I Bring the Fire Part IV: Fates: The Hunt for Loki Is On

by C. Gockel

  She begins walking out of the room.

  Pointing at Amy’s bare feet, one of the maids presses her hands to her mouth. “Your new shoes!”

  Voice inflectionless, Amy mutters, “Oops, they must be back in there with the spidermouse.”

  The maid’s eyes go wide, both hands flying back to her mouth. She looks at the bathroom door and quakes.

  Amy walks right past her and into the hallway, Bohdi beside her. As soon as they leave their room, the Einherjar snap to attention. Gabbar barks something in Asgardian. He turns to Amy and Bohdi and says, “It is not quite time for your audience. I will see that you get some time…alone.”

  “Um…thanks?” says Amy, eyes sliding to Bohdi.

  He rubs the back of his neck and looks away. “Errrr…yes….” It doesn’t come out quite a squeak.

  x x x x

  A few minutes after the “spidermouse infestation evacuation,” Bohdi and Amy are in a little room with two huge windows with long black curtains and a couple of not very comfortable-looking wooden chairs, and not much else. There are two doors: the one they came in and a second, larger wooden door. Gabbar gives Bohdi a pat on the shoulder and then leaves the way they came in, shutting the door behind him.

  Amy spares Bohdi a confused look, and then slips on her shoes and makes a beeline for the second door. She starts yanking on the handle. “Damn, it’s locked!” she mutters.

  She’s trying to escape. Escape is good. Bohdi starts dragging his hands along the walls. “Maybe there’s a secret passage in here,” he whispers.

  “No,” Amy says. “But there’s one through this door, in Odin’s private library.”

  Bohdi’s head jerks up. “How do you know that?”

  Giving the door a bang with a small fist, Amy growls.

  “Amy?” says Bohdi.

  Not looking at him, she says, “The same way I know Asgardian.”

  “Oh,” says Bohdi. Deciding he can ask questions later, he pulls out his knife, flips it open, and goes to the door. “Maybe I can pick the lock.”

  Amy slides to the side as he slips the blade between the door and the wall. He tries to feel for a weakness, but the bolt feels solid and firmly in the strike plate. Falling to one knee, he keeps trying.

  “What’s up with Gabbar?” Amy asks.

  Not looking at her, Bohdi grunts.

  “Bohdi?” says Amy.

  He winces. Keeping his blade moving, eyes away from her, Bohdi says, “Well…he mentioned…if Odin’s intentions toward you are romantic…”

  Amy snorts. Bohdi scowls. He just can’t bring himself to describe what Odin’s intentions could be. “…there may be an option.”

  “What’s that?” says Amy.

  Bohdi slides the blade out. Still on one knee, he turns to Amy. She is wearing a bra…or something that is bra-like beneath the mosquito netting. His eyes grow wide, he licks his lips, time stops…

  Amy swallows audibly and crosses her arms over her chest. “Bohdi? Bohdi, up here…”

  Bohdi blinks and looks up, feeling his face flush. Even he knows you’re supposed to look a girl in the eyes when you speak to her. “Ahhhh…”

  She’s blushing. She also looks sad. Though why she should be sad with breasts like those…Bohdi opens his mouth to say something to that effect, but then realizes that they may be in a life or death situation here, and he probably won’t be able to think if he’s staring. So he says, “Would you like my vest?”

  Amy smiles. “Oh, thank you, I’m cold.”

  “I noticed,” Bohdi says, slipping off the vest, causing Mr. Squeakers to peek from the pocket.

  Amy’s eyebrows rise. Snatching the vest from his hands, she puts it on with such speed and force Squeakers gives a surprised sounding cheep from the pocket.

  Bohdi goes back to finding a weakness in the lock. There is a large, old-fashioned keyhole below the knob. It’s too small for his knife. His brow furrows.

  Above him Amy huffs. “They’re only mammary glands.”

  Bohdi tries to focus on the lock, but what he saw moments before rises to the forefront of his mind. “That’s like saying the Mona Lisa is only a painting.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest, even though it’s sadly well concealed by his vest. “You’ve just been culturally sensitized to find mammary glands sexually appealing.”

  Turning his head, Bohdi looks up at her. “I feel sorry for the man who is culturally desensitized to their appeal.” He holds up a hand. “Do you have a hairpin?”

  Fishing around in her hair, Amy glares down at him. “Someday, they’ll be hanging down to my knees.”

  Bohdi draws back at the image. “Why did you have to say that?” Amy holds out a little golden bobby pin thingy. As he takes it, she says, “Because it’s true, and that’s why women don’t like just being appreciated for their boobs.”

  Bohdi shrugs and examines the hairpin. “I’m sure there’s lingerie to handle that sort of problem…besides you’re smart, too.” He tries to break the pin in half. With more wiggling than he’d expect it, finally snaps apart. He slips half of it into the lock and applies pressure.

  “So, what was up with Gabbar?” says Amy.

  The half-pin gives…too much. Bohdi grimaces, pulls it out, and sees it’s hopelessly bent. He looks up at Amy. At least she doesn’t look mad anymore. “Um, well, he said…that if I was an Einherjar, and we were…”

  He stalls. Amy lifts an eyebrow.

  Bohdi licks his lips. “Together in a serious sense…”

  “In a serious sense?”

  Swallowing, Bohdi looks away, “As in married… Odin would probably leave you alone. Bros before…”

  He stops and meets her gaze. Oops.

  “Hos?” Amy supplies.

  “Not that you’re a…”

  Amy rolls her eyes. “How delightfully patriarchal.”

  Bohdi bends the hairpin back into shape and pulls out his lighter. “I was going to say just plain sucky.”

  As he holds the pin over the flame, she says, “At least you get a little bit of a choice.”

  Bohdi turns to face her. “No I don’t! I can’t…” Abandon her. Spitting on the pin, he mumbles, “You wouldn’t let go of me in Nornheim.” Slipping the pin into the lock, he releases a hiss of disappointment when it gives too much again.

  “I don’t want to marry you, either…” he says. And then realizes he might be burning a bridge, to other not-marriage things, that he actually would really like. He turns to her. “Not that you’re not…”

  “I think you’re all right, too,” Amy says softly.

  “Errrr…right,” says Bohdi, although the word on the tip of his tongue was hot. “But…”

  “We’ve only just met,” says Amy.

  Bohdi was going to go with marriage is fucking scary, but says, “Yeah, that. But I thought it could be the backup plan…you know…”

  “Plan Z, if you will,” says Amy.

  “Yeah,” says Bohdi, glancing up at her. She’s smiling. A little. He scowls down at the hairpin. “I don’t think this is going to be strong enough, heating and cooling it rapidly was supposed to…”

  There’s a creak from the door they entered, and the sound of boots on stone. All the hair on the back of Bohdi’s neck rises. He’s kneeling on the floor by the door to Odin’s library with a makeshift lock pick in his hand and he has to—

  Amy grabs the hand holding the makeshift pick with both of hers. “I accept!” she says, giving a little bounce, slipping the hairpin covertly into her hand and smiling widely. “I accept your proposal!”

  Someone claps. Bohdi glances toward the door and catches Gabbar smiling and nodding. And then he realizes what Amy’s done. It’s sneaky and wonderful; but as he rises to his feet, his legs feel like limp noodles.

  Amy leans closer and smiles up at him in a very good imitation of adoration. Running a hand through his hair, he looks down and forces a smile in return. It’s only a trick, a fake acceptance to a non-marriage-proposal.
Why is his dinner threatening to make an encore?

  In Hindi, Gabbar says, “It is a glory to die with honor.”

  Oh, yeah. Odin might kill him.

  As they leave the room, Bohdi feels like his heart might beat out of his chest. The guards lead them down a short hallway. Too quickly, Bohdi finds himself facing double doors nearly twice his height. Swimming before his eyes on the doors’ obsidian-black surfaces are gold inlay images of people turning other people into shish kebob. The guards bark in Asgardian and then Gabbar holds out his hand. “Your knife.”

  Bohdi reaches into his pocket…hesitates…but then hands it over.

  He still has his lighter. And Amy has their phones in his vest.

  They’re so dead.

  Gabbar says something to the guards in Asgardian. They nod at him once, and once at Bohdi. The doors swing open and light spills into the hall, so bright it burns Bohdi’s eyes. The guards fall to their knees and beat their chests. Bohdi thinks maybe that is what he’s supposed to do, but he’s paralyzed.

  In the dimming light, he sees a long dining table with seats for at least thirty on either side. It’s decked out in white and red tablecloths and fruit in golden bowls. Instead of butterflies, the room is lit by candelabras, blazing with flames that are too bright and too orange.

  At the far end of the table sits Odin, elbows on the table, hands loosely clasped in front of him. The king wears armor but no helmet. His long gray hair is immaculately groomed. On either side of him stand Asshole One and Two. Asshole One leans in and whispers something. Odin doesn’t move, but he speaks, his voice weirdly sounding right next to Bohdi’s ear.

  “Ms. Lewis, you have brought your…friend.”

  Amy slips her arm through his. Bohdi feels Amy shiver, but her voice is steady when she answers. “Yes.”

  Odin raises a finger. Asshole Two leans in and whispers something. Odin does not appear to acknowledge it. He sits perfectly still eyes on Bohdi. Bohdi can hear his heart beating in his ears, all sorts of unpleasant scenarios play out in his mind. But then Odin says, “You may both enter.”

  Her arm tightening in Bohdi’s, Amy steps through the threshold. Bohdi manages to make his feet follow. As they walk toward the far end of the table, he hears the doors shut behind them.

  Approaching the Allfather, Bohdi drops his eyes, and notices a teapot that looks like it’s made of solid gold, and delicate white china cups. He smells fresh coffee. He hasn’t smelled coffee since they left Earth.

  One of the Assholes bows behind a chair right next to Odin. “Ms. Lewis, please sit.”

  Amy hesitates, her arm tightening in his again, but then goes and allows herself to be seated. The servant goes to the chair next to hers, and says, “Mr. Patel?”

  Sliding into the seat, Bohdi realizes with a start that he and Amy never discussed what plans B through Y were. His eyes slip to Amy; it may be a trick of the light, but the healthy tan she picked up in Nornheim appears to be gone. He looks to the Allfather.

  Odin is sipping an amber liquid from a shot glass. Up close, he’s a lot taller and broader than Bohdi remembers. Bohdi bites back a grimace. On his throne, Odin had looked weary and ancient. Now, the way he sits, the easy movements of his arm—he looks like he could deliver a punch.

  One of the servants says, “Coffee, tea, something stronger?”

  “Something stronger,” Bohdi says. Amy’s eyes snap to him, wide and round.

  Lifting a finger, Bohdi amends. “…Would be nice. But I’ll just have coffee.”

  “Me, too,” says Amy.

  Odin raises an eyebrow but is silent as the servants fill cups for Amy and Bohdi, place them on saucers, and then set them in front of them.

  Bohdi stares down into the swirling brown and inhales. It smells really good. Too good. It could be drugged; this could be a trap.

  “Cream and sugar?” says one of the servant guys.

  Bohdi jumps in his chair. “Errr…” And then he has a daring thought. Giving a sort of half shrug and what he hopes is a playful grin, he says, “So is this poisoned or anything?”

  One side of Odin’s mouth quirks slightly. “You are insolent to insult my hospitality.”

  Bohdi bites his lip and lifts his hands. “Actually, just completely terrified.”

  Odin stares at him. And then the other side of his mouth quirks. “As you should be. But there is no poison in the refreshments—magical or otherwise.”

  Bohdi has no urge to sneeze. He opens his mouth to ask for cream and sugar and then realizes that might look too trusting.

  He sits back in his chair and tries to look doubtful.

  “I just wish for you both to feel at home,” says Odin. He tilts his head. “Which is why I haven’t had you flogged for failing to kneel. Twice.”

  “Ah.” Pursing his lips, Bohdi looks hard at the serving ware. “I’ll take cream and sugar then.” As the servant-guy pours both into his cup, Bohdi says, “This smells really good, by the—”

  “It’s not our home,” says Amy.

  Bohdi lifts the coffee to his lips, eyes going from Amy’s face to Odin’s.

  “But it could be, Miss Lewis,” Odin says.

  “No, it can’t,” says Amy.

  No one says anything for a few heartbeats too long. Bohdi takes a sip of the coffee, slurping a little bit to remind himself that he still exists; Amy’s and Odin’s eyes are so fixated on each other he’s beginning to doubt.

  Neither of them spares a glance at the sound. Bohdi thinks he might snap from the tension. And then he does. “They do have good coffee,” he says.

  Both Odin and Amy turn their heads to him. Odin’s lips quirk. Amy’s do not.

  Bohdi shrinks in his seat. “Just sayin’.” He takes another sip and looks pointedly into the cup.

  “I’m glad you like it,” says Odin. He turns to Assholes One and Two and says. “You’re dismissed. We are not to be disturbed.”

  Bohdi’s jaw sags a bit. No servants. No guards. Odin must not think he or Amy is a threat. He gulps. Maybe because they aren’t. Beside Bohdi, Amy slumps and slides her hands into the pockets of the vest.

  As soon as the Assholes are gone, she says, “We know about your attack on Earth.”

  Bohdi starts a little. She may be afraid, but she’s not playing nice, or dumb, either. He sits a little straighter.

  Voice firm, Odin says. “I did not attack Earth.”

  Bohdi’s eyebrows hike. He has no urge to sneeze.

  “I attacked a few rogue nations who were supplying Dark Elves with weapons,” Odin says.

  Bohdi’s eyes widen. That’s a reasonable interpretation…

  “Those elves were in turn trading those weapons with Fire Giants. I attacked the problem at the source—and saved countless lives in the process.” Swirling his glass, Odin gives a rueful smile. “You have no experience with Fire Giants and so don’t understand. Years ago, I had the gates between the realm of the Fire Giants and Earth destroyed… If they go on the warpath in the Nine Realms, with human weapons, the devastation to elves, Vanir, Asgardians, dwarves, and Frost Giants would be on a scale not seen since Earth’s last great war.”

  The Allfather tilts his graying head. “But perhaps, Miss Lewis, you think the lives of humans are more valuable than the lives of the other races of the Nine Realms?”

  Amy sags in her seat. Her cheeks flush.

  Odin raises an eyebrow. “Of course, you do not. You are a moral creature, and kind.”

  Dropping her head, Amy’s eyes rapidly scan the table, as though she seeks to read some secret in the linens. “But…you want to control everything.”

  “Want to control?” Odin says, his voice gentle. He huffs softly. “I want peace, Miss Lewis. I am a child of war. I have seen horrors far worse than were inflicted on the Fire Giant you briefly met today.”

  Bohdi inhales. His nose doesn’t itch. At all. This isn’t right. This is the point where Odin is supposed to be having an evil monologue. Bohdi grips his coffee cup in two hands to
warm them; they suddenly feel cold.

  Shaking her head, Amy does not meet Odin’s eyes. “No. You controlled Loki, you deceived him, used him… You never let Loki know what he was and—”

  “Yes, I used Loki. Like I use everyone,” Odin says. “For the higher good. And I kept the truth from him, for his own good.”

  Again there is no lie. Bohdi’s gaze flicks from the Allfather to Amy. Her head is still bowed.

  Leaning toward Amy, Odin says, “Do you think, Miss Lewis, that you are the only person who has loved Loki? He has been my friend, my companion, my right hand, and my brother for lifetimes.” Odin shakes his head. “It is true, in his last lifetime, I did not let him know what he was, but it was an act of kindness.”

  Amy finally lifts her head. “You didn’t want him to know he was your equal.”

  Bohdi lifts his cup to his lips, but pauses before sipping, eyes flicking between Amy and the Allfather.

  Odin’s jaw goes tight. “By hiding his identity, I protected him. Do you know how many enemies he has made over his lifetimes? How many would like to see him die slowly and painfully while they watch?”

  Bohdi goes very still.

  “You could have told him at least what he was!” Amy says.

  Odin inclines his head. “Really? You think it would be better for him to know the truth? The incarnation of chaos is destined to live a life of struggle. He destroys everything and everyone he loves and brings them despair, strife, conflict, and pain. You think it better that he know he is destined to die in agony and fire?”

  Amy sucks in a gulp of air too fast, and stammers. “There is no destiny.”

  Bohdi feels no desire to sneeze. His hands start to shake.

  Odin leans forward. “His first wife killed herself. His first child was so twisted by the strength of her own magic it warped her body. His second wife divorced him, and still wound up taking an arrow to the chest and found herself engulfed in fire. His sons by her—” He shakes his head.

  Coffee sloshes over the edge of Bohdi’s cup and onto his hand. Shakily, he tries to gently place it down, but his trembling hands make it clatter against the saucer. His eyes snap to Odin and then to Amy. Neither of them seems to have noticed.