The Valkyrie's Guardian (28 page)

“You really believe in Valhalla?”

“Of course. Eternal rest for worthy warriors. At Odin's table, in company with the beautiful and fearsome valkyries. But my Jack found his valkyrie early, didn't he?”

Cassie opened her mouth to speak before realizing she didn't know what to say.

“Haven't seen your kind for many years, lass.” His eyes flashed again. “I am ashamed to linger on the earth when my hair is gray, but I do hope to see the child whose father is a berserker and sorcerer, and the mother a healer and valkyrie.” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck like Jack did when something gave him chills. “Aye, I'd like to see that.”

Strange, but she hadn't thought of it that way. Her child could have outrageous abilities. She didn't suppose they manufactured a playpen to contain a kid like that.

Grandda studied the photo of his daughter. The woman stared back with dramatic, mischievous eyes. The same eyes Cassie had seen first thing this morning when she woke and found Jack sharing her pillow.

“Can't tell from the photo, but that's where Jack's bronze hair came from. He takes after her. The other boys are the spittin' image of the late MacGunn.”

She trailed behind him silently as he paused in front of a shadow box filled with hundreds of military ribbons and medals, some of them old.

“The earliest here is a Victoria Cross from Waterloo. The ninth MacGunn captured Napoleon's eagle. Died properly, defending his battalion in an ambush.” He tapped the glass. “Crimea, Order of the Garter. Spain. Russia. Normandy. These here were my brother's, from Korea. All tales for another time, should you have the ear.”

“Which are yours?” Perhaps it was risky to presume, but she figured it would be more offensive to imply she questioned his honor in following generations of glorified soldiers.

Grandda seemed far away. “Saigon.” He pointed to a row of tarnished stars near the bottom. “Vietnam from sixty-four to sixty-nine. You can see I gave it my best shot but came home on my own two feet anyhow.”

“How very gauche of you,” she joked.

“Aye. Right cheeky of me.” Something about his knowing, honest expression made her not only like him, but trust him.

The next feature in the gallery was a window with a view of the courtyard. Cassie knew this because she had been pacing a long while, watching out the window when she thought Jack wouldn't catch her spying as he played on the grass with a whole litter of children. Shouts of surprise and miniature battle cries came muffled through the glass.

Out of the blue, those ulcer-type cramps gripped her again. She gasped and clutched the window frame to keep from doubling over.

Grandda put a hand on her shoulder and clucked sympathetically. “When were ye wed, lass?”

“Last Saturday.” She sucked in a breath as another wave of throbbing threatened to turn her inside out.

His eyebrows hiked high on his forehead, and she heard him wonder if the right question was how long she'd been pregnant, not how long she'd been married. He dismissed the idea, confident Jack wouldn't have acted dishonorably. She liked him even more. “'Tis early for ye, lass. But then, I expect not much will be as predicted. Can't say this has ever happened before. Not since your ancestor, generations back.”

Cassie nodded, sighing as the last pain subsided. Then she realized Grandda made a good point. Obviously her great-something grandmother had taken a berserker husband; that's why Cassie was a valkyrie. There had to be information for her case, somewhere. Grandda held out a handkerchief for her, a charming old-fashioned gesture, and she wiped her forehead.

“Thanks, I feel fine now. Really, it's happened before, and it always passes.”

He smiled and patted her shoulder again, and as long as she didn't look in his too-honest eyes, she felt comforted.

She watched as Jack crouched in a defensive position, favoring his injured knee. A small army of miniature warriors ganged up on him and tackled him to the ground. Jack roared in feigned outrage and let them knock him onto his back. The more timid group lingering out of range decided their time had come, and they joined the dogpile. Jack cursed as someone struck his knee, but Cassie heard more delight than pain in the thoughts wafting from his mind.

After a few minutes of giggling and tiny flying fists, Jack stood, half a dozen kids bundled under one arm and several more all squished together under his other arm. They all squealed and protested, but he had them pinned. The littlest one had managed to climb his head and sat victoriously on his shoulders, hanging on with his fists pulling Jack's hair. He trudged forward and growled, a Godzilla-style rampage made all the more dramatic by his limping.

Grandda caught her looking. “Ah, now that's the Jack I know.”

“Who are those children?”

“Nephews, nieces, cousins from other families in the clan. They all come to the hall for schooling. The tallest dark-haired boys are Hugh's younger two — the eldest is away in the Royal Air Force. The lass in blue is his daughter. The two lads with wooden swords are Ben's.”

“Ben has children?”

“Aye. His wife passed when the second son was born.”

“And Hugh's wife?”

“The Lady Neva. She's on bed rest. Expectin' Hugh's fifth by the next full moon.”

“You don't suppose I might meet her?” Cassie kept her voice breezy, but the possibility of speaking to someone who could give her information made her giddy with anticipation.

“Eh, I don' know, lass. Perhaps that's not the best … well. How 'bout I ask her, when Hugh's away longer?”

“Thank you, Grandda. I'd like that.” Cassie looked out the window, because she couldn't stand the somber regret in his expression. Cassie simply had to speak to this woman who had survived four births. One was even a girl.

Jack was looking at her, he'd noticed her watching at the window. He crooked a finger, inviting her to come outside. She kissed Grandda on the cheek and went out the nearest exit after wrestling the ancient door out of the sagging doorframe. Jack got ambushed again, but it served him right for being distracted.

Up close she realized how roughly the kids played. Even the toddlers hit like linebackers. Hugh's teenaged boy backed up several steps then charged, throwing grass divots in his wake. His shoulders crashed into Jack's chest, and Jack gripped the boy by the arm and trussed him in a restraining hold. She heard Jack coaching the boy in low tones, gesturing with ducking and blocking, then sent him off to try the attack again. Jack parried a blow from Ben's oldest boy, then corrected his grip on the wooden sword, showing how much better his wrist rotated through the stroke now.

She liked that, how Jack played with the little kids but took the older ones seriously by training them. They had no idea the pain they caused him, jostling and bumping his knee, but obviously Jack thought it was worth it. Doubtful Jack's brothers would allow this if they were home. Regrettable that the kids had to wait for their parents to go away to play with their uncle. She still couldn't imagine any grudge worth holding that jeopardized a family. What on earth had happened here, over twenty years ago?

The kids paused to stare at her. Some were afraid, probably because they'd seen her hair flying in the static as she shot blue lightning from her fingers yesterday. They didn't know what to do about her, until Jack snatched her by the waist and tackled her to the ground. She wrestled him onto his back with her forearm pinning his throat, and the kids cheered that someone finally bested Jack. It was all the invitation they needed, and she became the next victim of a dogpile.

Cassie had several four-year-olds attached to her legs when the kids noticed a red pick-up truck roll through the gate. They groaned in unison and dispersed with impressive speed. By the time Hugh and Ben came into view, there was no sign that their children had been outside wrestling with Jack instead of studying in the hall.

Jack lay on his back with his head in Cassie's lap, chewing on a long piece of grass when his brothers passed through the courtyard. They shot him twin looks of disdain and went inside without a word. Charming. Jack gave no indication of being affected by his brothers. His eyes dropped closed and he purred, content with her tousling his hair and scraping his scalp with her nails. He might as well enjoy the moment, because he wouldn't be so happy once she worked on his knee — they'd planned his surgery for today.

“I think we should move our quarters inside the academy.” He turned his head in her lap so she would scratch by his ear.

“Okay. Why?”

“Just a feeling.”

Cassie shivered, then scrubbed her arms to smooth the gooseflesh. “That's creepy, when you do that. I expect a thunder clap, or a horse scream, or something.”

“I'm going to reinforce the windows and doors today and seal off every entrance but the front and west. The boys will need to pack into one dormitory, and I want a tight perimeter of guards. Oh, and will you help me reset the alarms to detect motion and thermal output?”

“Expecting an attack?”

“Of course. Mr. X's spies have had enough time to react to … I mean, they might know Kyros doesn't have Henry. I almost hope they track us here, just for the chance to end this.”

“What about your family?”

“The castle and the berserkers provide good security, but not for this kind of warfare. Contracting my clan to host the academy was the stupidest idea I ever had.”

“Why did you do it then?”

“After Merodach was defeated, we supposed the threat had passed. And Kinmylies is a burden for the clan, an expensive struggle they can't win. I thought the money would help them.”

“Did it?”

“It helped their cause and made mine worse.”

Ah, she got it. Ben seemed upset that Jack hardly ever came home, that he didn't do his share of farming and building. He was jealous of Jack's perceived wealth. He sniped about Jack's affiliation with Kyros and the SEAL team. So Ben was bitter about being left home to labor on a crumbling castle while Jack went off to find fame and fortune. Of course that wasn't accurate, but Cassie would bet that's how Ben saw it. It didn't help that Ainsley had listened enraptured to Jack's war stories last night over dinner. Ben's eyes should have burned holes through Jack's skull from across the dining hall.

“Do you think Mr. X would attack your family to get to you?”

“I'm planning on it.”

“Are they aware of the threat?”

“Kyros talked to Hugh, but I need to go over it with him.” Jack sat up and raked a hand through his hair. “Cass, I won't lie, I'm real anxious. I can't stand waiting around for something bad to happen. But what else can I do? Lock everyone inside a cage and wait for the battle to come to me?”

He plopped back into her lap and rolled to hide his face. “Even if that made logistical sense, I wouldn't bet a rusty dime my family would listen to me.”

“Then let's move the students. Remove the danger to your clan and bring the fight on your terms. It's been done before.”

“I'd need Kyros and Lyssa to do it. They'd have to call in at least a half-dozen other agents to help, maybe more. After what happened at Torrey Pines, it's clear we should expect anything.” Jack sighed through his teeth and cursed. “Damn I hate this, feeling like something is off.”

He said that, and her own instincts crawled. Experience had taught her that Jack's gut feelings were never wrong. And neither were hers.

“Bet I can kiss you on the lips without touching you.

Aw, damn, guess I lost.”

—Jack MacGunn, King of the Bad Pick-Up Line

A month passed with no one being shot by the sniper. That was because Jack behaved like a tyrant, imposing rules limiting activity outdoors, reinforcing windows and doorways, requiring security detail on deliveries … which didn't win any favors with his family, but he kept them alive. They didn't see the reports he did — about how Network agents worldwide hunted down every lead, took casualties, and finally an Edinburgh agent reported local movement.

Jack expected action, but every day he woke peacefully made him aware that other men were doing the work meant for him. Jack was finished with Kyros' wait-and-see strategy. Time for a bit of recon, but not with the ethics police breathing down his neck. Cassie didn't understand the classic means-and-ends relationship.

At lunchtime for their six-week anniversary, Jack stuffed Cassie with five helpings of strawberries and cream, after a bit of naughty business with both the strawberries and the cream. Then she said she wanted a milkshake. Actually, she'd said,
Jack I can't stop thinking about eating a chocolate mint Oreo milkshake, and if I don't get one soon, I'm going to strangle you.

He wasn't sure if it was a pregnancy craving or if she was sulking over not being immortal. When he was her age, even the thought of anything with sucrose, preservatives, or shortening turned his stomach. The few times he experimented, it made him ill like food poisoning.

He rounded up ingredients for the milkshake and searched a hundred places in the kitchen for a blender. She sighed in pleasure as she licked it off the spoon, and he felt a little jealous. Jack put her to bed for a nap and she slept like a baby. No convulsions. Cassie had bigger problems than not being an immortal extra-sentient, but still, thinking about it felt like evisceration. He knew he would be like animals in the wild who don't survive after their mate is killed. He'd never been afraid to die, but he'd never had so much to lose.

Jack had work to do now.

He gave her a quick kiss, and when she puckered her lips in her sleep, he was tempted to stay and tease her. Without permission his hand trailed down her side, and in his mind he already had her naked.

Jack cursed under his breath. One month and she'd turned him into a pansy-eating lover boy. Good thing his team wasn't here to see this.