“I’ll drink to that,” said Jack. The champagne went down incredibly smoothly.
“Merlin politely declined my invitation to the festivities,” said Freda, with a sniff of indignation revealing her thoughts on the matter. “Witch Hazel and her familiar, Sylvester, sent their regrets but could not attend due to a Witch’s Sabbath. They asked me to wish you their best.”
“Enough chattering,” said Hugo, having eaten most of the floral display. “When do we order dinner?”
“This looks like the waiter now,” said Jack. A handsome young man, dressed in a tuxedo, bustled over to their table. Quickly and efficiently he handed them all menus.
“Glad to have you dining with us tonight, friends,” he declared. “My name is Bryan and I’ll be your server. The special for tonight is nectar and ambrosia, served Greek style. I’ve sampled it earlier and there is no question our chef has come up with food fit for the gods.”
“Sounds wonderful,” said Cassandra. “I’ll have that.”
“Not to my taste,” said Fritz Grondark. “You still serve that two-pound T-bone with all the trimmings?”
“The Erisichthon special,” replied Bryan, grinning. “Few order it and fewer finish it. But I’m willing to bet you’ll do it justice.”
“Mead for me,” declared Freda. “And boar’s flesh for my raven.”
To his relief, Jack discovered the extensive menu included numerous specialties fit for human consumption. “I’ll have the shrimp scampi. With a baked potato.”
“Very good, sir. And the lady?”
“The whole Maine lobster, please,” said Megan, smiling innocently at Jack. “I love the sound their shell makes when I crack it open.”
Mentally, Jack swore never to look at another woman again. He valued his life and health too much to dare cross Megan.
“Thank you,” said Bryan. “I’ll return in a few minutes with your salads and some bread.”
“No dressing on mine,” cawed Hugo. “But lots of croutons. I love croutons.”
“To be sure,” said Bryan, and departed.
“I never imagined a place like this existed,” said Jack, his gaze sweeping around the restaurant. The Pied Piper and the sirens had long since left the bandstand. They had been replaced by a solitary saxophone player. A short, stocky figure dressed in baggy pants, with a thick brown beard and long, curly hair, he had to be Pan. The noise of the room drowned out his music but Jack thought he caught a few bars of “Yakkety Sax.”
“Is there a restaurant like the Chaos Club on the East Coast?” asked Megan.
“Of course,” said Freda Collins. “In the heart of New York City. It’s called the Immortals Palace. The food and drink aren’t nearly as good as here. Minos owns the Palace and he’s a tightwad. He waters down the mead and…”
Freda suddenly stopped speaking. She clenched her jaws shut. Eyes narrowing to pinpoints, the Valkyrie folded her arms across her chest. Jack, quite familiar with his mother’s moods, recognized a storm brewing. As did Hugo.
The raven swung its head around in a circle, searching for the cause of Freda’s anger. Halfway through the motion, the bird froze in a complete stop, Three figures were approaching their table. “Oh hell,” Hugo declared, “it’s him.”
Him, whoever he was, was a tall, slender man with a narrow face and thin, thin cheekbones. His glowing black eyes matched his slicked-down black hair. Bloodless lips, curled in the vague semblance of a smile, creased an otherwise white face. He wore a black suit with white shirt and black tie. There was a harsh coldness to the man that chilled Jack’s blood.
He walked slowly, arrogantly, like a king making his way through his subjects. Following him, a few steps to the rear, were the two biggest men Jack had ever seen. Seven feet tall, with shoulders nearly as wide, they were built like walking walls. Shaggy white hair, white beards, and glazed white eyebrows defined them. They were creatures of ice and snow and eternal night. Though they wore conservative business suits, they should have been dressed in the skins of animals.
“Frost giants,” muttered Fritz Grondark. “I knew I should have brought my monkey wrench.”
“There’s nothing to worry about,” said Freda Collins, her voice taut with emotion. “Even they know better than to risk the anger of Hercules. Besides,” she added, with a harsh laugh, “Loki keeps them on a tight leash.”
“Loki?” said Jack, caught by surprise. “But I thought the Norse Gods vanished with the advent of Christianity in the northlands.”
“The evil one accompanied the Gods on many of their adventures,” said Freda, “but his parents were frost giants. When belief in the White Christ banished the Aesir, Loki remained—to plot mischief against mankind.”
“Obnoxious bastard,” added Hugo. “He deals in illegal weapons these days. Sells guns to whoever can afford them. I’m surprised to see him in the States. Usually he’s in the Middle East. And lately in Eastern Europe. Maybe Mongo knows something. Remind me to ask him later.”
“Quiet,” said Freda. “He approaches.”
Lips pursed as if in deep thought, Loki strolled around their table, not stopping until he reached Freda’s chair. The frost giants took positions behind Cassandra and Fritz Grondark. The two hulking monstrosities exuded cold. They were like walking snowmen. No one paid the least attention to Jack or Megan.
“Freda Valkyrior,” said Loki, his voice surprisingly mellow. “Long time no see.”
“Not long enough,” snapped Freda. “What do you want, trickster?”
“Want?” replied Loki. “Why should I want anything? Enjoying the fabulous mead available only at this fine establishment. I spot an old acquaintance. I felt it my duty—nay, my privilege—to come over and say hello.”
“How touching,” said Hugo, hopping to Freda’s shoulder. “Seen the kids lately?”
According to Norse mythology, Loki was the father of three bizarre offspring. One was the Fenris Wolf, destined to swallow the sun during the Twilight of the Gods. Another, the Midgard Serpent, had grown so gigantic that it circled the world beneath the sea, clutching its tail in its mouth. The third, his daughter, Hel, was born so ugly that she was given domain over Nifflehelm, the land of the dead. Jack suspected Loki did not like being reminded of his children.
Astonishingly, the man in black laughed. “Ah, the ever-humorous Hugi. Still performing tricks in the circus with your idiot twin brother? Too bad the All-Father isn’t around to hear your jokes. I’m sure he would have been quite amused.”
Squawking with rage, Hugo launched himself at Loki. But the bird never reached his target. Moving with shocking speed, the frost giant behind Cassandra reached out with both hands and grabbed the raven by the neck.
“Should I crush his head, master?” asked the snowman, his while eyes glistening with excitement. “Should I?”
“No, you fool,” gasped Loki, angrily. He was having trouble breathing because Cassandra’s left arm was wrapped around his throat. The Amazon’s other hand held the point of a steel dagger to the trickster’s right eye. “Release the bird.”
“Yes, sir,” the giant said, and dropped Hugo to the table. “Sorry, sir.”
With a whisper of steel, the knife in Cassandra’s hand disappeared. Releasing Loki, she stepped over to Megan’s side. Smiling her most dangerous smile, she nodded politely to Loki. With a wry grin of his own, he nodded back.
“Nicely done,” he remarked. Then he turned to the bemused giant. “The next time I tell you to watch the Amazon,” he said, his voice colder than ice, “watch the Amazon.
“Actually, Freda dear,” continued Loki, acting as if nothing had happened, “I came over to meet your famous son.”