Truly Musing
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The Samhain Gate
11/10/2008
Iris Morgan loved working late.
There was something satisfying about being able to actually sit and get some work done without her boss hovering over her shoulder, or the owners’ son hitting on her. Not out of any real attraction; he liked to make a point to hit on all the girls in the office, just to prove he could. His daddy had enough money so bringing a sexual harassment suit would have been pointless.
It was even better on a Friday. The high execs all left at noon, to play golf or tryst with their mistresses. Even the peons in Iris’ department usually managed to leave a little early. She’d been alone for more than an hour.
She sat with one leg propped up on the desk, putting client reports in alphabetical order before filing them. The only sound in the office was the rustling of her papers and the occasional hum of the air-conditioner. The cleaning crew wouldn’t be in until eight or nine. The owners didn’t want anyone accidentally noticing the entire cleaning crew was illegal immigrants, and didn’t speak two words of English. She worked almost without noticing it. After a year and a half she could alphabetize in her sleep. Iris hummed a little to help break the silence, and let her mind wander to the pint of Ben & Jerry’s and the Tivo’ed episode of Mythbusters waiting for her at home.
She finished sorting the stack; put her feet down—her left leg was going to sleep—and glanced at the clock. It was after seven.
Iris glanced at the stack of papers waiting to be filed, flexing to numb leg, and debated staying long enough to take care of them.
“Screw it.” Leaving them would give her something to do on Monday. She tidied up the stack, closed down her computer and grabbed her purse out of her desk drawer.
The hallways were deserted as she made her way out to the parking lot, but there were enough lights on to see by. Her sneakers made almost no noise on the linoleum floors. She paused by the outer door to dig in her purse for her keys. Instead of a keychain there was a small can of mace. Iris had never been bothered in the parking lot. Even muggers had better things to do on a Friday night than wait around for her. Although, deep down, she wished someone would try to grab her, so she could unload the can at him and kick him a few times while he was one the ground.
It was the dark part of twilight as she emerged, and unseasonably cool for September. A light breeze teased her hair and made her wish she’d brought a jacket. Way off in the distance there was a suggestion of thunder. She looked up, but there were only a few wisps of cloud and no moisture in the air. Iris was wondering what the sound was when there was a brilliant flash of red light as someone hit her between the eyes.
* * *
There was motion, she was sure of it. Iris couldn’t quite convince her eyes to open, but there was definitely motion. Up and down, like a boat on the sea. There was something pressing her stomach, it was quite uncomfortable and made her groggily glad she hadn’t eaten for a while. There were voices, penetrating the cotton her brain had apparently been stuffed with.
“. . .done it now. Weren’t you supposed to hit that guy in New York?”
“Just shut it, okay?” This voice was larger and quite close to her.
“What happened, just tell me that?”
“I don’t know something bit me on the ankle just as I was throwing it. Made me jerk.”
“I thought you were supposed to be almighty.”
Her weight was shifted and Iris dimly realized she was over someone’s shoulder. The shoulder shifted and there was a dull fleshy sound.
“Dammit, what was that for?”
Her weight shifted again, “You’re supposed to be the big brave hotshot and you just jumped. Don’t gimmie any more crap. Something bit me on the foot.”
“Okay, okay. You didn’t have to hit me. Just relax. We need to figure out what to do.”
“We’re going to get our butts handed to us by the Allfather, that’s what we’re going to do. Dammit, this is bad!” Iris was pulled down and dumped onto the ground, the jolt of hitting the pavement made fire shoot through her temples.
“Ggnghn.”
“You moron! She’s no good to us dead!”
“She’s no good to us anyway. Just look at her.”
“Don’t kill her.”
Iris heartily agreed, and wished her voice would work enough to tell them so.
“I’m not gonna kill her. Let’s just take her home before someone sees her. Where’s her wallet?”
“I’ve got it. Here’s the address. What about the car?”
“I’ll get it, you get the girl. She’s skinny enough you should be able to carry her.”
“Just don’t start.” Hands were on her again, “It’s not far, lets get out of here.” Iris was jerked up by the waist, her head hitting the pavement again and making everything go completely dark.
* * *
The first thing she noticed the next morning was the pain in her head, shoulders and back. Iris sat up slowly, looking around at the light streaming in her bedroom window, and pushed the sheets back. She’d been stripped to her underwear. She was stiff and sore, but couldn’t see any bruises. Standing up, she padded across the room to the closed door. What had happened last night? Iris vaguely remembered being hit on the head—and the throbbing seemed to prove it—and voices. They must have been strange muggers, to take her home and put her to bed. Maybe she’d hallucinated the whole thing. Iris always thought that was a cheap plot device used by lazy writers, but one never knew. She opened the bedroom door and walked out into the living room.
“Jee-zuz!” There was a huge man with red hair rummaging through her fridge.
He straightened up and turned; his beard was red as well. “Guess again. Where the hell you do keep your beer?”
Iris tried to ignore the clenching cold in her stomach and took a step back into the bedroom. She reached for the baseball bat she kept behind the door. “I don’t drink beer.”
His groan was the sound of ultimate despair, “This is worse than I thought. The Allfather’s going to have my ass.”
She grabbed the bat and brought it out, feeling as though she might puke, “Get out of my house!”
He sighed, pulled something out of his pocket and threw it faster than she could react. It hit the bat with enough force to wrench it out of her hands, and she heard to wood crack and splinter as it fell. Iris’ mouth dropped as the object circled around behind her and flew back to him. It grew as it raced across the room and by the time he caught it Iris could see it was a hammer, short-handled with an ornately carved bronze head.
He sighed, and stuck the handle of the hammer in his belt, “Lets not have that, okay? I don’t have the patience.”
“What? What. . .” her legs wouldn’t hold her and she slumped onto the carpet.
The red-haired man sighed, “Come on girl, pull yourself together. I don’t have time for this.”
“Who are you?”
“Get up, come over here. We’ll go get a beer and I’ll explain.”
“I. . .I. . .”
He crossed the room in two strides and grabbed her arms, yanking her off the floor. “Would you pull yourself together! I’m going to be in enough trouble without you gibbering all over the carpet!” He slapped her, not hard enough to bruise, across the face.
Iris blinked at him, her stomach settling, the adrenaline dumping out of her system and making her shake, “Who are you?”
“I am Thor, eldest son of Odin the Allfather. You are summoned into his presence. Now, will you please get up?”
Iris managed to find her feet.
“That’s a good girl. Let’s go get a beer. I think you need one and I definitely do.”
“It’s nine-thirty in the morning.”
“We can get breakfast too. Come on, we’ll take your car.”
She’d forgotten about her car, “What did you do with my car?”
“Don’t worry; I set it down out front.”
“Set it down?”
“Are you going to start repeating everything I say? Because, it’s really annoying.” He stepped away and seemed glad she managed to remain upright. “Yes. I carried it back here last night. It’s in the lot out front.”
“Carried. . .” She realized she was repeating again, and tried to form something intelligent. “Why didn’t you drive it?”
“I don’t travel that way. Can we go?”
“I. . .” she swallowed hard, at least if she pretended to play along she could get this crazy guy out of her house, “I need to get dressed.”
“Go on then.”
She went back into the bedroom, grateful her legs would carry her the two steps, and closed the door. Sitting down on the bed, Iris tried to think. This guy was obviously insane. Iris supposed she should be glad he hadn’t raped her. In fact, he didn’t seem particularly interested in her at all. So, why was he here? She desperately wished she’d taken more psyche classes in school. Play along with the delusion, wasn’t that what everyone said? Play along until she could get him out of her house, into the open, then run like hell. Her eyes drifted to the splintered remains of the baseball bat lying on the floor. How had he done that? She knew that boomerangs would curve in the air like that, but that hadn’t been a throwing stick. How had it changed size like that? She took a deep breath; it was probably just her eyes playing tricks on her. Iris shivered, she had other things to worry about; just because he wasn’t particularly interested in her now, didn’t mean he wouldn’t be later. Hadn’t there been a second voice last night? What happened to the second man?
One thing was for sure, she couldn’t sit around in her underwear all day. Sooner or later he would get impatient and Iris had no doubt he could shatter the door if he wanted to. Assuming she survived to the end of the day, Iris didn’t want to try and explain a wreaked door to the landlord. She threw on jeans and a baggy t-shirt—no point in making herself pretty for this lunatic—and ran a brush through her hair, pinning it back with a barrette. Tying her shoelaces, Iris looked at the remains of the bat again and wished she’d taken her brother’s advice and bought a gun.
She opened the door slowly; maybe he’d already gotten tired of waiting and gone to play out his delusions somewhere else. No such luck. He was checking out the titles on her bookshelf.
He turned, “Ready?”
Be confidant, most crazy people aren’t dangerous. “Yup, let’s go.”
He nodded; pleased she’d pulled herself together, and smiled. For the first time Iris noticed he wasn’t an unattractive man, just big, at least six-six or six-seven, with the sleek, bulging muscles of an Olympic athlete. She couldn’t see the hammer in his belt anymore. Maybe he’d put it back in his pocket. This was getting way too weird. Iris had to suppress a hysterical giggle as they headed out the door.
* * *
Thor took a swig out of the bottle of Shiner while Iris ordered. The waitress gave him an odd look, but wasn’t about to mess with a six-foot redhead built like a linebacker. Iris watched him for a moment as he drained the bottle and opened another. The adrenaline had gotten rid of her headache, but her shoulders and back still throbbed.
“What happened to the other guy?”
He stopped mid-motion, “What?”
“There were two of you last night, what happened to the other one?”
“Oh! That was Tyr. He’s gone ahead to Asgard to warn the Allfather of your arrival.”
He had the annoying habit of answering one question and raising three others.
“Where is Asgard?”
He set the bottle down, “Don’t you know anything? Asgard is the realm of the Aesir.” He saw her blank look and sighed, “Gods, foolish girl. You’ve been summoned to the realm of the gods.”
Iris put her head in her hands; this guy was crazier than she’d thought. This could get really bad.
He laughed, “You don’t believe me?” The waitress reappeared and put a plate of pancakes in front of her.
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Eat up, girl. We have a long way to go.”
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