Gods on Earth: Complete Series (Books 1-3): Paranormal Romances with Norse Gods, Tricksters, and Fated Mates

by Andrijeski, JC

  “What’d you have in mind?” she said.

  He thought for a few seconds. “Horror?”

  Silvia considered that. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep for at least a few hours. Especially now, with all the pizza she was eating.

  “I’m game,” she said.

  Realizing she didn’t really know the etiquette on people meditating in the middle of her floor, she added, “Do you think we have to wait until he finishes? Would it be rude to start a movie playing, with him sitting like that?”

  “I don’t think he’ll mind,” Morty said, studying the muscular man. “We’ve been sitting here, talking about him, and he doesn’t seem to care. I don’t see why a movie would bother him more than that, so––”

  Morty froze.

  Flinching, Silvia followed his stare.

  The man sitting on their Persian rug was coming out of his trance-like posture.

  Even more significantly, the blond man’s eyes were open.

  Those pale blue eyes shone up at Silvia, making her blink.

  She was still staring at them when he looked away, glancing warily at Morty, then back at her.

  “Did you hear all of that?” Morty, being Morty, asked curiously.

  Thor didn’t respond.

  Silvia wondered if that meant he hadn’t heard them talking about him, so had no idea what Morty meant, or the blond man had heard them talking, and was either annoyed, or thought it a strange question to ask, since he’d been sitting only a few feet away.

  She supposed it was equally possible he simply didn’t care.

  Thor was staring at her now, a faint puzzlement touching his lips.

  “Your hair,” he said finally, that frown still curving his lips. “It was different before. It was shorter, and a different color.”

  Silvia flushed.

  She reached up self-consciously to touch her dark brown hair, which fell down her shoulders in loose curls, even wet. It dried fast but remained damp from her shower, most of it hanging down her back, wetting the top part of her T-shirt.

  She’d completely forgotten he hadn’t seen her without the wig––a thick, black bob with straight bangs that verged on severe.

  She probably looked completely different to him.

  She’d forgotten she let Morty dress her and do her make-up that night.

  “That was a wig, gorgeous,” Morty said, speaking before Silvia could recover. “You couldn’t tell that wasn’t her real hair?” He smirked in Silvia’s direction. “She’s such a lamb about letting me play dress-up with her for our nights at Lucille’s. I wanted to do the futuristic flapper-girl thing, so I gave her the wig to match the heavy Cleopatra make-up.”

  There was a silence.

  In it, Thor’s gaze narrowed.

  From his expression, he hadn’t followed much of anything Morty just said.

  Somewhere in that, he seemed to make up his mind to let it go.

  His eyes returned to Silvia.

  “I like it,” Thor pronounced. “The other was good, too.”

  Silvia opened her mouth, then closed it. She honestly wasn’t sure how to respond, or even if he meant his words as a compliment.

  “I’m hungry,” Thor announced next, before she could make up her mind. “Is that the food we looked at on your metal device earlier? The bread and meat with sauce?”

  Morty blinked, staring at Thor as if he’d just spoken Japanese.

  Silvia found herself wincing, realizing how strange the blond giant sounded. For reasons she couldn’t even begin to explain to herself, she somehow felt the need to protect the big weirdo from Morty’s scorn. As much as she loved Morty, she wondered how her friend was going to react to her houseguest, and if that reaction would involve an avalanche of sarcasm.

  To Thor himself, Silvia nodded, leaning over to tug open the pizza box so he could see inside.

  “There’s lots left. If you want a plate, let me know.”

  Swallowing the half-bite of pizza that remained in her mouth, she added,

  “I brought everyone water, but do you want anything else to drink?”

  “Do you have mead?” Thor asked.

  Morty’s jaw fell more.

  Silvia couldn’t help glancing at him.

  Her flatmate’s eyebrows now kissed his hairline.

  Even so, it was Morty who answered the giant, lowering his overloaded slice of pizza down to his grease-covered pile of paper towels.

  “Mead?” Morty spoke slowly, enunciating each letter. “Did you seriously just ask us for mead? Is that still a thing, where… or possibly when… you’re from?”

  The blond man looked between them.

  He seemed to be picking up on the fact that he was acting strangely.

  He gave Silvia a look, almost an admonition, coupled with a faint frown.

  “What do you have?” he said.

  “Coke,” Silvia offered, wiping her hands on a paper towel she tore off the roll.

  “…Water,” she added, motioning towards the glasses. “I think we also have some cranberry juice.”

  Thor’s brow furrowed.

  Clearly, to him, it was Silvia and Morty who were saying odd things.

  “Cran-bear-ree juice,” he enunciated. “Co-oke.”

  “Beer,” Morty added. “I’ve got beer. I only have a few left––”

  The blond man glided easily to his feet, regaining his full height with a grace Silvia found fascinating, almost disorienting, given his size.

  Morty must have felt the same.

  He gaped up at Thor, watching from the couch as the large man paced back and forth on the rug.

  “I will have the beer,” Thor announced. “Tell me where it is.”

  Silvia rose to her feet.

  “I’ll get it,” she said. “Go ahead and eat.”

  Without waiting for his response, she walked out from behind the coffee table and back into the kitchen, barely pausing to toss her crumpled-up paper towel in the trash.

  Making her way to the light-blue fridge, a fifties antique Morty found in some shop or another on Market Street, she jerked open the chrome door handle and bent down to peer inside.

  Morty did indeed have three bottles of beer left from a six-pack.

  She didn’t know the label, not being much of a beer drinker herself, but it was from some micro-brewery or another. She was pretty sure he picked these up when he was in Napa the previous weekend, maybe when he stopped in Santa Rosa on the way home.

  Pulling one out, she walked to the mixed utensil drawer, rooting around in the mess until she extracted a bottle opener shaped like a shark. Bringing the beer and opener with her back to the living room, she popped off the bottle’s cap as she walked, plunking the cold beer down on the wooden coffee table next to Thor, who sat cross-legged on the rug.

  Sliding back behind the coffee table, she sank back down into their lime-green couch.

  Thor had already grabbed his own slice of pizza.

  Actually, given how fast he was eating, it might already be his second.

  Possibly his third.

  He ate with an enthusiasm that fascinated her.

  Morty still had half of his third slice left, when Thor was already helping himself to another thick triangle, dragging it onto the coffee table, folding it in half, and taking a huge bite. He paused in his chewing just long enough to down half the beer she’d brought him in seemingly two swallows.

  “Careful, caveman,” Morty said, smirking a little. “We can’t have you throwing up all over our antique carpet. Or all over me, for that matter.”

  The man who called himself Thor stared at Morty, lowered his beer bottle slowly. A faint confusion once more lived in his striking features, and that strangely-perfect mouth.

  “Throwing up?” he said.

  “You know.” Morty waved at Thor’s plate. “When the stuff you shove into your belly gets shoved right back out again. Making a big mess.”

  Understanding reached those pale blue eyes.

&
nbsp; “Ah. Yes.” He let out a dismissive grunt, once more lifting the beer. “Do not worry. I am not human. That does not happen to me.”

  Morty blinked, his hand frozen in midair where he’d been about to take a drink of water. His hand remained frozen, his mouth in an open position for a few beats too long. Then, lowering the glass back to the table, Morty closed his mouth.

  He frowned, then opened his mouth again.

  “What?” he said.

  Thor shrugged, dusting off the last of the beer.

  Silvia watched the long muscles of his throat slide up and down as he swallowed.

  “It is a human thing,” he said. “To be sick. That does not happen to me.”

  “A human thing?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that does not happen to you?”

  “No. It does not. You needn’t worry.”

  “Because you aren’t… human.” Morty’s smirk was back. “Pray tell, what are you? What species do you represent, you glorious slab of maleness?”

  Thor looked faintly puzzled by the last, but not insulted.

  “Did she not tell you?” he said, glancing at Silvia. “I am Thor.”

  “Thor.”

  The blond giant nodded, taking another huge bite of pizza.

  He chewed, glancing up at Silvia as he swallowed part of the bite.

  “Is there more of the beer?” he asked.

  There was a silence, then Silvia nodded, rising back to her feet. She retreated to the fridge, repeating the ritual of grabbing him a beer, then opening it for him once she was back at the couch. She set the new bottle down on the coffee table near Thor’s arm.

  Silvia rearranged herself on the couch, watching the two of them.

  Through all of that, Thor and Morty were still talking.

  Borderline arguing, really, even if it was entirely one-sided.

  “God of Thunder. Thor.” Morty’s voice was flat, in a way that suggested he’d said it at least a few times already. “Not just a name. Not like your mom was just way into Norse shit. You’re saying you’re the real deal. Thor. The Thunder God. From another planet.”

  Thor swallowed the last mouthful of his current slice of pizza, licking his fingers.

  “Yes,” he said, glancing at Silvia. “Well… world, technically. Not planet, as there’s an interdimensional element.”

  There was a silence.

  Then the man calling himself Thor, God of Thunder, gave each of them a flat look.

  “I’m joking,” he said, taking a swallow of the new beer. “It’s just a name.”

  The silence deepened.

  Then Morty burst out in a cackling laugh.

  The laugh was loud enough, and shocked enough, that Thor broke into a chuckle.

  Only Silvia remained silent.

  She smiled with them, trying to play it off like she was in on the joke, but her smile grew increasingly tense as she remembered what she’d seen in the park. Worse, she grew aware of Thor’s eyes on her, the longer Morty laughed.

  Feeling that stare, she knew she wasn’t quite pulling off pretending to be relieved and amused like Morty was.

  She glanced surreptitiously at Thor, only to find him watching her minutely still. Before she could look away, she saw the faint warning in his eyes.

  Luckily, Morty didn’t seem to notice either thing.

  Nothing but delight lived in Morty’s voice when he next spoke.

  “Then what the hell was the zoning out on the floor thing?” Morty said. “Why were you sitting there like some kind of Buddhist monk for however-long?”

  Thor shrugged. His eyes remained on Silvia. Those shocking blue irises remained utterly still.

  “I was trying to work out a problem, like your friend said.” Thor took another few long swallows of beer. “That helps sometimes.”

  Silvia once more found herself focusing on his accent.

  It struck her again that she didn’t recognize it at all.

  Which was sort of incidental, really.

  The much more important thing was that she now knew he was lying.

  He was lying to Morty, right in front of her. Clearly, Thor knew she knew he was lying, but he was doing it anyway. He was relying on her to not call him out on it. He was relying on her to not mention the lightning strikes in Alamo Square, the giant plasma-ball he’d encased her inside, his “nephew,” who turned into a giant snake… and hurled pieces of tree at him.

  He was leaving out the giant hammer currently leaning against the wall in her bedroom, too.

  Morty’s lips puckered in puzzlement. “Did it help? The sitting?”

  Thor continued to look at Silvia, his blue eyes like ice, but completely calm.

  “I’m not sure yet,” he said.

  “And the nakedness?” Morty said, seeming to remember that suddenly. “You were naked in a bar. With a really big hammer––”

  “Yes, well.” Thor shrugged, holding up his hands. “It was a wager. I never could turn down coin when it comes so easy…” Seeming to notice Morty’s reaction to his choice of words, Thor talked over it. “…but my friends left me there, and took my clothes. I had to find a way home. Silvia here was kind enough to take pity on me.”

  Morty gave Silvia a sideways look, quirking a dark eyebrow.

  “I can’t imagine why,” he murmured.

  Silvia did her best to hold a poker face.

  Honestly, she wasn’t sure which of them she was doing it for.

  She wasn’t sure which thing she was trying to hide.

  Glancing at Thor, she found those pale blue eyes on her again.

  He didn’t look warning that time.

  If anything, he looked… puzzled.

  He looked at her like he knew her from somewhere, but he couldn’t remember where and it was driving him crazy because he was positive he knew her.

  She wasn’t sure how to react to that, either.

  5

  Picnic In The Park

  S ilvia opened her eyes… groggily at first, barely able to get them apart well enough to focus on her white-painted ceiling.

  Then, she remembered the night before.

  Her eyes flipped all the way open.

  Throwing back her comforter, she leapt out of bed, still wearing sweat shorts and the tank top she’d thrown on the night before with a cartoon cat on the front.

  She ran out her bedroom door, almost tripping on Morty’s real cat, managing to leap over him instead, stumbling and recovering before making her way into the kitchen. The whole apartment already smelled like coffee and bacon.

  She looked at the couch first, which was empty.

  Well, not entirely empty.

  Someone folded her mom’s patterned, blue and white quilt and left it on the couch cushions. Stacked on top of that was her folded set of lavender sheets and her extra pillow.

  Silvia looked around the rest of the room, but it was empty.

  She ran into the kitchen, hearing someone rummaging around in there. Stopping right at the doorway, she held the walls on either side, fighting to suppress her disappointment when she saw Morty standing there, frying eggs and bacon in a cast iron skillet.

  He glanced over at her, giving her a half smile and quirking an eyebrow.

  “Looking for tall, blond, and gorgeous?” he said, smirking.

  Silvia let out a sigh. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I guess it’s good I didn’t dream him.”

  “No. You did not, my little chickadee.”

  Morty used a spatula to flip over the eggs, which told Silvia he was making them for her. She liked hers over-easy. Morty liked his sunny-side up.

  “So where is he?” Silvia said, swinging lightly back and forth on the doorway. “Did he leave already?”

  “He was gone when I got up.”

  Silvia frowned. “Oh.”

  “Yeah.” Morty glanced at her, even as he held the skillet over a ceramic plate with a Thai-looking elephant on the middle. He started using the spatula to put her eggs on the plate. “
I was bummed, too, sweetness. He must have left before dawn. I came out here around five-thirty to let the cat in when I heard her meowing from the balcony… and the couch was empty.”

  “Really?” Silvia’s frown deepened. “That early?”

  They’d probably gone to bed around two-thirty or three.

  Silvia threw on a movie while Thor and Morty continued to eat pizza and drink beer. Morty even ran down to the corner store to pick them up another fancy six pack of beer. They only made it about halfway through whatever zombie-apocalyptic thing Morty picked out, then Silvia made up the couch for Thor and they all crashed.

  It had to be at least two o’clock in the morning.

  More likely three.

  Where had he gone before five a.m.?

  More to the point… why?

  Was he off looking for that weird snake guy he called “nephew”?

  “I don’t know, Silvie,” Morty said sympathetically, throwing a few strips of bacon on her plate and handing it over to her. “The way he was looking at you last night, I was stunned he didn’t at least leave you a note. Or a phone number. Or anything. Did he say anything last night? About keeping in touch?”

  She shook her head a little sadly, taking the plate. “No.”

  Morty cracked two more eggs onto the skillet after tossing on another pat of butter. Silvia just stood there, watching him, her plate in her hand.

  Going over Morty’s words in her head, she sighed.

  “He wasn’t looking at me the way you think,” she said.

  Morty grunted, arranging his eggs on the skillet.

  “Really?” he said.

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Really.”

  “Go eat.” He pointed the spatula at her. “It’s going to get cold. I’ve got coffee out there for you already.”

  Silvia frowned. “Why? I wasn’t even up yet.”

  “I was about to go wake your ass up,” Morty said. “We’re still going to that thing in the park today, right?”

  Trying to think past the blond giant with the electric hammer, Silvia plucked a piece of bacon off her plate and chewed on it.

  “You mean Shakespeare in the Park?”