Very Much Alive

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To Mom and Dad, who aren't going to get copies of this. They aren't old enough to read it yet.

To Memom, who will get a copy, and knowing her, will sneak it to my mother when I'm not looking.

To Anne Cain, who, quite frankly, rocks the covers! (Book covers, you pervs! Sheesh. What the heck would I know about what she does in the privacy of her boudoir?) And to Dusty, who was man enough to sniffle when Christian Slater whispered, “Stay,” and was so touched by the movie that we had Sterling roses in our wedding. Love you, sweetheart.

Long ago...

Baldur looked down at the broken, bleeding body of the man who'd sacrificed himself so that Baldur could live.

Baldur had been furious when Loki ambushed him, binding him and silencing him with a damned Jotun spell. He'd watched, furious, as the fiery-haired man took on Baldur's face and form and strode into the Thing, the sacred space of the gods. He hadn't realized that Loki had been intent on saving him.

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