Loki's Gambit, page 101
part #1 of I Bring the Fire Series
Loki wants to fall to his knees, lean into her, and beg her for her help. His chest is filled with warmth, with love ignited by her caring. He almost does fall…but then something dark and wicked whispers in the back of his mind. When has Freyja ever asked him what he wants? And how is it that now she just knows?
“I will rule all of Asgard,” Freyja whispers. “And if you tell me what he’s after, you will have a powerful friend.”
Loki’s suddenly aware of Freyja’s magic glowing around them, but he can feel reason, like an icy snake, crawling up his spine. When has Freyja ever been his friend? Where was she when he was in the cave?
And even if she were his friend…Odin was his friend once, as well.
Loki takes a small step back, a rueful smile coming to his lips. “And then you can blackmail me, too?”
Freyja’s brow tightens. Her mouth opens, and she looks like she is going to refute him—but then she steps back. She reaches her hand to her neck and brushes the bare skin of her throat and shoulders, and sighs. “I will do what is best for Asgard. And what is best for Asgard will be good for your family, too.”
Loki looks into her eyes. She’s not lying…at least from her perspective. Loki takes another step back. The shift from emotional appeal to logic is sudden… If she had continued on her path of emotional manipulation, it would not have worked. When did she become so sensitive?
His jaw clenches. He still needs to find the necklace…Maybe he can trick her into revealing it.
“And what do you offer Asgard that Odin does not?” Loki asks.
Freyja straightens. Her voice becomes cool and professional. “Asgard is stagnating under the weight of Odin’s magic.” Taking a step forward, she says, “Our young take centuries to mature…and there are so few of them…”
Loki’s lip twitches. Her words ring true. There are a dwindling number of children. The task of raising them over centuries is something that few want to undertake more than once or twice in a lifetime.
“And you think this is Odin’s magic?” Loki asks, trying to look like he’s bored as he covertly scans her desk.
“I know it is,” says Freyja. “The same thing happened under the rule of my grandfather.”
Loki’s head jerks toward her. He had not known that. Freyja’s Vanir grandfather had ruled Asgard, before Odin slayed him…
Stepping closer, Freyja says, “And the young who mature in body never mature in mind. They play games of war and think that it makes them warriors. They are idle, lazy, and weak.”
Giving her a too brittle smile, Loki says, “I prefer my boys lazy and alive.” He looks down. One child is enough to lose in a lifetime.
Freyja takes a tiny step forward.
Loki looks up to see her stroking her neck. A tiny frown slips across her lips and then disappears. Hand still on her neck, she says, “I’m sure we can work something out…”
A frantic pounding sounds at the door.
“Come in,” Freyja says.
The servant bursts into the room. “My Lady,” she gasps. “Master Ord is here, and the Allfather is approaching.”
At that moment, Ord’s voice echoes down the hall. “Wife! Where are you? Something is…”
Ord is suddenly in the library. He sees Loki and Freyja standing together. Frowning, he says, “…amiss.” Eyes shifting to Loki, face hard, he says, “I thought you had an errand to do for Odin?”
Loki smiles tightly at him.
From down the hall comes the sound of boot steps. The Einherjar who’d been guarding the door comes into library and bows. “The Allfather is here.” His eyes go to Loki. “He is accompanied by your sons—among others.”
“Show the Allfather and his companions in,” says Freyja with a tight smile.
Loki finds himself backing toward the bookshelves as Odin enters the room with two members of the Diar, and four of his own Einherjar warriors. Standing between the warriors are Nari and Valli. They’re both golden haired like their mother. They’re as tall as Loki, but broader. They have Loki’s features, but they have Asgardian coloring—they’re tanned; they don’t sport Loki’s Frost Giant pallor.
Freyja’s own guards stand nervously just behind Odin’s entourage. Ord’s hand casually drops to the pommel of his sword.
“Father?” says Nari. Loki hazards a look at his son. Nari looks distinctly nervous. He is unarmed and wearing not a shred of armor. Valli is similarly dressed, but his face shows only curiosity.
Turning to Freyja, Odin says, “We were just on our way to go hunting and wondering if you’d like to join us?”
It’s an obvious lie and a threat. Loki grinds his teeth…It would be very easy for Odin’s warriors to kill Valli and Nari in a hunting excursion.
Freyja laughs. Sounding a little tired, she says, “Loki failed, Odin.”
Loki turns to her, shocked she’d call Odin at his game.
One side of Odin’s lip curls up. “Did you fail to find the necklace, Loki?” he asks.
“What are you talking about?” Ord says.
Freyja sighs and strokes her neck. “Finding the necklace would be impossible, even for Loki, because the dwarves have it. You’ve lost, Odin…”
“This is ridiculous!” Ord shouts. “Freyja turned the dwarves down. All of Asgard knows it!”
The Einherjar on either side of Loki’s sons step closer. Have they been instructed to kill Loki’s sons right here? He stiffens. How dare Freyja call Odin on his game and put Valli’s and Nari’s lives at stake.
Stepping forward, pink magic rising around her, Freyja says, “Do not take it out on Nari and Valli.”
Loki’s anger washes away at her words. She’s not playing with his sons…she wants to save them. Loki turns his eyes to the so-called Goddess of Love, Beauty, and War. For the first time, he thinks even he might love her. Sunlight is streaming down on Freyja, as though Asgard’s star is in love with her, too. For a fragile moment, Loki sees Freyja as a queen, proud, wise, firm, and caring. He sees all of Asgard basking in her reflected glow.
Dropping her hand, she inclines her head in Loki’s direction. “Your faith in this fool is just a symptom of your decline.”
The spell shatters. Loki takes a step back and hits the bookshelf behind him. A scroll falls to his feet.
Odin chuckles. He looks to Loki and says, “My faith is not misplaced. Loki, where is it?”
Loki’s mouth opens.
“It’s with the dwarves,” Freyja says, the lie sending shivers down Loki’s spine.
“Loki?” says Odin.
Loki looks between Freyja and Odin. One, at least, has some faith in him…And also has his sons nearly at sword point.
“I’m done with this,” says Freyja, taking a step toward the door—and the Allfather.
“Where is it, Loki?” says Odin. Loki looks toward his sons, and swallows.
“I don’t have it,” says Freyja, the lie prickling Loki’s skin.
He doesn’t know and…
Loki’s jaw drops. Freyja is a master of illusions, she’s always been adept at appearing as what a man—or woman—wants to see. Her spell is so strong, she fools her lovers’ minds into believing they feel what they want to feel: softness, strength, or taut skin on bone. She’s always been able to do that…but love is deeper than a beautiful shell. Love is an accident that comes from being what a person needs at the right time.
“Loki,” says Odin. His voice is deep, rich, almost fatherly.
“I know where it is,” Loki says.
Freyja’s hands go to her neck. With eyes almost pleading, she says, “Loki, I’m sorry, I…”
The gesture, the sudden empathy she’s never had before. All doubts are erased from Loki’s mind. “She’s wearing it,” he says.
“Liar!” says Ord.
Loki closes his eyes, concentrates, and wills the magic swirling around Freyja to still, the tiny photons passing through the chain he knows is there to show themselves and reveal the necklace.
Ord makes a choking noise.
“It’s a trick,” says Freyja.
Opening his eyes, he sees Ord ripping a golden necklace from Freyja’s throat. Ord lifts the tiny slip of gold, so fine it might be silk, to his eyes. Then he drops it to the floor, spins on his heels, and leaves the room.
“Ord!” says Freyja, trying to rush after him.
Odin raps his spear, Gungir, on the floor. “Stay, Freyja. We need to talk.”
“We’re not going hunting?” says Valli, sounding distinctly disappointed. Wide-eyed, doubtlessly aware of the danger they were just in, Nari turns to his brother, mouth gaping.
Loki massages the bridge of his nose. Love for children has nothing to do with them being the right person at the right time.
Amy looks down at the phone pieces spread out on her coat.
Despite the smoke, the sun is making sweat prickle on the back of her neck.
Bohdi is still lying with his head hanging over the side of the log. His eyes are open, but he’s very quiet.
She’s just about to ask him if he’s all right, when he says, “So…what happened to Freyja?”
She lets out a relieved sigh. “Odin made her part of the Diar…and ordered everyone in the room to keep quiet about the necklace. But he didn’t open the Diar to anyone else, like Freyja had originally suggested. And anytime she stepped out of line, he threatened to reveal the necklace to all of Asgard.”
She blinks and idly studies the blank surface of her phone. “It was kind of brilliant actually…Just enough carrot and stick to keep her in line.”
She shakes her head. “Sometimes Odin would use Freyja’s abilities to seduce his enemies. She could look like anyone…and with the necklace’s power to see into hearts…she could be anyone… Odin used her to blackmail them, sway them, or sometimes even kill them…”
Bohdi coughs. Amy looks upriver. She swears the fire is getting closer.
“Frieda was kind of Steve’s type…” Bohdi whispers. He pushes himself up on his arms and Amy quickly moves the coat out of the way.
Pulling himself into a sitting position, he says, “Super tall, with long legs, and they were talking law and shit for hours…”
Despite the heat, goose bumps rise on Amy’s skin.
Looking up to the sky, he says, “Up until the point when she invited me back to her hotel…I thought…that there might be something there between them.”
Amy feels her body relax.
Bohdi runs a hand through his hair. “Ah…my brain is just on the crazy train. I mean Steve’s not that important…He’s just a mid-level bureaucrat, right?”
Amy starts to reassure him, to say that Steve isn’t in any danger. But she can’t. In another universe, Steve Rogers was one of the first people a nearly omnipotent Odin put to death.
Bohdi wraps his arms around himself. His clothing is dry, but he shivers. He’s not quite looking at her eyes when he says, “Aren’t you cold?” He shivers so violently his teeth chatter and doesn’t so much lie back down, as fall.
…And Amy knows she has more immediate concerns than Steve and Freyja.
Chapter Fifteen
Garbage blows through the underpass beneath Congress Parkway and Des Plaines Avenue. Beside Steve, Beatrice says, “This isn’t a gate to Nornheim. We’re wasting our time.”
Steve can’t look at her. His attention is riveted to Gerðr. She’s not wearing any magic-blocking helmet or cuffs. In her heavy down jacket, borrowed boots, and ill-fitting jeans, she shouldn’t be so alluring.
Standing facing him, Gerðr’s eyes are closed and she’s whispering words he can’t hear. Steve can almost imagine her… He turns around and finds himself staring at the backs of Brett and Bryant. Besides Beatrice, Stodgill, Brett, and Bryant are the only members of ADUO Steve trusts for this little assignment. They all have the dubious distinction of believing that Loki was being controlled by Cera when he attacked Chicago. Stodgill because, “If he was so intent on conquering the world, why would he disappear right when he was about to win?” Beatrice, Brett, and Bryant because, “Loki was an ass, just not that kind of ass.”
“Is she done yet?” says Brett, snapping Steve from his reverie.
“Can she put the hat back on?” says Bryant.
“Mmmm…” is all Steve can manage to say. Forcing himself not to turn around, Steve looks up Des Plaines Avenue. There are no ravens in sight; they’d managed to give Steve’s minders the slip. It’s close to dusk and lights are coming on in the homes of the high-rise condo buildings. Most of the homes will stay dark. Magic is still in this town, and it brings only destruction; they haven’t learned to harness it. Hell, the scientists he’s talked to say they don’t even know what it is.
From behind them, Laura Stodgill says, “She’s back!”
Steve turns around. Gerðr is standing exactly where she was a moment before. But her light blue eyes are wide, and her lashes are thick with snow. More flakes dust her hair and shoulders. Trails of ice sparkle down her cheeks. She looks exactly like the illustration of a snow fairy that Claire has in one of her picture books, a magical vision that steals Steve’s breath away.
Beatrice comes forward and puts a pink crocheted cap on Gerðr’s head. Steve blinks. The pink crocheted cap hides Promethean Wire. Ice still sparkles on Gerðr’s cheeks, but he finds he can speak again…and he realizes the ice trails are from tears.
Clearing his throat he says, “Gerðr?”
Gerðr looks down. “It is a path to Jotunheim.”
She puts her hand to her mouth. Laura puts a hand on her shoulder, and Gerðr chokes out, “But…leads to South Wastes.”
Steve stands at a safe distance, waiting to hear more.
Sounding like she’s biting back a sob, Gerðr says, “Cannot go home this way. Even in summer, I don’t know way…and there is South Sea to cross.”
“Well, we’ll keep looking,” Steve says. He has to make magic, and magical World Gates, an advantage for this town. Trade with creatures that might want human technology and can clean up the messes human technology causes could help with that. But first, they need to make contact.
Gerðr thinks that Odin is already interfering in the US, cutting humans off from the Allfather’s magical enemies.
But Steve has a plan.
“There is…gate…I came from,” says Gerðr, referring to the first gate she took from Jotunheim to Earth.
Steve shakes his head. “Under several tons of rocks in hostile territory in Afghanistan.”
“We should be looking for more gates to Nornheim!” says Beatrice.
Steve rubs his eyes. “We are, Beatrice.”
“You said the drones picked up evidence that Bohdi and my granddaughter are still alive!”
Steve walks over and opens the doors to the windowless van they’ve brought with them. “That I did,” he says, gesturing with his head for the others to climb in. He left out the part about the giant spiders.
“We should be sending in troops—”
Steve snaps. “Amy and Bohdi were hundreds of miles from the World Gate when they made contact with the drone. Even if I parachuted troops in, there would be no way for us to get to them—let alone get them out if we did reach them. The gate is thousands of feet above the ground and too small for a chopper!”
He feels a little sick thinking about Bohdi and Amy. He wants to help…but won’t send a team to certain death.
Beatrice averts her eyes and climbs into the van.
Steve waits for the rest of the team to enter, images the drone picked up replaying in his mind.
His hands clench at his sides. He’s not going to mourn Amy or Bohdi yet. Amy is resourceful, Bohdi has survival training, and Thor won’t leave comrades-in-arms behind.
He looks at the spot where Gerðr had just made a million-or-more light-year journey to Jotunheim. Maybe he’s just pushing away uncomfortable truths by finding a new project? That would be his ex-wife’s analysis. Steve bows his head and tries not to think of that first terrible year with Claire, the hole in her heart, how he destroyed his marriage, and almost lost his little girl.
The van starts and Steve’s body sags. He has lost his little girl. She’s in the Ukraine now.
Ducking his head, he climbs into the van and shuts the door just in time to hear a newscaster over the radio say, “And there have been allegations that Associate Director Steve Rogers, who many hope will run for mayor, took advantage of a prisoner in the FBI’s custody. Human rights watch groups are pushing for—”
In the driver’s seat, Laura hurriedly turns off the radio.
Steve rolls his eyes. Skírnir’s allegations at the meeting have been made public. Perfect.
From the front of the van, Laura says, “I’m already on it.”
As Steve crouches his too large frame into a seat, Gerðr says, “You…are…in problem?”
Steve waves a hand. “Doesn’t matter.”
Scowling, Gerðr sits up straighter. “I will…” She bites her lip, and gives a tight nod. “Speak against you.”
Steve’s mouth falls open.
“What!” says Bryant. Brett grunts.
“I don’t think you said what you think you said, dear,” says Beatrice.
Gerðr’s lower lip trembles. “I…you.” With a frustrated growl, she rips the crocheted hat from her head, then smiles, and says in perfect English, “Testify on your behalf.” Before Brett, Bryant, or Steve can drool, she puts the hat back on and then gives a little nod.
Steve’s eyebrows go up. Well…that is…oddly touching. Of course, his enemies would claim she was under duress. Shaking his head, he says, “It won’t come to that. We have plenty of witness testimony.”
He’s not sure if he is imagining it, but he thinks Gerðr’s face falls slightly.
They’re almost at the office when Steve’s cell phone starts playing Green River.
Brett and Bryant perk up like bird dogs on a scent. “You like Creedence?” says Brett.
“Sure,” says Steve. Not really. Bohdi set up that ring tone—the thought makes his throat tighten up a bit, but Steve thinks he knows who the tone is for, and that’s a bit of good news. He glances down. Sure enough…It’s Dale Meechum, his CIA contact in Eastern Europe, and best friend from Officers Training School.
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