Dark Devotion: Dark Series 3 (19 page)

When all her hair was gone, she studied her reflection. The scar across her throat was stark and that was just the way she needed it to be. She would wear the injury for the rest of her life. She would be reminded of her folly for the rest of her life too. She was no longer Tove, daughter of Halvdan and the shield maiden Bodil.

She was Gunner.

She was one of Odin’s Valkyries.

Aubrey’s eyes opened slowly, and oddly he wasn’t in any pain. He tried hard to focus on the wall in front of him. His weapon racks weren’t empty like the last time he’d seen them, but full of daggers and swords. If only he could reach one of them, he would be able to fight his way out of this whole fucked up situation. He flexed his hands then bent his elbows, and was surprised to the see the chains were gone.

What’s going on?

He stood up, anticipating his knees would buckle straight away. When his feet hit the sparring mats, his toes flexed into the pliable material and anchored him in place. He looked around expecting to find Loki there with the next instrument of torture in his hand.

But he was alone.

Only his unsteady breathing was keeping him company. His eyes fixed on the ceiling when the boards on the first floor creaked as someone walked across them. His heart rate broke into a gallop, all the moisture draining from his mouth. It only took him a second to arm himself, finding the katana he had used when he’d last sparred with Taer.

There was another loud creak and the door to the basement opened. He prepared himself for the battle with Loki. There was very little chance he could win, but he’d be damned if he didn’t go down without a fight. Lightly trodden steps preceded down the stairs, the wood moaning in protest.

Aubrey rolled his neck, working out the kinks. Modulating his breathing, he willed his heart to slow. Although he wanted to inflict maximum pain on the god, he had to remember what he’d told Taer: remain detached from emotion because emotion can get you killed. And right now, Aubrey was nothing but a ball of hate and anger, all directed at the Trickster.

The sound of footsteps got closer, but he still couldn’t see Loki’s legs or torso as he descended. What the fuck was going on? He stepped forward. The distinctive
thunk
stopped, right on the final tread. He studied the stairs, still seeing nothing.

“I’m losing my goddamn mind,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. He lowered the sword, but his muscles refused to relax. A few tense seconds passed before he tore his gaze from the bottom of the stairs, looking to the back of the room, expecting to see all the tools Loki had been using on him for the past few hours … or was it days? He hardly knew anymore.

His heart suddenly bounced into his throat as his gaze returned to the stairs. He could have sworn he’d heard Taer calling his name.

“Wake up, wake up, sleepy head.”

The voice that called to him was disjointed and cruel. Aubrey’s mouth began to ache. He wiped at his nose when he felt something running down his face. It was blood – his blood. Soon after, the whole left side of his face throbbed in agony. There was a dripping sound, and when he looked down, there was a pool of blood on the ground to the right on his body.

“Ah, there you are,” said that same voice, only this time, it didn’t sound incoherent. He recognized it straight away.

Loki.

Aubrey’s eyes cracked open slowly, a rolling wave of pain crashing against him. He tried to wipe the blood from his face, but the chain still binding him to the chair stopped the motion. His elbows screamed in protest, forcing him to press his lips together tightly. He must have lost consciousness, but at least he wasn’t in any pain there. Unlike here.

The god laughed. “I hope you were dreaming of somewhere far, far away from this place because that is all it will ever be: a dream.” Loki crouched down in front of him, making sure he saw the electrodes in his hand. “It’s all right to scream, you know. In fact, I think I’d rather enjoy it.”

“Why?” Aubrey croaked, his voice hoarse from thirst and suppressed cries.

“You’re still asking the same question.” Loki stood up and stepped away, moving behind Aubrey’s chair. “If I were you, I’d be asking things like, ‘what can I do to make you stop?’ Of course, the answer is nothing.” He stepped back into Aubrey’s line of sight. His gaze was cold and detached. “There is nothing you can do to make me stop what I’m doing. In all this time you have not once screamed, or wept or begged me to stop. I take that as a personal challenge.” Loki smiled and the sight of it made Aubrey’s skin crawl.

Aubrey swallowed, the motion like sandpaper covered in glass shards down his throat. There was a very good chance he would die here in his basement, but at least he would know Taer was all right, that she hadn’t been dragged into the situation. Loki had said he’d wanted Odin, and however Taer played into the plan, Aubrey would make sure Loki would never get her.

The god took a dagger and cut open Aubrey’s bloody shirt, pushing the sides away to reveal his chest. He attached a clamp to each of his nipples, then connected one of them up to a car battery near his feet. When Loki was satisfied with the connection, he looked up at Aubrey.

“Scream if this hurts, won’t you?”

He was on the verge of connecting the negative battery cable when someone burst through the door at the top of the stairs and started to descend. For half a second, Aubrey hoped it was Taer – that she had figured out where he was – but that hope was crushed when a male voice said, “They’re here.”

Loki pulled back, turning his attention to the man standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Where?”

“In the courtyard.”

Loki’s smile was maliciously triumphant. “It sounds as if your little Mare is here with all the cavalry.”

Aubrey would have fought against the chains – as hopeless as it was – if he’d had the energy, but he was physically drained. He’d lost too much blood. His body had endured too much. Regeneration was possible, but without the proper rest and recovery, which he was severely deficient in, there was very little chance he would make a full and complete recovery.

“What do you want me to do?” the other god asked Loki.

“I want you to finally prove your worth,” Loki said. “I want you to redeem yourself.”

The guy nodded and climbed the stairs once more. Loki turned back to Aubrey and smiled, disconnecting the battery cables. “I think I’ve thought of something else that will make you scream even louder.”

Mav had barely been standing in the courtyard for more than a few seconds when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Someone was waiting for them. Rhys appeared beside her a moment later and she glanced in his direction, seeing his body stiffen and his nostrils flare.

“Near the south side of the house,” Rhys said in a low voice, his eyes flashing gold. “Sonofabitch. It’s the same guy who attacked me with his brother.”

He pulled out a dagger from his thigh holster and stalked toward the front of the house. A moment later there was a grunt and Rhys was thrown backwards. His dagger skittered across the cobblestones, coming to rest against the brick wall. He was back on his feet in an instant, a growl bubbling from his throat.

Freki stepped from the shadows then, his brows drawn low and his mouth pressed into a hard line. In his hand, he held a knife, his deadly focus on Rhys. “You’ll bleed for killing my brother.”

“And you’ll bleed for me,” Rhys replied, his eyes darting down to Freki’s weapon. He pumped his hands into fists at his sides. “Just like Loki will bleed for Galen.”

Mav watched on, wondering how Rhys would fair without a weapon of his own, looking for a signal from Rhys that he needed help. The pair started to circle one another, each waiting for the other to make the first move. It was Freki who finally attacked, driving the blade in the direction of Rhys’s stomach. Rhys wrapped his hand around Freki’s wrist to stop him, but Freki simply switched hands and plunged the steel into Rhys’s back twice. Rhys roared in pain and retreated. Blood soaked through his shirt immediately, spreading too quickly.

Mav drew her sword, preparing to end it. She took a step forward, but stopped when Rhys turned his head to look at her. His eyes were yellow and she lowered her arm. His wolf was probably in control right now, and she had no idea what it would do if she approached with another weapon. She touched her tattoo, recalling the sword.

Rhys’s attention went back to Freki. He bared his teeth at the god and advanced once more. Freki thrust his knife toward Rhys, only this time Rhys managed to intercept the strike, pushing it away. Then he planted his other hand on Freki’s face, shoving him back. Freki stumbled, but recovered quickly.

Rhys glanced at Mav once more, their eyes meeting before his gaze darted to the dagger he had lost. Mav nodded in understanding and faded to the other side of the courtyard to scoop up the weapon.  

Clearly growing frustrated, the god charged at Rhys yet again, stabbing wildly. Throwing his arm across Freki’s chest, Rhys fisted his shirt and held him off, maneuvering his body to the opposite side of Freki – away from his weapon hand. There was a scuffle as Freki tried to make the blade sink home and as Rhys avoided the slashes. Rhys motioned to Mav for his dagger then. She threw it to him.

Reaching around Freki’s body, Rhys thrust the blade into the god’s midsection. Mav could smell the blood immediately. Freki howled in pain as Rhys fell to his knees and ran the blade across Freki’s Achilles tendon. Freki dropped like a stone. Rhys grabbed the back of the god’s shirt and dragged him into the middle of the courtyard, throwing his body down hard. Immobile, Rhys loomed over Freki’s supine form. The god remained defiant, but Mav could see his aura had changed from confident to doubtful.

“What are you going to do to him?” she asked.

Rhys’s head wrenched around. Mav stared into his wolf’s eyes for a long minute before he started to stalk toward her; Mav’s pulse raced. Fearful for the first time, she watched and waited to see what Rhys would do next. Was his wolf in complete control, or did Rhys still have a finger on the steering wheel?

When he was only a foot away from her, he raised his hand. Mav was ready to reach for her sword if she needed to, but when his nostrils flared slightly, his expression changed and he lowered his arm down to his side again. With his intense gaze still locked on her, she watched the golden hue in his eyes start to bleed away.

“Are you good?” she asked.

He nodded. “Never felt better, actually. Do you have a dagger?”

She pulled the sister blade to her sword from inside her jacket and handed it to him. He looked it over appreciatively before walking back to Freki. The god had been trying to drag himself away, but Mav knew for a fact that there was too much adrenaline in his system – that he was too hurt – to fade.

Planting his foot on Freki’s chest, Rhys stopped him. Freki’s eyes widened and he looked to Mav.

He begged, “Don’t let him do this.”

“I can’t control his actions.”

Moving with speed, Rhys drove Mav’s dagger through Freki’s left shoulder, pinning him in place. Freki’s scream had not even finished echoing around the yard when Rhys did the same with his dagger, plunging it through the god’s other shoulder.  

Standing over Freki, who was staked out like a frog in a high school science class, Rhys pulled open the pinned god’s shirt. Checking him for more weapons, Rhys pulled a butterfly knife from his ankle. He flipped it open, studying it.

Freki licked his lips. “Please. I was just following orders.”

“And now you’re just collateral damage,” Mav said.

Rhys raised his hand over his head and drove the four and a half inch blade through Freki’s sternum and started hacking his way down to his belly button. Freki screamed for the first few seconds then fell silent. Rhys worked quickly, breaking the ribcage and pulling out all the internal organs, removing them with skilled hands. He laid them beside the body where pools of blood quickly filled the grooves between the stones.

When Rhys stood up, Mav thought she would see his wolf peering out through his eyes, but she didn’t; he was in complete control of himself.

“We need to find Loki,” he said.

She summoned her sword and moved to the front door. She would have faded inside if she thought the element of surprise was on their side, but Loki clearly knew they were there if he’d sent Freki out first. She wrapped her fingers around the round, brass doorknob and twisted it sharply to the right. The locking mechanism broke with a sharp snap and the door swung open. Her fingers flexed around the handle of her sword briefly before she stepped inside. Rhys followed at her back, moving silently. Mav’s eyes skirted around the large reception rooms to the left and right of the entranceway.

She turned her attention to the set of stairs leading up to the second level of the house, listening hard. Touching Rhys on the shoulder, she pointed first to him then at the roof.

“I’ll look around down here,” she informed him in a low voice.

Rhys started up the stairs, his bloody back disappearing around a corner at the top of the landing. Mav walked silently through both reception rooms before exploring the rooms at the back of the house. Her booted feet hit the black and white tiles of the kitchen, where she found flecks of fresh blood on the floor. Turning her attention to the basement door, she reached out and touched the handle. With a sharp exhale, she twisted the brass knob.

The door swung inwards and she stepped away as the overwhelming smell of blood drifted out. Mav waited for her senses to come back online before starting down the stairs. A few steps in and she heard the sound of chains clinking, but she pushed on. The first thing she saw as she stepped onto the concrete floor was someone sitting on a chair in the center of the room; they were surrounded by blood, but she forced herself to take in everything – to
see
everything. At the back of the room was a workbench with tools scattered all over its surface. The opposite wall was bare, but there were some nails and boards in the walls where something had once been stored.

Taking a step forward, she got a better look at the male in the chair. Her lips pressed together into a hard line as she recognized who it was – the light elf who had visited Taer at the club. Walking behind him, she found his arms were bound with chains that were covered in the runes to prevent fading. When her gaze fell on the void where his hand used to be, everything slowly started to make sense.

This was why Taer had been so upset – Loki must have sent her the elf’s hand. But why would Loki use him? What purpose did he serve? She touched her tattoo and her sword disappeared. Taking out her cell phone, she punched out a text and pocketed the device. She watched the elf’s chest carefully, waiting for the rise and fall. He was still alive – for now – and she had to get him out of here.

Searching the workbench, she found a pair of bolt cutters buried under some other tools. Pulling them free, she lined up the blades on the chain. As she brought the handles together to cut through one of the links, her shoulders tightened. Moving just her eyes, she looked around the basement once more.

And realized she wasn’t alone.

Pulling back, she stood up to her full height. Her head jerked around as movement in her periphery caught her attention. She watched as someone emerged from the shadows under the stairs.

Loki
.

Mav’s senses sharpened with the instantaneous adrenaline dump. She hadn’t seen the Trickster since before his imprisonment under the earth. His appearance hadn’t really changed other than being a little thinner than before. But there was one thing that was very different – the crazed look in his eyes.

“If you’re in the house, Freki obviously failed – not that I’m surprised.”

She flexed her hand around the bolt cutters down by her side. He took a step toward the workbench, and Mav moved her body subtly to keep him in her line of sight.

“I was hoping that Taer would be the one to come, but you will do just fine. You’ll serve your purpose just like all the other Valkyries who have come before you.”

It seemed like a lifetime, but it was only five weeks ago that Loki had murdered nearly half of Odin’s Valkyries – Mav’s sisters in arms. The scars were still fresh. The pain was still real. Her fingers cinched tightly around the handle of the bolt cutters. The muscles in her arms contracted without thought as she lifted the weight of the tool and hurled it in Loki’s direction. Loki moved at the same time, his action quickly followed by a sharp and immediate pain through Mav’s left forearm.

She ground her teeth together and looked down to find her wrist impaled by a dagger. Her worst fears were confirmed when she attempted to flex the fingers; she had absolutely no movement in her hand. The tendons had been severed. Loki started to laugh, drawing her attention. He had another dagger in his hand, and he let her see it briefly before launching it in her direction.

Pain shot through her shoulder, traveling into her chest and down to her fingertips. The second blade had penetrated through the muscle and had hit bone. With gritted teeth, she mentally fought back the pain, fought back the fear, and concentrated on fading away. It was a long shot, but she managed to rematerialize in the kitchen; she was simply suffering too heavily from the effects of shock to go any farther. Exhaustion hit her immediately and she slumped against the counter at her back. There was an island bench between her and the door now, and above it was a suspended pot rack filled with copper pots and skillets in varying sizes.

A few tense seconds passed. The wounds to her wrist and shoulder were throbbing in time with her heart. Blood gushed from them both and her vision started to fuzz out at the edges. Then her eyes latched onto the outline that formed in the air on the other side of the island as Loki materialized.

Awkwardly grasping the dagger in her shoulder with her only functioning hand, she removed it. Mav remained silent, breathing heavily through the pain. She felt more blood run down her arm, back and chest, her tank top doing little to soak it up. Steeling herself again, she did the same with the knife in her wrist. She couldn’t help but scream this time as she pulled out the blade. With sweat breaking out on her brow, she summoned her sword. Fighting with it now would take its toll on her though; she was running at fifty percent capacity with the injuries she was carrying.  

Even though it used her flagging strength, Mav faded closer to Loki, simultaneously swinging her sword in the hopes that the blade would hit its target as she rematerialized. The Trickster was obviously anticipating this though and moved closer to the island bench. Maverick lunged forward, her black sword swinging in a deadly arc through the air. Loki snatched a large skillet from the pot rack in an attempt to deflect her attack. She knocked the cookware aside and thrust again.

Loki took down another pot and another and another as Mav knocked them all free from his hands. With all the noise they were making, she expected Rhys to come running in any minute. Gods, she hoped that he would. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep this up.

Loki backed away, increasing the gap between them. In an effort to conserve her energy, she let him. She watched him carefully. Loki started smiling at her, raising his hand and wiggling his fingers at her. Mav frowned; she couldn’t understand what he was trying to show her except for his bloody hands. He brought the digits to his mouth and slid them inside. As she watched, Loki’s face and body began to change.

The entire transformation happened slowly – subtly – but there was no doubt who she was now looking at.  It was as if she was staring into a mirror, except this new version of herself didn’t have a sword tattoo on her neck.

“Gods,” she whispered. Her brain was having a difficult time putting together the information. With gritted teeth, she held her sword in front of her again. The pain was like a high-voltage shock through her veins, leaving her weak and shaking. With a hoarse cry, she ran at Loki once more. With quick, sure movements, he swept up two pots from the ground and stopped her advance. With the blade of her sword sandwiched between the copper-bottomed cookware, the god yanked back.

Mav’s grip tightened around the handle, but she was exhausted. The sword slipped through her fingers, leaving her to watch her weapon fly through the air and land on the other side of the room with a loud
clang
.

Loki moved swiftly, tackling Mav to the ground. His advantage didn’t last. Mav used the last of her strength to flip the god over. But Loki wasn’t giving up easily. With his hands curled into fists, he started striking her in the face. She tried to return the favor, but the pain from her shoulder soon eclipsed her desire to inflict as much damage she could.