Free The Valkyrie by Charlotte Vassell Page A

lack of decorum.
    “I don’t know
that I can read it out…” Bea tailed off.
    “Oh, oh, oh”
said Liberty.
    “Are you
coming?” asked Glory.
    “No, I actually
know the answer.” Liberty said proudly.
    “It’s Jane
Austen.” Glory was sure she had once stood next to dear Jane at a
ball and they bonded over how dull it all was, although she
couldn’t for the life of her remember why she felt the need to
dance a cotillion in the first place. The Nineteenth Century
(Common Era) was a bit of a giddy blur to Glory.
    “You thief. You
stole my thunder.” Liberty burst into a fit of giggles “Thunder? Oh
come on it’s funny.”
    “What’s fucking
Apollo like Liberty? No? You’re not going to answer that are you?
That’s a bonus round question. Anyone want some coke? I want some
coke.” said Glory.
    “Yeah alright,
but only if it’s the good stuff.” Honour said. Glory and Honour got
up and wobbled off to the disabled loos together to do lines of
Honour’s house keys. The questions continued rolling on by like
tumbleweed, the drinks were overflowing and the lines were all
snorted.
    ***
    Liberty’s
cheeks were numb and the room spun above her. She could feel the
throb of a vision coming on again but every time she tried to focus
all she could see were those bastard flowers from earlier but they
were becoming more and more pressing. Liberty didn’t recognise the
variety but she thought they looked like lilacs. She could feel her
chest tighten with the weight of fate. That night was going to be
something. Bea had been a little quiet since they got to the
pub.
    “What did you
think of Valhalla Bea?” asked Liberty.
    “It was
interesting.” Bea said tactfully.
    “It’s a shit
hole. Odin is a pervert; there are so many chairs I’d rather sit
on. And Freya, how one deity can be both that lazy and have that
degree of influence is beyond me.” Liberty said slurring a
little.
    “Liberty, are
you drunk?” asked Bea.
    “Oh yes.”
Liberty said.
    “Do you love
Apollo?” asked Bea catching Liberty off guard.
    “No, I don’t.
He’s cute but deranged” Liberty said “Although, he’s a good fuck
you know?”
    “I don’t.” Bea
said.
    “You don’t?
What, you’re still a virgin? No, don’t say it too loudly that’s
highly sort after amongst some of the less gentlemanly gods. I’d
screw you.”
    “Promise?”
asked Bea.
    “You can have
all the foresight in the universe but when presented with such a
god as Apollo. I turn into this, this puddle. It’s nine inches deep
and I drown in it. I don’t want to marry him. I’ve got to be smart.
He gets obsessions quite frequently but proposing marriage is
something quite else. In truth I’m worried. You see I have this
weak spot for poets or really any guy with low self-esteem and a
notebook. As does Glory, our taste in guys overlaps there. On top
of that Drunk Liberty is Sober Liberty’s worst enemy; she sabotages
Sober Liberty all the time like a sloppy Dr Jekyll. Gods I’m
snookered. I should have taken Glory’s advice and stayed away. Say
something pretty and tell me you love me and I’ll be yours.”
    “Say something
pretty and tell me you love me.” Bea said.
    “Oh Bea, you
are a funny bugger aren’t you.” Liberty said laughing as Glory and
Honour came back buzzing with another bottle of bloody tequila.
    “What did we
miss?” asked Honour, fully aware that they’d all stopped paying
attention to the pub quiz about forty minutes previously.
    “A fair
amount.” Bea said.
    “Geoff? Geoff?
What’s going on? Is it the scores yet? Did we win?” yelled
Glory.
    “Calm down you.
Now the quiz is out of 100. I’m going to announce the top three
first and then the team that came last, who are the winners of this
week’s booby prize. In third place was Quizted Sister, 83 points.
In second place was The Quizanthropes, 85 points and big round of
applause first place goes to The Quiztery Machine, 93 points, a
bottle of Blossom Hill for you.