Chapter 5
Chapter Five
“Wait, I’m responsible for stopping the end of the world…I mean, um, Fraggle Rock?
“Ragnarok,” both MC and Harvey corrected with a chuckle.
“But all’s quiet for the moment. Plenty of time for you to learn how to wield your new power in peace,” MC comforted.
Well, wasn’t that a relief?
Somehow, Marty and Wanda had managed to calm her down enough on the car ride over to coax her into Nina’s living room, or whatever you call a space this enormous in a castle.
Her main concern had been getting to Fletcher.
Somewhere deep inside her, she knew Nina wouldn’t hurt Fletcher, and her crow was an amazing judge of character.
He’d never have warmed to her the way he did if she wasn’t a good person—even if she did steal him as a way to blackmail her into coming to her castle.
They’d lit a roaring fire in the enormous fireplace, and settled Fletcher and Nina’s wheelchair-bound dog, Waffles, next to her on the big puffy couch.
After introducing her to a blue man who went by Archibald, and another man—not blue, but certainly as British—named Tottington, and yet another person in another one of the colors of the rainbow, Carl, they fed her dinner and brought her warm cookies and freshly roasted coffee.
Despite their paranormal nature, they all appeared to function like a typical family. They laughed. They joked. They disagreed, but she felt their unity. Their solidarity. They knew one another well. They knew each other’s foibles, faults, what made the other happy, what made them angry or sad.
And she’d learned that after only a single, anxiety-riddled ride in Marty’s big SUV and a meal she’d done almost nothing more than observe, due to the knots in her stomach. Though, to the blue man’s credit, the meal smelled like heaven.
Speaking of knots, it would take a sailor to untie the ones settled deep in her belly. She was so confused by the rush of information she was trying to absorb.
Sliding to the edge of her seat, Dom shared her confusion. “Why do you guys have two names for everything? Midgard is Earth. Fraggle… Ragnarok means kaput for the world. Asgard is—”
“Simply Asgard, which is where our people, now yours, too, live,” MC responded.
Dom pushed her hair from her face. “And you’re not a Viking? How is it that all this time I thought Thor was a Viking?”
Harvey smiled gently, devastatingly handsome.
“It’s a common misconception these days.
We’re Norse. Thor is a Norse god. Period.
Though, the Vikings consider us honorary members of their community.
We’re more of an ideal. Their reverence stems from the role we played in shaping and influencing Viking culture. ”
“So no cute Viking hat?” The disappointment in Dom’s voice was real. Because even if she didn’t want to protect and rule all the “gards” or whatever they were called, she wouldn’t mind a cool Viking hat.
It was the least they could offer for her trouble, right? After all, she was responsible for keeping the world safe. Shouldn’t she have a fun outfit as a reward?
Harvey barked a laugh, deep and hearty. “I’m afraid not. Though, I have it on good authority the horned helmets you’re thinking of only existed in operas, to depict their romanticization of the Viking people. They don’t really exist.”
Dom frowned, stroking Waffles’s soft fur as he snuggled closer to her thigh. “Boo-hiss. How can a girl rule over a whole planet without something cute to wear?”
Marty laughed out loud, clapping her hands against her thighs. “You’re my kinda girl, Dom. I love a cute outfit, especially if it involves playing a part.”
She’d forgotten all about Marty being the owner of Bobbie-Sue Cosmetics, and under normal circumstances—the kind that didn’t involve her ruling the world—they might have a lot in common.
Nina snorted. “Leave it to a chick to want to accessorize her fucking paranormal experience.”
“So let me keep this all straight in my mind,” Wanda said, interrupting the lightest moment she’d had since they met. “The gods have chosen Dom to be their ruler, she’s the only person who can pick up MC, and all because she’s pure of heart?”
“That’s it in a nutshell,” MC replied. “She meets all of the qualifications to rule.”
Suddenly, the joke about the song “Can’t Touch This” all made complete sense.
“What an amazing testament that is to your life,” Marty whispered, reaching over to pat Dom on the thigh.
“But it’s not at all true!” she exclaimed.
“I mean, I’ve done things that aren’t exactly pure of heart.
Like…like once, I stole a candy bar from the bodega down the block when I was ten.
Or the time I wished Latonya Pritchard would trip onstage during her performance after she stole my part in my third-grade play, because her mom was our teacher’s best friend.
” She threw up a finger. “And that’s only the half of it.
I once cursed at a guy who cut me off on the Verrazzano.
I punched Sal Campano in the nose when he pulled my friend Tisha’s hair in eighth-grade, and—”
“You returned the candy bar, unopened, due to your intense guilt. Guilt so overwhelming, you didn’t sleep that night.
Latonya didn’t trip onstage no matter how much you wished it so, because you took it back when you said a prayer just before she went onstage to play the role you deserved.
The man on the Verrazzano, who was filled with road rage and almost ran you off the side of the bridge, could have killed both you and your grandfather.
And finally, Sal Campano? He’s in federal prison now, serving fifty to life for attempted homicide after nearly killing his wife, while his children watched in horror.
Frankly, I wish you’d punched him harder,” MC said.
Sal Campano was serving possible life in prison for attempted homicide? That took his penchant for hair-pulling to a whole other level.
That aside, how did MC know all of that? How could he possibly know she’d been afraid her third-grade wish would come true and, even though Latonya was mean, she didn’t want her to get hurt just because she got the part of Cindy Lou Who, and Dom had been relegated to Whoville resident number four?
MC cleared his throat. “I see your surprise, Dominique, and I acknowledge how exposed you feel right now due to my deep dive into your innermost thoughts and perceived misdeeds, but when I say I vetted you, know that I always mean what I say.”
Her chest felt tighter than the corset she’d worn on Halloween last year, when the Remember Me staff had a party and she’d dressed as Marie Antoinette.
Tugging at her scarf, she pulled it off and set it near Fletcher, who immediately set about making a nest from the silky material. Her cheeks went hot and her breathing became erratic.
“I think…I think I need a minute. Maybe some fresh air, if you don’t mind?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, Dom jumped off the couch, her eyes flying to search for an exit.
Carl held out his pale green hand to her in a silent invitation, a soft smile on his boyish face. “Come…with…wi…th me.”
His words were stilted and slow, but his eyes held a sincerity Dom couldn’t deny.
“It’s okay,” Wanda whispered softly, her affection for Carl clear in her expression. “Go with him. Carl will take good care of you.”
When she placed her hand in Carl’s, the instant their skin touched, Dom almost gasped. It wasn’t only the immediate connection she felt to him, the safe vibe he gave off, but it was as though she’d jumped into his soul—a soul that was unpolluted by malice or discrimination.
He radiated love and joy, and those emotions transferred to her, threading through her veins, whispering over her heart, bathing her in his genuine light.
Without hesitation, with zero fear, Dom let him lead her through to the kitchen, where he pulled open some French doors that led to a cobblestone patio, where there were chairs sitting around a circular fire pit.
The cool air splashed her face, easing the sting of red blazing across her cheeks. Sitting in one of the striped cushioned chairs, Dom leaned forward and breathed deep, trying to slow her thrashing heart.
Leaves in orange, yellow and brown littered the patio, skittering across the pavers, scratching against them as the cool breeze made them dance.
Edison lights surrounded the area, glowing cheerfully, highlighting the endless terra cotta pots of mums in various colors. It was a warm and inviting space, even if it was chilly out.
Carl placed his palm on her back before he sat on his haunches in front of her. “Scared?”
She lifted her eyes to meet his warm brown ones, swimming with compassion, unsure why she felt comfortable answering. “Petrified.”
And she was.
“Too much…too…too soon?” he whispered, patting her hand.
“Yes. That’s exactly it, Carl. Too much, too soon. It all happened so fast, and I have no choice but to either think I’m in some crazy nightmare or this is real. Talking hammers and werewolves and vampires are really real.”
Dom heard the wonder in her voice, felt the tremor in her throat as her heart skipped a few more beats.
Carl’s smile of sympathy was tender and filled with understanding. “Demon… Demons, too…”
Her response was to jolt in her chair and scan the landscape of Nina’s huge backyard. “Demons are real, too?” But seriously, why not? If a hammer could talk, why couldn’t a demon exist?
But he reassured her with another pat to her hand and a gentle smile. “S’okay. Good demons.”
Still, she had to ask. “There are good demons?”
“There are!” a booming voice from the darkness assured.
When the owner of the voice stepped into the light—an oversized teddy bear in jeans, high tops, a sports team jersey and a knit cap—Dom cringed a little.
“I’m Darnell. Good demon.” He held out a beefy hand, which she reluctantly took, letting him envelope her fingers.