Ms America and the Whoopsie in Winona by Diana Dempsey Read Free Book Online Page A

arms. “The name means lady. She is one of the pre-eminent goddesses of the Norse pantheon. A high-ranking member of the tribe of deities known as the Vanir.”
    Trixie’s features twist in confusion. “Why would Ingrid have a shrine to this Freyja?”
    “Because she was a worshipper! Like so many women drawn to Freyja’s wisdom and her pursuit of passionate fulfillment in life. I believe no heathen goddess is so loved, and so misunderstood, as Freyja. She is incredibly complex.” Priscilla eyes us dubiously. “Too complex for many to understand.”
    I watch Trixie’s eyes widen with every word Priscilla utters. Pantheon. Tribe. Vanir.
    Heathen.
    “Are you a worshipper, too?” Shanelle wants to know.
    Priscilla lowers her voice. “I have been known to participate in the honor rituals. They’re celebrated every Friday the 13 th .”
    That’s coming around again in just a few days. “All right,” I say. “Show us Ingrid’s shrine.” This I’ve got to see.
    With a triumphant spin, Priscilla makes a beeline for the library. Either she’s a fantastic actress or she really does know her way around Damsgard. This is yet another spectacular room with gorgeous floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a formidable antique desk with elaborate carvings. The Christmas tree in the corner is bedecked with red ornaments and ribbons; Santas perch on the steps of the rolling bookshelf ladder; and holiday stockings dangle from the fireplace mantel.
    “I don’t see a shrine in here,” Shanelle says.
    Priscilla raises a silencing hand in our direction. She can’t seem to tear her eyes from the oil painting that hangs above the mantel. It features brightly colored sailboats tearing around on what looks like a stormy sea. I’m no art expert but I’d describe it as impressionistic.
    Finally she abandons the painting and walks to the bookshelves in the corner by the Christmas tree. I don’t see what she does but presto!—the shelves swing back to reveal a secret room.
    We three queens gasp. “It’s just like in the movies!” Trixie cries.
    Priscilla flings us an exultant look. “I told you I knew my way around Damsgard.” She flounces into the secret room and you can bet we immediately follow.
    It’s a small windowless room and, yes, there is a shrine inside. Well, more of an altar really, draped in crimson and forest green fabric that crashes to the oriental carpet. On top of it are arrayed several tall gold vases holding stalks of wheat. I also note sprigs of dill and small sculptures of animals. A cat, a bird, and—
    “What’s this?” I hold up a gray stone sculpture that looks like a fat, hairy pig with a prominent snout.
    “That’s a boar.” Priscilla takes it from my hand and returns it to the altar. “Occasionally Freyja rides a boar. Sometimes a falcon.”
    Shanelle guffaws. “I thought you were going to say she sometimes turns into one.”
    Priscilla narrows her eyes. “Freyja has been known to shape shift. It is her choice whether to fly, ride an animal, or be carried in a chariot drawn by felines.”
    I guess that’s where the cats come in. “What’s this?” I hold up a palm-sized uneven chunk of translucent golden stone.
    Priscilla removes that, too, from my hand. “Freyja is associated with amber. As legend goes, she received a fantastic necklace of amber by sleeping with four dwarves on four succeeding nights.”
    Wow. I guess that’s how Freyja found that “passionate fulfillment” that Priscilla referred to. Personally, if I went in for that sort of thing, I would prefer taller men. But to each her own.
    “Amber has been meaningful to many over the centuries,” Priscilla tells us. “It has been found in Egyptian tombs and was even used as currency among the Assyrians and the Phoenicians.” Priscilla gazes at each of us in turn. “It is sometimes called ‘the jewel whose power cannot be resisted.’ ”
    I shiver, hearing that. All this is freaking me out. It’s so far removed from my