Chapter 9
CLARA
The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day, though that did nothing to help with the nerves about my upcoming meeting with a certain goddess.
I wanted to hear what she might have to say about my potion, but I also hadn't been alone in a room with her since our night together, and seeing her at the gallery had only left me with the memories of it playing through my head unlike any other hook-up ever had.
As much as I wanted to just forget, it seemed like I couldn't.
Which was a problem when Hel had made it clear that there was nothing more than one night between us. I had to respect that.
When I'd looked up directions to her mortuary, I'd noticed a park nearby, and had decided to come early so that I knew I'd be on time, but also so that I could eat a sandwich while looking at nature. There really was nothing like it for refreshing the soul.
The leaves drifted in the light breeze, and I spotted a couple of squirrels running about. There was something nice and idyllic about it. If I worked around here, I'd be coming for lunch every day.
I found a bench under one of the trees and took a seat, leaning back and admiring everything around me.
Some bees buzzed along the flowerbed opposite, going about their little buzzing lives.
There were people around too. A woman with a couple of kids racing around her with far more energy than they had the right to, a man on the phone, and a somewhat familiar woman with a small grey puppy bouncing at her heels.
It took me a moment to put together what I was seeing, but as soon as I realised it was Hel, I got to my feet and made my way over.
Maybe it was a bad idea when she'd made it clear that she didn't want anything personal between us, but it felt weird to watch her without letting her know that I was here.
I cleared my throat when I was close enough to get her attention and she looked up in surprise.
"Clara."
"Good afternoon."
"I wasn't expecting you for another half an hour."
A loud shrill bark came from the puppy beside her as he bounced up and down to get at the treat pouch in her hand.
"Oh, shh," she said to him.
"So, the goddess of death has a puppy," I said. It was a surprising revelation, but there was no doubt that's what the tiny creature by her feet was.
"He's a hellhound," she responded.
"A hellhound puppy."
She sighed and scratched the definitely-a-puppy behind his ears.
"He's a hellhound. He respawns every fifteen years or so.
You just happen to be catching him in his puppy-like phase.
Don't let the demanding whines fool you, he's hundreds of years old and will growl if he thinks you're unworthy of his attention. "
"Sounds like his bark is worse than his bite," I joked. "A bit like someone else I know."
She raised an eyebrow. "I can bite."
My lips quirked up into a smile. "I remember."
"Having dated a vampire or two, I can assure you that biting can be part of the fun."
I raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't date?"
"I don't anymore, but there was a foolish period in my youth when I tried it." She set the puppy down on the ground and wrapped the lead around her hand. "If you want to walk with me, then it wouldn't be objectionable."
"That almost sounds like a compliment," I responded.
"You're pleasant company and I assume you're in the area because of our appointment anyway."
"I am. I thought I'd come eat lunch in the park. I didn't expect you to be walking your puppy. I didn't even know you had one."
"I guess I know you didn't snoop around my house then," Hel responded. "You'd have found several indications there."
"Where was he the other night?"
"At the dog sitter's," she said. "I don't leave him home alone for that long, especially when he's in his puppy phase. He'd destroy everything."
"Sounds like separation anxiety."
She shrugged. "It's somewhat unavoidable after hundreds of years in one another's company," she said.
"He's all I need, aren't you, Garmr?" The way she looked at the puppy made me melt a little inside.
There was so much affection in her smile that it was hard to reconcile it with the goddess who insisted she wasn't looking for love.
"So, why don't you date?" I asked curiously.
"Oh, no. We don't do personal questions," Hel responded.
"You were the one who started it by talking about Garmr," I pointed out as we fell into step beside one another with her puppy bouncing along beside her.
She sighed. "Fine. You can ask five questions."
"Hmmm, now I'm going to have to think of good ones," I mused. "I guess my question about why you don't date is a good one to start."
"Because what's the point?" she responded. "Life is finite, then you die. Unless you're immortal, and in that case, everyone around you dies."
"That's bleak."
"That's reality." A small smile lifted her lips as she looked down at her puppy, who was taking the chance to pee. "Good boy, Garmr. Good boy."
I watched curiously as her entire demeanour softened and she pulled out a treat for the tiny dog.
"I think a lot of people would say that love is worth it because life is finite," I said.
Hel shrugged. "Most people are idiots."
"Do you really not want to find love?" I asked.
"Is that one of your questions?" she responded.
"No."
"Then I don't think I'll answer."
"Fine by me. How did you become a goddess of death?" I asked.
She looked at me sideways. "That's what you're going for?"
"You said I could ask five questions," I pointed out. "So this is number two."
"There's not much to tell on that front," she said as she watched her puppy. For a moment, I thought that was all she was going to say on the matter, but then she let out a loud sigh. "I used to like to show off my magic, so the humans associated me with death."
"You must have found that hard."
She shrugged. "Why would it be hard? I'm a necromancer. Death is my thing. You have two questions left."
"Three," I countered. "That was a statement, not a question."
She let out a sigh. "Fine. You have three questions left."
"I could go for the obvious and ask who hurt you..."
"Nobody hurt me," she said. "I got hurt by the passage of time. I'm sure you've lost people in your life, you know how hard it is."
"My dad," I responded. "About ten years ago. It left a hole in my heart, no one should lose one of their parents while still in their twenties."
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I know that can't have been easy."
"I survived."
She let out a sigh. "Well, imagine that pain and multiply it by seven hundred years. That's family, friends, lovers. At some point it was easier not to make the connections in the first place rather than wait for the inevitable grief."
"It sounds lonely."
"It's not. I have some of my family left. I spent time with my uncle and brother. Not so much my father, but that's because Loki is off doing whatever it is that Loki does."
"Loki," I echoed. "You know, I'd not made the connection. I knew Loki was Thor's brother, but I figured you might be his niece through an unknown sister or something."
"It's not really important." She watched as her puppy ran over to a tree stump and sniffed it before peeing. "Good boy."
He gave a happy yap and came running over to her, tail wagging and an adorable look on his fluffy face.
"Yes, you did a good pee," she said as she crouched down and pulled a piece of chicken out of her treat pouch. "I can't believe I have to teach you all of this again, but you're still a good boy."
"He doesn't retain any of his memories?" I asked curiously.
"I don't know," she admitted. "He's never scared of me, so I assume he retains something because he knows who I am. But I have to teach him all of the basics all over again every time he becomes a puppy. Now you have one question left. And I'm being generous with that."
"That might make asking you about death stuff difficult," I said, not arguing with her about the number of questions, even if I thought her calculations were incorrect.
"That's different. I said I'd talk to you about your potion stuff if you made an appointment, and that's what I intend to do."
"You have no idea how much I appreciate that."
She shrugged. "I imagined it was important, or you wouldn't have made the appointment in the first place. Most people wouldn't want to sit across from someone they slept with who had told them nothing else would happen."
"Speaking from experience?"
"Is that your final question?"
"No."
"Then I won't be answering." She turned her attention back to the puppy, and I assumed that meant this part of the conversation was over.
I watched the woman beside me as she interacted with her puppy and tried to work out who she was.
I could understand the boundaries she'd put down, but they didn't all seem to make sense.
I could understand not wanting to get hurt, but if she really didn't want to get close to people, then she wouldn't need all the rules.
And she certainly wouldn't be willing to answer my questions or do a favour for Daisy by actually talking to me. But I knew better than to push.
It did mean that I was going to make my final personal question to her a good one.