Valkyrie Concealed Read online

  “Hel is dead now. We have a god killer too.” Gwydion hooked a thumb in Kirby’s direction.

  Hel was dead for now would be a more accurate statement. After reviewing Brit’s warning, so many months ago, Kirby, Starkad, and Gwydion realized they needed to wait before going into the TOM academy.

  Supposedly, interrupting the ritual would make things worse. Hel hadn’t laid out an intricate plan that could be disrupted with one missed step. She’d made her resurrection inevitable.

  Kirby and her men were working to figure out where the loophole was, and hoping they discovered the answer before it was too late. Too bad they didn’t know when too late was.

  “Hel isn’t the god pursuing Azzie.” Finn’s irritation yanked Kirby back into the conversation. “And full offense—you people have done a shitty job with your protection racket.”

  Kirby couldn’t argue that. She’d grown lax with her trust, giving it to Gwydion and Min because Starkad did, and because her heart and body wanted more from them.

  She was lucky things worked out with Gwydion. Min hadn’t been the one to sell out the potentials, but someone he trusted was. And Min was on his way to making the same mistake with Brit.

  “No one’s going to stop you from fading into the woodwork.” Kirby told Azzie. “If you do, we won’t pursue you again. Urd will write you off and leave you on your own.”

  Azzie grabbed one of Davyn’s donuts—her third—and bit into it. She held Kirby’s gaze the entire time and washed the food down with a long drag of milk.

  Hardly threatening.

  “If you were me, would that bother you?” Azzie asked.

  Kirby hadn’t meant her words as a threat. They were a statement of reality. Not being on Urd’s radar would be a relief. The only reason she continued to operate within the system was for access to Urd’s resources.

  “No. It wouldn’t bother me at all,” she said. “In fact, if I were you, I’d run as far and as fast as possible from any group of gods and servants larger than the one you travel in. Leave town. Hide. Pretend you never heard of the prophecies.”

  Kirby wished she could.

  Chapter Three

  Min was learning to see the world through a different lens. One that showed not just beauty, but also danger. It wasn’t a natural instinct. However, since discovering one of his closest associates had been selling him out for years, this new type of observation had become necessary.

  Brit parked his car on the street, in front of a cozy ranch-style house with immaculate landscaping. What did she see when she looked at the place? What would Kirby see? Was the car in the driveway normal? Were the neighbors peering through curtains, watching everything?

  The man who lived here was a potential god Min had relocated, to keep him off TOM’s radar. Was he safe? He was Min’s top priority.

  Min was reaching out to the lower-risk potentials, offering an apology and another relocation. So far, every meeting had gone smoothly. He wouldn’t let himself become complacent, though.

  He and Brit stepped from the car and she handed him the keys. One of the many rules—Starkad’s, not Min’s—in place, to keep an eye on her. She drove. Surrendered the keys at stops. Only owned items he purchased for her. Agreed to random checks of her luggage and any other belongings.

  When Brit had awoken from death, Min hadn’t let her go. He’d helped dozens of people relocate over the past few years, and all of them had asked some version of, am I a prisoner?

  He always told them no. With Brit, he didn’t hesitate to say yes.

  She didn’t argue or try to run. She agreed to the rules—they were better than life at TOM. And she’d agreed to help with these relocations.

  Min only took her help in situations where he could recover if she betrayed him. There had been no sign that was her intention, but Kirby loved to point out lulling the victim into a false sense of security was part of TOM’s training.

  Brit knocked on the front door and stepped back next to him. She was mostly here to act as firepower, but her presence and appearance—the cute, girl-next-door blonde—greatly diminished the odds of the neighbors calling the cops on a large black man walking around the neighborhood in the middle of the day.

  The door opened, and Kyle grinned when he saw Min. “Hey. I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “I’m sorry to drop by unannounced.” Min would rather call every one of them, but he wanted to give TOM as few chances as possible to track their movements. He didn’t tell Brit where they were going until she needed directions, and never whom they were seeing. She wasn’t privy to where potentials were relocated to. No one was, except for Min.

  Kyle shook his head. “I was actually just stepping out. I’m in a bit of a rush.”

  “You need to make time for this.” Brit’s tone was cool.

  Kyle stared at her. “Beg pardon?

  The first few meetings, Min had been more polite. Several of the potentials were happy to see him, since he’d given them a large sum of money and offered them a new life the last time they’d talked. But that didn’t mean they were looking forward to being uprooted a second time.

  Brit sighed. “You have five minutes, and we can’t give you privacy. Collect anything sentimental. Leave everything else behind. You’ll be provided for in your new location.”

  Min let her be the enforcer. It came naturally to her. He was operating under the assumption she was near-impossible to kill, based on the fact that Hel tried. He hadn’t been as hesitant to test her immortal boundaries as he had been with Kirby. Brit never argued. Min inflicted wounds of progressive severity, to see if she would heal.

  She always did, but it wasn’t instantaneous, like Min’s ability. And injury caused her pain. If she betrayed him, he could disable her long enough to stop her.

  “No. I don’t have time for this.” Kyle’s cheer vanished. He started to close the door.

  Brit shoved her foot in the opening. “This isn’t a negotiation.” She wasn’t allowed to be rough or get physical—they were here to protect these people. She tended to be imposing, but this level of aggression was out of character for her.

  “Please.” Min hid his concern about the shift in Brit’s behavior. This was a bad time for her to tip her hand if she was going to betray him. But the results would be the most effective for her that way. “Your location may have been compromised, and I want to get you someplace safe.”

  “Again? No thanks. I’ll take my chances.”

  In the end, it was always the potential’s choice, and Kyle had been warned of the danger and consequences. Min rested a hand on Brit’s arm, to warn her, pull her back, and disable her if needed. Disable. He didn’t want to do that.

  Brit wedged her foot further in the door, and Min tightened his grip on her forearm.

  THE EDGES OF MIN’S power licked along Brit’s skin, and she clenched her jaw. Kyle wasn’t alone in the house. She’d felt something in the air as they strode up the walk. A new sensation that screamed danger, and she didn’t like it.

  She stepped back from the door. “My apologies.” Her voice was sugar sweet.

  Barging in at this point was dangerous anyway. She was off her game if it took the threat of harm to remind her of that. Then again, nothing in her head had been the same since Hel killed her. Brit’s training was still there, but parts of it were no longer instinct. In some ways, she felt like a first-year student all over again.

  “What was that?” Min growled as they walked back to the car.

  This situation was a great example. She could see all the variables but didn’t know what to do with them. It was causing her to stall. “Keep walking. He’s not alone in there. And if it’s TOM with him”—which was the assumption—“they know who I am.”

  “Fuck.” Min didn’t falter. For a big bossy guy, he took instructions well when needed.

  Brit’s first impulse was back—the desire to barge in, shoot the threat in the head, and hope no one got caught in the crossfire. Wrong answer.

&nb
sp; She had to think past that, to an appropriate next step. “He’s still alive for a reason. They had him answer the door and tell you no for a reason. You drive.” She slid into the passenger seat. “Two blocks north, and stop at the convenience store,” she said when he was seated.

  “Why would they do any of that?” Min’s scowl was fierce.

  Brit didn’t fear much these days. Especially not the teddy bear of a god of sex and life, who adored Kirby more than he did almost anything else. “I’m sure there are a lot of reasons. Guessing won’t do us any good. Getting him out alive will.”

  “Why the convenience store?”

  “I want a hat to commemorate our trip. I also want you to ask to use the restroom, take off your undershirt, and loan it to me.” She needed a disguise. A baseball cap would hide her hair, and Min’s shirt would hide her frame.

  A TOM team consisted of two people—a sniper and a spotter. The pair couldn’t watch the entire house at once. Brit needed a little luck to figure out which spot they were least likely to be keeping an eye on.

  The front door. Brit had approached from that direction once, and no one launched a direct frontal assault.

  While Min took care of things inside the convenience store, Brit sketched out next steps in her mind. He returned and handed her the disguise.

  “Great.” She reached for the door handle. “Leave here, do a wide circle around the block, and return to the house in five. Tell Kyle you’re sorry I was so pushy.”

  Min grabbed her wrist, his grip tight. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Where am I going to go? I’ll meet you at the house. We’ll get your guy out, and then you can lock me away again.” She didn’t have any magic powers, beyond healing from some pretty serious wounds. She couldn’t fly or teleport or shoot lightning. She could hit a target dead center at one hundred meters without a scope. That was the only thing that made her valuable to Min, and the only reason he didn’t just lock her up in a cell somewhere, to keep her away from the woman he loved.

  When Min showed up alone, they’d start looking for Brit someplace else, but that meant leaving one person with the potential and only one set of eyes for every other angle.

  Min let her go. “Don’t make me regret this.”

  She gave him a tight-lipped smile. Sure, if she were trying to win his trust so she could betray him, this was exactly what she’d do, how she’d act, to convince him she meant no harm. But she just wanted him to trust her. Period. I brought this on myself. Not as comforting a thought as the first thousand times she’d repeated it, but something she needed to remember.

  The walk back to Kyle’s house was full of her trying to keep a low profile, while not looking suspicious to anyone who did see her. Much harder to do during the day in suburbia than in the middle of the city.

  But the sun was warm on her face, and she hadn’t been allowed to wander alone outside since she came back to life. Her spirits lifted as she strolled.

  Brit cut a random path between houses before she drew within visual range of any windows in Kyle’s place, ducking behind bushes, fences, and cars.

  Min pulled up right on time. She couldn’t let him see her; he was painfully honest and might tip her hand.

  She was close enough to hear him knock again, and to hear Kyle say, “I already told you—”

  “I’m sorry about my companion,” Min said. “She’s a bit hotheaded, and I left her to cool off. It’s imperative that you hear me out.”

  A version of the truth. By now, the TOMs would be on alert. Best to get in before they had time to reach more of a conclusion than she’s around here somewhere. She strode at double speed toward the door, drawing her pistol.

  Kyle’s eyes grew wide when he saw her.

  Brit didn’t—couldn’t afford to—hesitate. She kicked the door open, caught TOM One off guard, and shot him in the forehead.

  “Get down.” She shoved Kyle behind her, as a bullet bit into her right shoulder. Pain rocketed through her, and her gun arm went limp.

  Chapter Four

  Min watched in horror, as a woman stepped into view across the room, weapon drawn. He yanked Kyle back further, as Brit was shot.

  She grunted and faltered. The half second it took her to switch her gun to the other hand didn’t give Min enough time to think about next steps. Her body jerked, as another bullet caught her in the chest.

  Brit pointed and fired.

  The other woman dropped to the floor like a heavy sack.

  Brit spun, wobbling on her feet. “Anyone else in the house?”

  “No.” Kyle looked and sounded terrified.

  Min didn’t blame him; Brit was bleeding freely.

  Min shrugged out of his suit coat, folded it into a tight square, and pressed it to the hole in her chest.

  “Thanks.” Pain spilled from her reply. “We’re leaving now. I’m in no condition to check the rest of the house.”

  “What about my—”

  “Now.” Min cut Kyle off, ushering him toward the car.

  Brit collapsed in the back seat. Thank creation the upholstery was black leather. It would shrug off most of the bleeding and hide the stains.

  Not that Min cared. The car could be replaced. Brit hadn’t hesitated to put herself in the line of fire. He’d call it a death wish, if she could die. It hurt, though. She’d willingly taken the hit and the pain, to save a potential.

  Starkad was wrong; Brit was redeemable.

  “Don’t we need to get her to a hospital?” Kyle kept glancing back at Brit as they drove.

  “Nah. I’m good.” The strain was fading from her voice.

  Min sent a message to the cleanup team, letting them know there were two bodies. He kept an eye on traffic behind them. One trick Brit taught him early on—how to spot if he was being followed.

  The next steps were simple, compared to what Min and Brit had just been through. When He was certain they were safe, he’d leave Brit in a motel room. A friend had created a portable prison. Min could install it in the room, and Brit could wander freely inside the confines but not leave.

  Then Min would get Kyle to a new location, and he’d retrieve Brit when he was done.

  “Thank you.” Kyle’s gratitude rushed out in a heavy breath. “I have to admit I always doubted this whole I-might-be-a-god-thing was real. Those two showed up and told me you were on your way. Said if I made you go away, they wouldn’t kill me.”

  Brit lay back on the seats. “Why didn’t you incinerate the assholes?”

  “I don’t think that way,” Min said.

  “You need to start.”

  “No.” He made concessions to ensure these potential gods were safe; his information led to deaths, and he was aware of it. “I won’t become a cold-blooded killer.”

  Brit clucked. “Because the thought is revolting?”

  “It’s certainly distasteful.” He was a god of life. Taking it was counterintuitive to his very existence.

  Brit sat up. “And you wonder why Kirby doesn’t want you around.”

  Min and Kirby didn’t see eye to eye on matters that were critically important to her. Though he saw a little more of her perspective every day, he doubted she saw his. “The act is distasteful, not necessarily the people who have to commit it.”

  “Fine line. Especially when you insist you’re avoiding that very thing, to preserve who you are.”

  Min saw her point. His phone chimed with a new text, and Starkad’s name flashed on the display screen in the center of the dashboard. He glanced at Brit in the rear-view mirror. “It’s in my coat pocket.”

  “Of course it is.” She made a series of disgusted grunts, as she fished his phone out. “It says it’s time.”

  “Right.” The brief phrase carried an enormous weight. The message meant Aeval had found her people—those TOM took before the fight with Hel—and it was time to save them.

  There were upsides to the message. Seeing Kirby again. Depositing Brit in Aeval’s realm, rather than locking
her in a room.

  It also meant Brit would see Kirby again. And that today’s mini-shootout would be the least stressful mission they conducted this week.

  KIRBY ALWAYS ENJOYED visiting Aeval, and despite the reason for it now, today was no different.

  The queen of the fae lived in an honest-to-gods castle. Stone walls, turrets, and a sweeping landscape. Inside was a complete contradiction. There was still a throne room and a ball room. A dining hall. Vast bedrooms with four-poster beds.

  That was in one wing.

  Another was a section for recreation, which included fighting mats, weights, and weapons. And Kirby, Starkad, and Gwydion were waiting in the business wing, in a conference room, complete with leather chairs, a glass table, and a projector at the front.

  The entire castle was high fantasy meets the modern world, and Kirby loved it. What she didn’t love was the nagging reminder that Min and Brit would be joining them. She wasn’t ready to see them again.

  Additional skilled backup was needed, though. This mission was an extraction, and Brit excelled in those. As long as playing along here suited her purposes, she’d be a solid ally.

  Brit wasn’t here yet, and Kirby wanted to think about anything else. She wasn’t the only one on edge. Starkad stood next to her, back to the wall and arms crossed. Gwydion leaned against the conference table, facing both of them, with the door behind him.

  If Kirby wanted a distraction, he’d happily offer one. She adopted a mischievous smile. “So, mister grumpy-god earlier? Sexy­-as-fuck accent? How come you never talk like that anymore?”

  “Not a clue what you’re talking about, lass.” Gwydion slipped into an Irish brogue. He grasped her fingers and tugged her closer, then tilted his head next to hers. “Do you want me to whisper tales of leprechauns and banshees and sprites in your ear?” His breath was hot and tantalizing against her skin.

  Starkad’s sigh made her roll her eyes, but she didn’t stop smiling.

  “Are you really going to let her do that?” Starkad asked, his tone light.