Urban Mythic: Thirteen Novels of Adventure and Romance, featuring Norse and Greek Gods, Demons and Djinn, Angels, Fairies, Vampires, and Werewolves in the Modern World

by C. Gockel

  “I’m Kristia.” I smiled shyly.

  “Oh right, the American.” She nodded, motioning for me to follow her down the hall. “This room is left, it has a nice flowerbox outside the window.” Pointing across the hall, she said, “I’m in there, and Emma’s taken that one.”

  I looked into the empty room. It looked identical to the other two without the clothes and makeup. I stepped through the door, tugging my suitcase with me. The room was simple. The twin bed hugged the wall to my right, opposite an armoire that would be both dresser and closet. The desk and chair were basic.

  A box outside the window held purple posies. That could be a problem – I had what Ardis affectionately called a black thumb. Poor posies.

  I didn’t have much to unpack, and I quickly took to task. The framed photo of Ardis and me at the Oregon Coast took the place of honor on the desk. Victoria was still drying her hair, so I grabbed the Mythology course book I’d purchased in advance and headed to the living room.

  I was well into the stories of the Norse myths that Mormor told me as a child when Emma came through the door laughing. She seemed like a happy person. Victoria was harder to read, but I had hopes for her.

  “Let me just pop in the shower, and we can go,” Emma called over her shoulder, shedding articles of clothing on her way to the bathroom. Victoria poked her head out of her room.

  “Are you ready for dinner?” She asked me. I glanced at her skinny jeans and beaded tank top, reading behind her words.

  “Uh, almost. I just have to change my… um, my shirt,” I guessed, jumping up so quickly I dropped my book on my toe. Dagnabbit, that stung. By the time I made it to my room, Victoria was spraying perfume on her wrists. I sensed my clothing selection would be widely different from hers. If her current outfit was any indication, Victoria was very trendy. My wardrobe was classic but functional. Slim jeans and slacks, fitted sweaters, tall boots. Proper cold-weather wear, courtesy of a lifetime in the Pacific Northwest and a grandmother who preached modesty. I rummaged through the armoire for one of my newer sweaters and changed my sneakers to a pair of brown riding boots. As I ran a brush through my wavy, dark-blonde hair, Victoria appeared with a patterned scarf.

  “This will go with your eyes,” she said simply.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, unsure what to make of my new roommate.

  “Oh, Victoria,” Emma emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and running a brush through her hair. “Stop ‘helping’ her.” Her fingers made quotes in the air. “You have all semester to give us makeovers.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and waved us into her room. “Victoria’s a fashion student. As her flatmate, you are officially her pet project, whether you want to be or not. Just accept it. I have.”

  “Oh, tush Emma. If I needed help with matters of mathematics, I would come to you. You know that. I can’t help that my specialty is more… practical than yours.” Victoria picked up a pair of earrings lying on Emma’s dresser and held them up to her ears.

  “Pardon me, but mathematics is highly practical. People use it every day. When was the last time you did math, huh? Actually don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.” Emma earned a ‘harrumph’ from our well-dressed flatmate, who moved to the armoire. Victoria returned, bearing a flowing top and skinny jeans. Defiance in her eyes, Emma pulled out another top and started to put it on. After a moment, she ruefully held out her hand. The gleam in Victoria’s eyes as she handed over her choice made me think this was not the first time they’d played this game, nor would it be the last.

  “She’s always right about clothes, you know,” Emma muttered begrudgingly as she dressed in Victoria’s chosen outfit. While I considered the pros and cons of having a live-in stylist, I decided this would be a good thing. If I wanted to blend in, Nehalem’s fashions weren’t going to do me any favors.

  When our outfits had been approved, we locked up the flat and walked to Victoria’s little car. Emma appointed herself tour guide. “So the first thing you need to know about Cardiff – the corner market up… here,” she gestured, “has the best biscuits. You Americans call them cookies. They bake them fresh every morning, but the packaged ones they sell on the side have chocolate and caramel. Delicious.”

  “Cookies are biscuits, and these are the best. Got it.”

  “The laundromat just behind us is less crowded than the one in our building–”

  “The cutest boys are always there,” Victoria finished.

  “Good information.” I was warming to my more reserved roommate.

  “Two blocks this way is the place we get our hair cut – it’s the best salon for the least money. You want to see Robyn. She’s great.” Emma was one of those enthusiastic people who managed the fine line between cheerful and annoying.

  Victoria was eager to point out her favorite places too – designer clothing shops that were well beyond my spending limit. Emma winked as she teased our flatmate, “And for the rest of us, the good people of H&M have opened a shop at the north end of town. I think you have them in America?”

  I nodded in response.

  “Great clothes, but mostly, I pick up the trendy things there, unlike Victoria here who picks up her odds and ends at Harrods each season.” Victoria rolled her eyes at us and I grinned at my new cohort.

  My tour continued on the short drive, and by the time we parked, I felt like I might actually have my bearings. But when we walked into the restaurant, I was overwhelmed by savory smells that were completely foreign. There hadn’t been a lot of new experiences in my life, and I wasn’t too sure about this one. The hostess led us to our table where a basket of flat bread was waiting. I poked at it suspiciously. Bread was supposed to be fluffy.

  I pointed to Emma as our waitress took our order. “I’ll have what she’s having.” Trying to make sense of the exotic dishes listed as entrees was hopeless. “What are you having?”

  “Chicken curry with rice. You’ll like it.” Her smile was reassuring, but I felt no relief whatsoever until the dish was in front of me and I took a tentative bite. I didn’t love it, but I didn’t hate it either. It was richer and spicier than I’d been expecting, but still good.

  “What about your classes,” I asked Victoria, bravely tearing off a piece of the curious bread. “What are you taking this semester?”

  “It’s not about what I’m taking,” Victoria emphasized. “I’m doing an internship for a very important fashion house. If I do well, they might let me stay on until I graduate; hopefully even hire me after. And then I’ll be on my way to designing my own line. That,” she sighed, “is everything I’ve ever worked for.”

  “Gosh, that would be incredible.” I nibbled at the bread cautiously. It tasted bready enough so I dipped it in the curry.

  Emma rolled her eyes. “But until then, Victoria can live quite comfortably working for her family’s party-planning business. They’re one of the top companies in Wales, and Victoria goes home every other weekend to help out. If we’re lucky, she’ll take us. Her family has an amazing country house. And her mum’s roasts are super.”

  “That’s true; my mum is a fabulous cook. So is my sister. The whole family loves to cook, really. Well, my dad grills. I bake – I’m not much for the regular kind of cooking. Just the sweet stuff.”

  “Tell me about it. Dinners in our flat are nothing to get excited about.” Emma admitted.

  “I can cook,” I volunteered. “I’m actually pretty good at it.”

  “Thank God,” Victoria breathed. “You cook. I’ll make desserts.”

  Emma laughed. “Guess that leaves me to clean up.”

  Well, that was settled easily enough.

  “So you spend a lot of time with your family?” I asked Victoria. I’d barely seen my own parents growing up; the idea seemed foreign.

  “Victoria’s family does everything together,” Emma explained. “It’s kind of weird.” Victoria rolled her eyes and Emma laughed. “I can’t hate her too much, even though she’s a beast of a fashion critic.”


  “Of course, it’s still nice to get back to Uni.” I liked her word for University. “Everyone needs their space, even fabulous, future fashion designers.”

  “Future being the key word. When are you going to give my wardrobe a break?”

  “Hey, enjoy me now while you can still afford me. That goes for you too, K,” Victoria winked, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  We finished our meal and paid the bill. We were walking the short distance to Victoria’s car when I saw him. At least, I thought it was him. I stared at the window of the pub across the street, nearly positive I was looking at the blond from the British Museum. He sat in profile, laughing at the animated gestures of a brown-haired guy sitting across from him. He looked relaxed and happy, nothing like the cranky Viking I’d met the day before. The darker-haired guy had one arm slung around a ridiculously hot, blonde girl. Viking’s side of the booth was empty. I wondered where his date was.

  “Coming Kristia?” Emma and Victoria were shivering at the car.

  “Sorry,” I hustled to join them, “I thought I saw somebody I knew.”

  “Who was it?” Victoria started the car and cranked the heater up to full blast.

  “Just some guy I saw in London. But it probably wasn’t him. What are the odds, right?”

  “Stranger things have happened.” Emma shrugged. “Now how about some hot cocoa?”

  Back in our flat, we said our goodnights and headed to our rooms. I lay in bed listening to the occasional car pass outside my window, too wound-up to sleep. My first day was under my belt, I was making friends, and I hadn’t had an unwanted vision since yesterday. This year might just be okay. My mind drifted to the blond stranger, and my stomach flipped. Was he really here in Cardiff? What was he doing in the pub? Obviously, he was having dinner, but what did that mean? Did he go to school here? Would I see him again?

  I forced myself to stop asking questions. The guy hated me on sight. He obviously had issues. And Cardiff was a huge school – we’d probably never run into each other. There was no point in barking up that tree.

  Eventually, I fell asleep, and it didn’t take long for my recurring nightmare to begin. It was different this time. The sun was low in the sky, and the wolf and the snake were moving across a field. I was mercifully absent. As the earth was covered in frost. As the light began to dim, a lone figure stood in a field of English lavender. He faced the onslaught without a hint of fear: my devastatingly handsome, ill-behaved, blond stranger.

  Chapter 3

  My mood was jubilant when I slid into a seat near the middle of the lecture hall on Tuesday morning. It was my first day of school, and I’d always enjoyed listening to a good professor talk about the subject they’d dedicated their life to. Plus, there was nothing more satisfying than typing perfectly-outlined lecture notes – roman numerals, proper headings, the whole kit and caboodle. Today would be a good day.

  I untied my scarf as the uncomfortable prickling sensation tickled the back of my neck. My hair bounced against my shoulders while I turned left and right, but nobody was looking at me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him standing in the doorway of the hall, staring right at me. It was the boorish Viking. The guy I figured I’d never see again, and whose stare was making me wish I’d been right. His eyes never left mine as they morphed from furious to confused to sad. Sad was an improvement over the fury I’d seen in London, but his reaction was still weird. I hadn’t done anything to this guy, and here he was again, making me feel like I’d kicked his puppy with a steel-toed boot.

  Well, two could play at that game. I met his eyes with my own determined look. I’d come to this school for a fresh start, and I wasn’t about to let some guy intimidate me.

  Students streamed by to take their seats, pausing to stare at the stranger’s unnatural beauty. The girls snuck glances at the soft jeans and fitted sweater that failed to conceal his impressive musculature. My unladylike thoughts fluttered against my will.

  The boys’ looks were more resigned, tinged with barely-concealed envy. But the stranger stood still, staring at me, heartbreaking sorrow lining his features. I self-consciously tugged at the hammer of my necklace. The gesture caught his eye, and as he looked down at my neck, his features hardened in anger, nearly settling into the fury I’d seen in the museum. He stormed to take a seat in the back of the hall, never breaking his glare. I glared back until he looked away. Take that, Viking. I thought I’d put on a pretty good show, but when I turned back to my computer my hands were shaking.

  Thankfully, Professor Carnicke took the podium and the hall fell silent as she began her lecture. “Mythology.” She wrote on the board as she spoke in a clear voice. “The study of folklores.” Professor Carnicke was a graceful woman in her thirties, with shoulder-length hair the color of wet sand. She stood at the front of the room with the poise of a dancer. “Early cultures used myths to make sense of a confusing world, to explain the origin of mankind, and to create a sense of history and belonging. We will be focusing on three primary mythological studies: the Norse, the Greek, and the Eastern. We begin with the Norse.

  “The Norse mythology begins with a trio of prophets. The Three Sisters were the primary Norns – seers, if you will – tasked with predicting the fates of gods and mortals. Urd, Verandi and Skuld lived at the Well of Fate and gave water to the Life Tree, Yggdrasill. They supervised a team of lesser Norns who traveled the realms predicting the fates of humans, elves, and non-titled gods. It was the Three Sisters who predicted the fall of Asgard at the epic battle of Ragnarok.

  “Ragnarok was Asgard’s final battle. Dark elves, fire giants, and jotuns attacked together and most of the gods were slain, so mankind could prosper. This myth resonates as a common theme in many creation stories.”

  Despite the rugged stranger glaring in my direction, the lecture was off to a fine start. On the one hand, Professor Carnicke was one of the good teachers who spoke really passionately about what she taught. The kind I took detailed notes from. On the other hand, I didn’t need to turn around to know that a very large man was boring angry beams into the back of my head from the last row of the lecture hall. The ninety-minute class seemed to go on forever as I concentrated on the feel of the keyboard under my fingers and the clarity of the professor’s voice. I didn’t raise my head from my computer screen until I heard Professor Carnicke close her textbook. She walked towards her briefcase and put the book inside.

  “That’s all for today, ladies and gentlemen. Read ahead fifty pages, and be prepared to discuss the tragedy of Ragnarok when next we meet.” The room began to buzz as students made plans for lunch. I glanced at my computer. The screen was filled with well-organized notes, but I was annoyed that I couldn’t recall a word Professor Carnicke had spoken. My mind had been too full of images of an angry, blond Apollo to process much else.

  I packed up my bag, tied my scarf around my neck, and stood to leave. He’d gone before I made it to the back of the room. Shaking my head, I walked into the chilly, Welsh air. The stranger was nowhere to be seen. His anger made no sense. But then, I had no idea how guys operated. I was lost as a goose in a snowstorm in every possible way.

  I made my way toward the Student Union to meet Emma.

  “You must be talking about Ull Myhr. Tall, blond, super fit. Unbelievably gorgeous,” Emma drew out each syllable, nearly salivating over the words. I was telling her about my morning, over a cup of tea.

  “That’s the one.” Ull Myhr. What a name. I’d never met a boy named Ull in Nehalem. Then again, I’d only met about thirty boys close to my age in Nehalem, three of whom were named Mike. Emma sipped at her tea absentmindedly. “You know, I had a course with him last semester. It turned out to be my favorite subject.”

  “Oh? What subject?”

  “Don’t recall,” she giggled. “He’s kind of hard not to notice. But he’s a senior, so he’s out of here at the end of this year. Pity. He’s one of Cardiff’s high points, as far as I’m concerned. And I’m not alone.”


  “Right.” My attempt at nonchalance fell completely flat.

  “Not like it matters though,” Emma shook her head, “He doesn’t exactly mingle with the underclassmen. I’ve only ever seen him really talking to two people – a guy and a girl who are just as hot as he is – but I don’t know their names. I’ve heard they all live together off campus, but that’s all I know about Ull Myhr. He’s half man, half myth around here. But I wouldn’t mind finding out a lot more, if you know what I mean.” Her giggles made me smile.

  “Does he seem, uh, angry, to you?” Or terrifying? Beyond irritating?

  “No.” Emma was surprised. “If anything he looks almost… amused. It’s like this whole university experience is funny to him.”

  Well, maybe I could chalk his general jerkiness up to a bad week. He obviously wasn’t himself.

  “Do you want me to make chicken parmesan for dinner tonight?” I changed the subject.

  “Ooh, yes. Please. Supper has been so much more enjoyable since you moved in with us. Thanks for taking on so much of the cooking. Victoria’s dinners were okay, but we all know baking is her culinary strong suit. And I once burned noodles. Honest.”

  “I don’t mind, really. My grandma and I always cooked together. It makes me feel at home.”

  “Well, I don’t want you to feel like we’re taking advantage of you. You’re just better at it than we are.”

  “Not at all. I don’t have to clean up, and Victoria makes dessert every night. Hey, we might want to talk about that by the way. I’m going to leave this place considerably larger if she keeps making bread pudding.” I patted my stomach.

  “No way!” Emma laughed. “I’m not giving up nightly goodies for the sake of your figure. Americans are too obsessed with appearances, anyway. Oh and speaking of appearances, James Percy from across the courtyard asked me about you. He thinks you’re really cute.”