“Well, I work here,” she said. “What’s this about weapons and wishes?”
“Someone left my spear on my doorstep.”
Frigg froze for a second before the easy smile returned. “That’s not allowed.”
“No,” I said. “It’s not.”
“Does our falling car have something to do with it?”
I shrugged. “Could. It falls out of the sky, then just hours later, weapons start showing up on doorsteps.”
“Weapons. Interesting,” Frigg sipped coffee. “I suppose this is where I tell you I got a package in my mailbox. Let me get it.” She disappeared back inside the shop and came out with a padded mailing envelope.
“It showed up this afternoon.” She brought out a now familiar cardboard box and lifted from it a beautifully crafted wooden stick with metal inlay. She held it out so I could better see it.
The staff was about three feet long and tapered to a blunt end. Clusters of mistletoe leaves and berries were carved at the top, creating a leafy crown. Sunlight ran like amber pitch down the staff, catching rainbow prisms from symbols of sheep, grasses, water, clouds. Threads of copper, silver and gold looped through it all, like spun silk.
I could see the power in it, hear it. The call of battle was there, voices rising in shouts of victory, but there were other songs: weeping, celebration. The wind and water, the hushing murmur of love, all blending with the shift and clack of twine between wood, fate spinning universes into thread.
“This is one of my distaffs,” she said.
“Mistletoe,” Odin added quietly. “But how?”
Her gaze flicked to him, and something passed between them.
Many legends said they were husband and wife. In Ordinary, it was clear they were fond of each other and shared a long, long history. But as far as I knew, they weren’t living as a married couple.
Maybe that was part of their vacation. Maybe being married that long meant they wanted a break from it. Wanted some time alone.
I thought about Ryder, and all the years he had been away from Ordinary. I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to take a break from him. Couldn’t imagine ever wanting to be alone.
It wasn’t my job to keep track of Frigg and Odin’s private life. From all I knew—and from that look they were sharing—they were seeing each other quietly on the side.
“I would love an answer to that,” Frigg said, and it took me a minute to remember I was supposed to be paying attention to the mistletoe distaff she was holding.
“Is it a weapon?” I asked.
Odin chuckled. “Is it a weapon.”
“It is,” Frigg said simply.
“Okay,” I said. “I didn’t know that.”
“That’s the thing,” she said, walking toward me. “Almost no one knows of its existence. Those who do assume it is a part of my weaving, a part of fate and future and knowing.”
“Knowledge can be a weapon,” Jean said.
“True,” Frigg agreed, “but this kills.”
It glinted again, catching a harder edge of sunlight.
“We’ll need to lock it up,” I said. “Put it in the vault with the other god weapons.”
She nodded. “I’d wondered what I was going to do with it. It’s against the laws for me to carry it here.”
“Myra put the other weapons in the vault,” I explained.
“Which vault?”
