It is near the end of the second week when the second incident occurs. Amy is just coming home late from her hostessing job. There is a light in the living room. She follows it and finds Loki kneeling in front of the TV cabinet fiddling with the remote.
Without thinking, she puts her hostessing apron with the $66.73 she got in tips from takeaway orders on the coffee table next to her laptop. It was a long day, she made hardly any money, and she has no idea how she’s going to pay all her expenses at this rate. Settling into the EZ boy, she just sighs.
Without looking at her, Loki flops down on the couch. “I’ve hooked the television up to your computer. We can watch YouTube, Netflix, Hulu...”
“Whatever,” Amy says.
Without looking at her, Loki points the remote at the TV and some strange menu with cute icons comes up. He selects some talk on YouTube about Higgs Boson particles. Physics really isn’t Amy’s thing, but it is interesting — until it isn’t. Amy finds herself drifting off into sleep, Loki talking in the background...Something about, “Humans can’t see magic, but you’ve found all these ways to look at it indirectly. I really can see why Hoenir is so fond of you...”
She jerks awake when the program ends. The strange menu comes up and Loki flips to Netflix and Star Trek TOS reruns.
Spock’s making eyes at some incredibly elegant woman, and Amy’s just drifting off to sleep again when Loki says, “She’s scrawny.”
“Mmmm...” says Amy.
And then out of the blue Loki says, “You know, Amy, you really are just my type, but I don’t even feel like having sex right now.”
Amy bolts upright. Loki isn’t even looking at her. He’s just lying on the couch, head turned to the television screen. Her heart rate goes from racing back to normal. For a moment she’d felt like her sanctuary was going to collapse on her.
Staring at the flickering light without even seeing it, Amy feels exhausted again. “Sex is overrated,” she says. Sex is a tease. Your body convinces you you want it, and then during it you hardly feel like you’re even there, your mind wanders, the sensations become muted. Once it’s over you’re left feeling incomplete, and empty, wondering why you’d bothered in the first place. And then your partner describes it as awesome. She huffs at a recent memory and stares at her fingernails on the arm of the chair.
“Ordinarily I’d take that as a challenge,” Loki says, not moving.
Amy’s cheeks flush. “Glad I can be here during your time of personal growth.”
“This isn’t growth,” says Loki, his voice flat.
He isn’t looking at her; he hasn’t even moved. And then she remembers him laughing about getting his lips sewn shut, and flirting with her in Alfheim. Where did the Loki that could laugh about his own torture go? She’s been enjoying his company these last few weeks; he’s been mellower. There have been no horrible pick-up lines; she feels so safe she falls asleep with him in her living room. But the reason he’s been so mellow, the reason she feels so comfortable — it’s because he’s depressed, isn’t it?
She swallows. And why shouldn’t he be? He’s lost everything.
The images on the screen stop. “I’m bored with this show,” says Loki. He flips back to the cute icon-y menu.
Suddenly anxious to draw him out, Amy says, “Did you hook my computer up to the DVD player somehow?” Talking about technology is about the only thing that seems to perk his interest lately.
Loki actually laughs. “Oh, your DVD player isn’t involved in the slightest. I’m utilizing a device called an Apple TV. It’s a little box that connects your TV to your computer and the internet. The hard part was getting a username and then a password to initialize it.” He shakes his head and sighs. “Actually, it wasn’t that hard. You know, if you humans used more pass phrases instead of passwords the internet would be so much more secure. And think of it — ‘the pink hadrosaur jumps over thirteen purple griffins in the icebox,’ you’d never forget it, and it would be nearly impossible to hack.”
He actually sounds happy, and that’s good, but he talks so fast it takes Amy a moment to decipher all of it. And then she flushes. “Did you steal an Apple TV?”
He waves a hand at her and puffs. “No, I borrowed an Apple TV. I have every intention of returning it.”
“You can’t do that!”
Loki looks at a point on the wall. “No, I really can. I make myself invisible, walk into the Apple Store and — ”
“That’s stealing!”
He glares at her. “I do not break my oaths!”
What follows is an argument that she thinks she technically wins, but he refuses to acknowledge her victory. In the end she extracts an oath that he will return the Apple TV the next day and that he won’t borrow again without a merchant’s express consent...as long as he resides on their property.
That night she goes to sleep in her own bed, leaving him taking the Apple TV box thingy out of the TV cabinet.
Later, she comes down the stairs to let Fenrir out. Loki is stretched out asleep on the couch. A box she supposes is the Apple TV is on the coffee table beside him.
His face is drawn, his fingers are blue and twitching, and he’s mumbling something in another language, sounding strained. Her change apron is still on the coffee table, too. She decides not to move it. It’s so close to his face, it will jingle and Loki obviously needs his sleep, pained as it may be.
She has his oath not to steal in her house; and she’s seen that the man takes his oaths very seriously.
It isn’t until she’s settled back in bed and closing her eyes that she realizes the true significance of her argument with Loki earlier in the evening.
Her eyes bolt open.
...forget borrowing things without asking. What’s really scary is that he’s been here two weeks and he’s already hacking into computers.
Stumbling out of the rain into Hoenir’s hut, Anganboða, Mimir, Loki and the nearly unconscious Hoenir find themselves in a sitting room. Panting, Loki drops Hoenir on the small sofa. Hoenir mumbles something in his sleep, and Loki crumples to the floor.
“That’s going to hurt in the morning,” says Mimir with a tsk, tsk.
“His head or my back?” Loki grumbles.
“Both,” says Mimir. His eyes slide over to Anganboða. “Would you please lean me against that wall?” He waggles his eyebrows in the direction of a wall just to the side of an unlit fireplace.
As Anganboða complies, Loki stares at the logs in the fireplace, concentrates just a moment and the logs leap into flame.
Anganboða gives a small gasp and she backs away from Mimir and the roaring fire. Loki just stares at her silently, his mind an uncomfortable jumble.
“Now, Miss,” says Mimir, “Loki did ask a very good question out there. Do you have a plan?”
Anganboða lets the blanket covering her shoulders fall away. Beneath it is a thick satchel. “I was thinking, I have heard some wealthy families will hire a young lady to educate their daughters and young children.” Opening the satchel, she pulls out a large and well worn tome. “I have no experience, but I am well read.”
Curiosity getting the better of him, Loki says, “That doesn’t look like a book for children.”
Anganboða sighs. “It isn’t, but it is one of my favorites. I couldn’t leave it.” She hands it to Loki. He opens the dust jacket and smiles. “Ah, it is Hellbendi’s, Magic: Mathematical, Scientific and Philosophical Inquiries Beyond Practical Applications.” Shaking his head he says almost to himself, “This is a very, very, good book.”
Although the Aesir can sense magic and bend it to their will, few have tried to understand it like Hellbendi, a sorcerer from ancient times. Loki has found that understanding the science of magic has greatly improved his practical abilities.
“You’ve read it?” says Anganboða. She sounds impressed, not bored or mildly disgusted.
He should reply with confidence; however, all that happens is that his jaw drops open.
Fortunately, M
imir comes to Loki’s aid. In his most courtly tones he says, “Loki has read that and more. When he isn’t causing mischief for his or Odin’s amusement, he is often ransacking Hoenir’s library.”
“Library?” says Anganboða, her face visibly brightening. She looks at Loki expectantly.
Pulling himself together, he says, “Yes, Hoenir’s rivals Odin’s.” Going to retrieve Mimir, he steps towards a wall lined with several doors. “Come, we’ll show you,” he says.
“Are you sure you know which door? Even I can’t keep them straight,” Mimir whispers.
Loki isn’t sure, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he smiles as confidently as he can at Anganboða, who smiles back wildly. Lifting his eyebrows at her, he opens the first door just slightly. The sound of claws on metal and a furious screeching fills his ears. Loki peeks in the opening. It is a room he has never seen before, lined with giant cages, inside of which are velociraptors as tall as him. Their heads swivel as one towards the doorway. For a moment they just stare, and then they jump against the bars of their cages, shaking and screeching with all their might.
Loki closes the door quickly.
“What were those?” says Anganboða, eyes wide.
“Errrr....” says Mimir.
“Nothing but harmless hadrosaurs, gentle herbivorous dragons,” says Loki.
“They didn’t look gentle,” says Anganboða.
“Let’s try the next door,” says Loki, quickly moving on. Fortunately, that door does lead to the library.
Perhaps an hour later, they are still there. Mimir is leaning against a wall, sound asleep. Loki and Anganboða are sitting at a table, two stacks of books in front of Anganboða. One stack for her to read, the other a stack of children’s books Loki is insisting that she borrow from Hoenir.
Leaning on his elbows, Loki says,“You are so well read, and yet you do not use magic yourself. I don’t understand.”
Anganboða looks down. “I would love to use magic. But I can’t. I see magic but am unable to bend it to my will.”
She frowns a little. Upset that his line of questioning has made her unhappy, Loki reaches forward and pulls an illusion of a flower from her nose.
Anganboða laughs, and Loki smirks and lifts an eyebrow. He waves his hand and the imaginary flower turns into butterflies — he’s more a fan of spiders, but they seldom go over well. The butterflies flap their wings, fly up towards the ceiling and disappear.
Still smiling, Anganboða looks to the books. “Do you really think Hoenir won’t mind if I borrow these?”
Loki waves a hand. “Of course he won’t mind.” He leans back in his chair and puts a hand to his chin. “What’s more of a worry is how Baldur reacts to your not coming to see him this evening. Falling out of favor of the crown prince is a sure way to find yourself unemployable.”
Unless of course, you are Loki. Odin insists Loki remain in Asgard, no matter how Baldur complains.
Tapping his chin, Loki says, “You were supposed to meet him somewhere in the palace, were you not?”
Anganboða’s face falls and she nods.
“Don’t worry,” says Loki. “We will tell the court I transformed myself into Baldur and nearly led you astray, but the fine Mimir saw what I was up to, put an end to my antics, and protected your honor. Eternally grateful, you helped him find his way back to Hoenir’s hut.” Loki straightens and smiles mischievously. “Your honor is preserved, and Baldur can’t possibly be mad at you because everyone knows what a horrible prankster I am.” He narrows his eyes. But somehow he has to find a way to keep Baldur away from her in the future.
“I don’t like that plan,” Anganboða says.
Loki raises an eyebrow. “Why ever not?”
“What of your honor, and how it will be damaged by such a lie?” Anganboða says.
Loki smirks. “Everyone knows I have no honor.”
Anganboða’s eyes narrow. “Yes, if it wasn’t for the eagle eyes of Mimir over there, I’d be ruined by now.”
Mimir chooses that moment to release a giant snore.
Loki flushes. His jaw tenses. Pretending that Mimir is protecting her is one of the little mental games he plays to keep his oath to her. “It is not for lack of desire, my Lady.” His words sound too cutting, and too cruel, even to him.
Anganboða’s gaze moves away. She looks at the books in front of her. “After I am employed, will I see you again?”
Her voice is soft...almost hopeful. Or perhaps he is imagining it. “That can be arranged,” he says cautiously.
She smiles, and he feels his lips threaten to pull up.
“But first,” he says, “we must make sure you can be employed. You must lie to the court.”
Shaking her head, she puts a hand on his. “I won’t tell them that story. It is unfair to you.”
It’s ridiculous how arousing her soft fingers are against his knuckles. He sighs and brings her hand to his lips. “My Lady,” he says. “At court you must lie. It is how you survive.”
“Loki, Loki, Loki!”
Loki’s eyes open to darkness. It takes him a moment to realize he is on Midgard curled up on Beatrice’s couch. He puts his hand to his temples, closes his eyes and sees Anganboða’s face.
“Aggie....” He sighs. Was there ever a time he was so hopelessly romantic? “I could not protect you...” Or even the much more formidable Sigyn.
“Loki, Loki, Loki!”
Loki feels a chill pass through him. Red mist creeps along the edges of his vision. “What do you want?” he whispers.
“I need your help,” the mist says, as usual in Russian.
Loki scowls. “And why would I do that?” The mist swirls around him and the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
“I know what I am,” the child’s voice says.
Loki says nothing, just narrows his eyes.
“Cera,” the child’s voice whispers.
Loki raises an eyebrow at the word. Cera means power.
“And I can be your Cera,” the red mist says. It is so dense around Loki that he has to blink his eyes to see. His whole body hums and his skin starts to turn blue. Scowling, he fights back the illusion concocted by his obviously slipping sanity and grief.
He blinks again. The thing, Cera, is right. Loki’s pulse starts to race. He’s been delving into mortal magics these past few weeks looking for some way to exact revenge. Humans are so close to being able to give him what he needs — yet still decades, maybe centuries away. But Cera...if whatever Cera is, is as powerful as Loki thinks, vengeance may be very close.
“What do you want?” Loki whispers.
“Be my Josef!” Cera wails. “Save me from the God people!”
Loki throws his legs over the edge of the couch. “Where are you?”
He feels an anxiety in the pit of his stomach and knows it isn’t his own. The thing is projecting emotions now. He scowls.
“I don’t know where I am,” Cera wails. “But I know where I’ve been...”
It is way too early in the morning after Loki and Amy’s Apple TV discussion, but Amy is dashing down the stairs. The vet clinic called. They are short handed for the day; they asked her if she can be there in half an hour for a ten hour shift. She tears into the kitchen in her scrubs and finds Loki staring out the window, a frown on his face. She runs to retrieve her change apron from the next room. When she gets back in the kitchen, apron in hand, she says, “What’s wrong?” She doesn’t really have time for the answer, but she remembers him murmuring in his sleep the night before, his fingers twitching, and it makes her physically ache for him.
“I need money,” he says, shooting her a look like a challenge. “And I am forbidden to steal while I am under your roof, so — ”
“You could ask to borrow some,” says Amy.
Loki’s frown vanishes. “Ask?”
“Of course,” says Amy. She heaves a breath. “Look, you lost your family, your friends...your world. Of course you’ll need some help getting back on your feet.” She
takes two tens out of the change apron, slips them in the pocket of her scrubs and drops the apron on the table. The change rattles in the pockets. Loki follows it with his eyes.
“Take as much as you need; everything if you need it,” Amy says.
“I don’t think I could....” says Loki. His eyes have gone wide, and he has the expression of a surprised puppy on his face.
His earnestness surprises Amy, and makes warmth bubble in her stomach. “Look, you know where it all is. Take it. Everything. It’s okay. Really.”
Loki comes forward and drops to one knee in front of her. “Amy Lewis, I am in your debt. You have my oath that I will pay you back with interest.”
“Ummm...” she says. “Well, if you think that is necessary,” she says, looking at her change purse. What is it, forty six bucks and some change maybe?
Kissing her hand, he says, “I do think it is necessary.”
Amy swallows as warmth rushes through her limbs at his touch. “Okay...” Loki looks up at her, his face shining with something close to happiness. “I wondered why I heard you in the forest, I wondered how your voice came to be in my head, and how you intersected with my higher purpose. Now I know. My gratitude is eternal, and you have my oath, I will pay it back with interest!”
He kisses her hand again, and Amy’s mouth drops open. “Ummmm....” is all that comes out. She feels her face go red, and then Loki looks up at her like he might actually kiss her — really kiss her. That is appealing and scary. “I have to go,” she squeaks and runs out the kitchen door.
She nearly crashes into Beatrice on the back walk. Clutching a watering can to her chest, Beatrice says, “Did you talk to Loki this morning?”
Amy blinks. “Yes.”
Beatrice’s eyes narrow. “I heard him talking in Russian.” Beatrice learned Russian as a child in the Ukraine — under less than ideal circumstances.
Amy’s bites her lip. She has to run, but she doesn’t like to rush away from her grandmother. Not when she’s talking about her life before.
Shaking her head, Beatrice says, “Something about Cera and Tunguska.”
Demons & Djinn: Nine Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Novels Featuring Demons, Djinn, and other Bad Boys of the Underworld Page 96
