by ST Bende
With the visions under some theoretical semblance of control, I decided to blow off some steam with a girl’s day.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Inga’s driving always made me nervous. Ull’s super-hot roommate and second-oldest friend was good at a lot of things: baking, fashion, decorating, pretty much every sport, and keeping Ull’s temper in check, but driving under the speed limit wasn’t one of them. She took the winding turns out of Cardiff way too quickly, settling onto the motorway with a satisfied expression. My mind had finally wrapped itself around the fact that Norse gods were adrenaline junkies. My stomach was going to need more convincing.
“It should take about an hour to get there. I want to show you one of my favorite things about living as a human.”
“I’d like to be a living human when we get there,” I muttered.
“Ha, ha. Don’t worry, I promised Ull I’d bring you home in one piece.”
“Corpses come in one piece.” My grousing fell on deaf ears.
Exactly twenty-seven minutes later we pulled up to a racetrack. “OK, what’s going on?”
“It’s race day!” Inga was giddy. “The F3 series is here.” She stepped out of the car, and I hurriedly followed. My equilibrium couldn’t handle another minute in the passenger’s seat.
“So you like NASCAR?” My knowledge of racing was limited to that movie about Ricky Bobby. And the Disney cartoon about cars.
“It’s not NASCAR.” She rolled her eyes at my ignorance. “It’s Formula 3. Open-wheel racing. It’s like an entry version of your Indy Car.”
“Oh,” I feigned recognition.
“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
“Not a clue.”
“You’ll learn.” Inga tossed her hair and walked toward the grandstand. “I have an eternity to teach you.”
We made our way through the concessions line before settling into our seats.
“So you’re, uh, a car fan?”
“Yes.” Inga’s delighted laughter attracted the attention of several men nearby. They eyed her appreciatively. “I love driving, and I’d love to race. But as I’m sure Ull told you, we’re supposed to stay under the radar. We certainly couldn’t enter a competition like this without being noticed. Obviously, we’d take the pole.”
“Of course.” So the prize was a pole. I’d expected something fancier.
“So I just watch. Gunnar and Ull have their rugby and I have this. Besides, now I have the chance to talk to you alone.”
“Shoot.” I sipped my soda.
“Kristia, you’re the Seer! That’s a huge deal. How are you dealing with it?”
I jumped when the cars started their engines on the track, a dozen or so claps of thunder just ten yards away. “It’s fine.”
“Kristia…”
Truthfully, I wasn’t entirely sure what it all meant. “What?”
“You’re the Seer.”
“I know.” I tried not to twitch. “It’s a big to do, my mental problem’s going to get a lot worse, and now I have to have some stupid bodyguard follow me around twenty-four hours a day.”
“Of course you do.” Inga scrunched her impeccably groomed eyebrows together. “You’re the Seer.”
“So?”
“What do you mean, ‘so’? Has anyone explained to you what you are? I mean, really sat you down and explained it to you?”
“I’ve got the general idea.”
“Do you really?”
“Okay, no.”
“Here’s the deal. Yours was the very first prophecy the Three Sisters ever made, before Ragnarok, before the Jotun Rebellion, before any of it. They predicted someone would come with all-powerful sight—the ability to predict the future, see the past, and know everything happening in all the realms in the present. And that person would be able to protect their allies against any attack. Forever.”
“And they decided this person would be a human?” These sisters must not have been the sharpest crayons in the box.
“No. The prophecy wasn’t specific, but we all kind of figured they were talking about an Aesir.”
“An Aesir?”
“The main gods in Asgard: Odin, Balder, Thor… their group.” Inga shrugged.
“Got it.”
“But time went on and nobody fulfilled the prophecy. We didn’t exactly forget about it, but we started to wonder if they’d been wrong. It’s been millennia.”
“Did you ever think to look in another realm?” Though it seemed unlikely the Norns would have chosen a fire giant for a peacekeeping job.
“No. They’ve never given such an important prophecy to someone who wasn’t an Aesir or a Vanir.”
“Vanir?” I asked.
“The next rung of gods. The rest of us.”
“Oh.”
“Thank Odin Ull found you. You have to become a goddess to fulfill your prophecy.”
“Right.” I sighed. “And I get a bodyguard.”
“That’s what’s bugging you? Not being hunted into perpetuity by every enemy of Asgard?”
Well, now that she mentioned it…
“I know you don’t want a guard, but you’re ridiculously valuable. Odin will make sure you’re taken care of.”
“Sure. Some stranger’s going to follow me around twenty-four-seven, know everything I do and report back to management. Fantastic.”
“It’s a lot of change, isn’t it?” Inga squeezed my hand, her soft voice somehow carrying over the thrum of the engines below.
“It’s fine.” I stared at the cars. “So who’s it going to be?”
Inga watched the cars with me. “It was going to be Skadi.”
“What?” I exploded. “Skadi, the girl Thor wanted Ull to marry—that Skadi? Shadowing everything I do?” My feathers were in a full-on fluff.
“Don’t be so dramatic.” Inga rolled her eyes. “I told him that wasn’t going to work. I wouldn’t let my best friend get stuck with a dark troll.”
“You know Skadi?” I asked.
“Of course. I’m her trainer.”
“Like at the gym?”
“No, silly. You know how we all have assignments back in Asgard?” Inga shifted to get a better look at the track.
“Yes.”
“Gunnar’s an assassin, Ull’s God of Winter, and I’m a tactical advisor to the warriors. I orchestrate their fight sequences and train the warriors to execute them.”
“Seriously?” Inga was a tough cookie, but I’d had no idea.
“Yes. I’d rather be a fighter, but it makes Dad too nervous. So he asked Odin to put me in a non-combat position with the warriors.”
“Do you work with Skadi?” I asked.
“Ugh. Skadi’s in my training group, and she is a piece of work.” Inga didn’t take her eyes off the track. One of the cars shifted to pass another and nearly hit the wall as it went by. Jeez.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, besides being ridiculously impressed with herself, she’s madder than a fire giant in Jotunheim.”
“Why?”
“Who knows?” Inga shrugged. “She’s always been crazy. And she’s always had a weird thing for Ull. Don’t worry,” she added when I bristled. “He’s never been into her. Like, ever.”
“Good.” It was hard not to be insecure about the warrior goddess Thor wanted to marry his son.
“But because she’s so uppity and crazy, and because she somehow thinks she’s entitled to Ull, I told Dad she wasn’t a good candidate for your bodyguard position. He thought she’d be perfect, that she could pretend to be a co-ed and go to class with you. Yeah, right. There’s nothing collegiate about that mountain goat.”
I giggled. “So she didn’t get the job?”
“Nope. I heard she was really mad about it, too. She probably thought if she were that close to Ull, she’d win him over or something.” Inga leaned over and slapped my hand away from my face. “Kristia! Don’t bite your nails this close to your wedding!”
“Bodyguard. And I don’t know. I wish it could be me.”
“Why can’t it be?” That was a great idea. Inga and I already spent loads of time together. If I had to have someone following me around, it may as well have been someone I enjoyed hanging out with.
“Too dangerous.” Her hair shook around her shoulders. “Dad’s convinced that every dark elf in the cosmos is going to come after you the minute your identity comes out. And he doesn’t want me standing in their way. Kristia! Nails! Nobody’s going to get you. Ull won’t let them.”
“Right.” I gripped my cup to keep my hands busy. “So you’re sure there was never anything between Skadi and Ull?”
“I’m sure. Honestly, Kristia, he never looked twice at anybody before he met you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Seriously. After his dad died, he couldn’t handle the thought of losing anyone else.”
“Well, he’s never getting rid of me.”
“I know.” Inga leaned forward in her seat as two cars spun out. A man on the track waved a yellow flag and the racers slowed down. “And you’re never getting rid of me. It’s been an eternity of exhaustion taking care of the boys by myself. Did I tell you what Gunnar did to my new paring knife?”
She started the latest in a series of tales of Gunnar destroying her beloved kitchenware. I let my mind focus on Inga’s domestic difficulties while the cars moved slowly around the wreck. I could think about my worries another day.
Chapter Five
WHEN I GOT BACK to my flat, my roommates were lying in wait.
“Where have you been?” Victoria sat in the armchair in our small living area, staring at the door like an annoyed parent. Her chic chestnut hair was fixed into a sleek bob, and she twirled her stiletto-clad foot at the ankle. Even relaxing at home, my fashion-major flatmate managed to look like she just stepped off the runway.
With a glance at the clock in the entryway, I closed the front door behind me. “It’s five-thirty. We aren’t supposed to leave for dinner until six. You know I’d never miss Curry Thursday.”
That was a lie. I’d have given my eyeteeth to have Chow Mein Thursday, but Cardiff was disappointingly devoid of good Chinese restaurants. It was an outright sin.
“Yes, well, I’ve got some wedding designs to go over with you. And Emma has been waiting all afternoon to try her Hair Helper.”
“Hair Helper?”
“Yes. Finally! Jeez, took you long enough. Come on, we only have thirty minutes until we have to leave.” Emma flew down the hallway, her crimson hair streaming behind her. I caught a glimpse of the strange contraption in her hand as she dragged me into her bedroom. She shoved me down onto her bed and climbed up after me, pulling the elastic out of my ponytail.
“What are you doing?” I tried to crane my neck but she held my head in place with a surprisingly strong grip.
“We need to practice your wedding hair,” Emma declared.
“My wedding hair?” I turned to the other side and stared at the domed object in Emma’s hands. “What is that thing?”
“The Hair Helper. It’s guaranteed to give you real ‘oomph’ at the crown. I ordered it off the late-night telly.”
“Oh, Emma. You haven’t been shopping off that again, have you?” Emma was a math major, and one of the brightest analytical minds I’d met at Cardiff, but she had some seriously questionable hobbies. The last time she’d ordered something from the shopping network, we enjoyed savory purees for our stews… . until the Dream Dome exploded, leaving tiny bits of carrots and onions all over our kitchen.
“She has, and now you get to reap the rewards.” Victoria strolled into the bedroom, sketchpad in hand.
I jumped to my feet. “I really don’t think—”
“Sit back down. This is happening.” Emma pushed me back into position and shoved the weird thing at my head. It looked about as useful as a screen door on a submarine, but Emma was determined. She started smoothing strands of hair over the Velcro-covered peak, sticking out her tongue as she concentrated.
“And you thought living with a fashion major was irritating.” Victoria made herself comfortable against the headboard, then smoothed her hair.
“At least that has perks,” I conceded. “No good can come of this.”
“Please,” Emma huffed. “You’ll have me to thank when you knock Ull’s socks off walking down the aisle.”
“I hope that’s not the only article of clothing she knocks off of Ull.” Victoria uncapped her pen and started to draw. “Where are you going on your honeymoon?”
“I don’t know. Ull won’t tell me.”
“Ooh, so romantic!” Emma squealed. She clapped her hands and pushed me to the mirror. “Well, with hair this fabulous, you won’t need to pack much.”
Victoria looked up from her sketchpad. “Just a baseball cap.”
“Don’t you like it?” Emma’s face fell.
I glanced in the mirror and tried not to cringe. My hair was stuck in a weird cone-shape on top of my head, with strands sticking at odd angles away from my face. Instinct told me this was supposed to be some sort of an elegant bouffant, but in reality I looked like I’d just stuck my finger in an electrical socket. I wracked my brain for something nice to say, but came up with diddly squat. There was just nothing good about this particular look.
Thankfully the chimes in my pocket did the talking for me.
“Pachelbel’s Canon. Must be the lucky fiancé.” Victoria snickered as I pulled out my phone.
“Seriously, Kristia? Still with the flip phone?” Emma shook her head. “I told you I’d take you to the Apple store on Saturday to—”
“Hold on a sec, Ull. I just have to do something real quick.” I put my phone down and began tugging at the top of my head. When I’d emancipated my mane, I tossed the contraption to Emma. “On second thought, I think I’m going to wear my hair down for the wedding.” I shrugged apologetically and patted her hand. “But thanks for thinking of me.”
“But—”
“What’s up, Ull?” I stepped into the hallway.
“I just wanted to make sure you got home from the racetrack safely.” His deep voice sent a shiver down my spine.
“Just barely. Inga drives like a maniac.”
“I know. You have not had any more visions since the one at Ýdalir?”
“Nope.” I glanced at my roommates to see if they were listening, but they were staring at the Hair Helper.
“You will tell me immediately if you do.” It was a command.
“I promised I would.”
“You know how important this is. If you see anything suspicious, if you have any odd feelings, or a dream that you think might be—”
“Ull, I get it,” I whispered. “I’ll come straight to you if anything weird happens. But I have to go. It’s curry night.”
“You hate curries.”
“I do not,” I protested. “I just… uh…”
“Kristia, can’t we just try one more hairstyle before we leave?” Emma pleaded. “I think I know what I did wrong.”
“I have to go, Ull. Girl’s night.”
“Call when you get home to let me know you are safe,” he ordered.
“I will.”
“And Kristia? Jeg elsker deg.”
“I love you, too,” I murmured as I closed my phone.
“So one more style? Then dinner?” Emma asked hopefully.
I shook my head.
“Let it go, Emma. She’s just not ready for the Hair Helper.” Victoria patted Emma’s arm.
“That was just my first go at it. I still have three months to practice on her before the wedding.”
Three months…
“That’s barely enough time for me to design your going-away gown.” Victoria patted the bed.
“You’re going to design a dress for me?” My eyes felt moist. “That is so incredibly kind
.”
“Of course I am. It’s not every day one’s roommate makes an honest man of the sexiest bloke on campus. What do you think of my sketches?” Victoria held up her notebook. I sat down and took the pad from her hands. When I opened the cover, I bit back a smile.
“This is gorgeous, Victoria.” It was. A Grecian-style sheath with wide straps, an empire waist, and an exaggerated fitted bodice that tapered all the way to the ankle. “But I’m afraid it’s more you than me. I’d never be able to walk in it. And I’m not entirely sure my tush would fit in… there.” I gestured.
“Your bum would look amazing in it. What about this one? Emma inspired it.” Victoria flipped the page and I giggled.
“That is definitely you, Em.”
“It is, isn’t it? Sweetheart neck, fit-and-flare waist, a double petticoated miniskirt. The oversized flower appliqués would be either organza or chiffon. I want it to have an ethereal feel—like wearing a cloud.” Victoria pointed with her pencil.
“It’s spectacular,” I agreed.
“You could wear it with one of those tiaras we saw last week! Or a feathered fascinator—ooh, a feathered fascinator.” Emma’s eyes glazed over as she went to a fashion-inspired happy place.
“And then there’s this one.” Victoria turned the page again. “I think this would suit you best.”
I tore my eyes away from the now-bouncing Emma and stared at the page. My hand flew to my neck—Victoria’s design took my breath away. The sleeveless dress had a fitted bodice that would accentuate my chest. The skirt skimmed the hips tightly enough to showcase my… assets… before flaring in a delicate bell shape. It ended a few inches above the knee. It was just modest enough that Mormor would have approved, but still sexy enough to wow a Norse god. The dress had an intricate lace design that looked like a series of paisley swirls and delicate flowers, and it appeared to have some kind of beading sewn throughout—Victoria had drawn little lines designating sparkles.