“You guys are…”
“Too nice for demons?” I grinned. “She’s a frost giant. And the other one is a valkyrie.”
He looked at Thruor dubiously. “I don’t want to end up in Valhalla.”
She laughed. “Not to your taste, eh, all the drinking and fighting?” She grinned at me.
He looked down. “Uh…”
“You aren’t going the right way about going to Heaven if that’s your goal.”
Thruor wrinkled her nose. “Boring.”
Angrboda elbowed her before I could, then we both laughed.
“I wonder if Sarael’s around. He might be able to convince the kid that he’s not being the smartest here.”
“Who’s Sarael?” he finally asked.
“An angel I know,” I told him, bluntly. “An unusual one. He has a sense of humor.”
“…they generally don’t?”
“Angels,” Thruor explained. “Tend to take themselves very seriously. The thing is, kid, every myth is real, every story is true. Not literal, mind, but true.”
He frowned. “But…”
“That doesn’t mean any of us want or need you to worship us as well as the God you’ve chosen. But we’re real, and not all of us are evil. And if you don’t start getting your mind around that, you’ll be dead.”
“And?” he said, defiant for a moment.
“And you might find he’s not as happy with you as you think. If nothing else, no God is happy with a follower who gets himself stupidly killed.”
That seemed to get through to him. I headed to find Thruor’s medical stuff – the kid was going to need multiple ice packs, at the very least. Maybe we could recruit him once we had his head on straight. I came back with those and a couple of painkillers. “Aspirin or tylenol?”
I offered him the bottle and a glass of water. He took two. “So…what are you?” He looked right at me.
“I’m Loki’s daughter.”
He almost choked on the pill. “And you’re trying to tell me you’re not…”
“I’ve met demons. My father is quite different, although you probably don’t want to get on his bad side.”
“He might throw mistletoe at me or whatever.”
“Nah, he’s more likely to find some way to sneak hot pepper in your lunch.”
From the look on his face that was a worse fate. Maybe I should get him some cayenne brownies. Just to be evil.
Or at least to be the trickster’s daughter.
“Okay. I…” He sighed. “How do I tell?”
“Usually evil entities are actually doing evil things. And I know somebody who can help you identify demons.”
“You can’t help?” He was still eyeing me warily.
“I can’t teach you the way I do it. It’s innate.”
Thruor was already on the phone. I knew exactly who she was calling.