by S. E. Babin
I nodded and handed her a wet rag. “Truly.”
She began to wipe down the mess she made as she contemplated what I’d just told her. “And who was it?”
“Loki’s wife.”
The rag stopped moving.
“Aye?”
“Aye.”
“Did you know Loki had a wife?” she asked as she started cleaning again.
“No. I know he has a child, but I didn’t realize he was married.”
“Bonded,” Eyra corrected me. “Marriage is such a human notion.”
I smiled. “Humans are some of my best friends.”
She shuddered. “And those creepy witches, too.”
I laughed out loud. “They might be creepy but they’re all perfectly lovely.” I hadn’t told Eyra about what happened with Loki. I wasn’t sure if her heart could take it.
My friend tossed the rag back at me and picked her stout back up. “Shall I continue to drink or are you going to tell me something else earth-shattering today?”
I shrugged and tossed the rag back. “Better keep this then.”
She eyed me suspiciously over the top of the glass mug she held. “Out with it then,” she said, her amber eyes glittering. “Tell me why you look so contemplative.”
I shook my head. “First we have to go outside and tell everyone what happened.”
“Freya, the Valkyries and the gods have this art they’re all very good at. Would you like to know what it is?”
I rolled my eyes and picked up a glass to dry. “What?”
“Secret keeping.”
“A secret like that does no man good.”
“Why? What harm is there in not telling anyone what happened until you figure out why it happened?”
I set the glass down. “Because I am an honest woman, Eyra!”
She sipped her stout and studied me. “No one said you weren’t. No one is questioning your integrity. What will happen if you tell them?”
“They will probably think either I or Loki murdered her.”
“And if you don’t tell them?”
“It isn’t my way.”
“Your non-answer shows you know what the best way is and yet you’re still choosing to go out there and sacrifice yourself. You’d rather put yourself on the roasting pit and cast suspicion on yourself than just wait a little while?”
When she put it that way… “They will need to know.”
“And you shall tell them,” she said sweetly. “When you figure out who the guilty party is.” She raised her glass to me. “Now, call off the meeting and sit and have a drink with me, Freya of the honest face and fiery red hair.”
She was right. With a light gust of wind and a whisper, I sent the news of the cancellation through the air of the town and into people’s homes. People would be curious, that was normal, but no one would approach me and ask. My fiery temper was legendary, though it had been ages since it led me astray.
I pulled one of the larger mugs from the rack and poured myself a massive lager. Loki had gone off to do something so it was just us two in the bar and I hadn’t seen Eyra in awhile. I didn’t open until five and it was still early afternoon. We had some time before Gravelbeard showed up to prep the kitchen. It would be nice to spend some time with her.
I leaned over and toasted my friend. “To the blonde who thinks she knows it all.”
She lifted the glass and said, “And to the redhead whose face is kind but whose mind is diabolical.”
“Friends forever until we’re ashes scattered in the wind,” we said in unison and drank together until Gravelbeard stumbled in about an hour later and gave us both the hairy eyeball and asked us what the Hel we were looking at.
He was a four foot tall bearded man with weapons strapped all over him and a perpetual scowl. Could there be anything else we were looking at? Eyra gave him a lusty wink and made kissy noises at him and Gravelbeard, so perplexed by the buxom blonde, gave her a wide berth as he passed by us on his way into the kitchen.
“He’s hot,” she said conversationally as she tipped back another mug of ale.
I winced and knocked the glass tumbler against my teeth in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“Short. Hairy. Big, bulky muscles, weapons from head to toe, a glorious beard. What’s not to love?”
I gagged a little bit. “Please tell me you are not serious,” I whispered mostly to myself.
Eyra raised her mug to me. “Totally serious. Gravelbeard is going to experience thirty seven seconds of hot, steamy love once he gets off shift.”
I barked out a surprised laugh. “You’re disgusting,” I said fondly. “I don’t even know if he’s married.”
She shook her head. “No ring. No tan line of a ring. He doesn’t walk with a defeated gait. I bet he’s single. No roommates. I bet his house is clean, too, and his cutlery drawer is arranged in the proper order. Forks, spoons, knives, miscellaneous. I bet he has a rack for his wine glasses and hand wipes them to ensure there aren’t any spots.”
“Dude. I had no idea you were this depraved.”
Eyra hopped off of her stool. “Everything has its place, my friend. And Gravelbeard’s place is going to be underneath my sheets tonight.”
“No, Gods no.” I set my tumbler down and put my hands over my ears. “I do not want to hear about this if it happens. Never, not even when we’re gloriously drunk two hundred years from now and reliving our glory days.”
Eyra grabbed a handful of peanuts from a bowl on top of the bar and tossed a couple in her mouth. “Gravelbeard isn’t the kiss and tell kind of guy. He’s the marrying kind of guy.”
“Hel no,” I whispered and waved my hand toward the door. “Go away.”
Eyra shot me a wide grin. “What time does he get off?”
“Go. Away!”
“I’ll be back at 10 p.m. Sharp. Tell him to wear something nice.” Eyra breezed through the door.
“What. Just. Happened?” I asked myself out loud as I watched Eyra’s shapely backside walk out of my place.
From the kitchen, Gravelbeard called quietly, “Is that devil woman gone?”
I worried the bottom of my lip to keep from laughing. “She is.” Was it wrong not to tell him she’d be back?
“Is that your friend?” The kitchen door squeaked open and his hairy, broad face peeked around it.
“She is.”
“You need new friends,” he barked and let the door shut behind him.
“I should have stayed in Asgard,” I muttered to myself. I slid the apron off and slipped it onto the hook behind me. The bar was clean and stocked. There was nothing for me to do for the next forty-five minutes. I stepped outside and inhaled the clean Virginia air.
It was quiet outside like it had been ever since I made this place, but now I knew it was full of people. I wondered if the quiet came because people were still nervous about potential fallout from Odin or if they were busy settling in. I’d always imagine a place full of free laughter, full of people who could do whatever they wanted, lawfully, without any repercussions. Practicing low magic, reading the runes, playing any kind of music they wanted and even drinking and eating whatever they wanted. I had no desire to rule, though I did see a need for every place to have a strong leader. But a strong leader didn’t mean dictatorship. Choice was what made people happy. Choice made a place interesting.
But we were starting off wrong.
I was hiding a body in my house and I hadn’t the first clue how to figure out who might have wanted her harm. Part of me wondered if Odin had anything to do with it. This was a paranoia I’d lived with ever since I’d been married to him. Did he know what I was doing? Was he watching me? The other part of me didn’t think Odin was all that smart. He was way more arrogant than he was intelligent, so he probably thought I would never do anything to undermine him. So...I spent most of my life undermining him in small and subtle ways.
Doing something like this had the potential to destabilize everything I was trying to build. This wa
s why it smacked of him. And, if not him, it definitely smacked of Asgard. The vast majority of the gods living there were dirty dealers. I liked Baldur and I respected him, so I didn’t think he was responsible. Tyr, Odin and some of the others...I would never turn my back on them.
Heimdall was pretty cool, too. I liked the guardian and I thought he liked me, too. He was pretty ambivalent about Odin, though he always obeyed his orders even when I saw in his eyes he didn’t want to. I couldn’t pull the guardian from Asgard, though I wanted to but...perhaps I could talk to him with the right magic.
Hmm. That was a good idea. Heimdall’s origins were mysterious. He was rumored to the be the son of Odin and the Nine Waves, Nine sisters who were also bloodthirsty mermaids. I wasn’t sure Odin had a type other than the right anatomy. But...Heimdall was powerful. Possibly more powerful than Odin. It was whispered Heimdall could hear the wind shift a lamb’s wool on Midgard.
So perhaps I wouldn’t need magic at all. I pushed back inside of the bar and rushed down to where I kept all of the mead. In a corner of the dark room, I sat with my legs crossed in the lotus position, shut my eyes and calmed my breathing. I focused on the powerfully built guardian and sent his name into the aether.
“Heimdall…”
I continued breathing steadily and focused on him and Bifrost, the rainbow bridge connecting Midgard to Asgard. Heimdall guarded the entrance faithfully even though he knew he would die when Ragnarok finally came.
Of course, Ragnarok coming was about as likely as me going blonde and dating a biker, but...you never knew.
“Heimdall…”
There was no wind in the room but my hair stirred anyway.
Heimdall had heard me.
“Freya?”
I opened my eyes to see a shimmery image of the guardian in front of me. He wore a leather harness over his powerful chest where he kept two swords strapped across his back. Soft leather armor encased powerful legs and was tucked into calf-length dark leather boots. He wore no helmet because he was a total badass and needed no other armor.
“Heimdall,” I said and gave him a wobbly smile. I might not miss Asgard, but there were people I missed.
“We only have a few moments,” he said urgently. “Odin will know I’ve opened the portal and if it goes on for too long he will come up here to investigate.” His silvery eyes drank me in. “You look well, Freya. I assume you won’t tell me where you are?”
I shook my head. “We both know the answer to that one.”
A crooked smile crossed his face. “Aye. It’s better for me not to know. You’re safe, I trust?”
I nodded, though I could feel the smile slip.
“What is it?” he demanded.
“Have you heard anything...unusual lately?” I asked.
“Unusual how? Besides you blowing up the palace and leaving Odin in a legendary temper?” His eyes glittered with amusement.
“Sig showed up to where I was.”
Surprise flickered across his face. “Sig? Loki’s wife? What was she doing there?”
The truth settled into his face. “Loki is with you.” He shut his eyes for a moment. “This will not be something I share with Odin,” he said even as he chuckled. “Loki has it bad for you.”
I glanced down at the markings on my hand. “He’s here. He took the bond of fealty.”
Heimdall whistled low. “One thing I can say about that slippery little bastard...he isn’t afraid of anything.”
I smiled. “It’s true. I think he will make a good ally in the coming months.”
His gaze sharpened. “Ally?”
“Sig is dead, Heimdall.”
He reared back from the small portal like I’d struck him. “No.”
“We found her this morning. We don’t know how she died.”
“And Loki?”
“Devastated. He feels tremendous guilt.”
“Loki never loved her, Freya.”
“I know. But he feels responsible for it. She tracked him here.”
“And this is what you want to know.”
“Yes. Is it possible for someone to track through the bond even with magic standing to prevent it?”
Heimdall sat on the floor, his massive legs crossed. With every shift, his silver hair moved like silk. “It’s possible but unlikely. Their bond was frayed and fragile. Easily broken. She could track him, yes, but if you’re in a place where Valkyrie magic is being used, she shouldn’t have been able to find him.”
That was what I suspected. The realm of the Valkyries was untraceable and it was their magic combined with mine that was keeping this place secret. “How do you think she found me?”
“Has anyone else seen where you are?”
“Tyr and Baldur,” I told him. “But I don’t think they could see anything from where they were. There are no distinguishing landmarks here.”
“And everyone there is loyal?”
“They should be. Only those with the mark should have been able to pass through the portal.”
“Then I am at a loss. Sig shouldn’t have been able to track him, nor should she have been able to enter. Perhaps you should check your people one more time.”
“Aye, Heimdall. I will.”
His eyes softened. “Odin is furious. He doesn’t like it when his possessions get up and walk away.” He lowered his voice. “Though I am proud of you. Do not come back here if you don’t have to. Strengthen your wards and reinforce your magic as much as you can. He searches for you every day.” Heimdall’s eyes flickered over to the corner. “He comes. Farewell, Goddess of War.”
I raised a hand. “Farewell, Guardian.”
The portal closed with a flicker, every trace of magic gone. I stood and brushed off my skirts. I was going to have to go to every house and check to see if my magic was strong within my people. Perhaps I could have the witches help me figure out a way to shorten the time.
I rushed back upstairs. The bar opened in twenty minutes.
9
The crowd was even larger tonight. Before the door opened, I’d devised a low magic charm to hang above the entrance door. If anyone came in who didn’t have my best interests in mind, the charm would turn a deep purple and place an unnoticeable aura around the guilty party. Right now, the small charm was in a beige, muslin bag sitting in a spot where most people wouldn’t notice it. In fact, no one should.
It was so noisy in the place I could barely hear Gravelbeard making an ass out of himself in the kitchen. Usually the night’s specials were punctuated with curse words so blistering you’d want to escort your mother out of the room, but tonight the dwarf seemed...subdued. I needed to bring Eyra around a little more if it kept him quiet like that.
He threw up four specials and six baskets full of mozzarella sticks and said something that sounded suspiciously like, “Fucking kids aren’t going to be able to crap for a week!” and then something else that sounded like, “whaddya think cows grow on trees? Where the fuck does all this dairy come from, you bloody mozzarella guzzlers?”
I gave him a raised eyebrow and asked him to repeat himself, but he just rolled his eyes and climbed off his stool and lumbered back over to the hot grill.
And then he said, “One more basket of fucking mozzarella and I’ll split them in the head with my axes, the bloody nitwits.”
Gravelbeard’s English was picking up. Someone was teaching the dwarf some pretty creative curse words. I bit down a smile and sent the food over to the proper tables using just a touch of wind magic.
The mozzarella sticks here were really good. They were a popular Midgard food, but I’d snuck them up to Asgard every once in awhile. I sourced the cheese direct from Ireland from a pretty red-haired widow named Holly McCloud. We had no written agreement, but I paid her handsomely and she didn’t say a word when the cheese supply she packed for me disappeared right off of her supply table. Traveling to Ireland would be easy, but I was still trying to conserve as much magic as I could while Odin was still angry. So I brought it
to me. Less magic and much easier. Even though I promised Holly an ale next time I saw her, it would have to wait a little while. Leaving the most powerful man in Asgard wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do.
Every once in awhile I glanced at the charm above the door, but it stubbornly remained the dull beige it started as. I stepped out from behind the bar and began to walk among the tables, quietly testing the bond magic. There seemed to be nothing out of place.
How in the world had Sig gotten in here?
And why was she murdered?
Loki was MIA, though I really could have used his help with some of the tables. I was probably going to have to hire someone to help out. Gravelbeard had thrown a pretty epic fit when I mentioned getting him kitchen help. I had no idea how the dwarf was inside the kitchen doing that much by himself. Dwarves didn’t have magic. Just sheer stubborn persistence.
He didn’t want anyone with him, but I thought I might have to insist. At least until the customers died down. The bar was still brand new and we didn’t have enough other establishments open yet to serve them.
Okay. We had none. But I was planning on fixing that. Very soon.
As soon as we figured out why Loki’s wife was dead.
And if Odin had found me and was merely biding his time.
At 10 p.m., the doors to the bar opened and in strolled Eyra. She’d changed out of her typical leathers into a pair of soft buckskin pants and an emerald silk blouse she’d half tucked in the front. A wide silver necklace peeked through the open collar of the blouse and a plain silver bracelet on her left wrist were her only adornments. She wore high soft boots and had pulled her long blonde hair up into a soft messy bun.
No cosmetics graced the Valkyrie’s face, but I wasn’t surprised. Eyra was gorgeous and didn’t need any. She also wasn’t concerned with her appearance. I rarely saw her wear color so for her to show up tonight with such a strong green...I wondered if maybe she was actually serious about the old grizzled dwarf.
“Where’s my future husband?” she boomed as she walked into the place.
