My anger cooled quickly enough. Thruor’s place was near Georgetown, and I wandered past the alternative stores, sure nobody was paying any huge attention to me.

I did need to know, now. I definitely planned on asking Thruor. I had a feeling she might tell me the truth, if I asked her outright, if I made it clear that I already suspected.

Maybe even more of the truth than I’d worked out. I looked down at my hands.

A woman with Aesir blood. And Jotun blood. It was rather obvious and I knew the only reason I hadn’t worked it out before was because I simply hadn’t wanted to.

I’d wanted to stay in ignorance longer. The one person who could stop Ragnarok. A princess.

Everything was crashing down on me and I wanted to go back to being Jane. Right back to being her, to being just a girl, a nobody with no past. Maybe I’d even asked for this.

No. At least not outright, not like that. The identity of the person who had shot Mr. Clem faded next to my own. I changed course, walked down to the C&O Canal. The mules were gone for the season. They pulled the boats in the summer. I envisioned them with their long ears drooping slightly as the barge floated behind them. It helped, somehow.

You can’t stop thinking about something, but resolutely thinking about something else? That definitely helps. It was a good something else to think about, too. Cute floppy eared mules.

Except then I remembered Loki’s other offspring. I shook my head. This was ridiculous, I needed to clear my thoughts.

No.

I needed to know. I needed to know badly. I looked upwards. “No ravens when I actually need them.”

Nope. Not so much as a black feather. Or maybe they’d all decided to leave me alone to work this out.

Or maybe Odin’s one eye was focused somewhere else right now. Did I talk to Kanesha?

Kanesha knew.

I was suddenly sure of that. She knew and had been trying to work out how to bring it up, or she was afraid she was wrong. Or, even more likely, afraid she was right. I would be afraid I was right in the same circumstance.

I focused on the mules again. Harmless, cute mules, pulling a barge along the river. Built the image of it in my mind until it almost seemed like everyone else could see it.

Maybe they could, for a moment, but it did help. It helped me to relax, to get my breathing back on track. Then I let the image go and looked at the actual, real canal.

The sky above was grey with the threat of rain. Not snow, surely. The winters here seldom brought very much of that. Well, last year had been an epic exception…most of which I didn’t remember.

And besides, I had a feeling I was used to worse winters than this. But…

It was almost Thanksgiving and suddenly all of my thoughts crystalized. I was going to find him and I was going to get the truth out of him.
Then I was dang well going to get a Thanksgiving dinner.