Dead Chaos
A VALKYRIE NOVE
L
#
3
Kindle Edition
Copyright
© 2013 by T.G. Ayer
Find out more about T.G. Ayer at
http://www.tgayer.wordpress.com/
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may
not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
***
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
***
Cover art
©
by T.G. Ayer. All rights reserved.
Edited by Amy Eye
***
Kindle Edition, License Notes
This
eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents
***
Dedication
For Mum & Dad
For not looking at me as if I was insane
when I broke the news that I wanted to be a writer.
***
My wings.
They’d taken my wings.
A sob caught in my throat. I desperately wanted to cry out, but no sound escaped my lips. I struggled for my next breath, and for one hysterical moment, I feared I'd be unable to perform the simple action.
My body held traces of numbness from whatever drugs still swam through my blood. My vision clouded at the edges, darkness threatening to take over, to take away the pain.
I almost gave in.
Almost.
I forced myself to glance behind me again. To look at what was left of my wings. I blinked, dry-eyed, at the damage that made my stomach twist. Silence echoed around the room. And in my head.
Pain-filled silence.
Finally, a sound, somewhere between a sob and a low moan, spilled from my stricken throat, bouncing off the walls of the sterile room. I shuddered, unable to turn away from the horror of those two broken, splintered bones . . . jagged edges, raw and bloodied.
A clock in the room ticked off every second, and with each metallic knock, the drug faded and pain blossomed within my body. My forearms and inner elbows throbbed. I lifted my right hand and inspected skin now mottled with purpling bruises. They'd drawn blood from every available vein.
I blinked; I didn’t want to think about everything they’d done to me while I’d been unconscious. I didn’t even want to think about the things I remembered. That my blood was the reason all those
einherjar
had died, that Loki was father to Dr. Lee and grandfather to Aidan.
My heart ached for Brody, who was still gone. I blinked again, the heat in my eyes fading as my anger rose.
Goosebumps pebbled my skin, hundreds of fine hairs standing ramrod straight and fierce. Odd to be cold. Compared to Asgard's biting chill, Midgard's weather was nothing, and the canned air of the hospital room even less yet I rubbed my arms to calm the rash of raised pores, to generate some warmth in my body.
I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t bear to look at my wings any longer. Twisting back around, I blinked through the haze of shock. I hadn't been alone at all. Now, I faced the Valkyrie and the
einherjar
who waited so quietly for me.
Sigrun and Aimee stood before me, both silent, their faces a mirror of sorrow and worry. Sigrun placed a warm hand on mine, and though my skin craved the heat, all I ached to do was shove her off. I didn’t want to be comforted. I didn’t want their sympathy.
What could they say, anyway? How could they explain what Dr. Lee had done to me? I didn’t think I could handle their pity or their sorrow. I’d scream if either of them even said the word
sorry
.
But one question needed asking because I needed answers.
"Why?" Even as I asked the question, I knew. They wanted to know more about how I functioned, about my physiology, about how a Valkyrie was made. They’d kept me drugged and unconscious for who knew how long. What experiments had they performed on me? They wanted my blood—and we knew why.
But they’d wanted my wings too.
Hot tears singed my eyes. I clenched my fists, wanting to pound them into something, to slam them into the bed, or into my thighs. It took an immense amount of strength to curb the urge.
"I’m going to kill him." I almost growled the words, the depth of both my emotional and physical pain impossible to bear.
"You know you are not doing any such thing." Sigrun gripped my shoulder, her voice low and comforting, yet firm. "Stephen Lee experimented on you. For reasons we cannot yet fully understand."
I glared at her, anger suddenly flooding my veins. "You think I want to
understand
? I don’t particularly care to understand his twisted reasoning. I want my bloody wings back." I was being unreasonable but I didn't care.
"You know we cannot put them back, Bryn." Sigrun spoke, trying to keep her voice reasonable. I could tell. My awareness seemed split in two. A part of me could hear and feel the sorrow and pain my Valkyrie friend experienced. But I didn’t want pity.
I needed action.
Now.
"Are my wings here? Did you find them?" I slid off the bed, hardly caring when the jarring action of my feet hitting the floor produced agonizing, splintering pain in what was left of my wings.
"Bryn." Aimee touched my other shoulder, her eyes filled with worry and sadness. "We found them, but do you really think it’s necessary right now? Maybe you should get some rest first. You can go when you’re feeling a little stronger." I hated that my friends were barely able to look me in the eye.
"I want to see my wings." I stood tall and straight, and glared at Sigrun. I got away with my act, holding back waves of pure agony. The drugs they’d pumped into me had begun to wear off while we’d listened to Loki’s confession. But the painkillers seemed to work stronger on my wings as only now did the agony begin to spread through them. It spiked, as if someone had taken a handsaw to my back. From the condition of the remaining bones, it seemed that was pretty much what they’d done.
Hesitation played across Sigrun's face, and I saw the glances exchanged between the two girls. "If you don’t take me, I'll find my own way there."
"Very well then, but be prepared. It is not a pretty sight." Sigrun replied, steeling her features, hiding her emotions. She slipped an arm around my waist and helped me out of the room and down the passage. The sterile white walls and floors seemed to close in on me. Invisible fingers gripped my lungs, squeezing, expelling every last breath, suffocating me slowly.
When Sigrun tightened her grip, I realized I’d begun to slip, my body demanding release from the pain, my knees strangely disconnected from the rest of my body.
Catching myself, I concentrated on walking, putting more of my energy into each step forward. Aimee walked beside me, mournfully silent. I appreciated her empathy, but how could she really understand? To me it felt like a limb had been removed. I no longer felt whole.
I frowned. I hadn’t even had wings until a few months ago, yet it had become so much a part of who I was. I stared at the floor tiles, counting each one as I walked over them. The more I counted the closer I’d get to the lab.
Four … five … six.
***
Nine … Ten … Eleven.
Sigrun slowed, interrupting my concentrated counting, and guided me into another room. Two
einherjar,
worked in the lab, the light golden glow of their skin confirming them as Odin’s Warriors. One Warrior bent over a plastic bag, labeling it with a black felt marker. The other stood beside a gurney, staring through a microscope.
My heart clenched.
"Jasper, could we have a moment in private, please?" asked Sigrun. The Warrior at the gurney glanced up. Mild curiosity mixed with annoyance at the disturbance transformed into pained shock and worry as his gaze flitted to me. He looked back at Sigrun.
"Valkyrie Sigrun, I do not think this is wise." He protested, his face wrinkled with concern, hand still gripping the microscope.
"Jasper, please. Brynhildr has every right to see them." Sigrun met my eyes and nodded, then turned to the Warrior. "Will you leave us, please?’
Jasper let go of the microscope, which danced on its extendable arm, and stepped away from the metal bed. He flicked his gaze from Sigrun to the doorway to his Warrior partner, reluctant to leave the room. Then his eyes traveled from Sigrun to me to the gurney and back to me.
I hated seeing the pity in his expression. I wanted to scream at him to stop looking at me that way. Sigrun gripped my waist and moved me forward. Aimee stood close behind me and I felt her hesitation. She took a step away, as if intending to leave.
"Aimee, please don’t go." I glanced at her over my shoulder, barely registering the departure of Jasper and his Warrior friend.
"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice small and relieved.
"Yes. I’d like you to stay. Please."
She nodded and moved beside me.
The three of us stood at the gurney, staring down at what lay on the steel surface. My vision blurred as hot tears flooded my eyes. Beside me, Aimee drew in a shuddering breath that failed to mask her sob. Sigrun, on the other hand, remained stoic although the slight flutter of her wings gave away her emotions.
A ripple of shock ran through me as I realized my wings wouldn't ever do the same again, wouldn’t ever show my sorrow or my pain or my anger again. They couldn’t. Because they lay on the gurney, limp and lifeless.
Both my wings were splayed on the metal table looking much like the corpse of a gigantic, lifeless bird. The deep red, almost burgundy feathers showed me things I’d never noticed before. The way the light caught the tips of the feathers revealed a golden glint, shimmering and beautiful. And the feathers weren’t red. Or rather they were red, and a myriad more colors, a deep burgundy blended with blood red, copper with russet, and interspersed within each individual feather were streaks of gold.
Hysterical laughter bubbled up in my throat but I swallowed it down.
All this time I’d envied Astrid’s stunning white wings that shimmered silver as she walked, so bright as to appear angelic. All that time wasted coveting someone else’s feathers and yet I’d already possessed wings of such stunning beauty. A beauty I'd never seen for myself.
A beauty now wasted.
We stood staring, horrified. One lay spread out, revealing the splayed feathers individually. It seemed perfect, untouched and undamaged. The other was mutilated beyond imagination.
Different parts of the wing were in varying stages of desecration, one section stripped of its feathers, bare down to the prickly skin covering the bone, and beside it, more horror.
This time, I gasped. Beside the de-feathered portion of the wing, a section had been neatly, precisely skinned. Bare, white bone stared back at me, hideous and terrible.
A tense silence blanketed the room, and the soughs of three sets of breathing echoed eerily. My knees softened, threatening to spill my weight onto the floor. Only the comforting squeeze of Sigrun's arm around my waist held me up. I’d forgotten about her there.
Aimee’s gasp made me look farther down the table. If possible, it was more appalling than the flayed bones. They’d cut away portions of my wing, laying pieces beside each other, side by side, as if my wings were some ancient dinosaur bones uncovered in a paleontology dig. As if they were trying to piece together what the wing should be.
"Sick bastards," said Aimee. I stared at her, shocked. The incongruity of Aimee’s swearing took me straight out of my horror. She gave me a sheepish smile then returned her attention to the wing, her jaw clenched. "I’m sorry. This just pisses me off. I want to wring the f-… er… wring that doctor’s neck for this."
I understood what she meant, but it felt a bit surreal to me. Dreamlike, as if I floated underwater, viewing everything through the refracted lens of water.
"We will have him punished." Sigrun’s jaw tightened, her voice taking on a determined edge.
I sighed, the sound shuddering from my throat. "Does it really matter what we do to him?" Both girls glanced sharply at me. "I mean, my wings are gone. Can’t get them back, can I? And what will we do? Chop off his fingers? Or maybe his arm?" I knew I didn’t really mean it. I really did want to punish him. Anger surged like lighting through me, fury blinding me for a moment. I wanted to find Dr. Lee and slam my fists into him until my rage faded and my sorrow eased.
"It is alright to be angry, Bryn. But Odin will find a fit punishment for him." Sigrun nodded, her eyes understanding exactly what I was thinking.
"Yeah, he’s going to have to find something major to punish Dr. Lee with for all this." Aimee scanned the room, drawing my gaze from the table to an array of bottles displayed on a low shelf. Pieces of my wings were suspended in a dusky solution, each a different portion, as if they liked the idea of trophies. Farther down the table was a row of microscopes and stacks of little jars containing blood samples. It horrified me to think that part of my body had undergone this extent of experimentation. As if I were a monstrosity.
"This is what makes Midgardians a barbaric race." A voice penetrated the haze of violent anger that surged through me.
Thor stood behind me, his gorgeous face twisted with sadness as he examined the remains of my wings, then stared around the room at the travesty. He shook his head, his fingers gripping Mjolnir in his hand as if he wanted to throw it to destroy everything within the room. I understood his emotions. Only more so. I seriously wanted to torch the place.
"We will punish him." The words were a series of controlled, angry grunts. Thor walked toward me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Valkyrie Brynhildr. The All-Father wants you to come home. He wishes to talk with you."
I nodded, flicking a glance back at my wings. Or rather, what remained of them.
Thor squeezed my shoulder again. "And Brynhildr, please accept my sorrow for your loss. I know this cannot be easy for you. I wish you strength and courage."
"Thank you, my lord." He smiled, his mouth shaping a sad shadow of the real thing, sketched a small bow. He beckoned to Sigrun who gave me a small apologetic wave. She followed Thor as he strode out of the room in a haze of taut silence.