Blaidd
Twenty-seven years old
She was pale and worn, even with the makeup they’d applied. I trailed my knuckles down her cold cheek. My mother could rest now and fret no more.
In the end, I’d made her proud.
She believed the lies. Her love for me clouded her judgment, and if I had a heart, I might have loved her for it.
I leaned down and kissed her forehead—the same way she used to kiss mine when I was a child.
She didn’t smell the same, even with her usual perfume.
And I knew the scent of dead bodies well.
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He came.
Interesting.
He’d have read about my success. He’d have seen how well my mother lived until the end. Now he stood before me in a black suit too small for his bulging beer belly. My father. The drunk.
His wife fidgeted as the casket was lowered. I glanced down at the polished, adorned coffin as it descended into the ground.
No more hugs.
No more declarations of love.
My mum was rare. She had loyalty like no other.
She served her purpose, the voice reminded me.
My jaw clenched. Didn’t he think I knew that?
The priest droned on about a woman he never truly knew, but this had been her wish. Instead, I watched my father, smiling until he tugged at his black tie. Inviting him had been for my amusement. His wife was a bonus.
She clutched his arm while I catalogued the fear.
We both knew what I was. He just didn’t know what I was truly capable of. The people who did never lived to tell another soul.
This funeral was everything I’d anticipated—and more.
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I reached for the bottle of scotch as the tyres crunched over the gravel, carrying us away from the graveyard.
“Did you make my arrangements for tonight?” I asked, pouring a drink.
“Yes, sir. Everything is as you instructed.”
I didn’t need to look at him. My lackeys were there as security guards not because I required protection, but because it was convenient to have minions close—ready to obey.
The car reached the gates as I took a long sip.
Fucking was as contained and functional as the rest of my life.
Tonight I didn’t need comfort—only a warm body to use.
They came and went, never staying more than an hour or two.
Their instructions were simple. Their payment was compensation, dependent on how much damage occurred. Yet they always came back for more.
I swirled the amber liquid around the glass.
I could blame the animal inside me, but I’d be lying. People were beneath me. They always had been.
But money was power, and eventually, everyone danced to my tune.
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The house was quiet. This was the reason why I’d purchased an estate outside of London. I’d soundproofed it and triple-glazed the windows. After the funeral, I returned to my office. For once, the noise had been the distraction that I craved.
I dropped my keys in the wooden bowl and went upstairs. I didn't pause to inspect the naked woman who faced the window, kneeling on her hands and knees. She wasn't going anywhere.
I set my bag on the couch and went into my dressing room, unravelling my tie to fold it up and set it in the empty velvet square that I’d pulled it from this morning. I did the same with the Rolex.
My shirt, trousers and underwear went into the laundry basket, and my suit jacket was placed on its hanger. I shook open the soft sweatpants before slipping them on.
I sniffed the air.
Past the woman’s scent, I could tell the cook was baking dessert for dinner. I had around an hour to play with before dinner was ready.
By the time I returned to the bedroom, I could smell the whore’s enthusiasm.
It wouldn't be a pleasant hour for her.
But this is what I needed tonight.
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After a shower and dinner, I took a stroll through the back garden, ignoring the voice as I lit a cigarette—a bone of contention with my subconscious.
I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with thick smoke before exhaling into the night. I watched it dissipate into the darkness.
This was life here one day and gone the next.
Not us.
It is time for the truth, Blaidd, the voice said, no longer a whisper.
What do you mean? I asked, lifting the cigarette for another drag.
Something rippled inside me.
No—not rippled. Shifted.
It was part of me.
My name is Fenrir, son of Loki, destroyer of gods.
The cigarette slipped from my fingers.
Our mother is gone. We only have each other.
I tilted my head, closing my eyes.
My monster.
Yes. I am here. I always have been—from the very beginning.
My body grew heavier as my skin stretched. I surrendered to the sensation, recognising it as something I had been waiting for my entire life. This was why I never fit anywhere. I didn’t fight it.
My hands curled, sharp claws pricking my palms.
I smiled.
By the time the motion completed, the transformation had settled into place.
My eyes snapped open.
Oh. I liked this.
I padded forward, glancing down at my massive paws. Though the night was pitch black, I could see everything as clearly as day. The foliage. The earth. The different trees, each distinct.
I inhaled again and caught the faint trace of the woman still clinging to me, even after the shower.
I stepped onto the grass, feeling every blade beneath me. It was as though my feet were touching the ground for the first time.
Then I felt him—Loki’s son. A myth I had once dismissed as ancient stories embellished by drunken warriors.
Fenrir.
He wanted to run. To be free.
He had never known freedom.
We can rule them, he said. Own every one of their pathetic lives.
I already own them.
This wasn’t a partnership or a hostile takeover. It was two pieces finally snapping together.
Our size expanded as we vaulted effortlessly over the stone wall. When we landed in the woods beyond, the earth trembled beneath us.
You will never need anyone, he growled, leaping through the trees.
Yes. He’d always been there. Even as a child, I never felt lonely. His whispers filled the void.
I relaxed and let him take control of our form. One could not exist without the other. It didn’t matter whose monster was greater.
All that mattered was that we were both monsters.