by Unknown
She nodded.
‘I’m Loki.’
‘Oh, I know who you are, Loki, Laufey’s son.’
His eyebrows climbed, with a bit of a swagger. ‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. You used to go to Jotunn, too. But they kicked you out.’
Loki looked wounded. ‘Kicked me out? No, no. I transferred to Asgard.’
‘Someone must have pulled some very long strings.’
‘So, they still talk about me over there?’
‘They certainly do.’
‘Glad to hear it. That’s what counts, isn’t it?’
‘You say that as if it’s anything to be boasted about?’
‘Why wouldn’t it be?’
‘Have you forgotten Angrboda?’
He raised both hands, palms out. ‘Now, she dumped me.’
‘She tells it differently.’
‘Yeah, well, she would.’
‘And what about the time you stole our mascot during the big game at Hrimthurs Wall?’
‘You can’t claim that’s why your team lost. We were kicking your butts anyway. The mascot thing was only a … a prank.’
A squirrel ran halfway down the tree trunk, chattered something obscene, then scampered to safety as Loki shot it a warning look.
Skadi watched it go, and did a mild double-take at the sight of several other animals up in the branches. An eagle with a hawk on its head, weird enough; but three or four stags? She shook her head, focused on the ground, and took a reflexive step back at the sight of a nest of snakes writhing around in the roots and puddles beside a leaking sprinkler head.
‘Don’t listen to that little snot,’ Loki said. ‘You want a drink or something? I’ll introduce you around.’ He did the hair-flick again, and the grin, and Skadi did have to admit, he was far from unattractive.
She reminded herself that he was also nothing but trouble. He’d known who she was. Could he also know why she was here? If she walked into a trap...
If she walked into a trap, then she walked into a trap. And on their dishonourable heads be the shame.
Loki stubbed out his smoke and tossed it into the rainbow gravel. ‘Come on in.’
‘Out of curiosity,’ Skadi said as they went through the gate, ‘how did you steal our mascot? That horse is a monster! Nobody can get near him.’
‘I … have my ways,’ Loki said, reddening.
‘Tell me,’ she urged.
He coughed, rubbing fitfully at the nape of his neck. ‘Trust me, snow-bunny, you don’t want to know.’
Before she could further press the matter, two guys and a girl ambled around the corner of the house.
The girl was gorgeous in a carefree, natural way that put all Skadi’s careful preparations to shame, with flowing hair, limpid eyes, a lush figure swaying unrestrained in a loose and gauzy gown. She wore chunky jewellery of amber and ivory, and not a bit of makeup. A fluffy cat, striped and indolent, nestled purring in her arms.
One of the guys resembled her enough to be her twin, complete with similar clunky jewellery and a shoulder-length wavy mane. Homespun cotton pants rested dangerously low on his hips and suggested rather strongly that he didn’t bother with other, more restrictive garments either. Or shoes. His eyes smouldered half-lidded, his mouth was a ripe sensualist’s, and a cute little gold-bristled pot-bellied pig trotted snuffling at his bare heels.
Ah well, she’d seen stranger things, and had a feeling the night was far from over yet.
‘Hi, Loki,’ said the girl. She had a whispery, half-sultry and half-dreamy voice.
‘Yo, dude,’ the guy added, his voice the male equivalent of hers. ‘Who’s the lady?’
‘Freya, Freyr. This is Skadi.’
Freya extended a slim hand, bracelets clinking. ‘Your aura is so blue … not just any blue but glacial … so clean, so clear.’
‘Nice to meet you. Real pleasure.’ Freyr also extended his hand.
‘Thanks.’ Skadi briefly touched them both and felt a warm, almost dizzying, rush from each.
The other guy with them, some scrawny underclassman, stood there awkwardly with a basket of freshly unearthed mushrooms. Or maybe truffles.
Loki leaned in to inspect the basket’s contents, then gave Freyr an approving thumb’s-up. ‘Looks like Gullinbursti sniffed out a good crop, there.’
‘Only the best, dude. Only the best.’
‘Hey, is that a ship in your pocket, or are you just glad to see us?’ Loki asked Freyr.
‘Old joke, man,’ he said.
‘But funny every time.’
‘So say you,’ said Freya, petting the cat. She smiled at Skadi. ‘Are Jotunn boys as shameless as these?’
‘Pretty much,’ Skadi said.
Freyr started, losing a portion of his lazy cool. ‘Jotunn? You got to Jotunn High? Whoa … oh wow … do you know Gerdr?’
‘Yeah,’ Skadi replied. ‘Why?’
‘Oh wow, oh man, dude.’ He swiped his hair back from his temples, where beadlets of sweat suddenly glistened.
Freya sighed, not un-sympathetically, and touched her brother’s wrist. ‘Would you just talk to her already? The crystals aren’t going to get any more favourable.’
‘Talk to her?’ For someone not wearing a shirt, Freyr did a good job of trying to loosen his collar, gulping. ‘I can’t … I mean … I mean whoa … she’s so, like … so foxy and…’
‘Wait, wait, wait,’ said Loki. ‘What’s this? Freyr has the jitters? Over a girl? Freyr? Freyr-the-Playr? You’re kidding me. You’ve dated half the babes at Asgard, half of them at least.’
‘This time it’s different,’ Freyr said. ‘Ever since I saw her, I just … dude … but whenever I think about trying to talk to her, I … whoa…’
‘Well, you can’t keep on gazing at her from afar, mooning and moping, driving past her house and following her to the mall,’ said Freya.
‘Mmm, stalkery,’ Loki remarked.
Freyr groaned. ‘I know, I know. But what if she, like, shot me down? What if she’s seeing someone? I don’t know what I’d do. I’d … dude, die or something. I mean, it’d be a seriously major bummer.’
‘I don’t think she is,’ Skadi said, not sure why she was feeling sorry for him or urged to help, though she also held no particular grudge against him. ‘Seeing anyone, that is.’
Loki, marvelling, shook his head. ‘I don’t believe it. Freyr, struck love-stupid. What next? A wolf swallows the sun?’
‘Want me to go?’ the underclassman spoke up. ‘I could take her a message, maybe.’
‘You could?’ Freyr blinked. ‘Wow, yeah, man, you could … that’d be all right … that way, if, she, like, wasn’t interested, it’d soften the blow … and if she was, then...’
‘Then you’d look like an insecure idiot,’ Loki began.
‘Then all would be well,’ Freya interrupted.
‘You’d do that for me, Skirnir? Be my, like, wing-man?’
‘Sure. Glad to. Though … could I borrow your car?’
‘My car? My car?’
‘How’s it going to look if I go on the bus?’ Skirnir asked. ‘Seriously. I’ll be careful. You know you say that car practically drives itself.’
‘This isn’t going to go well,’ Loki said. ‘Trusting this junior varsity nobody with your wheels? What about the car show? Surt’s been working on that hot-rod flame chariot of his all year.’
‘Hey man, whatever, I can deal with Surt. And if it gets me a chance with Gerdr, who cares?’
‘Your funeral.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’
Loki turned to Skadi again. ‘I can’t bear to watch. Let’s go get that drink.’
‘Later, dude,’ Freyr said absently, his full attention on Skirnir. ‘Okay, so, say that I did loan you my car.’
‘Stay out of trouble, Loki,’ Freya said.
‘As if.’ He winked. ‘Don’t forget, you promised to teach me that falcon trick.’
They said their goodbyes, then Skadi followed him as he entered the
house. The music was louder, and the party had spread through several rooms.
The band had set up in a centre-most chamber. Across the bass drum was scrawled, in black runic lettering: The Skalds. The lead singer, spiked of hair and pierced of lip and eyebrow, wore ripped jeans and arm-rings of studded leather. He howled poetic sagas into a microphone.
‘That’s Bragi,’ Loki said. ‘He’s pretty good. I don’t have much of a talent for kennings, myself. Flytings and insults are more my speed. But you should hear him when he busts out his electric harp. He shreds on that baby.’
‘Idunn’s boyfriend, isn’t he? Is she here tonight?’
‘Who, Idunn? Yeah, she’s around somewhere, probably making sure everybody stays hydrated and healthy with her apple-a-day reminders. You know her, huh?’
‘Heard of her.’ A rime-frost of ice crept into her tone, despite her efforts of nonchalance.
Crafty Loki was no doubt far from fooled. He’d recognised Skadi as Jotunn High’s ski champion, after all; he must also be aware of her other connections. Maybe her presence here intrigued him, amused him. Maybe he just wanted to see what would happen next.
A great revelry of laughter rang from the feasting-hall, where the drinking was heaviest and mead-benches lined the walls. Two Einherjar attempted kegstands on a long table, and others guzzled mead in contest from horn-shaped funnels. Sigurd, with Brunhilde riding astride his shoulders, faced off against another Viking with Valkyrie astride; the girls, shrieking giggling war-cries, swatted each other with oversized foam-rubber axes.
Loudest among the laughter was a jovial, booming roar like mighty thunder. Loki rolled his eyes at the sound of it, reaching into a nearby cooler. ‘Thor, obviously.’
‘Obviously,’ Skadi said. She accepted the can of Heidrunn Lite he handed her, opened it, and took a sip as
she surveyed the room.
Thor, in an Asgard High sweatshirt with the sleeves and collar torn away to expose his brawny arms to the shoulders and his powerful chest to the collarbones, was unmistakable even before she saw the hammer tattoos on each bicep. Mjolnir in ink, Mjolnir in duplicate. When he flexed, which he did at any opportunity, jagged bright lightning-bolts flashed around the hammers. Those standing near enough could even hear the rumble, and those standing too near might get a jolting static shock.
When he saw Loki, Thor’s laughter didn’t stop, but a baleful reddish light burned from beneath his thick brows.
‘He looks like he wants to wring your neck,’ Skadi said. ‘What’d you do this time?’
‘Ah, he always looks like that. Not my fault he doesn’t have a very sophisticated sense of humour.’
‘Weren’t you the one who talked him into wearing a wedding dress and a veil to crash our Homecoming pep rally?’
Loki snorted with mirth. ‘Yeah … awesome moment, truly epic … one of my best, if I do say so myself.’
‘No wonder he wants to wring your neck.’
‘Like I said, not a very sophisticated sense of humour. Sif, either. That time I cut all her hair off, that was a joke.’
Sif, of course, was another Skadi recognised. Thor’s girlfriend was not one of the Valkyrie cheerleaders, but Asgard’s top female athlete in her own right, a track and field star. She stood tall and strong, poised and confident. A shining braid the colour of ripe wheat had been coiled and pinned at the back of her head.
‘You cut off her hair?’
‘It was a joke,’ he repeated. ‘And I fixed it. See? You can hardly tell the difference anymore.’
‘Don’t you ever think that, one of these days, they’re going to get tired of your jokes?’
‘Oh, they keep threatening that they’ll … I don’t know, pants me and tie me to the flagpole, or chain me to that big rock out in the quad. But I’m not worried. They’d have to catch me first.’
The high chamber was smaller, and somewhat quieter, with conversational clusters and less chanting of, ‘Chug! Chug! Chug!’ Loki made an exaggerated shushing gesture as he ushered Skadi in.
Odin, of course, she knew on sight and by reputation. Popular enough to win student body president in a landslide; cool enough to be in on the fun high school hijinks instead of an uptight hall monitor and prefect like Tyr; going steady with Frigg, the wholesome beauty queen who formed the centre of the Asgardian social scene. Between her connections and Odin’s own network of informants, nothing went on that they didn’t know about.
The BMOC’s attire was of a moderately prep-school style, with two white wolves embroidered on the breast of his polo shirt and the sleeves of a grey cashmere sweater loosely knotted at his neck so that it draped his back like a thick cloak.
‘What’s with the eyepatch?’ Skadi asked in a murmur.
‘Oh, that? The way I heard it, he really wanted to be class valedictorian, as if he didn’t have enough going for him already. Said he’d hang upside down from a tree and give his left eye for straight A’s. So, Mimir, the crazy old librarian, took him up on it.’
‘Ouch,’ Skadi said.
He shrugged. ‘Could be worse. Most guys would have said their left nut.’
Two slim, quick youths with hair the glossy black of raven’s feathers darted up to Odin, tapping him upon the shoulder. Odin tipped his head to listen to what the youths whispered into his ear, then turned to regard Loki and Skadi with the keen gaze of his remaining eye.
‘Loki,’ Odin called, the effect silencing all within earshot. ‘Who is this you’ve invited to our party?’
‘I didn’t invite her,’ Loki said. ‘She just showed up on her own. You can’t blame this one on me.’
The set of Frigg’s mouth conveyed her doubts on that account, but she said nothing. Instead, Asgard’s queen bee studied Skadi, evaluating her on fashion, poise, posture and hairstyle. Skadi lifted her chin, knowing she had done well to garb herself in her wardrobe-glory for this confrontation.
‘I am Skadi,’ she announced, taking a bold stride forward. ‘Skadi Thjazisdottir. I come with a grievance.’
‘I knew it.’ Loki smirked. ‘Oh yeah, this ought to be good.’
‘Well, well, well,’ Odin said, steepling his fingertips together. He didn’t even have the decency to look concerned, let alone contrite, guilty or ashamed. ‘Suppose you tell us, then, what is this grievance you bring.’
‘I’m here on behalf of my father. When you and some of your friends were on one of your road trips, you stopped at his diner. The Ox and Eagle, do you recall it?’
‘I may recall a restaurant by such name,’ Odin said. ‘We were only looking to get something to eat, after such a long journey.’
‘It was five minutes before closing time,’ Skadi said. ‘He’d already shut down the kitchen for the night, cleaned the grill. He offered to make you some sandwiches, instead, but you’d have none of it.’
‘As I further recall it,’ Odin said, ‘we invited him to sit down and join us for a meal. We said that we’d buy him dinner as well as our own, but what he did was serve us some cheap frozen burgers while making a thick slab of prime rib for himself, and charging us triple the price into the bargain.’
‘For which,’ Skadi said, ‘you ruffians, you bullies, you started trashing the place and roughing him up. Him, an old man, and outnumbered besides.’
‘That would hardly convey a positive image and glowing endorsement of our fine school,’ Tyr said. ‘I’m surprised this wasn’t brought to the attention of the debate team or student council.’
‘Some drinking,’ admitted Odin, clearing his throat, ‘may have been involved.’
‘But, when the outnumbered old man didn’t prove to be so easily beaten,’ Skadi went on, ‘when, in fact, he began giving you a sound thrashing instead, you begged him to let you go. You offered to bribe him. Then you threatened to blackmail him.’
‘We were only goofing around,’ Loki said. ‘Kids. Guys. Goofing around. Things got a little carried away, that’s all.’
‘Goofing around?’ cried Skadi. ‘By telling
everyone he tried to kidnap Idunn? Like he was some sort of filthy pervert, chasing after high school girls?’
‘Idunn had no idea,’ Frigg said. ‘She was very upset when she heard of it later.’
‘You Asgard hot-shots think you can go anywhere and do anything you like, without consequence,’ Skadi said. ‘You humiliated my father, nearly ruining his business and his reputation. What do you have to say for yourselves?’
‘Go, Vikings?’ snickered the trickster.
‘Loki!’ snapped Odin, Frigg and Tyr in unison.
‘All in all, it was perhaps a regrettable incident,’ Odin continued. ‘We may, indeed, owe some manner of apology, compensation and atonement. Would you grant us a few moments to discuss it? In the meanwhile, Loki will be glad to entertain you.’
‘Get him to do his party piece,’ one of the slim, black-haired youths said. ‘I thought it hilarious. Remember, Muninn?’
The other nodded vigorously. ‘I certainly do, Huginn. When he tied a cord strung between the beard of a nanny-goat and his own...’
‘How about we save that for later?’ Loki interjected. ‘I did promise Skadi I’d give her the tour, and we haven’t finished yet.’
‘By all means, then,’ said Frigg. ‘Please do.’
He swept with a flourish a most lavish bow, then ushered Skadi from the high chamber.
‘So,’ he said, chortling. ‘Old Thjazi’s your dad. Did he and your uncles really have to settle their inheritance with an eating contest?’
‘Don’t you take anything seriously?’ Skadi asked, ignoring his question.
‘Not really, no. Where’s the fun in that? Oh, hey, check out the little weirdo in the corner. That’s Heimdall. He’s got nine moms. Don’t ask.’
‘Nine moms?’
‘I said, don’t ask. And he’s a band geek. I mean, he plays the gjallarhorn, for crying out loud. You probably saw him at halftime, marching around out there with the other unfortunates in their uniforms.’
‘I get the idea you don’t like him very much.’
‘Why, just because I had a perfectly good prank in the works with Freya’s favourite necklace, and he had to butt in and wreck it? He dances like the whitest white boy in the Nine Worlds; who knew he could swim like a seal? That’s more Njord’s department.’
