by Ariella Moon
When we reached the front of the line, Morningstar beamed and said, "Greetings, Vikings!"
Thor cast me a bemused look before focusing on Morningstar. "Hail, wench!"
She giggled.
"Hey." I eyed the two men behind her, working the grill. They appeared clean and tidy, as if they followed the health code and kept their hair tied back and washed their hands. I decided to risk it. "Grilled cheese, please." As I pulled some cash out of my pocket, Thor told Morningstar, "We're together. Same check." To me, he said, "And I'm paying."
"Are you sure?"
"Yee-ah." He drew it out into two syllables as if he meant of course or are you kidding?
"Thanks." No one ever treated the rich girl — quite the opposite. I felt like he had placed a sparkly tiara on my head inscribed Special.
To Morningstar he said, "The Dusty Britches Platter, please."
"Any drinks?"
I tore my gaze from the brownies. "Just water, thanks."
"Make it two," Thor said. He reached over me and plucked the largest brownie from the tray. "And one appetizer."
"You eat it as an appetizer, and you won't want anything else," Morningstar warned.
"We'll risk it." He flashed a bring-it-on smile, and I wondered why a modeling agency or casting director hadn't discovered him yet.
"It's your funeral," she said. "I mean—" High color spread across her cheeks.
"What's the total?" Thor asked, nicely but abruptly.
Morningstar told him the amount. After he'd paid for our order, Thor staked out a table while I fetched the cleanest-looking silverware and napkins from the self-serve station. When I returned, he had already unwrapped the brownie and pushed it to the middle of the table.
I handed him the tableware and a napkin. "Did I forget anything?"
"Nope. Perfect. Thanks."
"You're welcome." As I watched, he cut the half-brick sized brownie into four pieces. With the knife, he pushed two of the pieces toward me, sliding them along the crinkled plastic wrap. They weren't exactly equal. My OCD coiled. I lifted one shoulder, then the other, trying to realign myself.
"Appetizer or dessert?" he asked.
"Hand me the knife."
"To a ninja? I don't know if I should," he teased, holding the knife out of reach.
I huffed out an anxious breath. He gave you the bigger half. Do not take the knife and shave off a sixteenth of an inch and push it back at him. I searched for a quick cover. "Then you cut my pieces into halves."
"Going for the lady-sized bites, eh?" He leaned forward and divided my two pieces into four neat squares.
"You caught me," I lied.
We each reached for a piece, making the size discrepancy less obvious. My anxiety wormed into the floor, and I mentally sent it deep into the earth and kicked a boulder over it.
The rattling of dishes, whirring of the blender, and chatter from the other tables faded away as I savored the divine chocolate. After I had made the bite last as long as possible, I asked, "How did your finals go?"
"Close to awesome." He wiped his buttery, chocolate-smudged fingers on a paper napkin. "You?"
"I had to take one before I came here. It sucked. The rest are waiting for me when I return." Regret swamped me. I should have been studying this morning instead of painting boxes Rhododendron pink and Mighty Aphrodite purple for the Kids' Corner castle.
Be in the present. "Where are you headed after high school?"
"I hope, college." His palm circled his heart.
"Have you picked a major?" I crossed my fingers, hoping he'd say astrophysics.
"Consciousness and Transformative Studies."
"Wow." I added it to my growing list of things to search online when I had some alone time with the store computer.
Before either of us could say more, a tattooed server stepped between us and asked, "Who had the grilled cheese?"
I raised my hand. "I did."
The heaping plates made tiny thuds as the server placed them on the table. "Anything else you need?" he asked.
Thor and I surveyed the table. "I think we're good," he said, throwing me a questioning look.
"Everything looks fantastic," I said.
"Cool." The server left.
I inhaled the comfort food smells, and straightened the two halves of my pre-cut sandwich before taking the first bite. We dug in. Thor finished his soup before moving on to his macaroni and cheese. He pushed back his sleeves, then tackled the salad. The light glinted off his medical alert bracelet.
I pointed my pickle at his wrist and asked, "An allergy?"
"Nah." He pulled his sleeve over the bracelet and eyed my half-eaten pickle.
I dropped the pickle onto my plate and snatched the last bit of sandwich. "If I leave to use the bathroom, will my brownie still be here when I return?"
Thor leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his ribcage, and shook his head. "First date, and already trust issues."
I popped the sandwich morsel into my mouth, chewed twice, then swallowed and summoned my sternest expression.
"Okay," he cracked. "But hurry. After seven minutes, my willpower vanishes."
"Every superhero has a weakness. You can have the rest of my pickle if it will buy me an extra minute."
"Deal." He leaned forward, snatched it, placed it on his empty plate, and then slumped back in his chair.
I rose and scanned the narrow hall behind him where the bathrooms were located. No line. Thor straightened in his seat. His amber-flecked eyes twinkled. "You think I'm a superhero?"
A familiar nudge pressed between my shoulder blades, igniting a sudden burst of dragon energy. I leaned down close enough to feel the warmth emanating from Thor's cheek and breathe in his lavender-and-sage scent. "I think you were once a dragon who flew over the Imperial City."
I pulled away and he caught my hand, sending delicious tingles up my arm. His eyes flickered. "Hurry back," he said, his voice low and husky.
Count on it.
In the sage-walled bathroom, the dragon energy ebbed away, leaving me with a slight buzz. I took care of business, then washed my hands — once. Standing on tiptoes, I checked my teeth in a mirror mounted so high on the wall, I suspected a giant had hung it. Using a fresh paper towel as a germ shield, I slid open the tarnished brass bolt and opened the door. A quick toss landed the towel inside the bathroom wastebasket. Chin high, I strode toward the dining area.
Thor sat sideways in his seat, watching for me. The plates had been cleared. Thor's half of the brownie had likewise disappeared.
"I must have been under the seven minute mark."
He stood and handed me the remaining dessert. "Indeed."
I fought the urge to cover my hands with my sleeves and cradled the treats. "Onward to Hidden Valley."
Thor left a tip, then we trooped out back. Left, right, left, parking lot. A vivid blue sky greeted us. I donned my sunglasses. Poor Jazmin and Rayne. I imagined them hunkered in their raincoats, slogging through lake-sized puddles on their way to seventh period. I hoped my parents were happily ensconced on deck chairs, reconciling.
We swerved around a half-sunken boulder and then came back together so closely our jacket sleeves rubbed. My abdomen fluttered. I willed him to clasp my hand again. Instead, he unlocked the car and opened the door for me.
"So polite for a Viking," I commented.
"I thought you said I was a dragon."
"Different lifetimes."
"Of course." He arched one brow. "You sound more like Terra and Esmun every day."
Dad would be horrified.
The door closed with a secure thud. I placed the plastic-wrapped bundle on my lap while I buckled my seat belt. Thor walked around to the driver's side, opened the door, and slid in. "What?" He glanced at the brownies perched on my knees. "You haven't eaten them yet?"
"Willpower. I'm channeling my inner ninja."
"Good to know." He twisted the key in the ignition.
I glanced about
the car's tidy interior. No soda cans. No empty water bottles. No fast food cups with the straws still stuck in the plastic tops. A spare pair of dark sunglasses hung from the rearview mirror. No spill stains on the floor mats or seats. He passed the cleanliness test.
The tires kicked up sand and small rocks as Thor negotiated the parking lot and headed for the main road. Almost immediately, he exited onto a side street and drove past a visitor's center. "Portia left me a voicemail."
I twisted in the seat to face him. "Did she come up with a solstice event?"
"Sorry. No. It was something her granddaughter had told her."
I slumped in the seat. Evie told her about Sophia. About my being committed. I envisioned my relationship with Thor imploding. He knows I'm crazy. He knows I'm crazy. He knows I'm crazy. My throat constricted. Hot tears threatened to crest my eyelids and trickle beneath my sunglasses. I wished my parents would surface so I could go home.
"The spell book is better. Portia had credited the drumming. But Evie thought it was because of you."
I sat up and wheezed air into my lungs. "Me?"
"Yep. Evie said the grimoire likes when magic rights a wrong."
"But I haven't done any magic. I wouldn't know how."
His expression grew incredulous. "You vanquished a demon and stopped Lucia and her creepy friend from poisoning Spiral Journeys with dark magic!"
"Oh. That."
"Yeah. That." Thor stuck out his fist and we knuckle-bumped. "Evie and her mother are driving down for Christmas. Maybe we'll get to meet them."
My heart nosedived to my feet. I twisted toward the side window so he couldn't see my panic. A dilapidated mobile home park came into view. "Is this where Jett lives?"
Thor slowed the car and glanced out my window. "Could be. There aren't too many trailer parks in town."
"Wow." It would be a long skateboard ride, scorching during the afternoon, and deserted and scary at night. The sign out front had a pocked, scoured-by-sandstorms look. Whirligigs stuck in cactus pots twirled in the wind. The concrete had been sprayed green around some of the doublewides; others sported plastic turf. No pool. No place for Isis or the other kids to play. I flashed on my custom two-story fort back home with its yellow plastic slide and red disc swings. I had outgrown it years ago. The surrounding oaks, with their brittle fallen leaves, had pretty much reclaimed it. I wondered how much it would cost to clean and ship it.
The car picked up speed again. We cruised past homes where the desert came right up to the front door. I imagined rattlesnakes and scorpions slithering and stalking across the threshold. My flesh crawled.
"Pretty isolated," Thor said.
I shook my head. "I couldn't do it."
"Me either, it's too far from civilization. Hospitals. School." His fingers tapped the steering wheel.
"Malls."
His gaze shifted from the road to me in a ten-second, head-to-toe appraisal, sweeping my French braid, caramel turtleneck sweater, hoodie, chocolate leather jacket, and skinny jeans. The amber flecks in his eyes gleamed. "You are such a girl."
"Thank you."
He threw me another sideways glance. A faint blush surfaced beneath his tan.
"What?"
"Just thinking about how the spell book likes true love."
"Does Evie realize spell books are inanimate objects? They don't have feelings or opinions."
"I need to teach you about magic."
The back of my head and shoulders tingled. I sensed a huge presence thrashing about the back seat as if trying to find a comfortable position. Thor must have sensed it too, because we glanced over our shoulders at the same time. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, and the color leached from his knuckles.
It didn't feel like my dragon. It felt older. Bigger. Thor didn't say anything.
Great. We're going to pretend it isn't there. "What were we talking about?"
"Love."
"Right. Terra and Esmun are in love." I wish my parents were. "And Betty and Arthur."
"True." Thor's hair ruffled forward as if blown by a breeze behind him. Hot air tinged with brimstone fouled the air. Thor pushed his hair out of his eyes and cleared his throat. "But the grimoire led Portia to us."
"Oh." My cheeks warmed and my neck felt splotchy.
Thor's fingers drummed against the steering wheel. "Maybe it meant you and Jett."
"Jett?" My voice raised an octave.
"No?" The car's tires crunched over a sand drift on the road.
"No way."
"I hear he does fire fortunes."
"Not when I want him to." Anger and frustration bubbled up. Time had run out. I had created a public relations disaster and had no way to fix it.
"Hmm." More finger drumming. "Portia said the spell book contains ancient magic." His eyebrows ticked up. "Hope it's not lost forever."
Like Sophia. My skin chilled.
"Evie thinks the grimoire likes you—"
"If she thinks I can restore the writing, she's wrong. Sometimes when things vanish, they stay vanished." Like friends with meth-head parents. Or the love between my parents.
"Hey." Thor cast me a sideways glance. "We're in this together." He pointed to his chest, then me.
"People I care about—"
"I won't disappear on you."
"You can't control the future."
We had reached the park entrance. Thor slowed the car to a stop, rolled down the driver's window, and flashed a pass at the ranger monitoring the station. His words floated in my mind. I wanted to believe him — wanted to believe he wouldn't disappear like Sophia. But bad things happen. Things we can't control.
"Haven't seen you in a while," the ranger, a thirty-something Latina, said. She handed Thor a color brochure. It flapped in the wind, folding back on her hand before he could snag it. Cold air whipped into the car.
"It's good to be back." Thor gave me the brochure. "This is Ainslie," he told the ranger. "I'm going to show her Hidden Valley." He shrugged his right shoulder as if trying to shake off something bothersome.
"Welcome," the woman said. "Enjoy your day at the park."
"Thanks!" I said.
As Thor drove forward and rolled up the window, I opened the brochure. The first words I noticed were Mohave Desert. Yes! This will so help me prepare for the Athenian Academy wilderness survival challenge! If nothing else, it would help me decide between the desert challenge and the Sierra foothills challenge. I located Hidden Valley on the map.
"It's a one-mile loop," Thor explained.
"Afraid I couldn't go a long distance?"
"More like I wasn't sure you had brought the right shoes."
Fair enough. So far he had seen me in stilettos, ballet flats, and flip-flops. "I brought my hiking boots!" Thank you, Mom.
I wriggled my toes, conjuring up memories of the last time I had worn them. It had been on our trip to Yellowstone the summer between eighth grade and ninth. Mom and Dad had hoped hiking among free-roaming bison and bears would somehow lower my anxiety and help me forget Sophia's disappearance. Driving back to our luxury condo one night, a lightning storm had lit up the Grand Tetons and frightened a herd of wild horses. Stirred by the storm and backlit by lightning, the horses had galloped across the mesa, their manes and hooves flying. The mountains had loomed behind them, purple with a mantle of white snow. The wild beauty had stolen my breath. In those moments, everything bad had slipped away.
Glancing at Thor, I had a feeling today would be the same.
Chapter Twenty-One
The brochure warned of people dying in the park from preventable accidents. Anxiety pooled at my feet. It eased as I read about flash flood dangers (not a cloud in the sky), snake activity (only in spring and summer), the danger of abandoned mines (didn't plan to explore any), and how you shouldn't go climbing unless you'd been properly trained and equipped (did climbing a faux rock wall on a cruise ship count?).
I totally had this.
"You're missing the scenery."
>
"Sorry." I folded up the pamphlet and examined the view. Cactus-like trees and gigantic jumbles of boulders the color of sun-bleached bones punctuated the desert. I am so not in Yellowstone. "Are those the Joshua trees?"
"Yep."
"They look like a cross between a pine tree and a cactus."
Thor's gaze left the road long enough to sweep the desert vista. "They're members of the lily family."
"You're kidding." Wind whistled against the car. The stiff, bristly-looking Joshua trees didn't move.
"Truth." He drew an x in the air in front of his chest. "Scout's honor."
I angled my head at him. "Were you ever a Scout?"
"Sure. Before we moved here from Seattle." His hair flew over his face again, and he raked it back with his fingers. He drove one-handed and fished a black ponytail elastic out of the console. We were on a straight stretch of road — no other cars around — but my anxiety still spiked when he released the steering wheel with both hands and tethered his hair.
When he gripped the wheel again, I released a relieved breath. "Why is the dragon trying to get your attention?"
"What dragon?" Thor's hands tensed. A sign ahead marked the entrance to Hidden Valley. Thor drove into the paved parking lot. He parked and cut the engine.
Invisible energy rustled the backseat. The ponytail holder broke and snapped against Thor's neck. "Ouch!" He clapped his hand over the angry welt.
I shook my head. "I don't know as much about magic as you do, but it seems like a bad idea to ignore a dragon. Maybe you should re-read the code."
"You're right." He glanced in the direction of the back seat. "My apologies."
We opened the car doors in unison. A cold wind shoved mine back. What is up with the weather today?
"Wait. Let me help," Thor said.
No way was I going to extend my leg until I was sure the car door wouldn't try to amputate it. Thor hustled around, his jeans and hoodie rippling in the wind, and held the door open.
"Maybe we should try a less windy trail," I suggested.
"It will die down." When I didn't move, Thor bent and said into my ear, "It's the dragon. She gets agitated in the park." He held out his hand. His eyes arrowed into mine, begging me to trust him.
