* * *
On the way back to Lily’s apartment, absolutely nothing happened. The walk remained entirely uneventful. One or two people stared at Conrad’s flowered pajamas, but this was more or less a college town, and he was by far not the most unusual example of his age-group to be walking down the sidewalk. Nothing jumped out at them. Nothing started talking that shouldn’t be talking, tried to eat them, cast magic in their direction, or shoved glowing British things into their heads. Nothing at all.
It was great. They talked. They had an actual conversation that didn’t revolve around recent events, and one in which Conrad did not make an ass out of himself. Lily laughed. She smiled and punched him once in the shoulder when he said something funny, and she told him how video game magic would work in real life. It was more than great. It was awesome.
But then Lily unlocked the door to her apartment, and they both almost died.
Again.
At the sound of the door opening, Loki woke up from where he’d been sleeping on the couch. He shoved himself upright before his eyes were even open, a giant ball of black fire raging in his hand.
It said something about the eight different kinds of imminent death this asshole had put them through that Conrad ignored the magic show in favor of the fact that the guy looked more like shit than shit.
“Oh,” Loki muttered, the flames melting through his fingers, and relief? Disappointment? Really shouldn’t sound that similar. “Hey, kids.”
And Conrad realized all at once, he was sick of this.
“We talked to June,” he snapped, and yeah, the honeymoon was over. “She said she’ll save your ass if you show up at the Cauldron with us, but if you lost your card, you’re dead.”
He expected a fight. He expected Loki to get mean, threaten him a little, maybe knock him around. At the very least, he expected some reaction. But Loki only sat there, kind of boneless on the couch, like he hadn’t actually gotten up to fight because he couldn’t.
He looked… small. Which was ridiculous, really. He was still the same size—taller than Conrad, at any rate, and decidedly not human. This guy could shift into any shape or body he wanted to. Putting him in a human-suit didn’t make him any less creepy. But he looked empty, somehow. Exhausted.
His shape was slipping, Conrad realized. Loki seemed a lot less human than he’d been yesterday. Angular planes were cropping up in his face. His skull was lengthening somehow, his eyes flashing way too much pupil but with yellow ringing the edges, threatening to change into something else altogether. There was a look in his eyes like he’d been running for his life for a hell of a long time and he was getting closer and closer to the corner—but hey, wait a second. What was with the pity? Pretty sure everyone knew it was his fault to begin with.
Rubbing his temples, Loki shook his head. “You shouldn’t have got June involved.”
“Oh, and then what? We keep doing it your way?” Conrad demanded, because really, pity? This guy dragged him into a war against his will, practically kidnapped him at… at magic-point, and so what if he looked like he’d been a dog’s chew toy sometime in the recent past? That dog was following him to Conrad and Lily both just because Loki couldn’t just suck it up and give back, well, Mimir.
And alright, thinking about the guy as a person made the whole problem a hell of a lot more uncomfortable. Was it still abduction and trafficking if the guy was sort of dead? But no—not the point. Loki was a big boy, wearing big boy pants, and he could damn well deal with his own problems.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Conrad pressed when Loki didn’t reply, “but you’ve got a big, gaping hole in your side. Your way doesn’t really seem to be working. And also? The birds? Apology not accepted, jackass. They weren’t exactly pissed off pigeons.”
Loki turned, fixed him with his full attention and, wow, okay, now Conrad kind of knew how those decrepit, pinned up butterflies in the museum felt.
Naked and stuck.
“Yeah, I get it. Poor baby had to suffer through a magic trick. It was horrible and scary. Here, let me wipe the snot from your nose,” he snarled, glaring. “Kid, you do not want to see what will happen to the human race if I’m not around.”
“Because you’re doing such a great damn job with us so far?” Conrad shouted, but Loki didn’t care. He didn’t care because he didn’t have to. They were just humans and there would always be more humans. Easy to bully, easier to manipulate into tumbling off the cliff like goddamned lemmings, and something in Conrad snapped.
“You know what? Maybe we should just tell them you’re here.”
Loki snorted.
“Go ahead. That’ll work. And once Thor comes through that door, he’ll kill you, me, and burn down the world for good measure. Damn it, have you even read the Edda?”
“Look—” Lily started, but Conrad barely heard her.
“I read the part where you killed some guy for laughs,” he spat.
And, oh wow. Big damn mistake. Because suddenly Loki was huge—really, terrifyingly big—his runes burning hot blue on exposed skin, looming over him, and Conrad could see decimated battlefields in his eyes.
“Do not,” Loki snarled, “talk to me about Baldr.”
Conrad backed up, but there was nowhere to go. His shoulders hit the wall, hit a wall hook with some kind of tasteful little tapestry thing hanging beside the door, and he was trapped, falling, pinned, dissected, lost in black eyes, and Loki was grinning.
“I loved that boy like a son. It had to be done. Do you want to see why? I can show you the cities he decimated to please dear Daddy. The plagues. The broken, dismantled creatures dragging their entrails behind them, wailing for the god that was killing them. I watched empires fall because that boy wanted Odin’s undivided attention, crushing entire civilizations just to prove he could—don’t you fucking dare tell me I killed some guy for laughs.”
His eyes were closed. Conrad was sure his eyes were closed, squeezed as tightly shut as they could go, but he could see them. He could see the blood and the blackened, broken bodies. And they were still alive, sobbing and praying as Loki killed them one by one, because if he didn’t, they’d go on living like that forever. And he walked through the field, sword in hand, soaked in blood and bile—but they were still screaming, screaming—
“That’s enough.” Lily’s voice broke through the haze of magic like a cool, wet cloth. “Both of you.”
Conrad staggered off, gasping. Tears ran down his cheek and dignity, yeah, but he was crying, okay, because that was awful.
“A bit excessive, don’t you think?” Mimir murmured through the choking noise Conrad was making.
Looking sullen and not nearly apologetic enough, Loki eased back down into the shape he’d been sleeping in.
“No. I’m the only one standing between that and them, and not one of them appreciates it. Don’t tell me how to do my job.”
“And if you were in it for the praise, we’d be worshipping you by now, wouldn’t we?” Lily snapped, and she was actually staring him down. “Sit down and get your shirt off.”
Conrad looked at her like she’d lost her mind and, whoa, yeah, a glance over at Loki and he was looking at her the exact same way.
“What?”
“Sit down. Shirt off. I don’t know what’s under there, but you’re caked with blood. We’re going to the Cauldron tonight—all of us—and the last thing we need is for you to face down Ragnarok going septic.”
Loki pulled a face, the little scars where the stitches had been tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Gods don’t go septic,” he grumbled, but he was taking off his coat anyway, and what the hell was going on? What kind of Twilight Zone had they fallen into here?
“Yes, well. We’ve already established you’re not a god,” Lily muttered, and after a concerned glance in Conrad’s direction to make sure he wasn’t vomiting blood or anything, she disappeared into the kitchen.
For his part, Conrad barely noticed, just wo
rking on getting his breathing back under control. He watched, thinking in, out, in as Loki stripped off the eight thousand layers he was wearing, and yeah, he was a big boy, but that shirt hurt coming off, and it was obvious he was getting to where he could barely lift his arms above his head.
Also, Conrad didn’t realize bruises could turn that color.
Ha-ha, asshole, he thought viciously, followed abruptly by a half-panicked hope Loki could not read thoughts.
“How well does magic work on you when you let it?” Lily asked, emerging from the kitchen.
Loki eased himself gingerly back down onto the couch, abruptly hiding his grimace when she turned the corner. “Well enough, and look, I don’t need you mothering me—”
Lily gave him the Look. “Is that a bite mark?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. And as you can see, I’m—”
“A dog bit you?”
“Yes, alright, and I’m functioning fine.”
“Do you know how much bacteria is in a dog’s mouth? And how much of that bacteria is currently in that giant gaping hole you haven’t cleaned?”
Loki laughed, actually laughed, and leaned back on the couch. “Sweet, merciful Fates. You’re not one of mine at all. You’re Sigyn’s.”
“Yes, well, obviously your wife was a smart woman who had smart children. Now I am going to clean this up and put a little spell on it. Then, you are going to take a shower, and we are going to do something about that rag of a shirt you’re wearing and Neosporin the hell out of your chest.”
“Are we, now?” he asked, grinning, and it looked like he might refuse just for the hell of it. But Lily leveled a glare at him and, yeah, she was human, but suddenly Conrad wasn’t sure that he’d put his money on Loki if it came down to a fight.
“Yes,” she said, pouring alcohol onto her towel. “We are.”
The Trickster Edda Page 8
