Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
There’s a knock at the door.
“Skathi would like to invite you down to dinner, sir.” A disembodied voice comes through the door. A house demon, no doubt, or perhaps a human sycophant with no need for sunlight.
“Clean up. Wash your hands. Brush your hair."
He’s worried about what I look like. He wants to make a good impression. Sweet, but futile. Has he already forgotten why we are here? I am in exile.
“Can’t brush curly hair. Makes it look mental. You don’t need me looking crazy on top of everything else.”
“Then come downstairs and try not to make everything worse.”
“I will try.”
“What was your profession before you became a murderer?” Skathi is attempting to make polite conversation in a dining room lit by candles. The curtains are drawn against the cold day. I wonder if she's sensitive to the sun. There are some people who are allergic to ultra violet radiation. She could be one of them.
Thor looks at me. I could try being polite too, I suppose. Let me try.
“Oh, I didn't have one. I just sort of scraped by. You know begged, borrowed, lived cheaply. Wait. No. Sustainably. That's what it's called now when you have fuck all. I was incredibly sustainable.”
Skathi shoots Thor a look. She must be horrified. I am sure she always imagined her son with someone more appropriate. A valkyrie, or a Nordic model.
“This is really good food, by the way. Thank you.”
I’m not lying. It’s fucking delicious. Mutton and cabbage don’t sound good to a lot of people, but when you’ve lived most of your recent life on a diet of perished perishables, real meat and vegetables are luxuries. Crocombe’s food was very good too, but there's something extra special about the fare a mother prepares for her child. I know this isn't for me. She made it for Thor.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying your meal," she says. “Does your mother like to cook?”
“My mother is dead. So her cooking’s been limited.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. And your father?”
“God knows. Or maybe he doesn’t. I definitely don’t know.”
“Ah," she says, as if I make sense now. Poor little orphan Anita. Her pity makes me bristle, though I know it is well intended. I'd rather be disliked than pitied, if I’m to be honest.
“I know. Your god son has dragged a stray in. But guess what? I used his hammer. It worked with me. Through me. And that means I am not utter rubbish. Even if I used to eat out of the rubbish. There’s a lot of nutrition in bins.”
Skathi looks shocked again.
“Anita…” Thorn warns me.
“She's trying to get to know me. I’m helping her. I’m not going to lie to your mother. Is that what you’d like me to do? Lie to her?”
“No. Of course not. But the details don't need to be quite so… detailed.”
I return to eating and spare everybody my attempts at conversation. I know I don't belong here. I know I don't belong with Thor, really. I’m an accident.
Eventually the food is gone and then I am sent back up to the room. Thor takes me and locks me in with the iron frame bed and the little wooden bedside tables. This room should be full of fine things. Instead it is furnished with the bare minimum. It's not his room, then. It’s just a room we have been assigned together. I wonder if he asked for us to be assigned to this place of spare parts where nothing truly belongs.
“I’m going to speak to my mother. You should get some rest.”
“Thor?"
“Yes?”
“I don't belong here.”
He hesitates a moment before leaving. “Nobody does.”
Thor
She needs time to settle. I need time to think. I did not imagine I would find myself exiled back to the remote Norwegian wilds with a little murderess. First she took my hammer, then she took my life.
My mother is waiting for me outside. The sun has set, and she still enjoys her evening strolls. I accompany her and together we walk the grounds. We stroll in silence at first. We have never been conversationalists, she and I.
“You like her, don’t you.”
“I love her,” Skathi says, the skin about her eyes crinkling with the warmth she has been hiding.
“I was afraid of that.”
“You shouldn’t have told her that I am your mother. It’s an untruth she’ll discover. She’s here for the truth. Give it to her.”
“You gave me life. That makes you a mother. That's truth enough for now.”
“Thor, if you keep deceiving her, it will end in more than tears. It will end in pain. Yours, and hers. You brought her here, to me, because you knew I would not allow deception.”
“I brought her here because the moment she put her hands on my hammer, she was out of control, and I don’t think she can be brought back under control. Not in civilized society. There's something about her, Skathi. Something unnatural. I don't understand why the hammer responds to her. Is she one of yours? Is she demon spawn?”