Temper, Temper

DESI

The god of the Bifrost stood much taller than Michael, and almost twice as wide. Both his arms were outstretched, one reaching out for his enormous sword encased beside him, just out of reach. In his other hand he held a golden horn. On his black-as-night face he wore an expression of ferocious anger, his eyebrows drawn down, his silver eyes glittering, his mouth wide open in a scream I could almost hear.

Helena skipped up to him and traced a finger over the outline of Heimdall’s shoulders and face. “Isn’t he glorious?” She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “Did you know we used to date? He was such a shy one, Dally was.” She leaned toward me and whispered conspiratorially, “That’s what I called him. My little Dally-Wally.” She paced in front of him, sizing him up and down. “So careful. So bo-ring.”

She sauntered toward Michael, carefully putting one foot in front of the other. Michael’s whole body tensed.