“I don’t know,” she says after a moment. “It appears inconsistent, like it is just waking up. But it does seem to be fueled by love. Which is why I think you might have a shot at saving your father, so as long as you’re willing to sacrifice all that you have and all that you are. Including your life.”
“I’ll do anything,” I whisper, my mouth going dry.
Her thin blue brow raises. “You say that. But you won’t know the truth of it until the time comes.”
Suddenly Rasmus lets out a loud moan and both Vellamo and I look over to him. He’s still in the water and his hands are fisted into the hair of a mermaid as her head bobs beneath the surface.
“Oh my god,” I exclaim. “Is he…getting a blow job from a mermaid?”
“Mermaids are fascinated with mortals,” Vellamo explains dryly as she looks back to me. “As are most Gods. If you ever can, I would use that to your advantage.”
My cheeks go hot and I look away. I have to admit, there’s something thrilling about the voyeuristic aspect of it all, not to mention the whole mermaid thing, which would fit nicely in the monster erotica I read when I need a helping hand, but seeing Rasmus at any stage of sexual activity is just plain gross.
“If you’re finished, we must be on our way,” Vellamo says curtly to him.
He gives us a sheepish look and then zips up his pants before sloshing back onto shore, the mermaid swimming away. “Sorry. That one always likes me for some reason.”
“Now you’re all wet,” I tell him. “I hardly think that was worth it.”
Vellamo just shakes her head and holds her hands out, gesturing for me to put my hands in them. Her palms are covered in shimmery designs, like henna but in fish scales and pearls.
“Wait, what’s happening?” I ask.
“You’re to continue your journey on foot,” she says, gesturing again. “As I told Rasmus, you’ll never get a chance to dry and warm up if you stay on the boat, and I can’t offer you protection on the river. Just stay on the banks but don’t stray far into the forest either. The Hiisi control it.” She nods at the sword at my feet. “And bring your sword in case you run into any Stragglers. With it you should be able to handle them with ease. If you can’t, Rasmus can always call on Tapio, God of the Forest. Like me, he doesn’t mind doing mortals a few favors, but he may want something in return.”
I try to suck up each bit of information she gives me but it just goes over my head, and I look over at Rasmus who has stopped at the highest point of the snowy river bank. Beyond him I just see mist, no forest, nothing.
“Don’t forget the sword,” Vellamo says, her voice getting impatient.
I nod and pick it up. I throw it and the sword goes sailing through the air like a silver bird, stabbing the snow perfectly. Then I place my hands in Vellamo’s, her touch cold and almost electrical, and she lifts me up out of the boat, placing me on the pebbled shore.
“I will return the boat to Loviatar,” Vellamo says, gracefully climbing into the vessel. “I owe her a favor.”
Then the mermaids surface around the iron ship and push it off the shore until it’s floating freely. They turn it around and the ship starts to move across the sea. Vellamo raises her hand in a subtle wave and then turns her attention to the bow as they get further and further away, disappearing into the mist.
Then I turn around to face Rasmus. “What the hell is your problem?” I ask.
“Me?”
“Getting your dick sucked by a mermaid,” I sneer at him, stomping through the snow to my sword. “Right in front of me, I might add.”
He shrugs, looking pleased as punch. “What do you care?”
I roll my eyes, my hand tightening around the sword’s handle. “I care that I didn’t want to see that. If I had an annoying younger brother, I could imagine it would be the same.”
He frowns, his lip curling in a snarl. “I’m older than you.”
“It’s hard to tell sometimes.” I say that simply, enough to raise his hackles.
He continues to glare at me, then turns and starts walking along the riverbank. “Come on. Vellamo is right. We need to make a fire, get warm and dry, then have something to eat.”
Brush my teeth, take a warm shower, put on deodorant, I continue wistfully in my head, trudging after him. Get a fresh change of clothes, slap on some moisturizer, do my hair.
We walk for a while—time seems too fluid here to keep track of—and eventually we come to a stop by a thicket of birch trees. As we walked, the land became less barren, with shrubs and bushes populating the low hills, eventually leading to scattered trees that look extra creepy in the ever-present mist, their bare branches skeletal. The snow has faded away too, only leaving a light dusting, like walking in icing sugar.