

“So, there you see a lesson on how not to fight. Do not let your emotions control your movements. Channel them into your actions.” He patted my shoulder. “Good job, Bryn. Astrid, I expected more from you than getting whipped by a novice.”

He turned and left the field. But not before I caught the slight smile that lifted the corner of his mouth. Behind him, a steaming Astrid stared daggers at his departing back as she hauled herself to her feet. Fen had nothing to fear from Astrid though. Me, on the other hand...when she turned on me, her eyes glittered, narrowed. She shoved her face close to mine. “Do not get too happy, little novice. You might need to hone those skills before too long. The life of a certain person may just depend on it.”

Any doubts that it had been Astrid whom I had seen the previous night dissolved. I swallowed my fear, refusing to let her see me emotionally weak. I just knew she was talking about Aidan. And she confirmed it when she whispered, “You should have chosen a better spot to get cozy with your lover. Hopefully you have said your goodbyes.”

She left me as soon as Sigrun arrived. Left me gulping for air as fear drowned all thought and feeling in me. Sigrun gave me a worried look but said nothing. I paid little attention to my friend. I closed my eyes and saw again my embrace with Aidan in the shadow of the carved pillar. And saw the flash of light hair. What bad luck to run into Astrid, of all people. What had she been doing in Valhalla? It was just as forbidden for her to enter the hall as it was for me.

And what did she mean? I wanted to run after her and beat the information out of her. But common sense prevailed. She’d never give in to me, even if I did beat her to a pulp.

But something didn’t sit right. Why was Astrid so desperate to get rid of me, to demean me? Could it all be just her own anger and envy toward Brunhilde? Or was there more than just Astrid’s personal vendetta working against me?

Whatever she had planned for me right now had everything to do with Aidan.

W
ith my mind
stuck on Astrid and her intentions, I missed most of the procession. It had been unimpressive to begin with. Nothing like Mardi Gras or the Fourth of July. Just a bunch of Warriors in polished armor leading the procession, with Freya on her mount bringing up the rear. Her dark hair and smoky eyes swept over everyone.

The most impressive thing in the entire procession wasn’t Freya’s blinding beauty but that of her incredibly beautiful dress, made of finely meshed golden chain armor. I found myself trying hard not to stare, in case she caught me and thought my attention was for her and not the garment she wore. The entire battalion of Valkyries filed in and marched behind Freya. By some fortunate turn of events, I was positioned just to the right of the Sleipnir she rode, the best place to admire her golden robes.

We reached the castle where the new Warriors were led into Odin’s Hall along with the Valkyries. Sigrun and I exchanged looks of surprise. The Warriors we’d retrieved just days before were also gathered within the hall. I was relieved to see that, though they looked tired, they were in good health. From the looks of it, they would commence their training soon.

Freya walked up to the dais where another throne now sat beside Frigga’s. She seated herself with sheer grace, her expression so serene and demure it was hard to imagine she was capable of being the passionate Warrior that she was.

“This seems to be all wrong,” Sigrun hissed beside me.

“What’s wrong?’

“Firstly, Freya is never late. Secondly, the untrained Warriors are never presented to her. She only ever wants to see the trained
einherjar
.”

Sigrun’s discomfort put me on edge. I scanned the hall for Astrid. She was easy to spot. I glimpsed familiar wings and armor, and her position at Freya’s side didn’t surprise me. I hadn’t yet met the goddess Freya in person, but already I wasn’t entirely sure I’d be a fan. Not when she gave privileges to the likes of Astrid.

I waited with the rest of the audience, though not with the same bated breath as the rest of them.

“Goddess Freya, your people are gathered here to welcome you home for the Choosing.” Odin’s voice boomed around the Hall. He inclined his head to his wife. “The goddess Frigga is ready to aid your choice.”

The two women conferred, and so began the Choosing. The gathered Warriors were inspected and discussed, with Frigga frequently leaning over to comment. Soon Freya had amassed her half of the Warriors, who stood ready and proud before the dais.

Then Freya rose and walked off the dais toward her regiment. In a well-orchestrated move, the Warriors lowered themselves onto their left knees and awaited their leader’s blessing. Once done, she moved toward the Valkyries assembled on the other side, giving us the once over.

When she paused before me, the amber pendent at my neck grew warm. So warm that it burned a cold fire against my skin. Freya stared, her eyes drawn to pendant. When her gaze rose to meet mine, I shivered. Her eyes were now the same amber shade as the gem around my neck.

“What is your name, child?” Her voice was soft and gentle, with no trace of menace or anger behind it.

“Bryn Halbrook.” I felt slightly off balance, unsure if I should curse or bow or refer to her as Majesty or ma’am.

“Well, Brynhildr, it seems you possess something that belongs to me.” Freya’s eyes sparkled, glimmerings of gold gathered at the corners.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” I was more shocked than defensive.

“We will discuss this later, my dear. I will call for you.” I met her cold eyes and tamped down a shudder. Somewhere within the depths of her eyes lay a frigid soul. Those glowing golden teardrops in her eyes were nothing but cold gold. With those words, she swept away, back to the dais.

She remained standing, clearly not done with her speech.

“It would be remiss of me not to thank those who have helped to care for and train my Warriors,” she said. “To the Valkyries, my strong women warriors. And to Fenrir and his remarkable team, for honing them into powerful and strong soldiers who can help defend the House of Odin.” A resounding cheer went up, from Warriors old and new, Freya’s and Odin’s. And from the Valkyries too.

“And this brings me to a decision that I have made just this morning. I usually only make the Choosing from the trained Warriors. But sometimes, I see a Warrior who is so worthy that it really does not matter if he is not fully healed or fully trained. It does not happen often, but today there is one Warrior whom I want. With the All-Father’s blessing, of course.”

Odin nodded, forehead creased, no doubt curious about what Freya was up to. He didn’t seem to think anything untoward was going on as he granted her request. Freya turned to the audience, silencing the whispered questions buzzing around like a little swarm of curious bees. “The Warrior I have chosen is so new to Valhalla that he is still recovering, so I will go to him.”

Sigrun shuffled beside me. Was this another one of Freya’s departures? I met Sigrun’s eyes and raised a questioning brow. She gave a slight shrug, but her eyes held concern. Sigrun suspected something was amiss. And I couldn’t deny that my own heart was slamming against my breastbone.