Release Day for Valkyrie!

 May 10th is finally here, and Valkyrie (ebook) is available to order! I published the print version last night, so it should be available soon, if it isn't already. Read on for a sneak peek!

 

Chapter 1

 

“What do you mean, you can’t help me?” Zia demanded, hoping the desperation in her eyes would assuage the rudeness of her question. “I know I can’t pay you very much, but—”

The tall Avian glared at her from the doorway of his home, the startling gaze from his round, crystalline blue eyes sending shivers up her spine. “I only deal with computer investigations. You should know that.”

She did know it, but she was at her wit’s end. “My sister is dead, and the police haven’t been able to find a single clue as to who did it.” She threw up her hands. “Please help me, Valkyrie. You’re my only hope.”

He leaned a shoulder against the jamb. “I am aware of your situation, and you have my condolences. However, unless there is some evidence to be found in an information system, I fail to see how I can be of any help.” His expression softened ever so slightly as he rustled his golden-brown wings. “I am not a private investigator. At least, not in the strictest sense.”

Her shoulders sagged. “But you’ve been the one to find important evidence in so many cases. Kim talks about you all the time. Says you’re the unsung hero of every adventure she and her family have ever been a part of.”

“She is exaggerating.”

That was all he said, which wasn’t too surprising. Zia had known Val for years—ever since taking refuge in the Palace Orphanage as a teenager—yet she couldn’t have said she knew him well. In fact, she doubted anyone could make that claim. She had only seen him when he made one of his occasional visits to the orphanage where she now worked with Onca and Kim Shrovenach, along with Rashe, the former star of the Pow Wow brothel, and his wife, Celeste. In all that time, she had always had him pegged as a man of few words. Absolutely gorgeous, of course—long golden-brown locks, sensuous lips, firm jaw, and cleft chin, not to mention the bare muscular chest and the skin-tight leggings that left very little to the imagination—but a bit on the stoic side. And slightly…intimidating. She swallowed hard, straightened to her full, albeit diminutive, height and shook her head. “I can read her pretty well. She was being perfectly truthful.”

“Perhaps she only seemed that way because that is what she believes, as opposed to an actual fact.”

Zia folded her arms over her breasts and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you saying my Mordrial abilities are faulty?”

“No, I am not.”

Unlike Kim, who was Zetithian, Val had always been difficult for Zia to read—possibly because his mood, which was rather flat, never seemed to change unless he was angry, which, in her experience, wasn’t often. While people of nearly every species were like open books when she bothered to read them, he remained an enigma. She thought it might be due to his being a genetically manipulated human clone, although never having met anyone else quite like him, she couldn’t be sure. “I suppose we could argue that point for days, but I’d rather not waste time. Enough has been wasted already.”

That was one point with which she knew he couldn’t argue. Letsa had been dead for more than a month, and if there were any clues as to her killer’s identity or the motive, they were fading with each passing moment. Since the police had completed their investigation of the crime scene—Letsa’s flat—it hadn’t been touched; Zia had seen to that. Not that there was much to go on, aside from the laser burn in the wall, which matched the one in Letsa’s forehead.

“I suggest you talk with her friends. With your Mordrial talents, you should be able to tell if anyone is lying.”

She let out an inelegant snort. “I could if I knew where to start. The best I can tell, she didn’t have any friends. At least, none that were what you’d call close.”

It was his turn to raise a brow. “Acquaintances, then.”

“The people she worked with, you mean? Yeah. The police talked to them, but apparently they didn’t get anywhere. She did most of her work from home on her computer.”

“Which the police have no doubt confiscated as evidence.”

“Yeah.” Yet another strike against Val being the one to consult. She’d known that asking for his help was probably an exercise in futility. Too bad she had no other options. None she could afford, anyway. Helping out in an orphanage wasn’t exactly the highest-paying job in Damenk.

“Without that, I would have nowhere to start.”

She peered up at him, fighting the urge to avoid his piercing gaze. “You’re really making this hard, aren’t you?”

“I am sorry if you feel that way. You may never know what happened to your sister. If we had something more to go on”—he spread his wings in what Zia could only assume was his version of a shrug—“but we do not.” He waited a moment before prompting her. “Do we?”

“No. We’ve got less than nothing.” With a sigh, she recounted what the police had told her. “No sign of forced entry. No sign of a struggle. No murder weapon. No fingerprints other than Letsa’s own. Not even a trace of another person’s DNA.”

“Makes it a tough case to solve, doesn’t it?”

“No kidding. I just wish I could figure out why,” Zia grumbled. “I mean, I could understand if she could read people’s thoughts and pick up on something she shouldn’t have, but her telepathic ability wasn’t all that great. She was better with animals, although she mainly sensed their emotions.” Which, in Zia’s opinion, anyone could read from the animal’s body language, not to mention how loudly they squealed, barked, or purred. “Even her elemental talents were…indistinct.”

Zia had never been able to decide which Letsa could control best, wind or water. Anyone who excelled at both could potentially affect the local weather; Letsa had never been able to summon up more than a few sprinkles or a light breeze, let alone a thunderstorm. But then, Letsa had never shown much interest in developing her talents, seeming to prefer being taken for a Terran rather than a Mordrial.

Another rustling of Val’s wings suggested he was anxious for her to be gone. She blew out a breath and summoned up a weak smile. “Oh, well. I had to give it a try. Thanks for your time.”

Anyone else would have at least given her a gracious “You’re welcome.” All Val did was nod and shut the door—not quite in her face, but close enough.

“That was a waste of my time and his,” she muttered as she turned and walked away.

She had only gone a few steps when she stopped and whirled around to catch him watching her from the narrow window beside the door.

Making sure I’m leaving? Or just…I don’t know. Something…

She frowned and shook her head. “Yeah. I’m going. You don’t have to stand there to make sure.”

One thing she did know about Val was that his hearing and eyesight were incredibly good. She’d never witnessed these abilities firsthand, but Kim’s reports were proof enough—which meant he could probably hear her mutterings quite clearly.

Too bad I can’t read his thoughts as well as he can hear me.

Then again, that might have been a good thing. She’d been privy to enough random thoughts she wished she hadn’t heard. For all she knew, he could be mentally cursing her in six different languages. His Stantongue was a tiny bit hesitant—stilted, even—which suggested it wasn’t his primary language.

Yet another thing I don’t know about him.

Not that it mattered. As far as she was concerned, any facts about Val and his life were nothing more than useless bits of information.

With an air of resignation, she began the long walk back to the orphanage.

 * * *

 Val knew he should feel more compassion toward a girl who’d lived on the streets of Damenk before coming to the orphanage at the age of fifteen. She and her sister had been among the earliest residents, and also the eldest of that initial group. Letsa had been the more ambitious of the two, continuing her education beyond what she’d learned in the orphanage. Zia, on the other hand, had opted to stay on as a staff member when she came of age—ten years ago, or was it eleven? He knew what it was like to grow up in difficult circumstances; his own background was even more troubled than theirs had been. He ought to have felt some push to help them.

I ought to at least have said I would try.

Although interfering in an ongoing murder investigation could land anyone in hot water.

If they can catch me at it.

For Val, practically anything online was fair game, and he’d never been prosecuted for digging into files to which he had no legal access. He could at least get into Letsa’s messages and emails and find out who she’d been in contact with. Of course, the police had probably already done that and found it to be a dead end.

If they bothered to try.

The murder of a woman who’d grown up in an orphanage with no family other than her younger sister and no connections to anyone in high places would’ve been considered a low priority. Whoever was running the investigation was probably a novice detective who might easily miss something a more experienced officer would catch.

He hadn’t been entirely truthful with Zia. He didn’t need Letsa’s computer. All he really needed was a list of any accounts she used, and even that wasn’t a requirement. Bypassing security was easily done except in highly classified accounts, and even then it wasn’t impossible.

He stepped away from the window once she was out of sight. He’d heard her mutterings well enough to know she was disappointed in him. Letting her down had been…difficult. Something about her deep brown beseeching eyes had almost touched—

No.

She was a pretty woman—thick dark brown hair and a figure that would move a much sterner man than he—yet she had an elfin quality that made her seem younger than her years. Until he looked in her eyes. There was age there—the kind of wisdom that spoke of a painful past. Perhaps that was why she’d stayed on at the orphanage rather than setting her sights on a more lucrative career. She had a need to help others who’d lived on the streets the way she had.

Onca and Kim had hoped that one day there would no longer be a need for their orphanage. Unfortunately, that day had yet to come. New children arrived on a regular basis, wandering in after fear and hunger made them desperate enough to place their trust in complete strangers. Many weren’t truly orphans; some were runaways from abusive households. Val had never been able to understand why some people felt the need to harm those in their care. The young should be cherished and nurtured, not beaten or starved.

He realized now why he’d refused Zia’s request. She made him feel…strange. She always had. Her mind-reading ability was unnerving. He didn’t like the idea that anyone could read his thoughts and learn about his past, which was best left buried. Reminders of it cropped up often enough. He didn’t need someone else delving into his mind to find them.

Did Zia know about his past? If so, she’d never even hinted at it. But perhaps she was simply as good at keeping secrets as he was. Maybe even better.

Still, she had come to him for help when no one else could provide it, and he knew how it felt to need help.

Striding across the room, he flung open the door and then slammed it shut behind him. Spreading his wings, he flapped them once…twice…three times, quickly gaining altitude until he was soaring above the neighborhood.

From his bird’s eye view of the streets, she was easy to spot, her gait slow and her head down while a breeze lifted her hair from her shoulders. As his shadow passed over her, she stopped and looked up.

Her startled glance was quickly replaced with a hopeful gaze as he swooped down to street level and landed lightly beside her.

A tilt of her head and a quirk of her lips told him she understood—both his initial reluctance and his ultimate capitulation. “Change of heart or change of mind?”

“Both,” he replied. “I will help you. I cannot promise to find out what happened to your sister, but I will do my best. She deserves that much, especially since she did not deserve death.”

Zia held out her hand. “I can’t ask for any more than that.”

Val was a stranger to intimacy—even a simple handshake was something to be avoided—but he took her hand anyway.

In that instant, he felt a peculiar sensation overtake him—a feeling of…

He blinked, unable to even identify what that feeling was. All he knew was that he had never felt it before in his life.

And he liked it. 

Valkyrie Link  https://books2read.com/u/3R0rxR

 

For the month of May, the Lucky Valentine Anthology is on sale for only 99 cents! 13 stories for less than a dollar!

 

Lucky Valentine link https://books2read.com/luckyvalentine