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Chapter Four

S itting in her favorite chaise, one foot tucked under her and the toes of the other tapping the granite patio stones to the lovely tune filling her garden, Hel surveyed her favorite place and forced a smile.

Lifting her hand to her forehead, she shielded her eyes from the Magical sunlight she’d willed into existence the moment she’d placed the first seeds into the dark, rich soil.

Seeing that everything was as it should be, she let her head fall back until it touched the top of the soft beige cushion with beautifully had drawn roses.

Squinting, she saw her Ravens flitting to and fro enjoying the Enchanted Spring day.

It did her heart good to see them having fun.

It even almost raised her spirits… just almost.

With a sarcastic snort and the tiniest shrug, she dropped her hand into her lap and let her eyes slide shut. Willing the warmth on her face and the heavenly scent of roses to clear her mind, she made it about three seconds before huffing out an exasperated breath.

It was no use. She knew the Valkyrie and her Familiar were just outside the gates of Castle Niflheim. It was just a matter of minutes before Liv was on the porch, knocking on the door and ringing the bell.

Maybe she could get away. The second the thought came to life, Hel’s keen mind went to work. It was all right there, in perfect detail, right down to the swish of her skirts as she whipped around corners.

Up on her feet, she could be out of the garden, down the hall, and through the breezeway in less than a second.

She’d slide her feet into the ballet slippers always at the ready in the mudroom, then skip down the steps and out the back door that opened to the entrance of what had once upon a time been the root cellar.

Slipping through one of her private tunnels, she’d traverse the narrow curves with ease.

After all, she’d built them herself and knew each dip and corner like the back of her hand.

Down three steps then up four, she’d pop into Garmr’s Grog House without one twinkle of Magic for anyone to follow.

She’d done it hundreds of times–sometimes backward and sometimes with her eyes closed. She’d even raced Garmr a time or two and laughed at his outrage when she’d beat him by more than ten seconds.

Smiling despite how she felt, the goddess chuckled, “I do so love that Wolfman. He knows just the right thing to say even when no words need to be spoken. Out of everyone I know, he is one of the very few who can always make me laugh.” Nodding, she added, “He’s a million times more like a brother than my actual ones ever thought about being. ”

And she meant every word. It didn’t matter that no one but her roses, her Ravens, and Crays could hear her. The truth was the truth and Garmr was a true friend. He had taken the time to get to know Hel on a deep personal level usually reserved for those with whom a person shared blood.

“Well, not the ones on my family tree,” she scoffed.

“Nope, those boneheads have never been there for me. But Garmr, well, we’ve shared the good times and the bad…

” She stopped as visions of the moment she’d confirmed the Wolfman had a good soul came to life.

He’d suffered at the hands of the ignorant, and Hel could relate.

Thankfully, Hel was a goddess with a Realm all her own and could escape her tormentors. Unfortunately, it had taken the Wolfman longer to find his place in the universe and secure something he could call his own.

Before that, Garmr had been dealt a shit hand in the game of life.

Just because tufts of deep crimson fur highlighted his ebony pelt, everyone swore he’d been cursed to wear the blood of those he’d slain, tortured, killed and even eaten for the rest of forever.

Of course, every word of those rumors was all a lie.

First of all, he’d never eaten any of his enemies. Secondly, anyone who died had been a truly dangerous enemy of the Norse Pantheon. As for torture, well, she knew there was no way he’d ever done any of that.

But people could be cruel. And the Great Goddess knew how spiteful a woman scorned could be, especially one who’d had their amorous affections refused.

Why did people always believe the person hurling unfounded accusations and not the innocent victim? Why was it so easy to believe the worst about damned near everything? Where did the concept of innocent until proven guilty go?

And there was no doubt in Hel’s mind that Garmr was innocent on all counts.

The sorrow, rage, and unmitigated horror had rolled off him in heavy waves when she’d answered the knock on her door all those centuries ago. The agonizing combination of fear and revulsion in his eyes nearly drove her to her knees.

Not only was he distraught, but the poor Wolfman was so embarrassed about the whole mess that it had taken her over an hour to get the full story. Every word that fell from his muzzle was painful and heart wrenching. She knew beyond all doubt that he was telling the truth.

Then Hel had to do the hardest thing. She had to summon all her considerable control, calm her fiery temper, and take Garmr’s adamant pleas to heart.

She had to force herself to stay where she was and not to Magick herself to the horrible bitch’s hovel, beat on the front door, and snatch the woman bald when she answered.

It didn’t matter that harming a human would’ve gotten her in the hottest of water with Odin, that she would’ve been punished in the harshest ways and used as an example and reminder to all the gods and goddesses what would happen if you defied the All Father.

She’d been there before and would undoubtedly be there again.

Defending those she loved was something she’d always taken seriously.

“And that’s because it’s better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission,” she mumbled under her breath. “Another of my favorite human sayings.”

The truth of those words was clear and concise. The meaning was undeniable. She loved that Wolfman like a brother and could not stand that he’d been hurt in such a heinous and horrible way.

Asking the same question for at least the millionth time, she ground out through gritted teeth, “Why do people have to be so cruel? So heartless? So selfish, self-centered and entitled?” Inhaling then immediately exhaling, she searched for the calm that had eluded her for months.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, it came.

She felt a little better. However, the words continued to flow like the water in the fountain in the middle of her garden.

“Why did that ‘woman’ think she could talk to such a kind hearted person as if he was nothing more than vermin? Was it really because of how he looked?”

Huffing out an exasperated breath, she added with a grumble, “I would’ve done anything to take away Garmr’s pain–that day and every other. I know what a toll it takes on a person’s soul. I would do anything to save another that pain.”

Opening her eyes as she lifted her head, Hel met the gaze of the largest male Raven, the one she believed to be the Leader of the Congress. There was a strength, a wisdom behind those onyx eyes that she’d come to count on.

“You know, don’t you?” The goddess nodded. “You know how much I wish no one ever had to suffer the humiliation and embarrassment that the cruel words of others cause.”

Answering with a deep-throated, gurgling croak, the Raven scratched his claws along the rim of the vase of the stone statue he was perched upon, and added a loud, “Kraaaa,” before flapping his wings and flying away.

“I agree, my friend,” Hel murmured, watching the elegant spread of the Raven’s wings as he glided on the Magical breeze.

Unable to stop her train of thought, she couldn’t help but wonder aloud, “When did common courtesy and respect for others go out the window? Oh, and don’t some of the humans, at the least the descent ones, believe that if you don’t have something nice to say you just be quiet?”

Her thoughts coming faster and faster, it became almost impossible for her to verbalize them. But that didn’t slow her mind. Oh, no, it continued to rant and rave at the highest of speeds. The only good thing was the fact that it cleared away some of the clutter.

Why were hateful words easier to say than kind ones?

Was there ever a time when someone who was different, special, or unique was not ridiculed and scorned?

She’d been alive for so very many centuries and had seen, and experienced firsthand, the cruelest and most foul way living beings were treated by their peers. It was despicable.

And it was everywhere, even in the Pantheons of gods and goddesses.

“And to know that Garmr went through such horrible treatment and still wanted me to stand down and do nothing…” She sighed and shook her head.

“Well, I did as he asked,” the goddess murmured.

“I stayed right here. I sat right on this very chaise and did nothing but hold his hand and listen.” With a shrug and the slightest lift of the corner of her mouth on her live side, she added, “Well, I did a little more than that. I called my buddy, Fate who called her Cousin, Prue.”

Thinking about the Omnipotent Being known as Prudence, with her long platinum hair and swirling deep purple eyes gave the goddess’s spirits another tiny boost. Knowing the One in charge of helping every living being make wise decisions and take calculated risks that more times than not ended in the positive results most people thought of as Luck definitely came in handy–especially when that Omnipotent Being owed you about a hundred favors.