Odin's Murder

She makes herself busy wiping and rewiping the stainless steel counter. “The birds—they’re folklore around here. Miriam loves the old crow stories. Ever since we were kids.”

I lean against the counter. “What kind of stories?”

“The old ones. I’m part Carolina Sioux. My grandmother was full-blooded. She used to tell the stories about the birds that turned into humans and wandered the earth. Those were our favorite.”

“We have a research book on that, about Odin’s crows, trapped on this side of his portal, unable to get back to him.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know about any Odin, but my grandmother always told us that the magical birds escaped death by shape-shifting into men, then walking the earth, carrying their magic until they had a child to pass it on to. And so it went through the generations.”

“What kind of magic?”

“I don’t like to talk about magic. I’m a Christian woman. We don’t believe in all that. Miriam, though, she did. She checked everyone she met to see if they were one of these crows in human form.”

“Did she ever find one?” I joke.

“If she did I don’t want to know about it.” She folds up her towel and places in on the edge of the sink. “You’re a good boy, Ethan. You keep that temper down and stay out of trouble. I’ll tell Mr. Burnett to let you out of kitchen duty.”

“Thanks, Constance.”

“Come see me though, and I’ll make you something to eat. You’re too skinny.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I feel my cheeks turn hot.

“Go, leave.”

I untie my apron and hang it on the hook. “Goodnight, ma’am.”

*

Under the lamplight, near the campus fountain, I pull the charm out of my pocket. I find myself reaching for the rune often, like it has a secret only I can figure out. The rock Faye slipped me that first day of group helped ease my tension, but this rune has strength to it, like I’m holding an arrow between my fingers. I like the heavy weight of it, even though it’s so small.

A group of students passes on their way back to the dorms so I follow them, splitting off as I get close to my own building. Whispers and laughter mingle with the night noises, and I stop before I intrude. Faye and Julian are at the bench closest to the dorm. She’s sitting, still in her get-up from the poetry reading, swinging her feet in the boots, and Julian stands next to her, rubbing the back of his neck, looking bewildered, but she’s smiling.

“Hi, Ethan,” Faye says, before I can back away in another direction, but she stands to leave. I grin at her. Gotta admit, Cherry did a good job. Faye looks hot in a Betty-Boop kind of way, all eyes and low cut dress. I look away as they say goodnight. Julian watches her walk to her dorm, raises his hand when she waves from the door.

“So she got past the slut comment?” I ask, angling left before he walks into a lamppost.

He nods, glassy-eyed. “It’s not what I meant.”

“I know dude, but, really?”

“So how pissed is Mems?” He shoves his fists into his pockets and glances at the girls’ dorm as we wait for a group of kids to walk by, and then up at the clock tower. Curfew is minutes away.

“Just leave it ‘til tomorrow,” I say. “She’ll be alright.”

“I’ve never spoken to her like that. And she was so mad. I’m almost afraid to go to sleep. One of us may not wake up.”

“She said she wanted to be alone. Buy her a coffee in the morning and carry her books and she’ll be fine.” I wasn’t sure if I believed it, but it was worth a shot to get him inside. “So you and Faye are okay?”

“Ah, yeah.” He looks everywhere but at me. “Did you hear her poem?”

“Not all of it.”

“It was a translation, from a stone, about Odin’s crows.”

“Like the stories in Anders’ book.”

“Yeah. And there’s something about that story in the book that’s very similar, but the source isn’t quoted.” He punches in the door code to the dorm.