“Nonsense,” Hel scoffed, giving Loki a look. “You don’t need him to pay a visit. You’re always welcome.”
“Thank you, my queen,” Thor grinned, showing all the gaps between his horrid teeth. “It is truly an honor.”
Hel’s attention returned to Loki, and cooled somewhat.
“So,” she said, slowly folding her arms. “How’s the arm?”
Loki smirked in return.
“You don’t plan to make this easy, do you?”
“Make what easy?” she asked, halfway smiling, watching his face.
Loki drew a breath, and sighed.
“You were right,” he said, his shoulders sagging. He ran his fingers through his dark curls. “I’ll never be accepted back with the Aesir. I don’t…belong with them. I never have. No matter how much I wanted to.”
Hel studied him a moment, then lifted her chin.
“What made you change your mind?”
“Fenris came to see me,” Loki confessed wearily, folding his own arms.
“Ah, Fen,” Hel shook her head. “What a good brother.”
“Is he here?” Loki wondered, glancing around.
“No, he’s out running,” Hel waved absently. “What did he tell you?”
“He told me that you and he were just trying to protect me,” Loki answered. “That you missed me. Obviously more than the Aesir do. And you want me to come home. That’s all.”
“Hm,” Hel said thoughtfully, her sneer gone. “And why did you bring this thing?” She nodded to Marina. Marina shrank back.
“You said you wanted her,” Loki answered. “You never told me why. But I assumed you would accept her as a peace offering.”
“Oh, I don’t need her anymore,” Hel answered. “Not when there’s so little time left, and she isn’t a threat anymore. I appreciate the thought, though.” And she winked at him.
“Time left?” Thor repeated, hobbling closer. “What do you mean, your highness?”
“I’m not sure if you heard, Mistress,” Hel turned to Thor. “But in your absence I obtained Bauldr, son of Odin.”
“Ah!” Thor’s big green eyes widened.
“He managed to keep his soul from going to Valhalla for a while, though—he used Soul Anchors, and tried to hide them all over Midgard,” Hel explained, rolling her eyes.
“Ack,” Thor spat.
“Mhm,” Hel agreed. “But there’s just very little time before those links break and his body shatters—and when that happens I’ll have enough to finish the potion I was telling you about.”
“Mhm,” Thor muttered, nodding and gumming.
“Sorry, what?” Loki canted his head. “Potion?”
Hel attended to him again.
“I’m going to take Asgard,” she answered.
Thor straightened. Loki frowned.
“Take it? How?”
“I turned the forge. Changed the flow,” she said, gesturing behind her. “I drained Helheim first—all that magic was just lying around, anyway—and then I was fortunate enough to receive Prince Alfhild of Alfheimr. Terrible accident—fell from a lame horse.” Her mouth quirked up, and she winked at Loki again.
Marina thrilled with horror. For just an instant, Loki’s hair flushed blue.
But Hel didn’t see it. She had turned her grin to “Pesta,” who mirrored it instantly.
“With what I get from Bauldr, the draught will be finished, and even Odin’s Gungnir will be no different from any ordinary spear,” she said. “To me, anyhow. Less, since, even if he threw it at me, it would break apart.”
“So you haven’t been returning magic from the dead into the realms? Any of it?” Loki pressed, his brow furrowed. “You’ve been siphoning it out to put into a potion? For how long?”
Hel shrugged.
“Since Nanna came to Yggdrasil.”
Loki’s gaze intensified with penetrating curiosity.
“That was two-hundred years ago.” Loki canted his head—and a bluish tinge returned. “Did you lame Bird’s horse?”
Hel laughed flippantly and looked off.
“You did,” Loki realized.
“I’m amazed you remember that,” she remarked.
“I was there,” Loki bit out. “I’ve always known you hated Nanna—but what did Bird do to you that you wanted to kill him?” Loki demanded.
“He loved me,” she snapped, pushing her forefinger into her breastbone. “And then Odin and Frigga chose another woman for him. A feeble, timid, fair-haired, ‘suitable’ woman. And he agreed.” For a moment, vivid pain crossed her face. “He proved that all Aesir promises are just empty words. And that acting civilized and being beautiful to look at are more valuable qualities in Asgard than heart, strength or character.”
“So you killed the one you claimed to love,” Loki countered. He snorted. “Well, I’ll admit, that certainly isn’t civilized.”
Hel glared at him.
“It took me two hundred years to fall out of love with him and do what needed to be done.”
“Then why did you lame his horse such a long time ago?” Loki wondered.
“I wasn’t trying to kill him then,” Hel answered. “I was after Odin.”
Loki just stared at her, his jaw tight, his brow knotted. Hel gazed back at him.
“You weren’t the only one they deceived, brother,” she murmured. “They broke my heart, too.”
“And what of Thor?” Loki asked quietly. “He won’t let Asgard go without a fight—and Mjollnir will be quite a force to be reckoned with.”
“No, it won’t,” she answered. “Once I have one more specific ingredient, he’ll go down easily enough. And when I siphon Thor, I’ll have enough power to subdue all nine realms. Midgard will be especially easy. All I have to do is release a little magic and bring springtime back, and they’ll believe I’m a goddess. And they won’t be scared of me—they’ll enjoy worshiping me.” She shrugged again. “They already love the combination of death, violence and beauty. I’ll fit right in.”
Loki’s hair cooled to black, but his eyes abruptly flashed scarlet. Hel held his gaze, softly sneering.
“What specific ingredient do you need?” Loki asked slowly. “It must be harder to come by than the others.”
“Oh, not at all,” Hel answered lightly. Then, she took half a step toward him—steel flashed in her
hand—
And she plunged a two-inch dagger straight into Loki’s gut.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Marina slapped a hand over her mouth and leaped backward.
Loki jerked—his lips parted, he stared into his sister’s face. His hair rippled with blue.
Hel yanked the blade loose and held it aloft. Loki bent his head and pressed his fingers to the new wound, then gazed in bewilderment at his bloody fingertips.
“What did you…do?” he gasped—and his face drained of color.
He crashed to his knees.
“No!” Marina howled, and flung herself down next to him. He toppled onto his back, trembling hands twitching up. Marina caught his head and shoulders, her arms breaking into violent shaking. Loki’s wide eyes paled to silvery blue, the ends of his hair turned white.
“Thank you for making it so easy for me,” Hel said, wiping the blade off on her skirt. “It’s a slow-acting poison, but you shouldn’t be in much pain. I’ll need to take your heart magik right before you die—the fresher it is, the more potent, you know. It’ll break Mjollnir in half.”
Marina took fistfuls of Loki’s shirt as he panted beneath her hands, her eyes clouding with tears. Hel stepped closer, her shadow falling across them.
“I know you better than anyone, Loki,” Hel muttered. “Your tricks are obvious by now.”
“Perhaps not,” came a creaking voice. Hel frowned and turned…
Just as “Pesta” reached beneath her robes—
And withdrew a mighty hammer.
That instant, the ragged black robes melted away—the hag’s stature shot up, her chest broad
ened, her hood fell back—
With a swift shake of his shoulders, a thunderhead cape billowed; golden armor gleamed, a mane of wheat-colored hair caught an unseen wind—the haggard face transformed to one of rugged beauty, a beard appearing, and the eyes changing from emerald to the blue of summer lightning.
“Thor?” Hel yelped, and darted three steps backward—
Thor’s face snarled. He heaved his hammer high over his head, brought it down and slammed it into the marble floor.
Thunder cracked.
The earth shook.
The room split.
Immense rocks shattered loose from the ceiling and tumbled.
Marina flung herself on top of Loki’s chest and head, shielding him—
Static danced across her skin.
Hel shrieked and leaped backward—a boulder smashed into the ground right where she had been. Marina lifted up and twisted around—glimpsed Hel fleeing down a dark side corridor.
“Loki!” Thor cried, thudding onto his knees on the other side of him, letting go of Mjollnir and grabbing tight hold of Loki’s right hand. Loki squeezed Thor’s fingers in return, finding his gaze.
“Couldn’t have been a bit quicker?” Loki rasped.
“Forgive me for that,” Thor winced. “What do we do about you?”
“It’s some kind of elvish hemlock,” Loki said, his voice quivering. “The kind that…turns your muscles to water before you simply can’t breathe anymore.”
Marina felt her throat spasm as her fingers clenched around his shirt.
“Can you stop it?” Thor demanded, pressing his hand to the side of Loki’s face.
“I…I have a bottle of the queen’s hoarhound in here somewhere,” Loki said, pulling loose of Thor. “It’ll slow it down. And I have…armor that will keep me moving…”
Weakly, Loki rubbed his hands together. Red sparks shot from his palms, and a small bottle full of blue liquid materialized. Then, he almost dropped it.
Thor quickly caught it, popped the cork loose, slid his hand under Loki’s head and lifted it, and pressed the bottle to his lips. Loki quickly drank it all, then took a rough breath and nodded. His quivering calmed. He breathed more deeply, then, grimacing, slowly sat up. Thor and Marina both kept hold of him.
“What should we do?” Thor asked, watching him intently.
“You have to go find that potion,” Loki said, gripping him by the collar of his breastplate. “I have a feeling it’s behind the forge, in what used to be the healing rooms. Probably hanging over the great fire. You have to get it, and take it back to Asgard.”
“I cannot leave you here,” Thor insisted. Loki shook him.
“If Bird turns to dust and she drinks that potion, it won’t matter what any of us do,” he barked. “Take it to Asgard, give it to Odin, and if we’re not back by then, come back to get us.”
Thor nodded firmly.
“It’s likely to be guarded by a pack of her wolves,” Loki warned. “Don’t let any of them bite you.”
“What will you do?” Thor asked.
“Marina will find Bird,” Loki told him. “And I will distract my sister so she doesn’t come after either of you.”
“Can you kill her?” Thor wanted to know. Loki’s mouth tightened.
“No,” he murmured. “So you’d better hurry.”
Thor looked at him for just another moment, then slapped Loki’s chest.
“I will find it, and I will come back for you,” he promised. Then, he reached out and laid his palm on Marina’s head. “May heaven guard you, my lady.” And he grasped his hammer, turned—and with a deadly crackle of thunder, he bolted down another hallway, lightning snapping in his wake.
Loki silently watched him go, his hair and eyes going silver. Then, he turned his head and looked at Marina.
He saw her—and suddenly frowned. His hair blushed blue again, his eyes flushed green as his eyebrows drew together.
“You’re crying.”
Marina choked on a sob and pressed shaking fingers to her lips—then reached out with both hands and helplessly curled her fingers through his collar. He sat up straighter, leaning toward her, concern flooding his softened face—and his hair became a lustrous auburn, his eyes the tint of a deep spring sky. Hot tears clouded Marina’s vision and rolled down her cheeks, even as she struggled to breathe.
“Are you going to die?” she stammered desperately, searching him.
He watched her for a moment, then smiled weakly.
“Most likely.”
A strangled cry broke loose from her before she stifled it hard with her hand, every watery breath hurting her whole frame.
“It’s all right,” Loki murmured, reaching up and tucking her hair behind her ear. “I am quite old, after all. I used up all my good luck a long time ago.”
Marina dropped her hand and shook her head.
Loki smiled gently at her, his eyes twinkling.
“It’s all right,” he whispered again. “Just knowing that at least one person would cry for a fool like me is enough good fortune for a lifetime.”
She gasped, and then her jaw locked and she gazed straight back at him, her whole body quivering. Her brow twisted, and she couldn’t speak.
His smile faded. He sat up a little further, tipping closer, his eyelashes fluttering.
“Marina?”
“Mm?” she moaned painfully.
“I’m…” He swallowed, his gaze flittering all over her face. “I don’t make promises lightly…”
Marina’s breathing sped up as stabbing pains lanced into her heart. Loki’s eyes turned bright aqua, and his hair the color of summer wheat.
“So…” he whispered. “Forgive me for breaking mine.”
Confusion darted through her…
Loki reached up, slipped his warm hands around her neck and cradled her face between his thumbs. His eyes closed. He leaned in.
And he kissed her.
Familiar lips—lips soft as rose petals, warm as evening sunlight. Lips that tasted like peppermint.
A dam broke inside her.
She flung her arms around his neck, opened her mouth and kissed him back.
Instantly, he pulled his hands down from her neck, wound his arms around her waist and crushed her to his chest.
Their mouths moved in wild concert—she sucked in deep breaths of him, drowning in his sharp, sweet scent—savoring spices on her tongue, the feel and push of his lips, the corners and feathery edges...
They kissed each other frantically, over and over—and then Loki began pressing deep, lingering on her mouth, reaching up with one hand to take hold of her neck, pushing his thumb against her pulse.
And then, golden light swelled through her brain. A metallic taste coursed across her tongue and slid down her throat.
The gold faded—Loki pulled back, turned his head and kissed her fiercely.
White light, with silvery hems—a taste like sugar and frost…
He captured her head in both his hands, broke the kiss and then overwhelmed her with another.
The scent of rain, the taste of fire—rolling sapphire clouds…
Loki pushed her back, back—a new kiss burned her lips…
Cinnamon and honey and sweet cream. Flickering scarlet light that seared her vision…
Her back met a wall. Loki pinned her there with his body—his heart thundered against her chest…
His mouth broke from hers. He gasped roughly. She felt his nose brush hers, his breath mingle with hers…
Then, he tilted his head, bent down and pressed his fiery lips to the base of her throat.
Electricity shot through her whole body.
She grabbed his hair with both hands as a green brighter than any jewel nearly blinded her—her mouth and nose and lungs filled with mint and frost and the luster of autumn. It almost tore her in half.
His lips lingered there as the powerful flash faded. Marina blinked her eyes open, shudders and chills racing all across her even as her finge
rs looped tighter through his hair and she fought to catch her breath.
Loki’s lips traced up her neck, along her jawline, and then he withdrew just enough to look down into her eyes again.
Brilliant as the Mediterranean Sea. Filled with tears that slid down his pale face. His eyebrows twitched together, and he swallowed again.
“I do trust you, Marina Feroe,” he gasped, his lower lip trembling. “And…now that I see it…” His face twisted, he reached up and shakily wiped her tears away. “I don’t want you to cry for me.”
Marina shattered with weeping. More of Loki’s tears fell—he bent close and swiftly kissed her on the forehead, then on the cheek.
Then, he tore out of her arms—she tried to catch hold of him…
He grimaced, and climbed to his feet, covering his wound with one hand. Marina took fistfuls of the skirt of her dress, her heart nearly stopping.
“Go find Bird,” Loki said breathlessly. “Use the Wishstone to hide while you look—it will make you invisible. Then use ‘unbind’ to get him loose of the bier. The one called ‘flee’ will take you to Asgard if you ask it to.”
“Where are you going?” Marina asked, scrambling up onto her knees.
“I have to distract Hel while I still have the strength,” Loki answered. “Keep her from finding Thor or you.”
Marina squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, feeling as if something inside her was ripping. When she opened them, she found him gazing softly at her.
“Please don’t cry,” he said. Then he chuckled sadly. “After all, as a great Midgardian once said… ‘If a man has not discovered something he will die for, he isn’t fit to live.’”
Marina swiped the tears off her face, fighting to see him clearly, to memorize the sight of him…
He lifted his left hand, and snapped his fingers.
A black cloud burst all around him, and swallowed his whole form.
The lamps blazed brighter—the air pulled to him. The pillar of mist around him swirled and spun…
The shadow melted off.
It drained and dripped down from the figure beneath.
Crisp raven hair—strands like the feathers of a crow. A face pale as winter moonlight—stunning, handsome, sharp and hard. Sharp, coal eyebrows, cultured features, a soft and delicate mouth. Eyes that literally blazed red—luminescent as a cat's when a light is shined upon them. Black enfolded his lean figure, hugging his waist, flaring sharply at his shoulders, and draping in jagged skirts around his legs. The lamplight caught the smooth, multi-faceted texture of his armor, flashing light back in sinister winks and sparks.
Bauldr's Tears Page 27
