Page 9 of Valkyrie Unknown

He rolled his neck, looked at her, and then walked out of the bar.

I turned to the barely conscious girl, ignoring the people behind me who were in a panic over the exchange. This couldn’t be Azzie, the goddess-to-be I was destined to protect. This woman didn’t look anything like the girl I’d tried to train more than a decade ago.

“Tank u.” Her voice was weak.

I knelt next to her. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Azrael.” She pushed the syllables out with force. “Hi Davyn.” She passed out.

The bedlam around me spilled in. So much noise, for so few people.

“Do you want me to call someone?” The bartender’s question rang above the chaotic chatter. “Police? Paramedics?”

I glanced at him and summoned a reassuring smile. It didn’t work, based on how he recoiled. “She’s okay,” I said and grabbed a small wad of cash from my wallet. I tossed the money on the nearest table, hoping he would get the hint that I wanted him to forget this entire thing. “She drank too much. I’m going to take her back to her room.”

The couple a few tables overlooked like they were going to argue—rather, the woman did—but the man grabbed her arm and shook his head.

What an ass. I was grateful for it tonight, though. I scooped Azzie into my arms and lifted her with no effort. We walked out of the bar without any further interruption.

The walk to my motel was short. Thankfully, I’d gotten a room on the back side, so we were hidden from the front office as I let myself into the place while holding an unconscious woman.

I laid her on one of the beds. I had no interest in undressing her, but the daggers tucked inside her waistband needed to be moved out of reach, so she didn’t use them on me when she woke up.

She’d recognized me. After all these years. To me, she looked nothing like the eleven-year-old I remembered. She was a different person, where I hadn’t visibly aged a day.

When she was a child, I sought her out because it was my fault that Loki started looking for her. After her mother banished me from their lives, she arranged for some sort of magic, to hide Azzie. While I didn’t know that firsthand, everyone I’d talked to who should be capable of finding her had been unable to do so.

Until Aya.

What happened, to leave Azzie exposed now?

I wrapped my fist around the pendant on my neck and yanked, snapping the leather cord that held it in place. The plain oval was made of amethyst and engraved with a pair of runes that masked me from anyone looking for the magical signature of the owner.

This is for you. To keep you safe. I repeated the words over and over in my head, as I grabbed one of her sheaths and flipped open the clasp that secured the knife. A tingle of power shocked me when I brushed my fingers over the handle. Elven.

Did she know how to use these? Presumably, or she wouldn’t be carrying them. She’d have a mass-manufactured switchblade or butterfly knife tucked into a boot. Strapped to the inside of her leg. In a purse.

I couldn’t wield the knife—it was charmed to only allow her or those she gave permission to touch it. Instead, I let it slide out gently onto the nightstand, and held onto the holster.

The memory of the first time I approached her mother faded from my thoughts years ago. Tonight, it was fresh. Azzie would have been six. Of course her mom told me to fuck off. I kept a loose eye on them for years, though. From a distance. I’d sicced Loki on a child; of course I had to make sure she stayed safe.

Her mother sent her to martial-arts classes. Local dojos and gyms. When I approached Azzie at eleven, letting her make the decision to train with me, I thought she’d be stronger. She hadn’t been learning from qualified people, but she had a knack for the fight.

This is for you. To keep you safe. The leatherwork on this sheath was delicate and beautiful. Easy enough to weave a new strap through and tuck the small crystal off to the side. Out of the way, where it could keep her hidden again without obstructing the functionality of the original object.

There was a knock at the door, and I frowned. I set the enchanted holster next to the knife and went to answer.

A police officer.Fuck. I hid my surprise and concern. “May I help you?” No reason to be rude.

“How are you this evening?” he asked.

I was in the second to last place I wanted to be, concerned about a woman I should have been done with more than a decade ago. “I’m all right.”

“Were you at the bar a little while ago?”

Someone called them about Azzie after all. Unless that baby Berserker went to them. I doubted that. He’d crawled back to his cave. “I was.”

“Are you in town for long?”

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