Dark Deceit (12 page)

K
orvain woke to
the sound of his phone vibrating on the night stand. Reaching out, he palmed
the thing and answered the call.

‘Korvain?’

Korvain sat up in bed, wiping his face with the back of his hand.
‘Bryn?’ Her voice sounded strange, sad almost. His chest tightened a little.
‘What’s wrong?’

A long pause.

‘Nothing’s wrong...I just need to see you down at the club.’

‘Okay. I’ll be there soon.’

He thumbed the phone and dropped it into the tangle of sheets. He
looked over at the clock. It was nearly six o’clock in the evening. Maybe she
wanted him in on another shift.

He dressed and armed himself before fading to just outside the rear
door of the club in the darkened alleyway. His body vibrated with a combination
of the wards, which protected the building, and anticipation of seeing Bryn
again.

He raised his fist to the door, but before it made the connection,
the door snicked open. Bryn must have been too busy to answer. He pulled open
the external door and stopped.

He listened and heard...absolutely nothing.

The club was quiet, and he wasn’t talking about a small crowd, he
was talking about no-lights-no-music-no-people quiet. He went through the door
that led into
The Eye
, his gaze sweeping the room. There was absolutely
no movement, the lights off, the hum from the small refrigerators behind the
bar the only sound. Turning around, he headed in the direction of Bryn’s
office. A sliver of light pushed out from beneath the door, a soft sound like
sobbing vibrating through the wood.

Korvain turned the knob and eased the door open with his foot; the
light spilling out onto his lower body. Bryn looked up briefly. She was curled
up in her office chair, her eyes red, wet streaks trailing down her face.

An unfamiliar feeling floored Korvain—a foreign, wrong feeling that
threatened to pierce the armor he had worn since
entering Darrion’s service. It left him desperately trying to catch his breath,
to force air into his lungs. But when he looked at Bryn so close to breaking,
he pushed the cloying feeling aside and focused only on her.

‘Where is everyone?’ he asked gently, easing the door closed behind
him. Her scent engulfed him instantly.

‘Club’s closed for the night.’

He let his surprise roll over him before replying. ‘Why?’

Bryn shrugged and dragged herself out of the chair, only to reach
for a desk drawer. She pulled out a bottle of vodka and cracked the lid,
dropping it into the waste paper basket beside her.

‘Look, I’ll come back later.’

He turned to leave, but Bryn’s whispered words stopped him. ‘Don’t
go.’

Sucking in a deep breath, he turned to her again. She had the bottle
on her lips now, tipping it back, her throat working down the liquor as if she
was dying of thirst. Korvain winced. There was that feeling again. He rubbed
absently at a spot in the middle of his chest. ‘You want to tell me about it?’

‘No.’ Bryn tilted her head back and took another mouthful. Her eyes
slid shut, her face contorting before straightening up again. When she opened
her eyes, there was pain sitting behind them.

Korvain approached the desk. Bryn’s wary eyes watched him, her
fingers cranking down harder around the glass in her hand.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?’ he asked softly, perching
himself on the edge of the desk, facing her. Bryn moved the chair back a
little, hugging the bottle to her chest.

‘No.’

He was getting tired of hearing that word. He tried again. ‘I’ve
been told I’m a good listener.’

She sighed, defeated. ‘Just forget about it, Korvain.’ Bryn ran a
hand through her hair. ‘I don’t even know why I called you here,’ she muttered
under her breath.

He frowned at her.
She
had asked him to come.
She
had
asked him to stay. Why was she pushing him away now? Leaning forward, he took
the bottle from her fingers.

Bryn tried to snatch the bottle back, but Korvain drew away from
her, taking the bottle and placing it on the desk top beside him.

‘Give me the fucking bottle...Now!’ When Korvain denied her with the
shake of his head, she lurched forward. She lost her balance, the move sending
her sprawling into his arms. He caught her easily, taking her weight and
holding her close. She struggled in his arms, pushing and swearing to break his
hold. Locking his thighs around her hips, he drew her in closer to his chest.

‘Just let go, Bryn,’ he murmured softly.

‘No,’ she cried. ‘No, no, no!’ Her fist landed on his chest,
slamming into his body over and over again. ‘No.’ The last word was barely a
whisper. Bryn had collapsed into his arms, shuddering, her face pressed into
the hollow of his neck. He felt something wet slide down his skin, slipping in
under his shirt and rolling down his stomach.

He knew as soon as he’d drawn her in that he shouldn’t have. He was
getting too close. Lifting his free hand, he went to push her away, but found
he couldn’t do it. She just fit too perfectly against his body. Pumping his
hand into a fist a few times, he finally flattened his palm and began rubbing slow
circles on her back. Bryn’s body calmed almost instantly, her sobs slowing. She
relaxed even further into his arms until he was wearing her like a second skin.
Dipping his head, he stuck his nose behind her ear and drew in the scent of her
hair.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that—him holding onto her,
her hanging onto him like he was the only solid thing in her life. It was her
rasping voice that finally broke the silence.

‘One of my girls was killed last night.’ Bryn cleared her throat.
‘She...her body was gone, but there was enough blood on the ground to tell us
that she was,’ she coughed, ‘dead.’ Korvain let the words sink in.

‘Are you sure? I thought Valkyries were immortal. Could she have
just been taken somewhere else?’

She made a noise in the back of her throat, pulling away to look at
his face. ‘Immortality is a lie,’ she replied. ‘Cut us and we’ll bleed, do
enough damage to our bodies and we’ll take our last breath just like everybody
else.’

‘But what about...’ he paused.

‘About what?’

He stroked her long hair down her back, lingering on the softness of
it. ‘Nothing.’

Bryn exhaled sharply. ‘Korvain, can I ask you a favor?’

‘Name it,’ he replied, running strands of her thick blonde hair
through his fingertips.

‘Can you please keep a close eye on the other Valkyries out there?’

His brows popped. ‘Kind of like security?’

She nodded. ‘I’d pay you, of course.’

‘Of course,’ he muttered to himself. ‘How many are we talking here?’

Bryn pulled away from his arms, scrubbing her face with a hand. She inhaled
deeply. ‘There are five more of us. They all live in Boston, in and around
Beacon Hill. I’ve spoken to them all, but they don’t believe they’re in any
danger here.’

He studied her solemn face. ‘But you think they are.’

‘Yes.’

‘You know something more, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘But you’re not going to tell me, are you?’

She shook her head slowly. ‘No.’

He blew out a frustrated breath. ‘I’m going to need to know who I’m
looking out for if I’m going to be able to protect them.’

Bryn’s eyes darted to the bottle of vodka. ‘I’m going to need that
if I tell you.’ Korvain passed her the bottle, watching as her throat worked
down the liquor.

Bryn wiped the back of her shaking hand across her mouth. ‘Odin. I
think Odin is the one after them.’

Korvain whistled through his teeth. ‘You’re sure?’

‘No, but there are too many coincidences,’ she said.

Korvain shrugged—deciding against pushing for more information—and
crooked his finger at the bottle. Bryn handed it over, their fingers brushing. Bryn
seemed to shake herself before sitting down in the office chair, grabbing a
spiral notebook and a pen as she did. With her head bent over the paper, she
scribbled down something then handed it to him.

‘These are the names and addresses of the other Valkyries. If you
could just check on them, I’d really appreciate it.’

He looked at the list and nodded.

‘Can you go and check on the girls now?’ she asked.

‘Sure.’

When he was outside in the hallway, the tightness in his chest
roared back to life again. He looked at the closed door and cursed. He wanted
to be back in there with her. He wanted to be close to her again.

But then he remembered with terrifying clarity; he was supposed to
kill her. He growled. ‘This is no time to be getting fucking attached.’ Dragging
a hand down his face, he left the building and faded away. He would get a grip
on this. He had a job to do, but he didn’t have to enjoy doing it.

* * *

T
he scent of the
Valkyrie’s perfume lingered in the air behind her, setting up an easy trail for
Loki to follow. The click, click, click of her heels echoed, bouncing off the
walls of the surrounding buildings. On a street corner, she paused and peered
over her shoulder.

Then she disappeared.

With a soft curse, Loki faded too, having no doubt she would be
going straight to her home. He was right. He rematerialized at the walk up on
Myrtle just in time to see his prey throwing harried glances over her shoulder
and fumbling with the keys in the lock.

The disjointed tangle of metal fell to the ground, and Loki moved
in. Wrapping one hand around her shoulders and chest, he brought the syringe of
heroin to her neck and depressed the plunger, the woman going limp in his
hands.

‘The wonders of the modern world,’ he muttered to himself.
Potato-sacking her over his shoulder, he picked up the keys and let himself
in—away from the prying eyes of humans.

Loki dropped the Valkyrie onto the living room floor, her head first
hitting the edge of the granite coffee table before cracking against the
floorboards. The scent of blood immediately flooded the room, hanging there
like a heavy perfume. Loki sucked in a deep breath, savoring, rolling the flavor
around on his tongue. At the rate he was killing, he would have his revenge on
Odin sooner than he had planned.

Leaving the unconscious and incapacitated Valkyrie behind, Loki exited
the living room and started up the stairs. Up on the landing, he followed the
long hall runner down to the end, to the bedroom that stunk like the goddess
downstairs.

Her bedroom was a copy of what was downstairs. The walls were
painted a soft shade of pink, the bedspread and dust ruffle on the large bed a
slightly darker shade. Running along the opposite wall to the bed were a series
of doors. Opening the first, Loki discovered a bathroom, but behind the second
was a walk-in closet.

Flicking on the light, he dropped his eyes to the ground, searching
for the ash box her cloak would have been in. There were shelves stuffed with
clothes and shoes, but no box. His gaze drifted up. There. Putting his feet
onto a lower shelf, he boosted himself up and dragged the small wooden crate toward
him.

Inside, the white swan feathers gleamed.

With a smile curling his lips, Loki took his prize back to the
Valkyrie in the living room. He kicked her awake, her eyes cracking wide, her
breath sucked in on a hiss. Her glassy eyes blinked, trying to focus. The drug
was running through her blood, holding her hostage in her own body. Making soft
mewling sounds at the back of her throat, the woman tried to move.

Crouching down, balancing on the balls of his feet, Loki stroked
some of the blonde hair from her face and placed a finger over her mouth. ‘Shh.
You’ll wake the neighbours.’ Loki’s fingertips dragged to the open skin over
her brow. Her eyes watered, her breathing became rapid and irregular.

Her blood had run into her hair from the cut, cruor decorating the
strands like red droplets of water. He could tell she wanted to move away, but
the drug held her still.

Dragging the box closer, he opened it and reached inside. His bloody
fingers smudged the feathers as he took the cloak out and looked it over. The
Valkyrie’s pitiful protests were the perfect soundtrack as Loki fingered one of
the feathers, running it through his fingers softly. If he listened closely, he
could hear the soft rasp against his skin.

He tugged at the feather, pulling it free, watching with morbid
delight as the Valkyrie’s skin turned grey. Her body convulsed uncontrollably,
doubled-over. In his hands, the cloak wept crimson tears. A well of blood
formed where the feather had been plucked, quickly running into a steady stream
dropping to the floor with a soft
tap
,
tap
,
tap.

The blood polluted the surrounding feathers, turning them pink. 
When the Valkyrie stopped shuddering, Loki took another feather in between his
thumb and index fingers and repeated the action.

The drug must have been wearing off because she screamed that time. It
was wordless, but no less satisfying. Fresh blood welled and joined the steady
stream from the cloak. A grin pulled up one corner of his mouth, watching as
the blood dripped down his hand, his wrist, his forearm. The scent of her pain
flooded the room, the smell of her impending death an even stronger bouquet.

Two down. Eight to go.

And Odin was going to get a surprise in the morning.

E
ir had finished
her shift at Massachusetts General Hospital aching and stiff. Working for
nearly twenty-eight hours straight in Emergency took it out of her, but she
wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world. Besides, she wasn’t really
doing that much—the doctors did more, worked harder. And she was used to it.

Her natural proclivity to heal had helped her through the years of
study, study she had to regularly retrain in. Before modern medicine, a cold
could kill someone. Now, there were drugs to help with everything—even the
fight against cancer.

Eir flexed her hands, feeling them still tingling from overuse. Her
palms would be sensitive for the next twelve hours or so until she’d healed
herself. It was funny how that worked—she could help people to regulate their
breathing, or improve their circulation just by laying her hands on them and
they would improve almost instantly, but it would always take her longer to
heal herself.

‘See you tomorrow, Eir!’ Stacy the receptionist called as Eir waved
her goodbyes. The double glass doors slid open, a rush of cold air greeting
her. She could have faded straight home, but she found the fresh air helped her
heal a little faster. Turning left out of the doors, she started walking back toward
her house in Beacon Hill.

Inside the small pocket of her bag, her phone started to ring. She
fished it out and held it to her ear with her shoulder. ‘Bryn?’

‘Hi Eir. How are you?’

She checked for traffic before stepping out into the road—even as
sparse as it was at this time, there were still idiots driving around. ‘I’m
good. How are you?’

‘Good.’

Silence.

‘Is something wrong? Has somebody been hurt?’ She glanced at her
watch. ‘I’m just leaving work now, I can be at the club in a minute.’

‘No, it’s not that. I just wanted to check in on you, see how you’re
going.’

‘I’m busy with work, but everything else is fine.’

More silence.

Bryn never called without good reason. Eir was on Grove walking toward
Myrtle, the hush of her soft-soled shoes barely making a sound on the pavement.
She drew her purse strap closer up her shoulder. She didn’t have to worry about
people mugging her in this neighborhood, but when she
glanced up and noticed a huge man propped up against the side of a house, she
decided to cross to the other side of the road just in case.

She glanced back over her shoulder, horrified to see the man had
disappeared. The hairs at the back of her neck prickled. She picked up the
pace, still holding the phone to her ear. ‘Look, Bryn, I’m sorry, but I have to
go. I’m walking home.’

‘Fade home now. Call me when you get in so I know you made it back
safely.’

That was an odd request from Bryn. ‘Is something going on?’

‘It’s nothing. Call me when you get in.’ The line died. Eir slipped
her phone back into its pocket, momentarily taking her eyes off what was going
on in front of her.

As she looked back up, she yelped, slapping her hand against her
neck. It felt like she’d just been stung by something, but that was impossible.
There weren’t any insects around at night to sting her. Her skin suddenly felt
very warm even with the night’s cool caress of the soon-to-be-arriving fall.

She walked a few more steps until she lost mobility in her limbs,
staggering, listing to one side, and catching herself on the side of a
building. Her breath began to falter, feeling like she was dragging mud into
her lungs. Her head began to swim, her vision coming in and out of focus. Eir
tried to fade back to her house, but nothing happened.

She slumped down onto the ground, her eyelids feeling heavy. A
shadow obscured her vision. She sensed it was a man, and he wasn’t human. He
crouched down in front of her, two fingers sliding along the side of her neck,
feeling for her pulse.

The world slipped out of focus and she was dumped into a black
abyss.  

* * *

K
orvain watched
as the Valkyrie passed him. As soon as she’d caught sight of him, her fear
began to leak out of her. Crossing the street to distance herself, Korvain
pulled the shadows in more tightly, disappearing from view. She glanced over
her shoulder to see where he was. She should have been relieved, but he could
still smell fear wafting behind her.

That had to be Eir. He could smell the thick cloying scent of
antiseptic on her as she’d passed, and her eyes were unmistakably Valkyrie.
Bryn had noted on the list that she was their healer.

Muffling his footsteps with the shadows, he followed her. She still
had her phone pressed to her ear, and Korvain wanted nothing more than for her
to fade back to her place instead of doing the social thing.

‘Look, Bryn, I’m sorry but I have to go. I’m walking home,’ she said
into the phone. A pause punctuated the call before she asked, ‘Is something
going on?’ A moment later she hung up and put the phone back in her bag.

A man appeared from the shadowed doorway of one of the houses when
her head was down, stepping out and falling into step behind her, unnoticed.
The man raised his arm and struck at her neck. Korvain was too far away to intervene
in time.

She struggled on for a few more steps before collapsing against a
red-brick house with black shutters beside the windows. The man crouched down
to take her pulse, an empty syringe in his hand. She barely moved as he slid
his arms under her legs. Korvain kicked into motion, his long stride eating up
the ground.

‘Hey,’ he yelled, much louder than normal. The man’s head jerked up
and around. ‘Get away from her,’ Korvain rumbled. The man’s eyes narrowed, his
pale jade eyes glowing. He stood up, their eyes meeting on the same level
before his skimmed down Korvain’s body in assessment.

‘Stay out of this,
morier
,’ the man spat. Korvain fucking
hated that name, but it also told him two things. First, the fucker knew he was
a Walker, and the second, and more important thing, was that he was also a god.

Korvain pulled his karambit from the shoulder harness. Securing it
with his index finger, he stylistically twirled it in his hand before
positioning the blade down against his palm, ready. ‘I said leave her alone.’

The guy smiled and immediately pulled a gun on him, training it at
his chest. ‘I’d like to see you make me.’

Korvain closed the distance immediately, quickly positioning himself
just outside the weapon in his hand and close to the god. The other male tried
to track his movements with the muzzle of the gun, but Korvain had already
hooked the double-edged, talon-shaped blade under and around the guard, cutting
his trigger finger.

The bastard jerked, a loud hiss escaping his lips. Ignoring the tang
of blood in the air, Korvain continued his maneuver;
his actions fluid, graceful. He trapped the gun against his chest, twisting to
release it from the grasp of the god.

The man squeezed his injured palm into a tight fist, an angry growl
vibrating out from between his tightly-pressed lips. Driven by anger and
desperation, he lunged toward Korvain’s hand. Korvain circumvented the movement,
repositioning himself to drive a sharp knee into the man’s thigh. Howling in
pain, he bent over, giving Korvain the opportunity to strike toward the god’s
chin with his karambit.

Blood instantly welled, looking black in the night. Hooking the
blade back into the crook of the male’s elbow, Korvain forced the limb to bend
inwards and up. The god snarled at him, his eyes glowing.

Realizing his disadvantage, the god faded from Korvain’s grip even though
it shouldn’t have been possible. Korvain looked around, turning when he sensed the
other male behind him.

The gun was wrenched from his grip suddenly, the butt smashing into
his head, breaking open the skin above his eye. Korvain grunted, trying to wipe
blood away from his eyes with the back of his hand. When he could see again, he
swiped at the god again, aiming to cut open his belly.

There was a pop as he lunged, the coward faded out of reach, but not
before slamming his foot into Korvain’s kneecap. His teeth ground
together—enamel on enamel. He roared out loud, the blood pounding in his ears,
but kept his weapon ready in front of him.

Silence reigned in the quiet night street, except for the steady
breathing of the Valkyrie as she felt the effects of whatever the god had
injected into her body. Korvain’s chest was heaving. Blood flowed more freely
from the cut above his eye, and his knee screamed each time he put any pressure
on it, but at least the girl was safe.

Staying alert and focused for a few moments more, Korvain finally
decided to extract her from the street, and get her to a safe place before the
god returned.

He picked her up carefully, ignoring the pain that shot up his limb.
Blood pattered slowly from his hairline, trailing down his forehead, over his
eye and along his cheek. It dripped on the Valkyrie in his arms, but there was
nothing he could do about it.

He couldn’t fade with the weight, which left him only one option.
Korvain wrapped the shadows around him and the woman in his arms, and started
in the direction of the club.

The sun was beginning to lighten the sky when he finally made it
there, the last of his shrouding shadows dripping away with the new day. Eir
had started to come around while he’d been walking, mumbling in the drug haze,
pushing against his chest. He held her closer, softly murmuring into her ear to
calm her down. It had worked for a while, but she was starting to throw off the
effects of whatever had been forced into her body and was getting restless.

Propping her up on her feet, Korvain wrapped his arm around her
waist, and began pounding on the back door. He looked up into the camera
installed there, and the door clicked open, leaving Korvain to usher the
injured Valkyrie inside.