“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Ask Ymir about that. He, too, turned to wickedness and finds himself yet absent.”
Hel attempted to calm her rising temper. Anger would cause more wrath, and it was best to deal with Odin using cold, calculating moves. “If you shall send me back to Midgard, then please allow me to say goodbye to my dear brother,” she said.
Odin nodded and had Kara transport her to the stalls where the eight-legged steed stood, alert, his coat shiny gray. Hel walked over to him and held out her hand.
“Why are you touching the All-Father’s steed?”
“Only as a greeting.” Hel began to hum a song that their father had sung to them when they were small children. The words seemed poignant. They’d never been freer than before they’d come to Asgard. “Do you know where the whistle blows, the wind beneath the hawk’s wings? Do you know where the sky ends and the earth shall meet? Do you know where the whistle blows as the earth trembles beneath our feet? Do you know what it means to finally be free?”
Sleipnir neighed.
“Dear Sleipnir,” she said and rubbed him on his nose. His clear and bright eyes watched her.
“All right, that’s enough,” barked Kara. “The All-Father has spoken. You must return to Midgard.”
Hel nodded, and with one last touch, conveyed the message to her only kin still in Asgard—Help us all be free, dear brother. Send the key. Family above all.
She turned and walked away. If Odin wanted war, then war he would get.
Who cared about some future Ragnarok? He should be more afraid of Hel’s fury.
Chapter 2
Thor, Asgard
“For what you have done, there must be consequences!” Odin’s voice boomed. Veins popped out of his neck and forehead, and the walls began to shake and quake.
In the throne room, Odin clenched his spear and focused, and Thor stood laughing before him. His unruly auburn shoulder-length locks fluttered with each movement as his mirth caused his entire body to ripple and shake. His riotous laughter erupted and echoed off the walls and silver ceiling.
“Surely, Father, you would not expect me to leave my brother’s happiness to chance.”
“What you have started is war between the pantheons.”
“Come now, even you must find the joy in that. It will win you more elite soldiers for Valhalla, and we can have a good time killing each other and resurrecting ourselves at the end of the day. It can be a game of chess, just with half-living men.”
“You jest, at a time of crisis. Baal even now threatens to align with the Egyptians to further this debacle of nonsense based on one god’s inability to keep his blade sheathed.”
“Actually, I don’t think that Baldr would like you talking about his Nanna that way.”
Thor grinned. Everyone deserved happiness, and with Baldr now having found it with the woman he’d chosen, Nanna the Carthaginian, he knew that Odin’s disapproval loomed. One Asgard Over All seemed to be his motto.
“Do you wish me to go out and sacrifice myself to a tree for you to gain the wisdom of the heart?”
“You are a nitwit.”
“I am a romantic, with a mighty hammer.”
“Fool. Why would love be worth fighting a war for? It doesn’t even guarantee that the most elite soldiers will be used.”
“Maybe you can talk the Egyptians into using mercenaries—they might be elite enough for you.”
“What are you two talking about now?” Freyja interjected and placed her hand on Odin’s shoulder.
“Dear wife, our son is trying to convince me that the treason he committed for Baldr should go unpunished.”
Freyja nodded. Her golden hair framed her face and she squinted at Thor.
Thor grimaced. Freyja was his stepmother, but he loved her well enough. They’d sort of made peace. She continued to be kind, and he tried never to be an ass in front of her.
“My love,” she began, “your fear of Ragnarok only brings it ever closer. There is something looming if you should go through with what your pride has called injury.”
“It is not my pride, but treason must be atoned for.”
“Atonement now? What sacrifice are you requiring for this?” Freyja asked.
Thor watched her slightly shake her head, signaling for him to be quiet. He didn’t mind. Freyja always knew how to get the All-Father to listen, something no one else could seem to do. He was tone-deaf, but since he’d drank so much of the mead of wisdom, no one could convince him that his visions caused the reality to grow ever stronger.
“I have made up my mind, and you are to serve a period in Midgard, away from us.”
“I’m to be exiled?”
“And who shall fight the giants?” Freyja asked and took a seat on the edge of Odin’s throne.
“Woman, get up. This is not a game of chairs. I am seated here and know my mind. No, he is to leave my sight until I so determine he will return.”
“Yes, Father,” Thor said.
“Freyja, have Heimdell prepare the gate.”
“You will just send Thor there?” Freyja asked.
“Yes,” Odin said, “and dear, you are to choose the time. With your gift of prophecy, you should know at least when he should go.”
Thor nodded again. It was enough to have to worry about different times in Midgard, especially when outside of Midgard time was all the same—there was a line that they would constantly jump over from the dawn until the never-ending spectrum that was the dooming of mankind. Of course, he had no idea when that would be and didn’t care. He would always protect mankind, even if his father deemed him to be more useful there than here.
“Before you leave, dear son, your hammer,” Odin ordered.
“My what?”
“Hammer.”
“What am I without my hammer?” Thor asked. He dropped Mjölnir, and watched it crack the throne room floor.
“A god with a huge appetite. I suggest you try to figure out the rest.”
Thor watched the All-Father retreat into his private quarters. Once the door closed, Freyja moved to his side.
“Thor, do not be upset with your father. He is feeling hurt by Baldr’s betrayal, and your damaging the floor has not helped.”
Thor clenched his jaw. “There was no betrayal. Baldr did what was right, as Father has always shown us to do.
“Here.” She passed him an Odin stone—a stone with a naturally occurring hole in it. “You are to head to a different time than Baldr’s, for your help is needed.” She pressed the light turquoise stone in his palm. “Remember, use the stone. Nothing is as it seems. Nothing is what it says it is. You will need to be a hero for Midgard as at no time ever before. I suggest you gird yourself up, for this will be your toughest battle yet.”
“I fear nothing,” Thor said. He crossed his arms in defiance. Fear was for weaklings. He’d brought down the largest of giants with one mighty swing of his hammer. Who should he fear? No, they should all fear him.
“Maybe, but she will make you fear everything.”
Chapter 3
Sif, Richmond, VA
In the gym, I flipped and tumbled, enjoying the comforting sound of my feet hitting the mat. Chalk covered my hands, and the dust had found a way to cover all of my kit. I pushed myself to go harder, further, and higher. Music played from the ancient portable CD player, echoing throughout the room. My body moved like a well-greased engine, each component controlled by muscle memory. My stamina needed work and when my breathing came harder, I pushed back. I pulled down the bright red wristbands over my wrists and took a deep breath.
This was my place. The place where I could be great and cut through the air around me. Nothing stood in my way, neither fear nor a perception of it. I refused to stop moving. The more I flexed my muscles, the more they longed for me to go harder, faster and break through an invisible ceiling.
Something was coming.
The hairs on the back of neck rose, and a chill produced goose flesh on
my bare arms. I tried to shrug it off.
What do you want most of all?
The thought came out of nowhere. Today I had to fight to stay ready for whatever might come. My fingertips tingled.
Dread filled me. Maybe I’d been doing gymnastics and been in training since I was four for a bigger reason. A purpose even and if I applied that to my parkour bad-assery, if nothing else, I could flip off buildings and make a dashing escape in a city.
I chuckled at that. Thor’s amulet thudded back into place between my sports bra and skin. A hallowed gipt, or gift from Freyja. Weirdly enough, henotheism didn’t require me to take allegiance to any one deity. I chose with whom I sought allegiance.
“Sif!” And there Harley stood, tall and strong. His college clothes had been traded in for something a little more designer, his longish jet-black hair trimmed and spiked on top. “Thought I’d find you here.” His gregarious smile made me smile back.
His kindness always chased any apprehension away. It didn’t matter if he asked about class notes, had advice about on-campus issues, or just wanted to chill with me and my friends. He’d always been a good guy. He reminded me of a day at the beach—relaxed, warm, and inviting.
I flinched, though, when I saw the woman he was with. She was porcelain-pale, dressed all in black, and in her late thirties or early forties. Her appearance was perfection. If I stared too long, I might have to start asking for fashion and makeup advice, both things I shunned. Emili, our mutual friend, had told me Harley had found love; I just never thought it was with an older woman. But I could support that; love was love, and everyone deserved to be happy.
“Hey,” I said and walked over to where they stood. “What’s going on?”
“Did Emili speak with you about house-sitting for us?”
“Hi, I’m Sif,” I said, clapped the chalk off my hands, and stretched one forth.
She looked down at my hand and frowned.
“Sorry about that. Gymnastics requires the chalk.”
“That is not a problem. I am Helen,” she said.
“Hel? Nice to meet you.”
“No, not Hel, but Helen.” She reached out and clasped my hand in hers, and I watched as sparks began to fly and for a moment, her appearance changed. No longer was there a glamour there, but a woman who appeared to be split in two—half white, and half decomposing flesh. I tried to jump back, but she held on tightly. “This is an interesting surprise,” she said, a mischievous smile lighting up her face, and a questioning glint appearing in her cold blue eyes. I recognized who she was immediately. I tried to quash any semblance of recognition.
“Maybe your calling me Hel was a slip. I like it, and so you shall call me by my name. So, will you be able to watch the house? I know this is last minute, but we can pay you to be there.”
“I’ll have to think about it. How much are we talking about, and for how long?”
“One week and five hundred dollars. But if you are not interested, I can ask one of your friends. You can stop by today and see the house and let me know there.”
My mouth almost dropped open at the mention of the money. It would take me two weeks to make that much at my two jobs. “Of course.”
“Good, good,” Hel said. “Please stop by after you get cleaned up and I can show you everything at the house. You aren’t afraid of dogs, are you?”
“No, I get along with them well.”
“Great, Garmr will be happy to have the companionship for the week.”
All types of red lights were flashing. Could this Hel be the Lady Hel and Garmr her faithful dog? Oh my God, I was about to house-sit for the ruler of Helheim?
“Give us a moment, Hel,” Harley said.
“Sure,” she said.
“I can see that you have a lot of questions, and I can also tell that something is going on by the look on your face.”
“I’m not sure how to put this without seeming crazy.”
Harley smiled. “You are a gem. No worries. She is a good woman, and there is a lot we need to catch up on. Remember how I always said something was off about me? I finally found out what, and I’ll tell you more tonight. Not here but at the house, okay?”
My skin prickled as if I was about to step into a poltergeist moment, willing to freely enter into a Hell-house, all because one of my best friends told me it was okay.
“I’ve never given you a reason not to trust me over these last few years, right?”
“That’s true. Some strange stuff has been going on, and I can’t explain it.”
“Seems like we’ve been friends so long because this strangeness is what brought us together in the first place.”
I wondered how true that was. Could it be that the reason I was with all of my friends was because of what the gods had planned for me?
For a moment, I thought back. I’d been visiting Asgard since I was four. Freyja was my imaginary friend. We’d played on the golden fields of Fólkvangr, where we’d sit and talk after she welcomed soldiers into death. It took a while before I understood that Odin received half of the honorable dead and Freyja the other half, but what was a girl to do with all of these honorable, yet dead, honorary aunts and uncles? I also couldn’t forget the majestic Valkyrie, who loved nothing more than war and tea parties—we’d train to fight and then giggle, because that was what little girls did.
Of course, it started with me befriending Freyja’s cats, those who pulled her grand chariot, and even petting her boar, Hildisvíni, who loved to nuzzle my hand, especially if I had a treat hidden inside of it. But it was the friendship of Hnoss and Gersemi, her two daughters, that always made me smile. Who was to say that their imaginary tea parties weren’t real, and they didn’t have guests who were indeed gods?
When I told my mother, though, about the strange woman with the golden hair and the mortally wounded soldiers who appeared and played with me on a golden field, she took me from one doctor to the next, until they all told her I just had an active imagination. Of course, my mother wasn’t satisfied with that and took me then to the local priest, who diagnosed me with demonic possession. Images of Asgard disappeared for a time, and I was locked away in this world unable to learn that which I felt called to. Instead, I pursued sports, activities that the gods had introduced me to. But it wasn’t until high school and I was in ninth grade, that the bond was once again formed thanks to a humanities class.
Something odd then happened.
Every religion has its rituals, and for years I walked in accordance with what my family wanted, until one day as I lay in bed, the closet door cracked open and out Freyja walked. She took a seat on my bed and I felt the mattress give under her weight.
“My dear Sif, it is time,” she said.
“Time for what?”
“For the beginning of destiny.”
That’s when the fight training began again, and I learned the art of death.
I nodded at Harley. He was a keeper of a friend and if he said that Lady Hel was worth trusting, then I had no reason not to believe him, right?
Chapter 4
Thor, off the coast of modern Norway
Thor sat in his boat with a fishing pole hung over the side and waited. The waters lapped at the boat’s edge, and rocked it to and fro. Seagulls shouted from above, and although he could hear the loud bell buoys in the distance, he concentrated on the water’s movement.
His stomach growled.
“Living here, it will take more than a goat to fill me up,” he muttered. He’d picked up a goat on the way to the coast, and its severed head bounced up and down with the ocean’s waves as bait. The rest was already digesting in his stomach.
“I liked it more when Midgard wasn’t as busy,” he muttered, watching a large cruise ship in the distance cut through the water at an unhealthy pace, at least too fast for what he enjoyed most about being on the water—the hunt.
Deep within its depths rested what his anger needed.
He clenched his jaw and waited for something t
o bite. A small nibble and he’d catch it and use it as bait until he found what he was really looking for.
A fight.
“Where are you, you bloody Jörmungandr? Here I am now, ready for you to try your spit and viciousness.”
Jörmungandr, the Midgard Serpent. Since as far back as he could recall, he’d been warned of Jörmungandr’s prophetic call to kill him, and he it. The prophecy fueled their rivalry, and to be honest, he didn’t really know much about the beast.
Nor did he want to.
The more he stared at the water, the angrier he became. Not at Jörmungandr for not appearing, but at his father for tossing him out of Asgard. He’d been the hero of Asgard for ages, defending the gods against the Jötnar, the giants who’d not been allowed into Asgard, and this was his thanks.
“A blood-thirsty god gets upset at war!” He spat into the water.
“Is that sacrifice for me?” Njord asked, standing to the side of Thor’s boat. His magnificent cloak, ornamented with shiny seabream scales, fluttered behind him. His long black hair was crowned with seashells and blue sea stars and weaved together with gold, all to symbolize his status as god of the sea.
“If I hadn’t seen those pretty feet, I’d never have known it was you,” Thor said. “What brings you here?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Sure, it’s not like you have a care in the world and nothing more than time, right?”
Thor chuckled. “Glad you could show up. Can tell me where my friend is?”
“What foolishness are you doing here?” Njord stared at the bobbing goat head. “Is that supposed to appear appetizing for him?
“Since you know every inch of these waters, maybe you can tell me where I need to go.”
“Where the prettiest woman awaits? Are you looking for a land-dweller or a lady more like the fair Margyr, who continues to ask about you?”
He’d been seduced, oh so long ago, by Margyr’s mermaid song. When she’d appeared, it had been to tell him of a storm, but that was many moons ago.
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