Hammer of the Gods

by B. D. MacCallum

  Then I was in a garden of some sorts. A beautiful angel told me the man would keep a Promise to me that would remove the sadness from his eyes, forever.

  After she read those words, Iona held the book to her bosom and sighed. A single tear of joy trickled down her cheek. She picked up her pen and made one final entry in the saved spaced below, then closed the book.

  It took almost nine years for Thor Odinsson to make that promise to me. But he did!

  Epilogue

  Synchrony

  Balder Odinsson’s ears were still ringing as he guided his family from the backstage area to the waiting limousine. He had promised his son, Thor, the best thirteenth birthday ever; thanks to two blessed souls, Charlotte Kohl and Steve Dozer, he delivered.

  “Did you hear Gwen say I was cute?” Thor asked, his face beaming with a wide smile, clutching onto the leather jacket as if it were a life raft in rough seas.

  “I did,” Balder replied, beaming with pride, remembering his crush on a sultry brunette with the sweetest singing voice he had ever heard. She still had it, though his heart now belonged to another. His eyes locked onto his wife, Giselle. She returned the glance with an all knowing smirk, then shook her head, while mouthing the word “Boys” in such a way, she may have actually read his mind.

  “She obviously has great taste,” Giselle said, wrapping a loving arm around their son’s shoulders, giving him a kiss on the top of his head.

  “She must’ve forgotten her glasses,” Chelsea said with a loud laugh.

  “Chelsea!” Traci chided her daughter. “Just for one night, could you not tease Thor so much?”

  “If I don’t tease him, he’ll think I’ve stopped liking him.” Chelsea bumped shoulders with Thor.

  “That’s alright, Aunt Traci. Chelsea’s just angry because I caught her kissing Jimmy Gunkle.”

  “Ugh! I did not!” Chelsea shouted. “Mom!”

  Balder suppressed a laugh. Giselle thought he was condoning the children’s actions enough, as it were. The last thing he needed to do was add fuel to the fire. He arched an eyebrow, reconsidering that thought, remembering how quickly her French temper could turn from anger to a night filled with passion. “Are you sure you don’t want me to carry the guitar case, Chelsea? It looks heavy.”

  Chelsea held the handle in her white-knuckled fist. “Thanks, Uncle Baldur, but I’ve got it.”

  Then a familiar sound that definitely did not belong amid the clatter of the road crew, spun Baldur’s head around like he had been slapped in the face. His eyes darted until he found from which direction the sound came. He kissed Giselle’s cheek. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Is everything alight, my love?” Giselle asked, her lovely brow furrowed.

  Gods, but you get more beautiful every day! Baldur flashed a quick smile. “Of course. I just heard an old friend, and just wanted to say hello.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “ I swear, we could go to the moon, and you’d run into someone you knew. Don’t be too long.” She gave him the look that said she meant every word.

  “Be back in a minute,” he said jogging off.

  For a man under forty, Balder Odinsson had lived more, done more and seen more than men twice his age. His father barely survived being hunted by Nazis, and dedicated his life to return an amulet to the Gods before a mythical creature kills them all. His mother sacrificed her life for his, literally. His stepmother led an elite team of mercenaries to kill his father, then killed them instead. He married the most beautiful woman in the world that bore him the perfect son. He survived a parachute failure during a plane crash, nearly drowning during a rafting expedition, and walked away from a crash that shredded his race car like confetti. So, at this point in his life, he thought nothing life threw his way could surprise him.

  He was wrong!

  He side-stepped to avoid being run over by roadies, as they wheel huge speaker toward a tractor-trailer. He rounded the corner of the building to see Steve and Charlotte, sitting in a 1970 Plymouth Hemi ‘Cuda. From the expressions on their faces, they were just as shocked to see him, as he was to see them.

  The Plum Crazy paint and white Hemi accents on the quarter panels were too clean and bright to be original. It had wide tires for racing, and bright-red brake calipers visible between the spokes of the classic Cragar Super Sport chrome rimes. The distinct sound of her supercharged Hemi engine rumbling through three inch pipes like a lioness in heat was curious, considering no supercharger protruded from the hood, just the shaker scoop vibrating like made.

  Balder would bet the business away, if he peered under the car, it resembled a formula one racer than more than aging muscle-car. He also suspected to find the low-profile supercharger and carburetors he designed under the hood. Curious indeed, considering no one in the world shared that knowledge with him, except his son, and that boy could keep a secret better than the C.I.A.. Grandma Julia taught him well!

  “Sweet car,” he said to the wide-eyed couple, as he leaned against the door, noting all the vinyl had been replaced with white leather, the headliner silk. The superb stitching on the padded black-leather dash, polished walnut instrument panel and trim all but had Richie Pok’s signature scrolled on them. This is getting more interesting by the second!

  “Thanks, Mister Odinsson,” Steve said with a smile. “I just got her done a few weeks ago.” He stuffed a bite of burger in his mouth. How either of them hadn’t slipped into a Thanksgiving-day-coma, was astounding; considering the massive amount of food they’ve eaten in the past few hours.

  “Does she have a name?” He scanned the interior with an engineer’s eye. He could not have done a better job himself; everything was exactly where he’d have it. In fact, if not for the difference in color, it mirrored Ann so well, it could be her twin.

  “Nancy,” Steve said with pride.

  Balder mulled the name over in his head, finally nodding. “It fits,” he said with a nod. “How is Richie? And how the hell did you get him to work on your car?”

  Steve’s eyes lit-up with what could only be described as amusement. “He's doing great. And I’ve been your biggest fan, since I was a little kid. But, I think the six-month’s-salary was the deal-maker.” He was trying to hide some sort of electronic screen, connected to the dashboard under the radio by a thin wire, under his thigh.

  Just wait until I see that little weasel! “I see.” Baldur nodded toward the limousine. “We’re taking the kids out for a late dinner, and plenty of ice cream. You two are more than welcome to come along. It’s the least I can do to repay for all you’ve done.”

  Charlotte glanced at her watch. “A concert, late dinner and ice cream. You deserve the ‘Dad of the year’ award.” The dark-haired woman had a Russian accent; her dark eyes twinkling as she smiled. It was the first time he had seen the woman without those dark sunglasses. He had the feeling the woman was pretty, and he was right.

  Baldur laughed. “Hey, they turn thirteen only once.”

  Steve grasped Baldur’s hand in a firm grip. “You are a great dad.” The man’s light-blue eyes seemed to see into Baldur’s soul.

  “I wish we could join you,” Charlotte said. “It sounds like fun.”

  “But I’ve got to get to bed soon,” Steve added. “I’m getting married in the morning.”

  “You should’ve spent tonight at a bachelor party, not working and escorting my family around all night.”

  When Steve smiled, he was the spitting image of Baldur’s grandfather, Odin. “There’s no place on earth I’d rather be, tonight.”

  Baldur cleared his throat. “There’s no way I can thank the two of you enough for this evening.”

  “You just did,” Steve said, and Charlotte nodded her agreement.

  “Good luck,” Balder said, shaking their hands. Then he placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “If your bride is half the woman Giselle is, you’re a very lucky man.” He backed away from the car.

  “The luckiest in the world,” Steve said, pulling away. C
harlotte leaned to kiss Steve’s cheek.

  It was at that moment, Balder Odinsson saw his place in the universe’s grand plan, and why he couldn’t remember drafting the blueprints for an atomic separator he found in his workshop the other day. He had thought it his most brilliant work, ever! Now, he understood it wasn’t an alternative fuel source, it was much, much more!

  Baldur watched the car disappear in traffic. “Happy birthday, Thor,” he whispered with a smile. “Your mother and I love you with all of our hearts!”

  Baldur jogged back to the limousine, his mind racing a mile a minute. He had had a bomb to build before he and Giselle went to pick up her birthday gift in Denver. Then he was going to kill a monster for his father.

  The End