Taer paused briefly before walking into the War Hammer. Alistyre gave her a leery stare as she passed the bar on her way to Aubrey’s booth, hidden out of sight at the back. He was supposed to be introducing her to someone today, but he wouldn’t tell her who it was, and the uncertainty was setting her nerves on edge and tying her stomach in knots.
She reached the final barrier between her and Aubrey, the half wall sheltering the elf from view of the general public. Taer let out a breath, shaking out her arms and loosening the tightness in her neck.
Rounding the corner, Taer let her gaze first settle on Aubrey. Her body heated in its usual way as his eyes perused her. He gave her a grin loaded with sexual tension. For the sake of her sanity, she forced her focus somewhere else, concentrating on the unfamiliar male sitting beside the light elf.
She knew he was a Mare with just a look, but she couldn’t have been sure he wasn’t a Walker. His dark brown hair was brushing the tops of his shoulders, his ice-blue eyes wary as he watched her. His skin was pale, and his mouth was a little too full for a male.
“Sit down, Winter Fox,” Aubrey murmured, amusement in his voice. Taer shot him a nasty look before pulling out a chair from a nearby table and sitting down.
“Who’s he?” she asked tersely.
“Winter Fox, this is my associate, Zarail.”
Zarail nodded stiffly, his tight expression unchanging. Taer kept her face blank as she stared at him. She didn’t know him. She didn’t know what to think of him, and until she did, she would treat him as if he was her enemy.
“Why is he here?”
“Zarail has some information about Darrion that you might find … enlightening,” Aubrey said, less snide now, and more serious.
“What does he know?” Taer directed her question at Aubrey.
“I know a lot,” Zarail replied, his voice much gentler than she had expected it to be, drawing Taer’s eyes in his direction. “Darrion and I were trained together by Njord.”
“Who?”
“Njord was the god who recruited us after our families were killed by Odin and his Valkyries.”
Taer heard the undercurrent of rage in his words. “So this god—Njord—trained you?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Why would he do that?”
“He was building an army against Odin, using our rage and thirst for revenge to his advantage.” Zarail’s gaze hardened. Odin had hunted their kind since time began—Taer knew that. What she hadn’t known was that someone had tried to form an army against the All-Father.
“Darrion was part of this army?” she asked.
The Mare shook his head. Taer was confused. “But you said—”
“He wasn’t part of the army. He was the leader of it. Njord made Darrion the master of us, and it was a job Darrion took very seriously.”
Taer sank further back into her chair, her mind churning. “What’s your beef with him?” she asked. She saw Aubrey’s pale brows shoot up. “Why now?” she said.
“I’m sorry?”
“Why am I only hearing about you now? What’s the catch?”
Zarail and Aubrey shared a look.
“Winter Fox, you have to understand something about Darrion,” Aubrey said.
Taer seethed, her mood going from pissed off to downright irate. “Oh yeah? What else is there to understand about him? I’ve seen firsthand how sadistic he can be.” Pulling down the neck of her shirt and hoodie, she revealed the thick, ugly scar across the base of her throat. “I’ve felt it. So don’t fucking try to lecture me about the intricacies of Darrion’s cruelty.”
Her words came out as a savage snarl, but it looked as if neither of them had heard a word she’d said. Their eyes were on her neck. She adjusted the collar of her hoodie to cover it up and they looked away.
“Darrion did that?” Aubrey asked fiercely. He looked ready to kill Darrion with his bare hands, and the thought … warmed Taer.
Taer sat forward in her seat, elbows on the table. She needed answers, and she needed them yesterday. “You said you know Darrion? Then tell me this—what’s his weakness? How can I get to him?”
Zarail looked at Aubrey uncertainly. “You can help each other here,” Aubrey told him, his voice still stained with anger.
When Zarail hesitated, Taer turned to Aubrey. “What’s this all about? And who the hell is he?” She glared in Zarail’s direction. “I want to know what’s going on here!” When neither of them answered her, she stood up abruptly, her chair rocking precariously, nearly toppling over.
“Winter Fox—” Aubrey began.
“Fuck you,” she snapped, turning around, but stopping when Aubrey spoke once more.
“Taer, wait.”
Against her better judgement, she bit back another curse and turned towards the men. She arched one brow, inviting Aubrey to say more.
“Sit back down and I’ll tell you everything.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she stayed where she was, waiting for him to give her something, but it was Zarail—not Aubrey—who spoke.
“Over a thousand years ago, we tried to take Darrion down.”
“Who’s we?” she asked, being careful to keep her anger in check.
“Me, along with another trainee called Arthon. We had a plan to destroy both Darrion and Njord on the day of the first ever Final Test.”
“How?”
“We contacted Odin. We told him how to find the guild hall where Njord trained us.”
“In exchange for what?” Taer’s voice betrayed her impatience.
“In exchange for a guarantee that Darrion would die. The plan was for the All-Father and his Valkyries to raid the hall and kill everyone except for Arthon and me, but—” He hesitated. “We were both involved in the Final Test, and we knew that one—maybe both of us—could die.”
The Mare sighed in relief, as if saying the words had lifted their weight. “We were the final two in the arena. I killed Arthon just before Odin arrived. I was able to fade out of there, so I had no idea whether or not Darrion had been killed. It wasn’t until late in the eleventh century that I realized he’d survived the raid and he was … thriving.
“For centuries, I’ve watched Darrion amass power and Walkers. He rules with an iron fist, giving his Mares no choice but to give their lives to him. I’ve watched him kill his longest-serving Walkers when their century-long contracts were finished. I’ve watched him threaten the lives of his Walkers’ families in order to keep them in line.”
There had to be more to it than just that, Taer thought. What did Zarail have to gain from Darrion being taken out of the picture completely? She didn’t know Zarail, but she could see he wasn’t some goddamn good Samaritan.
She let her silence do the talking, and when Zarail stared back blankly at her, she turned to Aubrey. “Can I speak to you privately, please?” she asked, her jaw tight. When his top lip curled up in a sly grin, she resisted the urge to slap it off his face. Getting to her feet, she stalked further into the back of the bar, feeling Aubrey following behind her.
“What is it, Winter Fox?” he asked.
“I’m not buying it, Aubrey. What’s the fucking catch? Why are you introducing me to this guy now? Why not the first time I asked you about Darrion?”
Aubrey sighed, and she noticed just how weary he looked. “Zarail is a business associate of mine.” Taer rolled her eyes at his words, but he pressed on. “I’m looking to expand our business and Zarail is going to head it up.”
“I still don’t know how I come into your grand plans here.”
Aubrey’s eyes darkened. “Aside from being thoroughly enjoyable company, you’re also the key to removing Darrion from the equation. You want him dead, and so does Zarail, although I believe you’ll be more successful in your attempts.”
Taer snorted. “I don’t see how. Zarail has over a thousand years of fighting experience on me.”
Aubrey shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. Yes, he trained to become a Walker, but once he faded from that arena, he swore he’d never do it again. He swore he’d never kill someone because he’d been ordered to.
“Plus, you and Darrion have a stronger connection than Zarail and Darrion do. He’s not even sure that Darrion remembers him, really.”
“How am I supposed to help? What do you want me to do?” she said, exasperated.
“All you have to do is kill him—remove Darrion completely. You’ll have your revenge and the way will be paved for us to expand our business ventures.”
“And how in hell am I supposed to do that? I have no idea how to hurt Darrion. As far as I know, he was born to some goddamn heartless monster and he has ice running through his veins.”
She saw a spark of something in Aubrey’s expression—guilt, almost—and was instantly wary. She spun around to walk off, but his strong fingers wrapped around her wrist. She pulled free immediately.
“Winter Fox,” he pleaded, “just hear us out.”
She bared her teeth at him. “Or what, huh? You’re not going to help me by telling me what I need to know?”
When Aubrey only blinked back at her, she knew the answer. “You’ve got to be fucking with me, Aubrey.”
“Taer?” Aubrey whispered, his hand coming up to caress her cheek. It was her name on his lips that stopped her from pushing him away. Her eyes fluttered shut, her heart so desperately wanting him to say it again. “Please. We can both benefit each other here,” he said. “We all want Darrion dead. You have the skills; we have the information you need to make it happen. Don’t let your pride get in the way of that.”
*
Taer’s rage was still simmering below the surface when she returned home to the club more than an hour later. She’d returned to the table, sat down and listened to everything Zarail had to say. She’d learned what she’d set out to learn—now all she had to do was get into Darrion’s head and destroy the bastard.
Korvain and Bryn were sitting quietly on the couch together when she arrived back at the apartment. With Bryn’s head resting on Korvain’s chest, their legs were twined together as they watched the early-morning news bulletin. There was another story about a Boston woman who had been killed. The police still had no idea who was committing the crimes, but they were warning citizens to be aware.
She slipped away into her bedroom unnoticed, shutting the door firmly behind her. Peering over to Eir’s side of the bedroom, Taer was relieved to see the Valkyrie wasn’t there.
Things with Mason must have gone well. Taer found herself smiling at the situation. She’d hoped Eir would find some happiness again after Kristy’s death, and if that was with Mason, then she was truly happy for her.
Placing her katana beside her, Taer stretched out on her bed, her hands behind her head. She was still mulling over the information Zarail had given her, trying to figure out how she was going to go about attacking Darrion’s shields. Taer rested one hand on the handle of her sword and closed her eyes.
She allowed herself to remember the Darrion she had known, conjuring up the terrifying images of her brother’s former master. She forced herself to remember the last time she’d seen him—the time when he had killed Adrian and left her to die, surrounded by his blood.
She could feel the sharp bite of his blade at her throat; smell the metallic tang of the blood. As the memories bombarded her, her breathing grew quicker and harder until she was panting, her stomach in tight knots and sweat pouring down her back. It was only when she moaned, when the sound seemed to echo as if she was standing in some vast space rather than her bedroom, that she realized she had infiltrated Darrion’s dark and diseased mind.
Opening her eyes, Taer cautiously looked around her. She was standing in a room, the roughly hewn wooden floorboards creaking under her weight. The room was filled with a warm light, although she couldn’t see where the source was coming from. With her hand tightening on her blade, she looked over her shoulder.
She saw a stone fireplace, the cold ashes from the last fire still lying in the hearth. Something caught her eye there in the ashes—something small. Crouching down, she rested her sword across her lap and fingered what appeared to be a bronze brooch. She scratched at its surface, revealing what looked to be Odin’s valknut—three interlocking triangles.
It seemed to have been thrown into the fire and forgotten about, but it was well known that dishonoring Odin in such a way was to bring wrath down on whoever had committed such a crime. Taer threw the bronze back into the ashes and looked around the area surrounding the fireplace. To the right, there was a small hatch in the wall, the door opened just a slice. Without bothering to look inside, she stood up and turned around, her sword hanging down at her side.
On the wall to her left, she saw a door—the wood held together with large iron rivets. On the wall to her right, she saw a mirror image of the first door, and in front of her was a third door, but this last one looked as if it had been sealed up tight.
She stepped towards the first door, the one on her left, her fingers reaching out to touch its iron handle. Turning the ring, she pushed the door open slightly, waiting to see if someone or something would come to investigate.
When nothing happened, she gently toed the door open further, holding her sword before her as the light from the joining room spilled out onto her feet. Looking through, Taer surveyed a room identical to the one she was standing in.
It was empty, except for a fireplace, a sealed-up door on the adjacent wall and another door directly opposite her at the other end of the room. Taer walked quietly through the room, keeping her senses alert. She glanced at the small hatch and the fireplace as she passed, noticing the same dead ashes in the hearth as before, but also noticing the charred piece of jewelry she had thrown back in.
Taking a closer look, she could see the imprint of her thumb from where she’d wiped it clean.
“Impossible,” she breathed, looking back toward the door she’d come through. She stood up and strode back to the doorway, looking inside. The room she was staring at was identical to the one she was standing in.
What. A. Mindfuck.
Marching over to the sealed door, she pressed her nails into the edges, trying to find a way to open it. But no matter what she tried, no matter what she did, the door simply wouldn’t open. Then she went back and tried the sealed door in the first room. It was the same there—the door was fastened shut. Approaching the door she hadn’t opened on the other side of the room, Taer twisted the handle and pushed the door open. It mirrored the other two rooms, right down to the smudge of her fingerprint on the valknut in the ashes.
Taer realized then that this was Darrion’s mental shield, and she needed to break through it, just like she had broken through Korvain’s. She thought back to her conversation with Zarail, trying to remember everything he’d told her.
“Darrion liked to think he was better than all of us, but he went through the same shit we had all been through. His family had been slaughtered by Odin and his Valkyries, just the same as ours had. But for some reason, his rage was a lot more potent than ours.
“I never found out exactly what had happened to them, but it had to be more than just simple slaughter. Anyway, he ruled us with Njord by his side. He was ruthless in everything. He was the best fighter there was. He didn’t seem to fear death and that gave him an edge over everyone else.”
“Was there anything you saw that could be used to exploit him?” Taer had asked.
Zarail seemed to think about her question for a minute before saying, “There was one thing that happened that seemed to ruffle his feathers.”
“And what was that?” she’d asked, practically smelling the blood in the water.
“There was one Mare who walked away once he’d seen what Njord wanted us to do. You see, Njord wasn’t just training us to just go after Odin. He wanted us to go after all the Aesir—male, female, old or young—it didn’t matter to him. Njord wanted them all dead.
“This Mare and Darrion had been close. I’d heard they’d come from the same village before Odin had swept through it like a plague. One day, this guy decided he couldn’t kill anyone anymore, not without a reason. Darrion tried to reason with him while we were all eating together one evening. The guy wouldn’t listen and left the table, telling Darrion he was mad if he thought fighting the Aesir was going to bring his family back.
“Just before he made it to the door, Darrion was up from his seat, stalking towards him. I watched him pull a blade from the holster on his thigh and wrap one arm around the guy’s chest from behind. He spun them both around to face the room. Darrion’s eyes were wild. He bared his fangs and stabbed the blade into the other guy’s throat repeatedly while eyeballing every single one of us.
“He was sending a message, and we got the damn thing loud and fucking clear. Once the guy was on the ground, Darrion snarled three words which have stayed with me since then.”
“What were they?” Taer had asked, her mouth dry and the blood pounding furiously in her ears.
“Nobody leaves me.”
Taer focused on producing a fantasy meant to break Darrion’s mind. He wasn’t afraid of losing his guild. He was afraid of losing his Mares’ loyalty. She conjured up an image of Korvain walking away from him, then another of Adrian not dying, but instead standing up to Darrion’s threats and cruelty.
She made him believe that Adrian had beaten him and walked away with her, safe, vowing to never serve him again. Taer watched as the door in front of her began to shudder and shake—not noticeably at first, but soon the vibrations became more violent. It shook so much that cracks began to form in the wood surrounding it, the timber splintering into jagged shards.
The sound was deafening, but Taer stood strong, her blade ready. She waited until the door slid open slightly, and with the handle of her sword gripped tightly in her palm, she walked towards it, wondering what she’d find on the other side.
With her sword raised, she reached out and pushed the door open the rest of the way. Stepping over the threshold, she found herself in darkness. She blinked when a flicker of light ignited in front of her, revealing another aged door directly ahead. It was identical to the door she had just come through, and she hoped once she stepped through it, she would be in Darrion’s mind—in his dreams.
Loosening her grip on her sword, Taer pressed her free hand against the wood, feeling its coarse grain beneath her fingertips. The door opened silently, and Taer took a moment to collect her thoughts before stepping through it.
She walked through a shroud of darkness, the blackness seeming to thin out the further she walked into the recesses of Darrion’s mind. The gentle lilt of the old language suddenly filled her ears, and the silhouettes of two small figures crouched down close to the floor appeared gradually through the haze.
Breaking free of the last of the black fog, Taer found herself in a familiar room with a fireplace and three doors. In front of her were a little boy and an even younger looking girl. Their backs were to her, their focus on something on the ground in front of them.
Taer approached them cautiously, gazing over the boy’s shoulder. They were playing with a set of carved wooden animals and dolls, giving voices to the figurines and laughing at what they were saying to each other.
“Darrion? Get you and your sister washed up for dinner,” a woman said behind Taer. Spinning around, she saw a woman with raven-dark hair dipping a wooden spoon into a cauldron hanging over the fire burning in the hearth.
“Five minutes more, Mamma,” the little girl pleaded, looking up from the game.
“Now, Ara. Father will be back in from the fields any moment and he’ll be hungry. Now, go with Darrion and clean your hands,” their mother replied, not even looking away from her task.
The girl looked at her brother. “Dar, can we still play later?”
Darrion gave his sister a lopsided smile. “Sure, Ara, let’s just do as Mother wants now and we can play after dinner.”
Taer backed up a step as the two rose to their feet. She got her first look at a young Darrion and the sister who never had the opportunity to grow up. His blond hair was very pale, and his eyes incredibly blue. If she didn’t know any better, she would have had him pegged as a light elf for sure. His sister, on the other hand, had the typical coloration of a dark elf—dark hair, dark eyes—just like their mother.
They walked straight past her and through the door to Taer’s right. A few moments passed before they reappeared again, the front of their tunics wet from where they’d wiped their hands dry.
As they walked past her, Taer stuck her hand out to touch Ara’s hair, her fingers drifting straight through the little girl. From the corner of her eye, Taer noticed the wall shimmer a little, Darrion’s dream seeming to shiver at her intrusion.
Taer didn’t know what that could possibly mean, but before she had time to think about it any further, the large front door opened and a tall, strong man stepped inside. Taer could see the family resemblance.
“Pappa!” Ara squealed, throwing herself at her father’s legs and holding on tight. Darrion followed his sister, wrapping his arms around his father’s waist while their mother came over to her husband to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. The husband smiled lovingly at his wife and scooped Ara up into his huge arms. He wiped his sweaty forehead on her, the little girl squealing and trying to wriggle free of his grip. The male laughed, the sound booming around the small room. The love he had for his family was more than apparent.
Taer’s eye caught that same shimmer as before, except this time it seemed to be a little stronger, blurring the scene in front of her. As she watched, young Darrion and his family faded in front of her eyes.
“How did you get in here?” The dark, dangerous voice filled her ears, fear skittering down her spine, chilling her skin and turning the blood in her veins to ice. Her fingers squeezed the grip on her sword as she turned around to face her brother’s killer.