by C. Gockel
“Amy?” Loki whispers. “Amy?”
Her eyelids don’t even flutter.
With a groan, Loki leans his head against the window.
“Are you okay, man?” says the cab driver.
“Yes,” says Loki, head against the glass.
“Please don’t throw up in my cab,” says the driver in another language.
“I’ll do my best,” says Loki in whatever tongue it is. He’s more frustrated at the moment than drunk. He considers pushing Amy off of him, the state of semi-arousal suddenly no longer enjoyable.
“You understand Polish?” says the driver.
Loki makes a non-committal, “Mrrrmmmmffff.”
“Cool Halloween costume,” says the man.
Ignoring him, Loki starts gently shaking the girl. She doesn’t rouse.
By the time they get to the hotel’s driveway, Amy still hasn’t so much as snored. With a sigh, Loki gives the driver Amy’s address.
As they pull past the not cleverly-concealed ADUO agents, Amy is still ‘dead as a door moose.’ Or something. Poking her, Loki says, “Up, Miss Lewis.”
She doesn’t respond to that. Or when he shakes her again.
In the front seat the driver coughs.
Loki stares down at the sleeping girl. There is a faint smile on her lips, as though she is in a happy dream. He, on the other hand, has sobered up enough to contemplate his marvelously bad luck.
“Do you need some help?” says the driver.
Grumbling, Loki throws some money into the front seat and opens the door. Putting his hands underneath Amy’s shoulders and knees, he awkwardly maneuvers her out of the cab. “No!” he huffs belatedly. Kicking the door shut with his foot, he stumbles down the steps to her apartment — not because he’s drunk, but because the leg she was sleeping on is numb.
Or maybe he is still a little drunk.
The cab screeches away and Loki opens Amy’s door with a flamboyant puff of green magic. Fenrir starts yapping excitedly and runs happily between Loki’s feet — nearly knocking Loki over, but he manages to drop Amy on her bed unharmed.
He scowls around the room and feels the presence of new surveillance devices. Smirking he concentrates...from every corner come little pops and sparks as he blows their circuits. A few lightbulbs also explode. He’s almost sure they aren’t bugged, but his aim is apparently a bit off. Fenrir gives a yip and runs around in a little circle. Bowing to the animal, Loki says, “Let me know if any of them start a real fire.” And then with a happy sigh he flops down beside Amy and puts his blue hands over his eyes.
Beside the bed Fenrir starts to whine.
Amy suddenly sits bolt upright. “I have to let Fenrir out!”
Loki peeks between his fingers and watches in a sort of horrified bemusement as she takes the animal to the door, seemingly oblivious to his presence. Without as much as a, “Hello, why are you in my bed?” Amy lets the dog back in, shuts the door, and falls down beside him, her eyes instantly shut.
Rolling onto his side beside Amy, Loki gives her a poke. “You know, I am very dangerous.” There is no response.
He sighs. “You really know how to stoke a man’s ego.”
Amy does not even have the decency to snore, but across the room Fenrir cocks her head.
Loki rolls his eyes at the dog. “Okay, it’s true. We had a lovely evening.” He looks down at Amy. She’s curled in fetal position, her face away from him. She isn’t as tall as a typical Asgardian woman. She looks very small and vulnerable in the dark.
If a photon hits a tree in a forest and no one’s around, does it make any sound? He finds himself smiling. With a disgusted sigh he sits up, moves down the bed, and slips off her shoes. Fenrir sits up and makes a little noise that sounds almost like a growl.
“Relax,” says Loki. “Only her shoes. I will not dishonor your mistress.”
Fenrir lies back down.
“If I had any sense at all, Fenrir, I’d stay here with her.” He takes the blanket that’s at the bottom of the bed and pulls it up over Amy. “I would give up my hunt for Cera, I’d start over, make more babies.” He runs his hand over the curve of Amy’s hip, covered now by the blanket. His blue hand should be a shadow, but he thinks it’s almost glowing. Dropping down onto the bed, he curls up behind Amy. She is soft, and warm — even through the blanket.
A good long fuck would have been very nice. But this isn’t horrible.
Tracing a hand up her side he whispers, “I’d stay here on this beautiful world with your charming mistress...convince some university to give me a degree, become a professor...” His eyes widen. “Or maybe become a professional poker player!”
For a moment he can almost imagine it, and then he scowls, skin crawling at his own lie. There is no future for him here. Even without Idunn’s apples, as a magical creature, Loki has at least a few hundred good years before him. But all the humans around him are going to wither and die — because Odin is selfish with his apples, and because Hoenir never gave them magic.
“Fenrir, don’t listen to me, I’m drunk.” Loki says bitterly.
Closing his eyes he inhales the scent of apple shampoo. Hoenir is dead, and Odin will pay. He pulls himself closer to the girl. He knows enough to claim what comfort he can while he can.
Chapter 15
The wind whistles through the cliffs above the world of Vanaheim’s Great Road. On the cliff’s edge, Loki holds the dwarf by the collar of his armor. “Who ordered this!”
The dwarf’s eyes are wide. His lips tremble. “I don’t know.”
Behind Loki, Thor says, “Loki has ways of making you speak, don’t you, Loki?”
Loki does have ways. But then, they all do: Thor, the Valkyries Freyja and Brynhildr, and the half dozen Einherjar that accompany them.
Loki is so angry he is shaking. He is not injured, but he is dirty and he stinks like blood, sweat and the excrement of his enemies. Pulling a knife out of his sleeve, he slits the dwarf’s throat and drops the small man.
“What are you doing?” Brynhildr hisses.
Snarling, Loki wipes the knife on his tunic and slips it into his belt. And then with a grunt he kicks the dwarf’s corpse in frustration. “He wasn’t lying, he didn’t know.”
Freyja walks among the bodies of the five dozen dwarves, dark elves, jotunn and human warriors that litter the cliffs. This month she has dark green hair, olive green skin, and disturbing white eyes. The falcon cloak she wears has wings that are the same green as her hair. She shakes her head, “See how they had arranged their camp? They were expecting travellers from the East — we came from the West...”
Thor reaches down and lifts a bag from the ground. “They all are low on provisions, the camp has been here for many days...there have been many travellers coming from the East, they could have robbed from anyone.”
“But they chose to wait for us,” says Nahal, one of the Einherjar. He is nearly as tall as Thor; his skin is ebony. He is African, or was. Odin chooses the best human warriors from all Midgard to join the ranks of the Einherjar, his elite guard. Once chosen, the humans must leave their world and their tribes, but they are granted access to Idunn’s apples of immortality.
Loki spits. That their party came from the West is, as most unplanned things are, indirectly Loki’s fault. It started with a seedling Loki had brought back for Hoenir from a troll-hunting expedition on Midgard. Loki hadn’t seen the plant before. The humans called it ‘Mistletoe.’ Knowing Hoenir would be interested, Loki took a small potted specimen back to Asgard with him.
Hoenir had been interested, but of course, Loki’s potted specimen was dead by the time he got it to his friend. So he’d gone with Hoenir to Midgard to get another — right before a very important gathering of mages at Vanaheim’s Hall of Records. The gathering happened only once every century, and Hoenir was planning on attending. Things on Midgard hadn’t gone as planned — the gate had shifted, the ground was frozen. They were delayed and managed to delay the departure of the healer Ei
r, the other Asgardian headed for the mages’ gathering.
To make up for it, Hoenir did something that Mimir had only whispered about. He created and then opened a World Gate that went directly from the backdoor of his hut to a forest not a day’s march west of Vanaheim’s Hall of Records...World Gates were strictly forbidden to alight anywhere closer to the Great Hall. Considering that Asgard’s main gate opened 3 days to the east, it actually spared them time. And it was an amazing display of magic. Loki asked Hoenir if he’d ever be able to do such a feat. Mimir said Loki would probably never be able to create a branch, but that someday he might be able to traverse them — if he was willing to hole himself up in a cave and practice for a hundred years or so. Which was the same as saying ‘no.’
However, Loki got to spend some of the time saved on the journey in the Hall himself and to learn some tricks for applying magic to weapons — tricks that didn’t take hundreds of years to learn. He also got to look at some choice elven erotica before he, Thor, Freyja, Brynhildr and the Einherjar left Hoenir and Eir to enjoy a three-month long sojourn in the great Hall.
He stole a book of said erotica, too. He’s carrying it beneath his armor. They are a half day away from the main World Gate — without Hoenir in their party they must use the normal routes. Loki was looking forward to sharing the book tonight with Sigyn.
Loki doesn’t love Sigyn the way he loved Aggie. With Aggie Loki had been idealistic and blind. There is something hard edged about his marriage to Sigyn. Which doesn’t mean he doesn’t like Sigyn, but it’s different. More practical. One of the things he does like about her is that she is curious enough to enjoy things like elven erotica. But the investigation of this attack is going to put those plans on hold. A ball of flame rises in one of his hands. Cursing, Loki waves it away.
From across the cliff comes the sound of pebbles falling. Loki looks up quickly. He sees no one but there is a boulder large enough to hide a hominid. He pulls out a knife he modified with some of the tricks he’d learned in the Hall of Records and aims it at the boulder.
Beside him Thor says, “What are you —”
The knife hits the rock and explodes, shattering the rock into pebbles and revealing a human man who had been hiding behind it. The man takes off along the narrow ledge. Loki pulls out another knife, but Thor grabs his hand. “Wait.”
“We’ve got him!” Brynhildr and Freyja shout, launching themselves into the air and across the chasm. Wide eyed, the human turns, and seeing them, he throws himself from the ledge. Freyja and Brynhildr scream and dive.
Beside Loki one of the Einherjar, the one with dark brown skin and eyes that look almost Asian, says, “Even with their numbers they were not a match for us. Whoever sent them didn’t mean for them to survive.”
Thor grunts in assent as Brynhildr and Freyja rise from the canyon bottom, the broken body of the human in Brynhildr’s arms.
Thor steps forward, Loki and the Einherjar close behind. With wild eyes the human laughs, blood trickling out of his mouth. “We were promised eternal life if we killed the man who carried a second head and the woman among the angels.”
It takes a moment for Loki to comprehend the man he means is Hoenir, and the woman is Eir. Breathing heavily, Loki rushes forward, dry brush around them bursting into flames. Throwing her cool arms around him, Freyja whispers in Loki’s ear. “Easy, Loki, easy!” It is only thanks to her compulsion over men that Loki doesn’t set the human aflame.
“Who promised this?” shouts Thor, ripping the man from Brynhildr’s arms and pressing Mjolnir to the man’s side.
The man’s body convulses and he screams as electricity courses through the hammer.
When Thor pulls Mjolnir away the man laughs. “The god of gods!” And then his eyes grow dim, and foam and blood leak from his mouth.
“Liar,” says the first Einherjar. “Odin made us all swear to protect Hoenir and Eir with our lives.”
“Who would do this?” Loki hisses.
Turning her head, Brynhildr says softly. “A rider approaches from the the direction of the World Gate.” Unfurling her wings, she leaps into the air.
Thor’s eyes meet his. “Why would anyone want to kill the two most powerful healers in Asgard?”
Loki’s stomach sinks as Brynhildr alights beside him. “It is Sigyn. She rides Sleipnir and has your boys with her.”
Loki feels himself go cold. He looks down the cliff walls and sees Sigyn approaching below. Running to a narrow path that leads to the road below he calls out, “Sigyn! Sigyn!” Behind him come Thor’s heavy footfalls.
A few minutes later he is panting at the bottom of the cliff at Sleipnir's side, Sigyn and his boys still astride. Freyja and Brynhildr circle cautiously above them in the sky; and Thor is holding Sleipnir’s bridle. His boys are staring wide eyed at his filthy armor. Sigyn’s golden hair is wild and windswept; fresh tears are making trails through the grime on her cheeks. Pushing Valli into Loki’s arms, Sigyn says, “There is plague in Asgard! Magical plague...They’ve taken her, Loki! They came to our house, Anganboða’s own Hall, and took her!”
Loki’s eyes widen. Magical plague. Such a thing hasn’t occurred in centuries — and is never a natural occurrence. His mouth is dry. He holds Valli like a doll in his arms. “Taken who?” But he knows.
“Our little girl!” Sigyn says, the words spitting out of her mouth. “Take Nari!”
Loki takes his second son as Sigyn gets off the Sleipnir “They’re banishing all the afflicted to Niflheim! Odin sent me here to tell you, and to bring Nari and Valli to safety...We must get Eir and Hoenir...”
Niflheim is cold and barren. Banishment there is the same as death.
“I will get Hoenir and protect your family, Loki,” Thor says. “I swear on my life. Go! Before your daughter is banished!”
Loki is already swinging up onto Sleipnir. He turns the beast back to the east and the World Gate. Before he’s dug in his heels into the horse’s flanks, Sigyn grabs a stirrup. She looks over her shoulder at Thor, walking away with Loki’s boys. And then she beckons for Loki to lean close. “I saw Baldur and Tyr near Helen just before her maids took her home...they all got sick. I was across the field with the boys...Baldur did this, Loki. I know it. Make him pay!”
Loki scowls up at the cliffs, the air shimmers around them, and Sleipnir whinnies. Loki nods tightly. Sometimes he loves Sigyn.
x x x x
Loki wakens to the sound of Fenrir’s growling, and for a moment thinks he is back on Asgard, approaching Odin’s throne. But he snaps into the present quickly. On instinct born over centuries, he slips invisibly out of his sleeping form. Leaving an illusion of himself on the bed, he crouches behind the low bookshelf that sets the bedroom apart from the front of the apartment.
The doorknob turns and Fenrir takes off in an explosion of yapping. Without bothering to see who is there, Loki vaults over the bookshelf, knocking over some books. He bites back a curse as they fall to the floor with soft thuds. He is still slightly drunk, apparently.
A beam of light flashes through his invisible form, briefly blinding him before landing on the bed where his illusion and Amy sleep. Agent Bryant McDowell stands in the doorway. His hair is slick with rain, his coat is drenched; Fenrir is tearing at the cuffs of his pants. “Miss Lewis?” says the agent looking vaguely confused. “Is everything alright?”
He carries a heavy duty black electric torch in one hand, a Glock upraised in the other — both pointed at Loki’s sleeping form on the bed...the form that is immaterial, that will not shield Amy from the bullet when it comes. Baldur’s words come to his mind, “You destroy everything beautiful, Loki...”
Loki feels his skin heat. Not this time. His lips curl up in a snarl and he closes the distance between himself and the agent as silently as a snake. In one fluid movement he wraps an invisible hand around Bryant’s wrist and aims it at the ceiling, popping the flat of his palm into the man’s elbow at the same time. The bone breaks with a satisfying crack and Bryant scream
s. There is the sound of fast footfalls from outside, and the voice of his brother.
Vision still dancing with the afterspots of the torchlight, Loki shakes his head and casts a hand towards the approaching figure, shrouding Brett’s face in light to blind him.
“Bryant? Bryant? Are you there? I can’t see you!” Brett says, voice panicked. “Is the girl okay?”
Loki blinks at that. Something in this scenario is off...
“I’m here,” Bryant says, cradling his arm. Spinning in Amy’s doorway, he says in the direction opposite Loki. “Show yourself, you fucking coward!”
In the bed Amy stirs at last. She sits up in bed. “Bryant?”
“Is fine,” says Loki from a point near Bryant’s elbow.
“What the —” But Loki has already shoved him out the open door into the rain.
“Go back to sleep, Amy!” Loki says cheerily. She falls back into bed and he steps out into the cold night, casting the same light around Bryant’s eyes that surrounds his brother.
“Ahhhh!” Bryant screams.
“Do yourself a favor, close your damnable eyes or you may find yourself blinded permanently!” Loki hisses.
Brett raises his gun in Loki’s direction even though he’s blind. Loki steps around, touches the Glock and it goes hot. Brett drops it with a curse.
Blind, and with a broken arm, Bryant rushes in the direction of the sound of the dropped gun, but Loki easily steps aside, holds out a foot and pushes Bryant to the ground.
Snapping the still-blind Brett roughly against the wall, Loki pins his arm against his back. “You came to arrest me — when the girl was unconscious and helpless and you wave a gun around without once announcing yourselves!” Trembling, he shoves Brett harder against the wall. “Why shouldn’t I kill you?” If Brett and Bryant weren’t soaked through, they would probably be in flames.
“We’re not here to arrest you!” Bryant hisses from the ground. He is sitting, cradling his arm, but otherwise making no effort to move.
Face pressed against the wall, light dancing in front of his eyes, Brett says, “We were worried about the girl!”
