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Kirby reappeared in the woods outside of campus, Loki by her side. At least he hadn’t left her to deal with the intruders alone.
“Were they Nobles?” she asked.
He nodded. “Drop the mask. I want to look you in the eye for this. You’re not nearly as good a liar as Brit is.”
Charming. Kirby didn’t have a reason to hide anymore. That game was up. She focused on sending Brit’s ka on its way in a far less jarring manner than Min’s safeword would. Her joints felt as if they were expanding and relaxing at the same time, like undoing a too-tight pair of jeans. Speaking of, her pants were too loose now. The nice thing about the BDU’s, though, was that they were baggy enough that the fit didn’t matter anywhere but the waist.
“Don’t suppose you’ll let me borrow your belt.” Kirby’s voice sounded odd to her own ears. It was the familiar timbre she’d heard across the centuries, but it wasn’t right. She hitched up the waist of her pants as they slipped down her hips.
Loki did a great job of sighing and groaning, exaggerating the inconvenience, as he stripped off his belt and handed it to her. Loose slacks were a tiny thing, but they’d ruin a good game of cat and mouse if they fell off at the wrong time.
Kirby wanted to believe she and Loki were the cats, but they weren’t. Not today.
“Where’s Starkad? I’ll take you to him,” Loki said.
Aeval had given them a lot of freedom to come and go from her home and realm, but bringing in an uninvited god—one most gods didn’t get along with—was rude and possibly dangerous. If Loki was even capable of entering without her permission.
“We have to call him”—it was powerful magic to let phones still work there—"Or you have to let me go back to the faery realm alone, to get him.”
“That explains why I couldn’t find you. You’re staying by my side, and we’re not doing a long, drug out negotiation again.”
A suppressed gunshot sounded and a bullet bit into Kirby’s arm. Pain screamed through her. The forest vanished, and a different part of campus appeared around them. She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms, to ignore the agony spreading from her fresh wound. It took her several seconds of focus, to move past the pain.
Bullets weren’t supposed to hurt her. Especially not this much. “See why we need to work together? Take me to the other side of the world so we can make a plan and I can call Starkad.” Fucking fuck, this hurt. Stars danced in front of her eyes. “Or at least take us into town.”
“I’ve been trying. Something is keeping me here.”
How wonderfully not wonderful. “I’m going back for Starkad. Don’t move. We’ll return for you.”
“Don’t you dare.” Loki grabbed her bad arm.
She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted copper, to keep from screaming, and activated her one-time key home. Nothing happened. Had she wasted her chance by sending Min back? No. Aeval had assured her this wouldn’t be an issue.
“Something wrong?” Loki let go of her.
Everything was wrong. “Lucky you, we’re going to do this by ourselves, just like you wanted.” They had an hour and a half until the others returned, but if she and Loki couldn’t get out by magical means, Gwydion probably couldn’t get in. This was just like what Aeval experienced in the warehouse. “Are you doing this?”
Loki raised his brows. “Yes. I like being hunted by Nobles who want me dead as much as I do them.”
Was he protesting too much? It didn’t matter, if she had no alternative but to work with him until her backup arrived. “Don’t suppose you can get us into the armory.” Every second out in the open, especially with no plans and only one magazine for her pistol, was more dangerous than the last.
“The instant we show up there, others will know.”
Kirby was aware. “Then we’d better move fast.”
If she had any idea at all which soldiers weren’t pro-Hel, which Campus Police would rather live than be sacrifices, she’d go on a recruiting spree. Having lots of guns would have to do.
They made two stops in the armory—one for weapons and one for ammo—and Kirby shoved as much as would fit into a single duffel bag.
Loki teleported them to a new location, this one with a wall of rocks that acted as a natural barrier. At least he had some sense of tactics. “You’re going to carry those with you? You can barely lift your arm. What’s going on with that, by the way?”
Her arm was actually feeling better. The initial shock had faded, and she could move the limb with only minor complaint. “I’m going to carry a reasonable amount and stow the rest here.” The Nobles were already armed, so it didn’t matter if they found the stash. Kirby would prefer they didn’t, but it wasn’t game-breaking.
“I need to think.” She slid to the ground with her back to a large rock, and shoved panic aside. If she and Loki stayed on the defensive, they’d never accomplish anything. Putting the urge to run on hold left room for the rest of reality to sink in. It had only been a couple of weeks since she became Brit, but with that extra set of thoughts gone, there was an empty pit inside.
Brit knew how Ice Queen and Melon-head thought. She’d be able to guess their next steps. The best Kirby could do was figure out the mostly likely approach Starkad would take to get onto campus, if he came in on foot. Useful when the time came, but not nearly as much so if she and Loki didn’t accomplish anything before backup arrived.
An hour and fifteen minutes left, before she told Min to come for her if she hadn’t returned. And she had no doubt Starkad would be here. Enough time to find at least a couple of Nobles. But was it? She was intimately familiar with the training here, but they’d realize that. They wouldn’t follow standard steps. Unless they did.
Stop. She could follow the logic around all day, and the only thing that would do was paralyze her with indecision. It didn’t matter that she’d only ever hunted Nobles in pairs, because that was all they were now. She could only pursue one pair at a time, and that was how they’d be looking for her. She could do this, as long as she picked a starting point.
“Fuck.” Loki’s exclamation jarred her. He hovered a hand over her injured arm. “You’re not healing.”
She craned her neck to view the wound, as she tried to move her arm. The limb didn’t respond. A red stain mixed with black spread out from the hole. She tugged up the cuff of her sleeve, and her arm was dead weight, unmoving and numb. Dark lines ran under her skin, like inky poisoned veins.
“I can still shoot with my left hand.” It wasn’t a solution, but it was the only thought Kirby could process. That was a lot more promising than, What the fuck is wrong with my arm?
Loki grimaced. “Not if this spreads.”
She hovered her hand over the wound and focused on her healing magic. The pleasantly warm salve flowed over her. Sparks flared from the bullet hole, and she swallowed a yelp. What was the point in having super-healing Valkyrie powers if she couldn’t use them?