Valkyrie Reborn Page 8

  The incidents discussed in her hearing played through her head in vivid splashes. Memories of the way Mark tormented her in private—the cruel words, the hidden marks... She remembered falling for Brit. Her doubt. Her fear. Her exhilaration when Brit made the first move.

  Was Kirby to blame for Mark’s cruelty? She’d made him look bad her first day in school. But... was she supposed to roll over and take it? She didn’t do that. No one here did that.

  And with Brit, she never...

  Had Kirby been wrong to help her? That didn’t make sense.

  None of it mattered. Kirby’s reputation wouldn’t recover from this. The charges were the kind of stain that would never vanish. She’d wasted her training. She wasn’t a sniper anymore. She wasn’t anything.

  Kirby had knowledge to share. But they didn’t want her doing that. If her crime was abusing her position, they’d never let her teach again.

  Brit’s words cut the deepest. The disdain. The fake despair. The coldness in her eyes whenever she looked at Kirby.

  The hearing went round and round in her mind, the accusations growing louder and her own will to argue falling farther away with each circuit. The memories clawed and mutated as she slipped into a pit. The only thing waiting for her that far down was Mark. Molesting her. Tormenting her. Threatening her.

  And Brit, telling the world that Kirby destroyed her life.

  The loop sped up and slowed down and nauseated her, but it never stopped. She didn’t realize the entire day had passed, until she looked at her clock. Almost twelve hours since the knock on her door. Since her world was ripped away from her. Since the only woman she loved and the only thing she cared about were ripped away from her.

  She should take a shower. See about... getting on with life? If she asked one of her guards to bring her dinner, would he? After the way she’d treated Campus Security, she might wish he hadn’t. Now she wasn’t even worthy of licking their boots.

  The bright white of the bathroom lights was harsh on her eyes. It gleamed in the mirror, but the last thing she wanted to see was her own face. The light glinted off a razor lying near the sink. She’d shaved pretty much everything before Brit came over yesterday, and meant to throw away the old blade when she was done.

  Brightness danced off the flat surface and the sharp edge, captivating her. Such a simple little thing, capable of doing so much. Made to be discarded when it was no longer useful.

  Just like Kirby.

  The thought clenched like a fist around her lungs until she struggled to breath. She gripped the edge of the counter, staring at the way the corner bit into her palms. She pressed in more and more of her weight. Nothing happened. Nothing satisfying, anyway. The dull ache in her elbows was an irritation at most.

  She picked up the razor and turned it this way and that, casting spots of white on the walls and ceiling. She pressed the edge to her fingertip. A stark drop of red welled up, and the sting raced through her nerves. It wasn’t a lot of pain, but it dragged her away from her spiraling thoughts. That was nice.

  The instant she recognized the mental frustration was gone, it rushed back. She needed it to stay away. Had to find a way to keep herself out of her own mind.

  She dragged the blade along the fleshy pad of her palm, in the crease left by the countertop, and gasped at the pain. It was a bad spot to injure, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to be using her hands for anything intensive for a few months. Or ever again.

  Mark and Brit took that from her.

  Or Kirby brought this on herself. All this time, she thought she was being strong. Turned out she was weaker than anyone. Not seeing the signs of what was going on around her. Thinking Brit loved her.

  A drop of blood fell to the floor with a silent splash. She needed to do this in the shower, to make cleanup easier when she was done.

  She stepped into the small tile enclosure, still clothed. If the cut on her hand wasn’t enough to keep her from thinking, she needed more. A deeper, more intense pain.

  She dragged the blade down the inside of her wrist. It took all of her restraint to keep from crying out, but at least she’d learned that lesson early in life. Cry in private. Bleed in silence. Never let them see any weakness. That was her mistake—she let Mark and Brit see that her strength was a front.

  This was better, though. The dark red streaming down her skin was pretty. Thick. Fluid.

  The room around her titled and spun, and she sank to the ground. She needed to wash away the mess and clean up.

  In a minute. Once the haze cleared from her head.

  Or never again.

  Never waking up sounded even better.

  Chapter Ten

  6 Years Ago - Starkad

  As one of her mentors, Starkad participated in Kirby’s review. He wasn’t surprised that no one else spoke on her behalf. He’d been at odds with the other gods and berserkers for centuries—long before TOM existed—and didn’t give a shit what they thought. She hadn’t done the things she was accused of. The one thing she was guilty of was never learning to hide her affection for Brit.

  His heart cracked on Kirby’s behalf when Brit made her accusations. He felt and shared her rage when Mark spoke and Brit agreed with him.

  And he wanted to put a fist through someone when Kirby was stripped of her rank and team-leader status, placed on probation, and assigned to an office job. She was forbidden from field assignments, teaching, or even using the practice rooms when anyone else was in them. She wasn’t allowed to interact in private with cadets. The only one-on-one she could have was with instructors.

  And in a few months, they’d re-evaluate her behavior.

  By the time they finished explaining her sentence, she might as well have been made of marble. She didn’t meet anyone’s gaze. She stared straight ahead and stalked from the room.

  Starkad let her go. Regardless of how he felt about her past incarnations, he’d kept his distance here. She was a student and nothing more. No one here knew there was a reason for him to reach out and offer comfort or advice.

  He went back to his own room and tried to lose himself in his evening routine. Ill ease sat heavy in his heart. The more he worked to distract himself, the stronger the bad feeling got.

  Something was wrong with Kirby. More than a dozen lifetimes, and he’d known each time, right before she died. It felt like having his soul sucked from his bones.

  This wasn’t as potent, but it was bad.

  He headed to her room, master key in hand. He hated that staff had this means of entering student rooms, but tonight he was grateful.

  Campus security stood guard at her place. How did he forget that? Hel must be awfully confident in how badly beaten down Kirby was, to only post one person.

  “Take a walk,” Starkad said.

  “Sir?”

  “Fifteen minutes. Go get a cup of coffee. You’ve got a long night ahead of you.”

  The guard hesitated. When Starkad raise an eyebrow, the guard said, “Yes, sir,” and walked away.

  If the rest of this venture went even half as easily, Starkad would consider swearing loyalty to Odin again.

  Kirby didn’t answer when he knocked. It could be because she was upset. He hammered on the door with the side of his fist, trying to express urgency without drawing other attention.

  Still no answer, and the clawing in his veins was becoming unbearable. He unlocked her door and stepped inside.

  Her living room and bedroom were empty. She was nowhere to be found.

  The bathroom door sat ajar, light spilling around the cracks.

  He nudged the door open wider.

  Kirby was slumped against the shower wall, blood caked heavy on her wrists and soaking her jeans.

  Fuck. “Kirby.” He crossed the room in two steps and grabbed a towel from the rack. “Please be all right.” He didn’t care who heard his prayer—gods, demons, mischief incarnate—as long as she survived.

  He applied pressure to the wounds with one hand, while h
e felt for a pulse with the other. Her breathing was shallow and her heartbeat faint, but she was alive.

  The towel wasn’t going to cut it. The only silver lining he saw in this heavy black cloud was that everyone had full first-aid kits in their cabinets. He’d worry about sterilization later. Right now, he needed to seal the wounds and get her out of this fucking place. He wrapped her wrists tightly with gauze, scooped her into his arms, and carried her from the room.

  There was no one in the hallways. Another small miracle to be grateful for. She felt so light. It was true, he was strong, but a part of his head insisted this was because she’d lost so much blood.

  Starkad brought her to his car and laid her in the back seat. He covered and secured her as best he could, and drove from the grounds. Someone with actual medical training needed to examine her. He’d call Gwydion, except the god wasn’t local. Also, Gwydion would find a way to kill Starkad over something like this, if Kirby didn’t survive.

  No. There was no such if. Kirby would make it out of this. There were no other options. He wouldn’t lose her. As he drove, he called a friend and asked Dr. Dan Nichols to meet him at his destination. He gave the briefest details. She’d slit her wrists. She’d lost a lot of blood. Any work they did on her had to be at Starkad’s place.

  Rather, it was Min’s. The god owned property around the world, and used a lot of it as safe houses for the organization that was trying to stop TOM. Min had a small house here just in case. Starkad had prayed they’d never have to use it. Lot of good that had done him.

  “I can’t do blood transfusions outside the hospital,” Dan said.

  “If it comes to that, we’ll figure it out.” Starkad would move mountains to keep Kirby alive. Using a couple of TOM connections to get a compatible blood type was nothing. It didn’t matter how many bridges he burned tonight; he’d save Kirby. He’d protect her.

  How did he let things go this far?

  The doctor arrived just a few minutes after Starkad carried Kirby to a room.

  Few words were exchanged as Dan went to work. Starkad lingered a few feet away the entire time, concern and prayer rolling through him.

  Finally, Dan stood and stepped back. “She’ll live. She doesn’t need blood, but she does need rest and sugar. And”—he looked between her and Starkad—“there are a lot of things I’ll do for you, but she looks a little young...”

  “She’s an adult, and it’s not like that. She’s a student who needs help.”

  Dan knew Starkad taught, and that the details were questionable beyond that. Starkad was grateful he didn’t push for more information. Dr. Nichols pulled a blister pack from his bag and handed it over. “Sedatives. Don’t leave her alone. Get her a psych eval. Do you need me to bring you anything?”

  “I’ll have something delivered. How soon can I move her?” They couldn’t stay in town for long. TOM would be looking for her, and there were only so many places he could hide, locally.

  “She needs to rest as much as possible.”

  “It may not be safe to keep her here.”

  Dan sighed. “Give her a day to sleep. Make sure wherever she is, she’s comfortable. This is as much for her mental health as anything.”

  “Will do.” Starkad had to walk that line between recovery and hiding.

  The doctor left, and came back a few minutes later with a few sodas and candy bars from the vending machine. “Call me if you need anything.”

  “Thank you.” Starkad slipped him some money and sent him on his way. He knelt on the floor next to the bed and brushed Kirby’s hair from her forehead. She was so pale, she almost vanished into the pillowcase. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I knew you’d face worse than a broken ankle, but if I’d had any idea this was a potential outcome...” What? Would he have done things differently?

  There was no way to change the past. A lesson he’d lived too many times. The only option now was to make sure she survived to appreciate the future. He sat next to her all night. Sometimes she’d stir and almost focus on him. A couple of times she asked for water, and he obliged.

  Mostly, she slept.

  Her eyelids fluttered, and he was alert in an instant.

  “I’m cold,” Kirby said.

  Starkad grabbed the comforter from the other bed and draped it over her. “This should help.” He expected her to fall asleep again, like she’d been doing.

  “You saved me, didn’t you? Why?” She watched him with sad eyes.

  Because he loved her. Because he’d never been able to save her before. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

  Her harsh laugh startled him. “We don’t do what’s right. We do what we’re told. And I didn’t want to be saved. What made you think you deserved to make that choice for me?’

  “You made your decision, I made mine.” He’d expected curiosity, possibly even concern or mistrust, about why he’d singled her out above everyone else. Anger over saving her life was something he didn’t know how to deal with.

  She sat and pulled all the blankets around her. “Not a good enough reason.”

  “It’s the only one I’ve got. When you feel up for it, we need to leave. TOM will find us.”

  “They can have me. They took everything else already. They can crucify me, for all I care. TOM stole my fucking life. I don’t deserve to take the pathetic strands that are left and spend the next few months cowering, until they hunt me down.”

  He didn’t know how to deal with the despair and resignation in her voice. “The feeling will pass. Until then, you shouldn’t be making any decisions.”

  “Really? Really?” Bitterness filled her question. “The only reason to leave would be to have the freedom to finally make my own decisions. I finally did, too. I chose to leave this world. I wanted it. I acted on it. And you took that from me.”

  “Kirby.”

  “Leave me the fuck alone,” she screamed.

  He nodded and walked out of the room. He wasn’t surprised when the door slammed behind him.

  Starkad would give her time, but that didn’t mean he’d drop his guard. He’d spent centuries waiting. He could sit in the living room, ears strained, to make sure she didn’t try anything like what she had last night.

  The candy bars and soda were by her bed. He hoped she ate. He ordered takeout. When it arrived, he knocked and left the food in front of her door.

  A few minutes later, the door cracked, and the food vanished inside.

  And he waited some more. It was dark again when she emerged. She had her arms wrapped around herself, and misery was painted on her face.

  “Thank you for saving me.” Her voice was soft.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner.”

  “I don’t understand why you did it.”

  “Because you deserved—deserve—better.” He had to leave the answer at that. Going into detail tonight would as likely make things worse as help.

  Kirby hugged herself tight and lingered at the edge of the room. This wasn’t the little girl they inducted into TOM. This woman wore the same face as his Ruby, as she stood in front of him, looking like she’d never find her way again.

  A fist squeezed around his chest. If they were still student and teacher, every bit of this would cross a line. But they weren’t, and he wasn’t going to fuck her, just comfort a soul that needed a direction.

  “Come here,” he said.

  Somehow she made trudging across carpet look graceful. When she was close, he pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her.

  Kirby leaned into his chest. She didn’t cry or shake. She just sat there, breathing even. Had she fallen asleep again?

  “How did you know to find me?” she asked, startling him.

  There were so many things he had to wait to tell her, and some he didn’t know if he ever could. But this one, he could be honest about. “I had a feeling, so I went to check on you.”

  “And we need to leave?”

  “Unless you want to go back. I’d rathe
r you didn’t, but it's your choice.”

  “I’m nothing without that place. And Brit—” She choked on a sob that racked her whole body. “I’m not anything on the outside.”

  “You’re so very much the opposite.” It would take time for him to prove it to her, but he would, given the chance.

  She pulled away to look him in the eye. “Will they really come after us?”

  “No one walks away from TOM.”

  “What happens when they find us?”

  “I’ll make sure they never do.” Starkad had hidden from the gods before. He could do it again without breaking a sweat. Especially to keep Kirby safe.

  She extracted herself from his lap. “All right. Let’s go.”

  He said a quick prayer to any god who might hear him that she’d be all right. Physically, she’d recover. If he’d broken her mentally, by keeping her in that place for so many years, he’d never forgive himself.

  Chapter Eleven

  Now -Kirby

  Kirby sat on the edge of her bed, fists clenched, as she stared at the carpet. Brit was here. Same small city. Living her life. Doing her duty to her gods. Killing. Not caring.

  Did Brit look back with pride on what she’d done to Kirby, or had she forgotten the betrayal? Which would be worse?

  Starkad’s brushing Kirby off hurt the most. Not his turning down her suggestion of sex—that was expected. But pretending Brit being here was the same as any other TOM? And there was that flash in his eyes when she said Brit’s name. He knew something, and he wasn’t talking.

  She should go anyway. She could find Brit. Sure, she’d promised to wait, but she’d broken promises and rules before.

  And always regretted it. Not always. There was one of his rules she wouldn’t hesitate to break again. She was only sorry he hadn’t taken her up on it.

  Kirby’s past was littered with plenty of mistakes she needed to learn from. She should ignore her instinct and stay put. She didn’t actually plan on charging expensive drinks to the room, but she could play the overpriced pay-per-fifteen-minutes videogame system hooked up to the TV.