Days had turned to weeks and Malachi’s hope was dwindling. Each day brought a fresh wave of sadness and worry. They had no body and no idea where Kiran had gone. He didn’t want to believe that his son was dead. He’d pleaded with the gods for a sign, any sign. Anything would be better than wondering. He wasn’t sure how much more he could handle.
He was sitting at the dining table in the kitchen, staring at the newspaper in his hand but his thoughts were with Kiran. If he was indeed in Helheim, he hoped he wasn’t suffering, but even Jessica wasn’t sure. Kiran had said that Death liked to taunt and torture him. He shuddered at the thought of what Kiran must be going through.
Adara pulled a chair out and sat down next to him. “Can I talk to you?”
“Of course,” Malachi said and put his cup do
