by C. L. Roman
"Your tricks will not work on me, as you should know." Jotun ignored the proffered hand, staring into Loki's face. "I have no time for foolishness. You know me as I know you, as you know my mission."
"And what might that "mission" be?"
Jotun turned away. "What the mission of the fire giants has always been. I am to bring Ragnarӧk to pass, and cleanse the world of evil." The doors of the hotel swished shut behind him, leaving Loki standing alone and open mouthed in the lobby.
Passing through the revolving door of the hotel, Jotun allowed his disguise to slip away, exiting as a tall, blond Nordic with cool blue eyes and an athletic physique.
Two women sauntered toward him, one tall and very thin, the other equally tall, but with more generous curves. Both looked as if they had just stepped out of the latest issue of Vogue. The thin one looked into his face with a cat-like smile and then gasped, tugging on her companion's arm.
"'Livi! That's him!"
"Who are you talking about?" Livi followed her friend's gaze and stopped short. "Oh. My. God. Alexandria, it is him!"
Jotun would have walked by, taking no notice of either woman, but Alex grabbed his arm.
"What's your hurry, gorgeous? Jotun, isn't it?"
He stared at her hand on his arm and then into her eyes. "I do not know you."
She pouted. "No, but we can fix that, can't we? Why don't you let me buy you a drink?"
"Alex..." Livi shifted from one six inch heel to the other. "The news said he's sick. Maybe we should..."
"He doesn't look sick." Alex allowed her gaze to sweep over him and then peered at him through her lashes. "As a matter of fact, he looks deliciously healthy."
"Alex, he is married. We should take him to Gwyn."
Alex threw a scathing look over her shoulder. "That bitch got me fired." She turned a seductive smile on Jotun. "And I say, finders, keepers. How about that drink?"
Jotun pried her fingers free of his arm and stepped away. "I don't think so."
"Bastard!" The woman called Alex grabbed her friend's arm and stomped into the hotel. A man hurried up to her, talking fast and holding a microphone.
Ignoring them, Jotun skirted the hotel and rounded the corner to the service alley. The street lights made little difference to the darkness where Surt was leaning against the brick building, waiting.
"Did you get it?" His partner levered himself upright as Jotun held out his phone.
"See for yourself," he said. A small icon blinked red and green at them from the screen. Jotun tapped it and a new screen slid into view.
"That's his email?" Surt asked.
Glancing over his shoulder, Jotun took in the steady stream of passersby — each one a stranger and a possible threat. "His email and everything else he does on that phone. We need to move."
"Getting jumpy, Jotun? We didn't need to risk leaving him alive. We could have —"
But Jotun was already walking away. He slid Surt a sidelong glance as the demon caught up. "As I told you before, killing him is the bigger risk. We've seen how quick they are to change their plans when they perceive a threat."
"Yes, and I thank you for that little lesson, but —"
"Enough. He is more use to us alive than dead. We need to find out where the missiles are stored and then find a way to get the launch codes."
"We could always build our own bombs," Surt grumbled.
Jotun rubbed his fingers over the pain in his forehead. "We could, but finding enough of the necessary materials might take months. No, we stick with the plan."
"Either way, we can finish discussing it at the hotel. Come on."
Jotun stepped away from him. "I need time to think. I will meet you there."
The demon snickered, but refrained from comment and stepped into the Shift alone, trailing black smoke and the smell of sulfur on the night air. Jotun turned the corner and reached the intersection. Waiting for the light to change, he thought about hailing a cab.
"Hey, she was telling the truth! That's him! Jotun, can you answer a few questions?"
Jotun spun around and reached for Hamar in the same motion.
The reporter rushed forward, heedless, and thrust a mic into Jotun's face. "Can you tell us where you've been?"
Another ran up, shouting her questions as she came. "Have you reunited with Gwyneth? Are you going to join her at the reception this evening?"
"Are you cured then?"
"What made you abandon her in the first place?"
"Do you know where you are?"
The questions flew at him like hail stones, peppering him without giving him a chance to respond. Flashes of light stung his eyes and he took a step back, tempted to abandon his human stature but restraining himself. They didn't need pictures of a giant on the news. The same thought kept him from vaulting into the sky.
And I'll be burned if I'll run from this carrion.
The questions continued without respite. The reporters had him surrounded, backed against the hotel's ornate architecture. In desperation he resorted to the response he'd seen a Senator give recently. "No comment."
The screech of tires and the smell of burnt rubber nearly made him groan aloud.
How many reporters does New York have, anyway?
"Jotun!" The voice came from the back seat of a cab. An auburn haired human gestured to him, his eyes black with compulsion. "Come with me."
Feeling the power of command, Jotun didn't think, he moved. In an instant he was in the cab with the door slamming shut behind him. Only then did he look into the gray eyes opposite him and wonder why he was there.
The man stuck out his hand and Jotun grasped it without thinking.
"Cole Delaney, Mr. Jotun. Very pleased to meet you."
"Just Jotun is sufficient. And I do not know you."
"No, but I know you...or rather, someone close to you."
Jotun's right brow rose. "And who would that be, Mr. Delaney?"
"Well, I'm not sure how to say this." Cole bit the inside of his cheek and frowned at Jotun for a moment. "I know your wife, Jotun."
A jolt of pain prodded the base of Jotun's skull. "I have no wife."
Cole shrugged. "I have it on good authority that you do."
"Whose authority?"
"Well, your wife's actually."
"And who is she? This 'wife' of mine?"
Cole sat back in the seat and Jotun could almost see the list of answers running behind his eyes. "Do you really not remember her? How could anyone forget Gwyneth?"
"You mean Freya." Jotun put his hand on the door handle.
"Wait!" Cole lurched forward and grabbed Jotun's leg. "You have to listen. Then, if you don't believe me, I'll let you go."
Jotun laughed. He couldn't help it. "You'll let me go?" He laughed again and relaxed into the seat. "How can I refuse such generosity? Say your piece Mr. Delaney." His face hardened. "And be quick."
"Call me Cole, please."
Jotun's eyes were a glacial blue. "You are wasting time."
"Right, well, from what Gwyn says, you two were married not that long ago, or a really long time ago, depending on how you count it, but I'm thinking that for you, it feels pretty recent."
"You are not making sense." Jotun reached for the handle again.
"No, wait; you came here, escaping from the flood. You brought Gwyneth with you. She's not Freya, she's your wife. Whoever told you she was Freya was lying. Anyway, when you came here, you were injured. That's why you can't remember anything. It's why you don't know who you are."
"I know exactly who I am. I know my mission."
"Yeah? And just what is that mission?"
"Ragnarӧk is not something you would understand."
"Try me." Cole waited, but Jotun only stared at him. "Fine then, but at least come and tell her why you abandoned her. She loves you and you are breaking her heart."
"She cannot love me. We have never met."
"You have to try and remember. She's your wife." Cole's eyes burned with sincerity and something
twisted in Jotun's mind, struggling to surface. He closed his eyes and watched. Memories of a woman, her hair flashing in the sun as they danced, her mouth sweet and soft beneath his.
Jotun gasped and shoved the images aside. "It is a lie. She has sent you to distract me, to make me doubt my purpose."
Cole was staring in horror at a wiki page on his cell phone. "Ragnarӧk? You mean to destroy the Earth?"
Pressing his hands against his aching skull, Jotun sent Cole a bloodshot glare. "We will cleanse the Earth of evil. It is ordained."
"By who?"
"By Sabaoth?"
"Who is...you mean God?"
"It is not ours to question."
"It seems to me that if you're bent on destroying the Earth and its entire population you better make sure of who's calling the shots. Who told you this was your mission?"
"Surt helped me to find my purpose."
"And Surt is an angel too?"
"He is not."
"I'm guessing he's not a human either, given this "mission" of yours. Even the Jihadists don't want to destroy the whole Earth. So, let me take a wild guess. He's a demon?"
"He is a fire giant," Jotun said, the words forcing their way past his clenched jaw.
Cole pressed his advantage. "I'm thinking it’s the same difference. So tell me, was it also Surt who told you Gwyn's name was Freya, and that she was your enemy? Does that feel true to you?" Jotun turned his head away, but Cole wasn't finished. "One last thing; when did God start working with the devil?"
With each question, a new storm of agony raged through Jotun's mind until he roared with pain. Shoving he car door open, he leapt from the moving vehicle into flight without ever touching the ground.
Cole stared up into the night sky. An arc of gold light traced the angel's path against the pale stars and Cole watched until Jotun disappeared from sight. He slumped back into the car and picked up his cell phone.
"Gwyn? I found him."
CHAPTER NINE
"You will ruin everything!" Surt flipped the coffee table over with a splintering crash and scooped up a half empty beer. He chugged the remaining liquid and flung the bottle at the wall. "You should have killed him, not told him our mission."
"And what will he do about it? How will he convince anyone that there is a real threat?" Jotun rested his aching head against the ice pack in his palms, his words a muffled rumble.
"You have not lived in this realm. There are terrorist threats every day!" The demon paced through the debris, kicking aside splinters of wood and discarded magazines with equal savagery. "Of course they will listen. Why do you think they are holding a summit on nuclear proliferation? They are trying desperately to save their world and their entire species from annihilation."
"Then they are not so heedless, nor so deserving of destruction, as you told me."
"Deserving? What does the Creator care about what one deserves? According to his own words all humans are deserving only of destruction." The ring of truth weighted his words.
"Even if that is so I do not trust you."
Surt's eyes glittered with malevolence. "Then go and see for yourself. Go to Par-Adis and ask."
Jotun rose and stalked to the window.
A short bark of mocking laughter erupted from Surt's throat. "It is as I suspected then. You fear to go back to Par-Adis. Why? Could it be that you are not so pure as you make out?"
"I never claimed to be pure." Self-loathing crawled along the words, pooling in Jotun's eyes.
"You never said you were banished either. What did you do?"
"I..." A swirl of fragmented images vibrated through Jotun's abraded thoughts, scraping along the tunnels of memory. He bit back a groan. Freya, leading him along a forest path, smiling over her shoulder at him. A circle of angelic faces around a fire, some in tears, others stone faced with rage and guilt. A small child, bound and gagged, thrown into a river already red with blood. Out of all these shards, he plucked a single fact. "I disobeyed." Jotun pounded on the window. A crack echoed across the hotel room and a spider web splinter raced across the glass from under his clenched fist.
"As did we all, brother." Surt laid a taloned hand on Jotun's shoulder, digging in to his flesh when the angel would have pulled away. "But we can atone."
"By destroying the Earth?"
"By completing our mission. Don't let Freya rob you of this chance."
"He said her name was Gwyneth, not Freya." Jotun shook his head and stared at Surt. "I do not think we are — I am no longer sure that this is my mission. It feels — wrong."
Rage darkened Surt's eyes. "We are on the edge of redemption. Everything is in place to clear the way for a new heaven and a new earth and you HESITATE?" The couch screeched across the floor and slammed into the far wall, bringing the picture above crashing down with a shattering of wood and glass.
"Spare me your tantrums," Jotun said, his voice flat and emotionless. "I must think on this." He kicked the couch right side up and back into its former position. He looked around. "Clean up this mess. I will be back in a few hours."
The door slammed closed behind him and Surt stood, frozen with wrath that bordered on madness. The television bleated its drivel about "breaking news in the Middle East." Apparently the peace talks had suffered a breakthrough. The TV erupted in a shower of sparks as Surt drove his fist through the screen.
Surt hunched deeper into the shabby overcoat and took a half step back into the shadow of the post-World War I skyscraper. He watched through narrowed eyes as Freya and her human lapdog chatted their way through the after dinner foot traffic.
No, not Freya, Gwyneth. No telling who she is or how she met Jotun, but that makes no difference. Hopefully she will taste as good as she looks, and there will be one less distraction for my partner.
He shadowed the pair as they threaded their way up the street. Their goal, he knew, was the industrial looking edifice that housed Delaney's Designs. In the two days since meeting Delaney, Jotun had barely stirred from their hotel. He'd refused to move forward with their plan. One talk with Delaney and he was no longer convinced that their "mission was righteous."
He is trying to back out, and if he does I will never carve my own kingdom from the creator-forsaken planet.
Keeping several pedestrians behind them, he watched as they turned into the refurbished factory. Waiting several heartbeats, he entered behind them. The lobby was empty, the art deco lights casting long shadows across the marble floor.
"Excuse me, may I help you?"
A small, square jawed human male sat behind a counter, eyeing Surt with deepening suspicion. The man stood up. "If you'll tell me who you're here to see, maybe I can direct you'se to da right place. Cause I'm pretty sure this ain't it."
Surt eyed the security guard with undisguised contempt. The man was burly, but he'd snap like kindling with no effort at all. The demon advanced, holding out his hand. "Come out from behind the counter." He paused and looked at the man's name tag. "Mason."
Lenny Mason drew his stun gun and pushed a small, red button on the console in front of him. "Naw. I'm fine where I'm at."
"Johnson here. What d'ya got?" The voice came from a speaker set into the counter top.
"I got a butt-ugly intruder. Won't give his name or state his business and he wants me to come out from behind the counter —"
Surt leapt onto the console, smashing the speaker and red button under his feet. The wood groaned in protest but held. "I am Surt," he said, and snatched Mason by the front of his shirt. Mason's eyes bulged as the demon hoisted him into the air, dragging him over the desk onto the tile floor of the foyer. "And when I speak, humans obey, or they die." He crushed the guard to his chest and sank his fangs into the man's neck.
Screaming, Mason clawed at his attacker.
"Let him go!" The command came from the top of the stairs and Surt lifted his head.
"Just the wench I was looking for," he said, baring his teeth in a vicious smirk.
Jamming his stun gun
under the demon's jaw, Mason triggered the device. Brilliant light flooded Surt's body. Muscles jerking, jaw clenched, he flung the security guard against the wall and then crumpled, twitching, to his knees.
Gwyneth raced down the stairs with Cole on her heels.
"Gwyn, come back here!"
She knelt by the unconscious guard, pressing her hand to the wound in his neck.
"Well, aren't you a hero?" Surt's voice was rough with pain, but he was on his feet. "Nice of you to save me the trip upstairs." He shook his head and scowled, trying to force his eyes to focus on the blurry trio in front of him.
Cole stood between the demon and Gwyneth. "Stop, demon. You will leave this place." The man's gray eye darkened to charcoal and then burned black. The impulse to obey stuttered through his system and Surt faltered, took a step back. Cole stalked him, step for step until Surt's back was against the glass doors. "And you will never enter here again."
"Cole, we need to call the healers."
Cole turned to Gwyneth and the compulsion fell away. With a roar, Surt raked his talons across Cole's face, sending him sprawling, unconscious, to the floor.
"No," Gwyneth yelled. Gathering her feet beneath her she launched herself at the demon and he stumbled back, crashing through the glass and into the busy street. The air filled to overflowing with the screams of the crowd and the wail of sirens in the distance. Lurching to his feet, he grabbed Gwyneth's hair and hauled her upright.
"Let. Me. Go!" Gwyneth said, and punched him in the chest with the Taser. For the second time in a few minutes, Surt felt his head explode with light. Gwyneth flew away from him and fell to the street while he rolled into a fetal position, aching in every joint and muscle, barely able to see, his hearing and sense of smell deadened. Around him the crowd rumbled, moving against him. Moving to destroy him. Shaking, he stumbled to his feet and stepped into the smoky, frigid darkness of the Shift.
Gwyneth clambered out of the ambulance after the gurney that carried Cole into the Emergency Room. She cupped his hand inside her larger one and adjusted her stride to match that of the EMTs.
She stared into her friend's ravaged face. Four jagged slashes marred his handsome face. Blood soaked into his collar and pooled on the saturated pillow. The skin around the cuts was pale as lilies but colder. She swallowed a sob and brushed the hair back from his forehead.
