Chapter Seven
"Where are we going?"
Thor walked through the portal back to Helheim with Elle in tow.
They stepped into the Helheim side of The Raven Weaver, and Thor led Elle through the throng of immortals and Helmarked- those marked by Hel to remain in her realm and serve her.
The immortals glanced at him but turned away.
But the Helmarked stared at Elle, their hungry eyes devouring her every step.
They who could never leave unless commanded to by Hel.
Thor rounded the bar, and Elle pressed closer to him.
He fought the urge to take her hand or put his arm around her.
He told himself it would only be for her safety, but he couldn't lie.
He would be doing it to make himself feel better, and to make sure all the Helmarked knew she wasn't to be messed with.
Not unless they wanted to deal with him.
They made their way to the exterior door, and he opened it. She paused and bit her lip before stepping into the muggy, dim light.
Once outside, Thor again fought the urge to take her hand.
"Are we going to Lady Frigg’s?"
"No," he said. "I was going to take you to one of my favorite places to eat, but I decided there was something more pressing we needed to do."
"More pressing?"
He looked at her angelic face, the soft glow of street lamps catching on the delicate curve of her cheek.
Her expression was a tempest of emotions, a balance between trust and terror.
Her wide eyes glistened, reflecting both the flickering light and the unspoken anxiety that churned within her.
The soft rise and fall of her chest betrayed her rapid breathing, though she tried to steady herself, holding his gaze as if tethering herself to him.
Even in something as unremarkable as a plain black shirt and worn leggings, her effortless beauty was breathtaking in its simplicity.
The shirt clung to her frame, dampened by sweat, outlining the gentle slope of her shoulders and the curve of her waist. Her leggings were speckled with pretzel crumbs and smudges from their hurried escape.
It wasn’t what she wore, but how she wore it.
Raw and real, stripped of pretense, like a masterpiece left unfinished yet more profound for its imperfections.
"Elle, you need to learn to take care of yourself. Both in Midgard and Helheim,” he said. “If you don't, you'll be eaten alive."
Her eyes widened.
"Not literally... well, at least not on Midgard. Down here, anything is possible."
She scanned the area, as if waiting for someone to jump out and attack her. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.
“Are you cold?”
She nodded.
“I’ve been here so long I forget most immortals visiting aren’t used to the cold.” He shrugged out of his leather jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
Thor took her hand and rounded a corner on autopilot. He'd made the trip so many times from the Raven Weaver to his home that he'd done it blind drunk in the past.
They rounded another corner, and he slowed as his shop came into view.
Elle slowed. "A closed business?"
"It’s mine. I fix and build motorcycles. I have an apartment upstairs."
"Oh," she paused for a moment. "What's a motorcycle?"
He looked back at her. She really had been sheltered. "An automatic bike which has a motor on it so you don't have to pedal."
Thor stopped outside the door of his shop.
Elle noticed his sign and smiled. "Mjolnir Motors."
The way she said it surprised Thor. Her pronunciation spot on. He'd never met anyone outside of Asgard who pronounced it correctly. And most of the people there couldn't do it.
He opened the door, flipped on the lights, and they walked onto the shop floor.
A row of vintage motorcycle frames hung along the far wall on iron hooks, their metal bones stripped down to raw steel, each one tagged with a handwritten work order in Thor's blocky script. Below them, a long steel workbench ran the length of the shop, cluttered with socket wrenches, torque gauges, and a half-empty mug of black coffee gone cold hours ago. The air tasted like motor oil and old rubber. Overhead, industrial pendant lamps buzzed against exposed ductwork, their glow bouncing off the polished floor in pale squares. Outside, a steady breeze drummed against the roll-up garage door. A partially rebuilt V-twin engine sat exposed on the center lift, its cylinder heads removed and laid out on a shop rag in precise order- crankcase, pistons, valve springs- each piece gleaming with fresh oil. He gritted his teeth, realizing he’d forgotten to put down a tarp to catch any drips from ruining his floor. He hated not finishing a job.
"You don't lock your door?" Elle asked.
"No reason. No one here would dare come in without permission."
She smiled. "Guess everyone is scared of you."
He wasn't sure what his expression showed, but her smile fell, making him want to punch himself for having upset her.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
What the hell was wrong with him?
"Come on." He took her hand and led her across the floor as he headed for the backroom. She shrugged off his leather coat and handed it to him. He hung it on a wall hook.
"Are these your motorbikes?" She ran her fingers over his favorite bike, making his jeans grow tight as he imagined her fingers running over his skin instead.
He coughed, trying to cool himself down. "Yeah. One is called Tanngrisnir, and the other is Tanngnjóstr."
Her eyebrows drew together for a moment. "Wait. You turned your two beloved goats into motorcycles?"
He folded his arms over his chest. "You sure do know a lot about me."
"Well..."
The flustered expression on her face made Thor smile. Could she be more adorable?
Whoa! Adorable? Since when had he ever called anyone adorable? More than that, since when had he ever liked anything because it was adorable?
"It... It's not hard to find out about a Norse god. The legends are, well, legendary. I mean, how many books, stories, and movies have they made with you in them? A million?"
"So, you learned about me through watching actors pretend to be me for entertainment?"
"I prefer to read. Back... where I’m from, I had a huge library. I read all kinds of things. Like how you would eat your goats when you got hungry."
Thor gritted his teeth. "I ate them one time.
One. And the whole thing got blown way out of proportion.
They made it sound like I did it all the time.
And I will have you know, Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr begged me to eat them.
They said if I starved to death, they didn't want to belong to anyone else.
They begged me to eat them and not die."
"Did they beg you to cause one of them a limp, too?" she chided.
"That was all Loki. Idiot. He convinced a boy to mess with Tanngnjóstr's bones after dinner. I didn't find out until it was too late."
A mischievous smile spread across her face.
"You're messing with me." Man, how did she rile him up? And in more ways than one.
"I'm not sure what that means, but I am jesting with you. But you haven't answered my question. Did you?"
"Did I what?"
"Did you turn Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr into motorcycles?"
Again, her pronunciation correct. He shook his head and walked to the back of the shop floor, opened a door, and motioned her forward. He stepped into his fight room. As soon as he did, a series of loud bleats sounded from the corner.
"Yeah, I hear you, you noisy beasts."
Elle squealed in delight. "You didn't turn them into machines." She ran to the pen where Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr stood on their hind legs begging for food.
Before he warned her, they didn't like people; she was at their pen, grabbing them by the face and kissing them.
Thor stopped mid-step, processing the scene.
Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr didn't like anyone.
After thousands of years, they tolerated him at best. But there they were, hamming it up and licking Elle all over her face like she was the best bale of hay he'd ever given them.
He stared in disbelief for several minutes, listening to her coo and laugh at the goats while they nipped at her shirt and fought each other for her attention.
What in the Helheim is it about that girl?
Thor scooped some pellets from the ancient barrel and dropped them into their trough.
"All right, guys, back up. Give the woman some air." He pushed the goats down, and Tanngrisnir nipped his arm.
"Hey!" Thor pointed at the goat. "I'll eat you again. I will."
The goats backed up and snorted several times, stamping their feet like they might try to ram the gate.
"You wouldn't really eat them, would you?" Elle asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Thor snorted and tossed the scoop back in the barrel. "Probably not. They didn't taste good the first time. They’re a thousand years older now. They’d probably mold instantly upon death."
The goats bleated again and began munching on their pellets.
"Is this why you brought me here? To show me your goats?"
"Nope. I brought you here to teach you some self-defense."
"Self-defense?"
"Yeah. You need to be able to defend yourself against assholes like the guy who grabbed you."
Her eyebrows scrunched together.
"It's a figure of speech. It means... a... uh..." Thor wasn't sure how to describe an asshole without being graphic. "A not nice guy."
She nodded, but a nervous expression crossed her face.
"Don't worry. I won't hurt you. I just want you to be able to protect yourself so you don't find yourself in the same situation again."
She swallowed hard. "All right."
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