“Did Raven send you?” I asked.
Lennart held out his arm and the big raven flapped over to his bracer. “I’ve been wondering that myself,” he said.
His magic snapped and sparked like a summer storm complete with eddies and clouds. He controlled it, though, and channeled it into strong, sturdy spells that might not be delicate, but which stood against most everything.
“They showed up a few days ago,” Lennart said. “This is Ross.” Lennart stroked the raven’s head. “He’s friendlier than Betsy up there.” He nodded toward the smaller raven still in the tree.
Betsy and Ross. I chuckled. “Their magic looks like a dusting on their feathers,” I said.
Lennart clucked at Ross and moved his arm so that the big bird would return to the tree. Then he whistled, and Betsy flew down.
The birds liked him, obviously, so I doubted we were looking at dark magic.
He rubbed Betsy’s head. “The names are temporary, aren’t they, darling?”
Betsy clucked.
“I’ll figure out who you really are soon enough.” Lennart kissed the raven, then shooed her back to the tree. “The mundanes have realized we have two new employees.” He nodded to the birds. “Bjorn expects a news crew from The Cities to show up before Samhain.” He frowned. “He likes the idea. For the publicity.” Lennart did not want mundanes with cameras hanging around. “How was the re-wedding?” he asked.
I still looked like a groomsman, even with the hole in my pants. “Arne and Dag got a bouncy castle for the kids,” I said.
Lennart laughed. “I take it you did not have time to romp inside the inflated vinyl balloon of doom.”
“No,” I said. Not that I would have.
He watched the ravens groom each other up in the branches. “Every child in Alfheim loves you,” he said offhandedly.
Lennart often uttered random sentences, but “every child” loving me seemed… odd.
“Akeyla have fun?” he asked.
“Other than that photographer interrupting, I think so.” He’d shown up here, too. “He was over by the church, by the way. The photographer.” I wanted to tell Lennart about Ellie hiding me, and the man’s attitude, but once again, not much would come out. “I saw his shadow again.” I hadn’t, but it got the idea across. “He’s carrying a hidden magic of some kind.”
Lennart’s eyes narrowed. “He got away from you?” He peered up at my face as if looking for signs of a magical infestation. “Is that why you were talking about ghosts?” He stepped back and tapped his fingers on his thigh.
A sigil formed. “There was magic, alright, even if you couldn’t see it,” he said.
Lennart was making several assumptions about what happened. Some were wrong, some were close enough, and they did get him to the correct place. “Raven’s Gaze has security cameras, correct?”
“Of course.”
“He didn’t do anything other than be annoying,” I said. “He’s shown up twice and been a thorn. No overt bad behavior.” What were we supposed to do? We had an obnoxious visitor with shadowy magic.
Alfheim had what Ed would call a “person of interest” who hadn’t done anything bad but exasperated law enforcement anyway.
Lennart thought for a moment. His eyes narrowed again. “I’ll check the church when we’re done.” He turned back toward the loft, and his body subtly stiffened and he changed the subject. “Did Maura enjoy the wedding?” He continued to look away.
I had no idea he held an interest in Maura. “She and all the bridesmaids were as lovely as you would expect,” I said.
He rubbed at the back of his Bulldogs cap. “Good, good,” he said.
His attraction to Maura danced through his magic and screamed out to the world as loudly as any exhibited by the teenagers jabbering at the tables behind us. “We all missed you at the wedding,” I said.
He patted his ear to remind me that glamouring around mundanes wasn’t easy for him. Then he grinned and nodded toward the brewery building. “Come. I’ve taken good care of Rose’s notebook for you.” With that, he walked toward the loft behind the buildings.
I looked up at Betsy and Ross. “Tell Raven if she wants to get a burger, I’ll make reservations.” I pointed at the eatery.
Betsy bobbed her head. Ross fluttered his wings and groomed his tail. Then they both flew higher into the tree.
Magical or not, they were still ravens. I grinned and followed Lennart.
He pushed open the wide door leading into the living quarters and ushered me inside. The UMD hat sailed toward a side table and coat rack just to our left, and the door banged shut behind us.
Lennart dropped all pretense of glamouring. His tall ears fully manifested, as did the intricate, coiling tattoos covering his neck, jaw, and the naked curve of his scalp.
Magic formed storm clouds around his body, and for a second, I wondered if it would condense out as rain. It didn’t, though, but kept with its roiling and boiling, as one would expect from a thunder god’s aspect.
Bjorn’s magic wasn’t nearly as chaotic as Lennart’s. Bjorn had a calmness to him one would not normally attribute to Thor. His magic drew people in, patted them on the back, and offered them revelry and entertainment.
The loft mirrored their dichotomy. The ageless tension between clutter and cleanliness fought each other like warriors of Valhalla, from the spotless desk in one corner to the couch covered in a raucous heap of distinctly patterned, handmade throws. Almost every surface had at least one potted plant. Sun streamed in from the high windows. A woodsy scent, complete with the higher humidity that came with so much foliage, hung evenly in the air.
The loft was a modern elf’s paradise.
Summer Sassafras—one of Bjorn’s queen Norwegian Forest cats—sashayed out of the sunroom and right up to my ankles. She meowed and rubbed, but batted away my hand when I tried to pet her fluffy grey and white head.
“Is Mr. Mole Rat bothering you again?” Lennart picked her up and scratched her neck. “I keep telling Bjorn we need to get that cat fixed or
