My eyes turned to the yellowed pages she held. “What is that?”
“The good parts of the book you wanted.” She shrugged. “I do have my uses.”
“Put that away,” I hissed, looking around. Ancient writings were sacred and not to be viewed by mortal eyes. Jord would make an excellent actress. She loved drama. “Have them delivered to me. I’ll send Theta.”
“That nasty hawk of yours?” She shivered. “I’ll have a handmaid awaiting the little beast. You can’t expect me to hand deliver them into claws? I am a goddess.”
“Ladies,” Professor Teddy greeted us.
Jord shoved the pages back into her purse, turning to the professor with a practiced smile. His face shadowed with a blush and I fought a sigh. Jord knew how to turn on the charm.
“Can you try to be normal?” I murmured as I turned to face him. “Professor Hawthorne, I’d like you to meet my aunt’s financial advisor.”
Jord thrust out her hand. “Jordan Prada at your service.”
He stared at her hand before taking it and giving it an awkward shake. Jord scowled and I grinned. It wasn’t everyday a goddess got a handshake and not a kiss to the knuckles. It also wasn’t everyday Jord conversed with mortals, and I had a front row seat.
“So, you’re the mastermind behind this scholarship contest?” he asked. He crammed his hands into the pockets of his black trousers. “I can’t tell you how much this means to the university.” His head tilted. “I mean, the Holloways have an outstanding reputation for aiding university students already, but this exceeds anything I’ve seen. A chance like this is a once in a lifetime thing for these kids. It’s nothing short of brilliant and very generous.”
“Brilliant,” Jord repeated, passing me a shuttered look. I rolled my eyes. “How good of you to pay me a compliment, but I must admit, this was Oria’s idea. Being a college student herself, she feels a kinship with others like her. She wanted to give back to the community and her aunt so graciously indulged her. I was merely the facilitator of the proper legal issues and funds.”
“Still,” the professor said. “Very generous.” His weight shifted. “Good of you to come by. Can I get you something? Would you like to meet some of the students? They’ve been working hard today and I’m sure they could use a break.”
My lips compressed. Jord meeting students? Perish the thought. “She was just leaving,” I offered.
“Nonsense,” Jord said with a huge smile. “I’d love to meet the children.”
I sighed, while the professor look dumbfounded.
“How many times do I have to tell you we don’t like to be called children?” I chided.
“Compared to me—” Jord started.
I grabbed her arm—hard. “Compared to you, we are all small mortals.” I looked at the professor. “She likes to pretend she’s a goddess who’s centuries old.”
A nervous bubble of laughter came from the professor. “Well, we are all actors here. She’ll fit right in.” He motioned to the stage. “Come this way. I’ll introduce you to the students who’ve applied for the scholarship.”
Jord shook her arm from my grip. “Oooooh, I’d love to meet Maxwell.” She gave me a wink. “I hear he’s all the rage.”
My mouth curved downward and I folded my arms. As soon as they were out of sight, I was flashing out of here and going home.
Chapter 11
I discovered that I didn’t like the theater. At least, watching the same scenes over and over again, I could do without. Didn’t mortals know that living life was better than pretending? Give me a good battle with the gods; that was entertaining. I’d been popping in and out of the theater for a week, watching the hopefuls’ every move, barely concealing my lack of interest. There were times I wanted to shout that Maxwell won, but I knew I had to carry this thing out like a script.
When I wasn’t reaping or pretending to be mortal, I was holed up in my chamber going over the pages Jord had procured from an elf. She hadn’t been joking when she said it was the good parts. Halflings could be created in a variety of ways. The most lethal of them were beings like Jasper. Half god, half mortal was the deadliest because they could function in all nine worlds and the gods didn’t like that. As a mortal, they could discern things of the immortal worlds and that was dangerous. A mortal like that could uncover the demise of the gods.
Jasper could have lived a normal mortal life if Orum and I hadn’t intervened. It was stupid that gods marked halflings. It was like putting a target on them. Reapers flocked to marks, either to counter-reap or stalk to discover the nature of the mark. Halflings were better left alone until the final reap. At least if they weren’t marked, they’d have a semblance of protection. But, then again, a half god, half mortal must be marked to protect Asgard and the pantheon.
Still…
Maxwell could be a halfling. He had the charisma, the stamina. When he was directing, he was mesmerizing. Everyone took note when he led, and everyone wanted to please him. There was an unearthly aura around him. Students flocked to him, all wanting to be a part of his production. He belied a sense of hope, and they all wanted hope and a future. Perhaps his good looks had something to do with his popularity. Perhaps they didn’t. Either way, something was wrong with him, and it was up to me to find out what that was. Being handsome didn’t make him defective to Midgard.
However, he was somewhat defective to me. While his memories had been erased by Orum, mine remained intact. I remembered what transpired between us and the knowledge burned. If only it was easy to delete a certain kiss from my own brain. If I was sensible, I’d run in the other direction. The more I studied Ragnarok, the more I realized what a bomb I was holding, and that Maxwell could very well be the trigger. Even though his memories were gone, I could sense the unease in him when I was around. As if it would only take a breath and he’d recall who and what I was. He had untapped powers within him that begged to be released. The mark of Odin lingered, but had nothing to do with what lay beneath his skin.
“Let’s start from the beginning,” Maxwell said, rumpling the already crinkled script in his hands.
A resounding groan filled the theater as actors shuffled to their respective places on the stage. I groaned as well. This was the tenth take on the scene, and I really didn’t need to hear Eponine whine over Marius again. If I were the character, I’d move on. No mortal was worth all that heartache, especially one who was in love with someone else.
I shifted in my seat. Holding mortal form for long periods of time subjected me to the problems of being human, like pain and irritation. My hip ached and I had a build-up of frustration. When Marius began his lines, I almost jumped up and shouted obscenities. My self-control hung on by a thin thread of my immortality. I veered my attention to the ceiling as not to act on my thoughts.
I had to give it to the university. They’d rightfully restored the theater to the way it had been in the 1930’s. The sun god, Ra, smiled down on me as rays glimmered from his center, making prisms on the walls when the lights hit the right spot. The Egyptian theme worked and no other place could claim such an interior. It’s what had singled it out all those years ago and would be its saving grace in this era once again. The originality was both regal and unexpected. When the place reopened under new management, it wouldn’t need divine aid to keep it open. It would draw patrons on its own. The only thing that could stop this place from flourishing would be Odin himself.
My spine tingled as Jord materialized into the building. I knew it was her, because she’d became obsessed with seeing this endeavor through. Maybe it was the professor that caught her eye, or perhaps it was the fact that the students fawned over her designer duds. Either way, she irritated me with her presence. Suddenly, this was all about Jord and not about saving the world.
I tipped my chin in greeting as she passed, my eyes scolding her for flashing in without a care. I knew she used her goddess powers of invisibility, but it still rankled that she had the gall to be so brazen. This wasn’t a
game.
I stilled as she took the seat next to me. Correction, this was a game. A game of the worst sort. Lives hung in the balance and we were playing roulette with them. Our presence alone messed with the cosmic makeup of each soul present. The norns would have a field day with this when we were discovered. We were literally opening a large can of mayhem on these unsuspecting souls, all for the cause of one. All for the one soul who had us baffled.
I looked to the stage. Maxwell was grinning, having finally gotten an acceptable take. He praised the actors as they filed from the stage, most grumbling under their breaths about being tired and hungry. If I stared head on at Maxwell’s chest, the aura he projected had gone bluer and brighter. It radiated outward into the form of a lotus flower.
Peculiar.
“Do you see that?” I asked.
Jord fluffed her jacket as she made herself comfortable. “Does it surprise you?” She hugged her purse. “It doesn’t surprise me.”
I looked at her. “Jord. That’s more than a mark. It’s a beacon. Marks don’t morph into images.”
She leaned toward me. “The lotus flower is a symbol of rebirth,” she said, her voice hushed. “I’ve seen it before. When the gods bound Fenrir the final time, it was projected as petals riding the air.” Her head tilted. “Beautiful and terrifying at the same time. We all know how it ends with Fenrir, but that day was hopeful, almost serene, even though we walked in darkness for a time.”
“Fenrir ushers in Ragnarok,” I whispered. “How can anything to do with him be hopeful?”
“No one knows why the lotus petals were imagined, but it is still spoken of until this day. A legend of sorts among my people. Some say it was a symbol that Fenrir was finally bound for all time. That the legends of him killing Odin would never transpire.”
Fenrir was the son of Loki and the giantess, Angrboda. The wolf who would kill Odin in the final battle. He was feared even among the reapers, as he knew no sense of loyalty to any being. May his days continue to be spent in chains. It had been an age since he’d been bound, but I remembered the day. The atmosphere had blackened and silence surrounded all nine worlds, but I’d seen no lotus petals. Legend stated that he would eat the sun and earth with his mighty jaws when unleashed. Everyone waited with baited breath to see that he’d been truly enslaved. Jord’s people must have been sniffing potions if they believed they’d seen lotus flowers. Different races had their own myths and legends within our nine worlds.
A shiver shot through me. “How can a symbol of hope be tied to such a malignant being?”
Jord shrugged, her face becoming a mask of indifference. “Why do gods interfere with mortals and go so far as to mark them?” She smirked. “As if we don’t have enough to worry about, we mettle in things better left to the norns. If we didn’t have silly ideals such as Valhalla, Folkvangr, and Hel, souls would search out their own peace. Ridiculous when you think of it. We have paradise in the palm of our hands and it isn’t good enough.”
“How can you be so calm?” I harshly whispered. I didn’t like how the more we uncovered, the clearer it became that Maxwell was tied to Ragnarok. “We are talking about Ragnarok, not a tea party. Lotus flowers aside, this is more than the both of us can fathom. I see no hope here. We need answers and we need them soon.” I motioned to the stage below. “We sit here playing theater, while Maxwell walks around Midgard projecting an aura we cannot even interpret.”
“Pretending indeed,” Jord entoned. She rolled her eyes. “I remain calm because these old eyes have seen war and chaos and still, I live. One poor, lost soul will not break me. What would you have me do, darling? Walk up to Odin and demand answers? We’ve been through this before.”
“No,” I huffed. My hands balled into fists. I’d seen my fair share of war as well. She was right. We’d get through this and find out the secret of Maxwell. “I’m just tired of this.” I slumped in my seat. “I feel as if we are doing nothing here.”
“Here is where the boy’s heart lies,” Jord answered. One finger tapped the arm rest. “Here is where we win his soul. If we gain his trust, he will work for us. Does it really matter where his soul finds rest?” She didn’t give me pause to answer. “I don’t care if Hel reaps him. Odin and Freya can pull him apart and share halves. I don’t give a damn where he ends up, just as long as we assure he finds a final place for his soul. That way, he poses no harm to us.”
Again, she was right. It was no longer about reaping a soul for Folkvangr. It was about keeping our nine worlds safe. We were doing everything we could to put the puzzle together. More people were involved than necessary. Just then, Maxwell glanced up and smiled, and my anxiety melted. I straightened and gave a wave, much to my everlasting humiliation.
“Ah,” Jord purred. “Behold. The love triangle.”
My countenance dropped. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m doing nothing more than playing my part.” Maxwell motioned for me to come to the stage. I shook my head, thumbing at Jord with an eye roll. He shook his head, still grinning, and shrugged. “See. He only wants to be friends because he wants this theater so badly. I’m being summoned so he can butter me up some more.”
“He’s been buttering you up?” Jord asked. One of her finely manicured brows arched. “This is new. Tell me about this buttering.”
“He’s calling me over so he can show me what an amazing director he is. Blah, blah, blah.”
“Hmm,” Jord hummed. “So the kiss meant nothing to you?”
“Stop it,” I said. Just thinking of the kiss made my insides knot. “Seriously, he recaps everything he does. Bores me to tears with all that theater gab. Sometimes I just want to blurt out that he’s won just to get him to shut up.”
“You’re blushing,” Jord smiled.
“I am not.” My face did feel hot. “It’s merely warm up here. We’re practically sitting on the ceiling.”
“You wear mortal skin well,” she chided. “But it is unwise. You’re much too comfortable in the form of humans.”
“I like to eat,” I admitted, steering her away from the topic of Maxwell. “Pumpkin should be food of the gods.”
Jord laughed, but, it was short lived.
“I knew I’d find you here.” It was a voice I’d known for all of my life. It embarrassed me that I’d not noticed him sneaking up on us. Another reason I shouldn’t be playing mortal.
“What are you doing here?” I asked my brother.
Orum shimmied his way between the seats until he was standing in front of me. He, too, wore a mortal form well. Black t-shirt, ripped jeans. His white-blond hair was spiked in preppy fashion.
“Trying to save you,” he replied. He looked over his shoulder. Maxwell was watching us with unveiled curiosity. “Am I too late?”
“Most definitely, darling,” Jord said. Orum turned to Jord, a frown growing on his face. “By about a century.” Jord smiled.
“Nice to see you, Jord,” Orum sneered. “Don’t have enough disturbance in your own life, so you’re making one in my sister’s?” Jord’s smiled vanished. “Tell me. How does a giantess become even remotely involved with a reaper bent on mortal affairs?”
“You know it’s more than we first thought,” I hissed as I stood. My voice dropped. “Magna told me what you did, so don’t act so innocent. What are you doing here? Finishing up your little mind games?”
“I’m making sure you don’t muck up everything I’ve done to keep you safe.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “Do you know what your little games are costing everyone around you? A thank you would be nice.” He searched my face for signs of remorse. He could look all day and never see it. His eyes widened. “Has he seen your wings again? Because this is where I remind you that a second mind wiping won’t be as effective. I can’t keep doing this.”
“This is where I remind you what an idiot you are. The more immortals flashing in and out of this location will alert Heimdall,” I said. “Do you want that?”
Heimdall watched over Bifrost. He had hearing so
great that he could hear grass growing. His eyesight was so keen that he could see for hundreds of miles. He would easily see the vanishing lights as we phased in and out of mortality.
Jord snorted. “Nosy god.”
“Answer my question,” Orum said, crossing his arms. “Did you reveal yourself to the mortal again?”
“No, no,” I sputtered. I poked his chest. “How could you even think such a thing?”
“You did it once, I figured you’d do it again,” Orum replied. “The fact that you’re here speaks volumes.”
“You’re right. I should thank you for doing what you did, but I won’t.” I crossed my arms and it was like staring into a mirror. “I’m doing something important here. Albeit perhaps stupid, but necessary. Who told you about the contract?” I looked at Jord, who quickly shook her head.
“I’ll never tell, but I’m thrilled you admit this is stupid,” Orum said. “At least I have something to work with.”
“You have nothing to do with this,” I said. “While what you did was noble, I didn’t ask for your help. So help me, I will find out who told you and see that they are cast into the veil.”
“Recite to me the law,” Orum snapped. “Tell me the penalty for a reaper who exposes themselves to a mortal.”
“Death,” Jord answered. We both looked at her. She shrugged. “It’s the same for all beings tied to the nine worlds. If I were to show myself to a human, death would be the sentence, although it wouldn’t be swift. We all know how the gods love to play with their food.”
“And what of the unlucky human?” Orum asked. “Please, do tell my sister what happens to the mortal who sees us in our natural form.”
“These questions are rhetorical,” I said.
Orum lifted his hand as Jord was diving into another unsolicited answer.
“Immediate reap,” Jord looked pleased. She glanced at me with a smug grin. “But as Oria stated, these are laws we are familiar with. Why are you here, Orum? Have you become bored with Folkvangr? Has Magna put you out? We are more than capable of seeing this through without your small talents.”
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