by J. P. Rice
“What the fuck are you talking about? You aren’t going to let me out?” he asked, moving closer to the door.
“Nope. You’ll figure out a way to get out of here. You’re a smart guy. I believe in you,” I told him.
Tyr slammed the door and Mike took two steps closer and smashed his fist against it. Peach Fuzz grabbed ahold of the gate and shook it as he screamed like a maniac, totally ruining my joke. I planned to let him out, and we hadn’t relocked the cell. I just wanted to see him sweat a little and he’d ruined all the fun.
I said, “Stop it. Let him out and let’s get the hell out of here before the wolves figure out you are here.” It hadn’t exactly been a silent escape.
Tyr squinted and his face contorted in confusion. Nobody seemed to get my jokes. He opened the cell door again. “Don’t worry about the wolves. I set a wolfsbane spell that will have them knocked out for the next hour. But if anyone shows up who wasn’t here, we’ll be in for a fight.”
Mike jumped out of the cell with a grin on his face. As I looked around, I realized we were in an off building, not the main house. I stared at a long row of empty jail cells.
I noticed two guards in human form sprawled out on the dirt floor in front of two other cells. A door at the end of the room was beckoning us, promising that safety lay right on the other side of that rectangular piece of wood. I hopped over the wolves and followed Tyr to the door.
He turned the knob and booted open our exit. As I walked through the jamb, I realized this jail was in their backyard, about twenty yards from the main house. More wolves in human form were lying on the ground, totally incapacitated.
I peered over my shoulder and screamed. From behind, Tyr wrapped his powerful arms around me, making me feel safe. Turning again, I counted seven vampires hanging from several oak tree branches. Each vampire had multiple wooden stakes jammed into their chests.
Even from a distance, the starry night provided just enough of a gleam that I could see the blood trickling from the tips of their shoes or boots. Drop by bloody drop, the thick liquid of life fell to the ground, staining Mother Nature’s creation. Each vampire’s face had been mangled beyond recognition. With that said, the wolves probably weren’t done desecrating the bodies.
What on earth was Jonathan thinking? Attacking the wolves on their home turf? It was an outright declaration of war. And it didn’t look like it had gone well. I had to be careful around him.
My knight in shining armor put his hand on the small of my back and gently guided me down a little hill. We passed the house on our right and ran toward a small parking lot of vehicles. Tyr moved ahead of me and headed toward a bright yellow race car. Considering I’d lost my keys, it appeared my Jeep was staying here.
As we got closer to his car, I realized it was a McLaren GT replete with special side panels and a spoiler to counter wind resistance. Tyr lifted the passenger door that opened upward, like a Ferrari or a DeLorean. Like a true gentleman, Tyr helped me into the passenger seat and shut the door behind me.
He walked around to the driver’s side and said, “Sorry, Peach Fuzz. I only brought the two-seater. Good luck getting out of here.”
Mike barely had time to react before Tyr hopped in, started the engine and gave it some gas, releasing the pent-up purr of a thousand angry bobcats. He straightened the car out and got it onto the winding driveway. Tyr flashed the peace sign to Mike, and we were off.
When we hit the final straightaway of the driveway, the engine roared, tires screeched, and my head snapped back, hitting the soft headrest. As Tyr sped out onto the road, I stared at the dashboard that resembled a plane’s cockpit. I agreed to go back to his place because I expected the wolves would be on the prowl for me and I didn’t want to end up like the vampires.
Just when I’d started to doubt whether I could trust Tyr, he’d busted in like a knight in shining armor, ready to slay the dragon. I knew it was silly to think he had set me up. But one never knew whom to trust in this business.
We ended up in Mount Washington, overlooking the entire city, a little while later. We cruised up a steep street, the wide race car tires hugging the road and releasing the slightest hint of a squeal. Tyr pulled into the driveway of a big snow-covered house and pressed a button on the dash.
The garage door opened, and Tyr pulled the McLaren into the hold. The four-car garage housed three other outrageously expensive vehicles. I got out and an overpowering scent of pine tree air freshener attacked my nose.
Tyr stepped out and his fresh cologne counterbalanced the smell and caused me to smile. He took off his golden ring mail jacket and hung it up on the wall. He proceeded to remove a few more pieces of his white-enameled armor and set them on a desk against the wall.
Tyr kicked off his tan battle boots and guided me through a door in the garage. We entered a finished basement that featured a game room with pool tables, arcade games and something that looked like a flight simulator.
A screechy female voice sounded from upstairs. “Where’d ya go?” Tyr had warned me that his girlfriend would be here, but I hadn’t expected her to sound like that.
It was annoying, but a familiar tone that I couldn’t quite place. Tyr didn’t answer as he stomped up the steps. He opened the door, and we entered his kitchen. A young lady with curly black hair and bright red lipstick ran up and wrapped her arms around him. She planted two soft kisses on his perfect lips and gave him a playful slap on his right cheek.
The woman was about my height, although she was in heels. She appeared dressed for the club in a short red leather mini-skirt, a matching suede off shoulder, crop top and flashy jewelry on her wrists and neck. Her pale skin glowed like powerful moonlight, guiding a weary traveler on the darkest of nights. She didn’t seem supernatural, but her cloying perfume could be hiding her magic scent and her radiant aura made me wonder.
Taken aback by my grimy appearance, she turned to Tyr. “Yah supposed to tell me when yah goin’ out, silly. And whom is this?” she spoke with a heavy Long Island accent, gesturing toward me with wide eyes and a quick tip of the forehead.
I could handle the introduction myself. “Hi, my name is Gale. I work in the same business as Tyr.”
“I’m Luna. You sell rare books, too?” she asked, the bridge of her nose wrinkling.
She stepped forward and extended her arm to shake my hand. Embarrassed, I flashed a filthy hand from behind my back momentarily. I shrugged my shoulders, hoping she only saw the dirt and not the crusty blood stains. As soon as she saw my hand, she yanked her arm away and took a step back, moving closer to Tyr.
I lied. “Sure do. And it can be a crazy business, let me tell you.” I took out my phone and pretended to read a text.
Luna pointed at my phone and said, “You should take a pickcha of us and send it to me. I’ll give you my numbah latah. My phone is awl the way upstairs and we just look so good together. It would be a crime not to document it.” She laughed hideously as she moved in closer to Tyr, poked him playfully on the nose and tilted her head against his chest.
Then it hit me. Her accent reminded me of Fran Drescher in The Nanny, even down to the mind numbing, obnoxious eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh machine gun-style laugh. How did Tyr put up with that?
Was she trying to assert her territory? Or was this picture intended to torture me? Forcing me to keep a constant reminder of their relationship. I didn’t want any pictures of Tyr and this skank on my phone. I didn’t want it to remind me of the pain I had to endure with my missing husband.
I slapped on a fake smile. “Sure.” I wasn’t great with all the apps on cell phones, but I knew how to work the camera feature. I snapped a quick pic and Luna made me promise that I would send her a copy when she gave me her phone number.
Tyr wagged a finger at me and suggested, “Why don’t I show you to the guest room, so you can shower? While you clean up, I’ll see if Luna has anything for you to wear.”
Tyr led me through the kitchen and down a hallway. He approached a door at the end
and opened it. The scent of flower petals, cinnamon and vanilla rushed out of the room and danced playfully in my nostrils. Tyr held out his beefy arm, gesturing for me to enter. I grinned and walked through the jamb.
Whoa. My quarters looked like a plush hotel room. The king-sized bed had nearly twenty pillows on it and mahogany nightstands flanked the head. In the corner sat a dresser as tall as me with towels and washcloths on top. Clear glass bowls of fragrant potpourri had been placed on the nightstands and dresser.
Tyr pointed to a door near the dresser. “There is your bathroom. I’ll leave you now, June.”
He bowed his head chivalrously, turned around and left, shutting the door gently on his way out. I had to control myself around Tyr. The more I found out, the more I liked the man. I hated using the P word, but Tyr was as close to perfect as could be.
In the past, I had constantly compared him to my husband. Recently though, I only thought about Tyr. I hadn’t given up on reuniting with my husband, but over the past decade I’d come to peace with the fact that it might not happen. It was the hardest realization I’d ever reached. A necessary one, but earth shattering nonetheless.
Being around Tyr had stirred up some emotions that my old ass hadn’t felt in years. He was the only one who could get my motor running, so to speak. I still wouldn’t cheat on my husband—I didn’t count Zeus’s trickery or what I had to endure when I’d gone undercover in the Red Cavern—but the former Norse God of War was making it difficult.
As I stepped into the foggy mist of the hot shower, I tried to clear my head and think about what had happened. I’d forced my way into the heart of the battle between the vamps and wolf shifters, which now seemed like a terrible move. That evil bitch known as hindsight had reared her ugly head again.
Either Jonathan or Octavius was lying. A strong hunch told me that it was probably both of them. I expected it from Octavius, but not Jonathan.
I still wasn’t any closer to finding Lugh’s Spear and doubted it was around Pittsburgh. Perhaps it was best if I didn’t go on another wild goose chase. But the desire still burned. If I could just bring peace to the vamps and wolves, then return Lugh’s Spear to its rightful owner, the pantheon would have to let me in. They couldn’t deny my noble deeds or overlook me as a God anymore.
I wasn’t exactly off to an auspicious start as peacemaker considering I’d killed a few wolves. In my defense, this is a dog eat dog business and they were trying to kill me too. Slow pokes died first, folks. We could still reach a peace accord, but it would take much more effort to make that happen now. I also had to watch my back for Octavius’ henchmen.
Feeling refreshed, I stepped out of the shower and toweled myself off. As I dried my hair, a silver object on the counter next to the sink caught my eye, and I picked it up. It looked like a trident throwing star to the untrained eye. I knew it as the Helm of Awe, an Icelandic magical stave comprised from Norse rune symbols.
Eight spiked trident-like arms stemmed out from a central point. The arms were Norse Z runes which symbolized protection and victory in battle. Many regarded it as a symbol of protection, while others opined that it represented prevailing over one’s enemies. I set the Helm of Awe back down and used the mouthwash to get some life back in my leathery tongue.
I went back into the bedroom and saw that Tyr had laid out a bathrobe and a pajama top and bottom for me. I ran my fingers through my frizzy hair and felt a rush of cold air brush over my bare shoulders. I wheeled around and saw Tyr standing at the open door.
He asked, “Is everything all right, my dear?”
I made sure the towel was covering my lady bits and tried to slow down my racing heart. “Just fine. Thanks again.”
Tyr walked in and shut the door behind him, causing my heart to skip a beat. I stood in place, frozen by his magnificence and fearful of my impulses.
His soft words broke the warm silence, “I’m pretty sure those will fit you.” He pointed at the pajamas, but I couldn’t avert my gaze from his full lips.
An awkward bout of sexual tension ensued as we stared lustfully into each other’s eyes. I turned and ran my hand through my wet hair again, trying to turn down the temperature of the moment. I asked, “So have you been back to Midgard lately?”
Tyr walked over to the dresser and played with pieces of potpourri as he spoke, “Not in a long time, actually. Odin put a bounty on my head last time I was there. That stupid geezer. He’s absolutely insane these days, June. You wouldn’t believe it.”
“So you don’t know what is going on anymore?”
“No. I talk to Loki every great once in a while. As far as I know, Odin is beyond repair.”
I asked, “So who is the heir right now? Does he still go back and forth between Loki and Thor depending on which one gets on his nerves? Not quite fair to Thor considering he’s Odin’s son.”
Tyr sniffed a busted cinnamon stick and tossed it back in the bowl. “He apparently got pissed at Thor a while back and denounced his right to the throne, naming Loki in his stead. Well, Thor didn’t take too kindly to that and took off for Midgard. That was about two years ago, and nobody has seen him since. I assumed there would at least be a spotting or two during that time, but he seems to have up and vanished in a cloud of smoke.”
I didn’t want to tell him about how Thor had been spotted in Pittsburgh. “So Loki is set to take over as the King of the Gods?”
“So it should seem,” he said, leaning against the dresser. “I’ve talked to some other people from Asgard that are a bit worried about the God of Mischief becoming the supreme Norse ruler.”
I could understand that notion considering I hated Loki. “I thought you were good friends with him. If he takes over, he could reinstall you into the pantheon again.”
Tyr drummed the side of the dresser with two fingers as he spoke, “Tragically, that ship has sailed, June. Besides, I barely talk to Loki anymore. I doubt he would take sympathy on me. I’ve moved on and there is no going back.”
“I understand that. I don’t know why I keep messing around with the Celtic Gods.”
“You and me both. The best advice I can give you is stay away from the spear. Is the bed to your liking?” asked Tyr as he cocked his head to the side.
“I suppose. I haven’t really checked it out.” Holding the towel carefully, I shimmied up onto the bed and lay my head back on the heavenly soft pillows.
Before I could blink, Tyr was sitting on the edge of the bed, his kissable face inches from mine, causing feelings deep, deep inside that I shouldn’t be having. He smiled, his arm falling harmlessly to his side and landing on my forearm, striking a match that had been reserved for only one man.
He rubbed my elbow with his thumb and I arched my back in reaction. It was creepy when Lauren had done it, but Tyr’s gentle touch felt so right.
Tyr leaned down, and I thought he was going to kiss me, but he turned at the last moment and brushed his cheek against mine. His facial hair was at that perfect length between being skin-shredding stubble and limp shag carpeting. It bristled over my ear, tossing the match onto a pile of recently gathered kindling.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Tyr whispered in my ear, his warm breath dancing seductively on my neck, driving me crazy. “If you ever decide to give up on Darabond. Mind you, I’m not suggesting that remotely. But if you do, you’ll have men lining up to be with you. And I’ll come in and kill every, single, one of those men. And there I shall stand, waiting patiently for your honor.”
His full lips hit my neck, right below my ear and it felt like my body was about to explode. I planted my right heel in the mattress and pushed against it, pulling away from Tyr. Undeterred, he moved down and left a soft kiss on my bare shoulder. The kindling crackled under the unrelenting force of the heat, the flames licking higher with each passing moment and playfully kissing the split logs, tempting them to take part in the warm fun.
After one more peck with his silky-smooth lips, my impulses kick
ed in. I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair, digging my nails into his scalp. Caught up in the moment, my body throbbing with passion, I pulled his face toward mine. Our lips met, and my entire body buzzed with pure unadulterated pleasure.
He ran his hand up my side, and even with the thick towel covering me, it sent shock waves up my spine. His hand stopped on the side of my chest, his thumb resting teasingly against the bottom of my boob. A can of gasoline fell into the fire, instantly exploding into enormous flames.
Our tongues mingled with each other and I never wanted the moment to end. He pulled back and smiled, fanning the flames of unbridled passion. He tugged at the towel covering me and I arched my back to help him get it off.
Out of nowhere, images of my Darabond flooded into my head, dumping a bathtub of ice water on my internal fire. Tyr leaned in for a kiss and I turned to the side. His lips mashed into my cheek.
“We need to stop now,” I whispered and adjusted my towel.
I expected an argument, but the gentleman popped up from the bed. “No rush.” He walked elegantly over to the door, opened it and turned to face me. “I’ll always be here.” He bowed his head, shut the door, and I was alone again.
Forever alone.
I took a few deep breaths, my chest still buzzing out of control with excitement. That could have gotten out of hand quickly. After two-hundred years of pent up sexual frustration, I couldn’t believe I was the one who stopped it from happening. With my skin still sizzling in anticipation that would remain unfulfilled, I used the towel to fan myself off.
I heard a thump against the door and sat up in bed. I reached down and picked the robe up off the floor. Silently sliding out of bed, I slipped on the robe and tied it securely as I crept toward the door. “Hello? Is someone there?” I called.
“Come in, I’d like to,” uttered a familiar voice. I recognized the gruff tone and the Yoda speech pattern.
A nostalgic smile spread across my face. I opened the door and saw the Hound of Pittsburgh in all his glory, his obsidian coat shining under the hall lights. “Come on in, buddy.”