Odin's Murder

“Nothing much is,” she says and walks down the hall and away from me.

“Wait, Miriam, I have something for you.” I dig in my pocket and fish out the stoneless silver setting.

She takes it from my palm, and murmurs without looking away from it, “We leave in ten minutes.”

Ten minutes isn’t enough time, not for all I want to say, or do, or feel, but it’s all I have, so I suck back my emotions and open the bedroom door. Ethan is lying on the bed. I fight a gasp at the sight of his battered face and body, his arm wrapped in gauze. He’s not wearing a shirt and now is not the time to be checking him out, but I can see how he was made in the image of a god.

His eyes open and a small grin appears and he says, “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what?” I play dumb.

“For scaring you. And making you feel like I didn’t care.” He looks down at the sheet. “Because I do. And couldn’t get you out of there if I was in chains. I had to fake it, pretend like I was with him. I wasn’t, not for a second.”

“Even when he offered you a lifetime of glory?”

“Even then.”

“Don’t ever do that again.”

“I won’t.” His eyes promise, too. I kiss his cheek, and then the other, like I’ve taken an oath, or a vow. He smiles. “Where are the others? Is everyone alright?”

“Yeah, Faye and Julian are in the living room. I caught them going at it earlier. So weird.” I shudder. “Sonja is still down there, with him. She’s really mad at her mom.”

“I’m a little pissed, too,” he says. “Is Sonja still. Um.” His face twists, and he links his thumbs, and flutters his fingers, a hand shadow puppet of a bird.

“Yeah.” I shake my head, still unable to wrap my head around my brother flying, like he had been born for it.

“What about you? How are you doing?” Ethan sits up with a groan.

“Best I can.” I help him tug a T-shirt over his hurt arm. It’s a little tight in all the right places. “Knowing I have only ten minutes with you and the weight of a God’s orders on my shoulders.”

“Close the door.” His voice is rough. I pull it shut, and crowd next to him on the squishy mattress. “Closer,” he says.

“No, you’re hurt.”

“Cherry, I have eleven months ahead of me with no one but a hundred other guys to sleep, eat, and shower with. I can take a little pain to feel you next to me.” His hand is warm on my back, and I relent and curl up into his side.

“Eleven months?”

“Nine, if I can stay out of trouble. Then I’m out. On my own.”

“Not alone, though.”

I feel his mouth against my hair. “No, not alone.”

“I’m worried for you. The rest of us are going back to normal life and we’ll have each other. You’re getting locked away with a bunch of hoodlum thugs for something that isn’t your fault.”

“Hoodlum thugs? What have you been reading?” he asks. “I started that fight, don’t forget that. I’ll be fine. I’m used to it.”

“It shouldn’t be. Jeremy was working under Dr. Anders’ control!” I twist the material of his t-shirt in my fist. “I hate this. Julian and Faye and Miriam keep calling it—what we have, what we can do—a talent or a power, but it’s nothing more than a curse. You know he expects us to be back in a year? A year and a day. I tried to talk him into taking you now, keeping you out of prison, but it was an all or nothing deal. Sonja’s still there, I don’t see why you can’t be.”

“She’s probably a special case. Custody settlement or something.” I can feel him smile, the way his face moves against my cheek. “Is that why I can’t sense her? She isn’t here?”

I nod. “I think so.”