Ellie, I thought. Where did she go? She’d run away. And…
She’d kissed me. And now Lennart’s elf-ness interacted with her concealments and I didn’t know what do to.
She’d kissed me.
“You look like you saw a ghost,” Lennart said. He peered at the church behind us. “Not a literal ghost, I hope.”
My girlfriend had just vanished again and he wanted to talk about ghosts? Once again, no words about enchantments, or Ellie, or ghosts left my throat.
I swore under my breath and swiped open my phone.
“Why don’t you come in.” Lennart pointed over his shoulder. “You can look at your messages while I get your satchel.”
I’m not looking at messages, I thought. I tried to tap in notes about Ellie, but I couldn’t. No symbol on my phone looked like a symbol, even though they did. Nothing made sense, the way typing and reading and words make no sense in dreams.
I swore again and tucked my phone into my pocket.
“Fine,” I said. Hopefully I’d remember enough once I was out of Lennart’s orbit to add notes to my list. But…
She needed a phone. Chihiro said to associate memories tangentially. “How many lines does your phone plan have?” I asked.
Lennart shrugged. “Five, I think. Why?”
How was I supposed to answer that question? My invisible girlfriend needs a means of communication? “Ghosts,” I said.
The elf standing next to me swiveled his head as if looking for a literal phantom reason for my question. “So you’re adding a ghost to your plan?”
I wasn’t the only person in Alfheim with a terrible poker face. Lennart looked as if he was about call Arne and ask his king to take me away. “Frank, you’re not making sense,” he said.
“Sorry,” I answered. “My satchel’s ready?” I nodded toward Raven’s Gaze. Maybe I could distract him with an enchanted container for Rose’s notebook.
The incredulous look didn’t fade. “Are you sure you’re all right?” He moved his hands through the space around my shoulders and chest as if checking for wounds in my personal magical space.
“I’m fine, Lennart,” I said as I walked toward the restaurant.
He clearly did not believe me. He walked at my side, but his magic danced between the two of us.
I’d freaked out a friend because I literally could not tell him a truth I wanted to share. “I saw something over there.” I pointed over my shoulder at the church. “And I went to look.”
He looked around again. “What did you see?”
Bjorn would have walked away by now. Arne would have changed the subject. Dag would have ignored the entire situation. “A friend,” I said.
Lennart blinked as if momentarily confused, and the closing off happened. “Marcus Aurelius?” he asked.
But not a complete closing off. “What do you think happened to him?” I asked.
Lennart thought for a second. His stormy magic reached upward as if asking the sky a question, then settled onto his being. He grinned and squeezed my shoulder. “Your dog is fine.” He thought for a second. “He’s a special hound who will help us all one day.”
This was the closest I’d gotten an elf to talking about Ellie. It wasn’t much, but it felt important.
Lennart nodded knowingly, then leaned toward me. “Bjorn would be inconsolable if one of his cats ran away.”
I had a sudden flash of the bear-like thunder elf Bjorn Thorsson filling the entire town with rolling waves of magic as he searched under every porch and in every bush for one of his fifteen-pound balls of fluff.
If I could send out magic like that to overcome Ellie’s enchantments, I would.
“Yeah,” I said.
We stood together for a moment under the warm afternoon sun, two large men who weren’t always at their best among people but who fully understood the magic of an animal companion.
Lennart smiled. “Come! I have someone you should meet.” He pulled me toward Raven’s Gaze.
Now that the nights were getting colder, the staff of the restaurant had put away about half the normal outdoor seating, and only five tables framed the entrance. The loud kids from the parking lot had spread out around three, and were laughing and leaning against each other as they thumbed through screens on their phones.
We moved toward the break between the buildings and the end-of-season vegetables in the huge gardens, toward the loft at the back of the brewery where Bjorn and Lennart lived.
Lennart, still smiling, stopped under one of the big red oak trees in front of the brewery and pointed up at the branches. “Take a look.”
Two ravens sat in the tree. They were bigger than most of the ravens that nested around the lakes, and seemed to be less annoyed by humans than most other corvids.
The smaller of the two watched me from its sheltered spot inside the rustling, leathery, autumn leaves of the giant oak. It bopped a few times and trilled in my general direction.
The larger one clucked as if reprimanding its partner for paying attention to a person.
“Are you two Huginn and Muninn?” Perhaps Bjorn had brought them in for ambiance. Or perhaps they were scouts. When I was in Las Vegas, I had suggested to the World Raven that she should come by and check out the brewery.
Both birds honked, and the bigger one hopped down a branch to get a better look at me. I held out my arm. Why, I didn’t know. It just seemed the correct thing to do.
The big one swooped down and landed on my bicep, then hopped up to my shoulder.
“Well, hello,” I said. Magic danced across his plumage, and when he shook, greens, blues, and purples rose like sparks before settling again onto his feathers.
He clucked, then whistled a little tune, and the smaller one dropped down to the lowest branch to watch.
Raven’s Gaze Brewery and Pub had its own pair of
