Loki's Gambit, page 120
part #1 of I Bring the Fire Series
Hands in his pockets, Bohdi says, “Can we talk?” His eyes go to her grandmother. “Alone for a minute?”
Beside Amy, Beatrice whispers, “He obviously doesn’t know I’m packing.”
Amy shoots her grandmother a glare, but Beatrice is too busy glaring at Bohdi to notice.
“Yes,” says Amy, her heart giving an extra thud. “Yes, a talk would be…fine.”
Giving Beatrice what she hopes is an appeasing smile, she follows Bohdi back into the conference room, stepping over some broken electronicky thingies on the floor as she does.
She’s not sure what she expected him to ask her, but when he closes the door behind her and says, “So…when we lied and said Frigga told us about the tunnels…how did you really know the way out?” Her heart sinks a little.
Swallowing, she looks to the window, still curtained. She promised to tell him.
Shoving her hands into her pockets, she says, “Loki gave me his memories.”
Bohdi tilts his head. “What kind of memories?”
Amy shrugs. “I guess…all of them?” Unable to meet his eyes, she says, “I sort of stumble on them when I need them, they’re not at the forefront of my mind all the time. It kind of makes sense, the brain isn’t a whole bunch of highways, it’s a whole lot of side roads and—”
“He wanted to protect you,” says Bohdi.
Amy stops, words dying on her tongue. Her eyes go to his. His face is very serious. But then it has been since before they left Asgard. It makes her a little sad.
Bohdi nods. Voice very somber, he says, “He knew Odin would get his hands on you eventually, and he loved you and so he made sure you were protected.”
Amy’s mouth drops open. And then she shakes her head. “No, no, he gave me his memories so that I could remind him who he was, and what his oath was. He didn’t do it for me.”
Bohdi cocks his head. “His oath?”
Amy sighs and looks down. “He keeps oaths, even across lifetimes.” She smiles tightly. “His last oath was to have Odin kneel before him while all of Asgard burns to the ground.”
Bohdi snorts.
Amy looks up to see him rolling his eyes.
“Well, that’s kind of extreme,” Bohdi says, shaking his head. “Odin’s a dick, but not everyone in Asgard is.” His jaw tightens…and something in Amy loosens and uncoils.
She feels the corners of her lips turn up. Bohdi isn’t Loki. His highest ambition isn’t to destroy a race.
“Yes,” she sighs. “It’s extreme…and no, Loki didn’t love me…” She swallows, not sure why it’s important he know that. Maybe she’s just trying to keep it straight in her own mind?
Bohdi raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? It seems to me that Loki might not be the most reliable narrator.”
Amy blinks. That is possibly the nicest thing anyone has said about her relationship with Loki since…
She looks away. “You talked with Thor?” she says.
Bohdi shrugs. “Oh, yeah. They still haven’t found Loki.”
Amy frowns and Bohdi adds quickly, “But don’t worry…I’m sure he’s…you know…okay.”
Amy swallows.
“He’ll find you,” says Bohdi, softly.
She takes a breath. It’s important Loki find her, and she vowed to help him…but she’s no closer to finding him than when she left for Nornheim. She shakes her head. “How…?”
Will she find him? What will she do when she does? And how can she reconcile a life with this burden?
Bohdi coughs, and she looks up to find a mischievous grin on his face. He gives her a wink. “You know…there might possibly be magic involved.”
Amy stares at him, and then remembers those were her own words about Nidhogg’s ability to fly. She laughs, and Bohdi’s smile broadens. She takes a step toward him, or maybe he takes a step toward her, or maybe both, but they’re suddenly very close.
There is a click, and she turns sharply to see the door swing open. It takes her a moment to recognize the silhouetted figure there. It’s the pretty agent from the photo of Bohdi at the ball game.
“Am I interrupting something?” the agent says, looking between the two of them.
“No,” says Amy, doing a pretty good job of not sounding guilty…even if it feels like the woman is interrupting something.
“Um,” says Bohdi.
The agent rushes toward Bohdi, arms outstretched. “Oh, Bohdi I’m so glad you’re back.”
Amy’s jaw drops as the agent wraps her arms around Bohdi.
“Erm…” he says right before the agent plants her lips on his.
Or maybe the agent hadn’t interrupted anything. Face heating, Amy breaks for the door. She’s just stepped out into the hallway when Beatrice’s voice calls out. “Oh, there you are…”
“Let’s go,” Amy says quickly, heading toward the elevator.
Bohdi gently pushes Marion away. It’s nice to be welcomed back, but the timing and Marion’s particular brand of enthusiasm… He looks toward the doorway, and winces remembering the hurt and embarrassment he saw in Amy’s eyes.
Marion follows his gaze. “I did interrupt something, didn’t I?”
Bohdi’s eyes snap to hers. Her brows are knit with concern. Because maybe they don’t love each other, but they do care.
She pulls back, her eyes searching his face. He can’t read her expression. She definitely doesn’t look happy, but she’s always been clear that the “ship” in their relationship was going nowhere. He looks to the door. He wants to chase after Amy…and he can’t think clearly…and doesn’t know how to spare Marion’s feelings if he has hurt them. “I don’t know,” he says truthfully.
She gives him a smile that is knowing, and maybe a little sad. “Yeah, you do.” She looks toward the door, and back to him. “Shouldn’t you go get her?”
“I, uh, maybe?” Bohdi says.
Marion rolls her eyes. Inclining her head to the door, she says, “Go.”
Bohdi gently squeezes the top of her arms and kisses her cheek. “Thanks,” he says.
She gives him a nod just before he runs out into the hallway. He doesn’t see Amy. He darts toward the elevators and hits the button. He stands for a few minutes in front of the doors, tapping his hand against his thigh.
The doors don’t open. Spinning, he goes to the stairs. Barreling through the fire doors, he takes the steps two at a time until he reaches the lobby. It’s nearly six thirty. There are a lot of people heading home, but he doesn’t see Amy there, either. He pats his pocket and realizes he doesn’t have his phone. And he doesn’t even know her number.
He’ll find it. Bohdi dashes back up the stairs to his cubicle. It takes him only a few minutes to find her number. He dials it with the phone on his desk, his mind racing trying to think of what to say. He hears ringing on his phone, and then his heart leaps when he hears a corresponding ring just a few cubicles away. Leaving his phone on the desk, he races toward the sound…
…and finds Brett and Bryant holding up Amy’s cell phone.
“Huh,” says Brett. “It still works.”
Bryant shakes his head. “But with the amount of water damage it sustained it can’t be reliable.”
“Where’s Amy?” Bohdi says.
The two techies turn to him with what feels like agonizing slowness. They shrug. “We were just going to exchange this thing for a new phone,” Bryant says. “Since hers broke in the line of duty.”
From behind Bohdi, comes Steve’s voice. “She and Beatrice left.”
Bohdi’s body sags. He turns slowly to his boss.
“What’s wrong?” says Steve.
Bohdi’s mouth opens. He can’t meet Steve’s gaze. Hadn’t Steve warned him not to get involved with anyone in the office? Didn’t he say that it always ended badly? Bohdi had thought he’d proven Steve wrong—but now he’s lost his chance at, well, something…because of his own…
His hand goes to his pocket, and wraps around his lighter. Because of his own chaos.
Odin’s voice rings in his ears. He destroys everything and everyone he loves.
Bohdi looks down at the floor and remembers Amy bleeding in the snow. If he cares about her even a little, he should probably stay away from her…
“Bohdi?” Steve says.
Bohdi shakes his head, remembering Steve’s question. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong.” Even if maybe everything is.
He looks up to see Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Uh, huh.” Steve takes a step forward. “I could use a drink…” He puts a hand on Bohdi’s shoulder. “And if I’m drinking, you’re drinking.”
Odin’s voice rings in Bohdi’s mind again. He will die in pain and fire.
“A drink sounds good,” Bohdi says. Or more accurately, getting drunk to the point of oblivion sounds good.
“Come on, let’s go,” says Steve, guiding him toward the elevators.
And why not indulge in a little self-destructive behavior? Bohdi finds himself smiling tightly.
What does he have to lose?
THE SLIP
An I Bring the Fire Short Story
It's only been a few days since Veterinarian Amy Lewis escaped Asgard with the FBI's professional hacker, Bohdi Patel. The escape involved "borrowing" Odin's magical, world-walking, eight-legged, horse, Sleipnir. Now Odin wants Sleipnir back. FBI Director Steve Rogers doesn't want Odin getting anything he wants. Amy and Bohdi want to set Sleipnir free. The horse has his own ideas. A story (mostly) from Sleipnir's point of smell.
The Slip
Only a few days have passed since Amy and Bohdi escaped Asgard. Now, she is in Grant Park by Lake Michigan, jogging beside Sleipnir, an eight-legged stallion, child of one of Loki’s former incarnations, and Odin’s former steed. The day is bright and clear, but cold. The ground is half covered in snow, and the park is completely empty of people.
Amy holds the loop of a dog leash in her hand. The other end is clipped to Gleipnir, the magical, unbreakable halter Sleipnir wears at all times. It compels him to obey; Amy isn’t sure how―but she’s never worked with a horse that’s needed so little prompting to behave.
On Sleipnir’s back, sitting in a saddle borrowed from the Chicago City Police Department’s mounted patrol, sits Claire, the ten-year-old daughter of Amy’s boss, Steve Rogers.
Steve would probably kill her if he knew she was letting Claire do this. Sleipnir is the most enormous horse Amy’s ever seen, and during veterinary training she worked with Clydesdales. A fall could break Claire’s neck. But Claire’s smiling wildly, white teeth flashing in her coffee-and-cream skin. She’s happy … and Steve said she’d been sinking into depression since the murder of her mother.
“You’re doing great,” Amy says.
“It’s easy!” says Claire, her hands buried in Sleipnir’s mane.
“You make it look easy,” says Amy. Sleipnir has a beautiful smooth gait, but there’s no denying Claire’s posture is perfect. Maybe it’s all her training as a ballerina, but she sits up straight in the saddle, head high, and moves seemingly unconsciously with the big horse.
Sleipnir gives a whicker, and Claire says, “Oh, look! Unicorns!”
Amy raises her head. Where before had just been Buckingham fountain, dry and empty for the winter, there is now a herd of the world-walking, magical beasts, ears pricked in their direction.
Before Amy has even recovered from her surprise, Claire says to Sleipnir, “Do you want to go visit your friends?”
Sleipnir bobs his head, and Claire shouts, “Let’s go!”
Obeying Claire’s command, Sleipnir gracefully pivots toward the unicorn herd. The movement is so smooth Claire doesn’t even wobble, but so quick that the loop of lead slips from Amy’s wrist and out of her hand. Amy almost curses―she’d been so lulled by Sleipnir’s obedient demeanor, she forgot that she had to worry about his rider’s temperament. Sprinting to catch up, she shouts, “Claire! Stop! Unicorns can be dangerous!”
Looking over her shoulder, Claire says, “Unicorns like us, remember?”
“But they might not like Sleipnir!” Amy says. As if to prove her point, the stallion of the herd trots forward, eyes on his eight-legged potential rival. Snorting, ears flattened against his neck, the unicorn stallion shakes his head and stomps his feet.
Sleipnir, oblivious, or simply unafraid, continues to trot forward.
Amy’s eyes widen. If Claire falls from his back … “Sleipnir, remember Claire,” Amy begs under her breath.
She doesn’t expect Sleipnir to respond. But he does. He draws gently to a stop, as though being careful not to dislodge his young rider. Turning his head back in Amy’s direction, he pricks his ears in her direction. His big brown eyes look hauntingly knowing.
She sucks in a breath as she catches the lead. Just how much does he understand?
The unicorn stallion prances and gives a shrill, triumphant whinny.
Turning to the other horse, Sleipnir trembles, his ears go back and his nostrils go wide, as though he’s resisting the urge to lunge.
The mares in the herd start to whinny, roll their eyes, and snort. At first Amy thinks it’s at the antics of the two males, but then the unicorn stallion lifts its head, gaze going to a point in the sky beyond Amy’s shoulder. Rolling his eyes, he steps backwards.
Amy turns her head and looks up. Swooping down from the sky is what looks like a flock of angels. Her eyes go wide. “Valkyries,” she says. The winged women warriors of Asgard.
“What do they want?” says Claire.
Amy’s blood runs cold. She remembers Bohdi’s prediction after their escape from Asgard, “Odin will never let us get away with this. He will hunt us until the end of our lives.”
Thor said that Frigga was on Amy and Bohdi’s side, and that she’d claimed their escape was at her directive but …
From the sky comes a bloodcurdling cry. Amy sees the Valkyries raise their spears. Even though they’re far away she can see the points of their weapons start to glow red. Pulling to the end of the lead, the big horse turns to face the Valkyries. Tossing his head he releases a bellow that is nearly as bloodcurdling as the winged warriors’ shrill cries.
“Claire, hold on!” Amy shouts, lunging for Sleipnir’s long mane. She’s barely grabbed a handful of silky strands when a blast of red streaks in the periphery of her vision. The spot where she just stood erupts into flame. More beams of red streak around Amy, Sleipnir and Claire.
From the sky a Valkyrie shrieks, “Halt!” More beams of red streak to the ground, smoke rising up where grass begins to smolder.
Sleipnir snorts. Tightening her grip in the stallion’s mane, Amy shouts, “Sleipnir, slip!”
The stallion turns in place, and there is suddenly silence. Sleipnir is the fastest horse in the Nine Realms. Not because of his eight legs, but because he can slip through time―hence his name. Sleipnir translates to “the slipper.” Time stands still around Amy, Claire, and Sleipnir. There is no wind and it is absolutely silent. Claire looks down at Amy, eyes wide. Her mouth moves, but they are beyond sound now.
Sleipnir is so tall, Amy is almost dangling from his mane, but she knows from Loki’s memories that she has to be physically touching the great horse to move through time with him. She looks around. The blast of plasma fire from the Valkyries’ spears hangs in the air, forming a cage around them, but there is a gap. Amy guides Sleipnir to the one passageway in the frozen fire. The big horse has to bend his neck to fit, but he doesn’t balk. Amy sees Claire’s arms shaking, as she presses herself to the horse’s back to fit beneath the beam of red.
As soon as they’re through, Amy releases a breath. Still awkwardly clutching Sleipnir’s mane, she takes off at a jog toward headquarters. Looking over her shoulder, she checks on Claire. She doesn’t know what to expect―maybe fear, maybe tears. Claire’s face is sparkling with wet rivulets, but her mouth is set in a hard line that looks disturbingly out of place on a little girl.
Amy can’t dwell on it. She guides Sleipnir around cars, bicycles, and pedestrians that are at an eerie standstill. She’s not an athlete but her body feels light―still, by the time she reaches the FBI’s office of Anomalous Devices of Unknown Origin’s (ADUO) headquarters, her fingers are hurting from clutching his mane, her arm is burning from the strain, and her heart is beating hard. When she sees what is greeting her outside of headquarters, her heart almost stops.
Steve, Claire’s father, is standing in front of ADUO’s main door, hands on his hips, with agents on either side of him. Beatrice and Bohdi are on one side, Dale and the McDowell brothers on the other, plus several random agents Amy doesn’t recognize. Facing them is a line of a dozen Einherjar, Odin’s elite guard. Their spears are upraised, and the ends are glowing.
She brings Sleipnir to a halt, her mind churning. Sleipnir turns his head and gives her another strangely intelligent look...as though waiting for her direction. But before she can think of a coherent plan, Sleipnir turns his head back around and trots toward the line of gleaming weapons.
Nostrils wide, Sleipnir inhales deeply and takes in the many scents around him. On his back, the little two-legged foal, known as Claire, shivers. He restrains his instinctive reaction to mirror his rider’s nerves; he isn’t some skittish four-legged fool―or a foal.
Surveying the scene with nose and eyes he realizes the reason for his little rider’s concern. The nearly black leader of the human herd, known as Director Rogers, is facing down at least twelve warriors of Sleipnir’s master, Odin. Their spears are ready to shoot flames. Director’s scent identifies him as one of Claire’s family members.
Turning his head, Sleipnir looks back at the older, two-legged female called Amy, or sometimes, Doctor Lewis. Hands firmly fisted in his mane, she smells like fear. She hasn’t given him any direction. The magical rope that binds his nose and neck does not bite, or worse, whisper into his mind. It is like in the field when he is free to graze. Or sometimes, like in battle, when The Master trusts him to keep them safe.
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