Mary tried not to react to the image on the smart board in the front of the room. The stylized wolf head was all gaping fangs and fur. Standing next to the wolf, barely coming to the top of its long, lean haunch, stood a trio of figures bearing great swords poised as if to swing. The beast ignored them to focus on a single figure standing before it bearing a spear.
“As can be seen here, Norse myth holds that the great wolf Fenris is fated to kill and consume Odin, the All-Father.”
By now, taking notes while thinking about something else had become second nature. If it hadn’t, Mary would have failed every subject. Objectively, she realized she spent more and more class time reminiscing about the past. Subjectively she just couldn’t bring herself to care.
Like now; as Ms. Morris droned on about the Norse mythos, Mary’s hand dutifully scribbled notes about Odin and Tyr binding Fenris at the cost of Tyr’s hand and sword. Her mind, however, wandered back to the inter-school dance.
***
Mary scanned the room. Before her trip to Britain, she had been class president, and always had one eye open to be sure her classmates weren’t embarrassing her or the school. After the trip, she had begun to delegate that to her fellow cheer squad members, only checking up at major events. Of course, the first major inter-school social of the year qualified as a major event, and the disasters during winter break had kept her from anything but cursory oversight.
Her team had surpassed all her expectations. Everything was in order. The cafeteria, always more elegant than most high schools’, had been transformed into the image of a grand ballroom. Dry bars graced the four corners of the room, and two tables of appetizers sat along the kitchen side. At each bar and table, one of her team stood chatting with the girls running the station.
Mary drifted over to where Carol did a last-minute check up on the DJ. Like Mary, Carol’s dress had been designed for her, and it showed in how well it displayed her athletic figure. Distracted by her teammate’s dress, she failed to register what they were talking about until Carol turned to her.
“It’s your call, Mary. What do you think?”
“Sorry, I was a million miles away. I think I’m still recovering from that flu over the break.”
“It’s OK. Are you sure you should be here?”
Mary tried to keep her frown from showing. “Absolutely. The day I can’t make myself look presentable for a major school function is the day they can elect someone else. Now, what did you ask me?”
“Do we want to start the music now, so the early arriving girls have something to listen to, and swing into the entry music set when the Johnsons arrive, or do we keep it quiet until the guys get here?”
This time Mary couldn’t stop the frown before it made it to her face. “You know I hate it when you call them that.”
“Hey, I didn’t name their school.”
“I know. OK, start the music now, but keep it quiet. The guys are supposed to get here when it’s just us organizers, so the arriving girls have an appreciative audience.”
The DJ nodded, turning to the electronics. As he did, Carol pulled Mary closer and away from the DJ booth. Standing in the middle of the ballroom floor they had a semblance of privacy.
“Have you heard about him yet?”
“Who?”
Carol looked up at her with disbelief writ plain on her features. “The new hottie at RMJ. He got there late last term. Everyone says he’s going to be here tonight.”
“I care why?”
“Mary! You’re the cheer captain. You’re the one who’s supposed to be grabbing up the hottest guys.”
Mary gave her teammate a quelling look, but Carol wasn’t one to be intimidated quite that easily.
“C’mon. At least say you’ll talk to him when he gets here. They say he’s got a whole bunch of cute guys over at RMJ hanging with him. If you open with him, we can get them talking.”
“I thought the guys were supposed to come talk to us, not the other way around.”
“Yeah, but you shoot down anything with a Y chromosome. Seriously. Four years running I’ve been basically dateless, because it was that or date someone from, y’know, one of the public schools.”
“And you didn’t do that why?”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“’Cause I didn’t want to be grounded for life.”
Mary’s rolled eyes were her only response.
“C’mon. At least say you’ll let him talk you into dancing when he gets here.”
Mary sighed her surrender. “Fine. One dance, so you nitwits know I won’t smite you for dancing. That’s it.”
“Good enough.”
“Have you seen Gwen?” Mary tried to keep her voice detached, her interest veiled.
“Change of subject much?”
“Yeah, no. She was supposed to DJ tonight, and after what happened to her parents over break I want to make sure she’s all right.”
“I saw her at the last practice, where she had us all doing DDR until we dropped. She gave me this chick’s card, told me she didn’t feel like watching the rest of us dance.”
“I’m worried about her.”
“You’ve got to stop worrying about everyone and have some fun, Mary.”
Mary’s response was drowned out by the sound of the ballroom doors crashing open. By sheer force of will she kept her hand away from the pendant dangling from the choker on her neck, kept herself standing upright rather than falling into a fighting crouch. Instead, her head turned, mouth falling open into carefully feigned surprise.
When her eyes met the young man standing in the doorway, all pretense was lost. His gaze was so intense, so focused on her, that for a moment all she saw, even from across the room, were his eyes. His eyes were the most amazing shade of amber she’d ever seen. They were framed by dirty blond hair just long enough to muss artfully.
Something about him sparked something in her. Her stomach tightened; her knees got weak. She thought her heart was racing, and then he began walking toward her. The moment he did, raptor grace in every step, it pounded like she was some kind of rodent trapped in the gaze of a snake. Dimly, in the background, the music changed. With deepening dread, she noticed his stride shift without pause to fit the new music, his hand came up as he approached her.
She reached out to grasp his hand, but before she could complete the movement, he held her hand in his. He knelt gracefully, his lips cold against her fingers, and before she could think to respond, he stood before her, one hand still holding hers captive. Her gaze trapped in the amber before her, she couldn’t look away. A predatory grin spread across his face, and his off hand waved at the dance floor.
“Artemis Mary Drake, I presume. I am Mort Lefee. May I have the honor of the first dance?”
***
“…violent nature of the Norse myths often prevents casual readers from grasping the subtleties involved. An excellent dual example is the myth of the binding of Fenris.
“The first layer of subtlety is Gleipnir, the chain that binds him. Since nothing can hold the Fenris Wolf, he is held with a chain made of things that don’t exist. In effect, he is held in place by nothing. A neat bit of sophistry there. Note that as a vocabulary word: sophistry. I’ll expect you each to find one example by next class.”
Without conscious thought, Mary flipped to the back of her notebook and scribbled the assignment and the due date, then flipped back to her notes.
“The next layer of subtlety in this myth is how Fenris is gagged; the hand of the god Tyr is lodged in his mouth, held in place by Tyr’s own sword. In effect, Vengeance is only held back by the sacrifice of the god of Justice…”
***
He took that first dance, and the next, and the next, and the next. The evening passed in a blur of dancing, compliments, and a vague unsettling queasiness that kept her on the edge of panic, on the edge of violence all night. Only one thing stood out from the moment she met Mort to the moment he left for the night, unspoken promises and enticements dancing in his eyes.
In a momentary silence between songs, Mort’s derisive snort, too quiet for anyone beyond Mary to hear, alerted her to something behind her. She turned, unsure of why anything beyond Mort would be important. For a moment, the repulsion and attraction still warring within her kept her from making sense of the scene at the doors. A single person stood centered in the doorway, scant white dress accentuating the slim black figure within.
Mary watched the face above the dress. When the doors opened that face was open, honest, hiding none of the girl’s frightened anticipation. Then her searching eyes found Mary clasped in Mort’s embrace. Before Gwen’s mask came down Mary saw hope shattered and fears realized. Gwen caught the DJ’s eye, nodded, and turned to leave.
For a moment, watching her go, the faint nausea in the pit of Mary’s stomach was quelled, replaced by a sad longing so bittersweet it felt everyone about her must be able to feel it. Then her partner spun her about to face him, and the evening blurred once more.
***
“Ms. Drake! What are the components of Gleipnir?”
Startled from her reverie, Mary scanned rapidly through her notes. Two pages back, she found a brief reference to the name Gleipnir, with the words ‘bear, beard, breath, cat, spit, roots’. Dutifully, she recited those components. As she did, the rest of the class stifled giggles as Ms. Morris’ face grew sterner and sterner.
“Sadly, your notes seem to be incomplete, Artemis. You will complete an essay on Gleipnir, its components, and the subtleties of language and concept employed. No less than five hundred words, no later than tomorrow.”
“Yes, Ms. Morris.”
“The rest of you, who find Ms. Drake’s discomfiture so amusing, will complete an inventory of the components of Gleipnir, as well as the remaining items which were required to emplace it.”
“Yes, Ms. Morris.”
Satisfied with the answering chorus, Ms. Morris returned to her smartboard. With a wave of her pointer, she banished the notes and images on the Norse mythos and called up an image of a warrior dressed from head to foot in colored glass.
“Many cultures in Europe and elsewhere have a tradition of noble Faerie. The most common modern collective appellation for these noble Faerie is Sidhe. While descriptions differ from place to place, one thing they have in common is an allergy to…
“Yes, Ms. Drake?”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Morris. May I have a note to the Nurse’s office? I’m really not feeling well.”
“Do you believe you are about to vomit?”
One hand on her clenching gut, one pressed against her pounding temple, Mary wondered if she could even get the response out without proving it. After a few moments clenching her teeth, she gave up and just nodded. Ms. Morris’ reply reached her through a head pounding from the motion of her nod.
“Very well. I will email you the remaining presentation. Be sure you watch it tonight. If you are out sick tomorrow, your essay will be due upon you return.”
Mary rushed from the room. One hand clamped over her mouth, the other scrambled madly for her pendant.