Modern Goddess: Trapped by Thor (Book One) (3 page)

“
I would be honored,” the
forest goddess kept her keen, glittering gaze on Thor, “Honored,”
her plush lips molded around the word with all the warmth and
pressure of a kiss.

Thor kept Mjollnir at his side, nodded –
though not nearly as low – then promptly skipped to the front of
the line.

I watched in annoyance, but there was
nothing I could do. If this forest bimbo wanted to give up her
place in the line to everyone's least favorite blond-bearded
arrogant nong, she could. There was nothing I could do. Likewise
with the fact Thor hadn't put his paper work in yet. Being an
official god worshiped on Earth, the process was simpler for
Thor/Zeus/Jupiter.

Thor marched to the front of the line and
flashed a triumphant look at me. The look was rightly triumphant
because he’d rightly won.

For my part, I watched the way each strand
of his golden hair glinted in the light from the sun beyond us. I
noted the way Mjollnir sat in his grip as if it were an extension
of his own body – neither his skin nor his arm were under any
pressure from the great hammer. I watched the way his towering form
cast a long shadow over the other gods and goddesses behind
him.

Thor caught my gaze and crossed his powerful
arms across his chest plate, his biceps rippling. “Stop watching
me, Details,” he spat. “Hurry up – you have a whole line of divine
beings, and you have a job to do.”

I didn't need him to remind me what my job
was. Rather than point this out, I turned and marched into my
office. “I’m ready to see you, Nordic God of Thunder,” I said
through a tightly clenched jaw.

Thor sauntered in behind me, and I could
feel the presence of Mjollnir with every reverberating step.

He sat in the chair opposite my desk with
such a thud the thing's feet grated against the floor. I was sure
there was a scratch there now.

As the sun filtered in from the glass wall
beside me, it played against the gold of his helmet, of his chest
plate, and of his hair. It lit him up until he shone, and yet it
plunged one side of him into shadow. A stark contrast between light
and dark that made him all the more real and imposing.

He rested one hand over the edge of the
chair, Mjollnir held loosely. He used the other hand to tap on his
armrest. “Make this quick, Details.”

I stared at him coldly. I fancied the only
reason he treated me with such disdain – other than the fact I was
the one who always stood between him and his less-than dignified
exploits on Earth – was that I was immune to his particular set of
charms. Unlike the forest bimbo out in the hall, I wasn't about to
fall for the smile of some victory god – I wasn't about to get
sucked in by those wondrously blue eyes that sparkled like the
clearest ocean, or that physique that was more chiseled than a
marble statue of a god.

Because I saw beyond the impression to the
details underneath. The way the fabric of his belt didn't sit flush
with his torso, the way his hair was messy on the left side of his
head, the way the fine lines at the corners of his eyes gave away
his true age. Noticing these details – paring Thor back to the
lines, shapes, colors, behaviors, and words – stopped me from
becoming overcome by the god himself.

“
Details,” he growled, “Less
staring, more stamping.”

I took an obvious sigh and was annoyed when
a tendril of ice-white hair popped out of my near-perfect bun. Thor
always had a way of making me come undone. Patting my hair back
into place, I tried to regain my immigration-officer stare. “Why
might you be wanting to visit Earth, Nordic God of Thunder?”

Thor grinned, his golden beard hardly
hiding the obvious mirth locked in his jaw. “That would be for
pleasure – if you know what that is, Details.”

I stared back at him. “You are intending to
maintain your identity, are you? You are going to be Thor today, I
suppose?”

He stared back at me, one large finger
tapping against the handle of his hammer.

“
I'm sure you can remember that
one of your alter-egos – Jupiter, was it? – got into a messy fight
in Rome the last time he visited and has been banned from touring
Italy for at least a month.” I pushed my glasses up my nose and
settled back into my chair. I was going to play this card for all
it was worth. For several sweet seconds I was going to enjoy a
victory over the embodiment of victory himself.

Thor ran a hand through his beard, anger
starting to trace across his brow. “I’m Thor.”

“
Yes, but you are also Jupiter
and Zeus. You have three functioning divine entities, God of
Thunder. A fact you exploit to the utmost. While I cannot hold your
current form to charge for the crimes of Jupiter, I can point out
that you are rapidly running out of chances.”

Thor dipped his head down. It was the
smallest of moves, but it had all the gravitas of an army standing
right in front of you and cocking all their guns at once. “Are you
threatening me, Details?”

I took a sharp breath, trying to ignore
his glare and the rising song of Mjollnir. “Threatening? No. I’m
pointing out that you are rapidly running out of identities. I
suppose you remember that incident last summer with Zeus, where you
– in your own words – accidentally destroyed an entire bar after a
spectacular brawl? After that mishap, Zeus can no longer visit
bars, alehouses, pubs, clubs, or any establishment that serves
alcohol. You've been banned from Italy with Jupiter, too. Your
current identity as Thor is the only one you have left. A word of
advice, God of Thunder: don't go breaking any more rules.” I tried
not to smile too much. I was playing this scenario for all it was
worth, though I knew I was going to pay for it later. This was
Thor/Jupiter/Zeus I was taunting here. He was powerful, arrogant,
and usually held one hell of a grudge. He was also extremely
connected.

Thor leaned forward in his chair, his grip
fastening on his hammer until his knuckles whitened. I couldn't
stop my gaze from flicking over to it. With every second his
knuckles popped up further against his skin and the song of
Mjollnir grew louder.

“
I do not need your warning,
goddess of details – grant me the contract, and I will be done with
you.”

I tried not to swallow as I reached for a
fresh contract from my top drawer. I handed it over to him without
another word.

Thor grabbed the pen on my desk, disturbing
the inkwell until it tipped and sent great puddles of ink soaking
over the wood.

I let out a sharp breath, but didn't jump
back in time to stop the ink from pooling over the desk and
dripping onto my skirt.

Thor laughed slowly and deeply
as he
signed
his name.

Patting my skirt, my jaw so tense I could
have chewed through a small moon, I stared up at him. “Do you agree
to be bound by this contract, Thor?”

He waved me off. “Yes, Details, I will be
bound by it. Before you take the time to remind me of what those
rules are – I have heard them before. Save your breath.” He stood
up – not a splash of ink anywhere on him though I was covered in
the stuff.

“
How long do you plan on
staying on Earth?” I remembered I hadn't asked nearly enough
questions, though more questions at this stage would lead to Thor
throwing me out the window and right into the heart of the
sun.

“
For as long as I feel
like.” Thor swung his hammer onto his shoulder and rested it there
as if the thing weighed nothing more than air and light.

I sighed heavily and rolled my eyes.
“Fine.” I stopped short of saying the usual “Please enjoy your
stay, divinity” speech, and stared pointedly at the
door.

Thor glared down at me. He was a towering
titan of a man with a winged Viking helmet, a glittering
breastplate, and a giant hammer resting easily on his shoulder. Me
– I was a small ordinary goddess with large black-rimmed glasses
and a stained skirt and blouse.

A triumphant smile spread over his
lips.

He turned on his heel and left – not
before Mjollnir gently struck the door frame and caused a massive
crack to appear from the tiny impact.

He didn’t turn around to say sorry. He was
Thor. He half-marched half-sauntered down the corridor, not before
he made quick and distasteful plans to meet up with the forest
bimbo later.

I leaned out of my door – tiny fragments
of glass drifting down on me – staring at his back. My eyes
naturally narrowed and my mouth instinctively pressed together. If
I'd had something near me to throw, I would have pitched it at him.
That would, however, not be in my job description, nor would it be
a good idea. Thor tolerated me while I worked for the Integration
Office. He had to at least not kill me while I was in uniform. If
I, however, breached the rules or acted outside the confines of the
office, Thor could treat me however he liked. In here, I was an
official god immigration officer – out there I was just the goddess
of details. The great god of victory and lightning versus the
goddess of details would be a short and demoralizing
battle.

I took a deep breath and tried to steady
myself. I glanced at the crack in my doorframe and tried to count
the fractures in the glass, then I tried to distinguish the exact
colors of the stains on my skirt. Letting myself sink into details
settled me down.

“
Um, excuse me,” a small
voice said from behind me.

I turned to stare down at a tiny
radish-like creature who was about half-a-foot tall.

“
Yes?” I asked
politely.

“
I do not mean to hurry
you,” it said in a high, but nonetheless earthy tone. “I have a
harvest to get to.”

“
I see,” I said professionally. I
noted the detailed patterns on the toga the radish-god wore, and I
felt ready to press on with the day. Thor, for all he was worth,
could go hang. I only had to deal with him in the Immigration
Office, and our run-ins were usually short enough that I could not
bother about them.

I tugged on my ink-stained blouse and led
the radish god into my office. I had a job to do. This radish god
had to get to a harvest.

I was tired. Though I was a goddess, I still
felt fatigue and weariness.

I might not age like ordinary humans or
animals, but I shared their ability to get worn out.

I decided, uncharacteristically, to pick
up take away on the way home. Though I loved to cook – as I
relished the sight of seeing tiny bubbles form and build in a
boiling pot of water, or that certain sound crackling hot oil makes
as freshly cut vegetables are thrown into it – today I didn't have
the energy.

I decided the best thing was pizza, a
small tub of boysenberry-swirl ice cream, and a film. Though I
preferred a good book or a meteorological assessment as a wind-down
from work, a movie would do. Anything that contained information
set me at peace. Though I couldn't get pulled into the story of a
movie – the colors, and shapes, and forms could pull me in,
instead.

I walked along the street, my simple
handbag held primly before me. As I walked, I watched the people. I
saw what they were wearing, how they were moving, and noted each
and every expression. I also watched the buildings, the sky, and
street. There was always more to note. The harder you looked at
something, the more the details of its reality unfolded, and the
more that occurred, the realer it became – and in turn, the realer
I became along with it.

I patted a hand against my tight bun and
let a smile spread across my lips. I may not have had the power of
Thor, nor the victory, nor the smile – but what I had was still
divine. At the end of the day – or the era, or time, or however you
wanted to put it – divinity was all equal. It might express itself
differently, but there was something germane to all gods – they are
all god-like, all divine, all supreme.

Thor could keep the hammer and golden hair,
and I'd keep the facts and figures. Oh, and the cottage with the
cat and roses.

As I walked farther along the street, I
settled back into myself. It was like walking back home after a
lifetime of being away. My arms wrapped around me with all the
warmth and welcome of a long-lost family member.

The warm, happy, I'm-a-goddess feelings
didn’t last. As I tried to count the rays of the dying sun, I
stupidly walked into the back of someone. One of the things about
dazedly staring up at the sky was you forgot to look where you were
going.

I mumbled a quick sorry and went to move
around the man – who was abnormally large.

“
Details,” the man grumbled
as he turned around. Sure enough, Thor stared down at me from his
considerable height.

My jaw could have dropped off – and would
later on when Thor socked me in the face for having the hubris to
walk into him.

He was no longer dressed in his full godly
garb – that would break countless rules. Walking around in a helmet
that glistened with the trapped light of thousands of suns and
carrying a hammer that sang a distinct and trembling note of
victory wouldn’t go unnoticed on a normal street. Though the people
around me no longer believed in gods – not as they did 2000 years
ago – they might adjust that belief at the sight of thunderous
Thor.

It was forbidden to reveal your god
identity to mortal man. That meant no swanning around in impossible
armor with singing weapons.