Chapter Fourteen

Sif stalked over to one of the sectional sofas and unceremoniously sat down, crossing her slender arms over her chest. She watched the still playing video of car crash compilations and pointedly ignored Violet and Thor.

Thor’s face fell when he saw Violet. His eyes scanned the wheelchair and stopped on her legs. He met her gaze. Worry and sympathy crossed his features. She realized then that he’d been operating under the assumption that Violet would have greater mobility. She wouldn’t be able to do as much as they needed her to and the realization stung her further.

She was broken and useless. Dead weight.

“This is our team athletic trainer, Violet,” Manny was saying, which drew Violet’s attention.

Thor held out his hand and she took it, offering him a smile.

“Pleasure to meet you, Violet,” Thor said with a wink.

“Likewise—Thor is it?” Violet replied.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, grinning.

“Well, the food is over here and then we were gonna watch some fights on pay-per-view,” Manny said, ushering Thor toward the dining room.

Sif popped up from the couch and made her way into the dining room with them. Violet watched them go, catching the worried glance Thor gave her over his shoulder as they departed. Even Sif seemed to pity her, casting her a quick look of… Was it fear or was it worry?

She could almost hear the fae’s thoughts.

How are we going to achieve anything when you can’t even walk… Spoiled little brat is now a useless spoiled little brat…

“So, whatcha think of the prospect?” Peyton asked next to her ear, startling her.

“He definitely looks like he can do some damage,” Violet said, turning to look at Peyton.

Peyton smoothed the backs of his knuckles across her cheek and smiled sweetly. He stared into her eyes, as if trying to decide something. Trying to read her thoughts.

“We don’t have ta stay and watch the fights. We can go somewhere else if ya want,” he quietly said.

Violet snorted and turned her head away, looking out the big picture window across the room.

“There aren’t too many places that are wheelchair accessible around here,” Violet softly stated, glaring balefully at the gently swaying palm trees that lined the walk up to Dezzy’s place.

Peyton sighed and grabbed the bean bag, plopping it down next to her chair. He reached across the table and grabbed his plate.

“So we’re just gonna have ta figure out where those places are,” he murmured, loading up his fork with a bite of the lasagna she’d made.

“Why would you want to be seen with me? Champion fighter with a cripple girlfriend? That doesn’t track,” Violet snapped, instantly regretting the venom that found its way into her tone.

Peyton chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then turned to look at her.

“If you’re gonna be mad at someone Vi, it’s only fair that ya be mad at me.”

Violet reached to press her palm to his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she softly said. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“But I did,” he whispered, covering her hand with his. “It’s my fault this happened ta ya.”

Violet vehemently shook her head, saying, “No, Peyton. It isn’t. I don’t think Intimidation did this and it was never about you changing camps.”

He studied her, trying to decide if he believed her or if she was just being noble and saving him from the guilt that had hounded him since he’d found her that day. His mind flashed back to the sight of her lifeless, bleeding body on the floor. He swallowed hard.

“What do ya remember?” he quietly asked.

Violet gently withdrew her hand and decided to try and eat. She pulled her plate toward her and took a forkful of lasagna. She chewed slowly and carefully, watching as he mimicked her. Behind them, in the dining area, the group laughed. The clink and clatter of forks on plates, drinks being poured, and friendly banter reached her ears, but she refused to turn toward it.

She didn’t want their pity. She didn’t want their empty optimism. She had a job to do and none of this seemed to serve that mission. It made her anxious and agitated, and she was taking it out on Peyton.

“I can’t—talk about it here,” Violet whispered. “Besides, if I did tell you—you’d think it was more than my spine that was irreversibly damaged.”

Peyton chuckled, “Your spine isn’t irreversibly damaged and you’re not crazy, Vi.”

She drew in a deep breath and noisily exhaled.

“I’m not—you’re just going to think I am,” she cryptically said.

He grinned and snared her shoulders with his arm. He planted a quick kiss to her temple, then returned to eating. They finished dinner in comfortable silence, joined afterwards by the rest of the rowdy crew. But Violet wasn’t in the mood or mindset to entertain and the way everyone’s eyes saddened as they looked at her grated on her nerves.

“Let’s get out of here,” Peyton whispered as Dezzy dimmed the lights and Manny logged into the streaming service on Dezzy’s smart TV.

“Please,” Violet consented through ground teeth.

“Hey! Where do ya think you’re goin’?” Taylor cried when Violet began wheeling herself toward the front door.

Peyton snatched his keys off the kitchen counter and followed her.

“Vi needs some air,” he said, smiling at the group. “We’ll be back in a bit. Save me a couple beers, would ya?”

Violet didn’t wait to hear their responses, desperate to get out of that room. It was stifling. She knew they were trying to include her, trying to be good friends, trying to be good people…

But she’d never been one to accept charity and she hated them for looking at her like she was some pitiable, broken creature.

She was a Valkyrie. She was a warrior. She was a goddess.

Just… Not in this realm.

Yet.

Peyton followed as Violet wheeled herself towards his truck in the parking lot. She glared at her own car, the emblem of a freedom she no longer had, which sat under one of the car ports. It was covered in dust and looked just about as sad as she did.

“We’ll get it outfitted so that ya can drive again,” Peyton said. “Elaina and Dezzy already have a plan.”

Violet turned away from her car and wheeled herself after Peyton the rest of the way to his truck. He knelt in front of her and opened his arms. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing him to lift and transfer her to the seat in his truck. He tugged her legs in and stayed there, so close that she could smell the scent of his body wash on his skin. He watched her eyes, still assessing her, still trying to get a read on her thoughts, on her emotions.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” he murmured.

“For saving me,” she softly replied, curling her fingers in the collar of his shirt.

She gently tugged him closer and his lips eagerly met hers. He pulled away a brief moment later and cupped her face in his hands.

“We will get through this and ya will walk again,” he said. “I know it, Vi.”

“I know. C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

He kissed her once more, then closed the door. He collapsed the wheelchair and stowed it in the back. She buckled her seatbelt as he jogged around the back of the truck and hopped in next to her.

“Where we goin’?” he asked as he sat in the driver’s seat and engaged the ignition.

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The truck engine came to life, notably quieter than the last time she’d heard it.

“You got the muffler fixed,” she chuckled.

He beamed and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips. He feathered kisses across her knuckles before allowing her to withdraw.

“Ya remembered,” he laughingly replied, putting the truck into gear and driving out of the space. “So, we can go ta that park where we had our second date or we can—”

“The park is fine. I just… I just want to get out of here. I can’t take how they look at me,” Violet gently interrupted.

“They feel bad, Vi. They hate seeing you hurt,” Peyton said. “Manny especially. Blames himself.”

“He should,” Violet darkly stated, looking out the window and watching as the neighborhood scrolled by.

“Whatcha mean?” Peyton asked, quirking one eyebrow quizzically.

“The man who attacked me? He told me to tell Manny hello for him,” she quietly answered.

Peyton’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles flashing white with the action. His jaw tensed and a foreign hardness entered his eyes.

“Who attacked ya, Vi?” he asked after a moment.

“He was in a ski mask. I didn’t recognize his voice. All I know is he had dark eyes.”

“But he specifically said Manny?”

“Yes,” Violet whispered.

“What did… What did he do ta ya?”

Violet reached over and grabbed his hand, dragging it to rest on her knee. It was still so strange that she couldn’t feel it. It made her angry. Made her want to break things and scream. Pain would have been better than the abysmal lack of feeling. She could see herself touching her leg but the disconnect…

She desperately wanted to be able to feel her legs again. To walk again. To not be so obviously weak.

“It all happened so fast. I just invited Dezzy over and the next thing I knew I…” she trailed off, suddenly unsure of what to say.

Would he believe her? Would he say that she was just delirious from being attacked? That everything that had happened while she was unconscious was just a dream?

But it wasn’t a dream. Sif and Thor were there. He’d met them.

“Tell me, Vi,” Peyton softly commanded. “Tell me what happened.”

“You’re going to think I’m absolutely crazy. I’m not crazy. I can prove it. But it’s so—”

“I’m not gonna think you’re crazy,” he chuckled.

Violet looked over at him. He drew their clasped hands to his lips, planting a kiss to the back of her hand.

“Tell me what happened,” he softly said.

“When we get to the park. You’re probably going to want to sit down and not be driving a two-ton death machine when I do.”

He laughed at that, bringing her hand to his lips again, “Sounds wild.”

“Your wildest theories won’t come close to the truth,” she quietly replied.

“Well now I can’t wait ta hear what you’re gonna say!”

“When is the title match?” Violet asked, derailing the current conversation’s track.

“In four months,” Peyton said. “I still trained while you were… Out. Dezzy wouldn’t let me stop. We both knew ya’d come back ta us. Dezzy’s first title defense is in three months.”

“My good boys,” Violet chuckled. “I can always count on you. Did Mathias and Adams win?”

“Mathias won by knockout in the second round. Adams lost in a split decision. Heartbreaker of a fight, but neither guy had any reason ta be ashamed of their performances. They went all three rounds in an epic ground and pound slugfest,” Peyton replied, smiling broadly.

“Those are the breaks, sometimes,” Violet said.

They arrived at the park a few minutes later and Violet waited while Peyton lugged the heavy, unwieldy bulk of her wheelchair out of the back. She watched as he set it up and positioned it outside her door. She clung to him as he lifted her down from the truck and gently set her in the chair.

He walked beside her, a dense, large blanket draped over his arm as she pushed herself toward one of the empty picnic tables at the far end of the park. It was secluded, quiet, and the evening was blessedly cool. A breeze pushed through the trees, setting the leaves to whispering conspiratorially as they walked.

Violet watched as Peyton spread the blanket out on the grass at the top of the knoll near the picnic table. He motioned for her to come over and she obliged, struggling to get the chair through the grass. To Peyton’s credit, he let her do it on her own. She loved that about him; he didn’t coddle her.

“Do ya wanna stay in your seat or would ya like ta join me on the blanket?” he asked as he finished with the blanket.

“When is your next arm day?” Violet countered.

“Arm day is every day, darlin’,” he flirtatiously replied.

“I’ll join you, but don’t put your back out,” Violet giggled, holding up her arms.

He gently lifted her from the chair and deposited her at the center of the blanket. He sat in front of her and took both her hands in his.

“Now, no more stallin’. Tell me everything,” he quietly demanded.

“The guy who attacked me was waiting in my apartment when I got home that night. He jumped me—stabbed me in the back with this odd black hunting knife. I don’t know if he hit me or what but I saw… A woman. She gave me a choice.”

“A woman? So there were two people who attacked you?”

“No, no, no,” Violet said, shaking her head. “She was—in my head, kind of. But also there. It was strange and didn’t make any sense at the time. She told me I could come with her and live or stay where I was and die.”

“Not great soundin’ choices but I’m glad ya chose ta live,” Peyton quipped.

“The choice came with an offer, with the acceptance of a certain responsibility,” Violet quietly continued.

“What responsibility?”

“I had to agree to become a Valkyrie.”

Peyton stared at her. She watched as he digested that information and saw him begin to question his resolve with regard to her sanity.

“I’m not—I’m not crazy, Peyton. She was real. Her name is Gondul but she’s also Freyja, the queen goddess of Valhalla.”

Peyton stood up then, rubbing at the back of his neck as he regarded her with wide eyes. Her resolve faltered and she looked away from him.

“That’s, um,” he started, “You’re sure about that?”

“I was in training myself. Thurman? He’s actually Thor—like, the Thor. He has Mjolnir and everything,” Violet continued without looking at him. “I trained with Gondul, the queen of the Valkyries. Sif is my royal bodyguard.”

Peyton paced nervously, avoiding looking at her as well, though still listening.

“Peyton, I’m not making this up,” Violet pleaded. “I was in Valhalla. Apparently I’m… The human incarnation of Gersemi, Freyja and Odin’s daughter. But I can’t fledge until I get the rest of my soul back and that’s why I came back. Sif and Thor are on the same mission.”

“I’m tryin’ really hard ta believe ya Vi,” Peyton softly said, returning to sitting in front of her on the blanket.

“But you don’t,” Violet whispered.

“You’re talking about gods and goddesses and secret missions for them, Vi,” Peyton replied, trying to keep the incredulousness out of his tone.

“Not for them. For me,” Violet said. “So I can walk again. So I can be a fully fledged Valkyrie. So I can stay here, eventually, and be with you.”

“What kind of mission is it?”

“Find out who tried to kill me, steal the knife they used, and go back to Asgard with it. Then Freyja can work whatever mojo and I’ll fledge,” Violet answered.

“You’ll… Fledge?”

“Get my Valkyrie wings, get my memories back, get access to my full potential,” Violet said.

He took her hands in his and stared hard at her. She stared back.

“I’m gonna need just a little bit of proof, darlin’,” he tentatively said after several tense, silent moments.

Violet shrugged and said, “Of course. And I have it.”

“What’s your proof?”

“Thor and Sif.”

“You’ve only just met them—”

“Oho no. We go waaaaaay back,” Violet interjected. “Like—thousands of years back.”

Peyton gave an incredulous bark of laughter and stared at her again. He didn’t let go of her hands though, so that was a good sign, she thought.

“Go grab a couple sticks. Sturdy. About shortsword length,” Violet said then.

“What for?” Peyton asked.

“Have you ever seen me fight?”

He studied her. He hadn’t ever seen her fight, but he knew she at least had the basics of sparring down. She had to. She was a trainer. But he’d never seen her in the ring. Humoring her, he stood and looked around.

A broken limb lay under one of the larger trees in the park nearby and he jogged over to it. Violet watched as he broke off a couple of the thicker branches. He brought them back to the blanket where she still sat.

“Help me to my chair, please?” she asked, holding up her arms.

Once more, Peyton obliged, gently settling her into the wheelchair.

“Hand me one of those sticks and you keep one for yourself.”

He did as she bade, and assumed what he thought was a sword stance. She corrected his posture then squared off in front of him.

“Try to strike me,” she quietly said.

“I can’t—”

“You wanted proof and I’m giving it to you. Have you ever seen me hold a sword, let alone fight with one?”

“No,” Peyton replied. “But I don’t wanna hurt ya, Vi.”

“You should be more worried about yourself. Strike,” she commanded.

He sighed, “Vi, this is silly.”

“I’m being deathly serious right now, Peyton. My life is quite literally on the line.”

That seemed to spark something in him and he finally relented. He attempted to strike at her left arm. She batted the strike away, quick as lightning. He stopped and stared at her, then attempted a combination jab, aiming first for her left leg then sweeping toward her right arm. She parried both attempts with expert precision and gentle force.

He went for her head, emboldened, and she batted his makeshift sword away, unperturbed. He tried again and again, changing levels and speed, always aware that she was at an extreme disadvantage without her legs.

He tried to deliver another combination but she met every blow and then, to his surprise, she made a deft, spiraling type of flick with her wrist and sent his makeshift sword sailing. She deftly caught it and assumed a dual-wielding stance as best she could without the use of her legs.

“Ya couldn’t do that before?” Peyton asked as she tossed the two sticks to the ground.

He was thoroughly impressed.

“No. I’d never even picked up a sword,” she candidly replied.

“That still doesn’t prove that you’re a… Valkyrie,” he countered, stumbling on the last word, its foreignness uncomfortable on his tongue.

“I’m not. Yet,” Violet said, looking ruefully away. “Which is why we have to find who did this to me.”

“So—while you were in a coma, you were—what? Trainin’? How?”

“Gondul, the queen Valkyrie. She took me away. To Asgard. I saw Tommy,” Violet replied.

“Tommy was there?” Peyton asked, brows shooting up in surprise, his voice barely a whisper.

“Yes but—he became one of Odin’s warriors. They don’t remember anything of their lives before.”

“So he didn’t even remember ya?”

“No,” Violet softly replied, looking down at her hands clasped in her lap. “He didn’t.”

“That must have been…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, his eyes traveling skyward. She saw worry flicker across his face.

“Honestly? I’m happy for him. He always wanted to be part of something bigger than himself and he found it, in the after. I loved him but—we had our time.”

Peyton turned to her and she realized that his eyes filled with tears.

“What’s wrong?” Violet asked, wanting to reach for him but impeded by the distance and her inability to move the way she needed to.

He moved to kneel beside her chair and took one of her hands in both of his.

“Ya had the chance ta be with him again and ya… Chose me.”

It wasn’t entirely correct, but as she thought about it, she realized that had she been given the choice between Tommy and Peyton again? She would choose Peyton. She loved Tommy. Loved him enough to marry him and attempt to bear his child.

But what she felt for Peyton was different. Deeper. She didn’t know how to explain it. What she felt for Peyton had potential to be timeless. Boundless. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. And she’d been fighting so hard to get back to him.

He shifted then, leaning closer to her. He lifted his hand to cup her chin and look into her eyes.

“I’m so glad ta have ya back,” he choked.

“I’m happy to be back,” she whispered.

“How can I help ya… Fledge?”

“Have the police come up with any leads on who attacked me?” Violet asked as he leaned in even closer.

“We haven’t heard anythin’ since they took over the crime scene,” Peyton answered. “But I have the detective’s number.”

“We’ll call him tomorrow,” Violet murmured.

“Okay,” Peyton sighed, looking dejected.

“Hey,” she said, reaching up to cup his cheek.

“What?” he breathed.

“Help me forget how much everything sucks right now,” she whispered.

“Yes ma’am, but how am I gonna—”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she snarled, grabbing him by the collar again.

“Much obliged, ma’am,” he laughed, eagerly settling his mouth against hers.