30. Azzie
Thirty
Azzie
Enid gave me the rest of the information about the siren, and Zeke, Finn, Davyn, and I, headed home after the party. The gift from Loki soured the mood.
Not because he sent it, but the reminder that no matter how safe I thought I was, he was always lurking around a corner, and we never knew which one. The distinct pointer that he was watching me so closely he knew what Davyn had gotten me for my birthday.
I’d wanted to destroy the gift, but Zeke refused. I wasn’t surprised that Finn backed him up, but I didn’t expect Davyn to take his side too. Zeke’s reasoning was, “it’s a magical weapon, and I can’t feel what kind. You’re safer storing it than doing anything else with it.”
We locked it in his safe, and Davyn and I went home, all of us to sleep on separate beds. If one could call the tossing and turning and mind running rampant that haunted my night.
I was grateful now to be in the sunshine, letting it chase away the shadows of not-quite-realized nightmares, walking down the familiar street by Enid’s with Davyn and Finn. I was surprised Davyn agreed to come since we were heading back to the library, but he said this was research he wanted to be a part of.
Zeke was sleeping off an all-night bender of blacksmithing inspiration.
If I was going into another training session, I needed it to be with as much information as possible. It was hard to call what had happened with Ulf a mistake, especially since the experience gave me and Davyn as well as a new level of caution, but I would’ve liked more data going in. I hadn’t looked much into sirens in the past, but the library seemed like as good a place to start as any.
I didn’t think Enid was holding back when it came to what she knew about the siren, but I couldn’t share the feeling that we needed more .
Finn had blinked us in near Enid’s, but she was with a different client, so we’d gone on our way.
I’d been racking my brain for the best way to express my concerns since I found out about the nature of the siren’s test. As we strolled the familiar street, the answer came to me. “You should be aware, Azzie, that tests like this blur the line between a person’s psyche and reality.”
She glanced at me with raised eyebrows. “Isn’t that the point?”
“This is something you’ve never experienced before.” At least, I believed that was the case based on the stories she’d told me about her past training. “A siren’s magic is meant to replace truth with a new version. You may go in knowing that it’s all an illusion, but even the strongest will can forget that once the trial begins. It’s a test that exists to make you question your heart, your world, and yourself.”
“I told you not to do this,” Finn muttered.
Azzie kept her attention on me. “Technically, fighting that golem of Ulf’s did that.”
“This is different.” I needed her to understand. “This isn’t a moment-in-time event. The way I understand it, because what happens in there is based on your fears and desires, the experience stays with you. Those moments—hours or days—of altered reality become as much a part of you as if they were real. You live with them.”
Azzie faltered in her steps, and let out a soft sigh. “That’s the point of a test, isn’t it? To change me?”
“I’ll say what Davyn’s being vague about,” Finn said. “If you discover you’re capable of certain things in that test, the knowledge will sit with you, even if you can’t do it in real life.”
Azzie opened her mouth.
“You think I’m talking about powers and skills.” Finn cut her off. “I’m talking about death and destruction. If you torture someone in there—if you hunt them or seduce them for your own gain or kill them with your bare hands for the joy of it—that stays with you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Azzie’s tone was impossible to read.
However, I’d been traveling with her long enough to guess what she was thinking. None of this was enough to stop her from taking the test—few things could detract her from her drive to fulfill the prophecies—but at least she’d go in with an idea of how she may be different when she came out.
Something tickled my senses as we headed toward the library, and made my footsteps falter.
“What’s wrong?” Finn asked.
Was I that obvious in my concern? I looked at Davyn. “Do you smell something?”
He scowled. “Always, when we’re here.”
“This is different. This is—“ My gaze landed on a man sitting outside at the coffee shop a few blocks down. When I tried to look at him directly, my gaze slid off.
I knew that kind of magic, and it was frequently overwritten by wanting to see what was on the other side of it.
“Keep walking, but slow it down,” I muttered. “And keep talking.”
We did. Davyn’s nose twitched, but he didn’t give any other indication of searching the area.
Finn scowled.
Standard for him.
If I gave them my attention, but only turned half of my gaze toward the man at the coffee shop, I could make out details. “He was in Salt Lake after the explosion.” I’d talked to him. He was kind at the time. Made me look after my own wounds. Sent me home.
But his being here, in our path, couldn’t be a coincidence.
“Fuck,” Davyn muttered. “He’s not the only one.”
Details later. Action now. “We’re on an intersecting path.”
“We need to turn around.” Finn’s voice was instantly tight.
“No.” I wanted answers.
Finn pursed his lips.
“You keep walking,” Davyn said. “I’m behind you, watching.”
I nodded, never faltering in my step as Davyn fell away. Finn stayed by my side.
“You’re not leaving?” I was too on alert for playful teasing. I needed answers.
“I’m not letting you talk to him alone, but I am falling back.”
How sweet. I wasn’t as comfortable with the idea of Finn having my back as I was with Davyn, but right now it was better than the unknown.
I closed the last block between me and the curious man, and as I drew closer, he looked up from his phone, and gave me a warm smile.
That feeling was the same familiar warmth and safety I’d felt from him in Salt Lake. I wouldn’t be able to push aside my response if I didn’t expect it.
A glint caught my attention from a window to my right. Second floor. It was a quick flash. I glanced in that direction, and didn’t see anything, but when I looked away, the flash was back.
Casting another look, I danced my view along the entire building front. There it was. A window cracked open maybe two inches where the rest of the windows on the facing were shut.
“Hi.” He took a step toward me. “This may?—”
Thank you, Zeke .
I had a dagger in my hand in a heartbeat, and was backing him up into a wall as Davyn and Finn seemed to bleed from the shadows.
“Who are you?” I’d learned a lot from Zeke about reality versus television when it came to things like snipers, and I wasn’t willing to ignore the instinct that said there was one watching us now.
“We’re not alone.” I kept my voice low and direct at Davyn.
Davyn shook his head. “No, we’re not.” The man I was holding captive spoke.
“Tell whomever you’re with to drop the weapon, I want to meet them,” I said to the man.
He was the most calm of all of us, and that made me nervous. “The young lady would like you to put down the gun and join us on the street.” He spoke to the empty air.
Or the earpiece hidden under pale curls.
He frowned, and turned his attention to a space behind me. I wouldn’t look, but I was willing to bet it was the same open window I’d seen.
“Don’t do that,” he said.
I was about to argue, but he kept talking. “I hate cleaning brains out of clothes.” He looked at me. “My companion would like you to know they have the tactical advantage, and she’ll give me with a shirt covered with your brains if you don’t back the fuck up.” His voice was tight now.
The threat should terrify me. I wasn’t in the mood for this being hunted shit. Besides, if the person behind me was going to shoot, they wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble to stop me. They wouldn’t be letting me do what I was doing now.
Please let me be right . Even if I was wrong, I’d die in defiance instead of cowering.
I don’t die here .
Right. The prophecy.
I flipped off the sniper—or where I assumed they were.
“Watch yourself,” Davyn growled and spun. A blur charged him, and forced my attention between him and the man in front of me.
A spike of pain lanced my hand, and then my head. The agony spilled through my whole body. My dagger clattered to the ground as a scream tore from my throat. I was sicker than I’d ever been, and my arm had been cut off, and I was on fire, and I was being crushed. A spear lanced my chest.
None of those things were real, as I forced myself to look—I was still intact—but the pain and the impressions of death were so vivid, it was as if I lived them.
The pain surged stronger, and all my thoughts vanished.
I needed it to stop. Please make it stop. I didn’t want to die again. And again. And over and over. Lifetimes. An eternity of pain. So much agony.
“Davyn.”
“Holy shit. Finn?”
Those voices were part of the pain, but in front of me. I couldn’t?—
“She can make it stop.”
No. Nothing could stop this. It would happen again and again.
There was a shape in front of me. A person. Blond. Female. I tried to keep her in my sight, because it was better than what I felt.
“Can you hear me?” she asked.
I nodded. I thought I did.
Another scream ripped from me.
“Promise me you’ll hear us out when I take the pain away?”
I couldn’t?—
My head was being ripped clean again.
She didn’t make me promise anything I couldn’t take back.
I gave another nod, making sure this one shone through.
She brushed her fingers over my forehead. Such a light touch I shouldn’t feel it through all of this.
The torture evaporated, and my head dropped out of relief. I was exhausted, but could focus again. I shot out my hand and grabbed her wrist as she tried to pull away. I dug my fingers into the tendon.
“You pulled a knife on one of my men.” The way she said my men oozed possession.
Could I blame her for defending the people she was with? No. I’d have done the same. But, “He’s a god.” How did I know that about the strawberry blond man next to Finn? I just did. “Gods are trying to kill me.” I looked the blond woman in the eye.
“Davyn knows us.” She sounded like she believed that should change my mind.
Davyn grunted, but didn’t offer a response one way or the other.
I’d almost forgotten about him, it had been so long. “Davyn knows a lot of people, and at least one is hunting me.”
She twitched.
“They were allies once upon a time,” Davyn said.
“And we haven’t been otherwise since,” the woman said.
Davyn made a low growl. “You haven’t been anything since, except dead as far as I knew.”
Was she the Valkyrie Davyn had mentioned in the past? The one Odin cursed for her defiance? That alone deserved respect. From Davyn’s stories, Kirby was a Valkyrie like those I imagined as a girl—strong, defiant, and driven to protect.
Fortunately, I wasn’t a little girl anymore and I wouldn’t swoon like one. We were in too public a place. Too many people could see us. Interfere with us. Even with Mister God doing whatever he did to make himself unremarkable to passersby.
“You promised to hear me out,” she said.
I had. “I’m listening.” A glance around told me everyone else had disengaged, and Davyn was standing next to a thin, scary looking man.
Had he been in Salt Lake too? A homeless man?
This was fucked up, and I didn’t trust it at all.
This woman seemed to want to negotiate with me. To talk . “Can you teach me that take-away-the-pain trick?” I’d love to have something like that in my arsenal. Perhaps I should ask about what she did before that as well—inflicting me with the pain of what felt like a dozen deaths—but I already struggled with the idea of killing someone. Torturing them with the same pain but letting them live didn’t seem much better.
“Probably not. I don’t know how I do either thing except that I can inflict people with the pain of every death I’ve ever died, then when I touch you and think about making the hurting stop, and it stops.” She offered me a hand as she stood, and I stared at it for a moment before accepting. Her grip was firm. Unwavering. There was no strain as she tugged me to my feet.
The pain of every death she’d died? Fucking terrifying. Who were these people? A look at the men’s faces, both the strangers and Davyn and Finn, made me think they were all uncomfortable with the back and forth. They were tensed for a fight; each and every one of them.
“I’m Kirby.” The blond woman gave me a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “This is Gwydion.” Her pronunciation sounded like Gideon with a w .
“If we’re playing nice, I’d love a stiff drink.” The pale god huffed a laugh that landed with more strain than humor.
Were we playing nice? I’d spent a lifetime hanging out with people who’d caused me pain, since I trained in many places with a variety of teachers, but I typically agreed to it first. The woman in front of me was mingling with and souring my childhood awe when it came to Valkyries.
Davyn and Finn knew these people though. Davyn stood down.
“It’s nine in the morning.” That was the wiry, terrifying man who had kept Davyn in check, despite being shorter and thinner. The thin man had a Berserker mark peeking above his shirt collar—a wolf. I wasn’t about to face another Ulf, was I?
“And this is Starkad.” Kirby nodded at him.
Gwydion stared at him blankly. “Your point is…?”
“Don’t tell anyone I agreed with Gwydion, but I like his idea.” Finn finally spoke.
The exchange softened the cloud of tension around us. Gwydion’s shoulders loosened, and a tingle raced over me, like a blanket of comfort. Davyn’s fists were still clenched, but his gaze drifted away from his attacker for the first time, landing on Kirby.
“You’re alive.” Davyn didn’t sound surprised. “And you look like you.” That was delivered with shock.
Kirby’s smile slid closer to genuine. “Same to you. Are we…? Are you…?” She worked her jaw. “Who do you fight for these days?”
She didn’t know if she could trust him. I felt the same about her. Worse, a tiny little voice in the back of my mind insisted that she was a friend—a sister. Was someone influencing our feelings toward the trio? Was that why Davyn and Finn yielded?
Davyn jerked his head in my direction. “As long as you’re not here to threaten her—again—you and I won’t have a problem.”
A warmth spread through me at the implication. He was still on alert—good. For the moment we could pretend to be friends.
Correction—the way Gwydion and Finn glared at each other, they were not friends—but if Davyn was comfortable with the scary wolf-man and the gun-wielding blond lady who could disable me with her mind, I could give them some leeway.
“I don’t think any of us need alcohol or caffeine.” Kirby had a good point.
My stomach growled. Sugar made people gregarious, didn’t it? I had to admit I was curious about what these people had to say, and there was a great bakery just a few blocks away. “We should have donuts.”
“I see why you like her.” Kirby grinned at Davyn. “Lead the way.”
Finn stayed by me as we walked, and insisted Gwydion walk in front of us. Davyn fell back, with Kirby and Starkad. I didn’t want them behind me, but as long as Davyn was there I knew I was safe.
At the donut place, Kirby ordered us a dozen assorted, plus drinks, and we pushed a couple tables together in the back corner of the dining room. We made an interesting sight. Davyn and Starkad next to each other, with me at one end of the tables between Davyn and Finn.
Kirby took the spot at the opposite end of the table, across from me and between Finn and Gwydion, breaking the dagger-like stares the pair of gods were casting at each other.
“You know each other?” I wasn’t asking Finn so much as making an observation.
Finn huffed a response that I might not have recognized as unfortunately if I hadn’t spent the last few months around him. “I’m glad to see you’re back, Valkyrie,” he said.
“I thought all the Valkyries were dead.” I kept any lingering traces of awe from my voice.
Kirby sighed. “So did I. Many times.”
I broke a piece off a donut, acting casual despite the war raging in my head. “A prophecy?” I popped the cake in my mouth. When I met Zeke, there was a connection. With Davyn, I knew I could trust him.
These people? Something about them set my senses on edge. Not necessarily in a danger kind of way, but my brain screamed that there was more to Kirby than I knew.
“More than one, though we know some better than others.” Gwydion glared at Finn.
I needed that story, but not here. “I get that.”
“And you’re obviously familiar with them.” Kirby didn’t hold herself like someone who trusted easily, but she was being kind to me. At least, now that the making-me-feel-like-I-was-dying had passed.
“My mother was…” I didn’t want to get into any of this. “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.”
I reached for my hidden katana, but a hatchet appeared, handle against my palm. What the fuck? Where was my sword, and why was Loki’s gift here instead? Did. Not. Like.
I kept the shock from my face and pretended the ax was exactly what I wanted. Davyn might trust these people, but I wasn’t convinced. “I’ve been training to defend myself most of my life.”
“An ax?” Kirby looked at Davyn. “Was that your idea?”
Anger surged inside but I wasn’t sure if it was because of the derision she directed at Davyn or that she’d assumed he was responsible at all for who I was.
“Not everyone can incapacitate people with their minds.” Finn got there first.
“No. But most people can hit center mass at close range with a good handgun,” Kirby said.
So she really did have a gun pointed at my head earlier. Not reassuring. “You sound like?—”
Finn settled a hand on my arm, silencing me.
Was I about to tell them about Zeke? What was I thinking?
The combination of my sword being gone mixed with these strangers was fucking with my head.
“How beautifully impersonal,” Finn said to Kirby.
She fixed him with a glare. “Death is always personal. Anyone who’s taken a life either knows that or has taken too many.”
At least I could agree with her on that.