by Ben Zackheim
“Hurry up before I change my mind,” he said.
The back room was pitch black. My hands went straight for the top Glock in my back harness. I couldn’t imagine this guy starting a fight but I’d seen weirder shit in my time as a Spirit agent. With a distant click the room lit up, swamped with a green hue of florescent light that made the place even creepier. The room had a low ceiling over where we stood. But the floor sloped down lie a ramp ahead of us while the ceiling stayed the same height. The bottom of the room was about 100 feet below us. We walked past metal shelves packed with boxes, some of them packed to the breaking point with who knew what.
“Are you the owner?” I asked.
“No one owns the museum,” he said in that clear way Icelanders speak. “It belongs to the people.”
“Just what I’ve always wanted,” Rebel said, looking around at the stock.
“Rebel…”
“No, it’s fine,” the man said. “I’ve heard every phallic joke you can think of.”
“Don’t challenge her,” I said. She smiled, clearly hoping he’d do just that. “I’m Kane. This is Rebel.”
“Your birth name is Rebel?” he asked.
“Yeah. Why?”
“It’s unusual, no?”
“So’s framing antique dicks.”
“Fair enough. Are you one?”
“Am I an antique dick?”
“A rebel.”
I didn’t know how the conversation was going to go. If he pissed her off he’d regret it. She smiled and I relaxed.
“I’m more of a dick,” she said.
His back was to us as he led us down the long hall, but I heard him chuckle.
“I’ve been called the same,” he said. “People enjoy making fun of what we do, but that’s just modern prudishness. The phallus has been a symbol of power since the beginning of time.”
“So we’ve heard,” I said.
“Not just human time, either. It’s celebrated in our myths, our religions, our architecture and in the very way human thought is structured. We can joke about it as much as we want but, in the end, it’s a symbol that will outlast humanity itself.”
“So you’re saying it has great stamina,” I said. Rebel snorted. Curator man didn’t say anything.
We reached the bottom of the long hall. I could make out the end of the storage space, a steel door about 50 feet ahead of us.
“We have here a bundle of unidentified specimens. Some may not even be phalli but we store them here until enough funds come in to study them properly.” He popped the top off of a wood crate. It was filled with bubble wrapped bundles. He pulled off his glasses and swapped them for some bifocals. He shuffled to a nearby work table where he flicked a switch and bathed us in even more green light from a lab lamp.
“Will you help me, please?” He gestured to the box. I hoisted it up and laid it gently next to him. All three of us reached into the box and spread the packages across the table. He sat in a high stool and turned to us with a big friendly smile. “I am Sergei. It is good to meet you both.” I guess we’d passed his test, whatever it was.
“Yeah, good to meet you too, Sergei,” I said.
He leaned over and inspected the labels. He made two piles. The packages on his left grew higher and higher, while the stack on the right trailed.
After ten minutes of sorting he sat up straight. The big pile was a couple dozen. The small pile was three. He shoved the small pile aside and handed me a specimen from the large pile. It was about five pounds.
“Unwrap, please,” he said while handing Rebel one of her own.
Mine was mummified. Its off-white surface made it look like a cucumber dropped in chalk. I guess it could have been human. I inspected it for anything unusual. Besides the fact that it was five pounds, mummified.
We got through about half of them before Rebel said, “Look at this.”
Sergei and I stood behind her. She held up what was clearly a human specimen. Three inches. We squinted to see where her long, sharp nail was pointing.
“Is that a tattoo?” I asked. It was a small bluish black blob to the naked eye. But it had a design to it which told me it probably wasn’t an ancient venereal disease. At least I hoped not.
“I think so,” she said.
“Hm,” Sergei said, nodding his head. “You would be good at this job. Let me see.” He grabbed it out of her hand and laid it on the table. I tried not to crack a joke but I was losing the battle. Rebel shot me a look that shut me up.
Sergei examined it under a large magnifying glass for a minute.
“So?”
He turned quickly, as if he’d forgotten we were there. His brow was tight. His lips were pursed. He was thinking about something. Hard. I knew we were onto something. I also knew he was trying to think about what he should tell us. The only way to stop someone from lying, in my experience, was to call them out before they said a word.
“Don’t lie,” I said simply. Nordic types like simple. He could tell I was serious. That’s also something Nordic types like.
He exhaled deeply and his shoulders hunched. He leaned on his cane and worked his way back to standing.
“It is a tattoo, yes,” he said. “I don’t know how we missed it before. The item came in during Silas’ tenure. He was awful at this job so that’s probably the best explanation.”
“What’s the tattoo?”
“It’s a Triskelion. Three legs running around a circle, like hands of a clock.”
“That’s the Celtic symbol for competition,” I said. “How old is it?”
“This phallus is dated to about 1400 AD but that is an estimate done by my predecessor.”
“Why is it with the unknown pile if you can tell it’s human just by looking at it.”
“I don’t know the answer to that, I’m embarrassed to say.”
“Don’t sweat it, Sergei,” Rebel said, patting him on the shoulder.
“Wait,” he said, eyes wide. “Look at this.”
There was another mark on the other side of the shaft. Sergei studied it under the magnifying glass.
“What is it? Another tattoo?”
“Two tattoos,” he said. “Mjölnir above Yggdrasil.”
Chapter 33
Wait.
A dick with three tattoos on it? First of all, what the fuck was wrong with this guy? Three tattoos on the sacred pole? Really?
Second, that meant he had tats of the Celtic symbol for competition, the Viking symbol for Mjölnir and the Viking symbol for the Tree of Life.
What came to mind? A simple, serious clue.
A competition for Mjölnir at the Tree of Life.
Could it be that straight forward? I guess Vikings weren’t known for their subtlety.
I could almost hear the brain gears churning in the silence when I thought of something else.
It was a huge leap of logic but leaps of logic were as common as leaps over thousand foot drops in this business.
But I was the only one with enough guts to say it out loud.
“So this couldn’t be Thor’s Jolly Roger, right?”
“Thor’s Hammer,” Rebel said.
“It always cums back,” I answered.
“Let’s assume it is Thor’s thousand watt lightpole,” Rebel said. “Let’s review. That means that the shield’s hidden message has led us to his member, which leads us to the tree.”
“And the competition will be at the tree.”
“Just to be clear,” Sergei said. There was a slight whine to his voice. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sorry, Sergei,” I said. “We need to get to the Tree of Life. Looks like we have some business to take care of there.”
“Valhalla,” he said, simply.
“Where the hell is Valhalla?” I asked.
“Exactly,” Sergei said.
Rebel frowned at him. “Excuse me?”
“My apologies,” the small man said, bowing his head. “There are two modes of thought
about Valhalla among scholars. The first theory is that it’s a kingdom in the sky. The second theory is that Valhalla is underground. Somewhere near Hel.”
Rebel looked at me, eyes wide.
“The other big door,” she said.
“What door?” Sergei asked.
“When we were at Hel’s door to get the hammer, there was another massive stone door just across from Hel’s entrance.”
“You were at Hel’s door? Did you see the guardian dog?”
“He’s a cat.”
Sergei looked disappointed.
“But Coleslaw said that the church’s portal to hell is closed off,” I said. “How are we going to get down there?”
“We’ll have to find a way back,” Rebel said. “It’s our only lead.”
Sergei held his hands up like a traffic cop. “If you tell me what you two are up to I’ll tell you a secret that could help,” Sergei said.
“We need to steal Mjölnir from the vampires,” I said.
Sergei wobbled and grabbed the edge of the table. “The vampires have the hammer? The real hammer of Thor?”
“They got to it before we could,” Rebel said.
“Oh dear. That’s bad news,” he said. His unblinking eyes glanced off. He shook his head and pointed a long, bony finger at me. “You must get Mjölnir.”
“Yeah, we know,” Rebel said.
“Go to Dimmuborgir.”
“What’s there?”
“Dimmuborgir is rumored to be the gate to Hel,” Sergei said. “It’s just a myth but that’s exactly what you’re dealing with, so…”
“What do we do when we get there?”
“Go to Hel?” he said.
“Yeah, I know, but is there a ritual or a spell?” Rebel asked.
“How would I know? I file phalli.”
“File Phalli,” I said. “That’s a great band name.”
Chapter 34
Hel’s gate was smaller than I thought it would be.
A stone arch in the middle of a desolate landscape dotted with volcanic boulders waited for us. We’d arrived a few hours after the peak visiting times so we had the run of the place. Good. I didn’t want anyone to witness the fact that this tourist trap with the name Hel’s Gates was actually a gate to Hel. Humanity was in enough trouble without knowing how to visit the underworld.
“I’ve never been here,” Coleslaw said. “Hilde wouldn’t let me visit it. She said it was too dangerous for my kind.”
“What’s that mean?” Rebel asked.
“No idea,” he said. “I learned a long time ago to not bother asking. Hilde was a discreet woman. She lived by a code of honor that I’ll never see the likes of again.” He was falling into a funk.
“Come on,” I said, trying to distract him. “Let’s check it out. We’ll cover you.” I winked at him. He just walked off, which made me feel like a moron for winking.
“Did you just wink at him?” Rebel whispered.
“I was trying to help,” I whispered back.
“Winking. No.”
“Got it.” We followed him to the gates of Hel to find a way into the one place most of us spend a lifetime avoiding. We stood at the entrance. It wasn’t a cave really. More of an arch. It was only a few feet thick, with a seven foot high ceiling. You could walk through the thing and come out the other side in four steps.
The cold wind blew through it, whistling as if waiting for us to make a move.
“I guess we walk in?” Rebel asked, taking a step.
“Wait,” I said. “I’ll go first.”
I stepped in slowly. I stopped and searched for a symbol or a rock that was out of place, anything that could be a clue.
“Coleslaw, any ideas?” He walked in and stood next to me. He looked around for a moment, then at me and then shrugged. “Thanks, really helpful.”
“Let me see,” Rebel said. She pushed her way into the tight quarters and ran a hand over the walls. Then the floor. Then the ceiling on her tiptoes. Then she just stood there like the rest of us.
She closed her eyes. She was trying a spell. She opened them, noticed nothing had happened and closed them again. This went on a few more times and then Rose and Cassidy appeared at the entrance.
“Don’t bother,” Rose said. “There’s no way in.”
“Rose! Cassidy!” Rebel yelled. I managed to frown at them even though I was relieved to see they were okay. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“Here,” Cassidy said. “This is Hel’s Gate. It actually goes to Hel.”
“Yeah, we know,” I said. They looked tired. No, that’s not right. Not tired. Worn. Beat. “But what are you doing here?”
“I tracked the hammer here,” Rose said.
“What’s that mean?” I asked. “How did you track it?”
“I smelled it,” she said. “No, that’s not right. I smell it. Right now.” She sniffed the air and her pupils went red for a second. Then she looked at me and they went back to normal.
“She’s been really creepy,” Cassidy said.
“Don’t make me tell them about you, brother.”
“Shut up.”
“Okay, let’s just say you smell something and you tracked it here.”
“Which just so happens to be where the clues led us,” Rebel broke in. I knew that expression on her face. She already believed Rose and Cassidy. Her gut told her that they were onto something.
“Thanks for the help there, Rebel,” I said. “So let’s say you smelled something and tracked it here. How do you know what the hammer smells like?”
“Skyler,” Rose said.
“Can you elaborate?” I asked.
“He gave me the scent. I followed it.”
That fucker. He’d lied to me.
“He had a piece of cloth,” Cassidy clarified. “He said to follow the smell and she’d find the hammer.”
“But the scent ends here,” Rose said, softly. “We’ve tried everything but we can’t find a way into Hel.”
“Some people would love to be stuck with that problem,” I said.
“Except Viking Hel,” Rebel said. “I want to end up in Viking Hel. Come on. Let’s look around a little.”
The twins and Coleslaw walked off. I stopped Rebel with a look.
“Why do you look like you haven’t gone to the bathroom in a month?” she asked.
“Skyler,” I said.
“Don’t start with that, please, Kane.”
“He’s out,” I said. “I’m done with the games. He’s pulling the twins into this now.”
“The twins are pulling the twins into this. They’re a part of the team. They know the risks. You have to stop finding excuses to get angry at the old man.”
“He’s out, Rebel.”
“Fine, do what you want. You’re the boss. See how far we get without his help.”
She walked off. My noble fury felt a little less noble and a little less furious. Maybe she was right. Maybe I needed to let them make their mistakes. Even if it killed them. Even if it meant the end of the world.
Chapter 35
I watched the others move around the tiny cave.
They looked ridiculous, packed into a small space, searching for an Open Sesame button. I decided that the next best move was to climb on top of some of the nearby boulders, get away from them and get a better view.
I took in a deep breath as I reached the top of a perch that overlooked the vast horizon. Iceland has a lot of horizon. Endless horizon. When you combined that with the eternal days in one season and eternal nights in another season you had the perfect recipe for fucking batshit madness. I wondered how the good people of the island kept it together. Probably ancient Viking magic. Or a deep desire to be left alone. I could understand that.
Suddenly, I felt uneasy. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first. I checked my zipper. It was up. I looked behind me. Nothing there.
Then it hit me.
It was quiet.
That wasn’t possible. Rose and Cassid
y were nearby after all.
I climbed down the boulder as fast as I could and ran to Hel’s Gate around the bend.
Empty. No one was there.
“Rebel!” I yelled. Wind answered. “Rose!” Nothing.
I almost ran into Hel’s Gate but thought better of it at the last second. I needed to check the footprints. Maybe they would give me a clue. But the dirt didn’t give up its secrets. There was a lot of activity as they moved around each other in their search for a clue. But the pattern didn’t tell me anything. No signs of a trap door, or a fake wall. No hidden steps. No buttons or dials or switches.
“Dammit!” I yelled.
“Dammit!” I heard back. Then again and again, until the echo faded away.
An echo?
I walked out from under the arch and yelled “Dammit!” again.
No echo.
I walked back in and yelled a third time.
My scream echoed back to me.
But from where?
“You need to be dead to go to Hel,” Fox said from behind me. It didn’t even surprise me anymore. I just closed my eyes and tried not to pop him one. I really felt like decking a vampire at that moment. Any vampire would do.
Then it hit me. What he was saying was not good news.
“So you’re saying my whole team died and got dropped into Hel?”
“No, it just takes one death. This was a place where gods who were locked out of the afterlife came to sacrifice humans for entry. My presence was all the door needed to open under their feet.”
“I thought you were undead.”
He shrugged.
“Shit,” I said. “We need to get down there.”
“Not yet,” he said. “I sent them down without you because we need to talk. Please, Kane. Sit.”
“Fox, now is not the time for a heart-to-heart. They might need me down there.”
“It is the only time we have. When we get there my hands will be tied in a lot of ways. And you need to know something.”
“Make it fast,” I said. I sat on a rock.
“I can feel,” he said.
“Really?” I broke in, standing up. “This can wait.”
“No, it can’t. I can feel and I do. I have feelings for Rebel.”
