“I don’t think discipline is going to work. That's the thing about me, Thor. I don't care what's going to happen later. I never have. It’s like consequences don’t exist until they happen and by that time it’s too late. I’m not trying to be a fucking prick. It just happens.”
“Thank you for being honest,” he says. “You are what we are. We’re all what we are.” As he speaks, he’s wrapping silken ties around my wrists. I’m tired, but I reckon I can go another round, especially if all I have to do is lie there and let the demigod or whatever the hell he is thunder inside me.
But he doesn’t tie me up to fuck me. He ties me to the bed, one arm at each corner. He then proceeds to do the same to my ankles until I am naked, dripping, spread-eagled, his captive. He tosses a light blanket over me then stands there, hands on his hips, looking generally satisfied.
“You’re going to be bound, restrained, and even caged when I can’t watch you,” he tells me. “That’s the only way I will ever know you're truly safe. I have someone else I need to deal with.”
Thor
“Crichton!”
If it is possible for a demon to look hang dog, he does. Crichton has served Bryn's family for longer than any of us have been in existence. I've not chastised him before. What right did I have then? Now I have every right.
“If you wish to lecture me, sir, know that I have already been thoroughly rebuked by the master. He has made it most clear that guests to the house are not to be taken through Hell itself.”
“I have tied her up in the bedroom.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Do not let her out. Under any circumstances. I don’t care what she says. I don't care what the hammer wills. She, and it, must stay in their respective places. Am I understood?
“Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir.”
I need to speak with Bryn. This situation has reached a head and cannot continue. Something has to give. Something has to happen. I just don't know what.
I find Bryn in his library, reading. He’s not usually a reader, and I doubt he is taking in any of the information in the book. I think he's sitting there, stewing on recent events. He was not happy to have Anita here in the first place, and he’s almost certainly less happy now.
“I think she’s a psychopath.”
“Probably," Bryn says, barely looking up from his book.
“No. I mean really. She doesn’t connect cause to effect. She’s pure chaos because she simply doesn't care about consequences.”
“You sound excited about that.”
I do sound excited about that, but I know I shouldn’t be. “The hammer responds to her. She was allowed passage through Hell…” My thoughts are coming more quickly than I can express them. They’re not strung together in a coherent order. They’re just there, circling my mind, attempting to make sense of themselves.
"She's a demon,” Bryn says.
“Yes. I mean. No. She's not, or obviously you'd have been overcome with the desire to slay her. She’s not a demon. But there’s a little demon in her. Or a little deity.”
“We are all blessed in various ways,” he says, turning the page.
I am more than a little affronted that he is not listening.
“Am I boring you with the revelation that we may have a new spark of heaven or hell in our midst?”
Bryn looks up from his book, dark eyes cool. “A little,” he admits. “She’s your problem, Thor. I have a wife to worry about. And a roof to fix. And the Brotherhood is being forced to deal with Fleish on their own, which is a significant concern, given we appear have allowed blood trade out of our bloody parish. Forgive me if I am not fascinated by the provenance of your latest conquest.”
"She's more than a conquest. She’s blood bound to me.”
“Yes. And she's still a terrible influence on Nina.”
Selfish prick. Bryn cannot see further than the end of his own nose. His wife. His abbey. His failures. He is not a popular figure among our number, and he seems disinclined to do anything to amend that.
“Perhaps I should take her back to Norway with me. Get her out of your hair.”
“Maybe,” Bryn says. He’s looking back at his book.
This coldness is not like him. He is usually all brimstone and fury. To see him sitting there pretending he cares about words printed on a page is concerning.
"What is wrong?”
He slams the book shut. “We are losing control. We are losing power. We are becoming irrelevant, and all you can do is fuck a local.”
“A local who can wield the hammer of Thor.”
“Anybody can use a hammer. She’s a filthy slattern, a waste of breath, and she’s… standing behind you.”
I turn to see Anita standing behind me, just as Bryn said. She looks very upset. She has reason to be, after the tirade he just unleashed concerning her.