by C. L. Roman
Air exploded from Surt's lungs as Jotun slammed him against the brick wall. The angel's rage congested features filled his vision. "You will not endanger this mission with your blood-lust."
"A man's got to eat, my friend," Surt wheezed.
"You are better fed than you have been in months." Jotun released him and walked away. "And you are not a man."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Loki pointed the remote at the television, flipping between play and rewind on the news story he had recorded the night before. It appeared that Jotun hadn't changed much in the last six thousand years. Not that he'd ever known him personally, but he'd heard things.
"Not exactly hearts and satin, are you, friend?" he muttered at the TV. "So what are you doing in New York, hanging out at Fashion Week, if not for the obvious reason?"
He rewound and played the video back again, scanning the audience, but seeing no one familiar. He played it again, this time watching for that first moment when Gwyneth recognized her husband.
There — she stops cold, staring at the back of the auditorium. Loki grinned appreciatively when Gwyneth made her fantastic leap. In the background he saw a streak of light that could only be Jotun escaping out the side door.
"She sees you, and you run away. If we didn’t already know, that would be proof that something isn’t right with you. Members of the Host don’t run," Loki mused aloud.
The cameraman didn't catch the events outside the door, but that was fine. He'd seen that part first hand. Standing in the atrium looking up hadn't been the best view, but he'd caught the gist. And a photograph, as it happened.
Pulling out his cell phone he flipped through the photos he'd shot when he realized what was happening. Gwyneth, on her knees on the landing, Jotun, torn and pain-filled, Jotun confused, Jotun nearly collapsing as the agony hit him again.
"So I was right. You are definitely off your game and therefore no threat to my plans.” Loki scanned the pictures, finally selecting one in particular and sending it via text message. “That doesn’t mean you can’t help me though.”
Flipping over to the phone feature, he tapped a favorite.
"Oris? I think I have a way of getting her to cooperate."
Sitting at the breakfast table in Faiza's sunny kitchen, Gwyneth heard the four tone glissando from her phone indicating she had a text message. She picked it up.
Meet me in Central Park, by the fountain in the Conservatory Garden.
Gwyneth stared at the text and its accompanying picture. Jotun, caught as he was bolting through the hotel's front doors, looked sick and weaker than she had ever seen him.
Who are you? How did you get this number?
Money buys many things. If you want to help him, meet me at 1 this afternoon.
How did you get this picture of Jotun? Do you know where he is?
Her fingers skated frantically over the keys, making errors, backing up, re-typing. Finally she hit send and waited, but there was no response. She pushed the call button and listened to it ring until it went to a generic voice mail.
It was Loki. It had to be. Few people knew of her search for Jotun and none of them had reason to contact her this way. How had he gotten her number? She shook her head and checked the time on her phone. The digital readout said eleven thirty.
She tapped in a number and in two rings, Cole picked up. "I am not going to be able to attend the meeting today," she stated.
"Why? What's happened?"
In a few terse sentences she explained about the text. "I have to meet with this person. He may —"
"This person?" Cole scoffed. "You know it's Lokstrum. Who else knows about your connection to Jotun but doesn't dare come right up to you and talk to you? You can't meet with him Gwyn."
"I have to. The private investigator has been working on this for weeks, without a single clue, let alone a sighting. And then yesterday... He had a picture of him, Cole. Loki — Lokstrum was there."
"All the more reason to steer clear of him. He's stalking you."
"I do not know what this stalking is, but it does not matter. He said before that he wanted to help. Maybe he does."
"And maybe he wants to sell you to a Russian drug lord or a slaver or something. You overheard him talking to someone about it for Pete's sake."
"I heard him say I must come willingly. I am not willing."
"And you think that will stop him?"
"We are to meet at the fountain in Central Park. He cannot be hoping to kidnap me in such a public place and I promise you I will not go anywhere with him."
"I'll meet you there. What time?"
"You do not have to do this," she said. "You are working, I know. I will see you after."
"What time Gwyn, or I'll ask Amal to follow you until I can get there."
She released a heavy sigh and said, "All right. One o'clock, but stay out of sight. I do not think he will like if you are there."
"Lokstrum can go piss up a rope for all I care. He is not getting a clear shot at you if I can help it. Information or no information."
"Ah, Gwyneth. It is lovely to see you. I'm so glad you decided to come." Loki held out his hands to her but Gwyneth kept hers firmly in her pockets.
"You said you could help me find Jotun. How?" she asked.
A woman with a stroller hurried by, the baby inside bundled warmly against the cold. Bright sunshine illuminated the winter dressed gardens. The fountain was an empty, white basin on their left. Two joggers ran past in the opposite direction and Loki frowned.
"All in good time, my dear. Sit with me here," he said, indicating a park bench. "And I will endeavor to provide us with some privacy." He scowled in Cole's direction. Honoring Gwyneth's request, the designer had taken up a position leaning against a lamp-post less than twenty yards distant.
Gwyneth complied and Loki took a seat beside her, making a discreet, swirling gesture with his hand as he did so. She felt a light pressure against her skin and her ears popped.
Eyes wide, she started to her feet, but he held up his hand and smiled. "Nothing to be alarmed about my dear. I've just given us a bit of privacy, but if you break the current, the barrier will be gone. Not a significant problem, but such constructions do take a bit of energy and I am a bit tired this morning, so if you don't mind..." he let his voice trail off and indicated the seat beside him.
"You are an angel," she said, her voice flat.
He grimaced. "Not anymore."
Her tone became accusatory. "You said you were Nephilim, like me —"
"I did not," he said. "In fact, I believe I said specifically that I had more in common with your husband."
"Only angels can do what you just did. Angels and..." her voice trailed off and her eyes widened. She stood abruptly and felt the bubble around them pop. A freshening breeze rushed into the vacuum, ruffling her hair and tossing leaves along the sidewalk.
"Gwyn?" Cole's voice floated to her and she took a step toward him even as Loki grabbed her wrist, moving in step with her. Through a haze of gray smoke, she saw Cole rushing along the path and then they were through, standing in the intense cold of the Shift.
"Do not touch me!" She shouted, throwing off his hand. Along the periphery of her vision she saw pin pricks of light revolve and orient on her. She shuddered and pulled her jacket closer.
"As you cannot leave here and return to New York without me, you will need to rethink your position." He spread his hands. "Gwyneth, if I wanted to, I could have killed you by now. I could disappear and leave you here. The lights would transport you to the devil knows where. Please believe me, I am here to help."
"Then why bring me into the Shift? You know I cannot survive here. Once again you deliberately put me at a disadvantage."
"Only momentarily. I will take you back to Central Park at your say so. I only want your promise that you will listen to me.”
The lights were moving closer now, the temperature rising. Leaving New York now would end any chance of finding Jotun. “All right, but
Cole will want to join us. Your little trick will have worried him.”
Loki’s mouth tightened but he nodded. “As you wish,” he said, and held out his hand. Reluctantly, she placed hers in it and they stepped out of the Shift in front of the park bench. Cole was nowhere in sight.
“What did you do, Loki?”
An expression of mild surprise lifted his features. “I? I did nothing. Apparently your friend did not think you worth waiting for.”
“Or he’s gone to get help.” She sat down on the bench with an odd feeling of sadness. “You said you had news. What is it?”
He sat down next to her and swirled his fingers again. Gwyneth felt the now familiar change in air pressure and the breeze fell away.
“You did not guess wrong. I chose the wrong side in the war, but I’ve learned my lesson. I don’t work for either side now.”
“You must serve someone Loki. Such is the nature of life.”
“I serve myself. No one else. But that is beside the point. Jotun’s reactions to you prove that he has taken a contact burn.”
“You told me this before.”
“Yes, well, then you understand how messed up his head is right now. You saw how he didn’t know you?”
She nodded, her eyes brightening with restrained tears, and he hurried on. “That’s called amnesia, only he hasn’t forgotten everything, and he obviously has some sort of delusion with it. Humans call it schizophrenia, or dementia or half a dozen other names depending on what form it takes. From the way he’s acting, I’d go with the first one for Jotun.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he keeps calling you Freya, right?”
“Yes, yes, the Norse ‘goddess’ who is real, but that he’s probably never met.”
“Right, from centuries ago. That’s his delusion, where what’s real gets mixed up with things that aren’t.”
Gwyneth sighed. “Again, this is not new information. Do you know how to help him, or not?”
Loki rubbed a hand over his mouth. “The truth is, I don’t know.”
Gwyneth stiffened and Loki held up his hands, flat, palms out in a placating gesture. “Wait, I said I didn’t know. But I can take you to someone who does.”
Suspicion stirred with the echo of Cole’s warnings. “Is this someone a Russian drug slaver?”
Loki’s mouth dropped open. “A what? No. I can assure you the person we are going to meet is not Russian.”
“It doesn’t matter. If I go with you, who is looking for Jotun?”
“What good does it do to find him, if we have no cure to offer when we do?”
A sudden, humming vibration shook the air around them and Loki looked up, clearly annoyed. A foot away, Cole stood, his fists crashing soundlessly against nothing. Gwyneth turned a questioning look on Loki and he shrugged. “It’s meant to keep others out, not you in. Stand up. It will dissipate.”
She did and found him truthful. For the moment.
Cole surged between them. “Gwyneth, what happened? One moment you were standing there and the next,” he snapped his fingers, “nothing left but gray smoke and empty air.”
“We came back within seconds,” she said.
Cole stared at her. “Gwyn, you were gone for three hours. I called the police.”
“Loki?” Gwyneth said, folding her arms across her chest.
He shrugged. “Small time displacements aren’t uncommon. Very difficult to get back to exactly the same spot you left. My fault entirely. Look,” he said, tapping at his phone. “Take these as a gesture of good faith. Put them up on social media. People love a good romance. If he’s out there, in this form, they may be able to help you find him.”
Her own phone let out a series of glissandi and when she checked, she saw that Loki had sent three additional pictures. “It is a good idea,” she said. “Thank you.”
She took Cole’s arm and would have left but Loki’s words stopped her. “What about the other thing?”
She eyed him narrowly. “You are not honest, Mr. Lokstrum. You have an agenda I do not understand. If you really want to help me, bring me the information I need rather than seeking to isolate me.”
Dark color suffused his face and he reached for her, but three officers rounded the fountain and he dropped his hand. Forcing a polite smile, he said, “As you wish,” and walked away.
One of the cops called after him, following him around the curve of the pond out of sight. In a few minutes the officer returned, alone and looking confused. “He’s gone. Must be speed walking to have disappeared that fast.
A grimace of bitter humor touched Gwyneth’s face. “He is a very fast person. Thank you officers, but as you can see I am safe and sound. I got a bit turned around in the park and had difficulty finding my way back.”
Cole flushed, but said nothing and one of the officers chucked him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry buddy, I was in love once. Hated it when she was out of my sight.” He keyed the mic on his shoulder and called in a successful conclusion to the search. “Dispatch, this is Simons, we have located the 10-65 in Central Park. Just a misunderstanding.”
Dispatch acknowledged and the officers dispersed with a stern warning about what constituted an actual emergency.
Alone again, Cole stood looking up at her. “You want to explain to me what just happened? I saw the two of you disappear.”
She closed her eyes and sat down on the bench. “Cole...I don’t know how to explain this in a way you will accept.”
He looked away over the park for a moment. “You’d be surprised at what I might be able to believe.”
“It’s going to sound crazy.”
“Neither of us is crazy.”
Her eyes widened and a huff of laughter escaped her. “Ah, well, at least no more so than anyone else. But you are, despite your artistic ability, an eminently practical human, whereas I...” she took a deep breath and pressed it out between pursed lips. “I am — not. At least not entirely.”
“You aren’t practical?” He attempted a smile. “I wouldn’t say that. A bit old-fashioned maybe, but not — But what does that have to do with —“ he waved a hand behind them at the fountain, indicating the general area.
“I meant I am not completely human.”
He sat back on the bench and observed her. He tipped his head from side to side and said, “Yeah, I’d buy that. So, you’re what? Part giant? Like Hagrid?”
“Who is Hagrid?”
“Never mind. You were saying?”
“Yes, well, I am part angel, on my father’s side.”
For a long, incredulous moment, he said nothing. Then he laughed. “You can’t be serious. There’s no such things as half-angels.”
“Oh? But giants exist?” She rolled her eyes at him and stood up. “You can choose to believe me or not, but I am telling no lies. I am Nephilim. My father was Nephel, headman of our village and half angel. My mother was human. I met Jotun in my eighteenth summer and we married. On my wedding day I discovered my heritage and the fact that I was about to marry an angel.” She smiled. “How do you say it? Literally.”
“So, what? You’re immortal then?”
A shadow chased through her eyes, but she answered without hesitation. “No. I will die just as all humans die. It might take me a little longer. Amal said most humans these days have only eighty or ninety years. I had aunts and uncles who lived two or three times that. My grandmother is said to have died at 372 of a snake bite.”
Cole cleared his throat. “So, how old are you now?”
She thought about it for a moment. “I suppose that depends on how one measures it. I was newly nineteen when the flood came. Then we were here.”
“That would make you...” He paled. “Never mind. What did he tell you about Jotun?”
“The response you are getting from your pictures is amazing, Gwyneth.” Faiza scrolled through the Instagram feed, stopping occasionally to favorite one of the comments.
Gwyneth sighed. “Yes, but not particula
rly helpful.”
“True, but you posted them this morning. You have to give it time.”
“I have my doubts. It was Loki’s idea, after all, and I have the oddest feeling that the last thing he wants is for me to find my husband and help him get well.” The women were speaking Arabic. It was Gwyneth’s most proficient new language and the easiest for the women to converse in.
“Well, whatever his motivation, it is a good idea. All of New York and most of New England is looking for Jotun. If he is on the East Coast, someone will see him.”
Gwyneth frowned. “I feel helpless, Faiza. He is out there, wounded, sick, and here I am in safety and comfort but I have no way to get to him.”
“Give it time, dear one. Someone will see him.”
“Maybe. But there is something...” Gwyneth fell silent for a moment. “You know, when you feel like you are forgetting something, something important and you just can’t catch the thought?”
Faiza came up and placed her hands, light and gentle, on Gwyneth’s shoulders. “I know that if you don’t go get dressed, you will never make the banquet by seven.”
“I would really rather not go.”
“But you promised Cole, and so you will go.”
Gwyneth nodded. “And so I will. You should come too.”
“To a dinner for models? What will they serve? Carrot sticks and lettuce leaves? No thank you. I will be here, eating dinner with my family, living the glamorous life vicariously through you.” Faiza ended in a theatrical pose, both hands lifted artfully to snap her fingers as she threw her head back — an old Hollywood movie star waiting for her close-up.
In spite of herself, Gwyneth felt a laugh bubble through her chest. “All right, I’ll go. After all, how can I let you down?
“Exactly so,” Faiza said, pressing her toward the door. “Go on, get ready.”
An hour later, Gwyneth bent to seat herself in the limousine Cole had insisted on sending for her. Created from a modified SUV it had far more headroom than a regular car and Gwyneth was grateful not to have to scrunch down in a taxi cab tonight.
As she exited the limo, she was surprised by a fusillade of camera flashes and the roar of the crowd around the entrance, most of them with pen and book thrust out, begging for an autograph. She signed as Cole had taught her, still confused as to why anyone would want her name on a blank sheet of paper. Cole and Xavier fought their way to her, taking up positions on either side and she hid a grin. Once inside, the noise instantly subsided, the security guard on the door apparently all the deterrent the crowd needed to keep them outside.
