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Odin is aware of my distaste for him, but he also knows I will remain loyal because there’s no other option.
“Who’s on duty while you two are in here sparing?”
“Acid and Reaper,” Inferno responds, referring to our Sergeant at Arms and Enforcer.
“You might want to have a conversation with them,” Odin says, gritting his teeth. “Things are getting unruly in Academy Hall.”
“Valhalla Rising MC is not responsible for Academy Hall,” I remind him. “The valkyries handle everything there.”
Academy Hall is the part of Valhalla where all the newly deceased are housed. For the first six months of their forever after, they remain there where they are trained and evaluated. And if they’re one of the lucky few, they’re recruited to become prospects for the club.
Stiff with rage, Odin bellows, “You’ll handle what I tell you to handle, Viking.”
The hair on my arms stands on end. Why Odin gave me the name of the people responsible for my death, I don’t know, but every time I hear him speak it, I want to scream down all the heavens around me.
Next to me, Inferno snarls, but with a glare from our God, he takes a step back and bows his head.
“We’ll go check on Academy Hall, as well as Acid and Reaper,” I finally capitulate.
“See that you do.”
Odin turns to walk through the trees surrounding the cage and disappears into a field of green.
“Why do you always give in to him?” Inferno asks quietly once we’re alone again.
And you shall have her.
“Because he owes me something, and I intend to collect,” I snap.
“Lemme guess… You’re not gonna tell me what that something is.”
I turn around and face my VP. “No, I am not.”
Inferno shakes his head. “Fine,” he mutters as he stalks to the gate. “Let’s get going before the big man decides to come back.”
I’m surprised when Inferno doesn’t push for more information. He doesn’t typically give in this easily. But I’m not about to give up my secrets. Not now, not ever, not even to him.
As we walk through Valhalla, the beauty of it no longer having an effect on me, I try to conjure up an image of my Mea. For the first few hundred years, her face would haunt every second, but it’s getting harder and harder to remember her.
Passing the Mess Hall, I quickly scan the area for Acid and Reaper, but don’t spot them. If I know my men, they’re likely off riding over the hills and valleys, blowing off some steam. It was a long night. Every night is a long night. Being dead means we don’t sleep, so every minute, every hour, every day bleeds into the next.
When we reach Academy Hall, Herja, the oldest of the Valkyries, is standing guard at the entrance.
“What are you doing here, Viking?” she demands. “This isn’t your territory.”
I paste a smile on my face. “I’m aware. But Odin said things were getting rowdy and asked us to check it out.”
“It’s nothing we can’t handle.”
Herja doesn’t like me. When I first arrived in Valhalla, I quickly identified her as the Valkyrie to watch out for, and that hasn’t changed. In fact, since Odin formed the MC to act as a sort of police force for the heavens, Herja has held a grudge.
“I don’t doubt that,” I tell her. “But orders are orders, as you know.”
Herja narrows her gaze before stepping aside to let Inferno and me pass. She might not like me, but she loves Odin and never questions an order from him.
After entering Academy Hall, the problem is immediately clear. Several newcomers are standing in a half circle and shouting taunts and encouragement as Kára attempts to coral a newbie, but he’s fighting her tooth and nail.
“What the fuck is going on here?” I shout, bringing the action and noise to a grinding halt.
