Chapter Six

As soon as the words left his mouth she paused, a sudden sense of déjà vu swamping her senses.

“Valhalla.”

She was flying again, soaring over tall stone walls, Great Halls holding thousands of warriors, men and women feasting all night and fighting all day…

She blinked, and the world around her came into sharp focus, the shift in reality landing her back on the couch with an almost audible thud.

Liam was beside her, his hand atop hers. His lips were pressed into a tight line as he studied her face.

“You faded out for a few seconds. I thought you were having a petite mal seizure.” He squeezed her fingers. “You said a word.”

“Valhalla.” The syllables rolled off her tongue with a familiarity she couldn’t place.

“The legendary place where all good little warriors go off to waiting for the End of Days,” he added.

“Yeah.” Kara scrubbed her eyes, trying to force a way through the clouds muddling her thoughts. “Ragnarök. Read about it in the book. Must have come to the forefront when you spoke about Valkyries. Maybe you told me about this before, and that’s why I triggered to the book. That week we spent together…”

“I’ve never told this to anyone.” He shook his head. “I’ve never dared to.”

“Tell me more about the Valkyrie,” she prompted him. “The one you saw.”

He paused before continuing, the pain on his face jabbing her like a thousand knives. “I saw her, hovering over the dead men and women. The children.” He swallowed hard. “She went to one of the villagers, touching his forehead with the tip of her lance as she said something—I couldn’t hear what. His spirit rose into the sky, moved toward the sun.”

He let out a slow, staggered breath. “Then she went to another, and another, sending each skyward. Finally, she flew up, drawing in the air with her weapon…and then she vanished. They were good men and women who died fighting for their families, so I assumed it was to the Good Place. After that, another Valkyrie arrived for the little ones.” The last word came out with a deep sigh. “The babies…”

Kara squeezed his hand, seeing the pain on his face.

“But that wasn’t the end of it. I said some of the soldiers had died in the brawl, lucky kills from the civilians. The first Valkyrie didn’t take him for some reason, leaving him behind. I wondered why, but after the rest had gone, a Valkyrie arrived. But she…” The sentence faded, choked out. “This angel, though, she wasn’t like the other two. She went to him and drew him up, out of his body like the others. But she was angry, sad—I saw it in the way she acted, the way she shook her head. I knew then and there she wasn’t taking him to Valhalla.” Liam looked at Kara. “He was going to Hell. Because he was a ruthless killer, doing what his commander said without hesitation. I knew right then the next Valkyrie I saw was going to be dragging my soul down to Hell. For what I’d done with my life, my skills, up until that moment—there was no chance I’d go anywhere else.”

Her head ached, the flash of memory tearing into her reality. What did Valhalla have to do with Liam? Or flying, or the fighting…

Why couldn’t she remember?

Liam pulled back, ducking his head down to cover a cough. “She rose and did something with her spear, the soldier waiting for his fate. Then they were both gone in a flash, a multicolored burst of light. A second later, everything kicked back into reality—the jeeps rumbled along, kicking up dust, and I sat there, trying to figure out what I’d seen.” He let out a weary sigh. “I don’t know what I saw. Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe I caught some bad field rations.”

“You don’t think it was real?” she said softly.

“I think I saw something. Those people died, no doubt about that. Their bodies lay on the ground right in front of me, their blood soaking into the sand,” he countered. “But a Valkyrie? Avenging angels, swooping down to gather worthy souls to Valhalla and send evildoers to Hell? Not likely. However…” He held up a finger. “Whatever it was—a hallucination, sun stroke, daydream—I have no doubt it was an omen sent to knock me on my ass.” His voice hardened. “Get out and get out now. In my business, you don’t retire at a grand old age. Professional assassins don’t get pensions.”

“You’re not old,” she said. “You’re what, thirty?”

“Close enough.” He rubbed the back of his neck, sliding under the long hair. “Old enough to realize I was running on borrowed time. And that vision brought me back down with a crash—call it my ‘come to Jesus’ moment, whatever you want to, but I’ve done a lot of bad things.”

“People do bad things all the time.” The words felt like cotton in her mouth.

“I did it for money. Not for a belief system, not for a country or a family or a village—for the cold hard cash tucked into my Swiss bank account. That vault’s full of blood and while I can’t wipe it all out, I can do what I can until it’s my time. Then I’ll answer for my sins, as that man did.”

Kara couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I waited until the soldiers were out of sight. Then I turned around and left. Left the mission, the country, the job. All of it.” He looked toward the small window near the front door. “I gave all the money in my accounts to charity and drowned my other identities—all except this one, Jack Hammerson. Then I hit the road.”

“To do what?”

“To try and erase the red from my ledger. I help who I can, when I can.” He shrugged. “If I get paid, I give what I can to charity.” A glance toward the kitchen had him smiling. “Well, except if it’s pie. Can’t really send that through the mail.”

“Why not join up with one of the big agencies? There are charities begging for volunteers. You could go overseas and…” Her voice trailed off as he shook his head.

“It’d be dangerous—I might run into someone who knows me or one of my alibis. It would put everyone around me in danger. Besides, this is my mission and mine alone. I don’t want to coast on someone else’s hard work. I do what I do, and it affects me directly—both good and bad.” He held up his hands, showing off the callouses. “I thought I was tough until I started working manual labor. Stripped at least three layers of skin off before they hardened up.”

“It’s an interesting approach,” she ventured, “this idea of redeeming yourself through good works.”

“It’s all I can do. Sometimes…” Liam hesitated.

She stayed silent, letting him talk.

“Sometimes, late at night, I dream about a dark place. It’s not Hell, not the one from the books. Dark and dusty, like Afghanistan at night. I hear voices—the people I’ve killed.”

Her chest ached.

“I can’t see them but they’re all around, waiting to get their hands on me, tear me to pieces.” He flexed his fingers. “They charge at me and do exactly that, rip my skin with their nails, their teeth. Pull me limb from limb, yank my still-beating heart from my chest and waving it in front of me before taking my eyes out.” He shuddered, closing his eyes for a long moment.

“Then I come back together, unhurt and whole. They rush at me and do it again and again, for eternity.” He shook his head. “You’ve no idea how many people I’ve killed. I do. I don’t want to have some battle angel drag my soul down to Hell when I die because of it.”

Kara swallowed hard, visualizing the horror.

“So when you met me last year…” she started, trying to push the mental image away.

“When I quit, I quit. Didn’t complete that last mission. Even though I gave the money away and it’s been five years, I’m always looking over my shoulder.” He picked up the beer and drained the rest in one gulp. “You don’t remember that night in Vegas, but I was at the hotel bar, having a drink and feeling a little sorry for myself.”

“Then I came up to you.” The memory popped into her mind, as fresh as if it’d been yesterday. “I told you to buy me a drink.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Pretty ballsy demand. I did, and you know where that went.” Liam chewed on his lip. “That’s why I’m so curious as to how you found me here in the Ridge.”

“Because if I could find you…” She left the thought unfinished.

“Yes. And I can’t risk you or anyone in town getting hurt because of what I’ve done in the past.”

Kara touched his forearm. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know.” The wistful grin dug deep into her soul. “I guessed that when you walked out on me last time.”

It was too much.

She moved her hand to his face, cupping his cheek as he leaned in with a sigh and closed his eyes. “That was my mistake. It won’t happen again.”

The rush of desire swamped Kara’s senses as she moved in to kiss him, surrendering to the simmering burn she’d carried since finding him again. She didn’t know who she was, what these memories meant—but she needed this human touch, this emptiness inside her demanding to be filled. The rest… She’d deal with that later.