Chapter Seven

Before Violet had a chance to register what Gersemi was shouting about, she’d crossed the room in a blur and held the man aloft by his throat. She slammed him against the wall, her teeth bared in a menacing snarl. He grinned maniacally back at her, his face morphing into a gross caricature of Ragnar’s.

Hello Loki. It’s been a long time.

The words hung in the air, their source not readily apparent to anyone but Violet. She heard them in her head.

“The universe’s most useful idiot,” Loki croaked, “Put me down. This demeans you as much as it does me.”

It doesn’t. The scum on a flea’s asshole has more honor than you.

“Colorful as ever,” he sniffed, wincing as Violet’s grip tightened.

The blade has been destroyed. The bow is lost. YOU have lost.

“Ah, but you see—it was never really about any of that.”

You mistake me for someone who cares.

“What if I told you that I could bring you back—as if Ragnarok had never even happened?”

The room suddenly darkened and shook. Lightning danced across the ceiling. Thor strode in and Mjolnir glowed in his hand. Flanking him were Ragnar and Erik. Violet hadn’t seen Erik since she’d left Valhalla. Erik slammed the office door and regarded them all with feigned indifference. His eyes landed on Loki and he glared.

“You were warned not to come here again. Go back to whatever hell dimension from whence you slithered!” Thor thundered, holding Mjolnir parallel to the floor and pointed directly at the God of Mischief and Calamity.

Lightning erupted from it and struck Loki in the chest. Violet let go of him as soon as Thor fired and she stumbled backwards, her knees buckling as she fell. Loki disappeared before their eyes in a cloud of sickly green smoke and sinister laughter. Sif caught Violet before she hit the floor and helped wrestle her back into her wheelchair. Violet slumped over the desk, breathing hard, her vision tunneling and blackening at the edges. Sif stood behind her, gently rubbing her back and murmuring platitudes.

Erik placed a granola bar on the desk in front of Violet while Thor fetched her a bottle of water from the mini fridge. Once Violet had recovered enough to sit up, she hastily chugged the water and wolfed down the food. As she did all that, Thor, Sif, Ragnar, and Erik discussed what had just happened. Their lack of concern troubled Violet but she wasn’t able at the moment to voice those concerns. She was struggling to stay conscious.

“He’ll be back,” Thor grunted in dismay.

“How did you know he was here?” Sif asked.

Thor sighed and held out an odd-looking contraption. Like a console game control, but with a small screen at its center. Sif nodded in understanding and called it a spirit tracker. Violet struggled to focus enough to ask any questions but cataloged it in her memory to ask Sif or even Gersemi about it later.

“He’s getting desperate. Sloppy,” Thor mused aloud.

“That’s not like him. He’s luring us into thinking that,” Sif countered. “Loki is many things, but desperate and sloppy? No.”

“He wants Gersemi,” Ragnar said. “He’s always chased after Gersemi. Whatever part she may have played before, he isn’t done with her.”

“Or, he has a new role for her,” Erik suggested.

“That’s more probable,” Sif agreed. “Violet is a wild card right now. We don’t know the depth or expanse of her abilities. We don’t know what she can do, what power she commands. She could be one Valkyrie or she could be a dozen.”

They hadn’t had a chance to tell Thor about their discoveries yet, so the news was baffling to him.

“What do you mean she could be more than one Valkyrie?” Thor asked, taking the seat Loki occupied moments before.

“When someone attempted to assassinate her, they used a soulblade. It trapped a piece of Gersemi’s soul, but not all of it. Gondul’s intervention stopped them. Violet couldn’t fledge until she got it back. But, the magic I had to use to accomplish it took all of the souls imprisoned in the blade, not just the piece of Gersemi’s,” Sif explained for them.

She is right, little brother.

Thor’s attention whipped toward Violet.

“Gers? Is that you?”

It is. I cannot speak like this for long because it is extremely taxing to our spirit energy. But know that I am here. As are many, many others.

“Amazing,” Thor breathed.

“Terrifying, more like,” Ragnar coughed.

“What have you found out from Odin and Freyja?” Sif interrupted them. “You said you would consult with them about our potential return?”

“Gersemi—I mean, Violet’s power will not be as strong in Asgard as it will here, regardless of her soul’s origin. She had to fledge as soon as possible once Gersemi was freed, otherwise they both would have perished. Freyja is upset that we couldn’t bring her to Valhalla, but there was nothing to be done about it. Since Violet cannot realize her full potential in Valhalla, Valhalla… Is coming here. Or rather, a few of the senior Valkyries,” Thor informed them.

“Which ones?” Sif asked.

“Gondul, of course. Lagertha and Freydis for sure, possibly a couple others eventually,” Thor replied.

Ragnar rolled his eyes and Erik burst into laughter.

“What?” Violet feebly asked. “Why is that funny?”

“Lagertha and Ragnar were married once,” Erik chuckled. “She hates him.”

Rightfully so, Gersemi added in Violet’s head. Violet smirked to herself.

“How will that work?” Violet asked.

“What, Lagertha and Ragnar being in the same place at the same time?” Erik scoffed.

“No,” Violet giggled. “The training. Here.”

“Gondul will be in touch,” Thor cryptically stated. “She’s in charge of that and I’m not getting in her way.”

“So will you all go back to Asgard then?” Violet asked.

“Uh, Loki is on the attack and we still don’t know which assassin’s guild or which assassin is trying to kill you,” Thor replied and Erik and Ragnar chuckled.

“Dumbass,” Sif muttered, though the impish smile on her face implied it was less an insult but more an endearment.

“I’m just asking,” Violet said. “Damn.”

There was a knock on the door then and Sif hopped up to open it. One of the female fighters that Violet had agreed to work with that evening stood there.

“Is now a bad time?” she nervously asked, seeing the office was full.

“Come in, Jessica. These guys were just leaving,” Violet called to the woman, waving her in.

“We’ll talk more later,” Thor said as the men stood and departed.

“Who was that?” Jessica Humboldt, a welterweight female fighter from an all-female allied gym, Team Pele, asked as her eyes followed Ragnar out.

He noticed and flashed her a flirtatious grin and a wink before Sif shut the door in his face.

“Trouble. And you want none of it,” Violet quipped, motioning for the woman to sit in the chair across from her.

“Oh! Are you and him like—a thing?” Jessica queried sheepishly.

Sif snorted as she sat in the chair Thor had vacated. Violet gave a short bark of laughter.

“Him? Never. I’d just as soon use his guts for garters,” Violet replied, taking up one of the woman’s proffered hands and spraying it down.

“Oh, okay. I wondered. We all thought you and Ashley were an item,” Jessica giggled, her kind, dark eyes sparkling.

“You’re correct there,” Violet said, grinning.

“So who is that guy then?” Jessica pressed.

“That is Ragnar and unless you want a gaggle of illegitimate children by a man who views women as nothing but his playthings and doesn’t give a damn about how many bastards he sires, I would suggest that you turn your attention to someone more worthy,” Sif answered, picking up her tablet and starting a game.

“Oh, sweetie… Is he your dad then?” Jessica innocently asked.

“No. Thank the All Father for that,” Sif replied without looking up from the game.

“The All Father?” Jessica said, confused.

“It’s part of the lore in that game she’s always playing. Never mind her,” Violet interceded, drawing a pleased grin from the fae, though she still didn’t look up.

“Oh,” Jessica murmured simply.

*****

“You seem miles away this evening,” Manny commented as Violet commenced wrapping his hands for his fight.

“Lot going on that I can’t really talk about,” Violet quietly replied, focusing on the task at hand.

“I understand. Tay can’t shut up about the dresses and your wings,” Manny tactfully changed the subject, offering her a genuine smile.

“Did she show you the dresses?” Violet asked, aghast. “You know it’s bad luck for the groom to see the dress before he’s married.”

Manny laughed, “No she didn’t show them to me. She’s just so excited. Makes me happy she’s still stuck by me after the mess the past year has been.”

“Tay’s a real one. Ride or die,” Violet breathed.

“One of a kind,” Manny agreed. “So, I heard that team Libertas might have a spot opening up.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Violet’s ears perked. She looked up sharply and met Manny’s dark gaze. His grin broadened, revealing his teeth. He laughed, amused with the hope in her expression.

“Would they be willing to give Decker a shot?” Violet quietly asked.

“Yes. They’re a smaller camp with no alternates, but their welterweight is retiring and going into broadcasting. They’ll pay less per fight, but he’ll fight more often so it should balance out. They’ve got a few high level sponsors, too,” Manny answered her.

“Have you told him yet?” Violet queried.

“No. But I can send you their HR person’s information and you can be the one to give it to him.”

“Thank you for this, Manny. I appreciate it immensely,” Violet said, winding the tape around his wrist.

They finished fight prep in comfortable silence after that. Manny’s game face snapped into place as they stood. Manny waited as Violet packed up her kits and cut the lights, then together they walked to the tunnel. Taylor, Dezzy, Gorski, and Peyton waited for them.

“You got this, bro,” Gorski said as they walked up, clapping Manny on the back.

“Ain’t over ‘til it’s over,” Manny sighed. “Let’s bang.”

Violet followed the entourage in silence, joined at arena’s edge by Manny’s three coaches. Tay and Violet stood in Manny’s corner as he was announced and watched as he entered the ring after Bolimba. Dezzy, Peyton, and Gorski sat in the ringside front row behind them. The crowd was deafening as Manny took the cage and he waved to them, drawing a fresh roar from everyone in attendance.

The two fighters touched gloves at the center of the ring and the ref started the fight.

Luis Bolimba came out swinging. Manny ducked and weaved, having been prepared for the notorious striker’s opening salvo. A couple glancing body shots found purchase, however Manny landed a snappy, powerful kick first to the other man’s hip, then to his opposite knee.

If the kicks had done any significant damage, Bolimba didn’t readily show it. He pressed in, forcing Manny to retreat from the devastating flurry of haymakers launched at him. Manny finally saw his opening and dove for the knee he’d hit earlier.

“God damn, but he has some mean takedowns,” Tay cried as the men fell to the mat, Manny on top as the aggressor.

“Best in the biz,” Violet agreed, watching as the fighters grappled for hand positioning and submission attempts.

Bolimba’s ground defense had vastly improved. Manny struggled first for an arm bar, then a rear naked choke, and almost got his foot locked in for a triangle body choke. The men were too sweaty by that point and just as Manny was about to lock it in, Bolimba arched his hips and dug deep, slipping from Manny’s grasp.

Both fighters regained their footing quickly and began circling the cage again, neither too keen about getting within striking range. The end of round buzzer sounded and they went to their respective corners. The crowd, expecting a knockout or quick submission, booed its displeasure.

Manny’s ground game coach screamed at him. He was apparently quite upset with the fighter’s performance. Violet hadn’t seen any mistakes, though she was the first to admit to not being an expert. Taylor glowered at the coach but remained silent, the furrow in her brows telling of her apparent worry.

The second-round bell sounded and both fighters blitzed toward each other. Manny landed a solid right cross to Bolimba’s jaw but ate a hard body shot to his left side for the effort. They locked up and battled to toss each other, grappling for the upper hand.

After several moments of jockeying for a grip, Manny was able to trip Bolimba. They crashed to the ground together as Bolimba threw a vicious elbow that just grazed Manny’s brow. Violet winced as it happened and her worry escalated to fear when she saw the blood begin to trickle down Manny’s face.

He didn’t seem to notice, however. He’d gained the advantage and Bolimba ate several slicing elbow throws and a couple hard punches as they landed. Violet heard the breath rush out of Bolimba’s lungs as they crashed savagely to the mat and cringed. It was a nasty takedown and Manny used his opponent’s lack of wind to his advantage. He rained down several more blows before Bolimba recovered enough to get his guard back up.

Again, they fought for submission attempts. Manny put on a clinic on transitions but Bolimba was able to fend him off until the end of the round buzzer. That was Violet’s cue to get to work. She raced up the steps to Manny’s corner and slapped Vaseline into the wide cut over Manny’s left eyebrow while his coaches excitedly barked orders and observations at him.

His eyes caught hers as she wiped the excess Vaseline away and toweled his shoulders down.

Tell him to stay on his feet this time.

Violet didn’t recognize the voice and stood back, stumbling a couple steps, startled.

It’s okay, Gersemi’s voice said, She’s right. Leg kicks to that left knee to soften it up more and he’s not expecting the uppercut. Feign the right cross and bring in the left uppercut, straight from the hip, hard as he can. That guy is gonna drop his chin right into it.

“Inside leg kick to his left knee, fake right cross, land the left uppercut hard from the hip,” Violet parroted.

The three coaches stared at her and blinked.

“It could work,” Mike Garcia, also one of Dezzy’s coaches, said.

“He’s favoring that knee,” Angus Lee, one of the other coaches agreed. “He’s trying to hide it, but he was limping a little at the end of the second.”

Manny nodded and tenderly prodded the cut above his eye. It had stopped bleeding for the moment, but Violet knew if he took any more damage to the left side of his face, the blood could spill into his left eye and leave him vulnerable to strikes from Bolimba’s right-side cannon.

“Watch out for his right hook and jab,” Mike added, as if following their trains of thought.

Manny nodded again, took another long swig from the water bottle the ring boy gave him, and stood. He shook out his arms while his staff exited the cage.

“What did you say to him?” Tay asked as Violet rejoined her behind the coaches.

“Inside leg kick to that left knee, fake right cross, hard left uppercut,” Violet said again.

Taylor nodded, watching as the third round started. Bolimba jumped in swinging with absolute fury and Manny took another couple body shots as he dodged and evaded. As soon as Bolimba gave him space though, he let fly with a hard inside kick to the other fighter’s left knee. Bolimba winced visibly and Manny faked the right cross, which Bolimba moved to block…

And left his chin wide open for the devastating left uppercut that Manny executed with stunningly perfect, predatory grace. The hit landed with a sickening thud, whipping Bolimba’s head back. He fell backwards, arms flailing limply, and Manny followed, moving in for the kill.

Bolimba was out before he hit the ground and the ref immediately dove in, sparing him from any ground and pound that Manny might have delivered.

The arena exploded in cheers, prompting both Taylor and Violet to clutch their ears as they screamed and jumped up and down together. They were quickly joined by Dezzy, Gorski, and Peyton, whose own cries were drowned by the arena’s thunderous approval.

I told you so, Gersemi’s voice laughed in Violet’s mind.

“Thank you,” Violet said aloud, though no one else could hear her for the noise.

You’re welcome, two voices said in unison.

*****

Violet leaned heavily on Peyton as they walked out to Taylor and Manuel’s back yard. She didn’t want to use the chair if she didn’t have to and the past couple days, her legs had been bearing her weight far better. Her presence at the after party had been a command from Manny, who wanted to her to join in the celebration.

Peyton helped her settle into one of the chaise lounge chairs at the edge of the firepit. The house was full of revelers and it was too hot for her. Violet scooched over, patting the spot next to her expectantly. Peyton smiled and sat next to her, sighing happily as she rested her head on his chest.

Violet lifted her head a moment later when she heard a croaking noise.

“What’s wrong?” Peyton drawled, tucking a strand of flyaway hair behind her ear.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“It was… Some weird kind of croaking noise. Not like a frog. Just…”

The noise sounded again, closer, louder. Violet’s eyes snapped toward the area from where she’d heard it.

“I didn’t hear anythin’, Vi,” Peyton sleepily stated.

Everything suddenly went still, as if the world had just stopped. It was eerily quiet. Peyton slumped back against the chaise, his eyes closed, his breathing deep and even. The party in the house grew still. No one yelled to their friends, the music stopped, and time seemed to halt completely.

The croaking sound came again, that time near her head. Violet turned and looked up at the top of the high privacy fence.

The largest raven Violet had ever seen perched there, its dark, intelligent eyes studying her. It tilted its head and made the croaking noise again. It hopped across the top of the fence, toward the gate that led to the front lawn. It croaked again, hopping in place, its wings flapping in agitation.

Follow him, Gersemi’s voice softly reverberated in Violet’s head.

Violet looked back at Peyton’s sleeping form, loath to leave him by himself when he was vulnerable.

He’ll be fine. Heed the Raven’s call.

Violet sighed and limped after the bird, following the fence to the gate. She pushed through, closing it behind her, and the raven alighted from the fence and flew across the street. It waited on the top of a light pole as she slowly caught up.

The bird croaked down at her, then flapped its wings frantically so that it hovered over the post. It landed again and regarded her with something of an expectant expression. She thought she understood what the bird wanted and looked around. The world remained still and silent. She didn’t see anyone watching, so she summoned her spirit wings.

They unfolded behind her, glowing brightly as they manifested. She bent her knees and flapped at the same time, then jumped into the air. The bird alighted from the pole and flew in front of her, soaring on the currents over Las Vegas. She followed the raven for what felt to her like several miles, landing on top of a parking garage in a rundown neighborhood.

As Violet landed, the bird hopped to her shoulder and made a purring noise in its throat. Violet reached up and scratched the top of its head, which only served to increase the volume of the raven’s purring.

She looked up when a car horn honked and it was as though the world had been placed on pause, then someone pushed the play button. Violet stroked the raven’s head as she watched the traffic move below, unsure of what to do next.

“What are we doing here?” Violet found herself asking aloud, unsure of who she really addressed; the bird or the several voices swirling in her head.

That thought alone should have had her running for the advice of a shrink. Talk to the bird or talk to the voices in her head? Not exactly the sanest choices in dialogue partners.

Sighing, Violet continued watching the cars and pedestrian traffic moving along the streets below. The raven stayed on her shoulder, keenly observant of a particular stretch of the street, so she focused her attention where the bird focused its own interest.

Several minutes quietly passed before the raven suddenly launched from Violet’s shoulder. She watched as it silently floated to a palm tree up the street below them. Violet noted that two men walked toward each other. One was in a trench coat, the other in an athletic trainer suit.

The man in the trench was on his phone as he walked and seemingly tucked the device into a pocket. Violet’s body went rigid as the man’s hand emerged with a large handgun, a silencer attached to its barrel. Before she could react any further, the men passed each other. As their paths intersected and diverged, the man in the trench turned and fired, hitting the track-suit guy squarely in the back three times.

The raven left its post and flew down next to the dying man’s form, croaking loudly, its eyes turned toward Violet. Violet moved to chase the man in the trench, but her body seized and froze. Frustrated, she fought to move, immediately realizing that she could only move toward the downed man and not toward the murderer.

She jumped off the ledge of the parking garage, flared her wings, and landed next to the raven and the fallen man. She knelt down and gently turned him over.

“Help me,” he whispered, blood and pink foam seeping from his lips.

“I offer you a choice,” Violet found herself saying, her voice sounding as though several women spoke together.

“A.. Choice..” the man weakly sputtered.

Violet’s hand moved seemingly of its own accord, offered to the man.

“Come with me and live forever in the halls of Valhalla, a loyal warrior in service to the All Father. Or perish here,” Violet and the many voices said.

“But my family?” he choked, holding the ruin that was his chest, his eyes flying wide at the sight of all the blood and gore.

“They will live on, as all who lose those they love must,” Violet whispered, re-offering her hand.

He weakly reached for her and as soon as their skin touched, the world fell away and bright prisms of light flowed frenetically around them. Violet’s vision swam with images, like a sped-up movie with many short scenes. She saw who the man was at his core, what he had accomplished.

He’d come from a poor family. His father had been murdered when he was still in elementary school. He was the oldest of five children and helped his mother any way he could. He’d done well in school and joined the Army when he graduated. He served valiantly and honorably in combat. He was an MMA fighter for a small team in one of the smaller, training leagues. He’d been an avid supporter and volunteer for a large dog rescue in the Vegas area.

He was worthy of Odin’s service. She was sure of it, as sure as she was of anything in her life. She knew it down to the marrow of her bones.

The man cried out and clung to her as the light flashed around them. They floated higher and higher, the world disappearing and leaving them in vast, infinite emptiness.

As suddenly as it began, the flight ended. They found themselves in the training courtyard in Valhalla. Violet helped the man to his feet. They both looked around, joined nearly immediately by several of the Einherjar. Gondul appeared a split second later, her grin fierce as she regarded Violet.

“Thou heedst the Raven’s Call and escort the worthy to Odin’s Hall!” the frightening raven-woman called, drawing cheers from the growing crowd.

It appeared to be early evening in Valhalla. The supper banquet had not yet been served. Violet watched as the man was led toward the barracks by the raucous, joyful, rowdy Einherjar in attendance. As they turned the corner to leave the training yard, he looked back at Violet. He smiled and waved before being swept away with the cheering men.

Violet turned when Gondul cleared her throat.

“You have fledged,” she said, walking a tight circle around Violet.

Gondul studied her as one might appraise a newly acquired vehicle. She gently ran her fingers down the length of one of Violet’s wings, her expression infinitely pleased.

“I will be joining you soon, on Earth. It is good to see you, daughter,” Gondul said.

“We will be heading back now,” Violet found herself saying, again in multiple tones.

“Be safe and be well, my daughter. You have done your sisters proud this day,” Gondul replied, crossing her arm over her chest and giving a slight bow.

Violet mimicked her and then realized…

“Um—how do I get back?” she sheepishly asked.

Gondul laughed, an oddly merry sound that didn’t fit the curmudgeonly, cranky woman at all. She stepped forward and placed her palm against Violet’s chest.

The next thing she knew, she sat on the chaise lounge next to Peyton. The music from the party blasted and something happened that caused many people to loudly cheer. Peyton sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“I’m sorry darlin’,” he croaked. “I didn’t mean ta doze off on ya.”

Violet smiled and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, planting a quick kiss to his forehead.

“Wanna get out of here?” she softly asked him.

“Let’s go home,” he agreed.