Page 2 of Valkyrie Unknown

“What?” Said boss wasn’t far away. He glanced at us then stalked to Jay’s pickup and threw open the metal plated carrier in the back. He pulled out a powered drill, and then several other tools, which had been available to us on the site today.

“I told you he stashed them somewhere.” Jay pointed at Santos.

Greg—the boss—lunged at Jay. “You fucking asshole.” He punched Jay once and pinned him to the side of the truck. “How long?”

Gods damn it. The hint of a fight called to me. It would be so fun to step in. For the justice of it, but also for the fight. To teach this arrogant man a lesson.

I cracked my neck and turned away, as the shouting continued behind me—something about howmy daughter should have known betterandstupid fucking old man, with several of the temp workers chiming in both in English and Spanish.

The workers would get paid. They’d see to it. But I couldn’t be here because a light brawl would become a war, blood would be shed, and I’d spend a few days sitting in a jail cell trying to explain why I didn’t have ID and why they couldn’t find me in their computers.

I walked off the job site, and down a sidewalk that was only a few weeks old, next to asphalt that hadn’t been here much longer. The scents of tar and oil filled the air, and heat radiated from the blacktop, baking the dirt that lined the path. Over the next few months, all of these plots of land would be filled with wooden skeletons of houses covered with plastic armor and windows that amplified the giant yellow ball in the sky.

Today, I’d head back to the hardware store where I parked my Ranchero and decide whether this town was worth staying in. There weren’t many contractors in a place like this, and after today, Greg and his men would remember me. I wasn’t interested in gaining a reputation.

Something didn’t smell right.

I sniffed the air.

Which never smelled right anyway, but there was something hidden among the modern scents. Ice and ozone and perfumed clay.

And cat fur.

Freya.

I followed my nose to see her leaning against a sign proclaimingModel Home Coming Soon.

“Aya.” I didn’t understand the way some of the immortals chose to shorten their names, but she and her twin, Freyr, had always been two of the more adaptable gods. Not that it was a high bar. A god was built on the faith that created them. To change meant to risk losing themselves. Then again, given the way the world had grown, to remain static meant death.

So few mortals followed the old ways anymore.

“What can I do for you?” I asked, as the scent of blood drifted toward me. Jay’s, in fact. The fight I left behind had grown more serious, and I itched to go back. Seeing Aya reminded me why I shouldn’t, since she was whom I called after I got involved in the last one.

Being beholden to the gods was one of the worst things I could do. I’d spent centuries trying to escape exactly that.

She pushed away from the sign and strode toward me. Blond dreads tied the rest of her hair back from her face. Her jeans and the T-shirt that read NEON on it in purple and blue letters made her look like a twenty-something mortal, rather than an ancient goddess of war and fertility. “I found her.” She saved the words until she was next to me, and she said them quietly.

“Good for you.” I turned and walked in the other direction, ignoring the twist in my gut.

Freya’s—Aya’s—growl rivaled that of her brother’s mate, Fenrir. She fell into step beside me, matching my quick pace. “If I found her, someone else will.”

Regardless of what a nagging conscience tried to tell me, it didn’t matter. Theherin question was in her mid-twenties and the subject of several prophecies, including one that said I would protect her until she reached full power.

What didfull powermean? I didn’t have a clue. No one did when it came to prophecies. They were widely accepted to be open to interpretation, though her mother assumed the words meant she’d become a goddess.

“Someone else will find her regardless, and she’ll cut them down.” The prophecies were vague there as well, but they all implied she would survive.

Aya huffed. “You owe me, Davyn.”

“Iowe youfor bailing me out of jail. That’s not a fucking life debt. It’s when I buy you lunch next time you’re in town. Speaking of—let’s go get a burger, then you can be on your way.”

“Davyn, please. Go meet her. Introduce yourself. Let her choose if she wants your protection.”

I’d already tried to protect her. When she was much younger, I approached her mother—a seer who knew her daughter was destined to be more.Let me train her. Let me teach her to fend for herself.

Her mother had refused.She’s a child. Regardless of what her future holds, I’m not turning her safety over to an immortal who can’t control himself when he’s a bear.

I could have argued that she was wrong about my control, but she wasn’t. Most berserkers lost control when we shifted into our bear or wolf forms. The more primal instincts took over, and we were animals.

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