He closes his eyes. He sees Valli and Nari as children, with Helen — who he also lost. He cannot think them lost, too — or Sigyn, gone like his Aggie. “My sons, my ex-wife, Sigyn, I want to know where they are, ” he says softly. She draws back, just a bit. Maybe he isn’t speaking softly, maybe it just sounds faint over the angry pounding of his own heart.
“I don’t know,” she says, her gaze firm on his. “I cannot see everything. I am sorry.”
She’s not lying...and yet...
His next breath is too hard and too loud. He wants to turn away, but doesn’t think he can. Valli and Nari’s faces and the blackness of space flash before him. His sons...his beautiful sons.
The elf queen takes his arm, and that act of comfort is scandalous, ridiculous, coming from a queen. Not that he hasn’t gotten women far above his station to do things far more scandalous — but not without trying.
“Come sit down,” she says pulling him towards the chairs in the other room.
“I should go,” he says. He doesn’t know where.
“Odin does not know you’re here,” she says.
That is pure truth.
He lets himself be led and sinks down into the chair. She doesn’t move away. Rubbing a hand on his shoulder she says, “Loki, Loki, Loki,” as though practicing the word. Her touch is oddly familiar.
Almost unconsciously he takes her hand in his and she comes around so that she stands just to the side of him, very close. She leans down so their eyes are level; locks of her black hair fall down over her shoulders. “If I cannot give you the knowledge you need, at least let me give you comfort,” she says, her face close to his.
When Loki jested with the human girl earlier about the elf queen taking advantage of his silver tongue, it had been just that, a jest, and nothing more. The queen was not known to take lovers casually, if at all. Even Baldur had tried and failed.
And yet...Loki looks at the pale skin where her neck meets the junction of her shoulders. He has the feeling that if he ghosts his lips there he knows exactly what sound she’ll make. He looks at her lips and thinks he knows exactly how they will taste.
He pulls her closer and she doesn’t resist. When he kisses her it isn’t like a first kiss, laced with excitement and uncertainty. It’s like comfort and homecoming. He needs those things.
And she tastes exactly as he thought she would.
Afterwards, when he feels a brief bit of peace, it feels natural to fall asleep with his arms draped around the elf woman he hasn’t called anything less formal than “your Majesty.” He dreams of a younger Alfheim, with a brighter, yellower sun, of gazing out the window of the palace at a mortal peasant man come to visit. The human smiles at Loki and it’s warm, good humored and yet it fills him with dread.
His eyes snap open. He hears fast footfalls, and then the sting of sharp cold metal at his throat.
He looks up. The elf queen is there, holding his own blade against his neck with one hand, his book in the other.
This is not good.
The dining room is as grand as the other halls of the palace. More tapestries, another glowing orb in the ceiling, and a great table still piled high with food — even though the diners are mostly done.
Amy sits back in her seat, pleasantly full. Near her feet Fenrir whines. Amy glances around. All eyes in the hall are trained on Beatrice, who is recounting the story of her life. Taking advantage of their lack of attention, Amy slips a piece of cheese to Fenrir.
The queen came into the hall a few hours ago. From a raised dais at the end of the table she bid Amy and her grandmother greetings in English nearly as perfect as Loki’s, before addressing her own people and then taking her leave.
Amy was asked a few questions during the meal by Belladal, but Beatrice very quickly became the star of the show. Now Beatrice is telling the story of her life, how she was born to a formerly wealthy clothing merchant in the Ukraine. She has described her parents, her family and her friends in greater detail than Amy has ever heard. Amy is as enraptured as the elves are to hear previously unheard stories of her family’s history. The tale is interrupted frequently by the elf man in blue translating for the rest of the table.
Beatrice comes to the part of how her family and friends were persecuted after the communists took power, and the elves hiss before the translation even starts. Startled, Beatrice, a few seats down and across the table, meets Amy’s eyes. Next to Amy, Belladal says, “We know of these communists. Killers of kings, queens, lords and ladies...but not only just! Kill common people, too.”
“Yes,” says Beatrice nodding gravely at Belladal. “They caused a great famine.”
“This we know not!” says the elf man. The whole hall goes silent, as though they are hanging breathlessly on Beatrice’s words. When she finishes describing the Holodomor, the famine induced by Stalin that killed nearly 2.7 million people, the elf in blue begins to translate again. Amy notices he doesn’t just address the people at the table, he also addresses the servants in the background.
For some reason it makes her stomach feel heavy.
At one point Belladal leans to Amy and whispers. “Your grandmother. So brave. Journey to lawless land no king. No queen. Much danger!”
Amy puts the crystal goblet in her hands down on the table. There is a sweet liquid within it — she’s pretty sure it’s alcoholic and wishes she could just drink some water. She is the designated driver after all. “We do all right,” she says to the elf woman.
Belladal’s eyes go wide. “If you not saved by Frost Giant...” She shakes her head. “No king. No queen. Is...is...discord....chaos.”
Amy scowls a little. “Well, no...” But Beatrice has begun to speak again and Belladal’s head turns away. At Amy’s feet Fenrir whimpers.
“I have to take her out,” Amy whispers to Belladal.
Belladal looks like she is about to get up, but the servant elf Amy had spoken to briefly is by Amy’s side at that instant. “Don’t worry,” says Amy. “I’ll go with her.”
Belladal nods and returns her gaze to Beatrice who has just begun her story of her voyage to America. Amy wishes she could stay for it, but part of her also wants to flee the hall as soon as possible.
The servant leads Amy and Fenrir out of the dining hall and Amy finds herself close to a place she remembers from earlier — the restroom. There is a group of elves in drab garb with an orb like the ones that line the ceilings and hover in the sky. But this one is brown and murky. As Amy watches, they take the orb into the restroom.
Drawing to a stop, Amy tilts her head. “What are they doing?”
The elf woman next to her bites her lip. “The orb magic water...used up. They empty. They refill new magic water.”
Amy’s eyes widen. “Are they flushing it down the toilet?” Despite the quaintness of the elf architecture, they do have flush toilets, thankfully.
The elf woman bites her lip again. “Yes. But don’t worry. Dark water goes down to delta. We get drinking water and fish up river.”
Fenrir begins tugging at the leash, and the elf woman pulls Amy down the passageway. Amy follows obediently, but the image of the river churning brown and black towards the dark lands is heavy in her mind.
A few paces later, they are stepping out into the cool night air onto a path of worn stones. The green orbs hover in the air, and light blue fireflies dance around them.
“What is your name?” Amy asks.
“Dolinar,” says the elf woman.
“Dolinar,” says Amy. “Do elves live down river?”
For a moment there is just the sound of Fenrir’s leash in the grass, and Dolinar’s and Amy’s footfalls. And then Dolinar says quietly, “Yes. But only thieves, murderers, traitors...and those who will not obey the life price.”
The night air suddenly feels very chill. Clutching her arms to her chest, Amy says, “That’s wrong. Even if it’s criminals down river, poisoning them is still wrong.”
Dolinar looks quickly to the palace, and then
back to Amy. Pointed ears trembling, she whispers, “Yes, I think so, too.”
They stare at one another a moment. It occurs to Amy that even dressed in plain servants’ garb, Dolinar looks more noble than Amy ever will. Dolinar’s hair is a deep walnut brown. Her eyes are hazel, and Amy is sure she sees light flickering in them. Her facial features are so delicate, and so perfect; her body is as small and poised as a ballet dancer.
Dolinar looks away from the palace and into the darkness. “My life mate works in stables. You say you are studying to be animal doctor. Want to see animals?”
Amy’s eyes widen, and she starts walking into the darkness and direction of Dolinar’s gaze. “Let’s go!”
A few minutes later they are approaching a building that is at least four stories tall. Through narrow windows Amy sees the glow of green orbs. There is an enormous door at the front, but Dolinar leads her around to a small door in the back.
As soon as they enter the stables, Dolinar runs forward. Out of the shadows an elf man in drab pants and a simple shirt comes forward. His hair is long and blonde, his eyes are brown. He takes Dolinar in his arms and they begin speaking quickly in their own tongue.
It’s touching, but Amy’s eyes almost immediately go down the row of stalls. Her mouth opens. On one side of the stable are horses. On the other are hadrosaurs. The dinosaurs sit on their powerful hind limbs, their front limbs pulled up, and their beak-like snouts turned on their long necks and tucked against their bodies. They look like nothing so much as roosting birds.
Feet moving of their own accord, she approaches one of the sleeping dinosaur’s enclosure. The creature untucks its neck, brings its large snout around and blinks yellow eyes. Between its eyes and its colorful, nearly iridescent scales, it looks like a giant parrot. A small gasp comes from Amy’s lips.
“She gentle,” comes a man’s voice from behind her. He says something in elvish and then Dolinar says, “You may touch her, if you wish.”
Amy doesn’t have to be coaxed. She holds out a hand. The hadrosaur brings its snout forward and sniffs. Then walking forward on its large hind legs, it drops its snout and begins rubbing the side of its head against Amy’s fingers. Up close, its scales are actually more like feathers, and they are soft as a chick’s down. Amy bites back a laugh of pure wonderment. She doesn’t doubt that the moment is real. She can smell the familiar smells of horses and straw, but there is also the smell of the hadrosaur, very akin to a bird. The animal is making soft huffing noises, and Amy catches the odor of its breath, warm and thick with the smell of half digested vegetation. It’s wonderful. Magical.
Suddenly, everything that has happened — her horrible sickening run-in with a psychopath, her fear, the horrible sensation that her life was just a dream, the elves Amy is beginning to suspect are charming fascists, Loki frightening her in the kitchen, and his terrible come-ons, it is all worth it. Even if she can’t breathe a word of this moment to anyone except Beatrice; she will know it happened. The universe seems to be grinding along with such beautiful perfection, and Amy’s part may be insignificant, but it is still wonderful.
She rubs the hadrosaur’s head and finds a small opening. She smiles; it is the animal’s ear. She scratches just behind it and the hadrosaur lets loose a deep, pleasant, lowing noise.
“She like you,” says Dolinar.
Amy doesn’t say anything. Just continues rubbing a few minutes more, feeling the exquisite, alien and yet familiar softness of the creature’s scales. She can feel her pulse racing just from the sheer joy of it. This perfect moment, it is all Loki’s fault, and that thought almost makes her laugh.
The hadrosaur abruptly pulls itself further upright, shakes its head, and then tucks its snout against its body again.
“Now go back to sleep,” says man.
Smiling, Amy turns to them. “Thank you so much...” She blinks at them standing arm in arm. Her brain disconnects from the moment she’s just experienced. Tilting her head at the lovely couple she says, “How come you speak English?”
Squeezing the man’s hand, Dolinar steps forward. “We do not speak English. We use magic to translate. My life mate, Liddel, and I study magic in secret.”
Face very serious, Liddel draws closer to Dolinar. “We would like to learn more magic. We are both hard workers and we were wondering...”
“We have to leave,” Dolinar says quickly. Amy’s eyes widen and she steps back.
Dolinar swallows. “We haven’t paid the life price. ”
Overwhelmed and confused, Amy says in a small voice, “Life price?”
“I am pregnant,” says Dolinar and Amy’s eyes flash between the two elves. “But no one in family has died so it is not allowed. Balance of elves and other creatures will be disrupted....”
Charming fascists indeed! “They aren’t going to kill your baby?” Amy gasps.
Dolinar and Liddel blink at her. “No,” says Liddel. “They will take him away.”
“Oh,” says Amy. That is better — but not by much.
“Fjölnir,” says Dolinar. “The Frost Giant you came with, we see his magic, he is very powerful...maybe more powerful than queen.”
“Would he take us as apprentices?” says Liddel. “Just me for now, but later...”
From outside there come loud shouts and the sound of horns. Liddel’s eyes widen. “It is the royal messengers. They may be angered if they know I’ve let you both into Queen’s stables. Hide!”
Dolinar takes Amy’s hand and pulls her and Fenrir towards a hadrosaur stall. She opens the latch with trembling hands as Liddel walks to the main door, shouting something. Amy, Fenrir and Dolinar swing into the stall next to an oblivious hadrosaur, and Dolinar shuts the stall door just as the main door of the stables swings open, and green orbs float in above.
There is much shouting and whinnying of horses. Amy scoops Fenrir up and wraps her hand around her dog’s muzzle before she can bark. Wiggling in her arms, Fenrir makes muffled yipping noises anyway.
Outside the stall door, someone says something that sounds like a question. Amy hears Liddel responding. The stall door rattles.
Turning towards Fenrir, eyes wide, Dolinar points a finger at the dog’s mouth just as her muzzle slips through Amy’s fingers. Fenrir opens her mouth, the stall door rattles again, and Amy’s heart misses a beat. Her dog’s jaws open and shut, Amy can see her tiny lungs heave...but then no sound comes out. Amy looks at Dolinar...the elf woman’s brow looks damp and she brings a finger to her lips.
Fenrir blinks and starts rubbing her muzzle.
The door of the stall shakes, and then someone says something, and Amy hears footsteps going away. Heart pounding in her ears, she lets out a breath and settles into the shadow of the hadrosaur, still sleeping peacefully.
Amy’s not sure how long it is before the elves leave the stable; it feels like an eternity. She hears the sound of livery being readied, and hooves marching out into the night. At last, the stall door swings open, and Liddel’s form appears. Looking perplexed, he says, “The messenger and an armed escort is going to the World Gate. It’s strange so late in the evening.”
“World Gate?” says Amy. “World Gate to where?”
The elves turn to her and look at her as though she has asked a silly question. “To Asgard.”
Amy’s heart leaps to her throat. “I have to get my grandmother...I have to get my car...” She runs forward and takes Dolinar’s hands. “I don’t know if Loki needs an apprentice, but I’m sure he’ll let you come with us.”
“Loki?” say Dolinar and Liddel in unison.
Amy puts her hand to her mouth. The one thing she wasn’t supposed to do and she’s done it!
The elves look at each other and whisper back and forth in their own language. Liddel puts a hand on Amy’s shoulder. “We thank you for your kindness. Perhaps it would be better for you if you come with us to the Dark Lands.”
Amy looks between them. Their eyes are wide and sincere.
“No, no, he’s really
not that bad,” Amy says. “He saved my life...and he’s kind, a little pervy, ...but...”
The elves exchange glances.
“Please don’t tell!” Amy says. “Just please don’t tell.”
Liddel’s eyes narrow. “We will tell no one.”
Narrowing her own eyes, Dolinar smiles slightly...and it’s not a kind smile. “Let the queen deal with the breaker of worlds.”
Chapter 9
Loki pulls his neck back instinctively from the sharp bite of his blade. He just needs a moment’s distraction. He glances around the room. Perhaps if he set the curtains on fire...
Hissing, the elf queen steps forward and he feels the point nip at his skin again. His eyes return to the shining piece of steel.
“You should not be awake,” she says. That answers a question at the back of his mind. She’d enchanted him. He searches for something pithy to say, but before he can open his mouth, she shakes the book and shouts, “My lover’s book. You have it! Why?”
The book is Lothur’s journal. Hoenir gave it to Loki centuries ago. Shocked by the question, Loki just stares at her dumbly. She wears only a dressing gown tied loosely at the waist. Her eyes are narrow and too wet, her mouth open and slightly turned down. He tries to parse the emotions he is seeing: anger, sadness, disbelief.
“Can you read it!” she says, pricking the blade beneath his chin. He feels the warm ooze of a trickle of blood.
Loki scrambles backwards on his elbows, the sheet falling away from his bare chest. “Gala—,” he starts to whisper.
“How do you know that name?” the elf queen shouts, sword shaking dangerously in her hands. “Only she knew that name!”
Loki blinks. How does he know it? Amy told him...but it’s more than that. She lowers the blade a fraction. “Can you read the book?” she says her voice a low hiss.
Staring at the gleaming steel, he says, “Yes.”
“Prove it!” she says, throwing the small, ancient volume towards him.
Demons & Djinn: Nine Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Novels Featuring Demons, Djinn, and other Bad Boys of the Underworld Page 90
