“I'm wrestling in a match refereed by James Varga?” she asked of the empty hotel bedroom.
Still, at least this was something she was familiar with. After dealing with the stresses of her personal life for so long, it was nice to be able to welcome back the kind of thing she was supposed to be doing for a living.
“I'm being officiated on by the asshole who hit Charlie and then ducked out of our tag match. Marvellous.”
Suzanne shook her head as she put the laptop down on the mattress. Unfolding her pale, muscular legs she padded over to the fridge, walking surprisingly lightly on the balls of her bare feet. The robe from the closet was worn and a little threadbare in parts, but it was warm enough and most of her clothes were growing more fetid by the day in the bottom of her gym bag. Taking a bottle of water from the minibar and giving a mental 'whatever' to the cost, The Valkyrie flopped down on the uneven bedding and did what she did every single night.
Study the writing on the notes she'd found.
***
*LAST YEAR*
'Come to Las Vegas. Caesar's Palace. There's a room booked in your name.'
After Suzanne had taken out her frustrations out on the nearby lockers in the aftermath of her defeat to Garbage Bag Johnny in GTT7, she found a small, handwritten note on tucked inside one of her vintage Adidas sneakers.
'I know about Kyle.'
That was in the other.
At first, Suzanne was confused; thought that maybe Charlie was pulling a prank of her of some kind, but he'd know that there were some things you don't joke about. Suzanne had found Kyle, her husband, hanging from a beam over the stairwell to their house in Denton, Texas. The last time she'd seen him before that was when he had beaten her, and she had first discovered her Gift.
So if it wasn't Charlie, then who was the message from? The obvious culprits would be the Icelandic Council, who had inveigled themselves into her life at just about that time. They had wanted her to join them, to teach her how to use her Gift and ultimately go back with them to her ancestral home. They had seemed supportive, in their own cold way, but she had no doubts that they were capable of being harsh and ruthless when they needed to be.
It didn't seem that they would have planted the notes, though. She had agreed to work with them, to understand more about herself by understanding more about them. They had helped her prepare for her match against Garbage Bag Johnny. They had the opportunity to talk to her whenever they wanted to. Unless there was a dissension within their ranks, it couldn't be them. And even from just having spent a few days with the Council, she knew the two men would not turn on one another, not for anything.
So there was someone else involved.
It didn't take Suzanne long to make her decision. With no husband, no tournament, and no federation, she packed everything up and drove to the airport. She was going to Sin City.
***
*LATER THAT DAY*
Lars Halldorsson looked around the empty room and shook his head.
“Where did she go?” he asked, in Icelandic.
“I do not know. She was supposed to wait for us,” replied his colleague, Gunnar Arnisson. The big bear of a man ran a finger through his grey hair, and then strayed down to his flowing beard. Lars noted that he was nervous.
“She lost her match. I would imagine that she is licking her wounds somewhere. Perhaps she is ashamed that her Gift did not allow her to win the match?” said Lars.
“That is the most logical explanation,” grunted Gunnar. “Yet it is not, I feel, what has happened.”
“How so?”
“Something feels wrong. Maybe she has turned against us. Maybe she believes that we were behind the death of her husband?”
“That would not be surprising. So where would she have gone? Back to Texas?”
“You are the one with the Gift of Foresight, my old friend,” smiled Gunnar. “You would do better to ask yourself than I.”
Lars nodded. He was the head of the Icelandic Council, or at least what was left of it, but he was getting older and at times he felt that his Gifts were starting to desert him. Once upon a time he'd be able to concentrate, look inside himself and find some element of the truth behind his grand-daughter's disappearance, but now it was harder. He could still do it, but it would leave him weak for too long. He had to work with the Gift, allow his visions to come to him as and when they would, rather than forcing it.
He ruefully shook his head, the creases in his brow seeming to grow deeper, as if his body had to remind itself of his age. He had just that morning been teaching Suzanne to try to harness her Gift, use her Foresight to allow her to catch a glimpse of how her opponent would attack, of how she could use her knowledge to her advantage and turn the tables. In the end, she hadn't had long enough to learn, and she was beaten. There was no shame in her loss, against such an accomplished competitor, but Lars couldn't help but think that if he had found out earlier, if they'd had more time then maybe she could have overcome her opponent, and they wouldn't be standing there.
“We will see if she is nearby. We can speak to Charlie.”
“And if she has gone?” asked Gunnar.
“If she has gone,” said Lars, almost resigned to the fact. “If she has gone, then I will have to find her.”
***
*THE NEXT DAY*
Suzanne Larsson approached the check-in desk with no small amount of trepidation.
“Hello. I have a room booked in the name of 'Larsson',” she said. “Suzanne Larsson.”
“Ah yes,” said the receptionist, checking the system. You're booked into a room in the Augustus Tower for nine nights.”
“Nine nights?” asked Suzanne, trying to remove the surprise from her voice.
“Yes, is that fine?”
“Yes, yes. Absolutely.”
The Valkyrie took the key card and wandered off in the direction of the elevators. She was in something of a daze; both wary of the unexpected situation and somehow elated that something was happening that could take her mind away from the problems she had suffered in recent days.
Even thinking that, though led her mind towards dark places. As the elevator doors closed in front of her she saw the face of her husband, angrily coming towards her with his fists raised. She remembered how she felt numb, how she didn't sense any pain as his blows rained down, only feeling a detachment, and then the images. They came to her with each blow, a vision of the future, and they showed her the events that would transpire in the ring in her first round match against Syko Arsonist. She took that knowledge and used it, dragged herself through to the second round, where it all went wrong.
Still, her mind dwelt on the past. Her husband, hanging there, his face blue and his tongue sticking out of his lifeless mouth. He had been a bastard, but she had still loved him. Suzanne had hoped for some kind of reconciliation, or some... something that could have made their world whole again. Yet their world was at an end, by his hand, once again destroying something that she had helped create and nurture.
Then the faces of the two men from the Icelandic Council. She knew they had deeper plans than her success as a wrestler, but they were willing to go along with her ambitions in order to get on her good side. Were they involved in Kyle's suicide? Was it even suicide? Or did they just know, and exploit it to try and curry favor?
With a 'bing', the doors slid open and Suzanne was on the 35th floor. Pushing her doubts to one side, but staying as alert and focused as she had ever been, she quietly padded down the corridor to her room.
Sliding the keycard into the slot, she heard the whirr of the lock and turned the handle. Slowly, the door opened, and she saw a man sitting in a chair at the far end of the plush room. The man who had sent her the notes.
The man that, unbeknownst to her was her father, Magnus Larsson. The man who had defied the Icelandic Council and fled to America. The man who had abandoned his children for their own safety. The man who Lars Halldorsson believed he had had killed ten years ago.
“Who the fuck are you?” asked Suzanne.
“So polite, Suzanne,” he said, smiling and not moving from his comfortable position.
Magnus Larsson was a man who didn't look as if his fifty-some years weighed heavily upon him. His hair was still full of body, and the blond sheen was not the product of any peroxide or other coloring agents. He was not overly muscled, overly tall or overly anything, noted Suzanne. He looked like the very template of an average man. Someone who could slip away from your vision, be unnoticed, and live like a ghost, unseen. She caught a glimpse of his eyes and knew he was hiding something. This man was, in some way, dangerous.
“So why am I here? What do you know about Kyle?”
“I will tell you that later, dear,” said Magnus. “For now I have something for you to sign.”
“An autograph?”
“A contract.”
“A contract?” asked Suzanne.
“Yes, for Sin City Championship Wrestling. We've been very impressed by your performances in the ring during GTT7, and wish to offer you employment. What do you say?”
“I say that normally people call Charlie to deal with shit like this, they don't go around sticking cryptic notes into my shoes and talking about my dead husband.”
“Ah, yes,” said Magnus, the smile never leaving his face, despite him getting to his feet. “That was one of my associates. His methods can sometimes be, shall we say, a little unconventional.”
“You've got some fucking nerve,” said Suzanne, moving not an inch as Magnus approached her.
“And so have you, 'Valkyrie'. Here I am, offering you a job you crave, and all you can do is spit profanity in my face.”
Suzanne took a deep breath and unclenched her fists.
“Fair enough. I do want the job, but before I sign anything, I want you to tell me what you know about Kyle.”
Magnus tilted his head, wondering what he should tell her.
“Yes, I think I can do that. Now, please sit down, and we can go over the details; both of the contract and of your late husband.”
Suzanne's eyes narrowed, but she walked over to the table and sat down.
Magnus considered his next move carefully. He knew that telling the whole truth would help him not at all, and he certainly wasn't going to get all 'Star Wars' and reveal the true nature of their relationship just yet. Still, he hoped to keep her off balance for the time being.
“Now, Ms Larsson. I apologize for being blunt, but I have reason to believe your husband was murdered.”