Page 1 of Valkyrie Unknown

Part1

Davyn

One

Davyn

A thousand years ago,when Odin gifted me the power of a Berserker, he should have warned me. Warned me that not dying a glorious death in one of his wars—that surviving hundreds of years—would mean growing strong enough to live forever.

Or close enough.

Now I existed in a world where wars were fought using machines, and the streets were filled with people who no longer worshiped the old gods or believed those gods ever existed.Fighting for funhere meant throwing a few punches and kicks, maybe pinning someone to a mat, and then shaking hands and walking away.

I stashed my borrowed tools in the same place all of the other temporary workers were returning theirs, and then joined the line of men in front of the wooden skeleton of a house, to get my pay for the day.I didn’t need the money, and I’d hand it to someone else after we left the job site, but people stopped trusting me if I did the work and didn’t ask to be paid.

People were weird.

The chatter around me was mixed, and the English overlapping Spanish was aural chaos. I processed both bastardizations of the original tongues without an issue. Over the centuries, I’d fought against and alongside a dozen or more different nations, some of which no longer existed and none of which resembled what they were back then. Back when it was normal for a man to become a wolf, or a bear like me, to charge into a heated battle and tear their opponents limb from limb. When even a friendly fight meant tearing my opponent apart, knowing that they too would heal when the match was over.

That wasn’t the way people fought anymore, and for me to cling to it was dangerous. The blood lust always called to me.

Jobs like this one, where we worked outside and pushed our physical selves hard all day, helped with that. I was creating, bringing this house to life with my fellow grunts. The grit of dirt coated my tongue, and the stench of sweat filled my nostrils and sated part of my beast, if not all of it.

A nearby conversation took on an edge, catching my attention and drawing me out of my musings. Santos, one of the day workers who was temporary like me, was arguing with Jay, the man who hired the group of us outside the hardware store.

“I. Don’t. Understand you.” Jay’s voice leaked derision.

“Pay me.” Santos’s response was in Spanish.

Jay shoved him in the shoulder, and my bear roared in my head at the thought of a fight—at the idea of teaching this man there was a price for enacting injustice.

A century ago, that roar was impossible to silence. I could control the beast now, as long as I didn’t let it out. With a calming breath, I stepped out of line and joined the pair. “Is something wrong?” I asked.

I was at least fifteen centimeters taller than anyone else here, and Jay clenched his jaw when I approached. He’d been happy to pick me up. I was a big white guy and spoke fluent English. The temptation to make him regret hiring me flowed in my veins.

“He pocketed a couple of the tools.” Jay spoke with the confidence of an idiot. “I’m not paying him for today.”

Santos radiated anger. “Why won’t he pay me?”

“He’s a greedy asshole who thinks what he does gives him power over you. Also, he said you stole his tools,” I said in Spanish.

Fighting with different armies and drinking with them after meant learning to communicate with them. The languages hadn’t been easy to learn, but I’d had centuries.

Santos gestured at himself. “Does he think I stuck them up my ass? Look at me. I’m not carrying any tools.”

A good point.

“What’s he saying?” Jay demanded.

I turned to the foreman. “He wants to know where you think he’s carrying said tools.”

“He stashed them off site, to come back for them later.” Jay gestured toward the road, where the only things nearby were his truck and a few house frames. “Both of you move. Neither of you is getting paid today.”

Fucking—

I fixed Jay with the hard stare most men tended to wet themselves over, and pushed a hint of bear-growl into my voice. “How about you pay everyone what you promised plus a bonus, and I don’t tell your boss that the tools are in the box in the back of your truck?” I didn’t know that was what Jay had done, but experience said it was as good a guess as any.

“I— No—How dare you?” Jay’s stammering helped confirm my assumption.

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