Chapter Six

It was quiet in the house when Taylor dropped Violet off. Dezzy and Peyton were doing an evening training session with Thor and Manny. Violet noticed two men sitting in a vehicle near the house. They nodded surreptitiously in greeting and she returned it.

At least she knew she wasn’t completely alone; the Einherjar were in attendance. It made her feel better as she wheeled herself inside. She bolted the door behind her and proceeded out to the back patio.

The late evening sun was a low, ruddy disc in the west as it sank towards the mountains. A gentle breeze carried the scents of the palms and hibiscus flowers that adorned the little oasis. Heat radiated off the stones and the air above the pavement shimmered with its intensity.

Violet transferred herself from the wheelchair to one of the low benches next to the small koi pond and fountain that sat in the center of the backyard. As she achieved a comfortable position, she thought back to what Tay had said.

Why can’t you talk to each other?

Why not indeed? And why hadn’t she thought to try something like that earlier?

She realized it was because she was afraid. She feared what she might learn about Gersemi, about herself, about the messed-up situation in which she found herself. Then she realized she had no idea how to even go about it. How did one talk to a past life?

If you spent half as much time actually doing the things you spend so much time thinking about, you’d be a force with which to be reckoned.

Violet started and looked around, unsure of where the voice came from. Even more baffling—it sounded like her voice.

“Gersemi?” she tentatively asked.

The one and only.

It was then that Violet saw her: A translucent twin of herself sat on the opposite side of the fountain. The only major differences between the two were the color of their eyes and the color of their hair. Gersemi’s hair was a vibrant, deep shade of red that seemed enhanced in the light of the setting sun. Her eyes glowed a pretty violet hue. She wore an impressive ensemble of armor: An ice blue, enchanted metal breastplate, pauldrons, gauntlets, and greaves. Protecting her torso was a corset made of the same metal but interwoven with links of the metal and an odd mahogany type of leather. The link pattern was exquisitely crafted. Her thick leather breeches matched the mahogany-hued leather interwoven with the corset. Her hair was tightly braided against her scalp and she wore a beautiful silver tiara set with what looked like amethysts.

Odd, isn’t it? Seeing a different version of yourself?

Violet realized that Gersemi’s lips didn’t move, though her expression changed. She heard the Asgardian Princess’s voice in her head, not with her ears.

“I guess so. We don’t look that much different.”

I like me as a brunette. I never thought to go darker.

“We finally get to talk and you want to discuss hair color?”

Gersemi’s laugh reverberated through Violet’s head. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, just odd.

I wanted first to thank you for being kind to Sif about this whole mess. She doesn’t deserve the pain she’s been put through.

Violet nodded and said, “While she’s a pain in the ass sometimes, I never doubt her loyalty.”

Nor should you. Of anyone, Sif is your greatest ally. Do not abuse that trust. Do not abuse her.

“I didn’t plan to.”

Of course not. Now, about those other visions you keep having. Do you understand what has happened to us?

“We’re just gonna jump right in, huh?”

Don’t be a dumbass. We have to get this situation dealt with. Immediately. Loki is planning something and we’re going to fuck it up as much as we can.

She disappeared, then reappeared right next to Violet. To her credit, Violet didn’t so much as flinch. She regarded the specter of herself and sighed.

“Yes. We are. But how?”

Do you know how a soulblade works?

“I think so? You stab someone with it, it sucks their soul out, and kills them.”

That’s an abrupt and mostly accurate description. But they retain the soul. The soul itself survives within the blade—it’s the vessel that perishes. If Gondul hadn’t intervened when she did, our soul would still be trapped in that wretched blade.

“So what happens when a blade is destroyed? Like the one that was used against us?”

The souls die with it.

“The souldeath,” Violet breathed.

Yes. But what happens when only a piece of a soul is contained? What happens if the process is reversed?

“I’m not sure I follow.”

Gersemi’s expression flashed brief annoyance.

“I know, I know. I’m a dumbass,” said Violet, rolling her eyes.

You are not a dumbass, you’re just a fledgling who hasn’t been properly instructed and this situation is quite unprecedented.

“I’m surprised to hear you say that.”

Don’t be. If I call you a dumbass, what does that make me?

“A dumbass,” Sif’s voice said from behind them, startling them both.

Siffy…

“Don’t call me that,” Sif immediately replied, cutting Gersemi off. “I hate it when you call me that. Especially in front of others.”

You have done well with this one, my heart of hearts.

“Thank you,” Sif quietly said, offering the specter a soft smile.

“So what happens to the souls trapped in a blade if the process is… Reversed, as you said?” Violet asked, turning the conversation back on track.

The visions you see, the ones of others perishing? Their souls exist within you. Within us. You are now their vessel.

Violet’s mind reeled as she contemplated the weight of the statement. She hadn’t had a vision of another person’s demise in a couple days, but the sheer number of them was staggering. There had to have been dozens of souls trapped in that blade and when Sif had worked whatever magic to return the missing piece of Gersemi’s soul—it meant that instead of just the broken, missing piece of Gersemi, she’d been imbued with all of them. All those poor people…

Violet realized that both Gersemi and Sif stared expectantly at her.

“Oh my god,” Violet whispered.

Gersemi nodded.

All who were lost within that blade were women. All perished at the hands of an Unworthy. All could have been Valkyrie, if given the choice. They were not, until you happened.

“Wait,” Sif said then, “So you’re not just a Valkyrie. You’re many. But how is that possible? There can only ever be thirteen Valkyries in existence. That’s Odin’s Law.”

And so there are only thirteen. One just happens to be Legion—for she is many.

Violet and Sif looked at each other, gobsmacked.

“But what does that mean for me, errr—for us then?” Violet asked.

That I do not know. It’s never happened like this before. We could be more powerful than even Gondul. If we were in Valhalla, that is. I’m not sure what it means for an Earth guardian. We are the first of our kind in many, many ways.

“I’m sorry,” Violet interjected. “Choose to become a Valkyrie, okay. I understand that whole deal. But this? Are we—are we all of them?”

I don’t know. You know as much as I do, or anyone else for that matter, Gersemi gently said. For now, I must go. This is costing us a whole lot of spirit energy to accomplish at the moment. Just know that I am always here and we will figure this out. Together.

“Don’t go,” Sif whispered, the gut-wrenching pain in her voice breaking something within Violet to hear it.

I’m not going anywhere, Sif. I’m here. I see and hear you. Always.

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The specter disappeared and an acute wave of exhaustion flowed over Violet. She was forced to lower her head between her knees and her breath came in deep, heavy gasps. Sif smoothed her hand up and down Violet’s back, murmuring softly, though Violet couldn’t understand what all she said for the ringing in her ears.

“You should eat something. And drink some water,” Sif said when Violet had regained enough of her strength and senses to sit back upright.

“Okay,” Violet breathed, allowing the fae to help her from the bench into her chair.

She moved to start wheeling herself toward the door but was surprised when Sif took over. Violet offered her a grateful smile over her shoulder as Sif pushed her inside. They went together into the kitchen, where Sif grabbed one of the pre-made smoothies out of the fridge and fetched a tall glass of ice water.

Violet downed the smoothie quickly, then drank the water. Sif sat next to her at the kitchen island in contemplative silence, an expression of sad deliberation written across her beautiful features. Violet took the moment to study her.

Sif was quite beautiful, Violet realized, and she suddenly couldn’t think of her as others did when they saw her. She was far from childlike. She was thousands of years old, had witnessed countless ages, infinite heartbreak. Her white-blond hair was plaited against the sides of her head in two French braids that reached the middle of her back. Her face was eerily beautiful; high cheek bones, a cute button nose, feline-like deep blue eyes, and full, soft pink lips. The tips of her delicate, small ears were just slightly pointed. She wore a light blue tee with a glittery butterfly design on the front and cropped dark denim pants. White flip flops adorned her tiny feet. She’d painted her finger and toenails in a frosty, sparkly, ice blue.

“Don’t look at me like that,” the fairy whispered after a few silent moments.

“Like what?” Violet asked, befuddled.

“Like Gersemi,” Sif quietly replied, lifting her eyes to meet Violet’s.

“Were you happy to see her?”

“Immensely. Thank you for that,” she said, a kind smile brightening her features.

“What happened with the soulblade after—after you returned Gersemi’s fragment to me?”

“It was a revocation spell. A charge revocation spell. It simply undid the magic the blade performed. I didn’t know it had claimed so many other souls, though, and there was no way to restore Gersemi otherwise,” the fae quietly explained. “The others could have been Valkyries, if there weren’t already thirteen. And now, they are. All wrapped up in one dumbass.”

There was no malice in her tone and the impish smile she offered Violet in the wake of the statement removed any hint of insult from the words. Violet found herself laughing, which provoked the same from Sif.

It was then that the front door unlocked and Dezzy, Peyton, Manny, and Thor strode in. The four of them sang raucously and out of tune, some catchy old pop song.

“Sif!” Thor called. “Sif get us a tankard! Or ten!”

Sif rolled her eyes and turned her back to them, retorting, “I think you’ve had enough already.”

“Nonsense!” Thor bellowed. “No such thing!”

“I didn’t think gods could get drunk,” Violet mused, catching the fairy’s gaze.

“On Earth, he metabolizes differently. Slowly. It’s one of the reasons he likes coming here so much. He can’t get drunk in Valhalla as easily as he can here,” Sif morosely explained. “I’m going home. I’m not—I’m not feeling well.”

“Are you sure? Can I help?” Violet asked, worriedly.

Sif placed a tiny, steely, cold hand on her shoulder and said, “You already have.”

She disappeared and Thor howled in disapproval.

“I said a tankard, pixie!” he called belatedly as he gracelessly slumped onto the sofa.

Violet rolled her eyes, grabbed a six pack out of the fridge, and wheeled herself into the living room. It was a good thing she’d had that serving training in Valhalla. Otherwise she might have accidentally spilled the beer bottle on him.

*****

“Vi, I don’t understand where this all is coming from,” Manny said, taking the seat at his desk across from where Violet sat in her chair.

“I made a promise,” Violet candidly replied.

“To Decker? Really?” he laughed, opening up his laptop.

“He has the same problem Peyton had,” Violet said. “And he’s been helping me in the gym.”

“We don’t have a spot, Vi.”

She sat back in her chair, shifting uncomfortably before saying, “What about another camp?”

Manny sighed and sat back in his seat as well, his hands behind his head, fingers laced together, as he studied her.

“I’ll make inquiries, but you better be careful, Vi. You never know whose toes you could be steppin’ on, and in this city, in this game? Fuckin’ with people’s cashflow is a good way to end up on a missing person social media post and they’ll never find your body.”

We’d like to see them try.

Violet bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from smiling at Gersemi’s interjection.

“I understand completely,” Violet said. “I did what I could.”

Manny made a ‘harumphing’ noise in the back of his throat and sat forward, his hands settling on the keyboard. Knowing she’d been dismissed, Violet wheeled her way out of the gym owner’s office. She made her way over to the leg weight machine area in the gym, where Decker and Destiny waited.

“Did you talk to him?” Decker asked as he stacked a few weights on the first machine in the circuit.

“Yes. He said he doesn’t have a slot in Phenom, but he’ll ask around,” Violet grunted, transferring from the chair to the seat of the machine.

Destiny smiled brightly at her and fixed the position of Violet’s feet, then playfully patted her knee.

“That’s all I could ask for,” Decker said. “I’ve got you at 250. Give me a 15-rep set and let’s see how you’re doin’ after.”

“Sir, yes sir!” Violet chirped, saluting before she engaged the weights.

It was a good leg session. Violet was able to get up to 450 on the leg press with ten sets, a new personal best since her coma. Destiny and Decker both spotted her on squats, which she also crushed. Destiny helped her on the stepper machine and Violet was able to stand for nearly half an hour on a medium resistance setting, her longest time yet.

From there, Violet moved on to upper body strength training, which she could mostly do herself. She moved to the bench to start presses and Peyton joined her as a spotter.

“Decker and Destiny said you’re killin’ it today, darlin’,” he drawled as she laid down on the bench.

“I’ve been doing pretty good,” Violet giggled, grabbing onto the bar.

“Ya seem different today,” he said, his hands following the bar as she began a set.

“Good different, I hope,” Violet grunted, lifting the bar and weights.

“Oh for sure,” Peyton laughed.

He joined her for the rest of her workout, spotting where needed, and when they were done, they left the gym together. Peyton loaded her wheelchair into the back of his truck, then hopped in the driver’s seat. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, imparting a quick series of kisses to her knuckles before they began their ride home.

“Manny is gonna wreck that guy tonight,” Peyton said as they hit the highway.

“I hope so. I watched Luis with the Muay Thai coach this morning. His ground game has massively improved.”

“Good enough to take out Manny, though?”

“Stranger things have happened,” Violet replied darkly.

“Aww, don’t start with the doom and gloom,” he teased. “Manny is the champ for a reason.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt Manny at all. But you can’t discount how hungry a man like Luis is gonna be. He’s got nothing to lose.”

“Pride goeth before a fall. But pride ain’t one of Manny’s sins. His biggest downfall will be ambition, not pride.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Violet sighed, stretching her legs out.

“Ya did great today, darlin’,” Peyton chortled, grabbing her hand again and planting another kiss to her knuckles.

He didn’t let go and placed her hand on his knee, their fingers intertwined. She grinned at him and they were quiet for a time, weaving through the early rush hour traffic.

“Did Sif seem… I dunno. Off today?” he finally asked.

“What do you mean by ‘off’? She didn’t seem any different to me, but then I hardly saw her at all today.”

“I dunno. She’s normally hard ta read anyway, but she just seemed kinda down.”

Violet sighed. She hadn’t had a chance to talk to Peyton yet about the revelation she’d had about the fae and her spectral passenger.

Passengers, an unfamiliar voice said in her head, correcting the thought. Violet winced internally.

“Pey, there’s something I have to tell you about Sif.”

“Uh-oh. That’s a might ominous,” Peyton quipped. “What about Sif?”

“So you know how—I’m kind of two people? Gersemi and myself?”

“Well, yeah. I guess,” he replied skeptically.

“And you know how Gersemi is from another world, another time?”

“Not really.”

Violet noisily blew out a breath and rubbed at her forehead with her free hand.

“Is it that bad?” he tentatively asked, nervous laughter bubbling in the undertone of his voice.

“No. It isn’t… It isn’t bad. More like—it’s just really sad,” Violet candidly stated.

“Give it ta me straight, darlin’,” Peyton admonished. “Ya don’t need ta keep secrets from me.”

“Okay. So,” Violet started, not sure how exactly to explain the situation.

It was insanity. It wouldn’t make sense to him.

Tell him.

Violet steeled herself.

“Peyton, Gersemi and Sif were engaged,” she gushed. “And they were going to elope but then Loki tricked them into starting Ragnarok and Gersemi was killed by Fenrir.”

He was silent for a few moments and navigated the truck to their exit off the highway. His grip around her hand tightened slightly.

“So—ya wanna be with Sif now? Is that what you’re sayin’?” he quietly asked once they’d turned into the neighborhood.

“No!” Violet replied, much more sharply than she intended, “No,” she added, softly. “They—they lost their shot.”

“Aw hell,” he murmured. “Poor Sif.”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Poor Sif.”

“We gotta do somethin’ nice for her. Ya know, cheer her up,” Peyton suggested.

“I like that idea, Mr. Ashley,” Violet giggled.

“I knew ya would, Miss Jorgensen,” he replied, offering her his best smile.

When they arrived home, they found the house empty. Dezzy was still at the gym working with Manny and the coaches and preparing for the fights that evening. Peyton wanted to take full advantage of the privacy and what precious little alone time they had. Violet found herself in violent agreement.

Afterwards, they showered together and made their way to the arena. Violet went into the small office under the main stage area and realized it was the first time she’d been back there since she’d been attacked. To her surprise, she saw that the desk and chair had been replaced with sleek, functional, bigger new ones. The Elvis clock was still there, ticking away the seconds as loudly as ever.

Violet unpacked her gear and methodically set out the implements and supplies she’d be needing. She agreed to fill in for one of the other gym’s trainers after they had a family emergency. Manny was the headliner, so he wouldn’t need her until all the other fights were over. It was something she often did—while she liked watching the fights, she liked the work more.

“So this is where you hide when the battles rage.”

Violet looked up from arranging her tape, wraps, and sprays. Ragnar leaned on the door jamb, picking at his teeth with what appeared to be a throwing blade. He cast her a cocky grin when he saw he had her attention.

Do not trust a word he says. That man sees you as a steppingstone, nothing more.

“Isn’t the price of abandoning one’s post death?” Violet quipped, slamming the desk drawer closed with an ominous “clang”.

She hadn’t intended to close it so hard—but she was used to it not working. And, she may have been the tiniest bit angry at the intrusion.

“I’m at my post,” Ragnar said, shrugging.

“I am not your charge,” Violet snarled, busying herself with inventorying her big fighter first aid kit.

“How do you know that?” he purred, entering the office.

“Because she’s my charge,” Sif’s voice joined in from behind him.

Violet grinned as the waif waltzed through the door and took up the seat Ragnar had intended to occupy across from Violet at the desk. Undeterred, Ragnar continued into the small space, settling for one of the newly placed overstuffed lounge chairs near the desk.

“I have been ordered to come here and clear the air,” Ragnar candidly declared as both Sif and Violet looked expectantly at him.

“By whom and for what purpose?” Sif retorted.

“By order of the King and Queen of Asgard, as well as the Prince Thor. If it please you, I was threatened with the loss of my position in the Einherjar if I didn’t. Being as I rather enjoy tenure as Odin’s right hand, I will make peace.”

“Those are pretty words,” Sif snarled. “But it would be better if you actually meant any of the bullshit you just spewed. Odin would never forsake you. We all know it.”

“Alas, he has. It would be the worst kind of folly to doubt it,” Ragnar cryptically replied.

“I’ll wait for confirmation from Thor first, thanks,” Violet dismissively stated, turning to look at Sif.

“Where’ve you been all day?”

“We can discuss it later. I was busy and I’m not keen to share details while Odin’s lapdog is present,” Sif said.

“Ladies, please,” Ragnar huffed. “You win. I’m acknowledging it with as much grace and humility as I can muster.”

Sif turned slowly in her seat to regard the warrior.

It’s not Ragnar! Strike him! Strike him now!