Chapter 26
Remi
I whispered flame for gods whose days are long,
And fed them whiskey so they’d keep my spirit strong.
I couldn’t say for sure when I’d gotten attached to the little shit. It could’ve been when she drew me that picture; I had to respect the shade she threw at me right from the start. Or it might have been the first time I helped her with math.
It didn’t really matter when. The fact remained that I’d definitely become attached, so as I watched her moodily drag her suitcase out of her room, I felt part of my soul dying.
I was all for spending time with Amir in ways that we couldn’t with a kid hanging around—maybe right here on this kitchen island or on the balcony at sunset—but those things weren’t all that important.
Despite our pool table rendezvous and some impromptu locker room handiwork, I didn’t actually care all that much about the physical.
Emotional connection was the shit I got high on.
Like with Mal. I hadn’t been around kids much, except when I was one.
She and her dad weren’t a package deal when this whole thing started because her involvement wasn’t on the table.
Now that the three of us had spent a week and a half together, I was loath to admit what had actually sprouted here.
In fact, it was best if I forgot it entirely since Mal was going home this morning.
When the front door opened, I barely glanced at Amir and Avery. They’d been talking for the past ten minutes, and from the looks on their faces, it hadn’t gone as well as last time. She smiled at me, so I forced one in return.
“Are you ready?” she asked Mal.
All she did was lift a shoulder. With that serious look on her face, she was strikingly similar to her dad. I could imagine him with an attitude like that when he was her age, probably giving his parents hell but in more subtle ways than I used to act out.
Amir held his hand out, waiting for Mal to come to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and a warm feeling spread in my gut. Her head came to his navel, which made me wonder if she would be tall. Would I get the chance to find out?
Looking away from them, I watched the sun reflect off the building across from us.
“I’ll see you soon,” Amir said to her.
“Promise?”
“Of course. When I’m home, you’re with me. Same as always.”
“And Remi?”
At the sound of my name, I glanced at them. Amir met my eyes, and I thought there might be a question in them. Turning back to Mal, he tucked her hair behind her ears.
“Let’s talk about it later, alright?”
Her lips turned down, but she nodded. I watched as she hoisted her backpack higher. She tugged on the fasteners, clearly frustrated.
Without waiting for an invitation, I walked over to her. I crouched and looked at her for a moment before I reached out. When she didn’t protest, I worked on tightening the straps.
“Don’t like when it bounces?” I asked.
“No.”
“Good thing it’s an easy fix.” After I’d adjusted both sides, I straightened the backpack and looked her up and down. “Right as rain.”
Her nose wrinkled. “What’s that?”
“Right as rain is what Thor calls it when the weather behaves. You know, no lightning strikes your house and everyone gets to go about their day as usual.”
“Sounds like an old man thing.”
“Probably. I am pretty old.”
“Yeah.”
Breathing a laugh, I tapped her nose. It struck something in me when she didn’t recoil from it.
“You have a good flight, okay, Little Valkyrie?”
Her pinky traced her lip absently, and her eyes were distant. After a second, her gaze moved to my face and settled on my cheek. “Say you’ll see me soon.”
I opened my mouth, then glanced at Amir. His arms were crossed over his chest, but I couldn’t tell what he felt.
“I hope I’ll see you soon,” I replied. “If the Norns don’t tangle my thread, I might just get lucky.” When her brow furrowed, I leaned closer. “You can read all about them in the Voluspá. Maybe we can talk about it next time I see you.”
With a wink, I stood to my full height. I sucked in a breath when her arms came around me.
Her face pressed against my stomach, and I tentatively returned the hug.
My eyes found Avery’s, which were wide, and I saw her glance at Amir, but I didn’t know what passed between them, nor did I particularly care.
When Mal pulled back, she tucked her fingers under the straps of her backpack and turned to walk toward the door without a word.
Avery stepped closer to me, but my chest was too tight to stick around.
With a muttered excuse, I headed for the bedroom.
Going directly to my bag, I pulled out a box of matches and a wooden Ansuz rune.
My thumb traced along its rough edge, and I caught the faint scent of leftover smoke.
Amir appeared in the doorway, but I ignored him as I returned to the kitchen, which was now disgustingly empty. From the cabinet next to the stove, I took out a bottle of whiskey Amir sampled once in a while, then set a rocks glass on the counter.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
I poured the whiskey a quarter-way up the glass, then drank half, the taste pricking the back of my throat.
“Odin, One-Eyed Wanderer, the one whose road I’ve walked through every kind of hell.” I touched the rune that hung from my neck, and it was warm beneath my fingers. “Freyja Vanadís, who guarded the blood that came before me. Though I have little to give, hear my words.”
After I struck a match, I stared at the wavering flame as it burned down to my fingertips. When the heat licked at my skin, I dropped it into the whiskey. The flame hissed, flaring briefly before it sputtered out, then I dipped two fingers in and flicked the drops onto the rune.
“Take your eyes from me, and use them to watch over her. And if you’ve got anything left for me, make it mercy.”
Amir came up beside me and rested one hand on the counter. “An offering?”
“Fire for the gods, whiskey for their trouble. Although, Odin prefers mead. Still, one should get them listening.”
“Do they answer?”
“Depends what you consider an answer. It’s not like prayer. There’s no groveling or begging, just speaking to them and giving them a reason to listen. If they have a moment to spare, they’ll acknowledge it.”
“I see.” He took another glass from the cabinet, then set it down and filled it halfway. After taking a swig, he reached for the matches.
It was hard not to smile as I handed them over. “Who will you invoke?”
“I have no idea. Do I have to say it out loud?”
“If you want them to hear you, yes.”
“I’m not sure they’ll listen to me anyway. I’m not exactly part of their tribe, so to speak.”
“Our ancestors are part of our connection, of course. Does that mean you have to be connected to the gods by blood for them to listen?” I lifted one shoulder.
“Some people think so, but the twins themselves came from Vanaheim and were once at war with the Aesir. Besides, who am I to question the interests of the gods? For what it’s worth, I think if you’re offering them something with a good heart, they might just listen. ”
“Alright, then to the god who gave his hand for his friends . . .” He glanced at me with a grimace.
“Tyr,” I filled in, trying not to smile.
“Tyr. It’s probably a big ask, but since you’re one for justice, it’d really help me out if you set your sights on a woman named Clara Kessler.” He paused. “Respectfully.” Once he dropped the match in, he clicked his tongue. “I don’t feel anything.”
I breathed a laugh. “It comes from inside you. I’d say you have a poor connection with your own self.”
“Probably.” Turning to face me, he leaned his hip against the counter. “Don’t be so morose about it all.”
“That’s not how I feel.”
“Tell me how you feel.”
While his fingers stroked down my arm, I thought about it.
“When Oli got placed in the same house as me, I felt an instant connection with him. He’s always been incredibly pure.
To this day, I don’t know how he manages it, but the fire inside of him never dies.
That house was a nightmare. The guy was a functional alcoholic and a terrible drunk.
If he wasn’t taking it out on his wife, it was one of the kids. ”
Amir’s jaw worked. “Why would you stay there?”
“Is that a serious question?”
“Didn’t you have a social worker you could tell? I can’t imagine they’d keep you in a place like that.”
My lips curved, less from humor and more from his hopeful naivety. “You leave enough houses, they stop finding you new ones. Nobody wants to take in teenaged boys, so eventually, they drop you in a group home. Trust me; those make the bad houses look good.”
“That’s . . .” He shook his head, and the despondent look on his face was reminiscent of all those who became jaded by such things.
“I did everything I could to keep him safe there. He became this light, and something inside of me said that if I let it go out, that would be it for me. He was the last bit of hope I had, because if he could survive longer than me—his entire freaking life—in those sorts of places, without ever knowing what love or family felt like, and still find reasons to smile, maybe I could too. Then . . .” I swallowed and moved my gaze past him.
“We got separated. I didn’t reach out, but he did.
He never stopped. And until the day he showed up at my apartment in Seattle, sixteen and nearly as lost as I’d been at his age, I tried to forget how much he meant to me. ”
“And the rest is history,” Amir said with a soft smile.
“Basically, yeah.”
“So, is that how you feel? Like something important has been taken from you?”
“I didn’t mean to get attached. I’m sorry.”
His finger covered my lips. “Don’t you dare apologize for caring about my daughter. You made a goddamn offering because of it. That’s sweet in an odd way.”
“I just want her to be safe and happy. I thought divine intervention couldn’t hurt.”
“God, Remi.” Moving his fingers to grip my jaw, he pulled me close and kissed me. “Does anybody know how deeply you care for things? Besides Oli.”
“Odin. Freyja too.”
He snorted. “Well, don’t get too depressed about it. She’ll be around when I’m home. That’s how it works during the season.”
“But Avery doesn’t want that.”
“We’re very good at co-parenting. It’s been more difficult this past month, but when it comes down to it, this is our deal, written and signed into our agreement. She can’t stop me from having Mal. This was technically her week, so that’s the only reason she got to make the decision.”
“I don’t want to cause a rift.”
“You won’t,” he assured me. “We’ll work it out civilly. Trust me.”
I hummed my acknowledgement, not sure I believed him.
“Besides, she’s clearly just as attached to you,” he went on.
“She’s warming up.”
“More than that. You don’t really know her well, but she doesn’t act like that with people.”
“She loves Trav and Roman,” I pointed out.
“But she’s never hugged them.”
It was hard not to feel proud when I thought about it. Growing serious, I stroked my jaw. “Am I allowed to ask something?”
“You’re always allowed.”
“It’s about Mal.” When he gestured for me to continue, I went on cautiously. “Does she have autism?”
His lips rolled inward, then he snagged the lower one with his teeth. After a second, he released it. “She does, yeah. But don’t start treating her like she’s fragile or—”
“I would never. Why would you think that?”
“It’s just that she notices when people don’t treat her like other people, and she hates it more than anything.”
“She experiences the world a little differently; that’s all.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, sounding relieved.
“I didn’t mean to draw attention to it. Honestly, I sort of thought it early on, but especially after what happened with Clara.”
“She loves to be affectionate, but only if she’s expecting it. I like to give her a chance to initiate if she feels like it.”
“Does she do that with anyone else?”
“Only me and Avery.” He ran his finger around the rim of the glass. “Can I drink the rest of this now?”
Knocking his hand away, I gave him a pointed look. “One, that defeats the purpose. Two, it’s seven in the morning.”
“You started it.” When I made a face, he laughed but grabbed me and pulled me closer. His arm snaked around my waist, and his lips pressed to my temple. “Let’s go get breakfast.”
“Why?”
“Because I was supposed to take you out and never got to. It may not be as nice as the dinner I was planning, but . . .” He shrugged.
“I don’t need nice things.”
“What’s your perfect date?”
“Perfect’s a stretch.” My fingers tapped against his ribs absently. “I don’t know. Something simple. A dive bar, good music, bad lighting, decent whiskey, and no awkward silences. Silence is fine,” I added. “But only the contented kind.”
“So . . .” His lips shifted to the side as he considered something. He was probably trying to plan it all out. It would be regimented, with every piece lined up neatly, just like Mal did with her cars.
Letting me go, he walked around me. I angled myself so I could watch him as he opened the fridge. He set the egg tray on the island, then the jug of milk.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
As he grabbed flour from the cabinet, he flashed me a smile. “Making breakfast and eating in.”
“Oh.” Leaning my elbows on the counter, I continued to watch him set out more ingredients. “What are we having?”
“I don’t have a lot to work with here, but I was thinking lavash with some feta, eggs on the side, and obviously coffee.” He slid a cutting board over to me, along with a tomato. “You can handle that, right?”
“Sure.” I quickly washed my hands, then grabbed a knife.
“My parents used to make this all the time. Theirs was definitely more authentic, but that’s okay.”
I rolled my lips as I tried to think of something to say. Turning to face him, I spun the knife casually. “This is a piece of you.”
“You gave me a piece of you.”
“Let’s not talk about it.”
He snorted but seemed content to move on. Even while I sliced the tomato, I couldn’t stop stealing glances at him. At some point, it had to show up—the thing that would cut through this dreamy haze I felt. Somewhere, no matter how deep down, he had a flaw that would make everything snap into focus.
Everybody had a bad side, and one thing I knew was that, without fail, I would bring it out because I was a gift delivered straight from the Island of Misfit Toys.