Baldur shifted uneasily, behind him. “It is unwise to say such things, Loki, of any god.”
“No, brother, let him go on. Let him continue to perjure himself, so there can be no doubt by any who witness that my response is justified.” Thor hefted a hammer that had been left beside the fire. No doubt Loki had been attempting to smelt and forge, tired of having to trade with the other pantheons for metal arms, now that there were no dwarves to work for them.
“Perjure myself? Do you deny you took a wife during the exile we shared on earth?” Loki grinned. “I suppose I couldn’t blame you if you were only practicing your arts, knowing that when you returned to Sif’s bed you would have to live up to my skill.”
Thor was surprised by the weight of the hammer, the power. Sparks of lightning wrapped around the shaft, and lit the heart of its head, the weapon magnifying his own strength. This was a hammer brought from the old worlds, then. Stolen from the dwarves themselves. He should not have been surprised to find it near Loki, he supposed, for that one had always taken what he wanted for himself with no regard for the person who possessed it.
“Are you sure you want to keep insulting me, Loki?”
“No insult, Thor, merely fact. Is it not true, Sif? He’s so intimidated by you he cannot even perform his husbandly duty, though I would venture he might not be so unmanned if you took the guise of his mortal wife.”
Sif glanced over him lazily, her eyes glowing golden. “Shall we test your theory?”
Perhaps he had been mistaken, and this hammer was not for the forge, but forged itself. The Dwarven war-hammer? Mjölnir? And Loki and Sif provoking him while he held it. Unwise indeed.
Loki’s grin twisted with malice, and Sif rose, her body shifting in the same motion. Golden hair darkened, turning to a rich, chestnut brown, and the lean, hard muscle of her body slimmed and softened, even the glow of her eyes faded into the startling green of Eve’s.
Thor stiffened, his grip on Mjölnir tightening. She might look like Tora, but her expression lacked Eve’s warmth, her love. He growled.
“Change back.”
Sif smiled with Eve’s face and stretched Eve’s arms above her head, like a drowsy leopard, toying with its prey. “What is it about this form, Thor, that drives you so mad?” Her gaze shifted briefly over his shoulder. “I suppose you always favored fey-colored creatures. Is that why you prefer Athena to Aphrodite, too? For her dull, dark hair?”
“Sif,” Baldur warned. “You may not insult a guest of Asgard in my presence.”
“I do not take offense,” Athena said, her voice cool. “We in Olympus have known for some time the worth of Sif’s words.”
Sif’s lip curled, and Thor freed himself from her spell, shaking his head to clear it. Eve would never look on anyone with such open loathing and hostility. Sif brushed by him, and so help him, but even her scent was Tora’s. Sunshine and spring rains. But she was not Eve. And if she had her way, if he did not silence Loki, Eve would not live long enough to know him again.
Thor caught Sif by the arm and threw her back to the Trickster.
“An unconvincing display,” he growled. “Your game is played and lost. Change back, and do not test me further, Sif, I warn you.”
She laughed, falling gracefully to the couch beside Loki, who had not bothered to so much as stretch out an arm to steady her. “You warn me? And what will you do if I disobey? Your precious honor will keep you from striking me, doubly so while I keep this form. And Odin has granted me his protection, besides. I am free to do as I will.”
He bared his teeth. “If you wish to test that theory as well, then stay where you are and we will see which of us is more determined. Because I assure you, wife, the bars of my cage are broken.”
Maybe it was because the sky had gone black above them, or perhaps because of the calm in his voice, for he had firm control of his temper as he lifted the hammer, but Sif rose, stumbling back, as he advanced. She had too much pride to run, and too much sense to stand between him and the Trickster. He was not certain he was glad of it.
Loki did not so much as sit up when Thor’s shadow reached him, his silhouette stretching toward Sif where she had pressed herself to the wall.
“You know what I love most about you, Thor?” he drawled, examining his fingernails.
“I’m sure you have every intention of telling me.” Mjölnir’s handle was shorter than he might have liked, but he’d make do. He tested his grip, but the hammer fit perfectly to his hand, its thirst burning the back of his throat.
Loki lifted his gaze, a terrible grin splitting his face. “You are so easy to drive into a rage. So predictable. And yet, still, you surprised me. I should have known from the beginning it was Elohim’s daughter, but you had us all so convinced of your loyalty to Sif. I cannot wait to go to her, dressed in your skin. How startling it will be, when the man she loved appears before her eyes. I think I shall kiss her first, to see how sweet she is, before I beat her bloody and—”
Thor brought the hammer down on his face.
A gasp sounded behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder. Sigyn stood by the kitchen entrance, a mug clutched too tightly in her hands.
“Have no fear, Sigyn. He won’t be killed.” Even as he said it, Loki was scrambling back, barely stunned by the blow.
“What do you think you’re doing, you oaf?” Loki demanded.
“You seem only to understand one language, Trickster.”
Thor swung the hammer up with both hands, catching Loki by the chin and throwing him back against the hall. He was sure he heard the crack of his jaw that time, and Loki screamed. The first strike had merely been a warning, without any of his strength behind it. This one was something else entirely, and Mjölnir hummed in his hands.
“Thankfully, it is one I speak.”
Sigyn began to weep, but Thor ignored her and dragged Loki to his feet by his tunic. Blood poured from his nose and mouth, and Thor guessed he had bitten his tongue. Good.
“If you so much as think of touching her, Loki, or dare whisper another word against her life, no power on this earth or any other will stay my hand. The lesson will last much longer, and damage done to more than just your mouth.”
Loki jerked himself free, and spit blood in Thor’s face, though his expression did not hide the pain it caused him to do so.
Thor wiped the blood away with the back of his hand, and lightning crackled overhead, though his voice remained eerily calm. “Do you understand me?”
Sigyn pushed past Thor where he stood, still holding the hammer. Loki could not speak around his tongue, and spit again, glaring sidelong as he turned away to the comfort of his wife. It had always galled Loki that he couldn’t read minds as Thor did, though he used what strength he had to plant suggestion, and those were powerful enough. His contempt and fury was obvious in the single thought he shared.
As you say, Odin-son.
Thor left his wife behind, but the hammer—the hammer he took with him.
Chapter Thirty-one: Present
“Oh, Abby! Look at you! Big as a house!” Her mother hugged her while Garrit welcomed her father. “Has Mia arrived yet? Garrit is so kind to invite us all here for the holidays.”
“Yes, he’s very thoughtful.” She stepped back to let her parents into the house.
Not that Garrit was at all thrilled with the idea of inviting Adam back into his home. They had discussed it for weeks and ultimately, there had been no other choice. Eve was safest in France, and the less travel at this point in her pregnancy the better. Since Garrit couldn’t invite her parents without Mia, and he couldn’t invite Mia without Adam, he would suffer her brother’s presence once more. And Eve would reassure herself that her sister still wasn’t being manipulated while she tried not to have nightmares of Michael.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and Adam will return what he stole from you without further threat,” Garrit had muttered the morning her family was supposed to arrive.
“Garrit. Try to be civ
il.”
“Have you ever known me to be anything otherwise?” She raised an eyebrow at him, but he only kissed her cheek. “I’ll be civil. Unless I’m provoked.”
“The trick is to be civil even after you’re provoked.”
He laughed. “Yes, and you do that so well when it comes to Mia. I can only imagine how long that civility will last faced with your parents, your sister, and your brother-in-law.”
In spite of the challenges, and Garrit’s doubts, Eve was pleased she wouldn’t have to travel. Even climbing the stairs took more energy than she had lately. Just standing in the foyer with her parents was making her feet swell.
“Come in, please. Make yourselves at home.” Garrit had waved to one of the staff to collect their luggage from the car. That was another argument she had lost as her stomach had swelled with his son. Staff to cook and clean and do all the things she normally would. “Abby, I am certain your parents cannot expect you to wait on them in your state.”
“Oh, dear, no!” Her mother immediately ushered her to one of the sitting rooms. “You shouldn’t be on your feet. You look as though you’re going to give birth any moment. Really, Abby. There’s no need for ceremony.”
“Yes, Mum.” She sighed and let herself be persuaded into a seat on the couch. Of course if she hadn’t been at the door, her mother would have insisted she not laze about. It was only Garrit’s obvious desire that she rest which saved her from her mother’s censure. She stroked her stomach.
Not much longer now. Less than a month. But Garrit really didn’t need to fuss. She had explained to him repeatedly that she was made for this. As long as she ate properly and slept enough, the baby would be just fine, and she would too. Hadn’t she borne Ryam six children, all healthy, without a single stillborn baby? That two had died of illness before their fifth birthday had been due to circumstances beyond her control. That she had only lost two had been a miracle in itself in those days, though it paled in comparison to six healthy and easy births. But it was a husband’s prerogative to fuss over his wife, she supposed. Ryam had done the same.
“Now, when are you expecting your sister?” her mother pressed.
Garrit poured her mother a glass of wine, and her father a tumbler of port before sitting down beside Eve. “Before dinner, I’m sure,” he answered for her. “I was surprised you didn’t all choose to travel together.”
Her father sat down with his port and an appreciative sigh. “Oh, well. That Ethan has his own way of going about things. Wouldn’t hear of taking the train. Of course, your mother and I can’t stand to fly. Will your parents be joining you for the holidays as well, Garrit?”
“Oui. They’ll be here after dinner, with Aunt Brienne and her family.”
Eve tried not to grimace. Garrit wouldn’t let Adam into the house without at least his father for help if needed. And Brienne, as matriarch, had been impossible to dissuade. She wouldn’t be surprised if Jean arrived at the last minute, too, just to reassure himself Mia wasn’t being mistreated.
“A full house, then. Won’t that be merry!” Her father raised his glass, using the excuse to drink a good portion of the port.
Garrit smiled politely. “I expect you’ll hardly know they’re here. It takes quite a number of us before anyone gets crowded.”
Eve squeezed his hand. He raised hers to his lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. A tendril of jealousy slipped into her mind, followed by a presence she recognized immediately as Adam. She shivered and hoped Garrit would think it only a response to his caress. But something must have shown on her face, because he frowned and stood, excusing himself from the room.
“What was that about, Abby?” her mother asked.
“Ah.” She blinked, trying to ignore Adam’s soft chuckle in the back of her mind. “I think he heard a car. Mia and Ethan.”
“Oh, how wonderful!” Her mother rose and left as well. No doubt on her way to the front door.
Eve sighed and glanced at her father, who didn’t seem to be interested in moving further than the table with the rest of the port. He was refilling his glass. “I thought Mia and Ethan were close by?”
“Oh, they are.” Her father agreed, swirling the contents of his glass. He sniffed at it, his eyes half closed in pleasure. “But you know your mother. She and Mia have always been thick as thieves. And Ethan keeps your sister busy. He’s making her finish her degree at University. Mia wasn’t happy about that at all. As quickly as they got married, I wonder if the poor man just didn’t want an excuse for a bit of peace and quiet.”
She tried not to smile at the idea that Adam had bitten off more than he could chew with her boisterous sister, but it was difficult not to. “Mia can certainly be a challenge.”
Hardly, he said in her head.
It’s rude to eavesdrop. She cleared her throat, watching the car pull up through the window. “Do you like Ethan?”
Her father smiled, sitting back down on the couch. “What’s not to like about him? I never expected Mia would have the sense to marry someone with that kind of stability, but he seems to take good care of her. I think marriage was an adjustment for her.”
“No doubt.” She tried not to think of the number of ways Adam could be abusing Mia. He had given her his word, and she’d know soon enough anyway. Certainly there was no cloud of influence in her father’s mind, and what he described seemed bizarrely normal. “As long as she’s happy, I suppose that’s all that matters.”
“You’ll see for yourself, Abby. He’s a good influence on her.” Then her father grimaced, as the noise of the two women reached them. It sounded remarkably like the squealing of girls on the playground. “Your mother on the other hand…”
Eve didn’t need him to finish. Her mother had always fed Mia’s histrionics. She could hear them in the hall now, and she pushed herself to her feet with an effort. But it was only Mia and her mother who walked into the room. Eve frowned. That couldn’t be a good sign.
“Oh, Abby! Look at you!” Mia laughed and hugged her. “I don’t think you’d even fit on a plane. No wonder Garrit invited us all here.”
“Did you have a comfortable trip?” She was faintly concerned that Adam was alone somewhere with Garrit. “Where’s your husband?”
Mia had already taken a seat next to their mother after a perfunctory greeting to their father. “Garrit whisked him off somewhere.” She waved a hand dismissively. “I’m sure they’ll be along shortly.”
Eve was torn between the need to play host to her family, and the desire to go find them before someone started throwing punches.
Please, Eve. A little bit of a faith, if you don’t mind. Then she heard him sigh in irritation. Your husband asks me to tell you to stay with your parents. Why didn’t you ever tell him we could talk this way? He doesn’t seem very happy about learning it from me. He chuckled. If I had known you were keeping secrets…
You would’ve told him anyway. But she did sit down again. Thankfully with Mia’s arrival the burden of carrying a conversation with her mother was lifted. She wished she could go take a nap. When Garrit came back, perhaps she could close her eyes for few minutes.
You’re exhausted. There was a hint of alarm to his tone. I didn’t realize—Mia never told me that you were pregnant.
Of course not. It probably hadn’t occurred to her to mention the reason they were celebrating the holidays in France. I’m fine. What are you two doing?
Oh, the usual. I’m signing away my soul in exchange for permission to cross into DeLeon lands. Promising I’ll be on my best behavior. Though, it makes more sense now I know you’re pregnant. I thought they were just being more difficult than usual to irritate me.
Signing away your soul is normal?
Her question was met with silence, and the abrupt disappearance of Adam’s mind from her senses. She rubbed at her forehead. At least she was already sitting down. If Garrit had just knocked him unconscious, she wouldn’t have to worry about falling when she went with him. Garrit wouldn’t risk
it unless Adam had done something extreme. Not that extreme behavior wasn’t beyond him.
She turned her attention back to Mia and her mother, but she had no idea what they were talking about anymore. Her father was already on his third glass of port. She tried not to fidget while she waited. What was taking them so long?
“Ethan promised me a new car if I finished in the top of my classes,” Mia said.
“How exciting, Mia!” Her mother fluttered. “When will you get your grades?”
“At the end of the week. But I’m sure I did well. He was impossible about it. Always nagging at me about my class work. And studying. I’m sure he’ll be an absolute prat again when the next semester starts.”
“How do you put up with that, Mia?” Eve regretted saying anything the minute her mother looked up at her, her lips pursed.
“I imagine she puts up with it the same way you put up with your in-laws always inviting themselves over.”
“They don’t invite themselves over. This is their home. Mother, really. I don’t see why you’re so upset about it. I knew what I was getting into when I married Garrit.”
“And your sister didn’t?”
She opened her mouth, then shut it at once. There was no possible way she was going to win this argument. And she wasn’t even sure why she was having it to begin with. “I was talking to Mia, Mum.”
“Ethan isn’t any more difficult than Garrit is, I’m sure. Besides, he always gives me plenty of incentive.” Mia smirked in a very satisfied manner, and Eve flinched at the lust of her sister’s thoughts, taken aback by the strength of them. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I only have a year and a half left. It seemed silly not to finish.”
Eve didn’t waste her breath pointing out that Mia had been dead set against finishing her degree not eight months earlier. Regardless of how or why Adam had convinced her to do it, she was glad. It would be easier on her sister to have a degree if Adam abandoned her, or she decided she wanted nothing more to do with him.
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