Fallen Mortal by J.A. Culican & Elizabetta Holcomb

Author:J.A. Culican & Elizabetta Holcomb [Culican, J.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dragon Realm Press
Published: 2020-05-07T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

I discovered that I didn’t like the theater. At least, watching the same scenes over and over again, I could do without. Didn’t mortals know that living life was better than pretending? Give me a good battle with the gods; that was entertaining. I’d been popping in and out of the theater for a week, watching the hopefuls’ every move, barely concealing my lack of interest. There were times I wanted to shout that Maxwell won, but I knew I had to carry this thing out like a script.

When I wasn’t reaping or pretending to be mortal, I was holed up in my chamber going over the pages Jord had procured from an elf. She hadn’t been joking when she said it was the good parts. Halflings could be created in a variety of ways. The most lethal of them were beings like Jasper. Half god, half mortal was the deadliest because they could function in all nine worlds and the gods didn’t like that. As a mortal, they could discern things of the immortal worlds and that was dangerous. A mortal like that could uncover the demise of the gods.

Jasper could have lived a normal mortal life if Orum and I hadn’t intervened. It was stupid that gods marked halflings. It was like putting a target on them. Reapers flocked to marks, either to counter-reap or stalk to discover the nature of the mark. Halflings were better left alone until the final reap. At least if they weren’t marked, they’d have a semblance of protection. But, then again, a half god, half mortal must be marked to protect Asgard and the pantheon.

Still…

Maxwell could be a halfling. He had the charisma, the stamina. When he was directing, he was mesmerizing. Everyone took note when he led, and everyone wanted to please him. There was an unearthly aura around him. Students flocked to him, all wanting to be a part of his production. He belied a sense of hope, and they all wanted hope and a future. Perhaps his good looks had something to do with his popularity. Perhaps they didn’t. Either way, something was wrong with him, and it was up to me to find out what that was. Being handsome didn’t make him defective to Midgard.

However, he was somewhat defective to me. While his memories had been erased by Orum, mine remained intact. I remembered what transpired between us and the knowledge burned. If only it was easy to delete a certain kiss from my own brain. If I was sensible, I’d run in the other direction. The more I studied Ragnarok, the more I realized what a bomb I was holding, and that Maxwell could very well be the trigger. Even though his memories were gone, I could sense the unease in him when I was around. As if it would only take a breath and he’d recall who and what I was. He had untapped powers within him that begged to be released. The mark of Odin lingered, but had nothing to do with what lay beneath his skin.

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