Monsters, magic, and homemaking collide in Book 4 of the Convergence Series. When Fern takes a job with a clan of ice giant bachelors, she brings more than elbow grease to the table—she just might save their home, their hearts, and possibly the chickens.

 

The Ice Giant’s Housekeeper

The Convergence had changed their world. Years ago, Earth and the fabled elven world had melded, causing earthquakes, raising sunken islands and unleashing monsters. The catastrophic disaster disrupted every facet of transportation, agriculture and caused widespread death. When the shaken citizens of both worlds finally sorted things out, roads got fixed, farms and factories started to produce, and oil and natural gas once more fueled the nations. The world ran on a mix of magic and science, allowing dragons to rule the skies and satellites to dominate space.

These days, resources were focused on infrastructure, communications, manufacture and monster control. Meat and animal products were especially rationed. It took a lot of manpower to protect herds of animals and helpless, delicious chickens from hungry monsters. WW2 memorabilia and rationing posters were back in circulation, as people were encouraged to “grow your own” and “have a monster garden”. Etsy sold framed posters of Rosie the Riveter, people were encouraged to “made do and mend”, and homemaking was a full-time job again.

Which is why Hakon and his brothers were struggling. Women were naturally superior at homemaking; at least Fern thought so.

Fern’s apartment is wreaked by monsters and she’s fired the next day. With nowhere to go, she’s grateful to accept any job...even if it’s working for a family of ice giant bachelors. They’re nice enough, if dreadful slobs. Thankfully, it’s nothing a fire hose and elbow grease won’t clean.

A member of Fire & Rescue, Hakon doesn’t have time to breathe, much less clean. Not only is the new housekeeper a talented cook, she makes his house a home. She also comes with unexpected magical talents...

American pie and monsters. Ice giant cattle ranchers and goblin bankers. Murderously protective magical geese and a very talented housekeeper.

 

Novella. Contains no graphic love scenes. 

Expect reasonable amounts of gore as monster heads explode and plenty of action.

 

✨Read a sample now:

CHAPTER 1

Fern finished blending the soap and removed her stick blender from the bowl of emulsified fat and homemade lye. She hummed along with the radio as she poured the soap into the greased wooden mold. After it set but before it was hard, she would slice it into bars and let it finish curing for a few weeks.

She took the mold and carefully stepped down from the stool behind the tall kitchen counter. At 5’8”, she was hardly short, at least by human standards, but this wasn’t a human household.

The laundry room was right off the kitchen, and she placed the soap on a low shelf next to the cleaning supplies. The shelves ran all the way to the ten foot ceiling, but she didn’t feel like climbing the ladder.

It was time to start on lunch, so she moved the stool to the stainless steel sink and started scrubbing enough potatoes to fill the five gallon stock pot for creamy potato soup.

It took a lot of soup to feed a family of frost giants.

The snow was January thick, and the thermometer outside read -40 F, typical for North Dakota. It didn’t bother her here in the warm kitchen, though. She could see the hay barn stuffed full of giant round bales, food for the goats, sheep and cattle her bosses owned. The goat shed was directly in front of the window, so she could see her boss, Embla, pitching hay to the goats and knocking ice out of the water bins. Dressed in nothing more than suede pants, boots and a gray t-shirt, the seven foot giantess wasn’t at all bothered by the cold. Her long blond hair was braided, and she wore an ax strapped to her back, within easy reach. Bare handed, she pulled the metal bound gate closed and latched it, unconcerned with the frosty metal’s bite.

Fern caught a glimpse of her face in the triple pane windows and checked to make sure her hair was still mostly tamed by her own braid. The wild curls would never be perfect, but at least they stayed out of her face with this style. The freckles she could do nothing about.

Embla’s feet stomped snow off outside before she breezed in. She toed her boots off and padded across the hardwood floor. “Snow coming. Good, you started the soup.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Embla opened the industrial steel fridge and polished off a quart of fresh raw goat’s milk straight from the jar. Embla took care of her precious goats herself, preferring the outside work, but Fern filtered the milk for her and made cheese, just as Embla had taught her.

She also made the household bread, pickles, kombucha and almost all the meals. She loved the kitchen work, loved tasting the delicious food she created. She was constantly reading, learning new recipes and techniques to expand her knowledge.

If she could have lived here, life would have been nearly perfect.

Sadly, her apartment was in the city, less than ten miles away, but worlds apart. She couldn’t see how her dream of having her own country home would ever work out, despaired of meeting a man who shared her vision, but she was grateful for the job that let her have a piece of it.

The radio buzzed with an important weather announcement. Snow was supposed to start by early afternoon and become a blizzard. School would be dismissed early.

Embla grunted. “You’ll have to take the bus home early, then. Probably run late in the morning, too. Figures. I was going to make beer tomorrow, too! Now I’ll have to cook breakfast.” She scowled at the big basket of eggs on the counter. Embla was a good cook, but she’d rather be outdoors with her animals.

There was nothing she could do about it, so Fern stayed silent. She would have happily stayed the night on the couch and got up early to cook, but Embla’s seventeen year old son was a flirt. He was way too young for Fern, who was twenty-four, but Embla would never stand for the human to stay overnight. She was taking no chances; a human female was not suitable for her son.

Fern didn’t take it personally. Embla wanted the best for her boy. In her world, marrying a human was literally marrying down. Who wanted short grandchildren? Embla’s parents were both nine foot plus, and Embla was considered petite (she had a bit of a complex about it). She’d never hear the end of it if her grandkids were puny and weak.

Fern had heard Embla’s mother’s deep alto voice (she was a loud talker) through the phone often enough to sympathize. How could such a booming voice sound shrill?

Kory, Embla’s son, stomped off the snow on the porch a little past one PM as Fern was cleaning up the lunch dishes from Embla and her husband.

Seventeen, dark blond, 7’ 9”, Kory was decent looking, with hands and feet that promised more growth to come. He grinned at Fern and sniffed the air. “Smells like good things cooking.”

She smiled back and set out a big bowl, fresh bread and utensils. “Creamy potato soup with bacon. Here’s the shredded cheese.”

“Awesome! I’m starving.” He wolfed it down, followed by two more.

“They let you out early,” his mom remarked from her loom. Although she had her sheep’s wool commercially carded and spun, she enthusiastically wove and knit. She also used the tanned hides to make pants and such for her family, producing most of the textiles for her household. She’d even made a couple of pairs of pants for Fern, amused at the tiny size.

Sadly, Fern wasn’t as talented with fiber arts, but she couldn’t be good at everything. Besides, she more than made up for it in the kitchen.

“Yeah. They’re warning of storm hags,” Kory said.

Fern froze with her hands in the dishwater. She’d turned the radio off after the storm warning, figuring she was up to date. Quiet time was expensive today.

Embla paused in her weaving. She put on her boots and went outside. Fern watched her take a deep breath, sampling the air. Giants were sensitive to all things winter, and had good warning systems for danger. When she came back in, her face was grave. “Leave the dishes. I’ll drive you home.”

She’d never offered to do that before.

Fern rinsed the last plate, dried her hands and gathered her stuff. She was already wearing long underwear beneath her leather pants and crochet sweater, so she traded her slippers for wool socks, another sweater, scarf, coat, trapper hat and gloves. She had snow pants and heavier lambskin mittens in her duffle bag just in case, but riding in Embla’s truck wouldn’t be as cold as the bus. More than once, she’d seen her breath on the bus, and it was supposed to be equipped with two heaters.

Last, she strapped on a thigh holster. In warmer weather she preferred a shoulder holster, but there was no quick way to access it under her layers, and it was necessary with all the monsters about.

Not that it would be any help against a storm hag.

She brooded as she looked out the window of the truck. Snow berms rose high on either side of the road, making a sea of bumpy white broken by the occasional farm house. Most wild things, natural and otherwise, would be burrowed down for the coming storm.

Most things.

Storm hags were dingy gray, like dirty snow. Particularly violent blizzards brought them, riding storm winds like howling banshees, clawing anyone exposed to shreds, leaving frozen corpses behind.

Stone, metal and thick wood were proof against them, wards even better. Unfortunately, as Embla pulled up in front of Fern’s stone apartment building, she was reminded that her building didn’t have good wards. Everyone knew the ward was weak and old, but their landlord ignored the complaints. As long as the monster rats were kept out, he was satisfied.

“Good, thick walls,” Embla said, surveying the building grimly. There was just a hint of doubt on her face. “You’ll be fine.”

“Yes. Thank you,” Fern said quietly, gathering her things.

Embla hesitated. “If there’s a problem, an emergency, you call.”

They both knew there was nothing Embla could do, but it was a nice gesture. Fern smiled, a little warmed. “Thank you.”

Wind blasted her as she exited the cab, a light dusting of flakes hitting her face. “Drive careful.” She hesitated and added mischievously, “Stay warm.”

Embla guffawed and shut the door. As if a frost giant would ever worry about that.

Fern unlocked the door to the foyer and let herself in, grateful for the warm air. Her mailbox was empty, so she turned to trudge up three flights of stairs (the elevator was still, as always, broken).

Her neighbor Jason was there, smiling. “Hi, Fern.” Lanky, greasy and awkward, Jason was tall, but had a perpetual slouch. He also had a creepy habit of following her around. He’d obviously been waiting for her.

“Hi,” she said warily. She put her hand inside her coat pocket and touched her new taser. It had been bought with him in mind.

He shuffled his feet. “I just wanted to say, you must be scared living alone sometimes. You know, with monsters and stuff. If you ever need someone to protect you, I’m always around.”

“Thanks,” she said, edging past him. “That’s really nice of you.”

She bolted up the stairs, fatigue forgotten. Thankfully, he didn’t follow her. She unlocked her

tiny apartment and bolted the door behind her.

He was right about one thing: it was scary living alone sometimes, because sometimes humans were the monsters.

Not that he’d done more than follow her around so far...and leave unwanted gifts at her door. It was enough, and she was careful to avoid him when possible. She blew out a breath and patted the locked door, trusting in its safety.

Leaving her bag by the door and shedding layers, she hung them up on hooks and gratefully sat on her bed...the only place to sit in the small space.

It was clean, with just enough room for a tiny bathroom, micro closet and a mini fridge stacked with a microwave, coffee maker and hot plate. There were shelves with minimal cooking supplies, but that was it. She didn’t even have a TV.

At least it was affordable, and safe...usually.

After her shower, she curled up in long johns and socks under the covers and tried to focus on the newest book she’d downloaded on her tablet. Maybe she should have a snack. She had food in the fridge, things Embla insisted she take home. Embla considered a lot of human food sub-par, improperly prepared and likely to cause weakness. She didn’t want her kitchen help getting sick, because it would mean she’d have to do her own dishes.

The wind was picking up, rattling the iron shutters, and she could hear the faintest trace of a moan.

She gave up and got dressed. She checked her emergency bag, tucked her tablet, charger and a water bottle inside just in case. Maybe it was silly. It wasn’t like she could run outside with storm hags on the rampage. The sensible thing was to hunker down and…

A tremendous blow rocked the building.

Fern yelped and instinctively ducked. Heart racing, she listened and...another deafening blow rattled her shutters. The glass cracked.

Fern threw on her winter boots and coat, grabbed her bug out bag and phone and raced into the hallway. Others were stumbling out of their rooms, some less dressed than she. They were struggling into coats, clutching whatever they could grab. Didn’t anyone read the readiness bulletins the government put out? Monsters had been causing havoc for years. Everyone knew it was smart to have a bag of emergency supplies.

“Fern! Wait for me!” Jason was down the hall, pushing people aside as he fought to get near her.

She hurried down the hall, dodging people. She didn’t want him to catch up.

Another blow cracked the wall. A ceiling panel broke loose, striking her shoulder. She cried out and bolted down the stairs, grabbing the loosened handrail. The stairs were buckling, making her heart jump. A fast look back showed Jason trapped behind others shoving their way down the stairs.

She reached the trashed lobby only to find people kicking the jammed front door. Everyone was cursing and crying, the lights flickering…

“Back door!” a man yelled, then darted away.

Fern followed, relieved to find the emergency exit door open, blasting cold air.

Two others followed her into the street and then the front of her building collapsed, crushing those left inside.

The next twenty minutes were a blur. She had vague memories of running, her lungs freezing, people dying around her as hags dropped from the sky. Vengeful monster shrieks pierced her eardrums like ice shards, amplifying the pain and terror.

Somehow she ended up in a bar, pulled into the warded space by brave patrons who let her in. Men with shotguns and rifles guarded the door, and there was the deafening boom of gunfire. “Got one!” a man crowed, and another slammed the door shut. Firing indoors was unwise, as it could destroy hearing.

Details were blurry, but Fern was ushered to a table and huddled in a chair, shivering from adrenaline. Her legs were cold but she was sweating under her coat from the run.

The bar had soft lighting, but was very clean. The place smelled faintly of damp wool, a pleasant whiff of beer and wood smoke.

“Drink it,” the bar owner said shortly, pushing a hot honeyed whiskey toward her. He was middle aged and wore a hat to cover his bald head. “You need it.”

Shivering, Fern obediently took a sip, barely grimacing at the taste. The radio began an emergency announcement. “Quiet! Turn it up!” Someone yelled.

Her building had been attacked by a kefir monster, a giant construct of kefir-like water crystals and rocks. The storm hags, formerly thought not to be very intelligent, had driven the monster at the building, then shredded those who’d run out into the storm. Fire and Rescue had killed the beast, and they were trying to find survivors in the rubble.

Her home was completely destroyed.

Embla. She needed to call Embla. She stared at her phone for a moment before she remembered how to dial.

Embla picked up on the second ring. “Yes? Fern?”

“I...my apartment. It...it’s gone,” Fern mumbled, still numb.

“What do you mean? What happened?”

“Can I talk to her? Thank you,” the barkeep said, accepting the phone. He summed up the situation, adding, “We’re keeping an eye on her. She’s pretty shook up.” He nudged the toddy, and Fern took another sip.

Arrangements were made. It was too dangerous to go outside, so Fern crashed on a cot in the office, sleeping fitfully. Embla came and got her at first light. Fern crashed on Embla’s couch, too tired and sad to resist sleep.

***

Jason was pissed. Everything that could have gone wrong, had. He’d been trapped on second floor behind a sea of panicked people as Fern ran off. He’d barely escaped with his life, and the night had ended in disaster.

For all he knew, Fern might be dead. So much for all his perfect plans.

But if she wasn’t dead… He reached down and petted the sleeping monster at his feet. If she wasn’t dead, he would get another chance to impress her. Next time, he wouldn’t fail.

2

She woke up late that morning, roused by voices. It took a few seconds to remember why she was on Embla’s couch. She took a moment to feel sorry for herself, then got up, wincing at her sore shoulder.

Embla’s husband and son were deep in conversation with their neighbor, Hakon. Nearly seven feet tall, he was on the short side for a giant, but he had the wide jaw and shoulders. He wasn’t Fern’s type, but he was attractive in the way of strong, dominant men, with short brown hair and green eyes. He’d been over a few times in the years Fern had worked there, but she didn’t recall him ever showing up for mid-morning snacks. What was it he did? Fire and Rescue?

“Good morning,” Kory said, offering a smile. “Do you want some barley tea?” His smile faded as she got a stool and gingerly sat at the small end table she used to eat. If she climbed onto the giant size chair at the tall table, her feet dangled like a child. “You’re hurt.”

“A ceiling tile fell on my shoulder. It’s just sore,” she said wearily, accepting the human sized mug of roasted barley tea. Regular tea with honey was okay, but this was her favorite.

Embla handed her a plate of honey buttered sourdough bread to go with it. She must feel bad. She wasn’t usually this attentive. It made Fern feel uneasy. “Thanks.”

There was an awkward silence. Embla hid behind her tea, grim with guilt. If she'd let Fern stay last night…

Not that Fern blamed her. She couldn't have known. Conversation resumed as Fern ate, but there was a sense of things yet to be said.

Hakon waited until she’d finished her meal, and then said, “I’d like to offer you a job.”

Fern’s eyes flew to Embla, who said nothing.

Hakon continued, “We thought we could handle the house in shifts, keep on top of things, but that didn’t work out. We need someone to cook, clean and take over the grocery shopping.”

It was a job offer. Usually that was a positive thing, but Fern had just had her world upturned. This proposed change was a shock. Her apartment was destroyed, along with most of her possessions. Her shoulder was a deep ache, her mind still unsettled from her brush with death.

“You...don’t need me anymore?” she asked Embla, bewildered. There’d been no warning. Was Embla unhappy with her work? She’d never indicated as much.

Embla scowled. “You’re a good worker, but Hakon will pay you more. You’ll be mistress of the house, at least until he gets married. It’s a step up.” She sighed and admitted, “A friend of mine has asked me to apprentice her niece. The girl lost her parents, and my friend already has a houseful of daughters to train.” She glanced furtively at her son.

Suddenly Fern understood. Embla was matchmaking.

Fern had a bad moment. She was an easy going woman, but for a moment, just a moment…

Her vision blurred, but she clamped down on the feeling before it could erupt. Now was not the time. She had to survive first. She desperately needed a job and a safe place to stay. Embla didn’t have to employ anyone she didn’t want to. Just because Fern had suddenly lost her home and most of her things…

When had she planned to tell Fern? What had happened to two weeks notice? Was she so worried about Fern seducing her son that she wouldn’t let Fern stay one night?

Yes, obviously. Fern’s shoulders slumped. She realized she was a little dizzy and took a deep breath.

She needed a place to stay, and begging Embla to keep her on was foolish. The decision had been made. No doubt Embla had the plan in place for some time.

It was just...a little warning would have been nice.

Fern clamped down on the fear and anger. She could look for another job later, but right now, this was her best option.

“We really can use the help,” Hakon said earnestly. He clearly saw her distress, because he was trying to make it better. “Since our mother died, it’s just me and my four brothers. We’re so busy with our jobs and keeping up with the herd, no one has time for the house. It’s a wreck. You’ll be fully in charge of the kitchen, and we badly need someone to help with the goats and chickens. My youngest brother’s been doing it, but he’s not very reliable about milking.”

The Convergence had changed their world. Years ago, Earth and the fabled elven world had melded, causing earthquakes, raising sunken islands and unleashing monsters. The catastrophic disaster disrupted every facet of transportation and agriculture, and caused widespread death. When the shaken citizens of both worlds finally sorted things out, roads got fixed, farms and factories started to produce and oil and natural gas once more fueled the nations. The world ran on a mix of magic and science, allowing dragons to rule the skies and satellites to dominate space.

Once, people could simply go to a grocery store and buy whatever they needed. Chicken was a common and cheap meal for the masses. Now, there was an occasional sale on monster meat, whenever the edible sort had been slain, but it had unpredictable side effects. A herd of magically warped buffalo had attacked downtown once, resulting in a bonanza of meat in the grocery store. Mostly that had worked out, but the occasional diner suffered from persistent and explosive diarrhea.

Buyer beware.

These days, government and industrial resources were focused on infrastructure, communications, manufacture and monster control. Meat and animal products were especially rationed. It took a lot of manpower to protect herds of animals and helpless, delicious chicken from hungry monsters, making the birds a true delicacy.

WW2 memorabilia and rationing posters were back in circulation, as people were encouraged to “grow your own” and “have a monster garden”. Etsy sold framed posters of Rosie the Riveter, people were encouraged to “make do and mend”, and homemaking was a full time job, the house a productive mini factory of handcrafted goods.

Which is why Hakon and his brothers were struggling. Women were naturally superior at homemaking; at least Fern thought so. Didn’t mean they couldn’t do other jobs, just meant they knocked it out of the park on the home front. The ability to shoot and fix tractors if needed was a definite bonus.

Fern cleared her throat. She didn’t know him well, but Hakon had a good reputation. Maybe this could work.

“How old is your younger brother?”

“Twelve. He’s a bit of a rascal.”

She hesitated. Homemaking was one thing. Childcare was another. She’d have to specify that she wasn’t responsible for the kid, just feeding him. If she wasn’t careful, they’d expect all kinds of extras. “I’ve only milked a couple of times.”

“We’ll show you what to do. Embla says you make good cheese.”

“You can call me with any questions,” Embla was quick to offer. “I’ll even come over and take a look at the goats, give you some pointers.”

“Ok,” Fern said. What else could she do? “But I want our terms in writing.”

“Of course. Anything you want. Within reason,” Hakon added hastily. He looked relieved. “You’ll be a huge help.”

He looked at Embla. “And thanks, Embla. We owe you one.”

Embla smirked. Clearly she thought everything was settled. She wouldn’t be able to gloat if she had much of a guilty conscience. “I’ll collect.”

Fern had just been sold out.

Embla saw Fern’s expression and sobered. “Then again, you actually owe Fern. For a little human, she’s actually a hard worker. She’ll have you organized in no time.”

It wasn’t an apology, because Embla clearly felt she’d done the right thing. Like an unwanted dog, Fern had just been disposed of.