Chapter 9I walk into the hotel with Fenrir tucked under my arm.
The bobble-head clerk who had first checked me into my room is back at his desk and looks up at me with alarm as the door slides closed behind me. “Are you all right?” he asks. “Do I need to call an ambulance?”
I wonder if really look that bad. I hold out my free arm before me. My suit hangs in tatters with long, dangling threads. I suppose I could have fixed it, this piece of sewn material being the simple work of a human. I could’ve changed into my Asgardian robes. So why hadn’t I?
Because I wanted to be seen like this? Because I wanted to show I’d done a hard day’s work? Because I wanted the world to know of my redemptive labors? Or was there something more?
“I’m fine,” I answer the clerk. I start to walk past his des
