Daughter of Odin

by S. K. Gregory

  He surveyed the piles of clean dishes. Running a finger along the side of one of the plates, he held it up to me. There was a tiny speck of sauce that I had missed.

  “Not good enough. I can’t pay someone for sloppy work.”

  “It’s one plate. I can wash it right now,” I said, reaching for it. He stepped between me and the plates.

  “I don’t think so. Out you go.”

  “You can’t do this. I worked, I deserve to be paid!”

  “Tell it to someone who cares.”

  I was led to the exit and told to leave. Humiliated and angry, I left, cursing Graham. He did that deliberately.

  Facing a night on the streets, I came up with a plan. It wasn’t a good plan, but it was all I could think to do. I would freeze to death otherwise.

  I waited in the alley until all of the staff had left. Graham was the last one there. He came out with a bag of trash and while his back was turned, I sneaked back inside and hid in the pantry.

  Watching from the partially open door, I saw him head out of the kitchen, to the back of the restaurant where the office was.

  I quickly moved out to the front, to the main till point. There was a tips jar that I could take. I heard Graham say that they would be sorted out in the morning. I felt bad for the rest of the staff, but I doubted any of them were living on the streets. As I reached for the jar, I noticed a white cloth bag lying on the counter, stuffed with tonight’s takings. Graham would be back any second. Could I do it? If I got caught it wouldn’t make much of a difference how much I got away with. Better to get a nice room tonight than a questionable motel room.

  Opening the bag, I reached in and removed a wad of bills. Shoving them in my pocket, I headed back to the kitchen. The office door opened and I threw myself to the ground and crawled under a table.

  Graham picked up the bag, then returned to the office, probably to lock it in the safe.

  Heart pounding, I waited until I heard the door close then bolted for the exit.

  As I was exiting the alley, I made the mistake of taking the money out of my pocket, eager to see how much I got.

  I didn’t see the man approach. He appeared to be homeless, dressed in a long coat with a scraggly beard. He smelled strongly of whisky.

  “Hey, what you got there?” he slurred.

  I tried to shove the bills back into my pocket, but he reached out and gripped my hand, trying to pull the bills free.

  “Let go,” I cried.

  He shoved me back into the alley, away from prying eyes, not that there was anyone about this time of night.

  “Give it to me,” he growled.

  Fear made time slow down and I tried to push him away. With my hand on his chest, I put all my strength behind it. He suddenly let go of the money, his body starting to twitch. For a moment, I thought he was having a fit. He let out a horrible gasp, then his eyes rolled up in his head and he fell to the ground.

  Terrified, I turned and ran, never looking back. I convinced myself that he had a heart attack or a stroke, but surely he wouldn’t react that way? It was like the life left him.

  I managed to get over two grand from the restaurant, but I used it sparingly. It wasn’t until later that I realized I would be the number one suspect. Graham probably didn’t hesitate in telling the cops about me.

  I closed my eyes and rolled onto my side. The next thing I knew, I was waking up and it was dark outside.

  Fumbling for the lamp, I switched it on and checked my watch. It was after five pm. Sighing, I went into the bathroom to freshen up. I was starving and I wanted to go back to the diner and see Francesca again. I didn’t know if I had the nerve to speak to her, but I wanted to try. That was if she was still working. At least I could get some food, if nothing else.

  The temperature had dropped considerably in the last few hours, making it bitterly cold. I half jogged back to the diner, in a bid to get there quicker and stay warm.

  Stepping inside, I quickly scanned the room, looking for Francesca. She wasn’t there. She probably had the early shift. I ordered a sandwich and a coke, and sat in one of their red vinyl booths to eat it.

  So, this is where my mother has worked for over twenty years.

  It was also probably the same place where she met my father. Whoever he was. I always assumed that he wasn’t in the picture, but what if he was? Maybe he was the one who placed me in the dumpster, or at least convinced Francesca to do it.

  “You’re back.”

  My head whipped up to find Francesca looking at me. She had her coat on, so she must have just finished her shift.

  “Yeah, I was hungry,” I muttered.

  She took a seat opposite me. “Bob says he was questioning you about a man that died.”

  “Should he really be telling you that?” I said. I didn’t mean to snap, but what business was it of hers?

  “Bob and I are friends. Have been for a long time. He wasn’t gossiping, he was looking for witnesses.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t kill anyone if that’s what you’re wondering. He was killed by a bolt of lightning.”

  Francesca’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “It came through the roof of the truck. Weird though, the sky was clear. But it saved my life, so I’m not complaining.”

  She was staring at me. Her eyes taking in every detail of me. I didn’t like the scrutiny.

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  “I’m hungry.”

  “In town.”

  I swallowed hard. “I’m doing a journalism internship.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I’ve always been interested in journalism. I actually read an article by Randall Turner and it got me curious about Redwood Cove.”

  Francesca chewed her bottom lip, looking pensive. She knows. “What article was that?”

  “About the Dumpster Baby? You might have heard about it. She was found in the dumpster outside.”

  “I know the story,” she said softly.

  “Do you have any kids?” I asked. I was trying to get a rise out of her, to see how she would try and lie her way out of this.

  “No, I don’t,” she said.

  “No? Randall said that you had a baby, but you gave it to your sister to raise.”

  She sat back and folded her arms. “Randall needs to stop spreading gossip.”

  “Was he lying?”

  She was silent a moment. “No. I did have a child, but I wasn’t married, and I couldn’t raise him alone. So, I gave him to my sister. As far as he is concerned, she is his mother.”

  “He? You had a boy? What’s his name?”

  “Eric. I really should get going.”

  She stood up and zipped up her coat, avoiding my gaze. “You must know her though.”

  Francesca turned back to me. “What?”

  “The woman who dumped her baby. You probably know her, have met her. She has probably eaten in this diner.”

  Now she looked angry. “I’m sure that’s true, but I don’t know who did it. And if you are content to rely on rumors and gossip, you aren’t going to get the full picture. What happened to that child was dreadful, but did it ever occur to you that maybe she had a reason?”

  “What possible reason could she have for placing a new born in a dumpster?”

  “Maybe she didn’t dump the child, as you put it. Maybe she was hiding her. Did you ever think of that? We can’t know what her motivations were, but I would at least try to put myself in her shoes before I jumped to conclusions.”

  “Hide her from who? The father?”

  Francesca turned away. “Like I said, I don’t know her reasons.”

  I watched her leave, wanting to scream at her, to demand answers but I didn’t. What did she mean by hiding me? Or was she just trying to make excuses? If she wanted to hide me, for whatever reason, she could have left me somewhere safer. At the Sheriff’s station, hell, even on somebody’s doorstep. I could have laid in that dumpster and starved to death or froze. If I hadn�
�t been found… Wait. Who did find me?

  I never thought about that before. The article was written after the fact and I was sure that if Randall knew who found me, he would have included a name. The Sheriff might know.

  I would have to go in and give my statement anyway, might as well be now. I left my half-eaten sandwich and headed to the station.

  The deputy on duty took my details and told me I would have to wait. Taking a seat on a plastic seat in the corner, I stared at the wall. I wished I had my Walkman to listen to, would they return it to me? It was evidence, so probably not. It was the only thing I owned that I actually cared about. In some of the foster homes I had been in, the other kids would steal whatever you had. It was the only thing I managed to hold onto. Sad, really.

  “Miss Green?”

  Sheriff Eaton approached me. “I didn’t call you in.”

  “Oh. Well, I wanted to get it over and done with. Is that okay?”

  “Of course. Follow me.”

  We went into a small interview room. “Can I get you a cup of tea, or a soda?”

  “No, thanks.”

  We went through the formalities and I gave my statement. I didn’t tell Sheriff Eaton what Hank’s face looked like before he died. I would sound crazy.

  “Is there anything else? Anything unusual?” Sheriff Eaton asked.

  “Unusual?”

  “This guy was driving a stolen truck, he had no ID on him and…well the body was in a strange state.”

  “He was struck by lightning, I doubt it looked great.”

  “I guess so. Can you read over the statement and if you are happy with it, sign at the bottom?”

  I did as he asked. “Can I ask a question?”

  “Shoot,” he said.

  “I was looking at old newspaper clippings at the paper and I found one about a baby that was found nearly twenty years ago.”

  “What about it?”

  “It doesn’t say who found her.”

  He scratched the back of his neck. “I did.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes, I heard her crying while I was on patrol. Lucky I was walking by.”

  “Yeah, lucky.” This was the man who had saved my life.

  “Can I ask you a question?” he said.

  “Of course.”

  “Who are you really? Cause I spoke to the editor of the paper and he says that there were interns starting today, but you aren’t one of them.”

  Shit. I didn’t think he would check. Which was stupid, of course he was going to check my story.

  He waited for me to answer, but what could I tell him other than the truth and I really didn’t want to do that.

  “I can run your name through the system. See if you have any priors. Or you can tell me why you came to Redwood Cove.”

  If he ran my name he would find out about Denver, how I was wanted for questioning by the Denver PD. I would definitely get locked up.

  He got up from his chair.

  “Wait.”

  He did, an expectant look on his face.

  “I’m…” I sighed. “I’m the Dumpster Baby.”

  He was not expecting that. His eyes widened and his breathing quickened. “You can’t be.”

  He sat down again. “You were fostered out of state.”

  “Yes, but one of my foster fathers found the newspaper clipping. I saved some money and hitchhiked here to find out who I am. Where I come from.”

  “No. This is bad. You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Well clearly. I’ve been attacked, questioned by the police and I’m pretty sure I met my mother today, but she wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

  “Francesca knows you’re here?” he blurted. Then he realized his mistake.

  “Thanks for the confirmation.”

  “Shit,” he groaned. “She’s going to kill me.”

  “If you knew that I was her baby, why didn’t you say anything? Arrest her for what she did?”

  “Kari you don’t understand. You need to leave town, now. Before any of them find you.”

  “Any of who?”

  “Get your stuff and meet me at the diner. I’ll get you out of town.”

  “No! I’m not going anywhere. I want to know what is going on,” I snapped.

  “Kari your life is in danger. Please do as I say.”

  My heart was thumping in my chest. Who would be after me? The same people my mother hid me from?

  “Go. We don’t have long,” he said.

  I got to my feet, still reeling from everything. I hurried back to the bed and breakfast to grab my things.

  “Are you okay?” Jean asked as I rushed past her with my bag.

  “Fine, I won’t be staying after all,” I said.

  “Oh. Well I’m afraid I can’t give you a refund,” she said.

  “Keep it,” I said as I ran back outside.

  On the walk to the diner, I kept glancing over my shoulder, expecting to see someone following me. Which was completely paranoid. Even if someone was after me, how would they know who I was?

  As the diner came into view, I heard what sounded like a dog panting. I turned and sure enough, a large black dog was following me. It must have been part wolf, the look of it.

  “Shoo,” I said.

  The dog growled at me. I took a careful step backward, hoping it didn’t pounce. “Nice doggy,” I said.

  “It’s not a dog, it’s a wolf.”

  I jumped at the voice behind me. I turned and came face to face with a man with long dark hair and a scar across his right eye. “Who are you?” I asked.

  He smiled and put out a hand toward the wolf. It stopped growling and sat down, watching us. The man wasn’t that old, maybe thirty? He did seem strangely familiar to me though. I don’t know how to describe it, but I felt this odd connection to him.

  “I’m Fen. And you are the beautiful Kari.”

  “How do you know my name?”

  “We are kin, you and I. I suppose you are my aunt.”

  Aunt?

  “I-I don’t…you’re related to Francesca?” I asked, completely confused.

  He scoffed at that. “No, I am related to your father.”

  “My father? Who is he? Is he here in town?”

  “No. Your father left many years ago. Now he is…sequestered away in his home, hoping to avoid his fate.”

  “What are you talking about?” I was getting frustrated by his cryptic talk. “Where is my father?”

  A flicker of a smile. “Your father, Odin, is a coward.”

  Odin? That’s what Hank called me. Daughter of Odin.

  “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never met him.”

  “Be thankful of that. But you have your uses. You are coming with me.”

  He reached out to grab my arm, but I quickly backed away. My leg bumped into the wolf and he growled. I could see the diner up ahead. With no other choice, I ran.

  ***

  Sheriff Eaton

  I checked my watch. Where is that girl?

  I considered calling Francesca, but she had been through enough over the years. I would take Kari out of town and she could go back to pretending she didn’t exist. She had managed these past nineteen years and we managed to keep the peace. I didn’t think, or rather I hoped that they would have stopped looking for her.

  The report had come back on the body, it showed advanced decay. It was one of his minions, it had to be. What were they called? Draugrs? Something like that. After everything that happened back then, I did some reading on the subject. I never imagined that any of that was real, but I had my eyes opened.

  Getting up off the stool I was sitting on, I moved to the window to check outside. What I saw chilled me to the bone. Kari running for her life and a wolf hot on her heels.

  I wrenched open the door, drawing my gun. I fired a shot into the air, hoping to drive the beast off, but it didn’t deter it.

  It’s going to get her.

  I saw the desperate, terrified look on her face, t
he same one Francesca had all those years ago.

  When she was a few feet from me, the wolf pounced. Without thinking, I threw myself between them and the wolf’s teeth sank into my flesh.

  Five

  I fell through the door into the mostly empty diner. Scrambling to my feet, I turned to see where the wolf was. Sheriff Eaton lay on the ground, as the wolf chomped down on his arm.

  “No!” I cried. I can’t let it kill him. He saved me.

  The waitress behind the counter appeared to be in a state of shock over what she was seeing. She held a coffee pot in her hand. I grabbed it, checking it was hot and ran outside. I dumped the contents onto the wolf’s head. It yelped in pain and released Sheriff Eaton. It recovered quickly and turned its attention to me.

  I backed away, knowing it could rip my throat out in a heartbeat. “Stay away from me,” I cried.

  As it prepared to lunge at me, two black masses ascended on it, cawing madly. The ravens started to peck at the wolf’s eyes, forcing it to retreat.

  I took the opportunity to half drag Sheriff Eaton into the diner. The wound on his arm was bleeding profusely.

  “I need something to stop the bleeding,” I said to the waitress. She tore her gaze from the wolf and ran into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a clean dish towel.

  I folded it and pressed it against the wound. Sheriff Eaton looked dazed, I wondered if he had hit his head when he fell.

  “Sheriff? Can you hear me?”

  His eyes flickered toward me. “Yes. Damn thing came out of nowhere.”

  “It was with a man. He was commanding it,” I said.

  “You need to get out of here. It isn’t safe,” he said.

  “Yeah, I noticed. Want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Don’t give me that. You know more than you’re letting on.”

  “No, I can’t because I made a promise.”

  “To who?”

  “To me,” a voice said behind me.

  Francesca.

  “Bob, are you okay?” she said, crouching down beside him. She removed the towel to check the arm.