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!
“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
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Lucky
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