For the first time in weeks, Derrek felt refreshed. Showers had been a respite from the world since the barn, but today it was simple preparation for an event. He was in such a good mood, he even helped his new neighbor move a few boxes into his unit. His name was Floyd, and he had more hair on his head than three regular people combined had on their entire bodies, bound up tight in a thick man-bun. He seemed like a fine enough neighbor, though he habitually hit a vape rig, blowing smoke or whatever it was everywhere.

  However, Floyd was but a blip in the blur that was the time between leaving his office and waiting outside Terras’ door. She was dressed in an elegant green dress, a different shade and more modest than her getup from the party, but it had just as strong of an effect on Derrek. She turned out to live near MeGuiars, so they opted to walk, filling the time with idle conversation. Everything felt lighter with her by his side, and before he knew it they had arrived. He had made reservations a half hour earlier, and the ma?tre d' had laughed until he had given his name. Needless to say, there were perks to being a well-known business leader.

  They sat now at an excellent table on the second floor near the handrail, a waiter bringing a complimentary bottle of wine and pouring each of them a glass. Derrek raised his glass to the man who bowed his head and scampered off, leaving him alone with Terra, who was swirling her wine around, slyly smirking at him. She glanced around at the decor, marble columns spiraled with faux ivy against mustard floral wallpaper, took a sip of her wine, and winked.

  “You certainly know how to treat a lady. I've been wanting to try this place since they opened.” She set her glass down and leaned forward slightly, cocking an eyebrow. “Well played, Mr. Snowe.”

  Derrek winced, but managed to make it look playful. “Please, Derrek will do fine. I'm still not used to my employees calling me Mr, let alone a goddess.”

  An adorable dimple formed on her cheek as her smirk grew a half-inch wider, her emerald eyes sparkling with mischief. “Fair enough, Derrek.” The way she said his name sent a shiver down his spine, every word like honey in his ears. Maybe something less sticky, like a meadow breeze. “So, what made you finally decide to call me? I've been on pins and needles since the party.”

  Her sarcasm sounded just as sweet as her sincerity, and Derreks’ smile grew sheepish. He couldn't lie, not to her. “Being honest, I got to tell off a smug prick who let himself into my office, and that small victory gave me the confidence to call you.”

  Terras’ eyebrows shot up, her confident smirk falling away. Her pillowy lips parting slightly, an unknown sentence halted on her tongue. She blinked and closed her mouth, looking at him in a new light. “I wouldn't think someone like you would need to muster confidence. You seem… different from the night we spent together.” Derreks’ heart raced as he sensed the question lurking, the one he knew he couldn’t lie to her about. “Did something happen?”

  Derrek closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, the revolver blasting in his ear as Adam collapsed on the floor. He shoved the scene away and grabbed his glass, downing half his wine in a single gulp as he met Terras’ gaze. He couldn't lie to her, but he could avoid a question like nobody's business. “What do you know about Ragnarok?”

  It was a calculated risk. It was outside of her pantheon, but he suspected she was more than well-informed, and his suspicion immediately bore fruit. Her eyes went wide and she leaned back slightly, watching him appraisingly. She took a sip of wine, her eyes never leaving him as her slender throat shifted as she swallowed. The glass made no sound as she set it down, crossing her arms on the table, leaning back in, her gaze narrowing.

  “To the humans, Ragnarok is the Norse end of days, an apocalyptic event where Loki leads an army of giants and his monstrous children to slaughter the gods. The wolf Fenrir swallows Odin whole, Thor and the world serpent J?rmungandr kill each other in a world-shattering fight.” She waved her hand dismissively. “So on and so forth, the world is destroyed and reborn. I’d go more in depth if it wasn’t all shit. Nothing but a story humans told each other around fires in the cold winter. In reality, Ragnarok was not an event, but a person. Sort of.”

  Derreks’ brows shot up. “Sort of? What do you mean by that?”

  Terras’ her chin on her hand, tapping her chin with a perfectly-manicured nail. “He wasn't human, but he took human form. I don't know what he is or where he came from, but when he appeared he threatened the world itself. He was not only powerful, but cunning as well, pitting the Norse against each other and folding their pantheon in on itself at the height of their strength.” She grimaced, looking away from him and fixating on the wallpaper. “I hate to say it, but we have Discord to thank for Ragnaroks’ downfall. From my recollection, Loki sought him out and brought him and some dozen humans that followed him to their land. If I'm not mistaken, Helios of the Greeks was with them as well. There was a battle, and Helios opened a portal to the sun, allowing Discord to throw Ragnarok through after binding him with chains too strong for even Fenrir to break.” She took a long swallow from her glass, her eyes narrowing and finding him again, dread filling Derrek as the question loomed. “Why do you ask?”

  His mouth was suddenly dry. He took his glass, his hand trembling slightly as he downed the rest of it, feeling a trickle down the corner of his mouth. He dabbed his cheek with a napkin, the red splotch on the white fabric looking like a bloody bandage. He took a deep breath and met her gaze, the worry in her eyes both alarming and comforting; he didn't want to worry her, but it warmed his heart to know she cared enough to do so. “On Saturdays, Discord drags me along on some adventure or another, and after you left that's exactly what he did. He told me we were dealing with a blood cult, you're familiar, aren't you?”

  “I am.”

  He couldn't help but smirk, even if it only lasted an instant. “We put on disguises and infiltrated them, and I spent half the day helping out with farm work.” His mouth curled up once again, and he risked a wink. “I rode a bull, it was crazy. That ended up being what convinced the cult to let me in.” His smile slipped away and he felt whatever playful light he had in his eyes go out. He refilled his glass and took another gulp. “Their leader was this… I don't know, some kind of self-made prophet, and they all worshiped the ground he walked on. Discord sabotaged their truck and the leader tried him on the spot. After that, we all went to the barn and…” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “And…” He started blinking. He couldn't lie to her, but he couldn't do this either. He was on the verge of jumping the rail and fleeing, damn the consequences when he felt Terra rest her hand on his across the table.

  “It's alright,” she said, gracing him with an understanding smile. “I know how one deals with a blood cult. You did the right thing.”

  Derrek grimaced. He wanted to believe it, more than anything, but part of him just couldn't. “You don't know what I did.”

  Her grip on his hand tightened and her eyes hardened, almost glaring at him. “I don't need to, not to know you did the right thing. It's who you are.”

  His heart fluttered and ached at the same time, a kind of painful tremble. From anyone else, it would have felt like a lie, but even with her sweet voice it was hard to bear. He tried to pull his hand away, but her grip was not to be denied. He didn't try very hard, but he still struggled to meet her eyes, willing his voice to stay level. “We barely know each other, how can you know that?”

  Her expression softened, and a small smile crawled across her face as her grip loosened, thankfully still keeping it in place. “You do have a reputation. At the party you were meeting a stranger, but I was meeting the man who risked his life to protect the people of the Schadenfreude. The first person with the willpower to resist the Devourer. The man who struck down Reginald Bernmore, whom, I should mention, murdered my son Janus and mounted his two-faced head in his parlor.” Her eyes sharpened again and her grip was back with a vengeance. “You do the right thing, no matter what. That's who you are, and I won't hear otherwise.”

  Derrek was stunned. It may have been the kindest thing anyone had ever said to him, and it warmed his soul to know she had such a high opinion of him. Or at least that she expressed such an opinion; she was still a goddess, and he’d be a fool to think she wouldn't lie to him, even if he couldn't do the same to her. He shifted his hand, pressing his palm against hers and meeting her loosened grip, fully holding hands now. Somehow, it felt much more intimate than their night together. He couldn't help the smile on his face.

  “Thank you,” he said, “I really appreciate it.”

  They stayed like that for Derrek didn't know how long, holding each others’ hands, staring into each other's eyes until they sensed movement beside their table. He quickly pulled his hand away when he noticed the waiter who had brought their wine standing next to them, like an embarrassed school boy and the waiter was the teacher. Terra only smirked and winked at Derrek before turning her attention to the smiling waiter as he spoke.

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  “Has the lovely couple decided on an order?” He had a soft, unimposing voice and stood at rigid attention, much like Emmett, Derreks’ waiter at the Schadenfreude. He hadn't thought about Emmett in months, and he realized he also hadn't looked at the menu once. He started to lift it, but Terra reached out and pressed it back flat on the table, winking at him before addressing the waiter.

  “We’ll have an order of the stuffed mushrooms to start, then two beef wellingtons with the garlic risotto and vegetable medley.” She deftly retrieved both her and Derreks’ menus and held them out for the waiter to take. “Thank you very much.”

  The waiter nodded and accepted the menus. “Right away, ma’am.” He scampered off, leaving Derrek in a state of bafflement. He hadn't been on many dates, truth be told, but this was the first time his date had ordered for him. Coming from Terra, he didn't mind it one bit. He smirked at her and raised an eyebrow.

  “Someone did her research.”

  She raised her chin proudly, looking down her nose at him. “A lady should always be prepared.” She chuckled sweetly and shugged. “I would have gone for the lobster troubadour, but I know you're allergic.”

  That one surprised him, and he couldn't hide it. He knew for a fact it hadn't come up between them. She’s been talking to people about me. It didn't bother him. Maybe it should have, but it didn't. He was almost flattered she had gone out of her way to learn more about him. He felt his smirk evolve into a smile.

  “You did all your research, it seems. Let me guess, Zeus mentioned it?”

  She matched his smile, and he knew he was right. “It may be hard to believe, but you're something of a celebrity now. Gossip about you is worth more than gold, and spreads like the plague.” She winked playfully. “Don't worry, I only believe about half of it.” Before any of that could sink in, Terra rapped the table with her knuckles, propping her arms on the table and leaning forward. “Now, what did that blood cult have to do with Ragnarok?”

  Derreks’ smile faded away. No more avoiding it. He took another gulp of wine and took a moment to compose himself. Better to do it than to live with the fear of it. “They weren't a blood cult. Well, they were, but something else overrode their connection to the blood god. They were worshiping Ragnarok, and we didn't find out until we were halfway through the sacrifice.” He took a deep breath and another slurp from his glass, opting to gloss over the twenty-nine lives he took. That might have been a bit of a mood-killer. “There was this red smoke that engulfed Discord and lifted him into the air. Apparently he was on the sun while he was in there, however that works. Then the Grim Reaper and some cosmic accountant with weird eyes showed up, they said a bunch of cryptic stuff…” He shook his head. “I think I was in shock, but the gist was the chains were weakening and Ragnaraok was taking over cults all over the world. I don't know, I couldn't really follow any of it.”

  Terra stared at him, eyes wide and mouth open. She grabbed her glass and elegantly chugged the remainder of her wine. She held out her hands and took a breath, letting it out slow. “Are you telling me Ragnarok is breaking free?”

  Derrek winced. If murder was a mood-killer, the apocalypse certainly was. “I guess I am.”

  She stared at him for another moment, then grabbed the wine bottle, refilling her glass and taking a liberal gulp, leaving the bottle half-empty; it might have been half-full, but he was feeling pessimistic. She gasped in a breath and composed herself immediately, looking at him with an intensity unlike anything he had seen from her before. “What are you going to do about it?”

  Derrek blinked. Of all the questions, that was the one he expected least. He didn't speak for a moment, glancing over the railing at the diners below, all enjoying their meals blissfully unaware of the larger world, or its impending end for that matter. “I'm not sure,” he found he had said, “I don't know what to do.”

  A silence hung over them, the drone of the packed restaurant ameliorating the situation only slightly. He eventually mustered the courage to face her again, and there was a strange look in her eyes, one he couldn't place. She suddenly smiled, that look in her eyes waning, but not fading.

  “I'm sure you'll figure something out.” She said it so confidently, so surely that he almost believed it himself. At that moment, he could almost imagine himself doing it. Saving the world all in time to make it home for dinner. This was why he loved her, he realized, that undeniable conviction behind everything she said. She hadn't once said a thing to him that wasn't true, at least not true to her, and this felt like no exception.

  Before he could express his gratitude at her confidence, the waiter reappeared with a steaming tray of fragrant morsels, placing it between them with little fanfare but a great deal of mouthwatering, regardless of the mood.

  “Here you are,” the waiter said, oblivious to the content of their conversation, “I hope you enjoy, your entrees will be out shortly.” He was gone before they could even thank him, leaving them with a tray of stuffed mushrooms to accentuate the end of the world. Boldly, Derrek popped one of the fungal delicacies in his mouth and chewed with relish, the earthy tones of the mini-portabella mingling with the cheesy stuffing.

  “Mmm,” he mumbled through a mouthful, “Delicious. You really know how to pick them.”

  She laughed, and the end of the world was nothing but a distant memory. They ate the mushrooms, chatting lightly now that the heavy talk was out of the way. By the time their entrees came out, they were too engrossed in their discussion about a show they had both seen to notice. When they finally did, they dug into their savory pastry-and-beef dish, the perfectly-baked beef melting on his tongue, mingling with the savory sauce drizzled across the top. The risotto was creamy and paired perfectly with the medley; they both had piled each piece of zucchini, squash and bell pepper high with the small pasta, turning every bite into a culinary experience.

  Before he knew it, the bill had come and the dinner was technically over, even if they enjoyed their table for a bit longer. Eventually, they had to leave, and he left a generous tip to the nameless waiter who had so generously distracted Terra when he had needed it most. They polished off their bottle of wine and left, arms on each others’ shoulders as they strode back to Terras’ apartment; just walking her home, of course.

  She suggested they take a shortcut through an alley, and despite his well-earned apprehensions he accepted. He had been shaken down in alleys countless times in his youth, but he was a lot stronger now, and accompanied by a goddess no less. They made idle chatter as they strode past the broken pallets and rotting garbage, until they turned a corner and found themselves face-to-face with a hooded figure.

  “Gimme your money.” There was a flash and Derrek realized their robber had a knife. He waved it around back and forth as if he had no idea how to hold it, and Derrek raised his eyebrow at Terra.

  “The chivalrous thing would be for me to kick his teeth in in your honor.” He smirked at his date, ignoring their assailant all but entirely. “But I would be remiss if I didn't give you a chance to do it yourself.”

  Terra smiled back at him, touching his shoulder gently. “You are such a gentleman.”

  The robber sneered at them, shifting his eyes back and forth between the two, clearly unused to being ignored. He was about to reiterate his threat when Terra stepped forward. The mugger jabbed with his knife, and she swatted it away, sending it clattering against the brick wall and leaving their assailant baffled and disarmed. Before he could muster the wits to swing with his fists, she karate chopped him in the neck, folding him down to his knees with a grunt. She spun and round-house-kicked him at the mid-section, sending the mugger crashing limply into the wall. She smoothed out her dress and leered at her unconscious quarry for a moment before grinning at Derrek.

  “My place. Now.”

  He couldn't help himself, he grinned back.

  Floyd was far from his best character, but a good actor should take whatever part he is given. The wig was itchy and the whole vaping thing was altogether unpleasant, but it was necessary to his character. He was lucky to get Snowe to help him move; it was the perfect opportunity to watch him up close. By all estimates, he was an altogether average individual, but the tracking tag didn't lie. That “help moving” had given him the perfect opportunity to steal Snowes’ keys and make a mold of his apartment key, replacing the ring before he had a chance to go on to whatever plans that freak had. The dot on Adams’ tablet had disappeared weeks ago, but the coordinates were not to be denied, and the fact that the apartment belonged to one of the country's freshest business leaders did the subject no favors.

  Floyd had managed to cast a mold of Snowes’ apartment key in between boxes, and it was as simple as grinding down the right spots on a blank to see what Snowe had to hide. Not much, as it went. Snowe was average, at least on the surface. The first forty-five minutes of Floyds’ search were filled with things he had seen a thousand times before: regular groceries, regular toiletries, regular furniture. Aside from that bleached hair, there didn't seem to be anything amiss with the billionaire-CEO.

  That was until Floyd reached Snowes’ bedroom. Almost everything was in order, the pure essence of normalcy, until he caught sight of the note balled up in the corner of the room. Floyd retrieved the ball of paper and uncurled it, fully appreciating the words on the paper.

  “Havok,

  “I’m sorry. I don't know what else to say. I should have been the one to deal with the cultists, and I’m sorry I put you in that position. It should have been me, and I don't mean that in the pathos kind of way. It should have literally been me. It's my fault you were stuck with the role you were forced to play, and I should have tried harder to cast you differently. This is all my fault and you deserve to be mad at me, and I won't dare take that away from you. I hope you'll forgive me. Lord knows I forgot how to.

  “-Discord.”

  Floyd had less than no idea what any of that meant, but it was all beyond valuable. He had no idea what normal people talked about, what their relationships or conversations resembled, but he knew when he had profitable information. The rest of the living space provided no evidence; whatever GPS tag Adam had applied, the garments were long gone. No matter, Floyd had learned all he needed.

  And the Actor had learned much more. So much more.