All he had to do was give up. He wouldn’t. I couldn’t understand it, really. He could, for one thing, have all of the mortal women he wanted.

They wouldn’t even have to know. But he was the way he was, I reckoned, and he wasn’t going to change.

But he was going to find out who Monica was. Or I was. I wasn’t sure I’d do anything about it. Maybe she didn’t even know she was being protected, as Loki had implied.

I was still sore about the way he’d worded that. But if it was protection, why couldn’t I sense it?

Because it was somebody very good at hiding what they did. Which gave me an angle. It was somebody subtle, somebody who liked to keep things on the down low.

It was, therefore, not Thor, Tyr, or anyone remotely similar.

And there was one name that jumped to mind. Somebody known for being subtle, somebody who had a motivation to keep Tyz’vel away from me and somebody who was absolutely way out of my league.
This time I was sure it was him. “Thank you,” I murmured.

I got the faintest impression of raven wings. “Should I tell her?”

No. That was clear. Not to tell her. Yet.

I got it immediately. She was supposed to work things out for herself. But wasn’t she also supposed to have the choice?

Sometimes, I suddenly knew, people had already made the choice. I smiled a little bit. And I had a feeling I had passed some kind of test – that he wanted me to also work things out for myself. To keep in practice on solving mysteries no doubt.

But I did wonder what he wanted with Monica. Other than just to troll Tyz’vel? No. He had something else in mind and that had just been a sideline.

I had a shoot scheduled with her that weekend. It would be hard not to tell her what was going on, but I knew I could do it. Besides, it would, I thought, rather be a spoiler if he had something in mind for her.

Then again, Odin was probably a tough person to work for. The valkyries were one thing, but from what I’d seen of him? He would have high expectations.
And maybe I was working for him myself. Yes, I was. Realistically. He was the boss, and regardless of who I was, I acknowledged that.

Instead of calling Monica, thus, I headed home. As I did so, I felt the faintest hint of a presence of fire. I stopped, looked around.

No sign of any fire giants. No sign of Surtur. But I felt what was inside me respond to it. I liked fire. I couldn’t help it.

Maybe I should ask Odin about that.

Maybe I’d even get a straight answer, as unlikely as it seemed.