Monsters : I Bring the Fire Part II (A Loki Story)

by C. Gockel

His answer is immediate. You keep asking me that. ;-)

  Amy’s eyes narrow. That isn’t a straight answer, but why would he hide it?

  Before she can reply, Jameson says, “Well, Ms. Lewis, you won’t have to worry much longer about interrogating our guest anymore. It sounds like our linguists will be ready to take over soon and the subject will be in far more capable hands.”

  It’s a lot less insulting than being told to have sex with snow monkeys by the giantess. Nonetheless, Amy’s hand tightens on Fenrir’s back. And then Fenrir growls.

  All of the ADUO agents in the room ignore the sound and stare pointedly at the camera.

  “What was that?” says the Director.

  Amy tries to hold onto Fenrir, she really does, but the angle is awkward and her little beast slithers up from Amy’s lap and onto the table.

  Bristling what little hair she has, Fenrir bares her teeth. “Rrrrrrrrrrrr....”

  “Is that a rat?” says Jameson.

  “Uh...” says Steve.

  “Rrrrrrrrrrr....” growls Fenrir. “Rrrrrrrrrrr....”

  Straightening, Jameson says, “Well, I can certainly see why you haven’t made any progress, Agent Rogers.”

  Steve responds in a bored voice. “As I discussed with you, we have a number of unique assets in this situation, flexibility is necessary — ”

  And suddenly Amy’s had enough. Standing up, she puts her hands on her hips. “No progress? You just said yourself the linguists would be able take over soon. And Steve’s been fighting trolls and wyrms, and almost dying, and throwing off the media! What have you been doing? What progress have you made?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Steve nod at Stodgill.

  In front of her, Fenrir barks and wags her body, nails clicking on the conference table.

  Jameson stares at Amy as though she’s sprouted an extra head.

  A hand comes down on Amy’s shoulder. “This way, Ms. Lewis,” says Stodgill pulling her from the table.

  Fenrir follows them both with a yip.

  As the conference room door closes, Amy hears muffled shouts as Jameson yells at Steve.

  Laura doesn’t say anything, just guides her to her desk. Amy sits down on her chair, gathers Fenrir in her arms, and starts to spin. She’s chilled with the flush of sweat she had during her outburst. And she’s humiliated. They’ve been trying so hard to win Sleeping Beauty over with niceness...they’ve released her from her straight jacket, given the giantess clothes to wear, and decent food, and no one’s ever raised their voice even and —

  Amy straightens in her chair. Why have they been so nice to Not-So Sleeping Beauty? ADUO must want something more than simple answers delivered under torture. It’s as though they need her trust. And of course the giantess can’t trust them because they’ve got her locked up — for her own protection — but she doesn’t know that. Not-So Sleeping Beauty can’t believe humans have mastered magic enough for them to protect her from it. Amy has no idea how Sleeping Beauty rationalizes the fact that she hasn’t attempted an act of self harm since she’s been in Steve’s office. All the giantess does when Amy talks to her is toss insults.

  Head bowed, Amy spins in her chair.

  She’s still spinning in her chair when she hears Steve’s footsteps. Before he can admonish her for her outburst, Amy says, “Let Not-So Sleeping Beauty out of the Promethean magic shield thing — put the place on lockdown so she can’t get to Cera...but let her see what happens. She’ll trust us then. It’s probably the nicest thing to do in the long run.” Because they’ll torture the giantess if she doesn’t cooperate, won’t they?

  She hears his fingers tap on the desk. “If we put the place on lockdown, I suppose it can’t do any harm.”

  Amy pats Fenrir nervously. It won’t harm any of the humans...

  x x x x

  Steve pats the Glock under his suit and looks through the window of his office. The Giantess is standing, poised as a statue and just as cold, between two male guards, two female guards and a linguist.

  Steve’s not sure about this, but Amy was right about the Promethean containment field protecting the giantess from Cera — or if Loki is to be believed, from magical scarring incurred during her world walk.

  One of the guards nods at him, and Steve opens the door. Walking between her captors, the giantess steps out into the hallway. Wearing a simple a-line cotton dress, wrists handcuffed, she stops before him. She’s just a few inches shorter than he is. The dress’ short sleeves reveal arms that are strong and muscular — but not too muscular. Her pale legs are the same way.

  Steve fights the urge to stare. Loki may wax a little off-color about his admiration for Miss Lewis’ breasts, and Steve will admit, Amy has nice ones — he’s her boss, not blind. But Steve has always been more of a leg man. He doesn’t like skinny legs. He likes them long and strong and the giantess’ legs are perfect.

  He jerks his head up. She is staring at him, those gray-blue eyes unreadable beneath her white gold locks. Her skin is so pale it’s nearly translucent. Normally that isn’t a look that does much for Steve. He’ll admit he does have a preference for women of his own race. But on her, it looks good — otherworldly. A pre-Raphaelite painting come to life.

  He blinks. It’s been decades since he’s thought of anything from that Art History course he took to meet a credit requirement.

  She looks to the ceiling and smiles. “Da,” she says. “Da.”

  She brings her smile back to him. “Would...take off?” she says holding up her handcuffed wrists.

  Steve looks at the handcuffs. She is unarmed. What was the point of them again?

  “How come she’s speaking English now?” says one of the female guards.

  The giantess winks. “Magic.” She lifts her wrists again. “Take off?”

  Steve smiles. “Oh, yes, sure.”

  “Sir,” says one the female guards. “Is that really a good idea?”

  Ignoring that question, he reaches for the keys and remembers belatedly one of the guards has them. He scowls and is about to order the guard to take off her cuffs, but the man is already there, unlocking them. Steve’s scowl intensifies as he watches the other man’s hands brush the giantess’ skin. He shakes his head.

  “Look around?” says the giantess, rubbing her free wrists.

  “Of course,” says Steve. The office is empty of personnel — just in case she becomes violent like the other giants did. But she is so calm, that seems like a needless precaution.

  She walks towards Amy’s empty desk. And then turning, she walks towards the back, the guards staying in step, Steve just behind them.

  The giantess peeks into cubicles and stares up at the fluorescent lights in the ceiling, saying nothing. But every now and then she turns and smiles at Steve or one of the guards.

  This is going really well.

  As they get closer to the back of the office and the door that leads to the tunnels, she turns to one of the guards. “May I have your sword?”

  The guard stops short.

  The giantess smiles. “Sorry...mean may I have your weapon?”

  Well, that sounds reasonable.

  Steve reaches into his holster, about to give her his own, but the guard beside her is ahead of him — he has his gun in outstretched arms and is just about to drop it into her hands, when one of the female guards races forward. “What are you doing?” she screams. What is her name again? Jones? Steve tilts his head as she lunges at the man and is distantly aware of her shouting to the other woman, “Stop them!”

  The giantess turns to Steve and shouts, “Kill the women!”

  He wants to. He really does. Steve’s fingers tremble on his Glock, but another instinct is stronger. “That seems excessive. Regulations specifically state —”

  The giantess screams. Turning to the door, she starts yanking at the handle, shouting in a language Steve can’t understand. Steve stands still as a statue and the guards wrestle. Failing to unlock the door, she beats her fist
against it. Steve just stares like he’s watching a movie.

  And then she starts pounding her head against the door. He hears a crack. Somehow he knows it’s her skull. And then it’s like a light has gone on in his brain. Running forward he wraps his arms around her torso and rips her away, his vision filled by the blur of her face and hair rapidly turning scarlet.

  x x x x

  Amy walks into Steve’s office, holding Fenrir. The giantess is strapped down on the bed again. Her head is wrapped in bandages. There are bruises all over her face. Her nose is taped, her lips bloody.

  Amy’s seen the security footage. She seemed to have possessed enough control to use magic to speak English...and there was that weird spell she’d seemed to cast on the men in the group. And then she’d gone crazy.

  Amy takes a deep breath. Those injuries, they’re her fault, but it is better than the alternative... isn’t it?

  Staring at the ceiling, the giantess says, “I will talk with you now —”

  Amy bites her lip. Well, that’s promising.

  “ — human scum. But I will not play your games!”

  Amy blinks and sets Fenrir down. Did she hope to be friends? “Sure. Want to start with your name?”

  Turning her head, the giantess screams. “Impudent mortal filth! You know my name from Loki!” Thrashing at her bonds, she hisses. “No. More. Games.”

  Stunned, Amy takes a step back. In her arms Fenrir growls. Amy’s breath hitches and she squeaks. “He actually never told us.” Sagging into her chair, Amy wipes her eyes. No wonder the giantess didn’t trust her. “He’s not...not very reliable.”

  The giantess begins to laugh. It’s not a pretty sound. “Oh, you can always rely on Loki.” The woman’s lip is turned up in a snarl. “You can always rely on Loki to deceive and destroy!”

  Amy draws back in her chair, and Fenrir sits upright, a growl erupting in her throat.

  Staring at the ceiling the giantess’ eyes go wild. “For the sake of Jotunheim and Jotunheim alone I will talk to you!”

  “Ummm...okay,” says Amy. “What should we call you?”

  Straining against her bonds, the giantess raises her head as high as she can. “You may call me Gerðr.”

  x x x x

  Later that day Amy meets with the Steve in the conference room. Brett and Bryant and some of the new linguist guys are there, too.

  She feels wiped. It worked. Her super duper plan to let Gerðr out proved to the giantess they were protecting her — even if they were only idiot magicless humans. Amy’s telling herself the fact that Gerðr tried to beat her brains in to get through the back door to Cera isn’t really her fault. Even if she knew, or at least suspected it would happen.

  …and it’s better than sending her to Gitmo, or Egypt, or Iraq to be “interviewed.”

  She bites her lip and looks around. Everyone else looks happy and elated. Steve’s even smiling a bit and humming.

  Fenrir hops up onto her lap and Amy runs her fingers through her fur. Steve hits a button on his computer and Gerðr’s voice fills the room.

  Several sets of eyes look to her. Amy blinks. “That’s where she is explaining that a magical creature can use objects of power as sort of...well, a battery. It takes energy to collect magic to direct, but with something like Cera, all the magic is collected and ready to be directed.” She scowls. “Or as Gerðr said, ‘all the magic is ready to be directed, you deficient mortal fool.”

  “Nice, nice,” says Steve, looking at the transcript.

  Amy raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Fenrir presses her nose against her palm and Amy closes her eyes. They learned a lot from Gerðr today. About magic, Asgard and the other realms, and about Loki.

  Amy scowls. According to Gerðr, Loki is only tolerated by Thor, Odin, ‘the mute gardener’ Hoenir, his wives and his children — one of them a child that was a ‘disgraceful disfigured blemish on the Jotunn race.’

  Gerðr also says that Loki is a womanizer, murderer, gambler and a drunkard. Amy can’t quite reconcile that image with the man who conjured butterflies for Abby, the little girl in the restaurant.

  ...But hadn’t Loki told her during their trip to Alfheim that he’d seduced Sif, Thor’s wife? And by Gerðr’s accounts Thor was the closest thing besides Hoenir and Odin that Loki had to a friend.

  “Amy?” says Steve.

  Blinking, she looks up and meets Steve’s eyes.

  “Thought we lost you there for a moment,” he says.

  She smiles tightly. “I’m just tired.”

  At exactly that moment the phone in the conference room buzzes. “It’s Jameson,” Steve mutters, hitting the accept button.

  Jameson’s voice fills the room. “Agent Rogers, is your team there?”

  “On speaker,” says Steve.

  “We’ve had another breakthrough.” Jameson says. “One of our agents in Visby just happened to overhear a woman in a bar say a recent one-night stand turned blue after their encounter. The agents interviewed her. He fits Loki’s description perfectly. I can pipe the video in to you.”

  Amy suddenly feels all eyes in the room on her, and it’s like they have physical weight. Swallowing, she tightens her grip on Fenrir. “It’s not like he is my boyfriend or anything.” It comes out much softer than she intended. But she’s never thought that. Not really. And this shouldn’t make her feel weird...or disappointed.

  Jameson’s voice cracks over the speaker. “Well?”

  Steve’s voice sounds tight when he says, “Maybe we can get to it some other time.”

  Amy feels a flush of relief and gratitude as she looks up to her boss.

  But then Jameson’s voice crackles through the air again. “This is important. As I’m sure you’ll recognize when you see the footage.”

  Amy goes cold. Standing, she says, “I think I’ll just take a break.”

  Turning, she leaves the room without bothering to shut the door, Fenrir at her heels. She’s not quite to her desk when she hears Steve say, “We still need her to interface with Loki.”

  She almost laughs to herself — and there she thought for a moment Steve cared about her feelings.

  x x x x

  Bryant runs back into the conference room. “Lewis just left the office, Sir.” Steve scowls.

  Making a noncommittal noise, Jameson says, “Get your vid screen up, gentlemen.”

  Bryant hastens to comply. The video screen flickers to life. A woman in her late twenties or early thirties sits on a chair. The first thing Steve notices is that she is “well endowed.” She is sitting, wearing a short blue dress and heels, legs primly crossed. Her hair is blonde and brushed over her shoulder. In one hand she is waving a cigarette.

  A man off screen asks her a question in Swedish and she says, “I speak English.”

  She proceeds to tell them how she met Loki at a bar, thought he was cute and funny and took him home. She doesn’t go into details about what happened between the sheets, just says, “and afterwards, you know he fell asleep a little bit and I looked over and his hair is black and his skin is all blue. I screamed and he woke up. You’re blue, I told him, and he changed back. He put on his clothes and left.”

  “Was there anything else unusual about the encounter?” an ADUO agent says offscreen.

  The woman smiles. “Jah.”

  “Would you elaborate?”

  She laughs so hard she doubles over. Lifting her head she licks her lips and grins. “It was amazing.”

  Someone in the conference room coughs.

  Taking a drag on her cigarette, she blows smoke at the camera. Her top leg starts to swing, and she runs her free hand down her thigh. “I don’t suppose you have his number?”

  The video ends.

  Jameson’s voice cracks on the conference phone. “And now gentlemen we can discuss our plans to bring Loki into custody.”

  “What?” Steve says. “Is that really a good idea? Gerðr may be informative but she’s useless in the field —”

  “We’ll
only bring him in for questioning,” says Jameson. “Show him who’s boss.”

  Steve can hear the smile in his voice; it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Cera’s growing. They’re 11 days away from having to evacuate the Chicago Board of Trade Building — and a very awkward explanation to the public about why such drastic measures are necessary. Meanwhile, Steve’s boss wants to get in a pissing match with the one being who might be able to help them.

  Chapter 11

  When Amy gets home Loki is there, of course. His back is to her; his head is in her refrigerator. Fenrir immediately gives a happy yip and runs in his direction. For a moment Amy just stares. Some women he uses for sex. He uses her for food, and maybe company. And some women he just uses. “You could have at least told me Gerðr’s name!”

  Not turning around, he snorts. “Where would have been the game in that?”

  She waves her arms. “She got hurt, badly, horribly, because I suggested she leave Steve’s office!”

  “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer giantess. I still don’t understand why the locking mechanism on that door frustrated her so much.” He turns around with a pint of milk in his hand.

  Amy throws up her hands. She shouldn’t care at this point, but she does. “Frustrated? Frustrated? She bashed her own head in!”

  Ignoring her, he takes a swig of her milk right from the carton. He immediately makes a face and spits it out in the sink. Grimacing, he turns to her. “When was the last time you went grocery shopping?”

  “Loki — Cera will kill you...it wants destruction, it wants death...” Gerðr told her as much.

  Closing one eye, he peers into the carton. “She hasn’t killed me yet, though with her whining...” He makes a tsk, tsk, noise.

  Amy’s shoulders fall. “Maybe you’re just stronger than the other giants.”

  “Did Gerðr suggest that?” Loki says taking a whiff of the milk and grimacing.

  Amy crosses her hands over her chest. “No.” Gerðr said just the opposite.

  He smirks at her.

  “But Gerðr did say you are supposed to bring about the end of the world in frost giant prophecies...just like in our myths, which doesn’t jive with the being unpowerful thing.”