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The fifteen seconds it took Kirby to pack her gear felt like an eternity. She wanted to blame Min for this, as she raced to the street. Not because it was actually his fault, but because he was in charge of relocating potentials, and that made him a convenient target for any potential-gone-wrong situation.
She was on speaking terms with him, at a professional level. He hadn’t pushed the We promised to love each other for eternity angle since she sent him away. When he’d told Starkad this girl expected to be relocated, Kirby asked how.
Min’s response? I don’t know. I didn’t push for more information. He didn’t pry into potentials’ lives, as long as they were out of danger.
Look how well that worked out.
Kirby sprinted past Starkad, Davyn’s eyes growing wide when he saw her. She pulled up short when the stranger stepped between her and Azzie.
“She can make it stop, Finn,” Gwydion said.
Great. Everyone knew someone.
Kirby knelt in front of Azzie and extended her hand, but she didn’t make contact. She hated bartering with relief from pain, but she was dealing with a potential god killer, and her men’s safety was a higher priority than Azzie’s. “Promise me you’ll hear us out when I take the pain away,” she said.
Azzie gave a slight nod.
Kirby brushed her fingers over Azzie’s forehead and visualized drawing out the pain.
Azzie gasped and dropped her head. She shot out her hand and grabbed Kirby’s wrist, digging her fingers into the tendon.
So much for hearing each other out.
“You pulled a knife on one of my men.” The words were supposed to sound businesslike, but Kirby couldn’t hide her possessiveness.
“He’s a god. Gods are trying to kill me.” Azzie met her gaze.
This was a lot more work than picking an assassin off a potential and moving on. None of the others Kirby saved in the past few months were this much effort. It was refreshing to finally run into a potential who was taking some initiative.
“Min sent us,” Kirby said.
“Nice guy, but a lot of people have tried to kill me since he found me.”
Kirby hid a wince. They should take this conversation some place less public. Gwydion could keep them masked for a while, but she didn’t like being so exposed. “Yeah... He feels real bad about that. But regret doesn’t solve problems.”
Azzie raised her brows. She was probably Kirby’s physical age. In some ways, she looked it. But her expressions, the way she held herself, and the hint of an easy smile that lurked behind her expression, made her appear a lot younger.
Then again, Kirby had a dozen other lives behind her, adding to her age. “You promised to listen to me.”
“Can you teach me that take-away-the-pain trick?” Azzie let go of her wrist.
Kirby grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet. Kirby would have asked about the inflicting-the-dozen-lifetimes-of-pain trick. “Probably not. It’s kind of instinct. I touch you, I think about making the hurting stop, and it happens.”
“Neat.” Azzie looked at Gwydion. “Is the coffee here any good?”
The men had all stood down, though the one who’d turned on Gwydion didn’t look happy about the truce.
Gwydion shrugged. “I’d rather have a stiff drink at this point.”
“It’s nine in the morning,” Starkad said.
Gwydion stared blankly at him. “And your point is...?”
“Probably the only time you’ll ever hear me say this—I’m with him.” The thin man with the pale hair—Finn—nodded at Gwydion. He spoke with a heavy Irish accent.
“You’re alive. And you look like you,” Davyn said.
Kirby turned to face the berserker. He was at least twelve centimeters taller than Starkad, with a bear-like build. His berserker form was that of a bear. He’d been an ally in her first life. But a lot could change, especially with the centuries that had passed since.
“Same to you. Are we...? Are you...?” She didn’t know the best way to ask, Do you serve a god who wants one of us dead? He’d always been fiercely loyal. “Who are you fighting for these days?”
Davyn nodded at Azzie. “Don’t hurt her again, and you and I won’t have a problem.”
He worshiped a twenty-five-year-old redhead? He must fit in great in this world.
“We need something other than alcohol or caffeine.” Kirby didn’t drink, and the last thing this group needed was to be more on edge.
Azzie gasped. “We should have donuts.”
Hard to argue with that. Sugar didn’t solve problems any more than regret did, but it tasted better, and it softened the blow of a lot of things.
Kirby gestured toward a donut place a few blocks away. “I’m in.”
Finn stayed by Azzie’s side as they walked, and insisted he wanted Gwydion in front of them.
That must be an interesting story. On the surface Gwydion was the least threatening of their group. Sure, he could summon the trees to fight on his behalf, but someone would have to know him, to know that.
Davyn fell back, watching. Kirby and Starkad joined him. His gaze was fixed on Azzie. The only time he took his eyes off her was to do a quick survey of their surroundings. “Thought searching for her would have driven you mad a long time ago,” he said.
“It almost did,” Starkad said.
Kirby had heard so many stories of his past. They’d shared a lot over the last six months. “I didn’t think there were any other berserkers left.” They were tough, but unless they were like Starkad—cursed by a god or something similar—they weren’t immortal.
“There are a handful of us. It’s...” Davyn sighed. “Long story. And not nearly as heartwarming as lovers who spent centuries searching for each other. The tail end of my immortality is a blood oath to her mother.” He nodded at Azzie. “A promise to watch over her.”
That could explain why he was so protective. A blood oath was an unbreakable bond. Going against one meant violent pain and torture, ending with death. But there was more in Davyn’s gaze than just a guardian watching over a ward.
“I’m glad you’re still around,” Starkad said.
Davyn smiled. “Same for both of you. Not around us—we’d like to leave you soon. But it’s good to see the two of you together.”
“Agreed. To all of the above.” Kirby tangled her fingers with Starkad’s and leaned against his arm. A group like this, full of people various gods wanted dead, was a bad thing to keep together for any length of time. Kirby would stay with Azzie to establish if she was better off on her own or under Urd’s protection. Though, she seemed to be doing just fine right now.
At the donut place, Kirby ordered them a dozen assorted, and they pushed a couple tables together in the back corner of the dining room. They made an interesting sight. Davyn and Starkad next to each other, the beasts inside almost peeking through—wolf dining with bear. Azzie sat between Davyn and Finn, looking like she had two scary guardian angels. Or demons.
Kirby suspected Azzie wasn’t as helpless as the picture painted. Finn was casting dagger-like glares at Gwydion, so Kirby sat between the two men.
“No one’s noticed us since we approached you outside.” Finn turned back to Gwydion. “I assume that’s your doing. Glad you can do something useful.”
What a charming asshole. “I take it the two of you know each other?” She gave Gwydion her attention. She preferred his company over most on any given day, and today that was multiplied. In past lives, he had a similar accent to the new guy, but he could adopt most English-speaking accents without issue these days.
“Fionn McCool is a hunter,” Gwydion said.
Kirby swallowed a snort at the name. She understood it didn’t have anything to do with how it sounded in a modern tongue, but she couldn’t help her amusement.
“It’s Finn.” He switched his hard glare to her. “And what are you supposed to be?”
“A Valkyrie,” she said.
“Sure.” Disbelief dripped from Finn’s reply. “There are no more living Valkyrie. They all died.”
Kirby had no idea if this guy was familiar with the prophecies of Urd—those that said Azzie would become a god, or those that talked about Kirby—but reincarnation was rare and impressive regardless, and she wanted to see him flinch. “So did I. Many times.”
“Oh. You’re her.” Finn’s antipathy vanished.
Azzie broke a piece off a donut. “He’s a big believer in the prophecies.” She popped the cake in her mouth.
“And you’re obviously familiar with them.” Now that the introductions were out of the way, Kirby could get down to why she was really here. Perfect segue.
“My mother was...” Azzie sighed. “I don’t know what you’d call her. She had visions. She raised me on them. They filled in a lot of blanks between the quintets Urd wrote about me.”
That explained why she hadn’t been surprised to see Min. It also showed how much of a believer she truly was. Kirby didn’t know if the prophecies were of the going-to-happen-regardless variety or were the self-fulfilling sort. Most of them were difficult to interpret, and only some had come true.
Azzie crossed one arm over her body and dropped her hand to her hip. A sheathed axe appeared, handle against her palm. “I’ve been training to defend myself most of my life.”
“An axe?” They hadn’t taught her to fight with an effective weapon? Kirby looked at Davyn. “Was that your idea?”
“Not everyone can incapacitate people with their minds.” Finn sneered.
“No. But most people can hit center mass at close range with a good handgun.” Kirby knew how to use an axe. She’d learned in her first life, and honed her hand-to-hand combat skills in this one. But if she didn’t have to take the risk, she wasn’t going to.
“You sound like—”
Finn settled a hand on Azzie’s arm, silencing her. “How beautifully impersonal,” he said to Kirby.
“Death is always personal. Anyone who’s taken a life either knows that or has taken too many.” Kirby didn’t like this guy. And if they believed Azzie was supposed to take on Loki, why hadn’t they given her more practical training?
“We need to move you some place safer.” Gwydion was ignoring the donuts and pretending to ignore Finn. The irritation bristling under his skin was almost tangible. At least to her.
His statement was a giveaway too. They didn’t need to relocate Azzie. If she was safer on her own, they could leave her be. They were here to warn and assess.
“Because someone sold her out?” Davyn asked.
Finn nodded. “Loki knew where she was, less than a day after FU relocated her. Hel never lost track of her.”
Kirby wasn’t interested in this becoming a dick-measuring contest. Gwydion and Starkad did that once, at Gwydion’s insistence. Starkad won, but Gwydion had the girth over length. The atmosphere here wasn’t charged with the same kind of humor.
“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.