Sun's Tear (The Valkyrie's Passion Book 2): A Valkyrie/Shifter Romance (4 page)

“Because this isn't the dark ages,” I screeched. “Magnus isn't really a Viking, and I'm no shieldmaiden eager to throw myself into battle and slaughter my enemies. That is not how it is done these days.”

“You slaughtered Fenrir,” Muninn said. He had been silent, but now he spoke. “How is it different?”

“He was a monster.”

“Humans can be just as monstrous,” Huninn pointed out.

“This is not the first time the Blood Eagles intended you harm,” Muninn added. “Talon tried to assault you when you wandered into their bar. If you had your powers awakened then, you would have cut him down.”

“Because he was attacking me.”

Huninn flapped his wings and descended from the electric cable. The raven landed on a brass casing missed by the police. He picked it up in his beak and flapped his wings a few times to land at my feet. He dropped it.

“Is this not an attack, Valkyrie?”

I stared at the shell casing, a pit hollowing my stomach. Early today, I had told Magnus I could kill the Blood Eagles if they attacked me. And they had. But to track them down and kill them in cold blood. That was not me.

I would not do that.

“Leave her be, Huninn,” a gruff voice said.

My back stiffened. Odin had arrived.

Raven

I wasn't happy he wore the appearance of Owen. I mean, Odin was Owen, but I had liked the broken, grizzled Vietnam vet idling away his sunset years in the Boar Coffee and Cafe. He had seemed so friendly, not the man who would throw me into Utgard and so casually tell me he would destroy me if I failed to obey.

My heart thudded as Odin strolled towards me.

Odin wore the same army jacket, patches sewn on each sleeve of the 81st Armored Brigade Combat Team, a US Army National Guard unit stationed in Seattle. Their insignia was a raven, stylized like a Native American totem.

Huninn and Muninn alighted upon Odin's shoulders, perching on either side of his grizzled face. Odin looked friendly. I didn't buy it. I folded my arms and waited for the one-eyed god to say something. He squinted that one good eye at me.

“Still angry at me?”

“I will always be angry at you,” I answered.

“Fair enough.” He reached behind him and somehow produced a carved piece of wood, thin and narrow, as long as my arm, the end sharpened to a point. Runes decorated the length.

“A spear?”

“A javelin,” Odin corrected, pushing it into my hand. The pointed end sparkled in the light, the wood imbued with a golden stain there. “The weapon that killed my son, Baldur.”

My hands stared at the glittering gold soaked into the tip. The blood I had seen across the road last week after I witnessed the glowing, wounded god stumble out of the brush and pass through my car.

“His killer is moving against me.”

“The Thief?” I asked.

“Thief?” Odin furrowed his eyebrows. “Why did you say that?”

“Heimdall called the...thing that killed him that. It was a walrus-creature. Fat and blubbery, with tusks and gray skin. And he was the Thief of something.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” Odin demanded. The kind-hearted Owen vanished completely from his face. Only Odin, the God of Battle and Death, remained.

I shrugged, unwilling to be bullied by Odin. “I had just fought Fenrir and almost died. It hardly seemed important.”

Odin's fist clenched. “This...Thief may have killed my son, and he may have been the one who loosed the wolf Skoll to devour Sol, the goddess of the sun.”

“The shadow that swallowed the sun was a wolf?” I asked. “Is this about the tear that fell from the sun?”

Odin nodded. “Ragnarok hurtles towards us. This Thief seeks to end the Aesir.”

“Aesir?”

“The gods. Me, Freddy, the rest.”

Maybe the gods should be killed. Why where they around? Mankind had grown past the need of them. They could just go away and leave us in peace.

“That Sun's Tear has to be found. It is Sol's essence. It will allow her rebirth. It cannot be allowed to fall into the hands of this Thief.”

“What is the Tear?”

“Do you feel the chill in the air?” Odin instead asked.

“Yes.” A shiver ran through me.

“Sol, the sun goddess, has been consumed. The great ball of fire warming Midgard was, obviously, not harmed, but the embodiment of the sun was swallowed. Sol no longer shares her radiance and warmth. Her fire.” Odin poked me in the chest. “Your fire, Valkyrie. It is diminishing. Without finding the Tear, the power of the gods will continue to wane. We will be weak, and then this Thief can see us killed.”

“Why can't you find it?” I demanded. “You have more power than I do.”

“Yes,” he answered. “But there are rules. I cannot use too much of my power in this realm without consequences. The last time I unveiled my true appearance, to save you from Fenrir, the energy crackled across the world. Mighty storms were unleashed. Your United States had record outbreaks of tornadoes. Powerful hurricanes and typhoons ravaged the world. I unleashed all that torment, risked plunging the world into an ice age, all so I could save you.”

Because I was important.

“Why?” I answered. “What made me so special?”

To my utter shock, he hugged me. I stiffened. “You are one of my Valkyrie. You are Sigrid's daughter. You are like my own granddaughter. I risked it to see that you would grow up.”

And yet Odin had no problem letting me fight Fenrir as an adult, even though the beast had already killed my parents.

“No other reason?” I asked.

“None.” His beard was rough on my cheek as he gave me a kiss; my skin crawled. “I know you are angry with me, but I do what I have to do to protect Midgard and humanity. I gave up my eye and was hung from the Yggdrasil to learn this wisdom. You need to stop being hostile to me and obey.”

“I'll find the Sun's Tear,” I said, my fist clenched. “I really don't have a choice. Magnus and I are your slaves.”

He pulled away and sighed. “Slave is such an ugly word. I prefer employee.”

“Then we can quit?”

Odin shook his head. “Not now. Not when you're needed.”

We were his slaves. “How do I find the Tear?”

“Can't you feel its warmth now?”

I frowned. My cheek burned where his lips had touched me. My skin was still covered in goosebumps, but my right arm didn't feel as cold as my left. I turned and felt the warmth of the sun on my face in the direction the Tear fell.

“Yes.” I sighed. I had no choice. “I'll find it.”

“Good,” Odin said. “Muninn and Huninn will watch over you. Just like when you were in Utgard. You were never in danger until the end.” He paused. “I didn't know Fenrir would be unleashed. I expected you to fight Heimdall in a duel to prove your strength and win his approval to come back home.”

Was that a lie? If we hadn't gone over, we might not have been there to fight Fenrir and save Odin's life when the wolf came for him.

Why couldn't things go back to the way they were before the Frost Troll had appeared? I just wanted to be happy and held in Magnus's arms. Why did I have to be a Valkyrie?

I needed Magnus. He had to know what was going on. The Cursed Stump was near the HEMA training center. As Odin departed down the road, I raced inside Magnus's apartment to grab the keys to his truck.

Magnus

“We need to hit them back,” Jim snarled, smashing his fist into the dark-stained table. His face was flushed. The chunk missing from his nose only made the man appear more dangerous.

“Yeah,” Rick agreed. “Let's burn down their bar and when they come running out, gun them down.”

“They want a war, we'll give them a war,” growled Vince, his hands stroking his thick, black beard. “We have our stash of weapons. They used full automatics on us. I say we answer in kind. Burn the bar and shoot them on the way out.”

“And their women?” I demanded. “There's more than just Blood Eagles that hang out in their bar. We'll have no innocent blood staining our hands.”

“Is there innocent blood in there?” Jim asked.

Big Hoss glanced at me, his eyes tight.

I smashed my fist down on the table. “If we start killing their ol' ladies, they'll start hitting ours. That's not how we act. We'll fight the Blood Eagles. We'll show those fucking pigeons what happens when you mess with a wolf, but I'll hear no more talk of hurting their women or other innocents.”

“They have that brothel they give protection to,” Thomas, the Sergeant-at-Arms of the Black Wolves, pointed out. He leaned back in his chair, arms folded, relaxed. He always insisted on being called Thomas. “My pa gave me the name, so it's good enough for me,” he would say whenever someone tried to call him Tom or Tommy. “We can raid it, scare off the Johns and the girls, torch it. We'll make sure no one is hurt.”

Big Hoss gave a low rumble. “That'll embarrass 'em.”

“It's deep in their territory,” I said, considering it. “If they're smart, and I am assuming they are...” A few chuckled at that. “...they'll have eyes out for us crossing over into their territory. Your raid sounds like it'll take time. We might not have it. We could get caught penned up in the brothel. There's only one road up to it.”

Thomas nodded his head in concession.

“We need to put two in the hospital somehow,” Vince snarled. “They shot our prospect. Blood needs to be answered for.”

“Yeah,” Thomas nodded. “We can't show them weakness.”

“Anyone heard about Dwayne?” I asked. The kid was tough and eager to earn his patch.

Big Hoss pulled out his phone and texted Sam who had gone to the hospital to keep tabs on Dwayne. Big Hoss had a fancy phone, touch screen, 4G and all that bull crap. I still used my old flip phone. I didn't see the need for all those apps and games.

Just ways to rot the brain.

A moment later his phone chirped. Big Hoss shook his head. “He's still in surgery.”

“What other plans do we got?” I asked. “Something doable.”

“Magnus, I'd like to reconsider the brothel hit,” Thomas said, leaning forward and clasping his hands before him. The Mötley Crüe t-shirt he wore stretched across his broad chest. “The problem is how long it will take to evacuate and burn the building, and that it will be sure to draw the Blood Eagles.”

I nodded. “We're not going to be stupid. We're no shit-brained pigeons.”

“Well, what if we turned that to our advantage.” A cruel grin spread across Thomas's face. There was a reason he was the Sergeant-at-Arms—he had a steely pair in his jeans.

“How?” I asked.

“The brothel's all by itself up Draws Road. Only one way in and out.”

“Easy for us to get trapped,” Big Hoss pointed out.

“Also easy for us to have an ambush. If, say, we leave most of the boys hidden in the woods. We wait for the Blood Eagles to race up the road and we unload on them.” Thomas leaned back in his chair, the wood groaning. “We hit 'em hard. We got the fire power. We'll show them not to fuck with us.”

“Lot of heat,” I said, rubbing at my chin.

“Nothing that the cops can prove,” Thomas smiled. “The weapons can't be traced to us. We wipe 'em clean of our fingerprints, wear gloves during the attack, and leave them behind. The boys who raid the brothel will have masks and can't wear their cuts. Only ones who will know are the Blood Eagles, and their survivors ain't gonna talk.”

“Say what you will about them pigeon shits, they ain't gonna talk to the cops,” Big Hoss nodded.

I chewed my jaw. “We have one guy shot, and you want to put their entire club down?”

“That drive-by could have done a helluva lot more damage.” Thomas's face grew dark. “We were fuckin' lucky. A bullet almost took my head off. An inch over, and I wouldn't be here right now.” His eyes focused on me. “And what about your new ol' lady. She was there. What if she was the one in the hospital.”

The wolf's rage howled through me. I let out a snarl. My hands clenched. He was right. They had tried to kill my Valkyrie. I slammed my fist down hard on the table. “Vote!”

There was a splitting groan as a crack ran across the wood, splitting in half the howling wolf burned into the wood's surface.

“Fuck, let's vote,” Big Hoss said, his eyes wide at the crack. The table was hard oak. I shouldn't have cracked it.

~   ~   ~

Raven

I had never driven a truck. It was...different.

The cab was higher than a car, and I could feel all the weight of the vehicle as I drove it down the winding road into Maple Valley. And I had to work at turning the steering wheel. It didn't have power steering. Who made a vehicle without that?

My shoulders grew sore as I maneuvered the truck.

I reached the bottom of the hill where the road entered Maple Valley and waited at a stop sign for my chance to turn right. Some of my anger had left me as I shivered. I didn't like feeling cold. Something had gone wrong with the sun.

Sol was dead. Her essence shed in a brilliant, golden tear.

I glanced up at it. The sun seemed as bright as ever. The day felt warm, and yet I wanted to put on a sweater. The people walking through town all wore shorts and light shirts. I was the only one feeling the change in temperature.

Odin was right. The sun was my power.

Unless he was lying. He had lied to me ever since I knew him. He never told me that I was a Valkyrie or even that he knew my parents. He sent me off on my date with Magnus knowing it would end up with his death.

I needed to tell someone the truth. I wished I could tell Magnus, but with the temper the werewolf part of him possessed, the berserker, he might do something stupid. Like try to kill a god to free me. It was the stupid and so romantic thing he would do.

But it would get him killed again. And my kiss wouldn't bring him back a second time.

I would not have Magnus's blood on my hands.

A car honked behind me. I blinked. The road was clear. Flushing, I did a quick right turn onto the street and drove through the heart of Maple Valley. I was pretty sure the Cursed Stump was this way. What a weird name for a bar. Why would anyone call their bar that?

I passed the strip mall that housed the HEMA training center. Heat flushed through me as I remembered Magnus's strong arms around me. I glanced through the tinted windows. If we had lost control and made love, everyone would have seen us. Those windows were not tinted enough.

A few blocks past the strip mall, on the edge of town, was the Cursed Stump. It reminded me a lot of the Blood Eagles' bar, though I wouldn't mention that to Magnus. The bar had wooden shingles and a gray exterior. Flashing neon signs for various beer labels filled the dingy windows. A line of bikes parked in front. A sign, sitting atop of a twenty-foot-high pole, showed a man in flannel kicking a gnarled stump.

I pulled the truck into a parking space next to a sporty looking coup that definitely seemed out of place at a biker bar. There were a few other trucks, most dented and dirty, the paint faded by hard work. These weren't the trucks of guys showing off their supposed masculinity by buying the largest truck Ford had for sale.

These trucks were owned by men that actually worked for a living.

I climbed out of the cab, my stomach tightening. I had to let Magnus know what was going on. We had to find that Sun's Tear and fix things. I shivered again. My arms were covered in goosebumps.

I pushed through the doors and into the bar. It wasn't what I expected.

Sure, it was a bar with tables, booths, poor lighting, a small stage for a local band to play on, pool tables, and dart boards. It had a slight, stale smell of spilled bear. It was fairly clean. A jar of pickled eggs sat on the bar while an old man wiped at it with a stained rag.

What I hadn't expected were all the women. There were over a dozen of them, ranging from as young as eighteen to as old as fifty. Most were towards the young end, wearing tight clothing, their hair dyed and cut in strange styles. They looked tough and sexy all at the same time, piercings studding eyebrows and lips, tattoos covering arms or the slopes of their breasts.

They all turned to look at me. I felt so...plain. I didn't have anything more than a single piercing on each ear. These were the bikers' women, their ol' ladies. Magnus always talked about them as weak-willed women.

I had no idea why they glared at me.

“Bar's closed,” the old man said. “Special event.”

“I, um, I need to speak to Magnus,” I said.

A woman, stout and older, stood and marched to me, her impressive set of breasts held up by a black corset. She had a big heart tattooed on the inner slope of her right breast with the name Big Hoss written in the middle.

“So, you're the little thang that has Magnus all wrapped up?” she demanded.

A few of the younger women, all slutted out, gave me jealous looks.

“Yeah,” I said, annoyed by her tone. “And I'm here to speak with him, so out of my way.”

“Listen, little miss thang,” the stout woman said, planting a finger hard between my breasts.

I arched an eyebrow and stared down at her. I was the tallest woman in the room. I was a Valkyrie. I would not be called little miss thang. “It's Raven.”

The woman was not impressed. “Little miss thang, the boys are in church. They do not want to be disturbed. So you can plant your pretty little ass on a bar stool and wait for them to finish.” She poked me again with her hard finger. “You don't need to worry your pretty, little head about nothin', miss thang. Your man will take care of business.”

I grabbed her finger and pulled it away from my chest. “You poke me again, and you'll regret it.”

The other women oohed and aahed.

The woman balled up her fist and took a swing at me. My feet slipped into the stance Magnus taught me as I twisted and dodged her attack. I had fought monsters and had the scars to prove it. I could take this woman. Her second attack came on the heels of the first.

“Kick the skank's ass, Madge,” a woman shouted.

I caught Madge's arm and twisted. She gasped in shock. I doubt she thought I was stronger than her. I may be tall, but I didn't have a muscular build. But being a Valkyrie had its advantages. I twisted her around and pushed her against the bar.

“The name is Raven,” I hissed in her ear as I twisted her arm. “Okay.”

“Sure,” she groaned in pain. “You can let go, Raven.”

“You're not going to take a swing at me when I do?” I demanded.

She twisted her head around and flashed me a smile over her shoulder. “Naw, you got spunk. I can see why Magnus is wrapped up in you.”

I let go of Madge's arm and stepped back. She rubbed at her shoulder and gave me an appraising look. “You look like some soft city slut, but you got backbone.”

“Oh, I was raised in the country,” I winked at her. My eyes scanned around the bar. There was a door with a sign that read: “Wolf's Den.” I pointed at it. “Magnus in there?”

“Yeah, but he will not be happy if you go bargin' in there?”

“It's important,” I shrugged.

Madge seized my wrist and pulled me back. “Girl, nothin' is more important right now than what those boys decide in there. It's a war. Do you understand that? Those pigeons gone and crapped on us, and the boys are decidin' how to strike back.”

“This is more important than the silly rivalry.”

Every woman in the bar shook their heads.

“You don't get it, girl,” Madge sighed. “The club is their life. It's important. It's our family. Right now, you need to support your man, not make things worse with what ever silly thing has your panties twisted into a wad.”

“Trust me, this isn't some silly thing.”

“Fine. You need to learn the hard way.” She let go of my hand. “But you need to understand, the club is more important to Magnus than you are. He just met you. I know you're all in love and you think the world revolves around the pair of you, but it don't. You're about to get reality knocked into that pretty, little head, Raven, if you go bargin' in there and interrupt their business.”

How could Magnus's little club be more important than our love?

No, it wasn't. Magnus and I had been through a lot in our first week. We had fought and bled together. We had a powerful love. This woman had no idea what she was talking about.

I marched across the bar. I could feel all the women's eyes on me. My back set as I gripped the doorknob and ripped it open.