A Vigil in the Mourning (Soulbound #4) - Hailey Turner Page 0,39
room could comfortably seat five. Three of the seats were taken, and its occupants watched them come with unblinking eyes.
The hair on the back of Patrick’s neck stood on end as they approached. His skin felt electrified, and not in the good way when he was with Jono. The trio’s auras were blinding, glowing like the sun, making it impossible for Patrick to look any of them in the eye. Within seconds the brightness faded, even if the heaviness of power in the large room didn’t.
“So good to finally meet the mortal who wields my prayers,” Odin said dryly before taking a sip of scotch.
Patrick’s fingers twitched toward his dagger, but he didn’t draw it.
The Allfather and titular ruler of the Æsir appeared middle-aged, blond hair silvered at the temples and blending into the closely trimmed beard he sported. He wore a dark gray suit that screamed wealth and status, the kind bought with a credit card that had no limits. Odin’s left eye was a clear, deep blue, while his right was steely gray in color, though cloudy, the difference easily explained away by heterochromia.
He looked exactly like the picture of him the SOA had on file; the agency just had the wrong information. Despite Patrick’s new knowledge, he would never be able to update the file.
“You may sit,” the regal goddess positioned to Odin’s right said. She offered Patrick a gentle smile, but that would never be enough to ease his wariness when dealing with gods.
She was beautiful in the way most goddesses were, and revered by her people the way queens expected to be. The immortal passed these days as a middle-aged socialite whose designer winter clothing would’ve been coveted by Nadine Mulroney if his best friend were here. Her light brown hair was done up in a chignon, and the jeweled sort of headband she wore could’ve doubled as a crown of sorts.
“Oh, hey,” Wade said happily. “Hot dogs!”
The table was covered in so many platters of food there was almost no room for the plates. The small tray piled high with plain hot dogs in buns was surrounded by tiny ceramic condiment jars. Wade plopped down in one of the empty seats and stared longingly at the tray of hot dogs until the god to his left picked it up and passed it to him.
“One should never go hungry,” the dark-haired god said, his voice deep and amused.
Wade snatched the platter out of the god’s hands and started to smother the hot dogs with all available toppings. Patrick didn’t tell him to stop, choosing instead to sit quietly beside him, keeping all his attention on Odin.
“Should I call you Aksel Sigfodr?” Patrick asked slowly. “Or would you prefer Odin?”
“I am worshipped by many names. I answer to them all,” Odin said easily enough, which wasn’t an answer. There were so many ways to piss him off if he didn’t like what name Patrick chose to use.
He figured asshole wouldn’t be the best place to start.
Patrick’s gaze flickered over to the goddess again, weighing who she could be and only coming up with one answer. “Frigg?”
Odin’s wife, the titular queen of the Æsir, smiled at him in a way he was sure she thought was comforting, but which made Patrick want to run for the exit. Sitting there reminded him of the breakfast he’d interrupted on Hera’s rooftop last summer. The only difference was he didn’t have Jono with him to lean on for support.
“Well met,” Frigg said.
Patrick nodded slowly at that statement, in no way wanting to repeat it, because the words would be false. The dark-haired god at the table passed over a tray piled high with bone-in prime rib. “Take some.”
“I’m not hungry,” Patrick said.
“I am,” Wade mumbled around a mouthful of hot dog.
The god produced a knife from somewhere and transferred a thick slab of prime rib to Wade’s plate. The teen hummed happily at the addition, and Patrick resigned himself to letting Wade eat whatever he wanted at this table.
“You’ve done well by the fledgling,” the god said.
“We try,” Patrick replied.
“I know.”
The statement had Patrick eyeing the god warily, mind skimming through all the possibilities of who the immortal could be but unable to decide until he looked into eyes no mortal would ever have—pale blue with a thin rainbow of colors ringing black pupils that seemed full of stars. Eyes that saw everything, the way Muninn and Huginn could, only in a different way. Tasked with keeping an eternal watch