by Mackenzi Lee
“Ha. See, you trust me.”
“Don’t test me.”
Loki knocked twice on Amora’s dressing room door before he pushed it open. She was sitting at the vanity, staring at herself in the mirror with her fingers pressed into her cheeks like she was making certain she was still there. “All right?” Loki asked her. “We’re nearly ready for you.”
She met his eyes in the mirror, and he was shocked to see tears there. Not the enormous pearls she had pulled out for Mrs. S. to prove how sorry she was, but a shine in her eyes she seemed to be desperately trying to fight.
Loki sank onto the stool beside her and took her hands. Somehow she felt more delicate than she had the last time he’d touched her, her skin thinner and her bones brittle beneath. She felt, for the first time in his memory, fragile. “What’s the matter?”
“Where will you take me when this is finished?” she asked, and her voice wobbled.
“Somewhere else.”
“Where?” she repeated, and her voice broke. “Is there anywhere else in this galaxy that will restore me to who I used to be? No matter what we do, I’ll never be whole again. I’ll never be myself again. I’m so tired. Loki, I’m so weak, I have so little left. I can’t survive like this much longer.”
Her voice was rising in panic, and he pressed her fingers to his lips gently. Her hands were shaking. “We’ll find somewhere. I promise, I won’t let you lose yourself.”
She turned to him suddenly, and in the darkness, the paint on her face made her look ghoulish, cheekbones sunken and eyes rimmed in dark smoke. “You could take me back to Asgard with you.”
“I wish I could.”
“Why can’t you?”
“How would we make it past the Bifrost?” he asked. “My father would never allow you back in his borders, let alone in his court. Neither will Karnilla.”
“But if you had control over both of them?” she said.
His hands slackened around hers. “I don’t understand.”
“If you were king, you could bring me back to Asgard.”
Anger rose inside him. “You know I can’t do anything about that.”
“You could—”
“No.”
“But you won’t.” Now it was her turn to press his hands between hers. A tear slid down her cheek, and she let it fall. “You’ve given up. You’re so determined to continue to cast yourself as the least-favored son that you’ve surrendered any choice you have in the matter.”
“Choice?” he repeated, his tone rising. “I don’t have a choice if my father names me his heir or not.”
She was standing now, wringing his hands between hers, then climbed onto his lap. Their faces were a breath apart. “If you love me—if you have ever cared for me—you would do everything you could to bring me home. To restore both our birthrights. Loki, I’m suffocating here. I’m dying. I never know which breath will be my last. I’m on the run because I sacrificed my life for yours. This should be you here in banishment—it could have been, but I gave myself for you.”
He looked away. “Don’t—”
She took his face in her hands and pulled him to her. “Please. I just want to go home. Is that so much to ask?”
“I’m not king—”
“But you could be. You should be. For you, and for me, and for Asgard. And if your father will not give it, you should take it.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to take the kingdom.”
“Why not?”
“I want to earn it. I want it given freely.”
“Freely by a fool.” She let her hands fall away from his face as she stood, stalking away from him and snatching her veil from the counter. “If there’s no other way because your father is too small-minded, what choice do you have?”
“That’s very villainous logic.”
“So maybe we’re villains.” She whirled on him, her veil fluttering at her side like she had grown wings. “Maybe there’s a reason people fear us.”
Loki mashed his fingers to his forehead. “I don’t want to have this conversation now. You have to do the show.”
“Of course. The show.” She swept her veil over her shoulder and pressed the comb into her hair, watching him. “The two of you are adorable, by the way.”
Loki raised his head. “What?”
“What happened to not growing fond?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She gave him a withering smile. “Please.”
“If I’ve grown anything, it’s bored,” he snapped. “And weary of this place.”
“But not weary of Mr. Bell.”
“We get on. Why does that matter to you? Are you jealous?”
“And what do you think he thinks of you?”
“I don’t think he’s fond, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“What do you think any of them think about you? Why do they follow you and doubt you? Why did they put you in chains when you first arrived? Have you looked at what your Mr. Bell is reading?”
“Why does it matter what he’s reading?” Loki asked.
“Believe me, darling. It matters.” She pressed herself against his chest, letting her fingers trail along his jawline. The tears that had been shining in her eyes when he’d arrived were gone, vanished so completely he wondered if they’d ever been there at all. “I’d have a look before you cut your heart from your chest and offer it to the humans. You are no more a hero to them than you are in Asgard. You never will be. It was written in their mythology long before they met you.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“You’re already the villain in everyone’s stories, Loki,” she replied, dropping her veil over her face. “Why not start playing your part?”
An eerie hush fell over the theatre as Amora took the stage, a quiet too absolute for such a large crowd. From the wings, Loki felt a shiver pass over him as he watched her cross the stage with slow, purposeful strides that seemed to take too much effort. Beside him, Theo fidgeted, flipping the lid of his pocket watch open and closed.
Amora gave the same speech she had when Loki came to her show. The same instructions about the thin veil between worlds, the admonition to the audience to open their hearts and invite the spirits to join them.
Loki was hardly listening. He was trying not to stare at Theo, trying not to interpret the distance between them, or the lack of it, or feel his skin quiver every time Theo shifted. He was not fond. Theo was certainly not fond of him. Amora was goading him. She was jealous—that must be it. He had found companionship on Earth in a week, while she had been banished here for years and seemed to have found nothing but loneliness. She was doing what she did best. And he would not be manipulated by her.
“Here we go,” Theo said softly, and Loki watched as Žydr·e Matulis took the stage alongside Amora. The setup was different this time. Simpler. Just two straight-backed chairs facing each other—Amora in one, Žydr·e in the other, and a small table between them for the talking board. Amora had rigged a mirror above the table so that the letters could be seen by the audience. Even from a distance, Loki could see Žydr·e’s hands shaking as she reached into her coat pocket and withdrew a ring.
“This belonged to your daughter?” Amora asked.
“Yes,” Žydr·e said quietly.
“And she is one of the bodies in the Southwark Morgue, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Not living, not dead.”
“We want to know what’s happened to her,” Žydr·e said. “Where she’s gone. If she’s gone. And if she can move on.”
Amora set the ring on the table and began to light the candles, digging into her speech again about her abilities to contact spirits who had passed from this life.
“Do you believe in any of this?” Loki asked Theo suddenly.
“Are you asking me if I’m a spiritualist, or if I believe in magic while I am literally standing next to an otherworldly god?”
&n
bsp; “I thought I was an alien. That’s what your name implies.”
“Like I said,” Theo replied, his eyes still on the stage. “We started with the acronym and worked backward.”
“I’ve been thinking about what you could call yourselves,” Loki said. “Instead of the SHARP Society, which may have sentimental value but I maintain is completely daft.”
“Who says we’re changing it?” Theo asked.
“What about the SWORD Society?”
“What does that stand for?”
Loki waved a hand. “You come up with that part—you started with SHARP and worked backward. I assume you’d be capable of such mental gymnastics again.”
Theo shook his head. “It’s sort of violent, don’t you think?”
“What about something protective then? What about SHIELD?”
“SHIELD?” Theo repeated. “You think SHARP is daft and you’re suggesting SHIELD?”
“I like SHIELD, because there’s an L in there, so you can work Loki into it.”
“Is that right?” Theo glanced at Loki, his lips twitching. “This society is now all about you, is it?”
“Of course,” Loki replied. “It may have only been a week, but believe me, you’ll never be the same now that we’ve met.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Theo said, turning back to the stage to hide his smile. Loki felt his heart stall, and he almost stepped away from Theo without knowing why.
“What do you wish to ask her?” he heard Amora say onstage.
Loki glanced through the curtains. Žydr·e and Amora both had their hands on the planchette, over the talking board. In the reflection in the mirror, he could see it was resting on the word HELLO.
Žydr·e was crying silently, the tears on her cheeks turning her skin to porcelain in the stage lights. “Is it really you?” she choked. “Molly Rose, is it you?”
The planchette jerked across the board to the opposite corner. Žydr·e gasped, her hands dragged with it as it landed over the word YES.
Žydr·e was quiet for a long time, her throat pulsing with the effort of holding back sobs. The whole theatre was silent. Beside him, Loki heard Theo catch his breath.
“Does this...” Žydr·e said at last. “Does this mean you...Are you dead?”
The planchette did not move. Loki could see Amora’s shoulders were tight. She was using a spell to move the planchette around the board, but it seemed to be taking more out of her than he had thought it would. How weak had she become these last few days without human energy?
YES.
“Can you be returned to us?” Žydr·e asked, her voice pitching with desperation. She was half standing now, her fingers pressed against the planchette with such force her knuckles were white. Loki feared it might snap beneath her.
The planchette moved again.
NO.
“Are you at peace?” Žydr·e whispered.
A pause. Then, YES.
Žydr·e’s head dropped, her shoulders shaking. “I’m sorry we sent you out to the market alone. I should have walked with you. I should have given you a warmer coat. I should have mended the holes in your boots long ago and let you wear your hair in curls to that dance—”
“It must be a question,” Amora interrupted.
Žydr·e nodded, her whole body swaying. “Do you forgive me?” she said quietly.
The planchette did a slow circle around the board. Then settled back on top of YES.
“Liars!” someone shouted from the audience. Loki peered out from behind the curtain, Theo at his side.
“Oh God,” Theo muttered. “It’s her.”
Rachel Bowman was in the crowd, on her feet and screaming, partly at Amora and Žydr·e, partly at the rest of the assembled audience. “She’s a fraud with no real power! She’s trying to make you a murderer! You’ll murder your own daughter!”
“Fraud?” Amora stood up and stalked to the edge of the stage. Loki felt his stomach drop. Let it go, he thought desperately, wishing she could hear him. Ignore her, it doesn’t matter. But it was too late. “You think I have no power?” Amora called.
“You’re a cheat like the rest of them!” Rachel shouted, then she turned to the assembled audience. “She’s asking you to kill your children! Your families! Your husbands and wives! Just so this city can be rid of them!”
“Let me show you power, you foolish human.” Amora started forward, but Loki dashed onto the stage, seizing her by the arm and pulling her back. “It doesn’t matter.”
Something flew through the air and smashed across the stage at their feet, splattering them both. Someone had thrown a rotten cabbage and it was now oozing over the boards. Amora’s face hardened, and she kicked the cabbage back at the audience. The front rows flinched with a scream as it burst against her boot. “How dare you!”
The audience was in disarray now, half trying to get to the doors, the other half being trampled by those trying to exit. Policemen were fighting their way down the aisles, trying to find Rachel Bowman in the chaos, but the crowd had swallowed her. Theo was escorting the now-sobbing Žydr·e offstage, one arm around her shoulders.
Loki felt Amora test his strength, but he held firm. “Let it go. It’s finished, you did what we needed.”
“Powerless,” Amora spat, trying to rip her arm from his grip. “She thinks I’m powerless. Let me show her what power looks like.”
“Amora, stop.” He yanked her into him, pulling her against his chest. “She’s no one,” he said quietly. “She doesn’t know anything.”
He felt Amora’s muscles tense, and he thought she might try and tear herself away from him again. But then she relaxed, sinking against him so that he wasn’t sure if he was holding her or holding her up.
“You’re right,” she said, her voice breathy. “She’s no one.”
The police cleared the club and shut it down for the evening, but the patrons still roamed the street outside like restless ghosts. Žydr·e had been given an escort home by Detective Ashford, and Amora was in her dressing room with Gem guarding the door to prevent any protestors from harassing her, or other distraught families begging for help.
“That didn’t go quite as expected,” Theo said as he and Loki sat in the deserted barroom, waiting for Mrs. S. as she tried to talk sense to the club owner, who was furious that the place had been emptied while so many patrons still had open bar tabs. “Do you have any idea how much that bloody living-dead draught costs us?” Loki heard him shout.
“Did you speak to Žydr·e before she left?” he asked Theo.
Theo shook his head. “But Mrs. S. mentioned the autopsy to her. I don’t know what she’ll decide about it. If she says no, we find some other way to get the bodies out of the city and stop this plague, I suppose.” He sighed, his breath ruffling the curls hanging low on his forehead. “Are you going to take Amora away tonight?”
“I think Mrs. S. will want us to stay until the bodies are in the ground,” Loki said. “And it may take some time to contact my father.”
“What about the water?” Theo asked. “He gave us a way to find him when we needed help.”
Loki considered, for a moment, telling him that Odin clearly didn’t care whether or not he missed messages from the SHARP Society delivered via the washbasin, but he didn’t have the heart. How could he tell Theo how little they mattered to Odin when they had given their lives in service to him?
“He’s likely still away from the court,” Loki said.
“Ah, yes.” Theo folded his hands on the bar. “Looking for the lost amplifiers. Perhaps you’ll have to wake Heimdall from his nap, then.” When Loki didn’t reply, Theo prompted, “Where will you take her?”
“There are a lot of places in the Nine Realms where she can’t do any damage. Any accidental damage,” he added.
“I believe the word you’re looking for is collateral.”
He glanced over at Theo, and Theo smiled. Even in the bare light of the empty barroom, his eyes were bright, dancing with sharp curiosity. T
his world had given him a thousand reasons to walk away from it, but he had stayed. He had stayed because there was work to be done.
Amora’s words rang in Loki’s ears. What happened to not growing fond? The way she had said it made it feel like a weakness, like she was chiding him for missing a shot on the archery range or forgetting the sequence of the Asgardian kings.
He hadn’t grown fond. Had he?
Theo was still watching him, and Loki couldn’t let those bright eyes take any more of him than he’d already given them. He stood up, nearly knocking over his stool in his haste. “I’m going to go talk to Amora.”
Theo reached for his cane hanging off the bar. “Let me come.”
“No!” Loki said too quickly, and Theo froze. Loki took a deep breath, trying to loosen the sudden tightness in his chest. “I’m not plotting the destruction of the Earth with her,” he said, trying to infuse his voice with light sincerity. “I just want to see if she needs anything. Food or a drink. And make certain she’s all right. It was a difficult night.”
Theo stared at him, teeth working over his lip. His hand was still resting on the top of his cane.
“I’ll be right back,” Loki said. “Tell Mrs. S. if she asks.”
Theo nodded. “All right.”
Gem was still standing guard at the door to Amora’s dressing room, but when Loki reached for the handle he said, “She’s gone out.”
Loki stopped. “What?”
“Said she needed some air. Put on her coat and left.”
He had no idea where she would have gone. Or why. There was no reason for her to leave. And he’d told her to wait for him. He’d asked her to stay. “Which way did she go?” he demanded.
Gem shrugged. “Not sure. The road behind the theatre goes down to the water, though. She may be there. You never said not to let her out,” he said indignantly. “Just to keep people away.”
“Yes, well, I assumed you capable of picking up implications.” Gem looked like he was about to ask for the definition of implications, but Loki cut him off. “If you see Mrs. S. or Theo, don’t tell them Amora’s gone.”
