Page 11 of The Devil's Viking

She was standing there in a white nightgown and men’s boots and not much else. It was obvious now that she was a woman – she didn’t have much in the way of breasts, but the thin gown left exactly nothing to the imagination. Anyone with eyes would see that she was no man, not even a teenaged boy.

Iris had nothing left to lose anymore; she was as trapped and helpless as she’d been when she was drugged into compliance by Gideon and his monster Guardians. That same crazed courage that got her up and out of the compound, and told her to give the camera the finger, and pushed her to hide in the back of a stranger’s van, rose up in her again, making her feel that odd combination of reckless and invincible.

Ignoring the man’s order to wait, she ripped the scarf from her face and then raised her head and stood in front of them, fully exposed for who and what she was. She was at the mercy of these men now, and she knew it. All she could hope was that whatever they did to her, it wasn’t as bad as life had been at the Garden. If she’d survived and escaped that, she’d get through anything.

At least she hoped so. These guys were looking at her like they had her very painful demise fully planned out in their Neanderthal minds. And to be honest, all they had to do was shut the van door, get in the driver’s seat, floor it the hell out of wherever they were, sit on her until her breath ran out, and dump her body somewhere. These guys looked like they knew damn good and well how to dispose of pesky problems – things like living, breathing human beings who were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

So it was nothing but a shock when the wolf-eyed nightmare and the scar-faced giant exchanged quick glances, then nodded at the huge guy with the beard who’d driven her into this situation. Right away, he took off his black leather vest thing with the insignias and badges all over it, then removed the fleece-lined jean jacket underneath, leaving him in just a black t-shirt. She shrank back against the wall as he approached and he paused. Without a word, the other men moved back as one, almost as if they’d been told to do so.

The man extended his tattooed arm, holding the jean jacket. “Here, honey.”

Iris blinked.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, none of us will,” he told her, and she watched the blond one with the ice-blue eyes tuck his gun away. “I was just thinking that you were cold. You must be, right?”

Her teeth were chattering, whether from the freezing air or fear, she didn’t know. Probably both.

“Areyou cold?” he asked.

“Y – yes,” she stuttered. “I am.”

“OK, then.” He put the jacket on the floor, backed up right away. “Put this on.”

Iris watched the men watch her as she carefully stepped forward, paused, stepped forward again. She half-suspected that one of them was going to grab her as soon as she got close to the door, then it occurred to her that if that’s what they wanted to do, they’d just climb in and get it over with; they could subdue her with their baby fingers. The fact that they’d stood back seemed to mean that they were trying to set her at ease, get her to calm down a bit.

Yeah, sure. The calm before the decapitation.

She darted forward, snatched the jacket off the floor, took six steps back before slipping her arms into the sleeves. It was massive on her, but it was warm and smelled of a spicy, citrusy cologne and something else, something strong, smoky, sexy. The scent made her a bit weak in the knees – it had been a long time since she’d inhaled that heady smell of pure, amazingman.

Jesus Christ, get it together girl.

“OK,” said the wolf-eyed creature in a soft voice, or as soft as a man who clearly gargled gravel could manage. “Let’s get you inside. You hungry, sweetheart?”

Iris blinked again, this time at the endearment.

“Ummmm,” she said. “Yes.”

“C’mon out of there, then,” he said. “We got one hell of a cook over at the bar, just across the parkin’ lot. He can make anythin’ you ask for.”

It occurred to her that she could get out of the van, all docile and sweet, and then just make a run for it. But that was pointless and dumb and would just piss them off and besides, she’d get two steps before tripping over her own feet in these damn boots.

So here was the moment of truth: she had to believe that despite appearances, these men wouldn’t hurt her. She had no reason to think they would, really, since they could have pulverized her by now and they hadn’t – so she had to have faith.Realfaith, the kind that Gideon knew nothing about despite all his preaching, the kind which had eluded her for years and years, maybe her whole life. But she had to have some now.

After all, faith got me this far, so maybe it can take me just a tiny little bit farther.

With a sense of falling, a sense of flying, Iris climbed down to the ground, realized that the men were even taller and bigger now than she’d thought from her elevated position. But they were forming a loose semi-circle around her now and gazing down at her with real worry on their hard faces.

Without saying a word, they’d all moved to block her from the wind howling around them, and without touching her, they’d started to guide her over to a building called Satan’s Bar. Iris’ feet began to move on their accord and despite herself, she felt something that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. She was so surprised at the feeling that at first she couldn’t believe it; it took her several seconds to actually name the emotion, and then she knew that it was true:

She felt protected.

Chapter Five

Wolf, Scars, Ice and Viking stared down the hallway at the young woman eating a sandwich in Wolf’s office, then looked at each other. They’d left her alone in there so she’d feel less surrounded and overwhelmed, but they had left the door open: she was a stranger and they needed at least three sets of eyes on her at all times.

“OK, so,” Wolf said to Viking. “Any thoughts, man?”

“Yeah, and none of them are good,” Viking said. “You’re gonna be pissed, Prez.”

---