by Greg Sisco
“It’s more common than you think. Pack your shit and let’s go. It’s less than a week till the millennium and I’m going to make sure you see it.”
“I don’t care about that anymore. That feels silly.”
The statement that came to mind was ‘Everything that matters is silly,’ but it sounded like it belonged on a postcard with a picture of a cat wearing people clothes and Tyr couldn’t say it. Instead he said, “Eva, I’ll make this easy. Loki and I have been on thin ice for a long time and as of tonight we’re through. I’m leaving. If you’re still my girl, I’d really like you to come with me, but I can’t make that choice for you.”
“You and your ultimatums.”
“They’re out of the house now, so this is it. I’m going. Are you with me?”
She knew he wasn’t going anywhere without her, but this was his way of asking her for something he needed. Say what you will about mass murderers; when you’re in love with one, life’s an adventure. And much as she might not have wanted to be, Eva was still in love with one.
“Carry me,” she said.
It was a bourgeois prison break. When Loki and Thor came back from Heimdall’s botched drain there was no sign of Tyr or Eva and Loki was screaming, “Get the fucking car. We’re gonna find him.”
“Do you really think it’s necessary? They just want to be left alone. In a few days she’ll die and he’ll come back of his own accord. Do you honestly think otherwise?”
“I don’t give a damn. Yesterday he let a woman get away on foot, today he’s walking one out with his arm around her. Tomorrow he’ll be inviting them into my house just to let them leave.”
“Come on. For all we know she died two hours ago and he went off to mourn or to bury her.”
“No. No, he’s letting that bitch get the best of him. Ever since he got back he hasn’t been Tyr. Last night you and I are out here fighting for our lives and he’s off fucking around. Then he chases that bitch out onto the highway and then loses track of her—loses track of her? How, pray tell, do you lose track of a human female? When has anybody ever gotten away from us? It starts now? When he’s got this cancer bitch burrowing into his fucking brain, I’m supposed to believe that’s a coincidence? No. No coincidence.”
“You’re all over the place, Loki. I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“You don’t see it? He let her go. All this relationship shit, it’s turning him soft. He couldn’t kill the bitch, so she takes off and calls the police. So I told him—last night, I told him in simple terms—‘you kill her tomorrow or I do it for you,’ and… Christ, I should have known he’d take off. I mean, I did know it, but I should have done something about it.”
“Wait. You threatened her?”
“No, I talked to him. I told him how it had to be.”
“Loki, you can’t do that. You’ve got to let it run its course…”
“There’s no fucking time for running its course when it’s putting us all in danger. I’m telling you, this shit’s got to stop or sooner or later we’re gonna become known murderers and that… that’d suck. We’d have to move, cut our fuckin’ hair… Fuck that.”
A thought occurred to Thor which hadn’t before. He’d postponed his plans of departure indefinitely given the life debt, but the rising tension in the household made him reconsider. He couldn’t very well leave Heimdall with Tyr and Loki and let him suffer for their actions, but maybe there was another way.
“Maybe you should go and I should look after Heimdall. We can’t take him with us and we shouldn’t leave him by himself after the night he had.”
“No, I want you there to back me up. Heimdall will be fine. We’ll lock him in a room and be back in an hour. It’ll be nothing.”
“How many times are you going to lock him up? He’s gonna feel like a prisoner in this house.”
“The way he acted today he ought to be a prisoner.”
“Loki, what are you turning into?”
“Fine, then we won’t lock him up. He’ll be fine for one hour by himself. I’m not worried about Heimdall, I’m worried about Tyr. What happens when this chick dies? Is he gonna go off and get a new human to fill the void? And then another one after that? Shit, we’ll never get him back. And that’s not to mention the risk of half-breeds and female vampires which… I don’t think even Tyr’s that fuckin’ stupid, but a hundred years ago if you’d told me he’d get this gaga over a human I wouldn’t have believed that either.”
“He wouldn’t let that happen.”
“That’s what I’m saying, but I’m also saying you never know.”
Thor shook his head. There was no point in debating it further. There wasn’t an iota of trust left between Tyr and Loki and if their relationship was reparable at all, it was going to keep getting worse before it started healing. But the immediate future wasn’t hard to see: the sooner Loki’s problem was resolved, the sooner Thor could resolve his own.
In the past, whenever the Brothers had a spit and Tyr ran off, he did so more or less without incident. Often they fought beforehand, but once they were separated Tyr was left alone until he chose to return. There was always a level of fear that he would be pursued, that Loki would take vengeance, but the fear was never answered. That fear was present on this occasion, but no more than usual, and so he didn’t take proper precautions. Instead, he assumed when Loki came home and found them gone he would be relieved he no longer had to deal with the two of them. He assumed wrong.
When he and Eva arrived back at his home, where what seemed like decades ago he had killed so many innocent women and burned them in the incinerator, he took her inside and put her to bed. He stayed up pacing the house, watching the lights of Vegas from his balcony as he had so many nights in the past. And much like he always had, he hoped not to see Loki coming across the field toward him.
He didn’t, but only because Loki approached from the other side. It was perhaps three hours—not too long before sunrise—when the first molotov cocktail came through his living room window and the couch caught fire.
“Bring her out, Tyr. We’re going home.”
And so the ceaseless adventure that was Eva’s life failed to let up once again as Tyr entered the room and said, “The house is on fire.”
“What? Why?”
“Loki’s trying to kill us again.”
“Why does the whole world want to kill me?”
‘Because you’re alive,’ Loki might have said.
Tyr put his arm around her and helped her out of the bed, down the stairs, into the flaming living room. Loki and Thor were standing there, Loki with a sword in hand, as the flames licked the floors and the furniture.
“Seems like every few years we’re finding ourselves killing each other again, doesn’t it Tyr?”
“You can’t let anything be, can you? No matter what the circumstances, you have to get your way.”
“Uh, yeah, Tyr. You’re just now figuring that out?”
“Are we going to die?” asked Eva.
“No,” said Tyr. “I doubt it.”
“Come back to the house, Tyr,” said Thor. “Let’s just sort this out.”
“What the hell is your angle anymore, Thor? Are you just Loki’s lapdog, or do you genuinely have a problem with me? I expect Loki to break into my house to kill me, but you’ve always had class. What happened?”
“You guys lost yours,” Thor said.
Loki’s eyes went to Thor, where everyone else’s were. “What do you mean you guys?”
The flames were closing in from every side and the room was around 170 degrees Fahrenheit, but the Brothers had a strong tolerance for pain and Eva was half dead and could hardly feel temperature.
“Let’s talk about it later,” said Thor.
“No, I want to talk about it now.”
“You’re irresponsible,” Thor shouted as part of the second story crashed down in the next room. “This whole idea with the club has gone too far.”
“I’m gettin
g sick of justifying this thing to you guys, because it isn’t dangerous,” said Loki, whose shirt was mostly melted to his chest. “It’s a fun little business. And the Chosen like the idea.”
The sword in Loki’s hand was red hot now. It was an old sword he’d kept since the sixteenth century, with a steel hilt and a silver blade. Impale Tyr through the heart with it and he’d barely have the strength to stand for an hour. Slice through his neck and it’d be second death in an instant.
“Did you bring that sword for me? Planning to finish me off this time?”
“Nah. I just thought maybe I’ll maim you a little. I’m an improv guy, you know that.”
“Can we get out of here?” asked Eva. She didn’t have much hair, but what was left of it was catching fire.
“Kill her, Tyr. Kill her now.”
“I won’t.”
“I’m not giving you an option.”
Tyr grabbed Eva in his arms and ran. The house collapsed around them as the fire spread, but he was out in the driveway before long and Loki and Thor followed.
Loki cut into Tyr’s back with the sword and opened up a wound from his shoulder down to his hip. Tyr dropped Eva, but managed to support her enough so she landed on her feet.
“Get in the car,” said Loki, “or so help me I’ll cut your goddamn legs off.”
Tyr grimaced. He didn’t need that shit. After a minute went by, he got into the car and Eva sat next to him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It is an unfortunate characteristic of lifeforms, human or otherwise, to instinctively place blame for undesirable events as far from oneself as manageable. Following their arrival home and much fighting over what was to be done with Tyr and Eva, it was some time before the Brothers discovered Heimdall was no longer in the house. When this knowledge was gained, Loki’s response was to put the whole thing on Tyr and Eva. Heimdall never would have been left unsupervised if it hadn’t been for their running off. If Tyr wasn’t so selfish, he would have chosen a different time to make his departure. Et cetera.
The tedious dance was rehearsed for the umpteenth time, with Loki laying accusations, Tyr defending himself in vain, and Thor refusing to take a side. Long story short, Tyr ended up chained in silver in the basement and Eva lay on the couch in the living room with Thor watching over her. There wasn’t much to watch.
When Loki returned from bonding his Brother, he dragged Eva to her feet and made it Thor’s responsibility to find Heimdall and bring him back before he exposed all of them. Not only did Thor accept, but he would have insisted had Loki suggested the reverse. He didn’t want to know what Loki had in store for Tyr or Eva. He didn’t like being in the house. But more than that, he wanted the alone time with Heimdall.
As a matter of fact, he didn’t plan on ever finding out Tyr’s or Eva’s fate. It was none of his business anymore. When he found Heimdall, he wouldn’t be coming back. There was no place for him with Loki and Tyr anymore, and the broken home to which the Brothers belonged was no place for a fledgling vampire. If Heimdall stayed with Loki and Tyr, this was the first of many situations like it to occur. But if Thor took him under his wing and left, then fine. Over a hundred years he’d been dead now. He’d learned enough to be a mentor, he supposed.
He left the house in the scuffed Rolls Royce that had come to be known recently as Lady Macbeth, and as he did, he remembered the Blood Brothers. It seemed all that was over now, but they’d had a good run together, and Loki and Tyr had had an even better run before he’d come along.
So maybe tonight was the beginning of a new and much longer Brotherhood between Thor with Heimdall. This new millennium. The year 2000.
It was only a few days away now.
To new friends, he thought. To new beginnings.
It had been thirty minutes before the gang arrived back that Heimdall had left the house. Loki and Thor hadn’t been gone long, but immediately following their departure Heimdall had wandered the house calling out for them. Loki had told him to sit tight, had said he was stepping out briefly to tie up a problem, but Heimdall wasn’t a hundred percent on whether he could trust Loki’s word. Part of him wondered if his loyalty was being tested, if he was on trial for his life.
After some time, he sat on the couch, unfolded the letter from Jewel and reread it.
The message said it was written at a public library, said she’d taken a job at Wendy’s. He was vaguely aware of the area of town where they’d used to live and there was a public library not far from there. Since she almost certainly didn’t own a car yet, it was likely she was working at whichever Wendy’s was nearest that public library. She’d also been something of a night owl, he remembered, and there was a chance she was working the graveyard shift.
It was a long shot, but he took a chance. He strolled casually into the garage, looking over his shoulder for Loki or Thor, and then fired up Thor’s bike as quickly as he could and rode like hell off the property. He clenched his teeth as he rode, but with each mile his jaw seemed to loosen and his breath felt steadier.
He prayed they weren’t following him, counting on him to lead them to Jewel. But he was fairly certain there was nobody nearby when he arrived at the first Wendy’s and found her, and he felt so absurdly lucky he expected to wake from a dream.
A male voice at the loudspeaker in the drive-thru said, “Welcome to Wendy’s. Would you like to try our blah blah bacon cheese blah blah?”
And Heimdall said, “Does a girl named Jewel work there?”
“Uh… hang on. Jewel?” His dopey teen voice said something indistinguishable to a coworker, but Heimdall had his answer.
He raced to the window and banged on it, shouting, “Jewel!”
She opened the window and he tried to explain himself but she leaned out with tears of joy and kissed him. In what felt like the final act of the most low-class fairy tale ever written, a man on a motorcycle in a Wendy’s drive-thru was leaning up to kiss an employee while a car behind him honked and an overweight tourist shouted something racist.
The lovers paid him no mind. Heimdall—Jonathan—had spent most of his life chasing literary fame, daydreaming about champagne galas and yachts and interviews with award-winning journalists. This moment spent kissing a Wendy’s employee at three in the morning had never been on his bucket list, but he thought it damn well should have been.
Thor strolled through the courtyard of a cheap apartment complex.
“Oh Heimdall,” he called, more for his own amusement than anything.
If it hadn’t been for Thor’s love of the Suzuki, finding Heimdall might have been a much longer, more painstaking task. As it happened, six months ago the Suzuki had been stolen outside a club. He could have bought another one, but the principle of the thing upset him and it took two weeks for Thor to track down the thief and teach him not to steal from vampires. Following the incident, he’d made future thefts easier on himself by installing a tracking bug.
Heimdall’s taking the Suzuki was a happy coincidence and Thor was able to track its location to within a few hundred meters, somewhere near the public library. He’d circled the area in Lady MacBeth for a while before he spotted the bike in the parking lot of this complex, then he’d parked his gorgeous piece of machinery with the other junk.
He pressed his ear to a door and listened for voices inside.
The situation looked far better than the horrific possibilities for which he’d prepared himself. Given Heimdall’s outburst last night, Thor was prepared for a massacre in a college sorority or a standoff with police baffled by his survival of multiple bullets to the head, but the complex was quiet and peaceful and Thor could only assume Heimdall had wizened up and pulled off a successful drain.
Hearing nothing, Thor walked away from the door and moved on.
“Heimdall…”
He circled the courtyard, peeking in windows and listening at doors. The son of a bitch was here somewhere.
When she arrived home early from work, Jewel’s two female roommates
said little to Heimdall before he got her in a room by herself, since from what they’d witnessed she spent little time with men and claimed to have lost the interest of the only one she’d cared about, and they were glad to see her bringing anybody at all back to the apartment. Having giggled in his face as young women have done for generations to the unexpected male visitors of friends, they scurried out of the apartment on platform feet, heading into the night and leaving the lovebirds to do as they would with the apartment.
Jewel tried to apologize for the fact that she had been at work, to explain that she had been released from jail only a few hours ago and not been able to find somebody to take over her shift. She explained that she wanted to be out looking for him but she didn’t know where to look and she couldn’t go back to that house alone at night and she knew it was terrible to say it but she couldn’t lose her job, and on, and on. Heimdall told her to forget it, that if she hadn’t been at work, he never would have found her.
“How did you get out of there?” she asked. “I felt so bad running off when you were all alone and I told the cops, but they wouldn’t listen to me. How did you find your way out?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Heimdall, which wasn’t a lie but wasn’t the whole truth either. The fact was, the few days immediately preceding his transformation were the one part of his memory that was still hazy.
“Are they dead? The guys who kidnapped you? Are all of them dead?”
“Let’s just avoid the subject,” said Heimdall again, and based on the way Jewel embraced him after he said it, he assumed it worked for one reason or another.
“I’m so glad you’re alive.”
“Me too,” said Heimdall, not really sure what the sentence meant.
They sat on the bed and held each other for some time before Heimdall kissed her. She didn’t make a move to resist, and based on what he’d read about her in his diary and the letter, he’d been afraid she might. They tasted each other in the quiet room for some time.
