Loki's Gambit, page 38
part #1 of I Bring the Fire Series
Amy takes a deep breath. Those injuries, they’re her fault, but it is better than the alternative... isn’t it?
Staring at the ceiling, the giantess says, “I will talk with you now —”
Amy bites her lip. Well, that’s promising.
“—human scum. But I will not play your games!”
Amy blinks and sets Fenrir down. Did she hope to be friends? “Sure. Want to start with your name?”
Turning her head, the giantess screams. “Impudent mortal filth! You know my name from Loki!” Thrashing at her bonds, she hisses. “No. More. Games.”
Stunned, Amy takes a step back. In her arms Fenrir growls. Amy’s breath hitches and she squeaks. “He actually never told us.” Sagging into her chair, Amy wipes her eyes. No wonder the giantess didn’t trust her. “He’s not...not very reliable.”
The giantess begins to laugh. It’s not a pretty sound. “Oh, you can always rely on Loki.” The woman’s lip is turned up in a snarl. “You can always rely on Loki to deceive and destroy!”
Amy draws back in her chair, and Fenrir sits upright, a growl erupting in her throat.
Staring at the ceiling the giantess’ eyes go wild. “For the sake of Jotunheim and Jotunheim alone I will talk to you!”
“Ummm...okay,” says Amy. “What should we call you?”
Straining against her bonds, the giantess raises her head as high as she can. “You may call me Gerðr.”
Later that day Amy meets with the Steve in the conference room. Brett and Bryant and some of the new linguist guys are there, too.
She feels wiped. It worked. Her super duper plan to let Gerðr out proved to the giantess they were protecting her—even if they were only idiot magicless humans. Amy’s telling herself the fact that Gerðr tried to beat her brains in to get through the back door to Cera isn’t really her fault. Even if she knew, or at least suspected it would happen.
…and it’s better than sending her to Gitmo, or Egypt, or Iraq to be “interviewed.”
She bites her lip and looks around. Everyone else looks happy and elated. Steve’s even smiling a bit and humming.
Fenrir hops up onto her lap and Amy runs her fingers through her fur. Steve hits a button on his computer and Gerðr’s voice fills the room.
Several sets of eyes look to her. Amy blinks. “That’s where she is explaining that a magical creature can use objects of power as sort of...well, a battery. It takes energy to collect magic to direct, but with something like Cera, all the magic is collected and ready to be directed.” She scowls. “Or as Gerðr said, ‘all the magic is ready to be directed, you deficient mortal fool.”
“Nice, nice,” says Steve, looking at the transcript.
Amy raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Fenrir presses her nose against her palm and Amy closes her eyes. They learned a lot from Gerðr today. About magic, Asgard and the other realms, and about Loki.
Amy scowls. According to Gerðr, Loki is only tolerated by Thor, Odin, ‘the mute gardener’ Hoenir, his wives and his children—one of them a child that was a ‘disgraceful disfigured blemish on the jotunn race.’
Gerðr also says that Loki is a womanizer, murderer, gambler and a drunkard. Amy can’t quite reconcile that image with the man who conjured butterflies for Abby, the little girl in the restaurant.
...But hadn’t Loki told her during their trip to Alfheim that he’d seduced Sif, Thor’s wife? And by Gerðr’s accounts Thor was the closest thing besides Hoenir and Odin that Loki had to a friend.
“Amy?” says Steve.
Blinking, she looks up and meets Steve’s eyes.
“Thought we lost you there for a moment,” he says.
She smiles tightly. “I’m just tired.”
At exactly that moment the phone in the conference room buzzes. “It’s Jameson,” Steve mutters, hitting the accept button.
Jameson’s voice fills the room. “Agent Rogers, is your team there?”
“On speaker,” says Steve.
“We’ve had another breakthrough.” Jameson says. “One of our agents in Visby just happened to overhear a woman in a bar say a recent one-night stand turned blue after their encounter. The agents interviewed her. He fits Loki’s description perfectly. I can pipe the video in to you.”
Amy suddenly feels all eyes in the room on her, and it’s like they have physical weight. Swallowing, she tightens her grip on Fenrir. “It’s not like he is my boyfriend or anything.” It comes out much softer than she intended. But she’s never thought that. Not really. And this shouldn’t make her feel weird...or disappointed.
Jameson’s voice cracks over the speaker. “Well?”
Steve’s voice sounds tight when he says, “Maybe we can get to it some other time.”
Amy feels a flush of relief and gratitude as she looks up to her boss.
But then Jameson’s voice crackles through the air again. “This is important. As I’m sure you’ll recognize when you see the footage.”
Amy goes cold. Standing, she says, “I think I’ll just take a break.”
Turning, she leaves the room without bothering to shut the door, Fenrir at her heels. She’s not quite to her desk when she hears Steve say, “We still need her to interface with Loki.”
She almost laughs to herself—and there she thought for a moment Steve cared about her feelings.
Bryant runs back into the conference room. “Lewis just left the office, Sir.” Steve scowls.
Making a noncommittal noise, Jameson says, “Get your vid screen up, gentlemen.”
Bryant hastens to comply. The video screen flickers to life. A woman in her late twenties or early thirties sits on a chair. The first thing Steve notices is that she is “well endowed.” She is sitting, wearing a short blue dress and heels, legs primly crossed. Her hair is blonde and brushed over her shoulder. In one hand she is waving a cigarette.
A man off screen asks her a question in Swedish and she says, “I speak English.”
She proceeds to tell them how she met Loki at a bar, thought he was cute and funny and took him home. She doesn’t go into details about what happened between the sheets, just says, “and afterwards, you know he fell asleep a little bit and I looked over and his hair is black and his skin is all blue. I screamed and he woke up. You’re blue, I told him, and he changed back. He put on his clothes and left.”
“Was there anything else unusual about the encounter?” an ADUO agent says offscreen.
The woman smiles. “Jah.”
“Would you elaborate?”
She laughs so hard she doubles over. Lifting her head she licks her lips and grins. “It was amazing.”
Someone in the conference room coughs.
Taking a drag on her cigarette, she blows smoke at the camera. Her top leg starts to swing, and she runs her free hand down her thigh. “I don’t suppose you have his number?”
The video ends.
Jameson’s voice cracks on the conference phone. “And now gentlemen we can discuss our plans to bring Loki into custody.”
“What?” Steve says. “Is that really a good idea? Gerðr may be informative but she’s useless in the field —”
“We’ll only bring him in for questioning,” says Jameson. “Show him who’s boss.”
Steve can hear the smile in his voice; it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Cera’s growing. They’re 11 days away from having to evacuate the Chicago Board of Trade Building—and a very awkward explanation to the public about why such drastic measures are necessary. Meanwhile, Steve’s boss wants to get in a pissing match with the one being who might be able to help them.
Chapter Eleven
When Amy gets home Loki is there, of course. His back is to her; his head is in her refrigerator. Fenrir immediately gives a happy yip and runs in his direction. For a moment Amy just stares. Some women he uses for sex. He uses her for food, and maybe company. And some women he just uses. “You could have at least told me Gerðr’s name!”
Not turning around, he snorts. “Where would have been the game in that?”
She waves her arms. “She got hurt, badly, horribly, because I suggested she leave Steve’s office!”
“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer giantess. I still don’t understand why the locking mechanism on that door frustrated her so much.” He turns around with a pint of milk in his hand.
Amy throws up her hands. She shouldn’t care at this point, but she does. “Frustrated? Frustrated? She bashed her own head in!”
Ignoring her, he takes a swig of her milk right from the carton. He immediately makes a face and spits it out in the sink. Grimacing, he turns to her. “When was the last time you went grocery shopping?”
“Loki—Cera will kill you...it wants destruction, it wants death...” Gerðr told her as much.
Closing one eye, he peers into the carton. “She hasn’t killed me yet, though with her whining...” He makes a tsk, tsk, noise.
Amy’s shoulders fall. “Maybe you’re just stronger than the other giants.”
“Did Gerðr suggest that?” Loki says taking a whiff of the milk and grimacing.
Amy crosses her hands over her chest. “No.” Gerðr said just the opposite.
He smirks at her.
“But Gerðr did say you are supposed to bring about the end of the world in Frost Giant prophecies...just like in our myths, which doesn’t jive with the being unpowerful thing.”
He looks heavenward, and says bitterly. “Oh, Amy, flattery will get you nowhere.”
Swallowing, she brings up something more positive. “And in our myths you’re sometimes described as part of a trinity with Odin and Hoenir, which would make you very powerful, too.”
Loki freezes. For a moment she thinks she sees a tinge of blue in Loki’s skin. Then he shakes himself. “Cera doesn’t want destruction, she wants revolution.”
“Close enough,” mutters Amy.
He raises the milk carton at her and tilts his head. “Exactly. When I figure out how to get her out of your custody, she and I will get along just fine.”
Amy shakes her head. “Cera will destroy you.” Fenrir starts to whimper at her feet.
Loki just snorts.
She clenches her fists in frustration. “Why do you have to make things hard? Is destroying Odin reason enough to destroy yourself?”
For a heartbeat Loki just stares at her. And then the carton of milk goes hurtling past her and crashes against the apartment door with a splash. Amy’s eyes follow it and she gasps.
“Yes!” Loki screams. Amy turns back to him; he is full-on blue.
“This is your urgent matter?” Putting the goblet down, Loki rolls his eyes. “I can’t go troll hunting with you, Thor.”
Smiling, Thor leans across the worn wooden table in the public house. “It will only be for a few nights.”
Loki looks around. The other patrons are eyeing them curiously. They are common people and not so accustomed to see Thor, son of Odin, in their midst.
Thor, in his cunning, probably brought Loki here because the big oaf knows Loki is disenchanted with the court. This is the sort of honest place filled with honest criminals they’ll find themselves in if they go troll hunting.
Loki looks down at some rude runes carved into the table. If rumors rippled like breezes before Aggie’s death, now they are a full blown whirlwind. Baldur declared Loki’s wife should have been named Angrboða, bringer of sorrows, instead of Anganboða, bringer of joy—and of course it stuck. Thor says it’s because Baldur was drunk at the time and it was grief talking.
Loki’s jaw clenches and the dead candle at their table suddenly leaps into flame.
Thor lifts his eyebrow at the candle and turns back to Loki, his smile replaced by a look of concern. “It would be good for you to leave for a while.”
Taking out a knife, Loki begins to scratch at the table. “It’s out of the question. Right now Odin has me trying to arrange a contract with the dwarves to get the south wall repaired—and he’s not authorized me to pay them a reasonable amount...” He brings his knife down with a thwack.
Thor grins. “So did you know there is a story among the humans on Earth about how you managed to get the wall built in the first place?”
Loki stabs the table again and begins to absently carve a rune. “Yes, Thor, I am aware of the story of me turning myself into a mare and getting raped by a giant’s horse —”
“And giving birth to Sleipner!” says Thor, gleefully bringing up Odin’s eight-legged, world-walking steed.
Loki narrows his eyes and makes a silent oath: humans will tell the tale of Thor dressing himself up as a woman to get Mjolnir back. Turning his attention to the tip of his knife he says, “And even if there wasn’t the matter of the wall, I cannot leave Helen.”
Thor shrugs. “But surely Sigyn wouldn’t mind watching her...”
Loki blinks to where he has carved, ‘Baldur will die’. Frowning, he scrapes it away quickly. That is the sort of sentiment that will get him killed. He looks to the window where the sun is just setting. “Speaking of Sigyn, I have taken advantage of her kindness long enough,” he says rising from the table.
Standing beside him, Thor sighs. “Can’t you go? These things are always so much more fun when you’re along...”
Ignoring him, Loki strides out of the public house, leaving Thor to pay. Thor catches up to him, and together they enter the royal grounds and head toward Frigga’s palace, passing Tyr and his wife, Vord, several months along in a pregnancy, on the way. Tyr doesn’t acknowledge Loki—and Loki snorts. The man also barely nods at Thor. Keeping company with Loki isn’t winning Thor any friends in the court, especially after Thor’s outburst at Anganboða’s funeral. But there is little outward hostility toward the hammer wielder. Thor was right, his hammer is more important than Baldur’s beauty.
As Vord and Tyr pass, Thor says in a perplexed voice, “Vord was eyeing you funny, Loki.”
Some months after Aggie’s death he had a brief tryst with Vord. It was stupid. He wants to hurt Baldur but can’t. Hurting Tyr, by sleeping with his wife when he was off hunting wyrms, felt like the next best thing at the time. It was petty and unproductive—the baby in her belly isn’t even Loki’s and she’d hopped right back into her husband’s arms on his return. Loki shrugs noncommittally at Thor’s comment and keeps walking.
They meet Sigyn in Frigga’s hall. Helen is asleep on her lap, and Sigyn is singing to her softly, face aglow with Helen’s blue magic. Fenrir is lying at their feet.
It makes Loki’s chest tighten. Just because he is a father does not mean he has escaped his duties as Odin’s retainer. Finding someone to care for Helen has been difficult. One nurse left her to scream in her bed all day. When Sigyn heard, she offered to help with Helen’s care—and she does it well. Today Sigyn has tied Helen’s hair up into elegant braids. Helen’s face is clean; there is a ghost of a smile on her features.
“Lady Sigyn!” Thor says—it’s a whisper, but nonetheless the sounds seems to reverberate through the room.
Sigyn looks up and smiles at Loki. The whole court thinks they are lovers. They could be, and he even wants her, but does nothing. He doesn’t know precisely why.
“It was my fault that Loki was detained,” says Thor, dropping a fist on Loki’s shoulder and nearly knocking him over. “An urgent matter of troll hunting.”
“Thank you for watching her today,” Loki says, trying to end the topic of trolls. He goes to take Helen from Sigyn’s lap.
Standing, Helen in her arms, Sigyn says, “Don’t. You’ll wake her. I can carry her; she weighs nothing.” She kisses Helen's head and it hits Loki like a physical blow.
Loki nods, and they walk toward the exit of Frigga’s great hall together. Fenrir lopes at their side and Thor falls into step with them, too, going on about trolls again, though Loki and Sigyn both roll their eyes.
They are nearly at the foyer when Fenrir begins to growl. A servant opens the front door and Baldur comes in, Tyr beside him.
Smiling at Thor, Baldur says, "Brother!" Thor nods back. Thor doesn’t smile back, and that is odd. Not that Baldur has given Thor any reason to trust his smiles again, but everyone but Loki forgets Baldur’s cruelties when Baldur turns on the charm.
Baldur’s eyes slide toward Sigyn. His smile widens. "And Lady Sigyn - it has been a while."
"Yes," says Sigyn. She is unsmiling, too. Loki tilts his head.
Stirring in Sigyn's arms, Helen's eyelids flutter.
For a moment Baldur’s smile slips, but then he smiles again and bows. "But trust me, Lady, I have not forgotten you, all your beauty, or any of your charms."
Baldur's none-too-subtle allusion to his conquest of Sigyn makes Loki bristle—and Baldur sees it. He smiles at Loki. It is not a nice smile.
“Baldur, Brother,” says Thor suddenly. “You look ill.”
Sigyn tilts her head. “Your complexion is off...”
Baldur’s smile drops completely. Loki should restrain his smirk, but can’t quite manage it. The crown prince excuses himself and goes to find his mother. Thor thankfully leaves not long after that.
Sigyn is still carrying Helen when they reach Loki’s home. They put Loki’s child to bed and Loki offers her a drink, just to be hospitable. He is pouring blue elvin wine into a glass when Sigyn says, "You know I was showing her runes today—I do believe she understands them."
Loki says nothing, only turns away to pour wine into his own glass.
"I believe when the time comes, we should consider getting her a tutor," Sigyn says.
Smiling a little mirthlessly to himself, he says, "We?"
Sigyn comes up very close behind him. "You know it can be we if you want it to be."
Glass in hand, Loki turns back to her. Sigyn is more traditionally Asgardian than Aggie. Her hair and skin are golden, her eyes are wide and clear blue, her cheeks pink. She's soft, curved like a fine instrument, and her body has beckoned his for a long time.
_preview.jpg)
