Hammer of the Gods

by B. D. MacCallum

  The restaurant held a decent number of diners for the time of day – it could triple, or more, until people struggled elbow to elbow to feed themselves, the less fussy standing in a corner, holding their plate in one hand. Most gave them a quick glance before returning to their conversations. Two Thor did not recognize studied them a while longer, giving Thor the impression they were deciding how to dispose of the bodies.

  “Thor!” a female voice shouted, and a short, rail-thin, white-haired woman rushed forward, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Giovanni, Thor’s here!” She stepped back, giving him a scrutinizing glare. “You’re so thin! Doesn’t that French woman feed you?”

  The woman had no room to talk, Thor could feel nothing but bones held together with tough sinew beneath her cotton blouse as they embraced.

  Giovanni appeared from the kitchen door, wiping his thick-fingered hands on a towel. A broad smile formed beneath the bulbous nose that had been broken twice during the man’s youth. “Thor!” the man shouted, rushing forward, and embracing Thor with a bear-hug.

  “No pretty girls today, eh?” The broad-shouldered man seemed disappointed and surprised.

  “Not today, Giovanni.” Thor chucked. Despite the old man’s rough appearance, he was a hopeless romantic that considered a man without a good woman half a man. “This is Martin.”

  “Come… Come,” Giovanni said, ushering the two men to an empty table. “Any friend of Thor’s is welcome. Are you two hungry?”

  Thor clutched his stomach with both hands, giving the old chef his most pitiful look. “Sono affamato!”

  “Hah!” Giovanni laughed. “You’re always starving!” He gestured to the chairs. “Sit, sit. I’ll get you something to eat.” The third-generation chef trotted to the kitchen, briskly rubbing his massive hands together.

  Rosa ducked away, returning in a few minutes with a pitcher of water, a bottle of Lambrusco, and glasses. She poured two glasses of water, three glasses of wine, then sat next to Thor. She leaned close. “My husband’s good food isn’t the only thing you two need, is it? I heard about Sicily, and all the trouble in Greece.”

  Thor took a sip of wine, then sighed. “We need a safe place to sleep.”

  The old woman grinned, giving a firm nod. “And you have it. You two will stay with us.”

  Thor shook his head, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Too dangerous for you. Diavolo will come looking for us.”

  Rosa smiled, giving Thor’s hand a pat. “If he comes hungry, we’ll feed him. If comes thirsty, we’ll bring him wine. If he comes for you, we’ll send him back to Hell, empty handed.” She tapped the side of her wine glass with a knife. The restaurant fell silent. She tapped it twice more, paused, then added a third.

  Twenty men and women rose to their feet, moving tables close together here, further apart there, then sat back down to their meals as if nothing had happened. The barrier they created was nearly imperceptible, with a clear path for a quick retreat to the rear. Two burly men moved from a central table to the one closest to the door, a well-practiced move Thor had never witnessed firsthand. Apparently, the rumors that Rosa’s side of the family was “connected” were more than just rumors.

  I’ve really got to learn to pay closer attention to the people I hang around!

  Rosa held out her hand. “Did you drive that orange monstrosity?”

  Thor handed her the keys, and she tossed them to a dark-haired man. He casually dabbed his napkin to his mouth, stood, then slipped out the door, never to be seen again. A stranger would become concerned at this point, but he and Ann were well-known in the neighborhood. Thor could have left the windows down with the engine running, and someone would turn the engine off before she ran out of gas, and rolled up the windows if it started to rain.

  “A good woman would keep you out of these situations,” Rosa said with an arched eyebrow.

  “A good woman put me in this situation,” Thor replied, smiling. He pulled his phone from his pocket, brought up a photo of Sorina, and handed it to Rosa. “Her name is Sorina.”

  A broad smile crinkled the old woman’s face as she studied the image. “Oh, Thor, she’s beautiful! You’ve done very well. This woman will love you till the end of time!” She showed the image to the dark-haired woman at the next table, receiving an agreeing nod and broad smile, then handed back the phone. “I hoped it would’ve been one of my granddaughters.”

  “What makes you say that she’ll love me like that?” Thor asked.

  The dark-haired woman at the next table snorted loudly. “She knows!” She stepped behind Thor, lifting his shirt, then exchanged knowing-smirks with Rosa. “You’re in deep, young man. This Sorina has marked her territory.” Her eyes fell on Martin like a cat that just spotted a fat mouse, giving the man a smile. “What about you, quiet one. Do you have a woman in your life?” her voice so sweet it dripped honey.

  “I uh… am currently unattached.” He looked to Thor for help.

  “Really?!” The woman’s voice carried musical tones. Her table drew closer, as if by magic.

  “Lilly, Martin. Martin this is Lilly.” Thor placed a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “I don’t care what you think she said, agree to nothing!”

  “I am insulted,” Lilly said, frowning.

  “You are flattered,” Rosa said with a laugh.

  Lilly gave Thor a sheepish grin and a wink. “Perhaps, just a bit.”

  Giovanni took Thor at his word; more food than ten people could handle found its way to their table. One bottle of wine turned to two, then three. People began to filter into the restaurant in ones, twos and threes, and an hour-and-a-half later, the restaurant was filled to capacity, with a hefty overflow spilling into the street. Music filled the air, chairs had been pushed aside for dancing, and Thor and Martin found themselves neck-deep in a full-blown celebration.

  “What are we celebrating?” Martin asked, peering at the sheer size of the crowd.

  “Your engagement!” Thor laughed at Martin’s stunned expression. “I warned you not to agree to anything!”

  * * *

  During the dark hours long after midnight, a pair of dark eyes glanced with disgust at the two bodies before the trunk lid closed. The man wipe his hands on a worn handkerchief, tossing the blood-stained cloth into a trash can without another thought. Down the alley, another man lit a cigarette: the “all clear” signal, and the man slipped behind the wheel and drove away with caution. By sunrise, the bodies would be nothing but memory, the car in a thousand pieces.

  Neither Thor nor Martin would ever learn the Devil had come for them, disguised as a young couple that had changed their appearance and abandoned their white Fiat for a silver Audi. Or that Rosa’s promise had been kept.

  Chapter 43

  Setting the Trap

  Bryndis thought that after nineteen years with Thor, she knew him as well as any woman could know a man. The past few weeks taught her how foolish a thought that had been. It was doubtful another bone would fit into that man’s closet full of skeletons.

  She moved the curtain a fraction of an inch, peering into the darkness, and wondering how long Thor had kept this apartment on Rue Lepic a secret. The fact that it existed was nowhere near as disturbing as the question of when the Hel he found the time to use it, frequently from what she recently discovered.

  A block away, the sky above Moulin Rouge glowed from the hundreds of gaudy circus lights adorning the building. The sounds of music and revelry floated on the breeze, making her anger with Thor worse. With its close proximity to a veritable smorgasbord of trollops to be found visiting that establishment, it was easy to see why he chose this particular apartment. Part of Bryndis wondered why he bothered; there had to be a spare room near the famed establishment somewhere with a filthy mattress on the floor, or pallet in a back alley to fulfill his whorish behavior.

  Dear Gods, listen to yourself Bryndis. You’re acting like a jealous lover… or a mother. She sighed. If anything, I’d be an older sister; not much older, mi
nd you! Thor’s right, I am losing my identity… Please be safe, little man! She closed her eyes, willing it to be so.

  Bryndis jumped at the soft rap on the door. “Oui?” she called nervously.

  A muffled male voice with a thick French accent came from the other side of the door: “I have brought you some food, mademoiselle.”

  She cracked the door, peering behind the smiling, middle-aged man standing in the hall. Henry had not been surprised at all when two women showed up at the apartment; only that Thor was not with them. You are such a whore, Thor Odinsson!

  “Thank you, very much. You shouldn’t have gone to such trouble.” She relieved the man of his Burdon, her mouth watering at the delicious smell emanating from the covered tray.

  “No trouble at all, “he said with a smile. “My wife, Sophie, has a soft spot for Thor.”

  In her head, Bryndis thought. Just like every other woman he graces with a smile.

  “Oh, in nearly forgot.” He fished a bottle of wine from the cloth bag strapped to his wrist. “I didn’t know if Thor had replenished his stock, from the last time he was here.”

  “Which was?” Bryndis asked, her eyebrow cocked and as pleasant a smile as she could force to her lips.

  “Ah…” the man’s eyes shifted nervously from Bryndis to Sorina.

  “Thank you, Henry” Sorina said, letting the man off easy. She took the bottle from the man. “You generosity is greatly appreciated.”

  Henry smiled, gave a quick incline of his head, and retreated even quicker.

  “Promise me one thing,” Bryndis said, after the door was closed. “You will make Thor suffer for this.”

  Sorina pursed her lips, glancing at the wine bottle. “You agreed to his plan.”

  Bryndis sat the tray on the counter. She had not realized how hungry she was until she smelled the food. “No, not that. This little hideaway of his.”

  Sorina glanced about. “I think it’s a beautiful apartment. You’re just irritated that you didn’t know he had it.”

  “Furious, actually.”

  Sorina opened the wine, then retrieved two classes from the cupboard. “How could you protect him, when he has a place to hide. How many more does he have? How many times has he made you worry, needlessly.”

  Bryndis pointed her finger. “Exactly!”

  Sorina cocked her head, a thoughtful expression covering her face. “How old was Thor, when he asked you to protect him?”

  Bryndis gave her a sharp look. “I asked Vali… I begged him, actually.”

  Sorina sniffed the cork, nodding her approval. “I see.”

  Bryndis closed her eyes, sighing. When she opened them again, she stared into Sorina’s, wondering why she felt such a kindred with a woman she barely knew. The dark-haired woman was beautiful and cleaver; Hel, the woman had wisdom beyond her years. Certainly more than that fool man of hers! If a true need arose to make Thor suffer, Bryndis had the feeling Sorina could make it happen with unbelievable ease. Perhaps it was time to pass the torch, Sorina seemed more than willing to accept it, despite her intelligence.

  Bryndis pulled two plates from the cupboard. “Use your powers only for good.” She cocked an eyebrow, flashing Sorina a mischievous grin.

  Sorina placed her hand to her heart, inclining her head slightly. “I promise!”

  They sat at the small table, the dish of braised rabbit and vegetables between them. Sorina poured the wine, while Bryndis divided their dinner. If it was half as delicious as it looked and smelled, the two of them were in for a treat.

  Sorina took a sip of wine, setting the glass down slowly, her face growing pale. “Bryndis…”

  Bryndis Angantýrsdóttir turned her head slowly. Two men stood in the doorway, pointing pistols at them. What took you so long?

  * * *

  A Saab JAS Gripen streaked across the night sky over southern Greece, heading arrow-strait for the target on the screen.

  According to Thor, the beast was attacking ships and buildings that he had visited, personally, bypassing those he had not. It seemed a reasonable conclusion the creature was hunting by scent, destroying what it perceived important to Thor; which is exactly why this part of the plan made no sense at all to Else. It was, most likely, the stupidest thing he had ever done! Worse, she was helping him do it!

  “Almost there, Else,” Baynard’s voice said in her ear.

  Within the next few minutes, the man would disappear like the rest of them. A pity, Else was just getting used to having them around. They made her feel… normal.

  “I have him in my sights,” Else replied. “Get yourself into the wind.”

  There was a soft laugh coming through the headphones. “Just as soon as this is done.”

  Else climbed, then looped into a dive. If you wanted Sorina dead, you should let me put a bullet in her head, not this! She fired the missal. There was no violent eruption upon impact; instead, the missal shattered, releasing the bed sheet contained inside. The white linen cloth tumbled in the breeze, then became entangled in the branches of an olive tree. That farmer’s going to have a tale to tell for years to come.

  Else banked hard, coming around for another dive. She fired two more missals directly at the beast for good measure, laughing when the Hellfires lit-up the darkness. Thor would be irritated if he knew what she had just done, but who was going to tell him?

  That’s for Mikki! I know it didn’t kill you, but I hope it gave you a great deal of pain!

  “Au revoir, mademoiselle,” Baynard said quietly.

  “Auf wiedersehen, mien freund. Take care of yourself.”

  “We’ll see each other, again. I promise.” Then the signal was gone, and Else was alone in the dark sky, with nothing but the ghosts of the past to keep her company.

  Else headed north, hoping the promised refueling plane would be where it was supposed to be. The thought of ditching this beautiful bird made her cringe, but not nearly as bad as the thought of walking to civilization, in the dark… with that thing out there. God, I miss my Blackhawk. And god, if you’re listening… please don’t let me just have helped to get Sorina killed, I was just beginning to like her.

  * * *

  Nwabudike Adeyemi stood on the bridge, hands clasped behind his back and statue-still, as he stared into the darkness. Outwardly, he was the perfect picture of calm, a practiced disguise that served to hide the sheer terror he was feeling at this moment.

  He and his men knew nothing of Thor’s plan beyond the part they played – no one did – only that it required near-perfect timing, or the chances of any of them surviving would be reduced to zero. Not a very comforting thought.

  Too slow! We’re moving too slow! There was less than two hours of darkness left, and many, many more miles to cover. Timing was the key to this mission. Everything would be thrown off if he wasn’t in place at the critical time. Every military man understood the concept of “Hurry up and wait”. Nwabudike understood how horribly things could go awry trying it the other way around.

  He glanced at Julia’s reflection in the glass. Years ago, she had been beautiful enough to make men war over her. She still was. “Shouldn’t we pick up speed?”

  “No,” the woman replied, then made a slight adjustment.

  Nwabudike steadied himself against the small change in course. “We could – “

  “Ruin everyting!” Julia snapped. She looked up from the monitor. “No one is more frightened den I. I don know how dat bwoy did it, but not even satellites can track us. We can’t hide from the naked eye – Give da bwoy a few more years, I’m sure he’ll take care ‘o dat, too! – but we may as well start shooting up signal flares now, if we’re in da wrong place at da wrong time!”

  “He is the smartest man I’ve ever met, but he has no military training.” Nwabudike sighed, squeezing the numbness from his fingers.

  Julia chuckled softly. “He may not have my blood in his veins, but he has more Gramma Julia in his head dan anyone knows. Or hadn’t he proved dat to ya already?”


  Nwabudike turned to face the woman. He knew she was right, of course; the woman played many “interesting and educational” games with the young man since birth. Their time in Romania proved Thor learned very well. It was just he didn’t know how vital he and his men were to the plan, and he hated the not knowing, it was the part that usually got everyone killed.

  He nodded, then started for the door.

  “I know ya tink ya owe Vali,” Julia said catching Nwabudike by the arm. “But dat debt was paid long ago.”

  He stared into her eyes, feeling the warmth of the gold pendant against his chest. He remembered how he felt the day he heard the men responsible for the destruction of his village had all been decapitated in the street, and the unconfirmed rumors that a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, white man was behind the killings. “Not if I live to be a thousand.”

  Chapter 44

  The Long, Strange Journey

  Early afternoon sunlight flooded the small apartment above Piccolo Gioiello, the stifling heat and humidity making the cramped quarters unpleasant. It was the kind of hot summer day that gave rise to thoughts of a cold drink and a long nap, neither of which were in Thor’s future.

  Thor sat at the small kitchen table, sipping a cup of too-sweet coffee, and staring at the tablet screen. The coffee had grown cold, but not cold enough to keep sweat from trickling down between his shoulder blades. The tablet – thanks to Baynard Arnaud – showed Hróðvitnir’s every movement, and refreshed every five minutes. The damned thing was resting in a grove of trees, after moving all night long; Thor considered the beeline north an R.S.V.P. to his invitation. He compared the screen to the dots marked on the map spread over the table to make sure nothing had been overlooked, and nothing had.