Loki's Sin

by Saje Williams

  "I'm glad you've decided to join up, but I won't have you undermining any of us—and that includes Loki. Am I understood?"

  He actually had the grace to look a little sheepish. “Okay."

  "Good. I'll hold you to that. Now why don't you go out and do something to earn that exorbitant salary I'm paying you? Go type something."

  He chuckled. “I'll find something constructive to do."

  * * * *

  Once he'd left and shut the door behind him, she allowed herself to lean back and close her eyes for a moment. Fatigue washed over her. I hope he's serious about that. I can't take that tension between them any longer. And I get the feeling Renee's ready to sink her fangs into him the next time she hears him even thinking anything bad about Loki.

  That's all I need.

  The phone rang. “Crap.” She lifted the receiver. “Athena here."

  "Does feeding all those poor unfortunates make you feel more like a human being?” a familiar female voice asked.

  "Sif.” It came out more like a grunt than a word. “What do you want?"

  "For starters—I want your bitch cop dead. But you're on my list."

  "You might find both of us a bit tougher than you think,” Athena said, ignoring the chill spark of fear sizzling down her spine. She had reason to fear, despite her brave façade. Sif was better than her, and obviously had the means to kill her. “Why are you doing this?"

  "Because this time I want to be on the winning side, Athena. And that's what the Enemy does. It wins."

  "Not this time."

  "We'll see,” Sif laughed. She hung up.

  She's just trying to psych me out, Athena told herself. Worked, didn't it?

  * * * *

  "Do you think it worked?” The male voice was rough, the words slightly slurred by an unfamiliar accent.

  "Of course it worked. She's going to be jumping at shadows for the next week. By the time I'm ready to strike, she'll be all but exhausted. She'll probably put more energy into protecting her blond cop friend than watching her own ass."

  "If you say so. You want how many of my creatures, then?"

  "At least fifteen, preferably more. And no fucking goblins. They're practically useless—they don't follow orders worth a damn."

  "I can loan you twelve or so demons, and I've already got a few of the Fey warriors just itching to do something, preferably something that will screw with the humans."

  "This will do that, I think. Okay. I'd like you to send them to my place no later than the thirtieth. We'll need to go over the building plans.” She gave a low chuckle. “Athena will love the New Years blowout we're going to hand her."

  The male on the other end chuckled as well. “That's it, then. Until later.” He hung up.

  * * * *

  In the hotel basement, a cigarette sparked against the concrete floor, then was ground out under a booted heel. A hand reached into the telephone junction box and unclipped a set of wires. A tall, gaunt shape stepped out of the shadows into the dim light of the subterranean corridor and stretched. He'd been crouched there for far too long, waiting for a conversation he'd been beginning to give up on. But it had come and now he had a decision to make. It appeared that the Stormchild and the Trickster already had.

  He lit another cigarette and made his way to the exit, squirming his way through a hole down into the sewers. He stood in the dank, smelly underground and smiled, cigarette still clenched between his lips. He almost welcomed a fight with the goblins. Or even their new mistress.

  When none materialized, he sighed, threw the cigarette into the narrow stream of filth and run-off winding its way through the middle of the tunnel, and stomped off toward the west.

  * * * *

  Christmas morning. For the first time in memory, snow gently fell in Western Washington as the dawn broke, dusting the streets and lawns with a light covering of white. The downside to all this beauty, of course, was that cars were skidding into other vehicles, and plowing into streetlights, fire hydrants, and other incidental objects along their routes.

  Breed hated snow. Not just a little, but a great deal. It was cold, messy, and usually appeared at just the wrong time. Like today, when she was trying to get to the Shea building to help with security for Athena's charity affair.

  The Pierce Transit bus turned sideways on Pacific Avenue, blocking both the northbound lane and the light rail tracks just south of the 509 bridge, looked at first to be just another accident. It jammed up traffic all the way to Nineteenth, and threatened to back everything up all the way up the hill toward Thirty-eighth. Or, at least it would have on any other day. The streets were fairly clear this morning, thankfully.

  She pulled her car up next to the curb and climbed out, drawing her jacket closed. The snow had started falling harder and she blinked against the swirling sheet of white that threatened to impair any chance she had of seeing what was going on without walking all the way up to the bus.

  Something—or someone—lay in the middle of the street about thirty feet ahead of her. She jogged up to it and realized it was the bus-driver. She leaned down, checked his pulse, and breathed a sigh of relief to note he was still alive.

  As her hand touched him he stirred, groaning. “The bus."

  "The bus what? Are you hurt?” She knelt down beside him as he turned his head slightly to stare up at her.

  "Just my pride,” he grunted, rolling over. “God, I thought they were a group of kids. What a group of kids would be doing out this early on Christmas, I didn't stop to think."

  He was a fat little man, with round, pudgy cheeks half-caked with snow, making him look a little like Santa Claus. “What are you saying?"

  "They jumped me as soon as I opened the door,” he told her, struggling to sit up. She helped him up, then lifted him to his feet. He wobbled a little, but quickly found his balance. “Goblins. One of them said he's got a bomb."

  "Goblins? A bomb? Are you kidding me?"

  "Lady, do I look like I'm kidding you?” He patted his jacket as if looking for something. “Shit. I lost my cell somewhere."

  "Don't worry. I've got mine.” She handed it over. “Calling dispatch?"

  "The cops,” he answered.

  She nodded. “If it makes you feel any better, I'm a cop. Deputy Sarah Breed, Pierce County Sheriff's Department.” She flashed him her badge.

  "That's good, I guess. You don't mind if I call the local cops, do you?"

  "Of course not,” she answered, handing him her cell phone. “The more the merrier.” She looked up at the sideways bus, trying to see something—anything—through the fogged windows. “How many goblins?"

  "Six, seven, maybe eight. I'm not sure. They've also got a few hostages aboard."

  "Lovely.” She waited while he called it in, then accepted the phone back. She considered placing a call to Athena, but decided against it. The cops could deal with this one.

  Catching movement out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a bystander sitting on—of all things—a running motorcycle about twenty feet away. She wasn't sure, but she could swear he wasn't there even a few minutes earlier.

  He looked tall, even to her, even sitting on his bike. The first thing she noticed was his hair, raven black, straight, and long, hanging around the shoulders of his black motorcycle jacket. His features were dark, streamlined, with high cheekbones, aquiline nose, and a narrow slit of a mouth. He switched off the bike and walked over. “Is there a problem?” he asked, his voice carrying just a hint of some unfamiliar accent. Weird. She would have sworn he was Native American.

  Whatever he was, she found him gorgeous. He looked down at her with eyes like chips of polished obsidian deep enough she nearly fell into their depths. She gave her head a shake. “We're taking care of it,” she informed him.

  He produced a card with a distinct flourish, holding it out for her to take. She plucked it from between his fingers.

  Avatar

  Monster Hunter

  It also listed a phone number, s
he noted. “Monster Hunter?"

  He smiled, an expression that transformed his already striking face into something almost luminous. “Yes. I used to hunt people, but I find monsters to be far more challenging."

  She gave a half shrug. Considering some of the people she hung around with, he was no weirder than anyone else. “Fine. We've got a troop of goblins on the bus with a handful of hostages. One of them says he has a bomb."

  "A bomb. Huh.” He lifted his gaze to stare at the bus. “Look."

  Someone had wiped the fog off the driver's window. She could just make out the shape of a goblin's head framed there as the window was slid open and the barrel of what looked like a short rifle was stuck out.

  She shoved the driver back toward her car as a shot rang out and a bullet pinged off the asphalt a few feet away.

  Sixteen

  Avatar, the monster hunter, didn't bother to move, apparently unconcerned, as bullets continued to whip past him. He lit a cigarette and waited until the goblin had emptied its magazine before turning and unconcernedly strolling to where Breed and the bus driver crouched behind her car.

  "Goblins can't hit the broad side of a barn from the inside,” he muttered, leaning against her rear bumper and staring down at them. “Taking cover is a good idea, though. Give them an inflated opinion of their prowess. Wonderful tactic.” Breed wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or sincere.

  Another shot rang out and a slug skimmed off her roof. He let out a long-suffering sigh. “What do you think this is about, anyway?” he asked her. “It's very bold."

  "I was thinking that myself,” she told him with a shrug. “It's not like when they raid a mall or grocery store—then it's just about grabbing as many goodies as possible. This isn't a usual goblin strategy."

  "I'm thinking it's some sort of distraction. I assume you called the cops?"

  The bus driver nodded. “I did. And she's a cop."

  Avatar's eyes widened. “Never would've guessed. I'd imagine that's the reason for this—to keep you cops busy here while they pulled off something else. Rumor has it that the goblins are being led by some creature calling itself—herself—Kali."

  So she'd taken the name she'd been given by the press and Athena. Figured. Breed spared him a nod and peeked back over the car. The goblin appeared to be caught in the throws of physical disagreement with its firearm. She winced. “This is ridiculous."

  Avatar snorted. “No kidding. So, can you think of anything in particular this ‘Kali’ person would want to distract the police from for the better part of a day?"

  Breed's mind raced, but, when it came down to it, only one thing made any sense. “The Shea Industries Christmas dinner,” she said. “It's gotta be. Kali has a grudge against Athena Cross, the new CEO who's putting this whole shindig together."

  "Makes sense. Isn't she planning a big New Years Ball, too?"

  "I think she is,” Breed answered. “Unlike this one, that's for the bigwigs in the area."

  The goblin stuck its head out the window. “I got bomb!” it shrieked. “Anyone mess with me, I push button and bus go BOOM!"

  "So that's the leader?” Avatar asked.

  "Hell if I know. Seems like a good guess though."

  "Uh-huh.” Avatar glanced up past her and she followed his gaze to the squad of TPD cars edging their way down the Eleventh Street hill. “Well, the Calvary's about to arrive."

  "Which means this is about to get complicated. I really need to get to the Shea building. If I'm here when they arrive, I'm going to be more or less stuck until we resolve this situation."

  "What do you know about goblins?” he asked her.

  "About as much as anyone else. They're not too smart, they travel in packs, and usually the smartest and toughest one is the leader."

  "That's about right. We take out Osama Bin Goblin there, the rest will fold without a squeak."

  In one fluid motion, he drew a pistol from inside his jacket and fired a single shot in the direction of the bus. The bullet impacted the mouthy goblin in the center of his forehead, blowing him backwards out of view. “Bomb. Sheesh. Goblins are too fucking stupid to build a bomb, and no one who could would be dumb enough to give them one.

  "Right now the rest of them are staring in shock. In about ten seconds, they're all going to rush the door at once. They'll do a Three Stooges routine for a few more seconds, then all pile into the street in a mad rush to find someplace safe to go to ground."

  He put the gun away. “Get out of here. I'll handle the boys in blue."

  She treated him to a skeptical look.

  "I'm licensed and perfectly legal,” he told her. “You better go help your friend. If Kali's going to strike there, she's going to need you."

  She glanced at the bus driver, who shrugged. “If he's right about the goblins, everything's more or less handled. I'll leave you out of it if you like."

  She thought about it, then shook her head. “Thanks, but ... no.” She leaped to her feet and sprinted for the bus, drawing her weapon and skirting the front of the vehicle. As Avatar had predicted, several of the remaining goblins were packed tight in the doorway, cursing, biting and clawing one another to get out.

  She pressed the muzzle to one's bulbous head. “Why don't you just stay where you are? Much safer that way."

  * * * *

  Kali prowled in front of the nightclub door for a few minutes, dark eyes straining to see through the tinted windows on each side of the stained oak door marking the entrance. The few goblins she'd brought as an honor guard milled about, bickering and cursing at one another as they always did. She ignored it.

  After a moment of indecision, she stepped forward and kicked the door open, ripping it from its moorings and sending it crashing into the room. She froze in the doorway. It certainly didn't look like someone was hosting a free Christmas lunch/dinner for the city's homeless here.

  Instead, she found herself staring down the barrel of a very large weapon, in the hands of a smiling Athena Cross standing in the midst of a full-on spotlight. The room looked otherwise empty. The club was rather large, maybe encompassing as much as two thousand square feet. At the far end stood the bar, a long stretch of polished marble. To her right stood a fifty-foot stage, larger than she'd ever seen in a club. The floor was a mixture of black and white tiles, giving the whole place a certain Alice-in-Wonderland-like surreal quality. To the left she saw doors into the kitchen and a well-marked emergency exit. “Nice of you to drop by, but we moved the free food somewhere else. Sorry you missed out."

  Kali snarled wordlessly, eying the unfamiliar weapon. “Don't tell me ... the goblins blew it."

  From the shadows behind Athena emerged Sarah, who wore a shit-eating grin and held her own weapon—looked like a H&K 9mm handgun, she noted absently—trained directly at Kali's head. “You could say that. A bomb? Really? Puh-leeze. Goblins can't make bombs, and even you're not crazy enough to give them one. They wouldn't get out of the room without blowing everything to smithereens."

  Kali shifted her gaze back to Athena. The portable hand-cannon she was cradling made a bazooka look like a child's toy. She glanced down at it. “Worried about this? You should be. It's a particle accelerator I requisitioned from R&D. It'll punch a hole straight through you—one about the size of the Lincoln tunnel.” She shrugged. “Might not kill you, but I doubt it'll feel very good."

  "You've been a bad, bad girl,” Breed said brightly. “But we're willing to play nice if you are."

  Kali threw a glance behind her and, not surprisingly, found that none of her goblin minions had followed her in. In fact, they weren't anywhere to be seen. It figured. “Okay, I'll bite. What did you have in mind?"

  "We know what turned you into that, for starters. It's called a symsuit. It wasn't a gift. It's a collar. It marks you as a slave of the race who created it. No joke. I can prove it. Thoth?"

  Out of the shadows came another figure, this one an austere, monkish man with a shaved head and unremarkable features. “I've bee
n to their homeworld,” he said. “It's not pretty. None of the worlds they've captured are pretty.

  "They might promise you that you'll rule—and, well, I guess you could say that they'll keep that promise. But you'll ‘rule’ little more than a food ranch made up of your fellow human beings. You'll be expected to keep them in line so they can harvest people whenever they want. I understand they're particularly fond of the flesh of young children.

  "Would you like to see what your would-be masters look like?"

  Kali—the creature who'd once been Johnny Gitano, a man who once sought to control Tacoma's underworld—felt her stomach lurch quite unexpectedly. She would've sworn, only moments before, that she felt no particular loyalty toward her fellow humans. But the idea of serving them up for dinner didn't sit well. It made her head spin and her heart skip in her chest.

  They could be bullshitting her, she decided, but, looking at their earnest faces and dead cool eyes, she knew they weren't. “If this is true—what kind of collar is this? Can they jerk my leash whenever they want?"

  The man called Thoth shook his head. “No. Thankfully it doesn't work that way. They rule through fear. From what I've heard, when one of their ‘chosen’ goes rogue, they send something called a sym-killer after them. It strips them of whatever powers they gained by putting on the sym, and leaves them vulnerable to whatever else might come along.

  "So what are these things? If they're an alien race, I expect them to be alien, right?"

  "They are,” Athena answered. “Thoth? Can you conjure up—"

  "Way ahead of you.” The stark man reached into the air in front of him, made a couple of motions with one hand, and muttered something under his breath. A funnel of what looked like glowing gnats appeared between them, slowly coalescing into a solid image of something that looked vaguely familiar. The first thing that came to mind was a centipede, but one with huge, somehow malevolent eyes. “This is a Centian,” he said. “We usually refer to them collectively as ‘The Enemy.’ They devour worlds like a school of vicious piranha, for no other reason than to enlarge their collection of slaves and chattel."