Loki's Gambit, page 116
part #1 of I Bring the Fire Series
Leaning closer to his ear, Amy whispers, “And no one’s figured out the person he’s looking for is Loki.”
Bohdi lifts an eyebrow at her. Across the room some music begins to play.
Eyes on an undecipherable point in the crowd, she says, “Makes sense, not a lot of people liked him.”
Bohdi flicks his lighter. Is he likable? Steve likes him. Mostly. Sometimes. He tells Bohdi it would help if he learned when to keep his mouth shut. Marion likes him—well, in bed. Laura, the legal counsel, calls him a pain in the ass. Hernandez is convinced he was a member of Al Queda. Brett and Bryant “tolerate him for comic relief,” but most of the techies don’t like him. Can he help it if he finds security loopholes in their code?
He sniffs. Why is he thinking about this? He lets out a huff and looks at the band just as they start up a tune. Tapping a finger in time, he tilts his head. It’s definitely not hip-hop, but it doesn’t sound as alien as he might have expected. The key is Western, although some of the instruments are unfamiliar. Tapping a finger on the table, Bodhi raises his eyebrows. “Is this a waltz?”
Amy perks. “Yes.” She puts a hand to her mouth. “Oh, they’re playing it for us to make us feel at home.”
Some people get up and start to dance in an open space by the windows. To Bohdi’s surprise, Gabbar starts dancing with a pretty girl… And he’s actually not bad. Bohdi thumbs the wheel on his lighter, again. From what he knows of Indian culture from the WWI era, that doesn’t seem culturally appropriate. But then, Indian culture isn’t monolithic, and what he knows of it is so fragmented…
A movement in the periphery of his vision catches his eye. Bohdi looks to see Pascal coming across the room, an easy smile on his lips, eyes on Amy.
Bohdi’s nostrils flare. Putting a hand on her arm and standing up he says, “Wanna dance?”
Her eyes widen, and she smiles. “You know how to waltz?” Despite the surprise in her voice, she stands with him.
His cheeks heat a little and he looks toward the ceiling, where butterflies are starting to light up. “Normally, I don’t like to admit it,” he says. “But yeah…” Asha, his ex, had been delighted to discover he could.
Amy’s eyes got wide, and her shoulders unslump. “I took ballroom dancing lessons for a friend’s wedding—how did you wind up learning?”
Leading her toward the dance floor and away from Pascal, Bohdi shrugs. “I have no idea.”
And normally he hates that, but right now, he doesn’t mind. Amy is smiling, and it’s the first time he’s seen her smile all day. It lifts his spirits a little. Trying to buoy the mood, he whispers conspiratorially, “I also know the foxtrot, the Charleston, and how to swing…but don’t tell the guys at the office.” To pull a laugh out of her, he says, “I can even tango…vertically and horizontally.”
Amy rolls her eyes, but she laughs, too. Grinning, Bohdi guides her into an open space on the floor, slips his left hand into hers, puts the other around her waist, and pulls her close. This is the best idea he’s had all day.
Lifting their hands and adopting a pose of exaggerated dancerly-ness, he says, “Ready?”
Nodding, Amy’s shoulders shake in what looks like a stifled giggle. When he raises his chin a little higher and gives an arrogant sniff, he hears a real giggle. He takes a step…and there is a bang from the direction of the doors so loud Bohdi can feel the vibrations in the floor. The music stops.
Head snapping toward the doors and Bohdi sees Assholes One and Two pointing in Amy’s direction and yelling something. Some maids are bowing and murmuring what sound like apologies; as soon as they’re done, they bolt from the room.
“What’s happening?” Bohdi whispers.
“Odin’s come back,” Amy says.
“And Thor?” says Bohdi.
She shakes her head. “No.”
Asshole One and Two lead Amy and Bohdi back to their rooms. Gabbar and Pascal follow on their heels. Both Einherjar are quiet and tense as they take their places on either side of Amy and Bohdi’s door. Amy enters, as Bohdi follows. Gabbar gives him a tight nod.
Before Bohdi can decipher what that is about, he hears Amy whisper, “Fuck.”
Pascal’s and Gabbar’s eyes widen, Bohdi steps into the room, and immediately sees what’s wrong. There is a fire roaring in the fireplace. Asshole Two is slipping another log in before their eyes under the watchful eye of Asshole One.
Turning, Asshole One says to Amy, “It is chilly. Room should be warm after bath. Maids prepare now.”
Bohdi turns toward the bathing room. He hears the sound of water, and voices speaking rapid Asgardian.
He glances down at Amy. She’s visibly shaking. Turning to Asshole One and Two, Bohdi says, “Get out.” He takes his knife out. He doesn’t open it, but for good measure, he tosses it once in his hand.
The two men look at each other and then scamper out of the room.
Amy’s head is bowed. Walking over to her, he puts his hands on her shoulders and says, “Amy, what’s going on?”
She gives a tight smile. “I’m supposed to have an audience with the Allfather.”
Bohdi swallows.
Looking down, she trembles. “In another universe, he tried to kill me. The only reason I escaped was because Loki tricked him and whisked me into the In-Between. In this universe…”
Bohdi’s jaw tightens. “You have me.” It comes out more bitter than he intends.
She is still for a moment, and then she lifts her eyes. He’s ready for a snort of derision, or at best a blank stare. Instead, he gets a small smile. “Yeah,” she says.
And that’s it; he’s going to kiss her.
Before he can, she ducks her head and pushes her cheek against his chest. Her hands go tentatively to his sides. “Can’t be worse than spiders, adze, kappa, Norns, or dragons,” she says.
Bohdi closes his eyes and wraps his arms around her back. She feels just as soft and wonderful as Chloe had. Better. She isn’t a mysterious almost-goddess; she’s human, just like he is.
Giving her a squeeze, he opens his eyes and pulls away so he can meet her eyes. “Don’t forget the alligators.”
Biting her lower lip, she nods. She’s still shaking.
And he is going to kiss her, but the door from the bathroom opens.
“Mademoiselle,” says one of the maids.
“I’ll go with them… It will buy us time,” she whispers. “Get the book.”
He nods.
Turning to the maid, Amy says, “Coming.”
Before she can break away, Bohdi whispers, “We’ll win. You’ll see.”
Amy turns back to him. She gives him a tentative smile. Voice a whisper, she says, “In that other universe, you outsmarted Loki…twice.”
Bohdi blinks.
From across the room, the maid says again, “Mademoiselle?”
“Coming,” Amy says again, turning away from Bohdi and not seeing the stupid grin that’s on his face.
As soon as the door closes, Bohdi rushes to the couch, finds the book, and slips it under his shirt. It’s not the thinnest thing, but the shirt is kind of poofy. As long as he stands up straight, it should be okay. He turns toward the roaring fire. They left the book of elf porn in the tunnel behind the fireplace for safekeeping. He sighs. Now they’ll never get it back.
The sound of the door swinging open snaps Bohdi back to the present. Spinning in place, he sees a line of maids marching into the room. One carries a dress, another what looks like combs or something, another maid brings what may be jewelry, and the last a pair of sparkly little high-heeled shoes. Bohdi glares, getting a very bad feeling about…everything.
He goes to the front door, opens it just a crack, and finds himself staring into the faces of two new Einherjar in full armor. One of them barks something at him.
“Errr…” says Bohdi.
From beyond his line of sight, he hears Gabbar’s voice. “Want do you want, Mr. Patel?”
Bohdi opens the door and smiles. “Just coming out to say hello?”
Voice perfectly flat, Gabbar says, “Hello.”
Bohdi looks to the new Einherjar in the hall—in addition to the two directly across from the door, there are four more—and Pascal and Gabbar, of course. All are standing stone faced. Pointing to the new guys Bohdi says, “So ummm…why…”
Pascal clears his throat. “The Allfather has decreed that Ms. Lewis should be treated with all the respect of a visiting princess. A princess deserves an honor guard.”
“Ah…” says Bohdi, jaw going tight. “Great.” The last word comes out kinda growly.
The Einherjar turn toward him.
Pascal coughs. Gabbar says something in their language; the guards’ shoulders soften and they nod. Taking Bohdi’s arm, Gabbar directs him back into the room. As the door shuts behind them, Gabbar says, “You are worried about the Allfather’s intentions toward your beloved.”
Bohdi scowls, his brain snagging on the last word.
“As well you might,” says Gabbar. “But you should know, all is not lost. There are many among the Einherjar who would see you as one of us. Odin respects the women of his men.”
Bohdi scratches the back of his neck. “Well that’s…” off, somehow, and he can’t quite wrap his brain around why.
“Good for morale,” says Gabbar, with a nod.
“Yeah…” says Bohdi, eyes sliding to the side. “But we’re not…”
“Married or betrothed, yet,” says Gabbar, emphasis heavy on the last word.
Bohdi shivers at the implicit you will be. “How do you figure that?” he says.
Gabbar’s eyebrows rise. “You sleep on the couch. A man would only do that for his beloved.”
Bohdi’s eyes go wide. He’s going to chalk this up to inter-cultural-and-generational misunderstanding. If Amy were his beloved, they would so be banging.
“Right,” says Bohdi.
Gabbar claps him on the shoulder. “Have courage. Proclaim your intent to marry her, and your wish to join the Einherjar, and it will all be well.”
“Oh…good,” says Bohdi. Prison doors bang shut in his mind. Not that he doesn’t like Amy, and he certainly doesn’t want anything bad to happen to her. Also, he would have loved the sleeping arrangements to have been different…but marriage?
Gabbar nods. “Or Odin may challenge you to a show of your martial prowess and you will die.” He claps Bohdi’s shoulder again. “But at least it will be with honor.”
Bohdi’s jaw falls, but he manages not to tremble when he says, “And my life’s highest ambition is to die with honor.”
“Good,” says Gabbar.
From the bathroom door comes Amy’s shout. “I will not wear this! This is not a dress! This is barely a slip!”
Gabbar’s eyebrows hike.
Bohdi smiles tightly. “That’s my princess.”
“I will leave you to her,” says Gabbar. With a final nod, he steps around Bohdi and heads for the door.
Bohdi stares at the bathroom entrance, rubbing the back of his neck and flicking his lighter. They have to escape.
“No!” Amy shouts. “No, no, no, no!”
He hears a woman’s voice say, “But is princess dress in the style of the Vanir—”
“No!”
Bohdi winces. Amy is shouting. Is he supposed to intervene?
From the bathroom come shrill shrieks and screams of fear. Bohdi runs to the bathroom door just in time for it to burst open and maids to come running out, shouting something in Asgardian. Amy comes out last. Her hair is upswept in an elaborate arrangement that looks like it might be painful. She’s scowling. One arm is across her chest. In that hand, she is clutching the flats she’d worn during the day. Her other hand hangs at her side, loosely clutching Squeakers in her fist.
Bohdi’s eyes widen, and his mouth opens but no sound comes out. The dress she wears is a sheer pale green fabric Bohdi would classify as mosquito net. He can see her belly button and the soft line between her abs. Her underwear is lacey and white. He can’t see if she’s wearing anything up top because of her arm. There is something that might loosely be described as a belt, but is more a shimmering white-gold cord. It twists around her body starting at just below her breasts, crisscrosses a dozen or more times, accentuating the curve of her waist, and then droops down around her hips, falling low in front, where it’s knotted. Atop the knot is a sort of gemstone pendant. About the size of Bohdi’s palm, it’s shaped like an upside-down triangle. It’s so suggestively placed and shaped…Bohdi’s jaw drops a little further and his eyebrows kiss his bangs.
She walks up to Bohdi and slips Squeakers into one of the many pockets in his vest as the maids run to the door.
“They think they saw a spidermouse,” says Amy. “But I didn’t see one.”
Bohdi sniffles. “Of course not.”
Pascal and Gabbar run into the room. “Quick, Mademoiselle, Mr. Patel! You must evacuate! There is a spidermouse infestation.”
Bohdi blinks.
“I don’t want to evacuate in this dress,” Amy mutters, and then adds, “I hate Odin.”
Bohdi forces his eyes away. He thinks he agrees about Odin, but he’s suspending judgment on the “dress.”
“Hurry!” says Pascal.
“Seems like a lot of fuss for a mouse,” Bohdi says.
“Err…yes…” says Amy.
Bohdi’s nose itches furiously. Before he can ask, Amy whispers, “But let’s just play along.”
She begins walking out of the room.
Pointing at Amy’s bare feet, one of the maids presses her hands to her mouth. “Your new shoes!”
Voice inflectionless, Amy mutters, “Oops, they must be back in there with the spidermouse.”
The maid’s eyes go wide, both hands flying back to her mouth. She looks at the bathroom door and quakes.
Amy walks right past her and into the hallway, Bohdi beside her. As soon as they leave their room, the Einherjar snap to attention. Gabbar barks something in Asgardian. He turns to Amy and Bohdi and says, “It is not quite time for your audience. I will see that you get some time…alone.”
“Um…thanks?” says Amy, eyes sliding to Bohdi.
He rubs the back of his neck and looks away. “Errrr…yes….” It doesn’t come out quite a squeak.
A few minutes after the “spidermouse infestation evacuation,” Bohdi and Amy are in a little room with two huge windows with long black curtains and a couple of not very comfortable-looking wooden chairs, and not much else. There are two doors: the one they came in and a second, larger wooden door. Gabbar gives Bohdi a pat on the shoulder and then leaves the way they came in, shutting the door behind him.
Amy spares Bohdi a confused look, and then slips on her shoes and makes a beeline for the second door. She starts yanking on the handle. “Damn, it’s locked!” she mutters.
She’s trying to escape. Escape is good. Bohdi starts dragging his hands along the walls. “Maybe there’s a secret passage in here,” he whispers.
“No,” Amy says. “But there’s one through this door, in Odin’s private library.”
Bohdi’s head jerks up. “How do you know that?”
Giving the door a bang with a small fist, Amy growls.
“Amy?” says Bohdi.
Not looking at him, she says, “The same way I know Asgardian.”
“Oh,” says Bohdi. Deciding he can ask questions later, he pulls out his knife, flips it open, and goes to the door. “Maybe I can pick the lock.”
Amy slides to the side as he slips the blade between the door and the wall. He tries to feel for a weakness, but the bolt feels solid and firmly in the strike plate. Falling to one knee, he keeps trying.
“What’s up with Gabbar?” Amy asks.
Not looking at her, Bohdi grunts.
“Bohdi?” says Amy.
He winces. Keeping his blade moving, eyes away from her, Bohdi says, “Well…he mentioned…if Odin’s intentions toward you are romantic…”
Amy snorts. Bohdi scowls. He just can’t bring himself to describe what Odin’s intentions could be. “…there may be an option.”
“What’s that?” says Amy.
Bohdi slides the blade out. Still on one knee, he turns to Amy. She is wearing a bra…or something that is bra-like beneath the mosquito netting. His eyes grow wide, he licks his lips, time stops…
Amy swallows audibly and crosses her arms over her chest. “Bohdi? Bohdi, up here…”
Bohdi blinks and looks up, feeling his face flush. Even he knows you’re supposed to look a girl in the eyes when you speak to her. “Ahhhh…”
She’s blushing. She also looks sad. Though why she should be sad with breasts like those…Bohdi opens his mouth to say something to that effect, but then realizes that they may be in a life or death situation here, and he probably won’t be able to think if he’s staring. So he says, “Would you like my vest?”
Amy smiles. “Oh, thank you, I’m cold.”
“I noticed,” Bohdi says, slipping off the vest, causing Mr. Squeakers to peek from the pocket.
Amy’s eyebrows rise. Snatching the vest from his hands, she puts it on with such speed and force Squeakers gives a surprised sounding cheep from the pocket.
Bohdi goes back to finding a weakness in the lock. There is a large, old-fashioned keyhole below the knob. It’s too small for his knife. His brow furrows.
Above him Amy huffs. “They’re only mammary glands.”
Bohdi tries to focus on the lock, but what he saw moments before rises to the forefront of his mind. “That’s like saying the Mona Lisa is only a painting.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, even though it’s sadly well concealed by his vest. “You’ve just been culturally sensitized to find mammary glands sexually appealing.”
Turning his head, Bohdi looks up at her. “I feel sorry for the man who is culturally desensitized to their appeal.” He holds up a hand. “Do you have a hairpin?”
Fishing around in her hair, Amy glares down at him. “Someday, they’ll be hanging down to my knees.”
Bohdi draws back at the image. “Why did you have to say that?” Amy holds out a little golden bobby pin thingy. As he takes it, she says, “Because it’s true, and that’s why women don’t like just being appreciated for their boobs.”
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