Chapter Six
The cobblestone street outside the Raven Weaver glistened with a fresh coat of rain, puddles collecting in the worn grooves between stones where centuries of foot traffic had smoothed them down.
A damp chill clung to Thor's leather jacket.
The kind of cold that made his knuckles ache where they'd been split and scarred over too many lifetimes to count.
He straightened, rolling the tension out of his neck.
Overhead, Helheim's eternal twilight pressed down, no stars, no moon, just a bruised violet sky that never quite committed to full darkness.
Ethereal lanterns lined the street, buzzing with pale-amber energy, their glow catching the mist and turning the air into something gauzy and half-real. Down the block, the low thrum of a bass line leaked out of Valhalla’s Throne, and a pair of Helmarked argued in rapid-fire.
The Raven Weaver's wooden sign swung on iron hooks above the door, its carved ravens depicted in deep indigo and black, the paint fresh enough that Thor smelled linseed oil.
Thor took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the Raven Weaver.
The air hit him with a heady wave of memory-laden fragrance, like standing in the grand halls of Asgard once more.
It was uncanny how Frigg had perfectly captured it: the charred essence of crackling hearth fires fusing seamlessly with the rich, earthy pull of ale, while soft undertones of sweet vanilla wrapped around him like an old lullaby.
The pub's interior opened before him in tones of aged oak and deep forest green, every surface carrying the patina of deliberate care.
Wrought-iron sconces shaped like twisting branches lined the walls, their flickering flames, real fire, not electric imitations, throwing copper-gold shapes across the vaulted ceiling where thick wooden beams crossed overhead like the ribs of an ancient longship.
The bar itself stretched along the far wall, a massive slab of dark walnut polished to a mirror sheen, and behind it, rows of bottles caught the firelight in shades of amber, garnet, and deep honey.
Thor's boots were heavy on the worn floorboards as he stepped inside, the door swinging shut behind him, muffling Helheim's ambient hum.
The air tasted faintly metallic, reminding him of mornings after battles hard-won.
The good times with his brothers and friends.
The bad when he'd lost people he cared about.
And the worst- when Surtr had destroyed it all.
He gritted his teeth and pushed the feelings aside.
Tonight wasn't the night for such memories.
Tonight, he had one goal in mind- find out who Elle was and why she affected him the way she did.
Each step further stirred something raw inside Thor; emotions tangled with visions unknown, felt only by those who dare traverse such mystical paths between realms and stories, mingled with destiny.
Thor walked past the rustic oak tables and chairs where various patrons drank, ate, and laughed. One by one, the patrons eyed him with wary suspicion.
When Odin suggested the move from Valhalla, Thor hadn't been sure, but honestly, he'd been more comfortable living with his demons than he ever had with the angels and fanfare in Valhalla.
In Helheim, he'd found the one thing he'd always wanted- peace. And when things got too quiet, he went to Odin’s fight club and took out his frustrations, usually on his dad or brothers.
But occasionally, there was some other dumb soul wanting to challenge the Mighty Thor- always to their detriment.
"Thor?"
He turned before he got to the portal to Midgard.
Frigg glided toward him, her long green gown reminding him once more of the trees of Valhalla.
"Elle isn't quite done with her shift."
Thor checked his watch. Five forty-five.
"I thought she got off at five."
"She was supposed to. But Pixie didn't show up, and there's a huge crowd up there. A Midgardian football team won that yearly Super Dish thing. So the crowd is thick tonight."
"I'll wait."
"I'd be happy to pour you a drink."
"I'll wait upstairs."
Frigg looked like she wanted to say something, instead she smiled and put her hand on his arm. "Try not to start any trouble, please. The humans are worked up and celebrating. I don’t want to lose business."
"Trouble? Me?"
She chuckled. "Remember how rowdy you and the warriors three would be when you won a battle. This is the same kind of thing to the mortals. So be patient... or as patient as possible. I recently had the wooden floors redone up there, and blood is tough to remove."
Thor sighed. "Yes, Mother."
She kissed his cheek and then turned back to her deep wooden bar.
Her strawberry-blonde hair intricately braided and plaited down her back.
Her willowy limbs worked to pour mugs of ale and set them on the bar for the waitress to deliver.
He had no idea how she didn't tire of serving people all day, every day.
But he supposed serving in the pub was to her what working on motorcycles was to him. A way to pass the time.
Thor turned back to the portal and stepped through.
* * *
Elle glanced at the clock. Five fifty. Thor would arrive any minute, but she couldn't bail on Val and Kirsten.
The mortals were more obnoxious than she'd seen them before.
She'd stopped counting the number of fake compliments thrown her way meant to flatter her into speaking to the various men.
She wondered if all mortals thought stupid lines like- 'Somebody call the cops because it's got to be illegal to look that good!
' And 'Hey girl, are you a beaver? Cause damn!
' And worst of all, 'Is that a mirror in your pocket?
Cause I can see myself in your pants.'- were intelligent ways for a man to attract a woman's attention.
She wasn't sure what the last one meant, but she didn't want to ask either.
Elle dropped off another round of beers to a corner booth full of guys and girls whose faces had been painted blue and white.
One guy wore no shirt but had painted a blue number 42 on his chest. Elle couldn't understand the obsession with adult men playing a silly ball game- especially by people they didn't know.
Over the last weeks, she'd come to understand mortals had many fascinations she didn't understand.
One was football. Another game called soccer, though she thought those names should be switched.
She also didn't understand their fascination with shiny, sleek automobiles and music whose lyrics made no sense.
But the strangest of all was on Wednesday nights when patrons would become quite inebriated and sing badly in front of everyone at the pub.
Why in the world they would embarrass themselves, she had no idea.
She herself sang well but had no desire to do so in front of a crowd.
Elle set her tray on the bar, and Val shoved another tray toward her without looking.
"Table sixteen."
Elle's gut clenched every time Val refused to meet her eye.
Val remained angry about Thor more than about Elle telling her to back off.
Elle knew Val was only mad because she was scared for both of them.
Even so, Elle tired of being treated like a sheltered child.
They had come to Midgard to leave that behind.
If she couldn't build some sort of life for herself, what was the point of leaving their prison?
The only things she'd done since arriving were work at the pub, read in her room, and sleep. Aside from the strange party at Frigg’s, she'd basically done the same things she had back home- minus the abuse.
Elle lifted the tray and walked toward table sixteen.
Thor stepped out from behind the curtain which hid the staircase and portal to Helheim. Her body flushed with heat at the sight of his handsome face, and she turned away.
She set the drinks down on table sixteen to endure another round of stupid comments aimed at her beauty and body.
"Enjoy." She threw a tight smile.
She turned to head back to the bar when a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her onto the lap of one of the rowdy men.
"I'll enjoy it much better if you sit with me while I drink," he said.
Stunned, Elle couldn't move; like when Thadren put his hand on her thigh, and her brain froze. All the lessons with Val, teaching her to fight and trying to harness her gift, and there she sat, unable to think straight, with the exception of her magic, which flared inside her in defense.
"I would enjoy that too," said another guy at the table.
"What about me?" said a third male. "I don't mind being third."
Every fiber of Elle's body went rigid. Val finished pouring a beer and spotted her. Her jaw tightened, and she hopped over the bar in one swift movement, but she was too slow.
A blur of black leather appeared in front of Elle, and before she processed what had happened, she stood behind Thor, and he had the man's face smashed into the table-top, arm wrenched behind him.
"Whoa!" The guy's buddies at the table backed up.
Thor turned to Elle. "Did he ask permission to touch you?"
Elle hugged her tray close to her chest and shook her head. Thor's eyes flashed white with lightning, and he turned back to the whimpering man with his cheek jammed into a plate of fries.
"What gives you the right to touch a woman without her permission?"
"I... I... was only playing."
"Playing?" Thor grabbed the back of the man's head and whipped it up so the man looked at Elle. "Does she look like she thought it was funny?"
Elle's gaze dropped at the sight of fries and ketchup stuck to the side of the man's head.
"N...no," the man stammered.
"Apologize," Thor demanded.
"I'm sorry," the man muttered.
Thor wrenched his arm further behind his back, and the man cried out. "I don't think she heard you."
"I'm sorry," the guy said louder.
"He's sorry," said another guy. "We all are."
Elle lifted her eyes. "Thor, it's okay."
He studied her, conflicted for a moment, and then dropped the guy back on the table before going to her and grasping her arm.
Behind him, her table of drunk troublemakers rushed from the bar, leaving a substantial tip behind.
"It's not okay, Elle,” Thor said. “No one should ever touch you without your permission." He searched her face, making sure she understood.
Her fingers twitched, and her gut twisted as the desire to run surfaced quicker than it had in weeks.
"Even you?" she asked, knowing he'd touched her several times already without asking.
He dropped his hand, making her skin cool. "Even me. I apologize."
She wanted to tell him it was okay, but she didn't think he would like that answer.
"Why don't you put your tray up, and we can go?"
"But I haven't showered or changed clothes."
He nodded. "Plan changed. The new plan works best with what you are wearing."
She inspected her Raven Weaver T-shirt, black leggings, and sneakers. She didn't want to go out with Thor wearing work clothes.
"All right." She turned to the bar as the other patrons eyed her and Thor.
"Elle?" Thor took a step forward.
She turned, and he leaned into her ear. "Hold your head up. Make eye contact with people. It's the only way they will respect you."
Hold her head up? Make eye contact? He sounded like Val. The idea was simple enough, but when it'd been beaten into her for longer than she could remember, that doing those things would earn her a thrashing, she didn't know how to.
She lifted her eyes and swallowed hard as she walked to the bar and set down her tray.
Val still hadn't returned to the other side of the bar. "You good?"
Elle nodded.
Val looked like she might say something more. Instead, she jumped back over in one fluid movement.
Kirsten walked to Elle. "Why don't you take off. You've had a long shift. I’ll be fine until Merda arrives."
"Are you sure?" Elle asked.
"She'll be here in thirty. I can handle these morons. They're not stupid enough to be handsy with me." Kirsten winked at her.
"What makes you different?"
"When I first started working here, my brother made his presence known for the first month on every one of my shifts. He's a Hell's Angel. No one messes with Hell's Angels."
Elle's brows scrunched together. "I thought angels in hel were called Helborn."
Kirsten burst into a laugh. "You're funny. I love you, girl."
Elle wasn't sure what she'd said that was funny.