Chapter 4
Morgan
When we leave the bar, I can’t help but notice the difference in the city. The streets are less crowded. Shops close early. People walk with scarves and surgical masks over their mouths and noses. The virus is here. It’s real.
We return to The Nead and Dylan takes the camera to Sam’s studio. He hopes to recover any image locked inside. Full of anxious energy, I go to the basement gym and blow off some steam. Hildi is already there, beating the shit out of a punching bag. She nods at the other gloves hanging on the wall, “Wanna fight?”
“Yeah,” I say, yanking them off the hook. “I kind of do.”
There’s a white canvas sparring mat in the middle of the room. I’ve used it many times before, mostly training with Clinton. I’ve bled on it. I’ve made love on it, and that’s when I realize that every room in this gigantic house has taken on emotional meaning to me. I blink back tears of nostalgia.
“You ready?” Hildi says, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I tug on the gloves and square off. “Show me what you’ve got.”
I’ve fought Hildi before, mostly just out of some kind of supernatural pissing contest to prove my worth. I won, and now we’re friends. Or at least I think we are. What if we’re not? What if she’s one of the bad guys? Is that what Tran meant? Did Bunny leave her here to watch over us? Friend or foe, I won’t take it easy on her, and when she punches me in the kidney, I know the same is true of her.
The workout tests my body. Hildi isn’t exhausted or mentally drained like I am, but I keep up, dodging and getting in my own hits. We stay in the red circle, fighting for dominance. She has me on height. I have her on instinct. Clinton helped me cultivate a natural ability to remain two steps ahead. My feet and shoulders move faster than my brain. Her punches land hard. Adrenaline spikes in my blood when she swipes my feet and I land hard on my back, smacking my head on the mat. Black spots cloud my vision and rage climbs up my spine. I want them back. I want my guardians. My mates. I want my balance of power. I want serenity. But most of all I want to throttle Bunny and ask him why. Why would he do this?
“Why?” I mutter, the black spots clearing. Hildi hovers over me, concern on her face.
Is it real? Does she care?
“Morgan?” I use her distraction and kick the back of her knee, dropping her to the ground. I pounce, rolling on top of her and ripping off my gloves in the process. I punch her repeatedly, the skin of my knuckles tearing. She cries out, fighting against me, blood dripping down her lip. I wrap my hands around her throat and something dark unleashes; vines sprout from my fingers, coiled and black, twisting around Hildi’s throat.
“Why?” I ask again, a choking sob caught in the back of my throat. “Why would you do this to us?”
“Morgan,” Hildi grunts, using both hands to pry mine off her neck. The vines tighten. “It’s me. Calm down.”
“Who are you?” I ask.
“Hildi.”
“No,” I seethe. “Who are you really? What do you want? What side are you on?”
She stops struggling, her lips slack and turning purple. My vision finally fully clears and I take in the blonde hair and feminine features. I hesitate, and Hildi uses the opportunity to break free, kneeing me in the gut. Stunned back to myself, the vines retract, slithering back into my fingers. She tosses me aside. I lay on my back, breathing heavily, disoriented and confused.
The Valkyrie stands over me for a minute, flinging her gloves on the ground. Heavy feet race down the basement steps and I hear, rather than see, Dylan in the doorway. “What happened?”
“She’s lost her fucking mind.” Hilid rubs her neck. Red welts are starting to form.
“Go rest. I’ll take care of her.”
“She’s out of control,” she mumbles. “Her powers. She doesn’t have control.”
He absorbs that and says, “Take a break. We’ll watch the dungeons. Go home. See Andi.”
Hildi disappears and Dylan stands over me for a moment, assessing me. I can’t stand the judgment on his face. “I just…I got paranoid.”
“I know what Tran said, but we can trust Hildi.”
“How do you know?” I rub a tender spot on my cheek where she hit me.
“Because even though the Goddess of War and the Goddess of Death sound like they would be on the same team—trust me, they’re not.” He touches my bruise.
“I’m fine.”
“No,” he says, bending over to pick me up. I fight against him, but he’s bigger and in a second he’s got me cradled in his arms. “You’re not fine and to be honest, neither am I.”
His words jolt me and fire boils under my skin. “What are we going to do? They’re gone. People are dying. We can’t trust anyone. We couldn’t even trust Bunny.”
He presses his forehead to mine. “We’re going to get through this and we’re going to do it together. Starting today. Starting now.”