Perfekt Order (The Ære Saga Book 1) (23 page)

“Freya!” I shrieked. She was going to have
some
major
explaining to do.

“Sorry, Mia.” She ran a hand through her
strawberry locks. “Tyr would want me to make sure you stay safe.”
With two graceful strides, she jumped high in the air and flew the
twenty yards toward the altercation.
How is that even
possible?
She landed on the creature’s back and started
tearing, sending tufts of fur floating to the ground. The animal
roared, and Tyr reached for his gun. He fired a series of laser
beams into the animal’s neck, but it didn’t flinch. Instead, it
grew very still, and gave Tyr a steely-eyed stare that left frost
in my heart. Then it disappeared in a puff of smoke.

My face was pressed so hard against the
invisible barrier at the door, I’d lost feeling in my nose. My
fists pounded helplessly against the unseen shield like a pitiful,
angry mime.

Tyr and Freya remained floating above the
ground. Did the laws of physics not apply here? There was no way
Henrik had invented something that could make them do
that
.
Were they doing it on their own? And if they were… there was no way
they were… were they even human? Mortal? What the hell was going
on?

Freya saw me gaping and muttered something to
Tyr. He glanced over his shoulder with a grimace, then put his gun
in his back pocket and glided slowly to the ground. He didn’t break
eye contact as he walked steadily toward me, pausing at the steps
leading up to the porch. He held out his hands, palms up.

“Mia,” he murmured.

That was when I realized I was shaking,
though with anger at being kept in the dark, or shock that the guy
I thought I knew could fly, I hadn’t yet decided.

Tyr took two tentative steps onto the porch
and stopped. He took in the way my body was pressed against the
invisible barrier of the door, hands balled in tight fists by my
face as if I could push through it with sheer willpower. My eyes
were wet, my chin was quivering, and I stood on my toes, ready to
bolt as soon as someone lifted the block.

“Hey,” Tyr whispered softly. “It’s okay. It’s
just me.”

I shook my head violently. There was no
reconciling the man I’d been dating for the past couple of months
with the man I just saw fly, battle a monster, and fire off a
laser. Not to mention the mysterious weapons closet he’d never
mentioned—it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure crossbows and
space guns were the tip of the iceberg in there. And the best
friend who thought it was a good idea to lock me in the house like
some simpering girlfriend had another thing coming. I was a
girlfriend, yes, but I didn’t simper. I was tougher than she knew,
and I was about to show her.

“You want me to stick around?” Freya came up
behind Tyr.

“You,” I cried. “I don’t know what you are,
or who taught you appropriate social behavior, but you are a major
piece of work. It is not okay to lock people in houses.”

Tyr’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. If
he had, I’d have thrown something at him, door barrier or no.

“I’m sorry, Mia. I really am. And I know that
looked bad, but you have to believe I did it for your own good.”
Freya held up her hands.

“For my own good? What is it with you people
and those words? I don’t need you two protecting me. I can take
care of myself,
thank you very much
. I could have shot that
thing down, or at the very least distracted it. But your best idea
was to lock me in the house with one of Henrik’s techy-lighters?”
My voice had risen at least an octave. It wasn’t dignified, but I
was well beyond caring.

“Henrik’s techy-lighters? What’s she talking
about, Tyr?” Freya turned to Tyr. He tilted his head, looking
confused.

“The techy-lighters.” I glared. “You know,
the ones that made that bubble that kept the bad guy from seeing us
on the beach, or wherever.” Freya stared blankly at me. “Tyr has
one in his pocket. Show her.”

Tyr slowly pulled the lighter out of his back
pocket. He and Freya exchanged a glance. They seemed to be having a
silent conversation.

“See? The techy-lighter. Sorry I don’t know
its
proper
name. That’s what you used to lock me in here,
right? Right?” I waited for Freya’s confirmation, but she was
silent. Tyr tucked the lighter back into his pocket, and Freya tore
her eyes away from his.

“Mia, you and I can talk later. I’m truly
sorry for upsetting you. I won’t lock you anywhere again.” She
turned back to Tyr. “I’m going to leave you two alone. I won’t be
any help here. Call me if he comes back. I’m sorry he got
away.”

She was just going to leave? Just like that?
And what did she mean, he got away? The creature had disappeared in
a puff of smoke. I’d seen it. Surely he was dead, right?

“Step back, Mia.” Freya waved her hand at the
door, and I pushed my hand through. The barrier was gone. She
nodded at me and ran into the forest. I stared at the spot where
she’d disappeared until I couldn’t hear her footsteps.

“Can I come in?” Tyr asked. His hands were
still open—maybe to prove he was unarmed. Not that it mattered
much—a guy who could fly and battle a creature that size wouldn’t
need a weapon to debilitate me.

I gave him my finest stink eye.

“Please, baby. Let me explain.”

My eyes darted wildly between the forest and
my boyfriend. There was a beast in the woods, but there was a man
unaffected by gravity on the porch. One who had most definitely
lied to me. I wasn’t sure which unnerved me more.

What I really wanted was to understand;
understand how Tyr had done what he’d done; understand how he and
Freya seemed human enough, but obviously weren’t; understand how
that wolf was so powerful; understand how, if Tyr was an alien or a
superhero or a mutant or whatever he was, how we could possibly
have any kind of a relationship; understand why everyone but me had
Henrik’s absolutely awesome lighters.

“I’m coming inside.” Tyr walked slowly, palms
up, and stepped through the door. Then he walked backwards to the
closet, where he hung up his crossbow and the two space guns. He
shut the door gently, entered a code that I assumed locked the
room, and closed the cover on the keypad.

I still hadn’t moved.

“Can I touch you?” he asked.

I nodded. Tyr slowly moved to my side. He
took one of my balled fists and pulled me from the door.

“No more secrets,” he vowed. He pulled the
lighter out of his back pocket and threw it off the porch. “Henrik
didn’t make a special lighter. This is all me.”

He held out one hand and muttered something
in Swedish I didn’t understand. Light shot from his hand and I spun
around to follow its trajectory. It hit what looked like a clear
screen at the edge of the woods, and traced an arc around the house
in a half-dome, encasing the property in a silvery coating. Tiny
spots floated gently from the dome, like thousands of luminescent
snowflakes, and soon the ground around the house was covered in a
glittery powder. Tyr snapped his fingers and the powder
disappeared. Everything was as it had been—it was as if the whole
night had never happened.

My knees buckled as the room started to spin.
Tyr caught me just before I hit the ground. He swept me up in his
arms and carried me to the couch.

“Okay,
prinsessa
. Time for the
talk.”

He tucked a heavy throw around my legs and
sat next to me. He kept one of his shoulders an inch from mine. I
cautiously turned my head to appraise him. On the outside, nothing
had changed. His eyes were the same midnight blue, his jaw the same
perfect square, and the enormous arms folded calmly across his
chest were the same ones I loved to curl up in.

But everything felt different. I realized I
had no idea who this man actually was, where he came from, and what
else he was capable of. The only thing I knew for sure was that I
needed answers.
Real
answers, this time. No more
secrets.

I drew a shaky breath and spoke the words
that would change my life forever.

“Who are you?”

“
MAY I?” TYR HELD
out his hand.

I nodded.

He traced my palm with the pads of his
fingers. “I might have understated my position when I told you I
was in the military.”

“I figured.”

“I serve the Alfödr in a military role.”

“The all father…” I froze. “You’re in the
Mafia?”

“No.” Tyr chuckled. “That’s the godfather. I
serve Odin, the Alfödr. Father of all. Ruler of the gods.”

“So you’re in a—religious organization?” In
other words, a cult. I’d learned about those in sociology class.
Members suffer from deep disillusionment
. I slowly
extricated my hand and placed it in my lap. Tyr’s brow furrowed,
but he let me go.

“What? No. Let me try again.” He looked at
the recessed lights, then brought his gaze back to me. “Here’s the
thing.” He took a deep breath. “I’m a Norse god.”

“Of course you are. Look at you.” Talk about
stating the obvious.

“No, Mia. I’m a Nordic deity. Literally. I
serve the realms as God of War. I live in Asgard, under Odin’s
command, and oversee protection of the nine realms via termination
of hostile elements. I’m an assassin by profession, immortal by
nature, and I have a small legion of enemies with a price on my
head.” He watched my face, presumably for a reaction.

I stared blankly. Either he had a really
weird sense of humor, or being so good looking had given him a god
complex. I’d learned about those in sociology, too. “Is this
supposed to be funny?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Then what are you doing?” Tyr’s hands
circled my wrists. He laced his fingers through mine and held on as
if his life depended on it.

“I’m being honest with you.”

“You expect me to believe you’re the Norse
God of War. That isn’t funny. It’s just weird.”

“Then how would you explain what you saw
outside?” Tyr waited as I worked through my thoughts.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Atmospheric
phenomenon?”

“Do you believe that?”

No
. An atmospheric phenomenon wouldn’t
produce the kind of pressure inconsistency that elevated certain
items within its reach, but not others. But what Tyr had suggested
wasn’t exactly believable either.

“You’re telling me you’re a god? And you
expect me to take you seriously?” That request was utterly absurd.
There weren’t gods in real life. They were the stuff of
myths—characters in storybooks and movies. The real world had
people and animals and the occasional vacuuming robot. But it most
definitely did
not
have gods. And it absolutely did not have
gods who went out with human college girls.

“Well, you’ve kissed me. What do you think?”
Tyr winked. Then he looked down at our clasped hands and frowned;
mine started to tremble so hard they became a blur.

“No more jokes. Are you telling the
truth?”

“I swear on my sister’s life,” Tyr vowed. “I
am a god. And a rather good-looking one, if I say so myself.”

CHEESE AND FREAKING CRACKERS
. He
wasn’t kidding. Either he was completely delusional, or I’d been
about to give my virginity to an honest-to-goodness
god
.

In through the nose, out through the
mouth. In through the nose out through the… oh, who am I
kidding?
There was no way to breathe my way out of this panic
attack. My boyfriend was a god.
A god
.
A GOD
. What
the hell was I supposed to do with that? The existence of
mythological deities did not fit into my black-and-white
world-view, and dating one most certainly did not factor into my
five-year plan.
Holy mother of pearl
. I was a living,
breathing, glittery supernatural teen movie in the making. Only I
wasn’t the swooning co-ed anymore. Now I was barely holding it
together.

“You’re a god?” I whispered.

“Yes,” Tyr answered. Again.

“Are you going to hurt me?” I asked.

“What? No. Why would you even ask that?” He
squeezed my hands softly, then brushed one finger against my cheek.
For the first time, I didn’t lean into the contact. Everything
about him felt the same—his touch still made my skin burn, and the
searing look in those steely blue eyes had my heart racing. But
absolutely everything had changed.
Everything
.

“Because. This is some seriously scary
stuff.”

“It doesn’t have to be scary. We’re the good
guys.” He rubbed his thumbs along my temples, and my hands went
still.

“We? There are more of you?”

“Of course. There’s me, Henrik—”

“Henrik, too?”

“Henrik too. Brynn. Freya.”

Holy Lord. Half of my social circle is in on
this?

“There are hundreds of us. We fight for
ære
—it’s a Norwegian word meaning—”

“I thought y’all spoke Swedish.”

“Scandiwegian, remember? Since we represent
all of the Scandinavian countries, we try to cover all of the
bases.” Tyr’s smile was tight. “And
ære
means honor; glory;
virtue; the greater good. We exist to protect the nine realms, and
we’re willing to die to do it.” He paused. “Baby, you’re turning
white.”

“Right.” With painstaking effort, I forced a
breath in and out. “Wait, gods can’t die. They’re gods. You’re
gods. Oh, God!” This was insane.
Insane.
My boyfriend was
someone straight out of a dark fairytale.

And he wasn’t Prince Charming.

“Gods can die, Mia. Being immortal does not
mean being immune to death. It means we continue living until we
are killed. We do not fall ill, or die of old age as mortals do.
Our bodies age extremely slowly.”

“How slowly?” I blurted. Something told me my
collegiate-looking boyfriend had lied to me about his age.
Among
other things…