Gods And Monsters

Chapter Fifteen:

While Hel rested on the sofa, Spike remained outside on the back porch.

The sun had yet to rise, but the sky had lightened. Hues of indigo, dark violet, and iris blue warmed the moody blackness somewhat. He was safe from the scorching daylight for at least a couple more hours.

With the sharp click of a rotating gear, the tiniest flicker of a flame sparked to life and ignited the tip of his cigarette. An amber glow threw dancing shadows across the angular definition of his pale face. The bubble of soft light vanished, consumed by the grey darkness of pre-dawn, and he took a drag.

Hinges creaked behind him as the back door was pushed open. Her footfall echoed off the wooden porch planks as she approached him and sat on the first step down to the yard.

He joined her, tossing the coattail of his black leather duster behind him, and returned the lighter to his inside coat pocket.

She sent him a sidelong look of bemusement, eyebrows furrowed, but said nothing.

He lowered the butt, exhaling a draft of pale grey smoke, and caught her stare. A timid smile crinkled the corners of his steely blue eyes. "I know, I know, 'these things'll kill me'."

She smiled fleetingly, and Spike counted it as a personal victory to have amused her, even if for only for a moment.

"Well, they can bloody-well try." He chuckled, taking another puff.

As Hel turned her head to face him, her ethereal beauty struck him anew. The angle of her cheekbones, the definition of her jawline, and the elegant slope of her small nose were highlighted by the silvery rays of moonlight cast across the creamy porcelain of her skin. Curls of ebony tumbled to her waist.

Her mismatching eyes were anything but ordinary. There was a deep loneliness in them, and a hardness to the set of her jaw. She was a warrior queen, brutally regal and elegance personified.

His eyes dropped to the supple fullness of her pink lips, lingering a moment before he tore them away.

As he gazed into the bushes that bordered the lawn, the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. A shiver slithered up his spine, and he felt the distinct sensation of being watched.

He faced her. "Do you feel that too?"

She met his eyes. "Feel what?"

"A chill up your spine."

"Yes."

The foliage rustled, dead leaves crunched, and twigs snapped loudly.

Simultaneously, they returned their attention to the outskirts of the yard.

"People talk about premonition as if it's something strange." Remarked Hel calmly. "It isn't. It's just remembering in the wrong direction."

A massive hunk of a man stepped through the bushes and into view. His wheat-blond hair was swept back from his wide forehead and fell to the base of his neck. He was built like a mountain of muscle, stacked with layers of armour.

The leather-wrapped handle ofMjolnir was gripped by his right hand. His huge arms were dressed in scales of silver metal, and circular disks of the same material were secured onto his chest plate. The vambraces on his forearms were forged from a darker metal.

Black leather pants were fitted onto his strong legs, tucked into tall boots, and a scarlet cape hung from his broad shoulders. A scruff of facial hair grew along his jaw and upper lip.

His eyes, a bright aquamarine blue, landed upon a throughly confused Spike first, then drifted. They locked onto her, and she stood, but her expression of apathy did not shift.

"Thor."

"Hela." He nodded solemnly to her in acknowledgment.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" She inquired, lips curling in a forced, sardonic smile. Her words were bitter and falsely sweetened, but the undercurrent of contempt in her voice was impossible to miss.

"Does one require a reason to visit their family?" His response was grave, incendiary.

Hel crossed her arms over her chest, regarding him with disdain. "I am no fool, Thor." She quipped.

"I am aware of that fact, I can assure you."

"I should hope so." Scornful arrogance glinted in her eyes.

"Underestimating you is a mistake I am unlikely to make a second time, Hela." His stare was intimidating, pinning her to the spot, but she was unperturbed.

Her smirk was withering as she held her ground. "I do so love our little talks." She taunted.

"I only wish I could say the same." Thor countered, deadpan.

Her right eyebrow arched flippantly. "Now then, what brings the golden boy prince to Midgard?"

His answer was somber. "Your father does."

"Does he? Whatever for?"

"He has been interfering with mortal affairs."

"That hardly warrants surprise." She tilted her head ever-so slightly off to one side, eyes narrowed curiously. "What aren't you telling me?"

Not saying a word, he held her stare in silence.

He was untrusting of her, and for very good reason. She had never been one for complete honesty, which was most definitely a trait inherited from her infamous father. Her silver-tongue and sharp wit were well-known by all who knew her.

Hel feigned being wounded by his suspicion of her and sighed woefully. "How disappointing." Turning her back on him, she strode up the porch steps.

With her fingers grasping the handle, she pulled open the back door and paused at the threshold. "I wish you luck on your most noble quest, Thor." She tossed the reply over her shoulder dismissively, then disappeared inside the house.

The awkwardness Spike felt was unprecedented, and he pursed his lips, fumbling for something to break the tension. His eyes found the massive block of a hammer dangling from Thor's hand.

"Nice hammer." He blurted.

Thor glanced down at Mjolnir, then back up at Spike blankly.