Odin's Murder

Mary opens the door, waving my paperwork. “Ready?”

I’m out of my chair before she even finishes the word. “Let’s go!” My words are garbled by a smile so big it hurts my face.

“Good luck, Tyrell,” the guy says, holding out a hand for me to shake. “The world is a big place. Make the most of it.”

“Yes, sir.”

He has no idea how huge my world is, or that I have a destiny bigger than his reality has room for, so I nod and smile, and hold the door for Mary. We walk through the metal detectors to the outside. Same air, same sky, but it’s always bluer on this side of the fence.

“Slow down,” Mary says.

I stop, walk back to her, and stride off again. “I can’t tell you how good it feels just to walk out that door. I swear the air is fresher out here.”

“The officer got the right of it, Ethan. The world is a big place, and you got it all in your hands. You do right by me, you hear?”

“I’m good, Mary. I’ve had enough fighting for a lifetime. I promise.”

I don’t confess that I’m scared. That I’m on my own and that the only people in the world I have is a set of psychic twins, a weird witchy chick and an anonymous comic book sender, who last I saw was a black bird. I have no parents, no job, and no home, and a Norse god with expectations I can’

t even begin to understand.

The car feels smaller than it used to be. I roll down the window, enjoy the wind on my face, but we go only about five miles down the rural road when Mary stops at an abandoned gas station.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“You’ll see.”

All I want in the world is to get to a phone, so I can call Memory. My head is so full of her, I could almost reach out and touch her skin. Another car pulls up beside us, a black SUV, huge, with dark windows, something out of a gangster movie.

“Who is that? Are you leaving me here?” I ask. The door swings open and the longest, hottest pair of legs comes in view. God, I’ve missed her. I scramble out of the Nissan and attack her. Pick her up and kiss her face and lips and neck. And damn, does she smell good.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.”

“Put me down?” She laughs.

“No.” I do, but I don’t let go. Not for a second.

“I figured Memory would cause a short circuit at the Detention Center if I brought her in looking like that, so we decided to meet here,” Mary explains.

“Yeah.” I can’t tear my eyes off her shorts and her shoulders and her neck. My cellmate would have had a heart attack.

“Come here,” Mary says, waving me to the back of her car. She opens the trunk and points inside. I reach in for my camera bag and portfolio. “I also packed you a bag. Some clothes and necessities to get you started. My going away gift.”

I lift the bag of clothing out and Memory takes my portfolio. She opens the back door of her SUV and puts them in. I turn to Mary. “Thanks for everything. I mean it. All of it.”

“You’re welcome. Be good. Stay safe.”

“We won’t see you again?” Memory asks. She’s beside me, fingers wrapped in mine.

“You are always welcome in my house.” She steps forward and gives me a hug, the first one from her I’ve had for a very long time. She seems tiny now. “Good luck.”

She gets in her car and drives away, leaving Memory and I on the side of the road. I pull Cherry to me and give her another kiss. The kind you give when no one is watching, that has her against the vehicle, and my hands full of her hair and her legs around my waist. I kiss her until we are both moaning, my lips drifting over her cheek, to her neck, and lower, searching through the fabric of her top for the nipple that rises to my touch.

“Stop that,” she says, as she arches into my mouth. “Or we’ll never make it to the island.”

“Island?”