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Racing around a huge boulder, I saw a massive opening off in the distance and just knew that’s where I was headed. Sure enough, no sooner had I said,“Lucy’s in that cave,”to Sith than the Enchantment of our Mating Bond whizzed to the right and disappeared into the darkness.
Pulling out all the stops, I flew down the mountain and through the mouth of the cave in a flash. Dashing through the darkness, I followed the Mating Bond burning brightly in my soul, opened my mind, and mentally called,“Lucy! Lucy, it’s me, Noel. I'm here. I'm coming. Hold on, mo Charaid? I’m coming to get….”
But that was as far as I got before the walls shook, the ground beneath my feet quaked, and rocks and dust fell from overhead. Coming to a screeching halt, I slapped the wall to stay upright and was almost blown away as a deep, angry voice roared, "Give me the Brown Witch, Mother!" Give her to me right now, or I will bring this whole mountain down!"
5
“What the hell did he just say?”Ginger mentally snarled.“Did that little brat just say that Gryla promised you to him? She can’t….”
“Shhhhh,”I spat.“Let me listen.”
"Why, I never,"she huffed.“You need to….”
“Shut. Up. Ginger.”
Still on my knees, I blinked away the spots before my eyes and just barely held back my gasp when I laid eyes on the 'child' who was yelling at his mother, the Icelandic Christmas Witch. Of course, I'd heard stories about the Yule Lads – all thirteen of Gryla's sons – but just like the Holiday Enchantress of Legend, the child – and I say that with all the sarcasm I can muster, and that's A LOT - losing his cool looked nothing like I'd been told.
You see, the Yule Lads lived in the mountains with their mother in a castle only a few had ever seen. All the tales said they looked like gangly Trolls with long, fluffy white beards and no torsos. It described their clothing as tattered red and white and traditionally Icelandic. That meant they were in woolen breeches, a double-buttoned vest, and a double-buttoned jacket called Freyja. (That is to say, it's a robe-style coat made of fluffy wool with leather at the collar and cuffs. Yes, I looked it up to be sure because I just couldn't remember the last time I heard the story.)
I always imagined they resembled a cross between an Octopus and a Dwarf that had been stretched – but only had two tentacles, not eight – and had hands with creepy, skeletal fingers. My imagination had been wrong – utterly wrong.
There wasn't a stitch of red or white wool to be seen. Oh, hell, no, he was in black, brown, and white fur draped over one of his broad shoulders, covering half of his impressive chest, and held tight at his slim waist with a stiff leather belt. His body-hugging leather pants clung to the muscles in his legs in all the right way, and his knee-high boots were embellished with Icelandic symbols of protection in brilliant bronze.
Not only was he tall and muscular, but his long blond hair looked windblown and perfectly complemented his skin, which was the color of the inside of a perfectly ripe avocado. I swear, he reminded me of all the swimmers I'd drooled over when watching the Olympics with my cousins – but he was in pelts and leather, not a little Speedo, and resembled a good-looking cousin twice removed from Shrek's family. With my gaze popping back to his face, I damn near panted. His features were nothing short of breathtaking, and I could not take my eyes off his perfectly puffy lips, expertly outlined by his expertly coiffed golden beard and mustache.
Sue me, I like to look at pretty things, and this man was pretty – at least on the outside - no matter the color of his skin. Of course, my mother would say, 'Pretty is as pretty does,' and I was just about to be forced to admit that she was right –dammit.
Now, I've never cared if a man had facial hair, but in the case of the Yule Lad standing a few feet away, I definitely favored all those tawny whiskers. Sadly, he opened his mouth, and all I saw was a spoiled brat. Talk about a waste of good looks and muscles. (Mom was so right – ugh!)
“Mother,” he whined. “Giveherto me. Youpromised.” Lifting his hands, Magic snapped, crackled, and popped in every direction as he threatened, "I'll tear this whole mountain down. I'll leave a pile of rubble for your blasted Vikings to come home to. You know I will. And I know that you had them leave. You always liked them better than me." He inhaled deeply, then yelled even louder with a nasal tone that made my ears ring. "She's mine! She's mine! SHE IS MINE!"
Holding her hands out in front with the palms up, Gryla pleaded, "Please listen to me, Thor. I never said that. I couldn't have said that. I told you this. We talked about it yesterday. It wasn't me. I wasn't there. I was in the village. It was Christmas Eve, and your father was nowhere to be found. I had to do all the preparations for midnight by myself." She leaned forward and reached for her son. "You know where I was. How could I have been in two places at once?"
“Did she just call him Thor?”Ginger whispered directly into my mind.“I thought….”
“And you were right. That idiot throwing a temper tantrum is not a Norse God. His name is actually Thvorusleikir. He is one of Gryla’s sons - the third or fourth Yule Lad. I can’t remember the order and really couldn’t give less of a damn.”
“Thank the Great….”
"No," He frantically shook his head, cutting off whatever Ginger was about to say. "You cannot lie to me. You were at the castle. I saw you with my own eyes. We all did. It was you. We were waiting for you. You sent a message and told us to meet you. You said you had a surprise for us. Told us to be there at precisely eleven-thirty."
“No,” Gryla pleaded. “It was not me. Why would I lie to you? What would be the purpose? Think, Son. You know where I was. Where I always am that time of year.”
“LAIR! It. Was. You.”
Every word he wailed was punctuated with a bolt of Magic that struck the ground, forcing his mother to take a backward step. “You are lying. You were there. Your big surprise was to tell me that I could have Lucy Brown. You even promised. You told me that she would be my Mate. You said all I had to do was get to her before that fucking Archer Dragon. You said that as long as I kissed her before he did, she would be mine.”
"No, Thor. No, I didn't. That's not how things work in their world. The Universe had a plan. Mates are created for one another. I swear, it wasn't…."
Another blast of powerful Mysticism had Gryla jumping out of the way so quickly that her back hit the stone behind her. Looking more than a little stunned, I saw the desperation in her eyes at the same time that Ginger asked,“Why the hell isn’t she putting him in his place? She is his mother. Surely, she’s Magically spanked his ass innumerable times over the years. She should….”
Pointing my right index finger at the tip of her nose where it peered over my shoulder, I flicked it as I whispered,“Pop.”When the teeniest, tiniest fizzled-out spark of nothing more than my need to have my Magic back poofed out worse than the tailpipe of Granny Maybelle Brown’s WWII Harley Davidson WLA, complete with sidecar and ana-oooooooo-gahhorn that could be heard across five counties, through the Swamp, and the way to my friends in Tallulu Parish, I arched a single eyebrow.
As my Familiar’s eyes got as big as saucers and her mouth made a perfect circle, she breathed,“Oh, yeah, I forgot. No Magic.”Instantly schooling her features, Ginger returned to her sassy self, adding,“And you think Gryla’s locked down too. How could that…?”
"Thor! Stop it!" The Legendary Witch demanded, making it impossible for me to hear Ginger's question. "Stop this right now! Don't make me call your father. I have never lied to you and am not about to start now."
Oh, shit, she was threatening to call in the big guns. At least, the stories I’d been told about Leppalúði said he was a ginormous Troll with untold Mysticism given to him by the Iron Witch, who is said to sit on the left hand of Mother Nature. Of course, I doubted whether any of that was factual. After all, I was looking at two Beings who definitely did not look like the tales of my youth. It was time to take everything I knew with a grain of salt.
