Word Count: 2500 Max
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Character: Grief Counselor
Setting: Secret Room
Ranked: 14/37 in house
Freyr watched Jake hold the urn of his father while sitting shotgun in a golf cart decorated to look like a viking long boat. The young man looked like a giant penguin abducted by senior tourists as the funeral procession snaked its way to the front of the Golden Corral, where Freyr and Billy protected their parking spots.
“We don’t need you, Freddy,” Billy said while adjusting his plastic horned helmet, trying not to fumble his tiki torch. “We all had our goodbyes with him.”
“That boy in the suit didn’t.”
The sound of plastic horns filled the Florida evening as everyone in the service made their way past the packed buffet to their reserved room in the back.
It had been a long time since the Vanir tribe was at its peak. Freyr spent most of his time nowadays working as both a grievance counselor and activities coordinator at a Norse Pagan secular retirement community. Although he was thankful for the media boom in popularity, he found it harder to convince his new flock to actually embrace old traditions.
Though he could no longer change the weather or fix infertility, he could still cast smaller blessings like having the servers at the buffet ignore his followers filling their own drinks in unsanitary faux horn steins.
As everyone grabbed their seats, Freyr felt a general unease. Worry about running out of certain food items pelted his mind. Jake’s core captivated him the most, being an amalgam of emotion.
“Let’s have everyone grab their food first.” Freyr hushed into Billy’s ear, who was using face paint to add nonsensical designs to his cheek. He felt him hesitantly pause, but eventually, he shook his head in agreement.
“Warriors! Our fallen brother would not want us to honor him with empty bellies and dry casks. Grab your bounty in honor of Adam!”
A wave of grunts and cheers filled the room as Billy the shaman followed them out. Jake didn’t move. He sat in his chair, lost in his thoughts, as Freyr made his way to him.
“How are you feeling right now?”
“Sad,” Jake replied, wringing his hands, then gesturing to the room. “And confused.”
“They can be interesting,” Freyr gently smiled. “Why don’t you take a walk with me?”
Freyr sensed another kindling of anger radiating from Jake. “I do not really need to talk about it.”
“We do not have to talk. We can walk in silence while grabbing a beer.”
“I still do not want to give a eulogy. I told you on the phone, and I told you when I got here. My answer is still no. I haven’t seen Adam since I was a kid and even the small amount I saw him when he was around he was a fucking asshole.” Jake finally made eye contact with Freyr. He could feel the fear of crying from him and a burning rage.
“I get it,” Freyr said. “Your dad was a dick. He was fun as a friend, but he was a dick for what he did to you. I am not trying to convince you otherwise, and I am not asking you to butter him up.”
Freyr pointed to the white urn that was nestled in a pile of furs next to the lectern. He finally noticed the airbrushed caricature of Adam as a Viking. His hair looked more like He-Man’s than it actually did in life.
“You get the last word.” Freyr said, while doing a double take of the urn. “You get to shut the door behind him.”
Freyr let the silence rest as Jake studied the urn that looked like a prize from a county fair.
“I think I want that beer.”
Freyr went from a warm smile to one of joy. Golden Corral didn’t serve alcohol. Something about trying to be a more family-friendly environment. Instead, Freyr led Jake past the dining room and through the kitchen and into the employee area. Waving to people as he passed with one hand, casting basic blessings to make everyone think he belonged there.
With the other hand he rubbed a stone in his pocket, focusing on placing a new door in the back. One that led to his own office at the retirement community, where he had a mini-fridge with beer. Something that once would have been trivial now took power that requires weeks of cultivating.
The office was nothing special. Other than the large, intricately carved desk and the dog bed that had a pig sleeping in it, it looked like the average office of a businessman who hosted people for long conversations.
“Should we be back here?” Jake said a little louder. Freyr heard him talking on the way here, but he had to spend most of his concentration on just getting the portal to his office up.
“It’s fine, the manager is a good friend of mine.”
Freyr reached into the mini-fridge and handed Jake a beer. He felt Jake look towards the pig a few times but was surprised when he didn’t bring it up. He had a dozen excuses why there would be a pet pig, and he was hoping to use one.
People’s emotions felt alive to Freyr. They always had. To him, people were flesh wrapped around a writhing core of emotions, and it was always his desire to calm them. It was not just what fed his powers, but over the centuries he had grown to enjoy it.
“So, was he cremated on a pyre?” Jake let out a sharp, annoyed chuckle as he tried to break the silence.
“Unfortunately, that is illegal in Florida. Now we mostly just sprinkle some of the ash in a campfire as we tell stories of the one who passed.” Freyr let out a sigh. “You are welcome to join us tonight if you would like.”
Jake’s core knotted. Before he could say anything, Freyr put a finger up.
“I am not expecting you to talk. But it might be valuable for you to get an idea of who he was to the community here. People are complicated; they can mean different things to different people.”
“I appreciate you finding me. I appreciate you reaching out. But I am not here to find out who he was.” Jake’s core felt like it was being strangled.
“If you took time off work and flew down here, then I will wager that there is something inside you that wanted to find out who the man was.” There was a moment of silence while Jake nodded. “Adam liked to party. The man spent the last ten years here, treating everyday like a weekend. If you came here just to see if he left you something, you will probably be disappointed.”
Jake’s core now tantrumed as his face grew red. Freyr braced for possibly being hit. It was always a possibility when he went this route. Most men held emotion like a dam. It was, unfortunately, the way a lot of boys were raised. However, the release of anger usually led to the dam breaking and emotions to actually run free. Free emotions were easier to work with and control.
His face could be a punching bag. It’s worth the spiritual payoff.
Jake instead threw his half-full bottle of beer at the desk, startling the pig out of its dream and causing poor Gullin to squeal as he shot up. Jake stormed out of the room. Freyr cautiously followed him, throwing up blessings at a comfortable distance, making sure no one paid too much attention to Jake.
The last thing Freyr needed was for the outburst to be directed at anyone else. He could not bless his way out of the cops being called and Jake getting assault charges. You didn’t need to be considered a god to tell that Jake was one minor inconvenience away from breaking, and he was walking into an area filled with his father’s friends wanting to comment on how much he looked like his father in fake Nordic accents.
Freyr gently tugged at Jake’s emotional core, trying to unravel it. He pulled on his rage that tugged like a thrashing fishing line. He forgot the thrill of having to manipulate people’s emotions with stakes. It was not the same as doing it on battlefields, but the thrill was still there.
A rippling core remained within Jake. It was sadness and regret rolling and fighting. Jake had to work through those emotions on his own, but Freyr could still guide him to calm.
“I’m sorry.” Freyr said as he finally caught up to Jake near the soft-serve machine. “I should not have said what I did. I do not know what you are going through, and I was out of line.” Jake only nodded before walking back to his chair.
Billy and his drum gave a service that was ten minutes long that mentioned Valhalla no less than twenty times. They all thought they were headed for Valhalla and always found it shocking that they ended up in Helheim. Even Freyr would love to see some of the more annoying of the flock spend eternity in constant battle.
When Billy was done, a few of Adam’s closer friends gave their eulogies. Freyr spent that time reading Jake’s core while shooting hints of emotion and removing the wisps of others. Freyr worked hard on holding back the anger during a story about how Adam was popular with the young servers at a local Applebees.
By the time the eulogies ended, Freyr had stacked Jake’s emotions with confidence and anger. Before Billy concluded the service, Jake stood up and took the floor. Freyr tried to hold back a smile, but it pushed out as a smirk.
“I did not want to talk today,” Jake started with a shaky voice as Freyr eased his tension. “But I feel compelled to. I didn’t know my father. Yes, I look like him, yes I smile like him, and as you have all mentioned, I talk like him. But I am not my father, and I never plan on being anything like him.”
Freyr worked on loosening Jake’s anger. He could feel the tension in him, not wanting to say how he felt, not allowing himself to feel the anger he should be feeling. Sometimes finding peace is through venting decades of bottled anger.
“Adam was a fucking prick. His life was a joke, and I am happy that even after his passing, his death is a joke. My father was not a warrior; he was not brave, or caring, or compassionate. He was a selfish loser, and after hearing most of your experiences with him, he never grew out of it.”
Freyr could feel the anxiety and the tension in the core of everyone in the room but Jake’s? Jake’s shined. It didn’t just stop rippling but was growing in him like a miniature sun that Freyr was more than happy basking in.
“You all are a bunch of losers too. Fuck all of you.” Jake said weaker as the adrenaline waned and looked at Freyr pointing at him. “Especially you.”
The room grew silent. Billy’s mouth hung open as he dropped his drum. Most of the others looked like scolded children. Freyr, though, could not contain his enormous grin. Jake was at peace, and he got to feed on his internal calm.
Freyr reached for the horn mug of the man sitting next to him and raised it.
“Skål!” Freyr shouted with a grin and took a sip of the diet coke in the mug.
A few of the flock hesitantly cheered back with nervous laughter. Jake stormed out of the room; he had his closure and a story to tell. Freyr now had more people to calm and power to harvest.