Loki's Gambit, page 28
part #1 of I Bring the Fire Series
And suddenly, everything is a fun game. He smiles and taps his chin. “Why should I help you escape from your masters? Were you another girl I would suspect a tryst with a lover you wished to keep hidden, but since it’s you —”
She holds up a small beige device that has a faintly glowing face at the end of a handle. “So I can get to the micro lab at UIC’s med school in the next ten minutes and put the glowy-organic looking stuff inside this thing under a scope.”
Loki draws back. He’s seen these devices at ADUO but he hadn’t divined their purpose. “Humans can’t detect magic,” he says.
Scowling a little, Amy says, “Really?” She pushes it closer to Loki and it glows brighter. She smiles. “I think we can.”
Loki stares at the glow. They’re using Vanir technology to restrain magic—he’s investigated the wire mesh they used to attempt to contain Cera, and it is definitely Vanir in origin. In attempting to escape from it, Cera had panicked and fused part of herself with the mesh, ironically, making it physically stronger and more difficult to get her out.
Of course, to contain magic you have to know it’s there. Loki is suddenly very curious about this little device. Smiling, he puts a hand on her arm and lets invisibility fall over them like a shroud. “Let’s go,” he says.
The stairway of the main building of the University of Illinois Chicago’s Medical School is dark and too hot. A heater is clicking. It smells like burnt dust.
Loki’s arm is on hers. He held her arm the same way last time he made her invisible, when they slipped by the ADUO agents to get to the restaurant.
Amy’s grateful for his arm. You don’t realize how much you see of yourself until you can't see yourself. Glimpses of hands and feet, breasts, and the tip of her nose are little signals to her brain that she exists. Without them, it is disorientating.
Amy bites her lip. “I think you can make us visible now.”
She doesn’t feel anything, but she blinks and the tip of her nose comes into focus—or unfocus, rather. She sighs with relief.
“Come on,” she says, pulling Loki toward an elevator bank. They pass some med students on the way. They don’t even glance at Loki and Amy. Amy swallows. She misses veterinary school. She knows her job with ADUO is only for a year, but sometimes she feels like everything she learned is slipping away. That her brain is turning to mush. She is so bored, except for present company. She squeezes Loki’s arm.
She catches herself as they step into the elevator. Dropping his arm, she smiles up at him apologetically. Loki is focused on the numbers above the door and doesn’t seem to notice. He was ‘wearing’ a suit when he first popped up behind her this evening, but now he’s wearing jeans, a gray V-neck tee shirt, and sneakers. She blinks—exactly what one of the med students had been wearing. As if aware of her gaze, he turns to her and smirks.
She rolls her eyes.
The elevator stops at the Microbiology Department and they step out. There is a long white hallway with locked lab doors on either side. Loki peeks into the windows of one of the doors.
“Microscopes!” he says. Looking pleased, he turns to her. “Your people put a lot of effort into educating your healers.”
Amy peers into the little window and sees lab tables lined with scopes. Nothing special. “I guess.”
“Hoenir had the only microscope in Asgard. You have dozens here!”
“Yeah, ummm....and we have them in some elementary schools, most junior highs and almost every high school, too,” says Amy.
Loki turns his head to her, his eyes wide. “So much general access to the magics of your world,” he says.
It takes a moment for Amy to process that. School was always an escape for her, a place away from her mother and her revolving door of husbands and boyfriends. Someplace where there was stability and order. Math and science were her favorite subjects because they were so much less subjective than history and literature. In particular she loved biology because of its connection with living things. Her veterinary school education had taken her deeper into microbiology and histology, and she found she loved those subjects, too—even though the critters didn’t come with cute furry tails and whiskers. Life, on whatever scale, is fascinating to her.
She stares at Loki. “I have a feeling I’d hate Asgard.”
Loki draws up and tilts his head, a thoughtful expression on his face.
At that moment a familiar voice booms from down the hall. “Amy! It’s great to see you!”
Amy turns and smiles. It’s her friend James from her undergrad days. Amy has been called an “over achiever” in her life, but James puts her to shame. Just a few years older than her, he’s just finished his Ph.D. in microbiology and has a bachelor's in computer science. He’s healthy, tall, handsome...and married. Her eye catches at the flash of his ring. In typical perfectionist fashion, he’s managed to find a wife who is a beautiful, brilliant neuroscientist.
Laughing, James slaps a hand on her shoulder, nearly knocking her over. “Great to see you here. Katherine and I were so sorry you couldn’t make the wedding.”
“Yes, well...” she says.
He turns his eyes to Loki. “And who have we here?”
Before Amy can answer, Loki holds out his hand and smiles. “Loki.” There’s something a little bit challenging in his tone.
If there is a challenge there, James doesn’t see it. He takes Loki’s hand and pumps vigorously. “Ha, ha, ha! Your parents are mythology buffs! Mine are literature buffs! I was a coin toss away from being named Rudyard after Kipling. Are you studying veterinary medicine, too?”
Loki tilts his head. “No, my area of interest is...physics.”
Amy winces. Oh, no, he’s going to talk about physics with James.
Dropping his hand, James beams and gives a covert wink at Amy. “Really, my brother is a physicist working for NASA. Where did you go to school? What is your specialty?”
“I went to Oxford,” Loki says, chin high, and sounding far too pleased with himself. Amy winces again. Of all the schools...
“I went to Oxford on a Rhodes scholarship,” says James, happily leading them down the hall to his lab. “Who did you do your thesis with?”
Amy bites her lip, but Loki is saved from having to answer by a young man walking up to James, book in hand. “Dr. Swanson, I really don’t know why I need to know what bacteria survives in space to become a surgeon!”
For the first time, James’ smile drops. Amy hears him mutter, “Med students.” Turning back to Amy and Loki, he says, “I have to get to my lecture. Amy, you know where to go.”
Amy and Loki watch as he starts back the way they came, the med student next to him, saying something Amy can’t make out.
“You know, Amy,” Loki says quietly, “I never thought I’d see the disadvantage in the ease of modern Midgardian air travel.”
At that moment James turns around and calls down the hall. “Remember, in return for this favor, you’re going to tell me where you got that feather!”
Loki looks sideways at Amy, a glint in his eye.
With a gulp, Amy runs into James’ lab and hustles over to a counter with a microscope hooked up to a television monitor.
Loki follows and shuts the door behind them. With a too knowing grin on his face, he says, “Feather?”
Putting the ‘magic detector’ on the lab counter, Amy doesn’t meet his eyes. “I may have sent James a picture of a hadrosaur feather. He might have a slight interest in dinosaurs, a slight familiarity with comparative anatomy and avian and reptilian histology, and a general burning curiosity...and might have recognized it as being not quite feather like, but definitely not scale like.”
She swallows. She was on strict orders from ADUO not to talk of her trip to Alfheim, or about Loki, to anyone. Technically she didn’t talk about anything, though. She just sent a picture.
“Mmmmm-hmmm,” says Loki, walking over to join her, the magic detector glowing brighter as he does. She takes a nail file out of her purse. There is a seam in the plastic that runs along the side of the detection device. If she runs the nail file through it, she can loosen the outer casing and open it. She’s already done it once at her desk when she was being ignored...as usual. Swallowing again, she looks up at Loki.
Biting her lip nervously she says, “Ummm...so I’m really not supposed to be doing this. This little thing is supposedly worth 30 grand and it doesn’t even have the fancy gadgets and meters on it. It’s one of the prototypes.”
Bending close, Loki whispers, “I won’t tell.”
Amy lets out a breath and relaxes a little—but not too much. Loki is really close, leaning over her shoulder and making her nervous...or something. Running the file along the seam she says, “Bryant just gave it to me because he said I had a right to know if you were spying on me while I was in the shower or dressing.”
Pulling the nail file out of the seam she blushes. “Of course, I know you’d never do that.”
Loki says nothing, but he draws back a step. Amy hazards a glance at him.
One eyebrow cocked, Loki purses his lips. “You know, Amy, sometimes I think you’re very clever.”
Smiling, she turns back to the gadget in her hands.
“Other times,” says Loki, “I think that you are just a child with breasts.”
Amy scowls, then shakes her head. “Ha, ha, ha. Very funny.”
He sighs, but she’s not really paying attention. The device is coming apart. Other detectors may have fancy electronics and gizmos inside, but this one is surprisingly low tech. There are just two glass plates in the top above the handle; sandwiched between them is what looks like agar. On it is a light blue substance covering the plates in an irregular pattern. Well, it is light blue most of the time. Now with Loki around it’s glowing and almost white.
Loki steps close again.
Holding the plates up to the light she says. “See that, it looks organic. Now to grab a sample...”
As she preps a slide, Loki leans in so close his nose is inches away from the mystery substance. The plate flashes brightly, and he pulls back.
Amy grabs a Q Tip, swipes a bit of the mystery substance off a plate, dips the Q Tip onto the slide she’s prepped, and puts on the cover. Slipping the slide beneath the scope, Amy peers into the lenses and focuses. And then she backs away from the slide and puts her hand to her mouth.
Loki looks over to her, his eyes slightly wide. “What is it?”
Shaking her head, Amy stares at the long thin bacteria on the screen. They look like blades of pale blue-colored grass with striations crossing them horizontally. “I thought it would be something exotic—that’s why I wanted the monitor, so I could take pictures...”
She thought she might have to spend hours trying to find a near relative.
She bites her lip. “But this is so obviously Cyanobacteria. What species I have no idea, but definitely Cyanobacteria.”
“Cyanobacteria,” says Loki slowly. “Does it have another common name?”
“It’s most commonly known as algae...blue green algae,” Amy says.
Loki blinks. “Little organisms that float on water?”
“Yes,” says Amy. “They feed on sunlight.”
“These don’t feed on sunlight,” says Loki looking down at the glass plate. “They feed on magic. Light is their waste product.”
Amy’s eyes go wide. “Like midichlorians! Like in Star Wars! ”
Loki turns to her and blinks. “What are midichlorians? And what do these little organisms have to do with your country’s space defense system?”
She didn’t make him watch Star Wars! She’ll have to remedy that later. But now she’s bouncing on the balls of her feet, incredibly excited. “You’ve got little organelles in your body that feed on magic and they allow you to convert it into energy!”
Loki scowls. Then he snickers. “A fine hypothesis, but no. Not right. Trust me, I don’t shit light.” He snickers. “Or fart rainbows.”
At that he doubles over laughing and has to sit down on a chair. “Though my wives would have preferred it if I did!”
Amy stares at him. What is with men and potty humor?
Getting annoyed, Amy puts her hands on her hips. “So how do you use magic? And why can’t I?”
Loki straightens and wipes his eyes. “Oh, because you lack the proper neural tissue in adequate quantities. It’s called...it’s called...”
He looks away. “Well, you don’t have a name for it...I suppose that makes sense. You might not have discovered it since you have so little of it.” Turning, he gives her a look that is almost sympathetic. “Your species is retarded.”
Deciding to let that insult drop in the interest of science, Amy takes a step closer to him. “Where is it? In the frontal cortex? In the brainstem? Maybe in the subventricular zone?”
Loki stares at her. “In my species it is everywhere there is neural tissue.”
“Is it part of white matter?” says Amy. “Gray matter?”
His mouth drops a little, and then he shrugs. “I don’t really know. Biology isn’t my thing.” The side of his mouth quirks up. “I never did get into the soft sciences.”
Amy’s eyes go wide. She wants to say something biting about maybe if he knew a little more about biology he might be able to heal things instead of just blowing things up. But something tells her that would go badly. Instead, she just stands glaring at him, nearly blind with rage.
Seemingly oblivious to the violence in her glare, Loki wanders over to the plate again. “But these little critters—they do eat magic. They’re from Vanaheim. I’ve heard of them, though I’ve never actually seen them...”
There is a flash of light from the plate, and Loki takes a deep, strangled breath. Amy looks over with alarm. He’s trembling.
“Loki?” she says, moving quickly to his side. He starts to fall backwards and Amy whips a lab stool around for him to sit on.
He falls onto it, his weight pushing it back and its feet scraping the floor.
“Loki?” Amy says again. But he’s staring into space seemingly oblivious. And then his pupils blow out wide until there is no color at all in his irises. The skin around his eyes and his fingers starts to turn blue—and then the blue spreads across his face, and up his arms, like a wave rolling over sand. Where the blue meets his hairline, his hair begins to turn black; where it meets his clothing, the t-shirt and jeans turn to his armor. He’s actually wearing his sword. Some pieces of the plating on his left arm seem to be missing and she can see his limbs are turning blue, too.
He stares ahead. Perfectly still. And Amy catches her breath. He just looks so...magical.
He is with a man and a woman, young, familiar and unfamiliar. They are by a river, beneath the stars; and from the constellations Loki knows they are in Vanaheim. The man turns to Loki and says, “No ale shall pour, unless it is brought to us both.” They have no torches, and no fire, but it doesn’t matter because the slow water of the river is glowing.
And it would be mesmerizing if the woman weren’t more so. She is, he supposes, beautiful. But there is more to it than that. The softness of her form is an oasis Loki wants to dive into. Her eyes are soft, too, as soft as her magic, pale and gold—but abundant, full, and generous. As generous as her lips that are spilling into a smile. She turns, goes to the river, and brings back three crystal goblets full of the shining water. In her hands the water in the goblets swirls as bright as the sun. She passes one cup to Loki and one to the other man. “In lieu of ale,” the water fetcher says.
He is almost afraid to take the goblet for fear the light will dissipate. But the light only grows brighter as he tilts it to his lips...almost bright enough to burn through the dark velvet magic that swirls around the other man, his eyes piercing, his face smiling, his own goblet a star in a dark night.
A hand touches his cheek. The woman with the pale gold magic ...
“Loki?”
Loki blinks, and Amy pulls her hand away as though she’s been burned.
“What happened?” she whispers, her brows drawn together.
His jaw tenses. He’s hallucinating now? As the Midgardians say, oh fuck.
He rubs his face with his hands. “I think I’m just hungry.” Although he actually doesn’t feel particularly hungry. He doesn’t have that horrible gnawing feeling in his stomach at the moment. And his head is clear.
He meets Amy’s eyes and smiles.
Her brow relaxes, her lips turn up, and her chest heaves as she takes a breath. “You should have said something! We’re right by Little Italy. We can find a place where you can eat enough for an army.”
She’s wearing the most atrocious heavy black sweater that makes her look boxy and fat. But still, his memory can supply the details of the outline of her breasts, the narrow curve of her waist, the gentle slope on her side as her belly flows to her hips. He feels a buzz underneath his skin and his body goes hot; it’s almost a shock. He’s felt so dead for so long, and now, suddenly for no reason he can quite account for, he is, in the local vernacular, extremely turned on.
He stares at Amy and remembers her blushing at the restaurant when she thought he was praising her. It would be so terribly easy...
“Loki,” she says, holding out a hand toward his face.
Catching it in his own hand, he kisses her palm.
She gasps and takes a heavy breath. He looks up at her. Her lips are wet and parted, and she brings her other hand up toward his temple but doesn’t touch him. The look in her eyes is as though she is under some sort of spell. It’s been too long since anyone has looked at him like that.
With a gentle exhale of breath, she puts her hand to his temple and whispers almost reverently, “You’re blue.”
Loki goes cold. For the first time, he notices the hand holding hers. Why didn’t he see it from the first? He is as blue as...as...Helen. But he isn’t blue; why is this happening?
Dropping her hand he closes his eyes, concentrates, and lets his skin wash back to its normal color. He makes the Midgardian clothing reappear, too.
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