19. Davyn
Nineteen
Davyn
The last week or so had been the perfect reset. Spending most of my time as an almost-bear, wandering various mountain ranges in Montana, turned out to be just what I needed.
When I got back, I’d have to thank Azzie for making me walk away. I may be relaxed enough to put up with another few years of urban monotony.
Part of me wished I hadn’t taken the trip alone. It didn’t make sense to have Azzie around when I was like that—my bear didn’t appreciate human company—but somehow I’d gotten used to her sarcasm and teasing and all around presence.
The way she looked with damp waves of red hair framing her face after she got out of the shower. Her scent after a workout. That she didn’t hold back when she was frustrated. Or happy. Or anything.
I pointed my truck toward an Evanston exit that promised gas, and navigated down a street that was only busy because it was the closest thing to a city for dozens of miles. Being here meant I was almost home.
Home . Odd thought. Odder sensation.
The potent scents of gasoline, people, and seagulls lingered in the air as I headed inside to pre-pay for the gas.
For the most part, I blocked out the chatter in places like this. I wasn’t concerned about where people were heading or how many in each car had to take a piss.
What I did want was cold water—one of those modern amenities I took advantage of. The jerky wasn’t bad either, especially in a place like this where someone local made it.
I grabbed enough of both for the last hour or so of my drive, and took my place in line by the register.
An unfamiliar tension coiled through me at the thought of being so close to my destination, but not there yet. A giddy sort of anxiousness at seeing Az?—
“The FBI made a statement this morning.”
Something about the man’s tone caught my attention as he talked to the cashier.
She looked interested. “I’ve been working since five. Haven’t had a chance to check in. What did they say?”
“They think it might’ve been domestic.” As he talked, he ran his credit card.
She put his chips and soda in a bag they didn’t quite fit in. “Like from here? Blowing crap up?”
Blowing what up?
“That’s what they’re saying.” He shrugged and pocketed his wallet.
“Who?” I knew better than to insert myself in conversations, but this one grabbed me and filled me with a new concern I couldn’t identify yet. “What happened?”
They both looked at me like I was a fucking idiot.
“The attack in Salt Lake City,” the cashier said. “The bombing and shooting and stuff.”
The what ? “The what?”
The man looked me over. “You been huntin’ or something?”
“Yeah. Unplugged for more than a week.” I should be grateful that was an easily accepted response in a place like this, but I didn’t give a fuck what they thought about my extracurricular activities. I needed to know, “what happened?”
“Ah, man. You’ve gotta see this.” The customer grabbed his purchases and made way for me, as he jabbed at his phone. “There was a huge thing downtown there. Like gunshots downtown. An explosion. They called in the FBI. ATF. Homeland Security.”
Azzie . I handed the cashier a hundred. “For the food, and gas on Eight. Keep the change.” I followed the man to a path out of the flow of foot traffic. “Where downtown?”
“Watch this.” He tilted his phone toward me.
As I watched, a flash burst from a second-story window, and a large cloud of smoke and raining brick followed. Any peace I’d found on my trip vanished. That was directly in the middle of her route to work. “When was this?”
“A couple days ago. They still don’t have answers. People are pissed.”
The video kept playing. It was a compilation from several people of the explosion and the chaos that followed. I couldn’t help but search the crowds for her face, but I didn’t see her anywhere.
I grabbed his phone.
“Hey.” He reached for it, and I stopped him with a glare.
My brain stalled. I didn’t know her number…or anyone’s number. We lived in the same apartment, and I hated phones. Why hadn’t I memorized her number?
Fuck .
I shoved the man’s phone at him again. “I’ve gotta go.” I sprinted to my car. Each second it took to fill the tank drew another growl from me, and the instant it was done, I yanked the nozzle free, spilling gasoline everywhere.
Seconds later, I was peeling out of the parking lot, and hitting the freeway. It had been a long time since I was so desperate to get somewhere this quickly, but the next eighty or ninety miles were Hel.
When I reached town, entire streets were blocked off, and traffic moved at a crawl. The last mile or two to the apartment took an eternity. The scents of panic and ash lingered in the air.
So did something else. Something—someone—I hadn’t smelled in a long time. Another Berserker. A wolf.
Not Ulf. Not one of his pack.
Starkad .
How…?
In a way he was the Berserker. Not necessarily for who he was, but centuries ago, a Valkyrie defied Odin to keep Starkad from dying in battle. Kirby had been cursed for her insolence. Killed by Odin’s hand and sentenced to an eternity of death and rebirth.
But she’d left Starkad immortal at a much younger age than he should’ve been, and the rumor was, he was worse than most when it came to his bloodlust and need for the fight. All because every time he found her in one of her lives, he lost her again.
Why was he in town? Why did his scent linger in the air over several blocks as if he was still here?
I didn’t care that over the centuries he’d refused to side with one god or another. I was concerned that he’d never had a loyalty outside of Kirby, and that meant he could be hunting Azzie as easily as he could anyone else.
Except explosions weren’t our thing. It didn’t matter how much control a Berserker did or didn’t have—we all preferred our fights to be hands-on.
If he got in my way trying to find her, to keep her safe, I’d worry about him. Otherwise, I didn’t fucking care what Starkad was up to.
When I reached the apartment I shared with Azzie, my bear was ready to claw its way out of my skin. Her scent lingered here, but it lay under others as if she hadn’t been here for days.
The front door was ajar, and I burst through, ready for a fight.
Chaos met me, bleeding with an unfamiliar person’s smell. Couch cushions were torn apart and bookshelves smashed. There were holes punched in the walls, and the whiteboard Azzie made us keep on the fridge for notes was blank and broken.
Where was she? The longer the question went unanswered, the louder I wanted to roar.
I found my phone half under the fridge, glass cracked by what looked like someone’s heel. I pressed the power button and muttered a string of curses mixed with prayers. The screen flashed for a moment, then went blank again.
Where the fuck were the chargers? I tried not to make things worse as I sifted through the debris looking for power. Azzie’s bag was gone. Her computer. The photo of her mom, and the book she kept it tucked inside were no longer by her bed. Her prophecy journal wasn’t here.
Wherever she’d gone, she had a chance to pack first. That should be reassuring, but it wasn’t.
I headed down to the convenience store across the street for a charger, and ripped the package open before I finished paying. “You have someplace I can plug this in?”
The man behind the counter stared at me, wide-eyed, and hints of fear wafted from him. He pointed at a wall near the ATM by the front window.
“Thanks.” I turned away to plug in my phone. Please let it still work.
The five minutes it took for there to be enough power for the device to turn on felt like a lifetime, and when the screen flickered to life, the image fractured by cracked glass, I bit back a whoop .
It took a few jabs to get the touch screen to work with the combination of breaks and my large fingers, but I managed to dial into my voicemail.
“Pick up, please?” Azzie’s voice was distant in the recording, and then she hung up.
Fuck .
I needed to call her back, but the screen wouldn’t respond. I tried to pull up her number. Unreadable.
I’d tear the city apart to find her, but someone—Starkad? Another person?—had already taken care of the destruction.
I needed to be rational. Who would know where she’d gone? Her work? I’d go there next.
A few minutes later I was standing in front of the office where Azzie’s employer was located. The door was locked and there was a printed sign taped to it.
This location is currently closed. Our phone or email are the best way to reach us. We are still booking appointments. We’re sorry for any inconvenience.
Rage and frustration poured into my fists, but bashing down the door wouldn’t do me any good. In an environment like the one in the city, it might even do me a lot of bad.
Fuck .
Could I follow the scent that was in our apartment? Given that Azzie left on her own, whoever was in there could have been a thief. They also could be the reason she left, and hunting them would feel good regardless.
I returned to the apartment to reinforce what I was looking for, then headed out on foot. As I left the building where we lived, gas, engine oil, and antifreeze masked the smell I was following. Someone had gotten in a car and driven away.
That made sense.
I couldn’t do the same because I needed to focus on picking the faint thread out from all the others. Homing in on that point gave my mind a handhold to pull me along, and shoved all other thoughts aside.
I was downtown again before I knew it, and now that I had targeted a single person, it was easy to see that their stench was everywhere around Azzie’s office. Layer after layer, as though they’d been around here for days.
Hunting her ?
If so, I’d make them suffer.
Starkad’s essence frequently followed the same path, and mingled with other scents I shouldn’t smell in this city—trees native to Wales, and ancient sand.
Were there other gods here? Witches? Elves or other immortals? None of those were present before I left.
Kirby?
I couldn’t say. I hadn’t seen her in centuries, since one of her previous lives, and this could just be something similar.
Except that Valkyries always smelled like death, victory, and salvation. It was a blend distinct to their magic.
None of those were my target.
Tracking in a city was as different from hunting in the wild as one might assume. If my prey didn’t know they were being followed, they left a meandering trail.
In both the bakery and bar that my searching led me to, TVs played twenty-four hour news in the background, images of the city around me flashing on the screens as well. Images flashed up of a blond woman and a dark-haired man. They were wanted for questioning.
Was that who I was searching for as well? If so, they were safer if law enforcement found them first.
I tracked the scent to a downtown hotel whose entrance was blocked off by police and yellow Keep Out tape. I wanted to get in there, but I’d wait until there were fewer people around. Bear Berserkers weren’t made for stealth.
The smell of the person from our apartment led me to an alley not far away, and it was strongest here. Most recent. So was the stench of gunpowder and berserker blood. Starkad .
And Valkyrie. This time it was unmistakable.
None of that mattered, aside from the fact they were with the person who had been in our apartment. One of them may have an idea where Azzie was.
They’d all left though. The trail changed here, because they’d gotten into cars and driven away.
I didn’t have any other leads to follow. Despite the fact that the sun had set, and my leads were growing cold, I had no choice but to follow. Without any other hints, what else was I supposed to do?