Sorry my updating is sporadic. Just so you know, there's about seven chapters of this story, so it's not over until it ends with 'The End'.
Also, in the Scion game I played this character in, the GM ruled that it was okay for a Scion whose god had only one or two purviews to take a few extra, provided they made sense.
Chapter 3 – The Visitation
Ten minutes later, Sven walked through the glass wall of a small coffee shop, and Helen followed him in through the door.
She was unnerving as ever, but dressed up pretty. Helen had done her best on her eyes, with black shadow, eyeliner and mascara. She'd also put on a touch of black lipstick.
She wore a long-sleeved shirt with an embroidered rose across the chest, and a fishnet wool sweater over that. Her black skirt was short, but ruffled, and her stockings were a lace pattern, ending as they disappeared into calf-high black boots.
Her favorite black satchel was slung across her chest, and she had rings around her fingers, silver bracelets on her wrists, her lucky gold safety pin in her right ear piercing, and a spiked collar. And of course, the bone necklace.
The coffee shop was nearly deserted, except for a few sleepy customers near the front. Odd for a summer night in New York City—midnight wasn't exactly late.
And the customers barely looked up when Helen walked in. In addition, the skinny guy with the green apron seemed to be on autopilot, jerkily mopping the floor behind the cash register.
Sven gestured Helen to the back of the coffee shop, and Helen saw a woman sitting there.
She was tall—you could see that even though she was sitting down—and her back was very straight. She cupped a coffee in one hand, her fingers thin and white, her nails black and beautifully manicured. She was thin, but with alluring curves. She wore a satin dress with fluttery sleeves down to her elbows, and spiked high heels. Her skin was pale, and her inky dark hair fell in waves down her back—except for a few locks, which drifted across the left side of her face.
Helen walked towards her, and her mother turned to look at her. Helen sucked in a breath.
Her face—it was a perfectly lovely face, with high cheekbones and dark eyes—but at the same time Helen felt a sudden urge to vomit. Something was wrong about this woman—very wrong.
Helen kept her eyes focused on the right side of the woman's face. It seemed more natural.
Slowly, Helen walked over to the table, and sat down across from her mother. She had a nervous feeling in the bottom of her gut. She liked to be in control—but this woman had the control. This woman was a Queen.
Her mother, Helen—Hel—studied Helen's face closely. Her irises were pitch black. After a moment she sat back, and nodded.
"You're quite well." She said. Her voice was melodious, but as eerie as her face. "I was afraid you'd turn out fat."
"My Dad's fat." Helen said. She gripped the strap of her satchel.
Hel smiled, but it was more like a sardonic grimace. "I know." She said. "I was there. It wasn't very pleasant. Mind you, being fat isn't a problem. But I prefer things a bit more…gaunt."
"Then why did you date him?" The words were out of Helen's mouth before she could think.
Her mother frowned slightly. "I never 'dated' the man. I used him…to get you, as a matter of fact. We Gods must have our Scions, mustn't we? A child of mortal flesh, with the divine ichor of a god in your veins, making you smarter, stronger, prettier, better. You have no idea how much potential rests within you, Helen. No idea."
"As for why I chose your father…he was weak. I repulse most men, so it's difficult to stay with them. He was afraid to leave me, no matter how much I frightened him. And after I threatened him, he was too afraid not to raise you, no matter how much you disturbed him. Your father is a coward, a sniveling craven, who jumps at shadows and is easily dominated. The sort of man who dies in his bed, far from any battlefield."
Hel smiled. "That's the most useful sort of man."
Helen's mouth had dropped open. Her mother cocked her head to the side, looking almost curious.
"Something on your mind, darling?" Hel asked.
Helen was silent for a moment, then willed herself to speak. "I…all these years, I thought you were a coldhearted bitch who'd abandoned me. Now I've met you, in the flesh…and you're more of a coldhearted bitch than I ever imagined. You're like…like the Goddess of ice-crotch queens."
Hel looked surprised for a moment. Then she laughed. It was not a pleasant sound, but somehow it felt soothing to Helen.
"Hee-Hee-Hee!" Hel giggled. "Oh, you're a sharp little thing. I like you. I bet you've made people squirm."
"It's your fault." Helen said. "You're bothering the hel—the heck out of me. But I do that to other people."
Hel nodded. "I'm sure you do." She reached out, and stroked her index finger down the left side of Helen's face. It was cold as ice, but Helen didn't flinch.
"These pustules are only a small part of it—a mimicry of my true power." Hel gripped her daughter's face gently, but firmly. "I'll show you. Hold still—"
Helen spasmed suddenly, and opened her mouth to scream. No sound came out, but she tumbled off her chair. Oddly enough, her butt didn't hit the floor. She found herself elegantly crouching, flat on her two feet.
Slowly, Helen stood up. Her knees were shaking.
"Sorry to muffle you, darling." Hel said. "But I knew you'd scream, and we can't have that happen. This is a public place. Well, sort of."
She gestured around the shop. Sven was sulking in a corner, but the other patrons had barely moved.
Helen sat back down in her chair. "That face—" The looming monstrosity, half pink skin and gorgeous hair, half rotting corpse, maggots crawling through the teeth and cheek. "—That was you. What you really look like."
Hel sniffed. "I assume you learned something about mythology in school."
"They taught us Greek legends—"
Helen's mother scoffed loudly. "The Dodekatheon. Boy-lovers and Virgin Princesses, every last one of them. But important allies. Did you learn anything of the Aesir?"
"What?"
"The Norse Pantheon. The Dodekatheon are Greek and Roman. There are six pantheons around and about these days. We Norse gods are the Aesir."
"Oh…" Helen looked around. "A bit. Um…there was a God called Odin, he had an eye missing—"
"Crooked son of a btch." Hel said. "Go on."
"Um…Freya?"
"Pretty, empty-headed whore everyone wants to marry." Hel rolled her eyes.
"Loki?"
Hel's eyes lit up. "Ah. That's your grandfather. He's a cunning trickster. Don't trust him or his Scions, you never know what they really want."
Helen let out a short, half-hysterical breath.
"Jesus. This stuff is all really real." She twisted her hands around her satchel strap. "There are gods, all sorts of gods, and my Mom is the queen of the Viking underworld!'
Hel took a sip from her coffee cup. "It's a wonderful domain, dark and glorious. And every inch of it—every soul—belongs to me."
She gestured towards Sven. "You see him? He was a farmer. Went to war only a few times in his life. Always longed for more. And had he died in battle, he would have become Einherjar, one of the immortal warriors of Valhalla."
Hel smiled. "But instead, he fell off a plow and broke his neck. He has been mine ever since."
"Wow." Helen said. "That sucks. Unbelievably so."
"Quite. But he's one of my gifts to you." Hel pointed at the necklace Helen wore. "Just like that."
"It helps me see the dead, Sven said." Helen replied.
"Yes…the Bitter Coward. And you could walk through a riot, and be a cloud of calm amidst the chaos." Hel said. She reached into a black leather bag at her feet, pulled something out and placed it on the table. "There is also this."
Helen reached forward to pick up the small half-mask that lay on the table. It was made of burnished black wood, light but very sturdy. There were painted white lines coming from the eyehole, stark against the dark wood.
"Hidden Beauty is its name." Hel said. "Place it over the right side of your face, and you will see in the dark better than any beast. And if you look at the moon, it will show a birds-eye view of the world around you. A veritable map."
Helen raised the mask, and put it over the unmarred side of her face. It fit perfectly. She felt an electric current, a strange tingle, move through her. And the shadows in the coffee shop were suddenly less pronounced.
She lowered the mask in time to see her mother place a long knife, sheathed in leather, on the table.
"Whoa." Helen said.
"This is a hadseax, for your protection."
Helen made a confused face. "What? Hadsix? Had sex? What?!"
"It's nothing magical…simply a long knife." Hel said. "I expect you will not need to use it much. I am the sort who would intimidate with words and appearance, and you should be the same."
Helen looked up. "Wait…what is all this for, anyway? Why all this stuff? What's so important about…about Scions, anyhow?"
Hel chuckled dryly. "I was wondering when you'd ask that." She said. "Do you know what a Titan is?"
"Some kind of Greek predecessor to the gods." Helen said.
"Very good…but the term encompasses more than the Dodekatheon Titans." Hel said.
"All pantheons have Titans, giant behemoths who would dominate and destroy this world, given the chance. Long ago, we gods sealed them away. But they have escaped…have been escaping. Their children, the titanspawn, aid them and seek to free all the Titans. It is the purpose of you Scions, you blessed mortals, to fight the titanspawn, and help us seal the Titans away again."
Helen blinked.
"This all seems very…epic." Helen said
Hel smiled. "Well, you are an epic person." She said. "Though rarely born, Scions have great power, and they work together to serve their parents." She waved a hand dismissively. "No matter that Odin is a hypocrite, or the Dodekatheon are pompous, or the Loa are mad. No matter our differences, we gods all share a common goal. We must defeat the Titans and their spawn."
"So you want me to go out and kick butt?" Helen asked.
Hel laughed. "In a way. It is in your nature. You will need little instruction, as long as you are looking."
"What, you won't help me?" Helen asked.
"I am helping you, child." Hel said. She gestured at the knife and mask. "All this is my aid. The ghost Sven: I have taught him of your world, and made sure he can drive an automobile. He will be a good servant. I cannot be here always to guide your hand. I was barely able to come here now."
"Why?" Helen asked.
Hel leaned close. "We buried the Titans, and the seals to their prisons lay deep in the earth. When they broke through, they marred the underworld. I said my domain was glorious, and I spoke truth---but for the past several decades it has been a tumult. Holes have been ripped through it—and souls are escaping. The dead walk the earth, and not just those from my domain. I meant to come for you a year earlier, if not two. But I have had my hands full."
"So you want me to help fix it?"
Hel's face was deadly serious, dark and frightening. "Exactly."
Helen's mother reached into the bosom of her dress, and pulled out a piece of paper. She handed it to Helen, who opened it. Written in brown ink (or what she hoped was ink) was a name: Fortlest.
"This is a town in Pennsylvania—ghosts of mine have escaped there—actively escaped, not simply gotten lost. I want you to send them back, and keep more from getting out."
"What? How?" Helen asked.
"You will find a way." Hel gestured to Sven, and he came forward.
"Take my daughter home, make sure she is safe. She is your Mistress now."
"Yes, my Queen." Sven said. "He motioned Helen to rise to her feet. She followed him towards the door, but suddenly turned back to her mother.
"Wait, wait…" She said. "This won't work. I can't go to Pennsylvania, I don't have a car."
Hel looked confused. "Yes you do. It's a sedan."
"That's my Dad's car, and he uses it to get to work. Why I have no idea, New York is not a city meant for cars…but he won't let me take it, and he's sure not gonna let me go on a road trip anyway."
Hel looked thoughtful for a moment.
"Don't worry." She said. "I will talk to him."
Hel gestured to Sven again, and the ghost led Helen out the door.
TBC
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