The twenty-minute drive to Scottsdale passed mostly in silence, though Thor flicked on the radio and found a top-50 station, interrupted only by the measured British voice from the GPS reading off turns and street names. The morning commute traffic dragged out the drive, but it was a far cry from the jammed six-lane highways of Los Angeles, so Hela leaned back and turned the radio up a little louder. On the horizon, the sun edged up over the mountains, casting pink and orange through the dust cloud suspended over the cityscape and blue shadows over Camelback Mountain. It would be daylight by the time they reached Odin's house.
Glancing in the mirror, Hela saw Loki passed out in the backseat, chin on his chest, headphones swallowing his ears. In the passenger seat, Thor had his own phone out, mashing away at some flashing game and very obviously ignoring her.
Finally, they turned off the highway and wound their way into a residential area. Odin had moved down to their old vacation house once the divorce proceedings started, and Hela thanked God the house wasn't in a gated community, or this would be a lot harder. The British GPS announced they had arrived, and Hela spied a familiar southwest-style home on the right side of the street.
"Bingo."
She pulled into the empty driveway shaded by yellow, wispy paolo verde trees. Riverstone covered the front yard, interrupted by golden barrel cacti, green-brown spurts of deer grass, and sharp aloe. Potted desert flowers lined the decorative wall that ran along the front of the house.
Hela threw open her door and got out. The air was dry, a little dusty, and not unbearably warm, but as soon as the sun was out in force, the heat would be obnoxious. They hadn't been here for a long time, mostly renting it out after Thor was born. Car doors slammed, and Loki and Thor got out to squint into the sun.
"Is this it?"
She raised an eyebrow at them. "Yeah. You not impressed?"
Thor shrugged. "It's fine, I guess."
Hela strode over to the decorative wall lined with orange and red flowers, and she put a finger to her lips as she regarded the identical pots. "Hmm. Which one would you use?"
Not the one closest to the door, that would be too obvious. Juvenile. The second, maybe. She grabbed and weighed it in her hand. Clay, heavy-duty. "Not bad."
Thor grabbed her arm. "Wait, what are you doing?"
"He hides a garage door opener in one of these."
"Wait, how do you know that?"
"There's been one out here for twenty years, and he's not the most unpredictable man I've ever met."
"What if it's not his house?"
She shrugged his hand off and held up a potted desert marigold. "Then I guess this will be embarrassing."
Thor opened his mouth, but she smashed the pot on the ground. Loki yelped and jumped back. The clay shards, flowers, and black dirt covered the pavement, but no garage door opener.
"Oh, well."
She grabbed the next pot and smashed it, then a third. The boys yelled, but she kicked a fourth off the wall, and a plastic rectangle clattered away, spraying dirt everywhere.
"There we go." She grabbed the button and hit it, and the garage door groaned and rattled open.
"Holy crap," Thor breathed.
She marched into the two-car garage that housed only a silver Camaro and a few plastic tubs of tools in an otherwise bare room, and in the right wall stood a door that led into the rest of the house.
"Let's see." She tried the handle, and it was locked. Unfortunate, but not unfixable. She tilted her ear towards the door and jiggled the handle a couple times. "Haven't changed the locks in ten years—a little dangerous. All sorts of nasty characters—" She flipped out her wallet, pulled out an expired rewards card, and slid it into the doorframe beside the lock. A quick push and the door swung inward. "—are coming knocking."
Cool air sighed into the hot garage, and a tiled, grey-brown hallway stretched into a spotless house. She turned back to the boys and smiled. "Looks like we're in."
The boys stared at her, and Thor blinked. "Who are you again?"
Hela smirked. "I'm the original family disappointment, boys." She strode into the tiled hallway and looked around. "Looks like nobody's home. Grab your stuff."
Behind her, the boys had stepped tentatively into the house, so she tossed them the car keys. They scrambled back outside, and Hela wandered further into the house. The hallway led into an immaculate, two-story living room with massive windows and stone fireplace that would never be used, and a magnificent black and silver kitchen. Someone had done some redecorating since the last time she was here, and the whole place looked austere. Barely lived in. Whenever Odin had moved in, he obviously hadn't spent much time settling in.
In the middle of the tile stood a pile of boxes. Unpacking apparently hadn't been too high on Odin's priority list, but on the couch sat an open box overflowing with picture frames. She crossed to it and picked up the one on top: a dusty photo of Odin, Frigga, Thor, and Loki somewhere mountainous and evergreen, probably Colorado. The perfect little family, all smiling and probably a couple years younger, not too long after she'd left for college. She tossed it back on the pile.
For a man fighting so hard for legal custody of his sons, he seemed awfully bent on leaving them out of his life.
Hela walked to the kitchen and threw open the stainless-steel fridge. Inside were a few beers, an energy drink, a few condiments, a package of hot dogs, and a half-empty bag of shredded cheddar. Not much for groceries.
Wheeled bags rattled across the tile, and she turned around. Thor and Loki looked around the house then to her.
"So do you have a tattoo?" Loki blurted.
A few really. One behind her ear, another up her spine, the one on her wrist. "Yeah."
He grinned. "Cool."
Even Thor looked impressed. "Can we see it?"
"Uh, how about another time. Maybe in five years when your mom says you can have one."
Loki's face drooped. "Aww, come on."
"Go unpack."
"Uh, where do we put our stuff?" Thor glanced around.
She gestured to the stairs. "Should be rooms upstairs if they haven't completely gutted the house."
She grabbed the energy drink out of the fridge and headed for the master bedroom down the first-floor hall.
"Where are you going?" Loki asked.
"To bed."
"Well… what are we supposed to do?"
"Whatever you want. Watch TV or something." She pushed open the door and flicked on the light. The king-sized, canopied bed was an atrocious shade of gold and white. How on earth did they keep it clean? She shut the door behind her and stripped off her jacket to the tank top beneath. Setting the energy drink down on the mahogany nightstand, she unzipped her boots and kicked them against the wall, then she fell face first onto the bed, her eyes too heavy to keep open any more. Her shoulders ached from clutching the steering wheel. The bed was ugly, but boy did Frigga know how to pick a mattress.
Down the hall, she could hear Thor and Loki yelling about something, arguing. Whatever. They were children, not stupid. They would be fine in their new home for a few hours. Hela grabbed a pillow and curled up for a well-earned rest.