He thinks I talk too much, but I’m not saying even half of what I’m thinking. I haven’t worked this out fully yet. I don’t know quite who he is… or what he is. He’s not a normal man, that’s for certain.
Thor takes me by the hand and leads me out of his room. The abbey is just as I expected it to be. Old. Run down. Gothic in the extreme. This is a place that needs millions put into it to get it back to its old self. I can feel the energies here. I imagine anybody could.
“Mrs Crocombe?” Thor calls out to a kindly lady in the kitchen. She has graying hair and a floral apron and she's bustling about between more pots and pans than I can imagine anybody needs to cook basically anything.
“Yes! How can I help you, young man?” She comes toward us with a smile.
“This is Anita. She’s going to be staying here for some time. As in, she’s not allowed to leave. I was hoping you could feed her and keep an eye on her. I’m sure she'll be good for you, because there will be hell to pay if she isn’t.”
“Of course I can. What do you like to eat, Anita?”
“Literally anything," I reply. “This all smells amazing.”
A broad smile crosses her face. “Then I wager we are going to get on very well indeed. Come and sit down.”
“I’ll leave you two,” Thor says. “Please, Mrs Crocombe, call me if you have any problems.”
“I’m sure that won't be necessary," she says.
“I’m not so sure," he says, cutting me a severe glare. One might think he’d soften after everything we’ve just done, but apparently soft is not in his vocabulary. I thought punishment was supposed to lead to forgiveness. I suppose I haven’t been punished enough yet.
“Pie,” Mrs Crocombe says. “Come sit at the kitchen table and have a slice.”
“I can’t sit,” I say ruefully once he's gone. “But this really looks delicious.”
“Well, you won't be the first lass to eat standing up in this kitchen, and I’d very much doubt you being the last.”
I like her. She has a warmth about her and a no-nonsense attitude. She is also generous with her portions, feeding me like I am starving. The more I eat, the better I feel about life in general. The aching in my arse is starting to fade to a dull throb, but the stretched sensation inside is going to stay with me some time longer, I imagine.
What a twisted fucker he is.
7
Thor
“Got your hammer back, I see.”
Bryn is going for understatement for now. I’m certain he’d like to curse and break things. I’m almost certain he's broken something already. This is starting to get messy, and to no benefit for him.
“Yes. Not without cost.”
“Yes. You appear to have the girl as well.”
"I do.”
The conversation is a little stilted and awkward, but really, we have all seen more and worse than what he just saw. We are brothers, and that means a certain intimacy that comes with being family.
“You shouldn’t have brought her back here, Thor.”
“I had to.”
“Why?”
“Because she killed someone with the hammer.”
His brows rise almost all the way to the dark shock of hair threatening to fall into them. Bryn is master of Direview Abbey by birth, and the local parish priest besides, but he is not a traditionally groomed priest. None of us are particularly traditional in any way.
The news that Anita has murdered somebody does not strike him the way it might be expected to. He does not give into hysterics or righteous condemnation. After a moment, his brows return to their usual locations.
“Well," he says. “And what are we going to do about that?”
“She’s mine now.”
“Yes. I suppose she has to be.”
“Nonsense!” There’s a general harrumphing from the direction of the fire. I didn’t notice Steven asleep there, the oldest of the Brotherhood, and the wisest of us all.
“Call the police and turn the little hammer murderer in,” Steven says, spluttering awake. His mood has not improved lately. I wonder if he needs a tune up of his arthritis medications. Old people need a lot of medical maintenance.
“I don’t want to do that, and when you hear where the murder happened, neither will you.”
“Where did it happen?” Bryn asks.
“Craig’s house.”
“How does she know Craig?” Bryn asks another very good question. Questions I might have asked if I was not so obsessed with dominating and claiming her. It is time she was interrogated.
“Oh. By the way. Her name is Anita.”
“Anita…”
“I don’t know her last name.”
"Well. It is hard to get to know someone when you have them naked, wet, and upside down.” Bryn smirks. “Bring her to us.”
“She's not exactly dressed at the moment. I didn’t catch her with a spare change of clothes. Does Nina have anything that’ll work?”