by C. Gockel
“But we can’t world-walk!” says Bohdi. “We’re stuck here!”
One side of Thor’s mouth turns up in a twisted smile that somehow manages to be both wry and sad. “For now…but in a hundred years, maybe less, your kind will be traveling between realms through doors that never even existed before.”
Bohdi shrugs. “That doesn’t make us dangerous.”
Thor snorts. “Says the man who set Nornheim on fire.” Shaking his great mane, Thor says, “And when you can leave, leave you will. You will spread out through the Nine Realms and nothing will ever be the same.”
Bohdi’s face must be broadcasting his incredulity, because Thor leans forward and says, “The most humble among you has more magic at his fingertips than the other races would ever dream of. Why, think of the sprites you speak with in your phones!”
Bohdi gapes for a second, and then squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his forehead. “Thor, there aren’t sprites in our phones.”
Thor’s chair squeaks again. Bohdi opens his eyes to see the space Viking’s brow furrowed. Thor’s lips purse. “Ah, that’s right. Sprites are tiny elves, you can’t squeeze an elf into your phone!”
Bohdi lets out a breath.
Thor smiles. “You have spirits in your phones.” He looks up. “Although the word I seek may be closer to kami, there’s no English translation precisely, but they are spirit-like consciousnesses that inhabit all things.”
Bohdi blinks. “No, Thor, we’ve programmed our phones to do simple tasks…”
Thor nods. “Spirits are very simple. Loki said some sorcerers can communicate with them. The one time he tried wasn’t very helpful…although, I truly believe the rock wanted to give us directions.”
Bohdi feels his nostrils flare. Tapping his fingers on the couch, he says, “There are no spirits in our phones, Thor.”
The big man smiles slyly. “Are you sure? Everything exists as both matter and energy, Bohdi. Your quantum theory tells you that.”
Bohdi blinks at Thor. The implications of that are interesting…
And then his jaw gets hard. Thor still hasn’t answered his question. “Why did you lie to Odin?”
Thor’s smile melts away. “There was my oath…”
Bohdi shakes his head. “But you’re not going to tell Odin now that you brought me safely home.” Bohdi’s not sure how he knows it, but he does.
“No.” Thor frowns, and a crease settles in his brow. “The Norns…and Frigga…have given me much to think about.” Swallowing, he says, “Ragnarok has begun. Heed Frigga’s plea… It is mine as well.”
Bohdi slumps against the back of the couch. Ragnarok? He’s heard that word before…
Shifting in his seat, Thor says, “Son of Patel—there is one more thing.”
Bohdi looks up. Thor is leaning forward, elbows on his thighs. There is something about the weariness in his expression that makes him look ancient. “If you know you are destined to die in pain, think hard about what you find worth dying for.” He gives a weary half-smile.
With a soft exhale, and a loud squeak from the chair, Thor stands. Coming over he puts a hand on Bohdi’s shoulder. “We will meet again Son of Patel. Burn bright.”
Thor’s eyebrows rise a little, as though he is waiting for Bohdi to say something in return. But Bohdi has no words. He just slouches into the couch and looks at his feet.
Thor turns and leaves the room, and Bohdi bites his lip. And then he remembers there was another mystery he wanted an answer to.
x x x x
Exiting the women’s locker room, Amy surveys the comfortable yet rather stylish workout gear Beatrice supplied her with. Yoga pants, a T-shirt that’s a little too tight, and a zip-front sweatshirt that won’t quite zip all the way up. She puts her hands into the pockets of the sweatshirt. On one side, Squeakers is curled up in a warm little ball. On the other side, she still has one Archaeopteryx feather—she had relinquished the other to the FBI.
“Told you it would fit,” says Beatrice. She hands Amy a spare winter coat from the lost and found. Before Amy can put it on, Beatrice gives her a hug. “I’m so glad you’re back. That is never going to happen again!”
Amy pats her grandmother. Something hard under Beatrice’s coat at the level of her left hip catches her attention. “Grandma, are you still packing?”
Pulling away, Beatrice grins, eyes sparking beneath her straight gray bangs. “Yep. Legally now.”
“Uh-huh,” says Amy. From her pocket, Squeakers gives a cheep.
Someone clearing his throat nearby catches her attention. Amy turns to find Bohdi, still in Asgardian attire.
Hands in his pockets, Bohdi says, “Can we talk?” His eyes go to her grandmother. “Alone for a minute?”
Beside Amy, Beatrice whispers, “He obviously doesn’t know I’m packing.”
Amy shoots her grandmother a glare, but Beatrice is too busy glaring at Bohdi to notice.
“Yes,” says Amy, her heart giving an extra thud. “Yes, a talk would be…fine.”
Giving Beatrice what she hopes is an appeasing smile, she follows Bohdi back into the conference room, stepping over some broken electronicky thingies on the floor as she does.
She’s not sure what she expected him to ask her, but when he closes the door behind her and says, “So…when we lied and said Frigga told us about the tunnels…how did you really know the way out?” Her heart sinks a little.
Swallowing, she looks to the window, still curtained. She promised to tell him.
Shoving her hands into her pockets, she says, “Loki gave me his memories.”
Bohdi tilts his head. “What kind of memories?”
Amy shrugs. “I guess…all of them?” Unable to meet his eyes, she says, “I sort of stumble on them when I need them, they’re not at the forefront of my mind all the time. It kind of makes sense, the brain isn’t a whole bunch of highways, it’s a whole lot of side roads and—”
“He wanted to protect you,” says Bohdi.
Amy stops, words dying on her tongue. Her eyes go to his. His face is very serious. But then it has been since before they left Asgard. It makes her a little sad.
Bohdi nods. Voice very somber, he says, “He knew Odin would get his hands on you eventually, and he loved you and so he made sure you were protected.”
Amy’s mouth drops open. And then she shakes her head. “No, no, he gave me his memories so that I could remind him who he was, and what his oath was. He didn’t do it for me.”
Bohdi cocks his head. “His oath?”
Amy sighs and looks down. “He keeps oaths, even across lifetimes.” She smiles tightly. “His last oath was to have Odin kneel before him while all of Asgard burns to the ground.”
Bohdi snorts.
Amy looks up to see him rolling his eyes.
“Well, that’s kind of extreme,” Bohdi says, shaking his head. “Odin’s a dick, but not everyone in Asgard is.” His jaw tightens…and something in Amy loosens and uncoils.
She feels the corners of her lips turn up. Bohdi isn’t Loki. His highest ambition isn’t to destroy a race.
“Yes,” she sighs. “It’s extreme…and no, Loki didn’t love me…” She swallows, not sure why it’s important he know that. Maybe she’s just trying to keep it straight in her own mind?
Bohdi raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? It seems to me that Loki might not be the most reliable narrator.”
Amy blinks. That is possibly the nicest thing anyone has said about her relationship with Loki since…
She looks away. “You talked with Thor?” she says.
Bohdi shrugs. “Oh, yeah. They still haven’t found Loki.”
Amy frowns and Bohdi adds quickly, “But don’t worry…I’m sure he’s…you know…okay.”
Amy swallows.
“He’ll find you,” says Bohdi, softly.
She takes a breath. It’s important Loki find her, and she vowed to help him…but she’s no closer to finding him than when she left for Nornheim. She shakes her head. “
How…?”
Will she find him? What will she do when she does? And how can she reconcile a life with this burden?
Bohdi coughs, and she looks up to find a mischievous grin on his face. He gives her a wink. “You know…there might possibly be magic involved.”
Amy stares at him, and then remembers those were her own words about Nidhogg’s ability to fly. She laughs, and Bohdi’s smile broadens. She takes a step toward him, or maybe he takes a step toward her, or maybe both, but they’re suddenly very close.
There is a click, and she turns sharply to see the door swing open. It takes her a moment to recognize the silhouetted figure there. It’s the pretty agent from the photo of Bohdi at the ball game.
“Am I interrupting something?” the agent says, looking between the two of them.
“No,” says Amy, doing a pretty good job of not sounding guilty…even if it feels like the woman is interrupting something.
“Um,” says Bohdi.
The agent rushes toward Bohdi, arms outstretched. “Oh, Bohdi I’m so glad you’re back.”
Amy’s jaw drops as the agent wraps her arms around Bohdi.
“Erm…” he says right before the agent plants her lips on his.
Or maybe the agent hadn’t interrupted anything. Face heating, Amy breaks for the door. She’s just stepped out into the hallway when Beatrice’s voice calls out. “Oh, there you are…”
“Let’s go,” Amy says quickly, heading toward the elevator.
x x x x
Bohdi gently pushes Marion away. It’s nice to be welcomed back, but the timing and Marion’s particular brand of enthusiasm… He looks toward the doorway, and winces remembering the hurt and embarrassment he saw in Amy’s eyes.
Marion follows his gaze. “I did interrupt something, didn’t I?”
Bohdi’s eyes snap to hers. Her brows are knit with concern. Because maybe they don’t love each other, but they do care.
She pulls back, her eyes searching his face. He can’t read her expression. She definitely doesn’t look happy, but she’s always been clear that the “ship” in their relationship was going nowhere. He looks to the door. He wants to chase after Amy…and he can’t think clearly…and doesn’t know how to spare Marion’s feelings if he has hurt them. “I don’t know,” he says truthfully.
She gives him a smile that is knowing, and maybe a little sad. “Yeah, you do.” She looks toward the door, and back to him. “Shouldn’t you go get her?”
“I, uh, maybe?” Bohdi says.
Marion rolls her eyes. Inclining her head to the door, she says, “Go.”
Bohdi gently squeezes the top of her arms and kisses her cheek. “Thanks,” he says.
She gives him a nod just before he runs out into the hallway. He doesn’t see Amy. He darts toward the elevators and hits the button. He stands for a few minutes in front of the doors, tapping his hand against his thigh.
The doors don’t open. Spinning, he goes to the stairs. Barreling through the fire doors, he takes the steps two at a time until he reaches the lobby. It’s nearly six thirty. There are a lot of people heading home, but he doesn’t see Amy there, either. He pats his pocket and realizes he doesn’t have his phone. And he doesn’t even know her number.
He’ll find it. Bohdi dashes back up the stairs to his cubicle. It takes him only a few minutes to find her number. He dials it with the phone on his desk, his mind racing trying to think of what to say. He hears ringing on his phone, and then his heart leaps when he hears a corresponding ring just a few cubicles away. Leaving his phone on the desk, he races toward the sound…
…and finds Brett and Bryant holding up Amy’s cell phone.
“Huh,” says Brett. “It still works.”
Bryant shakes his head. “But with the amount of water damage it sustained it can’t be reliable.”
“Where’s Amy?” Bohdi says.
The two techies turn to him with what feels like agonizing slowness. They shrug. “We were just going to exchange this thing for a new phone,” Bryant says. “Since hers broke in the line of duty.”
From behind Bohdi, comes Steve’s voice. “She and Beatrice left.”
Bohdi’s body sags. He turns slowly to his boss.
“What’s wrong?” says Steve.
Bohdi’s mouth opens. He can’t meet Steve’s gaze. Hadn’t Steve warned him not to get involved with anyone in the office? Didn’t he say that it always ended badly? Bohdi had thought he’d proven Steve wrong—but now he’s lost his chance at, well, something…because of his own…
His hand goes to his pocket, and wraps around his lighter. Because of his own chaos.
Odin’s voice rings in his ears. He destroys everything and everyone he loves.
Bohdi looks down at the floor and remembers Amy bleeding in the snow. If he cares about her even a little, he should probably stay away from her…
“Bohdi?” Steve says.
Bohdi shakes his head, remembering Steve’s question. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong.” Even if maybe everything is.
He looks up to see Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Uh, huh.” Steve takes a step forward. “I could use a drink…” He puts a hand on Bohdi’s shoulder. “And if I’m drinking, you’re drinking.”
Odin’s voice rings in Bohdi’s mind again. He will die in pain and fire.
“A drink sounds good,” Bohdi says. Or more accurately, getting drunk to the point of oblivion sounds good.
“Come on, let’s go,” says Steve, guiding him toward the elevators.
And why not indulge in a little self-destructive behavior? Bohdi finds himself smiling tightly.
What does he have to lose?
A Sneak Peek At Warriors, Part V of I Bring the Fire
Bohdi fucked up. Again.
The steam on the windows obscures the Chicago streets. The windshield wipers, sound of rain on the roof, and blast of the defroster are too loud; the lull in conversation is oppressive.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Bohdi slides his hand to the door latch and pulls. The door doesn’t open. His stomach sinks. “Let me out,” he says, skin heating.
“Are you sure?” Amy says.
Not looking at her, he snaps, “Yes, I’m sure. Let me out.”
He hears her swallow. “Okay, just let me pull over…” She steers the car to the side, just behind a line of idling cabs.
“I’ll meet you there,” Bohdi says, still not looking at her. Jumping from the car, he slams the door.
He doesn’t look back. Pulling up his collar, he shoves his hands into his pockets and bows his head to the frigid April rain. He’s just a little to the east of the Gold Coast, and about four blocks from the hotel where the reception-thingy is. By the time Amy parks, he may even get there before her.
“Have a light?” says a man with a heavy accent Bohdi can’t identify.
Bohdi stops and turns, and finds himself face to face with a short, thin, dark man most likely of East Asian descent. A cigarette is dangling in his mouth and he’s wearing clothes that scream Salvation Army. Standing beneath the awning of a dingy-looking little restaurant advertising Pakistani and Indian food, he is passing a box of cigarettes between weathered hands.
Raising an eyebrow at the smokes, Bohdi says, “I’ll give you a light if you share one of those.” If your destiny is to die in flame, at least it can be at the sweet end of a cigarette.
The man narrows one eye, and draws his head back.
Bohdi shrugs. “My girlfriend’s trying to make me quit.” He gives what he hopes is a what-can-you-do smile.
The man’s frame softens, and he nods. Taking out his lighter, Bohdi lights the guy’s cigarette. Taking a drag, the man hands Bohdi the box.
As Bohdi takes out a cancer stick, the guy gestures with his head in the direction Amy’s car went. “The blondie your girlfriend?”
Amy’s hair is light brown, but Bohdi supposes if you were fresh off the boat, you might classify her as blonde.
Lighting his own cigarette, Bohdi, says, �
��Yeah.”
It’s a lie. Amy Lewis is not, and never has been, his girlfriend. Not in this life anyway. He fucked up that chance royally months ago. And it’s probably a good thing. Odin’s voice rings in his mind, “He destroys everything and everyone he loves…”
Not that Bohdi’s in love.
The door to the restaurant opens and three more guys join them under the awning. They start talking to Bohdi’s new friend in a language he doesn’t know. They laugh and the first man turns back to Bohdi. Pointing at his own crotch with his cigarette, the man says. “Is she a blondie below, too?”
Red shadows move at the edges of Bohdi’s vision. Taking a long drag, Bohdi quirks his eyebrows at the little man. The guy and his friends laugh.
Exhaling, and flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette, Bohdi grins. He puts the cigarette back into his mouth. Still grinning, he curls his hands into fists.
x x x x
Where is Bohdi?
Amy Lewis scans the hotel ballroom. There are rows of chairs and long tables covered with pristine white cloths facing a stage. There is an empty podium there, an enormous screen behind it. The tables are set with icy pitchers of water. In front of every chair are folders emblazoned with the logo “Chicago Technomagic Initiative.” It’s some group Steve, ironically Mr. Non-Science, had a hand in beginning.
The show hasn’t begun yet, and the lights in the ballroom are all on, the attendees milling about. They are scientists and press primarily. Here and there a flash goes off. The meeting is supposed to be some reveal of some great big technomagic breakthrough that Steve said Bohdi and Amy would love. When they pressed him for details, he’d waved a hand and said, “You know I don’t do science. Wait and see.”
She expects Steve will be officially announcing his intention to run for mayor tonight, too. He’s in the lead even though he isn’t even on the ticket.
Squinting, she scans the crowd. Where could Bohdi be? She looks to the side. There is free food, fruit and sweets, coffee and tea. Bohdi loves science. And free food. Not necessarily in that order.
