Fenris & Mott, page 7
“That is definitely Tew,” Thrudi said.
“Abbot-Kinney’s not far from here, so let’s go in the opposite direction.”
She started the motor, and suddenly her bones ached with cold. A man approached, his eyes the color of fresh snow, lashes dusted with frost. He was dressed like Tew, furs and leathers, with a huge sword hanging from a broad belt. His right boot was just a boot, but his left boot was a bulky mass of mismatched leather patches, black and brown and some the color of scabs.
Fenris buried his face in his basket.
“Vidar,” breathed Thrudi.
“Valkyrie,” he whispered, fog curling from the corner of his mouth. “I hear you had a skirmish with Tew and survived. That’s a job well done. You should be proud of yourself.”
“Thank you.”
Since they were being polite to each other, Mott figured she’d better behave the same way. “Your shoe is cool,” she squeaked.
Vidar smiled thinly, an expression that somehow made his face colder. “It took a long time to craft. It’s made from the scraps of a thousand generations of shoemakers. It has to be tough, you see, because I’ll be planting my foot on Fenris’s lower jaw, and then stretching his mouth open and driving my sword down his throat.”
There was no anger in his voice. No emotion at all. He was just reciting some facts.
Thrudi went for her sword.
“Please don’t,” Vidar warned. “I dislike hurting children.”
“Then why not choose to help us?” Thrudi said, desperation in her voice. “Tew wants to use Fenris as a weapon. People are going to get hurt. You could—”
Vidar shook his head. “There’s nothing you or I can do to prevent it. We all have a part to play in the prophecy. There must be war. There must be strife. Fenris must eat the sun and moon. And I must play my part as well, for I am Vidar, son of Odin, and the prophecy says Fenris dies at my hands. It’s really not that complicated. Everyone has a job to do. Will you give me the monster?”
“No,” Mott said. Her voice shook with nerves. “If we all have a role, then protecting Fenris is mine.” She pulled back on the accelerator, and with a squeal of tires, the scooter jolted into motion.
She zigzagged around garbage cans, down an alley, and made a sharp turn onto a side street she didn’t even know the name of. Did the prophecy mention anything about her crashing into a parked car, or a guy crossing the street and not looking for traffic because he was on his phone? All of which nearly happened.
“How fast can gods run?” Mott asked, checking her little round side mirror.
“As fast they need to,” said Thrudi.
Vidar’s mismatched boots made his stride a little awkward, but it didn’t seem to slow him down. He was right behind them.
Mott made a hard left and accelerated when they reached Abbot-Kinney. The scooter’s motor whined as the speedometer meter climbed past thirty miles per hour. Abbot-Kinney was a busy street lined with boutiques and galleries and cafés. Cars slowed down to find parking spaces, buses blocked traffic, and jaywalkers darted into the road. Making things worse, the drizzle had ramped up to a full downpour, and the street was starting to flood, water rising up the curbs. Mott’s toes felt like ice. Water streamed from her hair into her eyes.
Fenris mweeped in the basket, high and sharp.
“Is he okay?” Mott asked.
“Indeed, I believe he is enjoying this. By the way, Vidar is gaining and he has drawn his sword.”
In the mirror, Vidar was close enough that she could see his facial expression. He didn’t look angry. He just looked determined, as if he knew it was only a matter of time before he caught them.
Mott coaxed more speed out of Scooty. With cars clogging traffic and entire lakes of rain-filled potholes, she was shocked she hadn’t crashed yet.
“Thrudi, can you read English?” Mott asked, weaving around cars.
“Yes, we Valkyries are schooled in all the languages of the nine realms.”
“Good. Can you get my phone out of my right pocket?”
“Your magic device? Yes, I think . . . got it.”
“Okay, I need to keep my hands on the handlebars and my eyes on the road, so you’re going to have to do some magic.”
“But I’m not a wizard.”
“It’s okay; I’m going to walk you through this spell.” Mott told Thrudi which buttons and icons to press to bring up NeighborSnoop.
“I’m doing it!” Thrudi said. “I’m doing magic! I’m a wizard, Mott!”
“Is there anything else about Tew? Or anyone with an ax tossing trash dumpsters?”
“I see a dancing cat. It’s talented.”
“What?”
“Oh,” said Thrudi. “I think I pressed the wrong thing. Tell me again how to cast the spell?”
Mott repeated the instructions.
“Let’s see . . . something about a missing turtle. Something about a stolen package. Something about a suspicious brown-skinned person . . .”
Mott rolled her eyes. “Sounds racist. Anything else?”
“Oh, here . . . A man in armor and furs picking up a parked car and tossing it into the road on Oh-lime-pick Boulevard.”
“Olympic? We can be there in a minute.”
“If Tew’s there, then why are we . . . ?”
There was no time to explain. In the mirror, Vidar was closing the distance.
Mott squeezed a little more speed from the scooter.
Up ahead in the intersection, flinging aside a manhole cover and peering down the hole, was Tew. His cheeks were blackened from the pyrotechnic blast at the studio, and his eyes red-rimmed. The effects of the blast only made him look fiercer. He rose to his full height when he saw the scooter bearing down on him and hefted his ax.
Mott twisted Scooty’s right handlebar grip all the way back. The engine whined, and Scooty bravely reached maximum speed.
Tew grinned.
Mott aimed for him.
“Aha! I get it!” Thrudi clapped Mott on the back with excitement. “Tew wants to abduct Fenris to use as a weapon, while Vidar pursues us because he wants to kill Fenris, because he’s so unimaginative he believes the only thing he can do is play his part in the prophecy. So you’re going to weaponize their opposite goals and make them face each other. Brilliant!”
“Aw, thanks!” Mott said, glowing. “And you’re good at explaining things!”
“I appreciate it.”
“We’re probably going to die.”
“Oh, definitely,” Thrudi agreed.
“Hold on!” Mere feet from the reach of Tew’s swinging ax, Mott slammed the brakes and steered right. The tires slid, and Mott had to put her foot to the pavement to keep Scooty upright. Vidar stumbled to avoid running full-tilt into the back of the scooter and ran into Tew.
With the scooter wobbling, Mott turned the throttle all the way and kept going.
The clang of Vidar’s sword against Tew’s ax sent spikes of pain into Mott’s molars.
The road surface shuddered and cracked. Brakes squealed as cars swerved to avoid the battling gods. One car jumped the curb and collided into a fire hydrant, sending up a pillar of water. People on the sidewalk scrambled for their lives.
The gods did battle, and Mott focused on the road ahead, leaving destruction behind. She shivered as the scooter fled through the rain, aimed for the questionable safety of home.
10
HEAVY CLOUDS BOMBED THE EARTH with rain. Mott didn’t know if the booms rocking the sky were thunder or the din of Tew and Vidar fighting. Fenris tried to bite raindrops as if they were bees. Drenched and miserable, Mott steered Scooty home. By the time she and Thrudi arrived, their shoes squelched like sponges, but at least, according to NeighborSnoop, they were miles away from battling gods.
Thrudi hesitated when Mott went through the apartment complex’s front gate. “I will remain outside and stand guard.”
“Don’t be weird. It’s a firehose out here. Come inside with me.”
“You must remember, Mott, I am accustomed to harsh environs. I should tell you about the time I fell down a well full of snakes.”
“There’s water in my pants, Thrudi! Come inside!”
Thrudi considered. “Very well, I suppose I can be on guard for angry gods indoors. But I will remain hidden from your mother, as must Fenris. Perhaps you can roll us up in a rug?”
Mott grabbed Thrudi’s wrist and pulled her through the gate. “We’ll have to hide Fenris in my room, but I’ll tell my mom you’re a friend who needs a place to stay the night. She’ll have a few questions, and she might ask to talk to your parents. But she’ll let you stay. Okay?”
Thrudi didn’t answer, and Mott got the feeling she’d brought up a sensitive topic.
Soon, they were in dry T-shirts and sweatpants, and Thrudi’s furs and leathers were clanking around downstairs in the building’s laundry room.
“I hope your stuff doesn’t get ruined in the dryer,” Mott said, heating up two mugs of cocoa in the microwave.
“I don’t mind wearing your clothes. They allow great freedom of movement.” Thrudi practiced sword lunges until Mott handed her a mug.
“This is amazing!” Thrudi said after a sip. “So warm! And rich! Mott, my sorcerous friend, this beverage is magical!”
“Oh, that’s right, you’ve never had chocolate before.”
“Where I come from the most hallowed warriors drink mead straight from the udder of the goat Heidrún. It’s not as good as your chocolate drink. This is almost as good as root beer.”
Mott smiled, pleased. Thrudi liked Mott’s clothes. She liked hot chocolate. And she really liked root beer. She liked the things Mott liked, and it made Mott feel as though Thrudi might like her, too.
“I wish we could just hang out and do stuff,” said Mott.
“What kind of stuff?”
“I don’t know. Watch Chris Hevans movies. Or you could review root beer with me on my root beer channel. Or you could teach me how to use a sword.”
Thrudi wiped a hot chocolate mustache off her lips. “That sounds like good stuff. Yes, Mott, perhaps one day.”
A happy Fenris thumped his tail on the kitchen floor.
After such a harrowing two days, it was nice to be with a friend and a cute pup and pretend everything was normal and safe, even if just for a few minutes.
The rasp of a key sliding into the front doorknob ruined the illusion.
“Oh! We have to hide Fenris. And come up with a reason why you have a sharp, bladed weapon.”
“Just hide us both,” Thrudi said. “I’ll be fine. Why, this one time I remained concealed in a hollow tree for four days. Which would have been fine had it not been for the bees—”
“Quick, this way.” Mott managed to usher Thrudi and Fenris into her bedroom and shut the door behind them just as her mom’s voice sounded from the living room.
“Mott, I’m home!”
“You’re early,” Mott called back from inside her room.
Footsteps approached.
“Get under my bed,” she whispered, yanking her blanket off her mattress.
Thrudi scooched under, and Mott handed her Fenris.
“Mott?” Her mother knocked lightly on the door.
“Just a minute!” Mott said, trying to not to sound like someone attempting to hide a Valkyrie and a moon-eating wolf under the bed. “I’m rearranging my room!”
Mott got on her hands and knees. “Are you okay under there? I know it’s cramped. . . .”
“I am quite comfortable, provided I don’t move.”
“Good.” Mott stuffed her blanket under her bed to keep Thrudi and Fenris out of view.
She opened her door.
“Were you talking to yourself?”
“Just practicing the script for my next root beer video.” She smiled too much.
Her mom peered over her shoulder. “Putting your blanket under your bed is how you’re rearranging your room?”
“It’s a work in progress.” Now she was smiling so much she could feel her mouth muscles straining. “Hey, Mom, why don’t you change into dry clothes and then we can chat in the kitchen.”
Why did Mott say “chat”? She never used the word “chat.”
A few minutes later, they were in the kitchen, chatting. Mott only half listened while her mom got out pots and pans and ingredients to make soto ayam for dinner and explained why she was home early. It involved someone named Dolores and another person named Gloria and work shifts and doctor appointments and trading hours, and Mott just nodded along.
“How was your day?” Mom asked, chopping green onions.
Mott sat on a stool on the other side of the counter, mincing a shallot. She decided to give her mom an honest answer: “Today was really strange.”
“Aw, I bet. Was it hard handing the pup over to the wolf rescue folks?”
“It was much harder than I thought.”
“You did thing right thing, honey, and I’m proud of you.”
Someone burped.
“Gross, Mott. What do you say?”
Fenris sat at Mott’s feet, tail wagging. “Excuse me,” she said, staring daggers into Fenris’s soulful eyes.
Fenris released a mighty belch.
“Mott!”
“I’m thinking of changing my root beer ratings system from bubbles to burps. Belchenheim, two out of five burps.” She fake-burped two times. Then Fenris burped, and Mott fake-burped again to cover Fenris’s actual burp.
“Why don’t you stick with bubbles?” her mom said. While she bent to grab another pan from the cupboard, Mott snatched up Fenris and rushed him back into her room.
“Sorry,” Thrudi said in the open doorway. “He’s slippery.”
“Ungggh,” Mott said, thrusting Fenris into her hands. “I have to help my mom make dinner or she’ll get suspicious.”
“I’ll keep a tighter grasp on him,” Thrudi said. “I promise.”
“Are you talking to yourself again?” her mom called.
At a loss for what to say, Mott just burped and went back to the kitchen and started chopping cilantro.
“I spoke to your dad,” Mott’s mom said, keeping her tone casual, like this was something that happened every day.
“Oh, yeah?”
“He wanted to talk about sending you out to visit.”
“Like I’m gonna fall for that one again.”
“Mott . . .”
“It’s fine,” Mott said. “We practically just got to Culver City. I don’t mind staying put. I haven’t had much of a chance to get a feel for the place yet.”
“But it’s not fine. You know I don’t like to talk trash about your dad. I want you to have a good relationship with him. You deserve to have a good relationship with him. But I hate that he breaks promises to you, and you need to know that it’s not your fault.”
Mott managed a smile. She hugged her mom around the waist. “Talking about feelings is gross.”
Her mom kissed the top of her head. “It’s not as gross as burping.”
“Like this?” She let out an epic belch. Her mom tried not to laugh and failed.
“Well, maybe I’ll get to see Dad before the end of the world,” Mott said.
Her mom gave her a quizzical look, and they chopped vegetables together.
Hours later, after her mom had gone to bed, Mott slipped into her bedroom with a bowl of Indonesian chicken soup and a few bottles of root beer.
“You can come out,” she whispered.
Thrudi and Fenris emerged from under the bed. Thrudi stretched her legs. “Oh, thank the All-Father.”
“Sorry I left you stuck under there so long. My mom’s not always home for dinner, so she wanted to talk. But I brought you some soto ayam.”
Thrudi sat on Mott’s bed and took in a whiff of the spicy noodles. She spent the next few minutes forking in mouthfuls.
“This is so good,” she mumbled with a full mouth. “Better than cocoa. Dare I say, even better than root beer.”
“Aw, yay,” Mott said. “It’s an Indonesian dish. My family’s from Indonesia and Holland, mostly. Mom likes to make Indonesian food when she has time.”
“She seems hardworking,” Thrudi said.
“She is. She really tries to take care of us.”
“You seem well capable of taking care of yourself,” Thrudi said. That made Mott feel good. “Do you have more family?”
“Sort of.” Mott showed Thrudi a picture on her phone. “This is my dad and his family. The blond woman is Carrie, his wife. My stepmom, I guess. The kids are Devin and Darla, my half siblings.” They had Mott’s dark skin, her brown eyes, her straight black hair. They looked so much like her, but she barely knew them. She sent them birthday cards every year, and one time, she sent a case of Gorbenheimer root beer. Carrie sent back a thank-you card and signed their names.
Mott pointed at the golden retriever who sat between Devin and Darla like another brother, a member of the family. “This is Butch. I’ve never met him, but he looks nice.”
After some thought, Mott drew a second checkmark next to “Men forget the bonds of kinship.”
Thrudi gave her a sad nod. “I couldn’t help but overhear you and your mother talking about your father. I don’t wish to insult him, but he dishonors himself by breaking his oaths.”
Mott climbed up on the bed next to Thrudi. Fenris sat between them, accepting belly scritches. “What’s your family like?”
“My family was slain when a band of giants burned down our village,” Thrudi said plainly.
It took Mott a moment to find her breath. “That’s horrible.”
“It was. But it was a long time ago. Those who did it are bones and dust now, hopefully suffering in Helheim. It is better than they deserve.”
Thrudi’s voice trailed off, and Mott could tell her thoughts were far away. Mott left her alone with them for a while. Only when Thrudi blinked and came back to the present did Mott have another question for her.
“You said bones and dust. I thought you were about my age. How old are you?”
“I am about your age. But I’m also ancient. Time works differently on my world than it does on yours. Anyway, I survived, and I was found by the Valkyrie chieftain Radgrid. She took me to Asgard to dwell with her sister shield-maidens, and they are my family now. We are not related by blood, but rather are bound by oath and love.” Thrudi studied Mott’s face. “You don’t have anyone in your life like that?”
