AN: I'm finished!And I'm pretty proud of it. It's not very long, but I really liked the OC's development and a few of the characters I added. Anyway, it'll be over until the new season picks up, but I have a few chapters left to post. I'll do it every few days because, honestly, I'm a comment whore. lol. I like to hear that you guys are enjoying it. It's probably why I managed to finish so quickly. Anyway, here's another chapter. Let me know what you think, and as always, enjoy! Skuld (schooled) Sigrun (seeg-roon) The rest are phonetic. Don't ask me how to pronounce the bike's name... no idea.
Chapter Seven
New York City, New York
Tove made it to the Big Apple within the hour, powered by the supernatural force of her faithful hound, Mánagarmr –the Moon Hound. He was the wolf that was destined to devour the moon when Ragnarok fell on the world.
His black body glimmered in the passing light, his wheels tearing apart the asphalt as she drove. His thunderous snarls, barks, and howls echoed off the passing buildings, deafening and terrifying at the same time. Mánagarmr was her beast, her creature on the back of which she had ridden into a thousand battles.
She felt like she was riding into another.
Tove didn't slow until she felt the pull of her sisters close by. As she guided the bike to the side of the street, she looked up and noticed that the building she was drawn to was a security firm. She arched a brow as she removed her helmet, surprised and not at the same time.
Throwing her leg over the bike, she set her helmet aside and entered the structure, unzipping her jacket and keeping her eyes keenly drawn.
The interior of the building was nondescript with stark, plain walls, a ficus in the corner, and a woman sitting behind the front desk. Tove walked past her without a second glance, ignoring her calls for Tove to return.
She walked down the hall, the thrum of her sisters' presence growing stronger and stronger. She could hear people talking, saw a few walking around and going about their business until finally reaching a door. Without bothering to knock, Tove opened it to reveal a substantial office. Sitting behind the desk was a woman with auburn hair, her nose down and focused on her work.
A spark electrified the space and Tove saw her stiffen. She lifted her head and peered at the Valkyrie in black through the fake lenses of a pair of glasses. Her skin was sun-kissed and pristine, her cheeks defined and her jaw strong. She was lovely in every sense and exuded an incredible authority.
She rose to her feet in a smooth motion and removed her glasses, dropping them carelessly onto the desk.
"It's time, Grimhildr." Tove said.
A smile, wicked and beautiful, twisted her sister's lips. "Finally," Grimhildr beamed.
She reached forward and with a lithe finger pressed a button on her phone. A loud beep pierced the silent room.
"Yeah?" A familiar voice chimed.
"Come along, Skuld." Grimhildr said. "Tove's here to retrieve us."
A string of laughter burst from the speaker before being cut short. Not a moment later, the door opened once more and an excited giantess stood in the threshold. Decked in a tailored suit not unlike Grimhildr's stood their other sister, Skuld. Her red hair shined like the fire in her eyes. She was ready for anything.
Tove said nothing further as she left the office, flanked on either side by women of similar height and imposing natures. Together again, they radiated an undeniable wave of power. It flowed from them and drew the eyes of the humans in the office, all of whom gave the trio a wide berth.
They exited the building and on either side of Tove's motorcycle was another, one painted a blood red, the other a deep, dusky, golden brown. Each Valkyrie straddled their respective wolf, now donning a leather outfit not dissimilar to their beasts.
"Where to first?" Skuld as she as placed her helmet on.
"Los Angeles," Tove replied.
In a cool voice, Grimhildr said, "Hildegund is closer."
"Sigrún first," Tove said. "Then we'll go to New Orleans."
"And then?" Skuld asked excitedly.
"Cairo, Illinois. To All Father." Tove said.
She kicked her bike to life and a chorus of the same followed. Ensuring her helmet was in place and she had a tight grip, Tove set off to the west. On either side rode her sisters.
New Orleans, Louisiana
The sun was down and Laura was eagerly awaiting the chance to get her life back. The sign outside read that the shop (restaurant?) she was in didn't close until midnight and even though the patrons were beginning to dwindle, she was desperate for Time to move faster. Was there a God of Time? There had to be. There seemed to be a God of everything else, so why not? Maybe she should pray to it for the clock to move faster.
Sweeney was still off to the side drinking to his heart's content while young women fawned over him. Laura didn't understand why it happened, or how. As far as she was concerned, he was a loud, obnoxious, foul-smelling prick. And yet, every woman he spoke to seemed to fall victim to his charm.
Laura rolled her eyes again. A twinge of something similar to jealousy trickled down her back. She refused to give it a second thought. She wasn't jealous of the women surrounding Sweeney, or wishing that she could have felt anything when he hugged her to his chest before their trip through his hoard. There was no heat against her skin, no pressure, no nothing. The only time she felt anything was when she kissed Shadow, or whenever Tove laid a hand on her.
The memory caused her to fight a shiver. The look in the Valkyrie's eye was terrifying. It was cold and angry, but there was a level of precise calm to the anger. It wasn't manic like with most people, that type of frantic rage that meant mistakes and a clouded mind. Tove had been very aware of what she was doing and what she wanted.
Laura swallowed a phantom lump in her throat and went back to waiting.
Just after midnight, when the shop had finally closed and Brigitte had given Laura something disgusting to drink, she was finally able to feel. She could feel and taste. It was dulled compared to being alive, but after weeks of nothing, it was sensory overLoad.
"The favor's for me, Baron." Sweeney said with a stern, undeniable edge. "So, do we have a compact?"
Samedi fell into his chair at the head of the square table and the small, petite woman with the ivory skin and fiery hair sat on the arm. The Baron cradled her hips to him and flashed a wide, brilliant smile. His pale grey eyes sparkled from beneath the brim of his hat, partially hidden in shadow, but still somehow glowing. They made Laura uncomfortable, and she didn't know why.
Both of them stared at Laura, openly and without the slightest hint of looking away. Most people didn't maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds. Laura read somewhere that it was a confrontational thing, a challenging move that sparked the desire to fight deep inside someone, so humans just don't stare like that. But Laura had to remind herself that she was the only human in the room.
From out of nowhere, The Baron suddenly shuddered. His eyes closed and his body physically shook for the briefest of moments. The instant it passed, he let out a long, low breath, and looked at them once more.
"Y'all feel that?" He asked the three around him.
Laura shook her head and shrugged. Sweeney paused. He looked as though he was attempting to sense something, but eventually shook his head, too. Brigitte, on the other hand, looked none-too-happy about something.
"Shit," Brigitte sighed with clear annoyance staining her features.
She tapped the edge of her burning cigar off to the side. The ashes fluttered to the wooden floor, some of it disappearing between the wide slats. She pursed her lips in disapproval while The Baron smiled wide, flashing his perfect teeth once more. His silver eyes landed on Sweeney.
"We got company comin'." He said.
Sweeney grumbled. "Well, they can wait their fuckin' turn, alright? We gotta deal or not?"
Neither Loa spoke at first. Instead, Samedi continued to muse over something and Brigitte took another long pull of her cigar.
"Feels like all five this time." She said in a clipped tone, smoke rolling from her lips with each word.
The redheaded giant seemed to be losing his patience and snapped a little as a result. Laura arched a brow when he did.
"Five of fuckin' what?"
"Valkyrie." Samedi chuckled.
Sweeney's face fell and Laura's chest seized. She clenched her jaw and chewed on the inside of her cheek.
"What?" All of the confrontation had left his voice when Mad Sweeney spoke again. The Baron simply nodded. "How the fuck you know that?"
"Death knows death, mon ami." He replied. His smooth voice glided across the table, meeting Laura's ears and tempting her into what she knew would be a false calm.
Laura didn't know what that meant, or if asking would even help her understand. There was always so much going on around her that she'd learned a while back to just 'go with the flow'.
"The fuck they doin' here?" Sweeney asked with genuine confusion.
"Who knows?" Samedi shrugged. "Maybe one of them needs a favor, too?"
The Leprechaun glowered. Laura didn't know what was happening, but it was clear that The Baron was taunting him, and Brigitte wasn't having it.
"Quit fuckin' with him." She said to her husband. She set the smoldering cigar on a saucer and stood. "You know why they're here."
Brigitte sauntered to the door, shaking her hips as she did. It was hypnotic, even to Laura. Sweeney glanced over his shoulder, too.
"They'll be here soon." The Baron cooed deeply.
They could hear the sound of the door's lock click. Brigitte had only made it halfway back before it suddenly opened. Laura felt an immediate wave of bitter cold wash through her. It was so much more severe than a 'someone walking over her grave' kind of cold.
Everything happened in slow motion.
Brigitte glanced behind her and stepped to the side, giving everyone at the table a clear view of whoever had entered. It was indeed five women, each far taller than both Laura and Maman Brigitte.
In the lead was a face Dead Wife recognized: Tove. To her left was a woman of equal intimidating beauty and undeniable strength with elbow-length auburn hair and a stern line to her jaw. Just off her left shoulder was another woman, similar to the first, with ashen-blonde hair that was pulled back and up into a tight ponytail. To Tove's right was a young woman with long, wavy, fiery hair that was braided away from her perfect face, and a vicious smirk, her eyes sparkling with delight. Just behind her was the fifth and final young woman, a woman with brilliant fair hair shorn close to her head and modeled in a pixie fashion.
All of them towered over the average person, even more so with heeled boots on their feet. Each wore leather that wasn't too different than their hair color, as though it was intentionally coordinated, but it wasn't 'matchy-matchy'. The odd thing was that, despite the outfits being little more than boots, leather pants, and a leather jacket (and should have been utterly cliché), they had the appearance of armor, like the only thing missing was the metal. To be honest, Laura wasn't certain she didn't see wisps of chainmail and a breastplate or two blinking in and out of existence.
What was perhaps the most unsettling to Dead Wife, however, were their eyes. She'd seen Tove's more than once, that brilliant, ice blue color that should have looked unnatural on a person. After seeing the five together, it apparently wasn't as uncommon as Laura had initially thought. To her surprise, all of them had the same exact eye color. All of them. There was no deviation in the shades, no difference between them. All five pairs of eyes glowed with the same electric blue color, to the point they seemed to pulse with life and unseen fire.
The group of five made it almost entirely into the restaurant before Tove noticed who was sat at the table. Her brows furrowed as she stared at Sweeney.
"What are you doing here?" She asked him as she finished her advance.
He threw his thumb over his shoulder, drawing her attention to Laura. Tove didn't look happy to see her, which she could understand. She felt the same.
"You?" He asked.
Tove didn't reply. Instead, she glanced behind her. Two of the other women stepped forward. The one with the ashen hair held a bottle of rum. She promptly handed it to Brigitte and, for the first time since The Baron sensed the group, she smiled.
"Oh," She cooed, swaying in her spot as she ran her full bottom lip between her teeth. "Spiced rum. My favorite." Brigitte started toward her husband once more. As she passed Tove, she reached up and swept her fingers delicately across the Valkyrie's cheek. "How'd you know, baby?"
Tove smiled down at the woman who didn't even reach her shoulder.
The redhead with the crazy eyes appeared with a box of cigars in hand. She stepped around them all and to the table. Laura caught sight of it when she set it down on the blank spot in front of Samedi. He let loose a low, rumbling chuckle. It was a box of Haitian cigars.
"Perfect," He grinned. The Baron tipped his head to them and gently touched the brim of his hat when he did. "Gratitude to you, Shield Maidens."
The five of them each offered him a nod in return. Laura didn't know what was happening, but she couldn't help but watch like a curious onlooker.
"Brigitte!" Samedi called. "Let us return the favor, no?"
Brigitte slinked into the back, somewhere out of Laura's view. She wanted to say something, to speak out and demand that she be given priority considering she and Sweeney had been there all day, but the words wouldn't rise. Instead, they caught in her throat. Her gaze drifted to Tove, still standing in the forefront of the group and flanked by the others. The very air vibrated around them and Laura honestly couldn't tell if it was her previous run-in with the Valkyrie that stained her view, or if it was real. Whatever the reason, she didn't want to risk angering all of them.
Maman Brigitte reappeared a minute or two after she'd disappeared with a tray of clear glass beer steins filled to the brim with a dark lager. The head on them was perfect. A part of Laura's brain recalled every beer commercial ever.
Brigitte walked casually around the five, allowing each to take a mug. They would have been huge in Laura's hand, but seemed downright average with the Valkyries. The Baron rose and held up his glass of rum which he'd refilled with the open bottle that had been resting on the table. Brigitte joined him and uncorked her new bottle. She raised it, too.
"An offering to the Valkyries." He said.
They toasted each other, lifted their drinks to their lips and proceeded to drink heavily from them. Samedi finished off his easily enough. Brigitte took a couple of long swigs as well from the slender neck of her bottle. She'd turned it completely upright when she had. Laura, with her brows furrowed, watched as the red chili peppers that had been resting at the bottom drifted towards her mouth. When they had, Brigitte happily took one between her teeth, pulled it from the bottle when she turned it right-side up once more, and ate it.
Laura cringed and let her attention drift to the Valkyries. Each one of them swallowed mouthfuls of their lager, draining the mugs (which probably held more than a solid pint) within a minute or less. They drank like pros, the proof in the form of dry chins -not one sporting a drop of spilled beer.
When everyone's glass or mug was empty, they set them aside. Tove was the one to speak.
"We'll leave you to your business."
As before, Samedi gave them an approving and grateful nod. Tove looked down at Sweeney. She smiled sweetly, tenderly ran her fingers through the hair at the back of his head in an endearing way, then turned to leave with the others in tow. Sweeney had watched them leave and lingered even after they disappeared through the door. Laura was about to say something, but he spoke first.
"Back in a tick." He said, abruptly standing and leaving the shop.
When Sweeney made it outside, the Valkyrie were mounting their beasts, a pack of motorcycles as powerful and filled with raw strength as the women who straddled him. Tove, already on her bike, glanced up before she had the chance to slide her helmet on.
"Yes, darling?" She asked with a slight grin that made him do the same.
"Hubby's lookin' a lil' worse for wear." The blonde with the pixie-cut sneered, commenting on the black-eye and cuts that Sweeney, genuinely, had no idea how he got. "Should've been gentler, Sister."
"Fuck off, Hildegund." He growled.
She smiled wide and the sound of two or three of them giggling met his ears. Mad Sweeney glared at her only briefly before turning his eye back to Tove.
"Minute?" He asked, jerking his head to the side.
She nodded, stepped off her bike, and walked with him a short distance until they were just behind the corner of the building.
"What you doin' here?" He asked her.
"Hildegund was here in New Orleans." She explained. "She's been here for a while now. Cage fighting."
His brows rose as he nodded nonchalantly. It made sense that she would be. "Why come see The Baron, though?"
"New Orleans is their territory. Came by to pay our respects to The Baron and Maman Brigitte." She continued. "Besides, if we don't give offerings to one another, who will?"
A soft, slightly sad smile touched her lips. It made sense. Not only was it a mutual show of respect between the two Death omens, but she was right. Lower mythical beings like themselves weren't exactly flush with followers anymore. Samedi and Brigitte didn't truly suffer for it being their kind was revered in New Orleans, but he still understood.
"They're gonna help me get Dead Wife back to normal." He said.
He felt like he had to explain what they both knew would likely happen, but the glitter in Tove's eye told him she was already aware. Tove knew how voodoo worked, how the Loa worked. They were simple. Sex, drugs, and alcohol- that was all they needed.
Tove closed the distance between them and let her lips form against his. Sweeney's eyes drifted shut and he kissed her back.
A wave of calm swept through him in that instant, a level of calm that let his shoulders fall and relax. He hadn't even realized he was tense until he felt the ache of the muscles loosening. Sweeney slid the fingers of one massive hand through her hair, cradling the back of her head.
The kiss was sweet and tender, two emotions that weren't common between the pair, but not unheard of. There had been times throughout the centuries that they were known to be downright loving to one another. It just so happened that blinding passion was generally what accompanied them more often than not.
Sweeney let out a soft sigh as they parted. When he opened his eyes, he saw Tove smiling up at him knowingly. She cocked a delicate brow, gave him a wink, then walked away. He turned and watched as she got onto Mánagarmr. Tove pulled her helmet on and kick started the Moon Hound. Her sisters did the same.
Skuld, the nut-job in red, twiddled her fingers at him in a sarcastic wave. He promptly flipped her off and somehow knew she was smiling beneath the shining facemask of her helmet.
Tove drove onto the street and suddenly vanished from sight, disappearing in a blinding, silvery light that swooshed away down the road. She was like a meteor, but there on Earth instead of sailing over it. One by one, the other four vanished behind her in the same way –flashes of silver that sped away at lightning speed.
When they were gone, Sweeney took a breath, readying himself for the insanity that was about to take place.
He reached out for the door only to have it open from the inside. Brigitte emerged from within, grinning wickedly up at him. His brows tugged together in confusion.
"Sweeney, mon amor." She practically cooed the words. "Resurrection is Samedi's business. We're not needed here no more." Her lithe fingers glided up his chest. "You comin'?"
He watched as she slinked away with her brand new bottle of rum in her hand. He glanced once more to the building before he followed after her.
Well into the Witching Hour, Sweeney found himself fucking a Death Loa in the middle of New Orleans' most famous cemetery. The moisture in the air coated his skin alongside the thick fog that hovered above the ground. Everything was charged with magic and sex.
Maman Brigitte gasped and moaned as he drove into her. Her toes were pressed against an obelisk, her hands clasped around the small iron fence that surrounded a grave. She threw her head back and continued to cry out while the fog began to move. It undulated and pulsed around them as he worked almost feverishly to reach his end.
The fog crept higher and higher until it circled the pair completely. Mad Sweeney's head began to spin and he knew, in that moment, that the fog wasn't fog. It was something else, something that instantly made the world around him fade.
Mad Sweeney's body vibrated, but felt heavy at the same time. His muscles were loose, like they were little more than jelly. Brigitte's clothes began to vanish revealing the pale, soft flesh beneath. As the seconds ticked by, he began to realize that she was fuzzy, out of focus –like seeing her through a frosted window. Sweeney shook his head to try and straighten everything again, but it wasn't working. Whatever was happening to him refused to be ignored or pushed aside.
Brigitte's back arched as she fell backward, showing her now-naked chest to the sky. Still holding her hips firmly in his massive hands, Sweeney continued to drive into her.
His head spun and the cemetery had vanished from sight. Sweeney was deep inside the Loa's spell and he knew it, he just didn't care.
The woman in his arms rose to wrap her arms around his neck, but the eyes staring back at him weren't those of Maman Brigitte. They belonged to his Valkyrie.
Tove's lips were parted, her delicate brows pulled together, and her hips moved in tandem with him. He didn't know where she'd come from, nor did he care in the slightest. Instead, filled with a resurgence of desire, Sweeney increased his efforts.
He pressed his forehead to hers and felt his muscles burn as he thrust into her. In his mind he could hear her, hear her gasps, her moans, and her begging for him to continue. Sweeney was swept up in the torrent of sex and magic, more than ready to lose himself in it.
His end was fast approaching and Sweeney knew he wanted to see her face when it happened. He wrenched open his eyes to watch her, but it wasn't quite Tove anymore. She faded out of existence –her hair growing duller in shade, her face rounder, and her eyes shifting tone to reveal Dead Wife.
Too far gone to draw back, the Mad King saw his shock mirrored back at him through Dead Wife's face a split second before he came. The euphoria charged through him to a powerful degree and he hated it as much as his clouded mind could hate anything.
Fucking Brigitte and Samedi and their fucking games…