“I’ve got a lot to tell you guys,” I said, still kneeling before my stunned parents. “Some of it’s going to be very hard for you to believe.”
“Harder to believe than you showing up out of the middle of nowhere?” Dad asked. “We thought you were dead.”
“I know. And for a time, that was the best for all of us. But things have changed.”
My father arched an eyebrow. “Understatement of the century, Solina.”
I rose and backed away until I stood at Baldur’s side again. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t said a word. He simply waited for the world to adjust to his presence. How many times had he made himself known to humans in all of his existence? What thoughts were running through his otherworldly head at that moment?
“What I have to tell you won’t be easy for either of us,” I said. “Not for me to explain or for you to accept.”
Mom said something incoherent, and Dad helped her stand. She leaned on her worktable beside the wedding cake she had been covering in purple roses before my sudden appearance sidelined her efforts. Several bedraggled strands of salt-and-pepper hair straggled from her chef’s toque. She breathed in and out deeply, and color returned to her cheeks in a flood. She went from ghostly pale to irate red in the passing of a few heartbeats.
“How dare you,” she said, her voice low and rough. She straightened and stomped her foot. “How dare you.”
“Mom, I—”
“Showing up out of the blue like this, like nothing happened, like you haven’t been presumed dead for weeks.” She stepped around the edge of her worktable, her hazel eyes never leaving mine, her voice cold and bitter. “How dare you put your family through that kind of pain, after what happened to your brother. Never in my life has anyone been so cruel, so thoughtless, so inconsiderate. My own daughter. My own flesh and bloo—”
“Mom!” I shouted, cutting through her rant. Not that she wasn’t right. Not that she lacked justification for the cold glint in her eyes. Not that the tears in my throat didn’t burn or the shame on my shoulders sit as heavily as a full-grown elephant. All of these things were real, but none of them mattered at that moment. I raised my hand, snapped my fingers, and a flame lit at my fingertips. I raised my other hand, and a fireball filled my palm.
My mother froze mid-step, and her mouth fell open. A rusted-hinge noise squeaked from my father’s throat, and he gaped at me.
“The fairytales are real,” I said. “So are the nightmares. You can hate me all you want, but you have to listen to me first. Your lives depend on it.”
Dad’s mouth snapped shut. He swallowed. “This isn’t happening. It can’t be.”
I raised my chin and peered down my nose at them, equally indignant for having to justify myself and ashamed for misleading them all this time. “Can you honestly tell me you never once thought there was something different about Mani and me?”
“Different how?” my mother asked. “Did we know you could... could...” She flailed her hands toward my blazing fingers.
“Before he left for Alaska, Mani sensed something was going on. Tell me you never saw shadows dance when he walked by. You didn’t notice how a space he had recently occupied felt colder than the rest of the room.”
My mom blinked and shook her head. “I-I...”
“You never gave credit to my dreams, the ones where I sometimes saw things before they happened.”
“We thought it was coincidence.”
“It was easier that way.” I released my flames, and they withdrew. “I don’t blame you. I dismissed it all, too, at first. But then Mani died, and I refused to ignore it anymore. I refused to explain it all away as coincidence.”
“What are you saying?” my father asked. His short hair, more gray than blond these days, stood on end as he dragged his fingers across his scalp. “There’s such a thing as... magic?”
“Call it what you will. There’s more to this world than we’ve been led to believe. It’s a long and complicated story, and I’ll tell you everything, but this is not a safe place or a safe time for storytelling. I need you to come with Baldur and me now. I’m going to take you somewhere safe, and then you can ask all the questions you want.”
My parents’ attention turned behind me, settling, presumably, on the giant man standing still and silent, waiting for me to make my move. “Baldur?” my father asked.
I shrugged. “Or you can call him Allfather, if you like.”
My mother wobbled again, but Dad tightened his arm around her and held her up. Perhaps they held each other up. They both looked more than a little peaked and unsteady.
“How much do you know about Norse mythology?” I asked. My father’s gaze slid to me, and his eyes narrowed. “It’s not a joke, Dad. We are standing in the presence of Baldur Odinson, Allfather of the Aesir and heir of Odin’s throne. He is here to take you to his home in the Sierra Nevadas. He calls it New Breidablick, but really, it’s just a super-nice house near Lake Tahoe. You’ll like it. The best part is the bad guys can’t get you there. And I have to tell you, there are a lot of bad guys.”
“Solina.” My mom crammed so much into that single word: disbelief, outrage, fear, worry. “How can we believe you?”
“What, the fire wasn’t enough? Do you want me to show you again?” I raised my hand, but my father waved me off.
“No. Just... just give us a minute to catch our breath.”
“We don’t have a minute, Dad.”
“She’s right,” Baldur said. He stepped forward, and my parents flinched. He cranked up his godly mojo until an ethereal aura glowed from him, and they stared at him, wide eyed. “There are other things, other… considerations that must be dealt with. Solina has many responsibilities and liabilities to contemplate beyond the two of you. My home is the safest place for you, and I must insist you pack your things and come with me now.”
Neither of my parents blinked, but my dad slowly bobbed his head.
“Baldur,” I hissed. “What are you doing?”
“Being influential.”
“Well, stop it. It’s freaking them out.”
Baldur’s glow faded, and the awe on my mom and dad’s faces diminished. Mom recovered first. “We can’t just shut the bakery down in the middle of the holiday rush. We have outstanding orders.”
“Are you for real?” I shoved a hand on my hip and gaped at her. “I just showed you I can light myself on fire. You just got a good taste of the authority and power of one of the oldest beings in existence, and you’re still protesting?” I stepped closer and leaned in until she could see the veins in my eyes and feel the heat in my breath. “A mythological wolf devoured your son.” My mom’s face tightened, and she grimaced, but I kept going, jabbing words at her like a weapon. “And another wolf is coming after me. A horrible, powerful being controls those monsters, and it’s very likely she’ll hurt you to get to me. She wants to kill me, Mother.
“So if Mary Beth Nesslestoff has to go to Wal-Mart for her wedding cake, it won’t be the end of the world, but if Helen Locke’s wolf kills me, it most certainly will be the end of the world. And I’m not being hyperbolic.”
“Well,” she said, breathless and blinking. “Well...”
