Chapter Two

Peyton closed the bedroom door after Violet wheeled herself into the room. She scooted to the front edge of the chair and used the rail next to the head of the bed to briefly pull herself to a standing position.

Already, her legs began to bear her weight better and she heaved an internal sigh of relief.

I’ve never had to deal with a Valkyrie this broken before.

Violet snarled as she pivoted and plopped down on the bed. Were all Valkyries broken on some level, then? The comment hadn’t made any damn sense. Violet wasn’t broken. She’d been savagely attacked and injured, sure. But she wasn’t broken. Her mind was intact. She’d get her legs back in working order. She’d be training again in no time to do whatever…

Whatever it was Odin deigned it necessary to command her to do.

Was that why Gersemi resisted the Queensguard and the Valkyries so vigorously? She didn’t want to be just another drone in the mystical Asgardian army? Another unwitting pawn on yet another god’s chessboard of power?

“Hey,” Peyton’s voice sliced through the cacophony of thoughts running through her head.

He sat next to her and took her nearest hand in his. She watched as he brought it to his lips and feathered kisses across the backs of her knuckles. She sighed again.

“Am I broken?”

He recoiled and stared hard at her before drawling, “No ma’am. Maybe a little battered up at the moment, but ain’t we all?”

That drew a smile and she rested her head on his shoulder. They stayed that way for a few seconds, quietly considering their own thoughts.

“I don’t—I don’t want ya ta leave. I can’t go with ya,” Peyton softly stated. “Thor said I can’t go to Valhalla.”

“We’ve got time. And I won’t be gone long, I don’t think. Thor and Sif said they make trips here all the time,” Violet said in the same tone.

“Trips, sure. But your life is here, Vi. Ya belong here. With Dezzy. With your family. With me,” Peyton said.

Violet sat up so that she could look into his eyes. Pain and fear were written all over his features. The crease of his brow, the downturned corners of his mouth, the set of his blue-green eyes. She reached up to palm his cheek and offered him a soft smile.

“Is that what’s really bothering you?” she asked.

“That, and the fact that with all this newfound power and who knows what other kind of abilities… Ya won’t need me anymore.”

She lightly smacked his chest with the flat of her palm and glared at him.

“How dare you say that,” Violet gently chided. “You saved my life, Peyton. I saw you. It’s because of you I’m even still alive. You saved me. In more ways than one.”

“Yeah, and now ya’ve outgrown me.”

She took his face in both of her hands and forced him to look her in the eyes.

“I chose you. I choose you. I’m going to keep choosing you so long as I’m alive. Since I’m apparently immortal? That’s forever, Peyton.”

That statement finally seemed to get through. A slight smile tugged up one corner of his mouth and he took her face in his hands, the way she still held his. He drew closer, his eyes slipping down to glance at her lips before returning to her eyes.

“Immortal, huh?” he quipped.

“That’s the rumor,” she retorted, leaning even closer.

“May I?” Peyton whispered, his lips brushing her cheek.

“Please,” Violet said, just as softly.

His lips gently met hers, a soft, exploratory exchange that set every nerve ending in her body singing. She gasped when his teeth caught her bottom lip and tugged, a playful movement that sent quiet laughter rumbling in her throat in its wake.

“How thin are these walls?” Peyton asked as she fell backward on the bed, dragging him with her by his shirt collar.

“They can plug their ears,” Violet snarled. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes ma’am,” he drawled on a whisper, setting his mouth ardently against hers.

*****

“No—if you fold it in too soon, you’re gonna drop faster than a clipped pegasus,” Sif said. “Wait. You’re getting excited and trying to turn too early.”

Violet nodded and flapped hard to regain altitude, Sif hot on her heels. They flew up into the cloudbank to get reprieve from the early evening sun. Sif pulled out a canteen of water from her little magical fanny pack and held it between her palms for a few seconds. Frost formed on the outside and she handed it to Violet, who drank heartily. When done, Violet handed it back and Sif stowed it.

“I’m impressed, really. Now that you’re getting your memories back and your abilities are manifesting, training will be so much easier,” Sif said, motioning for Violet to follow.

Violet leaned backwards and folded her wings, gracefully executing a backwards dive after the frost fairy rocketed away. Violet’s wings expanded to their full span, cupping at the air, and she abruptly slowed. She lazily hovered after Sif as they made their way back toward a rocky outcrop.

Violet loved flying lessons. It was the first time in a long time that something just came naturally to her and didn’t fight her every step of the way. She was free when she was in the sky. Indomitable. Strong. Even though she’d only fledged a week prior, she was starting to edge out Sif in the aerial acrobatics. Still, she listened to the sprite and hung on every word Sif said about flying. She knew she’d be a fool for ignoring the far more experienced flyer.

They landed on a cliff overlooking the canyon where Violet first fledged. Peyton and Dezzy waited for them. They sat in the back of Dezzy’s truck and watched the two flyers from a couple fold out camp chairs they’d set up in the truck bed. Both of them sipped on beers as though the training Sif put Violet through was some sort of spectacle. Violet laughed internally at the sight.

“I don’t think I’ll ever quite get over that,” Peyton drawled as he walked up to where they landed.

“What?” Violet breathlessly asked, extinguishing her wings with a single thought.

She stood shakily before him, eyeing the wheelchair with evident disdain before turning her gaze back to Peyton. He pointed at her shoulders. Dezzy joined them, grinning widely.

“Oh the wings?” Violet queried on a laugh.

“Yeah. Ya look like an angel,” Peyton replied, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her abruptly to him.

She was thankful for the support. Though she’d been working hard at getting her strength and coordination back in her legs, Violet couldn’t stand for long periods and could only go maybe a dozen steps before her knees buckled.

“It does look like a lot of fun,” Dezzy wistfully stated, casting his eyes skyward.

“I could take you up some time,” Sif offered.

They all turned to gawk at the frost fae. It was highly out of character for the cantankerous little sprite to offer anything but condescension to the men. She’d been increasingly sweeter to Violet since Violet had fledged. But she still obviously hated the men.

“For real?” Dezzy excitedly asked, his dark green eyes brightening.

“Not tonight, but maybe tomorrow—before I get into the weeds with training this one,” Sif nonchalantly replied, indicating Violet with the quick flick of her hand.

“You’re on,” Dezzy said, holding up his fist.

Sif bumped it with hers and turned to regard Violet once more. She studied the newly fledged Valkyrie, her eyes taking on a worried light as she looked at her legs.

“It’s only been a week,” Violet answered the discontent that took the fairy’s visage. “I’m already ahead of schedule with recovery.”

Sif nodded once and quipped, “Well. I have to get back to Thor. Apparently we’re going to dinner at Manny and Tay’s tonight.”

And without another word, noise, or warning, the frost fairy disappeared.

“I hate it when she does that,” Dezzy grumbled, jerking his head toward the waiting truck. “Let’s get food. I’m starving.”

*****

Violet was quiet on the way home, running through the next day’s schedule in her head. Manny had a title defense fight in a week. Gorski had a highly publicized rivalry matchup the week after Manny’s. Tay wanted her to go dress shopping in a couple days for the upcoming wedding. And she needed to check in with her parents and sister at some point, before they sent the cavalry looking for her and Dezzy.

On top of that, she had her own strict physical therapy schedule to which she had to adhere and Manny and Peyton primarily assisted her with it. Even some of the guys and gals from the other gyms pitched in, Marty Decker from Intimidation Factor and his girlfriend Destiny, the ring girl, happily obliged most times.

Violet had broached the subject of acquiring Decker at welterweight for an alternate on Phenom with Manny, but the gym owner had danced around the subject. Decker said he understood, but Violet wasn’t ready to give up yet.

She made a promise. She kept her promises.

“Ya really do look like an angel when ya come down out of that sky,” Peyton murmured, turning in his seat to look back at her.

She sat in the passenger side back seat while the two men occupied the front. It was easier for her to get in the back and she knew how Peyton and Dezzy loved to banter. She held her arm out the window, scooping at the air with her hand as they drove.

“I don’t know about that,” Violet nervously chuckled, drawing her arm back in and closing the window.

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“I’m so freakin’ jealous,” Dezzy said, turning to look over his shoulder at her briefly. “Is it as easy as it looks?”

“It’s—different. But Sif says I’m a natural at it, so I guess that helps. Never thought my shoulders would be so important,” Violet candidly replied, absently rubbing at her sore right shoulder blade.

“You’re already doing stunts. Thor said that usually takes a few weeks before most Valkyries start the acrobatics,” Dezzy relayed.

Her little brothers appeared to be fast friends and it always struck her how similar their demeanors were. They liked to gang up on her in their daily sibling scraps. It wasn’t fair, if she was honest with herself. But she didn’t really mind—it was nice to have family around her.

“It kinda happened by accident. Because, according to Sif, I’m a dumbass. But she seems happy enough with our progress,” Violet said. “I like the happy version of her.”

“She’s a might more pleasant now,” Peyton laughed.

“Yeah. She isn’t such a sullen bitch,” Dezzy agreed.

Darkness. A steady drizzle fell that made everything unnaturally shiny and wet looking. A quiet, currently abandoned street stretched before her. It looked unfamiliar; some sort of residential area with sporadic lighting from streetlights that dotted the sides of the road at irregular intervals. A few cars were parked on the street. Older cars. Nothing appeared newer than twenty years old.

A cat raced across the pavement and stopped in the middle of the street. It turned and looked directly at her, then bolted for the shadows.

Sharp, devastating pain blossomed high in her back, between her ribs on the left side of her body. She cried out in pain and found herself pushed violently forward.

“Die, you uppity bitch,” filled her ears in a harsh whisper.

She couldn’t breathe and scrambled futilely to grab at the pain in her back. Black motorcycle boots appeared in her vision as she fell face first to the pavement. Thick fluid filled her lungs and she couldn’t breathe. She watched the boots walk away, revealing a tall, lean figure dressed in all black, a hood pulled over their head.

They held a black blade in one gloved hand that dripped crimson as the figure moved away. The figure wiped the blade with a cloth in their other hand and stowed the knife in a sheath on their belt.

“Vi? Hey! Hey! You’re okay,” Peyton called, his hand pressed to her chest and gently pushed her back in the seat.

“What happened?” Dezzy asked, worriedly looking over his shoulder.

Cold sweat beaded on her forehead and slipped down her back in chill-inducing rivulets. She leaned forward as Peyton’s hand retreated and held her head between her knees. Nausea rolled over her, unsettled her stomach, and left her weak and shaking.

“Flashback,” Violet choked, then took a deep recovery breath.

“Bad one?” Dezzy queried.

“Yeah,” Violet sighed and straightened, wiping her palms on her knees.

She’d been having the flashbacks more regularly the past couple days, though she didn’t tell Peyton or Dezzy the details. She worried that it would upset them; what could they even do if she did tell them? She started counting them a few days ago when she noticed the uptick in frequency. The one she just had was the third one that day.

The flashbacks all seemed to fit into one of two categories. The first and more obvious kind were memories from her time as Gersemi. They looked and felt like the memories she’d accessed in Gersemi’s diary in Valhalla. Those were infrequent—she’d only had a handful.

The second kind were like mini snuff films. Always surprise attacks. Always resulting in a person’s demise. That last one though? It had a crucial detail that hadn’t been in any of the other flashbacks she’d endured since she’d finally fledged.

The soulblade. The person who killed her in that last flashback had definitely used the soulblade.

“Have ya talked ta Thor or Sif about them at all?” Peyton quietly asked, his eyes full of worry.

“Yeah. They said it’s normal for the first year or so,” Violet replied, matching his tone.

“So what are they then?” Dezzy snorted. “Memories of past lives?”

“Something like that,” Violet wearily answered. “It’s—hard to explain.”

“That’s so weird,” Dezzy mused with a sour grimace as he navigated the truck onto the interstate on-ramp and head back toward the city.

“Tell me about it,” scoffed Violet, who leaned against the window and was thankful for the press of cool glass against her flushed cheek.

She listened idly as Peyton and Dezzy talked about gym politics, upcoming matchups, and their training. Her shoulders ached from the strain of her flight training with Sif. Her legs were sore from the physical training session Decker put her through earlier that morning. She was tired, hungry, and in desperate need of a long soak in hot Epsom salt water.

“Hey darlin’,” Peyton quietly said near her ear.

Violet started, realizing she’d fallen asleep. She groggily sat up, then groaned when she tried to move her legs.

“I’ll get the chair,” Peyton declared, kissing her sweetly on her forehead.

She waited while he fetched the chair out of the back and set it up outside her door. He helped her hobble into it and she sat down heavily, huffing in exhaustion.

“Maybe you should take a rest day tomorrow,” Dezzy suggested as they moved toward the house together.

“I’ll be fine,” Violet replied. “Just need to toughen up.”

“Don’t make me call Thor,” Dezzy admonished.

He was only half-joking and she knew it. Violet mock-glared at him and continued pushing herself toward the house. She made a beeline for the bathroom, dumped a copious amount of Epsom salt and bubble bath soap into the tub, then commenced drawing the water.

She undressed quickly and as she shakily stood to prepare to lower herself into the foamy, slightly-too-hot water, she caught a glimpse of her shoulders in the mirror. She gasped and stood straighter, craning her neck to look at her back’s reflection better.

Iridescent shades of purple and green adorned her skin in a flowing, pretty pattern of wispy feathers. It started just between the tops of her shoulder blades. The design cascaded down her back and she noticed as she turned that the colors shifted and shimmered when she moved.

Why hadn’t she noticed that before? Why hadn’t Peyton said anything?

She admired the strange, winged tattoo for a brief period before deciding it wasn’t anything super important and didn’t bear further investigation at the moment. What she really wanted, no, needed, was the soothing relief of the water and to rid herself of the stench she knew radiated from her. She’d been sweating in some capacity or another all day and felt absolutely gross.

Violet gingerly lowered herself into the water and refused to stifle the gratuitously satisfied groan that escaped her lips. The hot water sloshed against her skin in the wake of her unsteady movements and she watched, momentarily mesmerized, as the bubbles lapped at the sides of the tub. A few splashed over the rim, but she couldn’t be bothered to care too much about it then.

She slowly laid back and scooched down in the tub so that the water reached her neck once it no longer threatened to slosh over onto the floor. Violet closed her eyes and took a deep breath, reveling in the hot water and its effects on her poor battered body.

“You can’t hide from me, bitch!”

The world whirred by in a blur of dark green. A narrow, winding, packed dirt path lay before her. Unfortunately, it was riddled with the roots of the trees that lined the path at close intervals. Her toe caught one such root and sent her careening gracelessly to the ground.

As she scrambled to get back to her feet, she caught a shin to the ribs. Her breath wheezed out of her throat and she instinctively curled up, cradling the damaged side. Another vicious kick found purchase against her back, causing her to cry out and spasm in pain.

Someone yanked her arm and threw her onto her back. Knees dropped onto her elbows, holding her arms spread wide. She wriggled and squirmed, screaming for help. Her voice echoed shrilly in the darkness, muffled by the trees such that outsiders would not hear her desperate cries.

A masked face lowered close to hers. Fetid breath stung in her nose as her attacker met her eyes. Dark eyes. Familiar eyes framed in a familiar black ski mask. She watched, helpless, as he raised both gloved hands. The black blade protruded from where he gripped the handle in both hands.

She screamed as the knife plunged down and into her chest, clean up to the hilt. Her scream abruptly silenced and she watched with rapidly fading vision as the man twisted the blade savagely, inhuman laughter bubbling in his throat as he did.

Violet coughed and sputtered and thrashed, finally managing to grip the edge of the tub and pull her head out from under the water. She gasped ragged breaths as she succeeded and stared wildly around her. She swiped at her eyes, which burned from the salt and suds, then turned the water on to rinse her face.

Someone knocked on the door and Peyton’s voice called out, “Vi? Ya okay?”

“Yeah,” Violet croaked loudly. “I’m okay.”

“Ya playin’ splash pad in there or what?” he asked through the door.

“Just slipped is all. I’m fine, though. Be out soon,” she replied, cutting the water and sitting back against the back rest of the tub.

“Alright, darlin’. Thor and Sif are comin’ over for dinner. They’ll be here soon, but take your time.”

“Okay,” Violet sighed, working to slow her heart and regulate her breathing. “Thank you, Pey.”

“Ya sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah,” she wearily replied. “I’ll be out in a few.”

He didn’t continue to press. She reached up and grabbed her razor and quickly finished her normal hygiene routine before slowly dragging herself to the edge of the tub. She brusquely toweled herself dry, wrapped herself, and wheeled her way back into the bedroom.

When she finally emerged, Thor and Dezzy fought against each other on some virtual reality fighting game in the living room. Sif sat at the kitchen island, her legs dangling freely as she read something on a tablet before her. Peyton stood at the stove, stirring something in a large pot.

“There she is,” Peyton chortled when he saw that she’d wheeled herself into the kitchen.

“So, the boys tell me you’ve been having more frequent flashbacks,” Sif started as soon as Violet snagged a cold bottle of water from the fridge.

Violet took a few big swigs before wheeling herself over to the kitchen’s island. Sif looked down at her, her sapphire eyes attentively appraising Violet’s condition.

“Now hang on a minute there,” Peyton growled from the stove, pointing the spoon he held at her. “I ain’t been a boy in years.”

“I existed before human calendars even started,” Sif deadpanned.

“Fair enough, but I still ain’t a boy,” Peyton retorted.

Sif rolled her eyes and turned back to Violet, who struggled to pull herself up and maneuvered onto one of the bar stools near Sif at the island. She finally managed to seat herself and she turned to regard Sif once more.

“What are you seeing in these visions?” Sif pressed.

“Death,” Violet answered quietly, but simply.

“I’m going to require a bit more detail than that,” snorted Sif as she turned more fully to face Violet.

Violet took another gulp of water, wincing as the cold burned down her throat. She’d had the bathwater too hot and her empty stomach clenched uncomfortably as the ice-cold drink settled.

“I watch through other people’s eyes as they get assassinated,” Violet finally said, meeting the frost fae’s eyes fully.

“Tell me about the most recent one,” Sif gently but firmly commanded, reaching to turn off her tablet.

“I was running. It was a dark night, on some sort of dirt trail or path that was lined with trees. I tripped on a root and some guy dressed in all black and a ski mask kicked me in the ribs, then in the back, then pinned down my arms with his knees and rammed a soulblade into my chest. And I died.”

Peyton dropped the spoon into the pan and cursed as he scrambled to fish it out with another spoon.

“Jesus Christ, Vi! Is that what ya see every time ya zone out on us?” he asked, finally retrieving the spoon and tossing it into the sink.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Violet candidly replied, avoiding his gaze.

Violet took another sip of water, uncomfortable with the intensity in Sif’s eyes as the fae continued to study Violet.

“Have you seen any other memories that feel like they’re from Gersemi’s perspective?” Sif continued, ignoring Peyton’s evident concern.

“Not in a couple days,” Violet relayed. “But I’ve had a total of four assassinations so far today; two within the last hour or so.”

“What did you see in the one before the most recent? The second most recent one?”

“I was on a street, late at night it felt like. The cars were all old. A cat ran across the road and stopped in the center then looked at me. It ran—and somebody said ‘Die, you uppity bitch’ and stabbed me high in the back. They walked away and it was the first time I saw the weapon they used. It was a soulblade. And then I died.”

Peyton set the spoon down and stared at Violet, worry etching his features. Violet avoided his gaze and took another drink of water, wincing less as it made its way down her esophagus. Sif drummed the fingers of one hand on her lips, apparently deep in thought as she considered Violet’s words.

“When did you have the most recent one?” Peyton asked Violet, moving to stand beside her.

“When you heard all the splashing,” Violet softly answered him, looking down at her clasped hands on the countertop.

He sighed and pulled a stool over to sit next to her. She didn’t look up until he gently cupped her face in his palm and lifted her chin.

“Ya coulda drowned, darlin’,” he murmured when their eyes met, his thumb caressing her jawline.

“But I didn’t,” Violet said, losing herself for a moment in the vibrant teal hue of his gaze. “I can’t stop my life just because some crazy town hallucinations happen in my head.”

“What’s triggering the visions?” Sif asked, drawing their attention once more and shattering the moment between them.

“I don’t fucking know,” Violet exasperatedly answered, throwing her hands up. “They just… Hit me out of nowhere. I haven’t noticed a pattern yet.”

“Are there cats in all of the visions?”

“No.”

“Are there similarities between any of them?”

“Yes.”

“What are the similarities?”

Violet huffed an irritated sigh and threw up her hands again, saying, “It’s almost always dark, I’m alone, and it’s usually a surprise attack.”

“An assassin of some sort, then,” Sif mused. “The last couple had a soulblade? You saw it?”

“It definitely looked like one. The last two at least, the attacker called me a bitch before I died.”

Peyton sighed in disapproval next to her and she reached over to grasp his hand. She squeezed reassuringly and offered him a smile. He didn’t return the smile, but he did kiss her forehead before returning to the stove to stir whatever was in the pot. Violet and Sif watched him for a few silent moments before Sif spoke again.

“Was it the same attacker each time?”

Violet shrugged, saying, “I don’t know. He hits me so hard and so fast, I’m reeling by the time he ends me. Could be the same person or it might not be. Hard to tell.”

“Who’s hitting you?” Dezzy asked, joining them as he set down his VR helmet.

Thor whooped from the living room and started punching at the air like a madman. They pointedly ignored the ruckus he made.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Violet dryly asked. “The big ol’ whodunnit.”