give it to whoever she wanted me to, even if it was my favorite band shirt. For Miri, I’d do anything. Even walk through Hell. Even go there on purpose to help save her best friend if she asked me.
Ten minutes later, a very uncomfortable-looking Horonius sat beside me on the coffee table, dressed in my jeans and my vintage straight-from-their-last-concert Grateful Dead shirt. Miri sat across from us, wearing a very satisfied smile. Her bright eyes gleamed at me and I decided that my Offspring shirt had suddenly become my favorite.
“So what’s the deal?” Miri asked. “What are you, Horonius? And what are you guys doing here? And what does it all have to do with my dream?” She delivered her questions rapid-fire style and left Horonius looking a little stunned. It had no effect on me. Except that I beamed at her like the love-sick idiot I was.
Horonius looked as if he might not ever speak again. Like maybe being a dog was better than wearing weird clothes and answering hard questions. But li’Morl didn’t have that problem. He answered all her questions without batting an eye.
“The deal is,” li’Morl seemed amused at Miri’s choice of words, “we’re going to rescue Desolation. Horonius is a Hound of Hel—not the “hounds of hell” you hear about in your pop culture, but a creation of Helena’s, the goddess of Helheimer. I think—correct me if I’m wrong, Horonius—that he was a human boy in Amenhotep the Third’s court who, along with his twin brother Helonius, was captured by Helena and pressed into her service as personal servants-slash-guard-dogs-slash-bodyguards. But a short while ago, Helena had his brother killed in order to charm a potential ally into giving her something she wanted.”
“Oh my gosh,” Miri said. She reached out and touched Horonius’ hand, but he didn’t move a muscle and continued to stare straight ahead. I figured he was like one of those guards at the queen’s palace in London—those guys tourists try to get a rise out of but are famous for, well, doing exactly what Horonius was doing right now. Which was absolutely nothing.
“We’re here,” li’Morl said, continuing to answer Mir’s questions, “because we need your help—or rather, James’ help. And it has everything to do with your dream, Miri, because you answered the biggest question that no one on Asgard, or anywhere really, has been able to answer. Desolation is alive.”
Miri threw herself into my arms, spontaneously bursting into tears and leaving all us guys, even li’Morl, looking seriously uncomfortable. As for me, I managed to keep the tears to a minimum and I think I hid most of them in Miri’s hair. When Miri leaned back to beam her sunshine smile at us, I noticed Horonius hadn’t gotten in on the smile-party.
I slapped Horonius on the shoulder, appreciating the perfect worn-in softness of my T-shirt under my hand. “What’s got ya down, man?”
He looked at me and I let my hand fall to my lap. “I do not understand,” he said.
“Understand what? How you can look so good in a T-shirt and jeans? It’s called style, that’s what.”
“ I believe our friend here is anticipating the rescue. A most arduous task, I would imagine.” li’Morl’s words fell like a wet blanket on our celebration. “Horonius believes he knows where Desolation is—and now that you have dreamed it, Miri, I feel certain his information is correct.”
He flicked an invisible something from his dark blue suit-vest (now this guy knew about style; he wasn’t wearing any designer I recognized, but man, I’d like to meet his tailor, that’s for sure), and let his gaze rest on me. “That is where you come in.”
To my credit, I didn’t hesitate. I might not have known who this guy was, might not like the way his presence made me feel like I’d do whatever he asked me to do, but I knew what I’d do for Desi, for Miri. “Whatever you need, I’ll do it.”
A sad-seeming smile flashed across
Ten minutes later, a very uncomfortable-looking Horonius sat beside me on the coffee table, dressed in my jeans and my vintage straight-from-their-last-concert Grateful Dead shirt. Miri sat across from us, wearing a very satisfied smile. Her bright eyes gleamed at me and I decided that my Offspring shirt had suddenly become my favorite.
“So what’s the deal?” Miri asked. “What are you, Horonius? And what are you guys doing here? And what does it all have to do with my dream?” She delivered her questions rapid-fire style and left Horonius looking a little stunned. It had no effect on me. Except that I beamed at her like the love-sick idiot I was.
Horonius looked as if he might not ever speak again. Like maybe being a dog was better than wearing weird clothes and answering hard questions. But li’Morl didn’t have that problem. He answered all her questions without batting an eye.
“The deal is,” li’Morl seemed amused at Miri’s choice of words, “we’re going to rescue Desolation. Horonius is a Hound of Hel—not the “hounds of hell” you hear about in your pop culture, but a creation of Helena’s, the goddess of Helheimer. I think—correct me if I’m wrong, Horonius—that he was a human boy in Amenhotep the Third’s court who, along with his twin brother Helonius, was captured by Helena and pressed into her service as personal servants-slash-guard-dogs-slash-bodyguards. But a short while ago, Helena had his brother killed in order to charm a potential ally into giving her something she wanted.”
“Oh my gosh,” Miri said. She reached out and touched Horonius’ hand, but he didn’t move a muscle and continued to stare straight ahead. I figured he was like one of those guards at the queen’s palace in London—those guys tourists try to get a rise out of but are famous for, well, doing exactly what Horonius was doing right now. Which was absolutely nothing.
“We’re here,” li’Morl said, continuing to answer Mir’s questions, “because we need your help—or rather, James’ help. And it has everything to do with your dream, Miri, because you answered the biggest question that no one on Asgard, or anywhere really, has been able to answer. Desolation is alive.”
Miri threw herself into my arms, spontaneously bursting into tears and leaving all us guys, even li’Morl, looking seriously uncomfortable. As for me, I managed to keep the tears to a minimum and I think I hid most of them in Miri’s hair. When Miri leaned back to beam her sunshine smile at us, I noticed Horonius hadn’t gotten in on the smile-party.
I slapped Horonius on the shoulder, appreciating the perfect worn-in softness of my T-shirt under my hand. “What’s got ya down, man?”
He looked at me and I let my hand fall to my lap. “I do not understand,” he said.
“Understand what? How you can look so good in a T-shirt and jeans? It’s called style, that’s what.”
“ I believe our friend here is anticipating the rescue. A most arduous task, I would imagine.” li’Morl’s words fell like a wet blanket on our celebration. “Horonius believes he knows where Desolation is—and now that you have dreamed it, Miri, I feel certain his information is correct.”
He flicked an invisible something from his dark blue suit-vest (now this guy knew about style; he wasn’t wearing any designer I recognized, but man, I’d like to meet his tailor, that’s for sure), and let his gaze rest on me. “That is where you come in.”
To my credit, I didn’t hesitate. I might not have known who this guy was, might not like the way his presence made me feel like I’d do whatever he asked me to do, but I knew what I’d do for Desi, for Miri. “Whatever you need, I’ll do it.”
A sad-seeming smile flashed across
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