Chapter Thirteen

“Walk with me,” Lagertha said as they left Manuel, Taylor, and Gorski at the hotel following dinner.

Violet found no suitable reason to argue and decided that tactful compliance was the best course of action. She followed.

They made their way to a public park nearby and sat on one of the benches. It was dark and the night air was uncomfortably muggy. Sweat dampened Violet’s back and neck and she desperately wanted to go take a shower. A public safety officer patrolled the sidewalk across the park from them, obviously bored but not unpleasantly so.

“I can’t protect you if you’re breaking the rules,” Lagertha sternly stated as they sat down.

“Look,” Violet interjected. “It’s not like I’m the only one in here.”

“The other Valkyries, they came to a consensus?” Lagertha queried.

“Yes, and I agreed with that consensus.”

Lagertha rolled her eyes and sat back on the bench, her arms stretched across the backrest. She regarded the night sky for a moment, her eyes searching but seeing nothing.

“Besides, I’m not beholden to Asgard’s rules am I? I’m Earth’s guardian. Not Asgard’s. But Asgard gets the profit of any Valhallan worthies I bring their way,” Violet said when the silence stretched on too long.

“You must consider the longer-term consequences and ramifications of your actions, Valkyrie.”

“We can’t predict the future,” Violet retorted.

“No, we cannot. But we can make vague assumptions that serve us well to heed,” Lagertha replied. “We are not supposed to interfere. People must make their own choices and live with the consequences of those choices,” Lagertha said, turning to look out the sides of her eyes at Violet.

“Or die with them,” Violet snorted. “They were there to have fun. To enjoy a hobby they share with many peers. That shouldn’t ever be a death sentence.”

Lagertha retracted her arms and folded them in her lap, rounding her shoulders forward.

“It shouldn’t, no. But that is not our business. We just—”

“Swoop in like vultures and divvy up the spoils for Valhalla?” Violet interjected with a smirk.

Lagertha turned to face her and asked, “If you do not believe in Valhalla, in Odin, in Freyja, why serve them at all?”

“Because it was that or die, and I wasn’t done living yet.”

“So who is the one being selfish here, then?” Lagertha countered, arching one white-blond brow.

Violet stared back at her, unable to formulate a response to that. Because the elder Valkyrie was right. It had been a choice purely made out of self-preservation. She could have made the argument that she did it for more noble purposes—to save others, to do good in the world with the new time she’d been given, but she knew the Valkyrie would see through that.

She didn’t want to die and that was it. That was the reason she’d made the choice. The rest was tertiary and irrelevant to the current conversation. She knew it. She knew that Lagertha knew it, too.

“I’m not saying that you shouldn’t ever exercise your power in ways that serve the greater good,” Lagertha continued once she realized Violet had no response. “Just not when it comes to your role as a Valkyrie. When that raven shows up, you obey. It should be as simple as that.”

“There would have been more Einherjar potentially going to Valhalla if I hadn’t intervened. Was that the goal, I wonder? Or is it just the silver lining on a bad situation?” Violet finally managed to reply.

“It is not our place to wonder,” Lagertha gently countered.

A thought occurred to Violet then. With the uptick in violent crimes, in conflicts the world over, who stood to benefit? The Einherjar’s ranks swelled with each one. With each worthy life snuffed from Earth, Asgard gained a new soldier. For what purpose, if not to prepare for a war of its own?

Why, indeed? Gersemi’s voice whispered within the back of her mind.

“Why is Odin recruiting so heavily?” Violet asked aloud, more to herself than anything else.

“He always has. He offers a life of luxury and comfort for occasional services rendered. The Honored are his personal retinue and they haven’t grown in a millennium,” Lagertha answered. “Were he truly preparing for a war, wouldn’t he want to expand his own Kingsguard?”

“Is there a war brewing between Asgard and another realm?”

“There are always conflicts between realms. The Frost Realm, for example. It is always at war with Asgard. We are allied with the fae, but the giants? The elves? Never. Though why anyone would want to live in those desolate, horrid places is beyond me. Let alone fight a war there to keep possession of it,” Lagertha said.

“Does Odin want to claim the Frost Realm for Asgard?” Violet queried, sitting forward on the bench so that her elbows could rest on her knees, her chin cradled in her hands.

“Not to my knowledge. The only ones who want that place are the ones already occupying it. More power to them, they can just stay there,” Lagertha snorted.

“Then why are they locked in a never-ending feud with Odin?”

“Because they like to meddle and have nothing else better to do? And they want dragons. Asgard has dragons. The Frost Realm does not,” Lagertha answered her.

“What good do dragons do the Frost Realm?” Violet asked.

“They breathe fire, for one,” Lagertha chuckled. “Well, the ones in Asgard do anyway. Their hides and bones are nearly indestructible and make good sources for the Asgardian army’s armor and weaponry.”

“You harvest them?” Violet inquired. “I don’t think I could ever think of them as just… Some sort of farm animal.”

That drew a laugh from Lagertha.

“No,” she barked. “We have a deal with them where they occasionally give us scale and claw samples which our research and development teams can harmlessly clone.”

“That’s wild,” Violet replied, her eyes wide.

“Some of the Honored used to use them as mounts, before we started building starships,” Lagertha offered. “They live for thousands of years.”

“Did Ragnar ever ride one?”

Violet didn’t know why she asked it, but the elder Valkyrie seemed unperturbed.

“No,” Lagertha laughed. “He didn’t have the patience to build the trust needed. Kind of a great metaphor for every relationship he’s ever had, in retrospect.”

“Did any of the Valkyries?”

“You mean, do any of the Valkyries?”

Violet’s eyes widened again and she gaped at Lagertha.

“Who has a dragon?!” Violet wailed.

“Gondul. Though hers is a cantankerous creature and isn’t a fire drake. He’s a black magic beast and he’s best avoided,” Lagertha gently warned. “Never approach him by yourself and if he approaches you, find the nearest body of running water, like a river or a creek, and jump in it.”

“Why does it have to be running water?” Violet asked.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“It shields from black magic,” Lagertha bluntly replied. “Don’t ask me how—he’s the only black magic creature or practitioner I’ve ever heard of and I’d like to keep it that way if you don’t mind.”

“What about Loki? Does he do black magic?” Violet found herself querying.

“No. He’s a deity. He has neither need nor want of it,” Lagertha answered. “Best leave dealing with him to Thor and Odin.”

“But it’s me he’s after,” Violet quietly stated.

Lagertha turned toward her and her expression took on a serious composition. Her teal eyes darkened and all traces of the smile that had just graced her lips faded into a sad line.

“Yes. He’s always been after you. No one is ever sure of the reason, but it has always been so,” Lagertha softly said. “Come. It is late and you need your rest for tomorrow’s conference.”

Violet reluctantly followed, happy at least to get out of the humid, hot air. She followed Lagertha back to the hotel in silence, contemplating their conversation until her mind shifted gears and she recalled the discussions at dinner earlier.

Greer had tried to hire her out from under Manuel. That took a lot of guts and Violet respected the brazenness. But she was unreservedly Team Phenom. That’s where her brother and where Peyton were, and that was where she planned to stay.

Lagertha’s room was immediately adjacent to Violet’s and as they entered the hallway, they recognized one of the faces from dinner: The man who had been talking about stem cell research. He was just leaving his room as they exited the elevator.

“Ah, Miss Jorgensen. Miss—I don’t think I caught your name,” he said, extending his hand toward Lagertha in greeting.

“Hladgert,” Lagertha supplied, accepting his hand.

He was quick to let go of her and wiped the hand on his suit jacket before turning his gaze back on Violet. Lagertha’s eyes darted to meet Violet’s. It was an odd gesture.

“I was wondering, Miss Jorgensen, if you’d care to join me for a drink in the hotel lounge?” the man asked, pointedly ignoring the other woman.

“I do apologize, Mr.—um—I’m sorry, I’m terrible with names,” Violet stammered, looking between him and Lagertha with naked trepidation.

“Holler,” the man said, though he didn’t again extend his hand in greeting.

“Mr. Holler,” Violet repeated, “As I was saying. I am unfortunately done for the evening. Maybe some other time?”

“Indeed,” he smoothly replied, then turned back toward his room. “Good evening, ladies.”

They watched him re-enter his room, which Violet noted was four doors down from hers and on the opposite side of the hall. Lagertha clocked his location as well and followed Violet into her room.

“I don’t like him,” Violet whispered once the door was closed and locked.

Lagertha took something out of her suit coat’s inner breast pocket and traced around the door jamb with it. Violet watched as she repeated the motion around the windows and the air vents. She also traced the door that led between their rooms. A fine, glowing line surrounded the frames where she had traced, disappearing when the lines were at last connected.

“What is that?” Violet asked once she’d stowed the little metallic item in her jacket again.

“It’s a field generator. I put extra wards around your room’s entry points,” Lagertha whispered in response. “It will alert me if anyone comes in or goes out of this room.”

“Will it hurt them?” Violet asked, thinking of the hotel staff that may come in to clean in the morning.

“Only if they aren’t you, me, or fully human.”

“So, if that guy is human?”

“Don’t quote me, but I’m not sure he is. You are right to be wary of him. He seems—far too interested and not in the normal ways,” Lagertha said, then lowered her voice to barely audible tones, “I’m not sure you should remain in this room this evening. Come to mine. I have two beds in there anyway.”

“Are you going to ward your own room?” Violet whispered in response.

“It already is, I just hadn’t had a chance to do yours yet. Grab what you need for this evening and the morning and come with me. You’ve a long day tomorrow and that means I do too.”

*****

Violet and Taylor raced each other to the front of the convention center’s auditorium. Lagertha, Manuel, and Gorski followed. Taylor jumped over the second row into the first, narrowly cutting Violet off from the coveted center stage, front row seat.

“Ha!” Taylor laughed, plopping down in the seat and crossing her arms. “Mine!”

Violet giggled and took the seat next to her on the far side, leaving the nearer seat for Manuel. The others caught up, shaking their heads at the childish antics but amused, nonetheless.

“So where’d you and Lags go last night?” Taylor chirped, taking the latte and frappe Manuel handed to her.

She passed the frappe to Violet, who greedily accepted it and chugged a few swallows before replying.

“Just to the park to hang out and people watch,” Violet replied as Lagertha stepped from the second row into the first and occupied the empty seat next to Violet.

“See anyone interesting?” Taylor asked, tucking her day bag under her seat.

“Not really. It was pretty empty. And too hot,” Violet answered.

“You do know that running in the auditorium is strictly prohibited and you should definitely know better,” someone said from behind them.

Violet and Taylor turned in unison to see Greer leering at them in the row behind. Taylor stuck out her tongue and turned her attention to Manuel, who handed her a program for the day’s events.

“You’re just mad because you didn’t think of it,” Violet giggled.

Greer offered her a wide grin and said, “No. I just wasn’t wearing the shoes for it.”

Violet looked down and saw she wore expensive-looking, pointy-toed stilettos of some kind. She wasn’t a shoe girl, so she couldn’t have identified the brand.

“Prada, darling. They’re Prada,” Greer silkily purred as Violet’s eyes shifted away from the shoes.

“Oh,” Violet said, taking another sip of her frappe and turning her attention forward.

“She’s unimpressed,” Taylor said, glancing back at Greer’s shoes. “She’s not big on fashion. But those are lovely! Where’d you pick those up? I thought next season’s weren’t out until next month!”

“I know a girl,” Greer replied with a wink.

“You should introduce us to a girl,” Taylor replied in a kittenish tone.

Violet shifted her attention to the program Manuel handed her and dog-eared the pages of the lectures she wanted to attend. She idly listened as the conference’s first keynote speaker started their speech but she couldn’t bring herself to actively pay attention.

They hadn’t seen Holler at all that morning and it worried Violet. She didn’t like threats she couldn’t see. Her mind wandered and she wondered what Peyton and Desmond were doing. She glanced at her phone to check the time and saw that it was only ten after nine in the morning. They’d be at the gym, in sparring sessions.

She turned to take in the small auditorium, observing those in attendance with her. She recognized a few trainers from some of the Las Vegas gyms. Others were familiar in the sense that they’d been in opposite corners for their fighter’s competitions. The rest were unfamiliar and she turned her eyes back to the presentation, though she absorbed none of it.

After the first three events she sat through, Violet found herself exhausted. Her next lecture of interest wasn’t for a couple hours, and after that would be a banquet recognizing those in the community who had achieved some form of greatness or another. She wasn’t nominated for anything and found herself grateful.

Lagertha followed her back to their rooms and Violet decided a nap was in order. However, when she entered her room, she froze. Her clothes lay scattered about the room in disarray. Her toiletries had been tossed into the bathroom’s tub. Her bedding lay in crumpled heaps around a bared mattress. The evening gown she’d laid out before leaving that morning was gone, as were the shoes Taylor had demanded she pack.

Violet ran over to the door that joined her room with Lagertha’s and knocked frantically. Lagertha was swift in opening it, her eyes worried as they met Violet’s.

“What’s happened?” the elder Valkyrie asked, striding into the room.

“I didn’t leave it like this,” Violet said, gesturing to the mess.

“Someone’s tossed your room,” Lagertha replied after surveying the chaos. "But none of the wards activated."

“And they stole my dress and shoes that I planned to wear for the banquet.”

“Call the police. Now. Don’t touch anything else,” Lagertha urgently commanded, steering Violet toward the door between their rooms.

Violet sat on the end of the bed she’d used the night previous and looked up the non-emergency police number on her phone. She tapped it and as soon as the operator picked up, she relayed what had happened. The dispatcher put her through to an officer and Violet quickly told him what had happened. He agreed to send a unit down and Violet thanked him before hanging up.

“Why would they take the dress? And the shoes?” Lagertha mused aloud.

“Maybe it was just some burglar or a pissed off housekeeper?” Violet offered, trying not to feel too violated.

It wasn’t the first time someone had invaded her privacy like that. It likely wouldn’t be the last, she morosely thought.

“This is no coincidence,” Lagertha murmured, looking out the window. “Loki’s hand is in this.”

“How though? And why?” Violet asked, throwing her hands in the air. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“He’s steering you,” Lagertha quietly said, turning back to look at Violet. “He rarely does anything directly.”

“Steering me toward what? My dress and my shoes are gone, so I can’t go to the banquet. Maybe he’s trying to keep me here?” Violet contemplated aloud.

“Or,” Lagertha replied, “He’s forcing you out into the open. You’ll still have to go—Tay will demand it. It’s a huge PR opportunity. So, you’ll need to go shopping. Where will the likeliest places be that he’ll expect you to go?”

There was a knock on the door in Violet’s room and Lagertha went out the main door of her own room to see who it was. The hotel’s daytime manager stood there, looking extremely worried. She asked to enter Violet’s room to ascertain the damage, with the express promise that she wouldn’t touch anything until the police had arrived. Apparently, they’d called to let the hotel know they were coming.

Lagertha and Violet followed the woman into Violet’s hotel room. The hotel manager, Phoebe, if the small, gold name pin on her suit jacket lapel was correct, entered and surveyed the damage herself, her dark eyes vexed.

“Was anything taken?” Phoebe asked at last, seeking Violet’s gaze with her own.

“Yes. A gown of no small price and some even more expensive shoes,” Violet replied.

“Is that all that’s missing?” Phoebe pressed, checking the door’s locking mechanism, then walking to the window.

“So far as I can tell,” Violet said as the petite, dark-skinned woman examined the window lock.

“Thank you. We will change your room assignment. I apologize for all of this. I can’t imagine how upsetting this must be for you. I would like to suggest an upgrade to a suite by way of apology,” Phoebe offered, the light in her dark eyes earnest.

“Got any with two bedrooms?” Lagertha asked.

“We do, on the thirtieth floor.”

“We’ll take one of those,” Lagertha accepted.

“Very good, ma’am. I’ll bring those room keys up and we’ll deactivate all keys for this one. My apologies again, Ms. Andersen.”

“It’s—Jorgensen. But thank you,” Violet gently corrected.

“Ladies,” Phoebe said, nodding to each in turn before heading out the door.

As Lagertha and Violet turned to go back into Lagertha’s room, Phoebe let the police in, then disappeared behind the swish of the stainless-steel elevator doors across the hall.