by C. Gockel
Loki had blinked. “Who told you I slept with dwarves?” That had been before they were together, he hadn’t thought she’d known—quite frankly, he’s shocked that she married him if she did know. Even for a man, sex with dwarves was decidedly…unsavory.
Sigyn had just rolled her eyes. “Who haven’t you slept with, Loki?”
Ord’s hand falls on Loki’s shoulder. “Loki, are you all right?” Loki silently curses him for being so kind.
At just that moment, one of Odin’s ravens flies in an open window. Landing on the table it bobs its head and says, “Hi ya, Loki! Just saw Valli and Nari with Odin.”
Sitting up straight, Loki meets its beady eyes. Odin never has audiences with Valli and Nari. This is just a not-so-subtle reminder that Odin holds the fate of Loki’s family in his hands.
Cocking its head, the raven rawks. “Don’t you have an errand to do?”
Loki’s hands curl into fists at the implicit threat. “Right,” he says. Wishing he’d tried harder to get drunk, he stands and says his goodbyes.
When he arrives at Freyja’s home, he is greeted by Valkyries and Einherjar guards at the front door, and one very nervous servant girl. With a tip of her head, the servant says, “Right this way.”
Following the girl, Loki scowls. He had expected the servants to be dismissed so that this bit of business could be kept as quiet as possible. His skin heats, and his fist clenches at his side. At least he won’t have to fake wanting to smack Freyja.
The servant turns down a corridor Loki has never been down before. Halting before a set of double doors, she throws them open, and beckons Loki to enter.
Stunned by what he sees, Loki enters, his ire momentarily forgotten. He is in a library. Shelves stretch upward at least three stories on all sides. They are overflowing with clay tablets, books, and scrolls of parchment, silk, and papyrus. Light streams from a circular skylight overhead. The light falls in a golden curtain upon Freyja, bent over a desk, her cats on either side of her.
She wants help clearing her desk? Well, at least this is slightly different…
Looking up from where she is sitting, Freyja gently lies down an enormous quill pen. “Ah, Loki…”
Her voice is faint, unusually uncertain. Even when she requests to be humiliated, or thrown over a knee, Freyja is demanding.
Immediately on alert, Loki scans the room, almost expecting to see her Einherjar or Valkyries slip from the shadows.
Freyja waves her hand, and the servant disappears, closing the doors behind her.
“We are alone,” says Freyja, stepping around the desk. Her movements are unusually hesitant.
Smirking, Loki takes a step forward. “A new game, Freyja?”
Grecian garments are the style of the day, and her dress is open in a deep V at the neck. Trailing her fingers down the bare slope of her skin, she says, “I’m not playing a game, Loki—but you are.”
Her voice isn’t accusatory. It’s soft, as are her eyes. Tilting her head, she says, “The only question…is why?”
Taking a step forward, Loki grabs her wrist. Freyja’s mouth opens, and her pupils dilate. She trembles under his hand and swallows. “I want this…”
“Well, then—”
Twisting her wrist, and pulling back with her considerable magical strength, Freyja frees herself with frustrating ease. Quickly putting her other hand on Loki’s chest, she pushes him back, gently, but firmly. “But you don’t, Loki. So why are you here?” The warm pink of her magic rises in the room.
If she were angry, Loki might fight. But her voice is soft and soothing.
Freyja licks her lips. “I’ve always been able to see who a man’s in love with…” she looks Loki up and down. “And right now, you are in love…with your wife…” She huffs, a gentle laugh, that is somehow empathetic and not mocking. Loki’s fists unclench.
Shaking her head, almost sadly, Freyja says, “Being in love won’t stop a person from taking a lover. But we both know Sigyn would have your head if she found out.” Meeting Loki’s eyes, she reaches up and touches his cheek. “And you wouldn’t risk it,” she whispers, her eyes wide, as though seeing something for the first time.
She pulls back, and her mouth drops. “Loki, you’re not here for yourself…” Her voice trails off. “Odin…he wants something.”
Loki takes a step back and stumbles on a cat, threading its way between his feet.
“Whatever he is offering,” Freyja says, as Loki regains his balance, “I can match it.”
Loki raises an eyebrow. There is nothing she can offer more valuable than the lives of his sons.
Freyja steps forward, putting her hand on his arm. Her magic rises around them again, and something else twists with the pink of her aura, darker and warmer. He cannot and doesn’t want to move.
“It’s not riches, or power, you want…” She draws her head back, as though surprised. “Those things don’t mean much to you…”
Pulling his knuckles to her lips, she kisses them. It’s oddly not erotic; it’s maternal. Loki stands transfixed, unable to move or even think.
Freyja’s eyes widen a fraction. “I can help you take care of them, Loki. I can help you take care of your family.”
Gasping, Loki drops his head. Overwhelmed. Freyja can be loving… How had he not known?
Still stroking his cheek, Freyja whispers, “I have the hearts of the people of Asgard, and the swords of all the Valkyries and half the Einherjar. I can protect you, and them.”
Loki wants to fall to his knees, lean into her, and beg her for her help. His chest is filled with warmth, with love ignited by her caring. He almost does fall…but then something dark and wicked whispers in the back of his mind. When has Freyja ever asked him what he wants? And how is it that now she just knows?
“I will rule all of Asgard,” Freyja whispers. “And if you tell me what he’s after, you will have a powerful friend.”
Loki’s suddenly aware of Freyja’s magic glowing around them, but he can feel reason, like an icy snake, crawling up his spine. When has Freyja ever been his friend? Where was she when he was in the cave?
And even if she were his friend…Odin was his friend once, as well.
Loki takes a small step back, a rueful smile coming to his lips. “And then you can blackmail me, too?”
Freyja’s brow tightens. Her mouth opens, and she looks like she is going to refute him—but then she steps back. She reaches her hand to her neck and brushes the bare skin of her throat and shoulders, and sighs. “I will do what is best for Asgard. And what is best for Asgard will be good for your family, too.”
Loki looks into her eyes. She’s not lying…at least from her perspective. Loki takes another step back. The shift from emotional appeal to logic is sudden… If she had continued on her path of emotional manipulation, it would not have worked. When did she become so sensitive?
His jaw clenches. He still needs to find the necklace…Maybe he can trick her into revealing it.
“And what do you offer Asgard that Odin does not?” Loki asks.
Freyja straightens. Her voice becomes cool and professional. “Asgard is stagnating under the weight of Odin’s magic.” Taking a step forward, she says, “Our young take centuries to mature…and there are so few of them…”
Loki’s lip twitches. Her words ring true. There are a dwindling number of children. The task of raising them over centuries is something that few want to undertake more than once or twice in a lifetime.
“And you think this is Odin’s magic?” Loki asks, trying to look like he’s bored as he covertly scans her desk.
“I know it is,” says Freyja. “The same thing happened under the rule of my grandfather.”
Loki’s head jerks toward her. He had not known that. Freyja’s Vanir grandfather had ruled Asgard, before Odin slayed him…
Stepping closer, Freyja says, “And the young who mature in body never mature in mind. They play games of war and think that it makes them warriors. They are idle, lazy, a
nd weak.”
Giving her a too brittle smile, Loki says, “I prefer my boys lazy and alive.” He looks down. One child is enough to lose in a lifetime.
Freyja takes a tiny step forward.
Loki looks up to see her stroking her neck. A tiny frown slips across her lips and then disappears. Hand still on her neck, she says, “I’m sure we can work something out…”
A frantic pounding sounds at the door.
“Come in,” Freyja says.
The servant bursts into the room. “My Lady,” she gasps. “Master Ord is here, and the Allfather is approaching.”
At that moment, Ord’s voice echoes down the hall. “Wife! Where are you? Something is…”
Ord is suddenly in the library. He sees Loki and Freyja standing together. Frowning, he says, “…amiss.” Eyes shifting to Loki, face hard, he says, “I thought you had an errand to do for Odin?”
Loki smiles tightly at him.
From down the hall comes the sound of boot steps. The Einherjar who’d been guarding the door comes into library and bows. “The Allfather is here.” His eyes go to Loki. “He is accompanied by your sons—among others.”
“Show the Allfather and his companions in,” says Freyja with a tight smile.
Loki finds himself backing toward the bookshelves as Odin enters the room with two members of the Diar, and four of his own Einherjar warriors. Standing between the warriors are Nari and Valli. They’re both golden haired like their mother. They’re as tall as Loki, but broader. They have Loki’s features, but they have Asgardian coloring—they’re tanned; they don’t sport Loki’s Frost Giant pallor.
Freyja’s own guards stand nervously just behind Odin’s entourage. Ord’s hand casually drops to the pommel of his sword.
“Father?” says Nari. Loki hazards a look at his son. Nari looks distinctly nervous. He is unarmed and wearing not a shred of armor. Valli is similarly dressed, but his face shows only curiosity.
Turning to Freyja, Odin says, “We were just on our way to go hunting and wondering if you’d like to join us?”
It’s an obvious lie and a threat. Loki grinds his teeth…It would be very easy for Odin’s warriors to kill Valli and Nari in a hunting excursion.
Freyja laughs. Sounding a little tired, she says, “Loki failed, Odin.”
Loki turns to her, shocked she’d call Odin at his game.
One side of Odin’s lip curls up. “Did you fail to find the necklace, Loki?” he asks.
“What are you talking about?” Ord says.
Freyja sighs and strokes her neck. “Finding the necklace would be impossible, even for Loki, because the dwarves have it. You’ve lost, Odin…”
“This is ridiculous!” Ord shouts. “Freyja turned the dwarves down. All of Asgard knows it!”
The Einherjar on either side of Loki’s sons step closer. Have they been instructed to kill Loki’s sons right here? He stiffens. How dare Freyja call Odin on his game and put Valli’s and Nari’s lives at stake.
Stepping forward, pink magic rising around her, Freyja says, “Do not take it out on Nari and Valli.”
Loki’s anger washes away at her words. She’s not playing with his sons…she wants to save them. Loki turns his eyes to the so-called Goddess of Love, Beauty, and War. For the first time, he thinks even he might love her. Sunlight is streaming down on Freyja, as though Asgard’s star is in love with her, too. For a fragile moment, Loki sees Freyja as a queen, proud, wise, firm, and caring. He sees all of Asgard basking in her reflected glow.
Dropping her hand, she inclines her head in Loki’s direction. “Your faith in this fool is just a symptom of your decline.”
The spell shatters. Loki takes a step back and hits the bookshelf behind him. A scroll falls to his feet.
Odin chuckles. He looks to Loki and says, “My faith is not misplaced. Loki, where is it?”
Loki’s mouth opens.
“It’s with the dwarves,” Freyja says, the lie sending shivers down Loki’s spine.
“Loki?” says Odin.
Loki looks between Freyja and Odin. One, at least, has some faith in him…And also has his sons nearly at sword point.
“I’m done with this,” says Freyja, taking a step toward the door—and the Allfather.
“Where is it, Loki?” says Odin. Loki looks toward his sons, and swallows.
“I don’t have it,” says Freyja, the lie prickling Loki’s skin.
He doesn’t know and…
Loki’s jaw drops. Freyja is a master of illusions, she’s always been adept at appearing as what a man—or woman—wants to see. Her spell is so strong, she fools her lovers’ minds into believing they feel what they want to feel: softness, strength, or taut skin on bone. She’s always been able to do that…but love is deeper than a beautiful shell. Love is an accident that comes from being what a person needs at the right time.
“Loki,” says Odin. His voice is deep, rich, almost fatherly.
“I know where it is,” Loki says.
Freyja’s hands go to her neck. With eyes almost pleading, she says, “Loki, I’m sorry, I…”
The gesture, the sudden empathy she’s never had before. All doubts are erased from Loki’s mind. “She’s wearing it,” he says.
“Liar!” says Ord.
Loki closes his eyes, concentrates, and wills the magic swirling around Freyja to still, the tiny photons passing through the chain he knows is there to show themselves and reveal the necklace.
Ord makes a choking noise.
“It’s a trick,” says Freyja.
Opening his eyes, he sees Ord ripping a golden necklace from Freyja’s throat. Ord lifts the tiny slip of gold, so fine it might be silk, to his eyes. Then he drops it to the floor, spins on his heels, and leaves the room.
“Ord!” says Freyja, trying to rush after him.
Odin raps his spear, Gungir, on the floor. “Stay, Freyja. We need to talk.”
“We’re not going hunting?” says Valli, sounding distinctly disappointed. Wide-eyed, doubtlessly aware of the danger they were just in, Nari turns to his brother, mouth gaping.
Loki massages the bridge of his nose. Love for children has nothing to do with them being the right person at the right time.
x x x x
Amy looks down at the phone pieces spread out on her coat.
Despite the smoke, the sun is making sweat prickle on the back of her neck.
Bohdi is still lying with his head hanging over the side of the log. His eyes are open, but he’s very quiet.
She’s just about to ask him if he’s all right, when he says, “So…what happened to Freyja?”
She lets out a relieved sigh. “Odin made her part of the Diar…and ordered everyone in the room to keep quiet about the necklace. But he didn’t open the Diar to anyone else, like Freyja had originally suggested. And anytime she stepped out of line, he threatened to reveal the necklace to all of Asgard.”
She blinks and idly studies the blank surface of her phone. “It was kind of brilliant actually…Just enough carrot and stick to keep her in line.”
She shakes her head. “Sometimes Odin would use Freyja’s abilities to seduce his enemies. She could look like anyone…and with the necklace’s power to see into hearts…she could be anyone… Odin used her to blackmail them, sway them, or sometimes even kill them…”
Bohdi coughs. Amy looks upriver. She swears the fire is getting closer.
“Frieda was kind of Steve’s type…” Bohdi whispers. He pushes himself up on his arms and Amy quickly moves the coat out of the way.
Pulling himself into a sitting position, he says, “Super tall, with long legs, and they were talking law and shit for hours…”
Despite the heat, goose bumps rise on Amy’s skin.
Looking up to the sky, he says, “Up until the point when she invited me back to her hotel…I thought…that there might be something there between them.”
Amy feels her body relax.
Bohdi runs a hand through his hair. “Ah�
�my brain is just on the crazy train. I mean Steve’s not that important…He’s just a mid-level bureaucrat, right?”
Amy starts to reassure him, to say that Steve isn’t in any danger. But she can’t. In another universe, Steve Rogers was one of the first people a nearly omnipotent Odin put to death.
Bohdi wraps his arms around himself. His clothing is dry, but he shivers. He’s not quite looking at her eyes when he says, “Aren’t you cold?” He shivers so violently his teeth chatter and doesn’t so much lie back down, as fall.
…And Amy knows she has more immediate concerns than Steve and Freyja.
Chapter 15
Garbage blows through the underpass beneath Congress Parkway and Des Plaines Avenue. Beside Steve, Beatrice says, “This isn’t a gate to Nornheim. We’re wasting our time.”
Steve can’t look at her. His attention is riveted to Gerðr. She’s not wearing any magic-blocking helmet or cuffs. In her heavy down jacket, borrowed boots, and ill-fitting jeans, she shouldn’t be so alluring.
Standing facing him, Gerðr’s eyes are closed and she’s whispering words he can’t hear. Steve can almost imagine her… He turns around and finds himself staring at the backs of Brett and Bryant. Besides Beatrice, Stodgill, Brett, and Bryant are the only members of ADUO Steve trusts for this little assignment. They all have the dubious distinction of believing that Loki was being controlled by Cera when he attacked Chicago. Stodgill because, “If he was so intent on conquering the world, why would he disappear right when he was about to win?” Beatrice, Brett, and Bryant because, “Loki was an ass, just not that kind of ass.”
“Is she done yet?” says Brett, snapping Steve from his reverie.
“Can she put the hat back on?” says Bryant.
“Mmmm…” is all Steve can manage to say. Forcing himself not to turn around, Steve looks up Des Plaines Avenue. There are no ravens in sight; they’d managed to give Steve’s minders the slip. It’s close to dusk and lights are coming on in the homes of the high-rise condo buildings. Most of the homes will stay dark. Magic is still in this town, and it brings only destruction; they haven’t learned to harness it. Hell, the scientists he’s talked to say they don’t even know what it is.
