Loki's Gambit, page 43
part #1 of I Bring the Fire Series
However, Loki got to spend some of the time saved on the journey in the Hall himself and to learn some tricks for applying magic to weapons—tricks that didn’t take hundreds of years to learn. He also got to look at some choice elven erotica before he, Thor, Freyja, Brynhildr and the Einherjar left Hoenir and Eir to enjoy a three-month long sojourn in the great Hall.
He stole a book of said erotica, too. He’s carrying it beneath his armor. They are a half day away from the main World Gate—without Hoenir in their party they must use the normal routes. Loki was looking forward to sharing the book tonight with Sigyn.
Loki doesn’t love Sigyn the way he loved Aggie. With Aggie Loki had been idealistic and blind. There is something hard edged about his marriage to Sigyn. Which doesn’t mean he doesn’t like Sigyn, but it’s different. More practical. One of the things he does like about her is that she is curious enough to enjoy things like elven erotica. But the investigation of this attack is going to put those plans on hold. A ball of flame rises in one of his hands. Cursing, Loki waves it away.
From across the cliff comes the sound of pebbles falling. Loki looks up quickly. He sees no one but there is a boulder large enough to hide a hominid. He pulls out a knife he modified with some of the tricks he’d learned in the Hall of Records and aims it at the boulder.
Beside him Thor says, “What are you —”
The knife hits the rock and explodes, shattering the rock into pebbles and revealing a human man who had been hiding behind it. The man takes off along the narrow ledge. Loki pulls out another knife, but Thor grabs his hand. “Wait.”
“We’ve got him!” Brynhildr and Freyja shout, launching themselves into the air and across the chasm. Wide eyed, the human turns, and seeing them, he throws himself from the ledge. Freyja and Brynhildr scream and dive.
Beside Loki one of the Einherjar, the one with dark brown skin and eyes that look almost Asian, says, “Even with their numbers they were not a match for us. Whoever sent them didn’t mean for them to survive.”
Thor grunts in assent as Brynhildr and Freyja rise from the canyon bottom, the broken body of the human in Brynhildr’s arms.
Thor steps forward, Loki and the Einherjar close behind. With wild eyes the human laughs, blood trickling out of his mouth. “We were promised eternal life if we killed the man who carried a second head and the woman among the angels.”
It takes a moment for Loki to comprehend the man he means is Hoenir, and the woman is Eir. Breathing heavily, Loki rushes forward, dry brush around them bursting into flames. Throwing her cool arms around him, Freyja whispers in Loki’s ear. “Easy, Loki, easy!” It is only thanks to her compulsion over men that Loki doesn’t set the human aflame.
“Who promised this?” shouts Thor, ripping the man from Brynhildr’s arms and pressing Mjolnir to the man’s side.
The man’s body convulses and he screams as electricity courses through the hammer.
When Thor pulls Mjolnir away the man laughs. “The god of gods!” And then his eyes grow dim, and foam and blood leak from his mouth.
“Liar,” says the first Einherjar. “Odin made us all swear to protect Hoenir and Eir with our lives.”
“Who would do this?” Loki hisses.
Turning her head, Brynhildr says softly. “A rider approaches from the the direction of the World Gate.” Unfurling her wings, she leaps into the air.
Thor’s eyes meet his. “Why would anyone want to kill the two most powerful healers in Asgard?”
Loki’s stomach sinks as Brynhildr alights beside him. “It is Sigyn. She rides Sleipnir and has your boys with her.”
Loki feels himself go cold. He looks down the cliff walls and sees Sigyn approaching below. Running to a narrow path that leads to the road below he calls out, “Sigyn! Sigyn!” Behind him come Thor’s heavy footfalls.
A few minutes later he is panting at the bottom of the cliff at Sleipnir's side, Sigyn and his boys still astride. Freyja and Brynhildr circle cautiously above them in the sky; and Thor is holding Sleipnir’s bridle. His boys are staring wide eyed at his filthy armor. Sigyn’s golden hair is wild and windswept; fresh tears are making trails through the grime on her cheeks. Pushing Valli into Loki’s arms, Sigyn says, “There is plague in Asgard! Magical plague...They’ve taken her, Loki! They came to our house, Anganboða’s own Hall, and took her!”
Loki’s eyes widen. Magical plague. Such a thing hasn’t occurred in centuries—and is never a natural occurrence. His mouth is dry. He holds Valli like a doll in his arms. “Taken who?” But he knows.
“Our little girl!” Sigyn says, the words spitting out of her mouth. “Take Nari!”
Loki takes his second son as Sigyn gets off the Sleipnir “They’re banishing all the afflicted to Niflheim! Odin sent me here to tell you, and to bring Nari and Valli to safety...We must get Eir and Hoenir...”
Niflheim is cold and barren. Banishment there is the same as death.
“I will get Hoenir and protect your family, Loki,” Thor says. “I swear on my life. Go! Before your daughter is banished!”
Loki is already swinging up onto Sleipnir. He turns the beast back to the east and the World Gate. Before he’s dug in his heels into the horse’s flanks, Sigyn grabs a stirrup. She looks over her shoulder at Thor, walking away with Loki’s boys. And then she beckons for Loki to lean close. “I saw Baldur and Tyr near Helen just before her maids took her home...they all got sick. I was across the field with the boys...Baldur did this, Loki. I know it. Make him pay!”
Loki scowls up at the cliffs, the air shimmers around them, and Sleipnir whinnies. Loki nods tightly. Sometimes he loves Sigyn.
Loki wakens to the sound of Fenrir’s growling, and for a moment thinks he is back on Asgard, approaching Odin’s throne. But he snaps into the present quickly. On instinct born over centuries, he slips invisibly out of his sleeping form. Leaving an illusion of himself on the bed, he crouches behind the low bookshelf that sets the bedroom apart from the front of the apartment.
The doorknob turns and Fenrir takes off in an explosion of yapping. Without bothering to see who is there, Loki vaults over the bookshelf, knocking over some books. He bites back a curse as they fall to the floor with soft thuds. He is still slightly drunk, apparently.
A beam of light flashes through his invisible form, briefly blinding him before landing on the bed where his illusion and Amy sleep. Agent Bryant McDowell stands in the doorway. His hair is slick with rain, his coat is drenched; Fenrir is tearing at the cuffs of his pants. “Miss Lewis?” says the agent looking vaguely confused. “Is everything alright?”
He carries a heavy duty black electric torch in one hand, a Glock upraised in the other—both pointed at Loki’s sleeping form on the bed...the form that is immaterial, that will not shield Amy from the bullet when it comes. Baldur’s words come to his mind, “You destroy everything beautiful, Loki...”
Loki feels his skin heat. Not this time. His lips curl up in a snarl and he closes the distance between himself and the agent as silently as a snake. In one fluid movement he wraps an invisible hand around Bryant’s wrist and aims it at the ceiling, popping the flat of his palm into the man’s elbow at the same time. The bone breaks with a satisfying crack and Bryant screams. There is the sound of fast footfalls from outside, and the voice of his brother. Vision still dancing with the afterspots of the torchlight, Loki shakes his head and casts a hand toward the approaching figure, shrouding Brett’s face in light to blind him.
“Bryant? Bryant? Are you there? I can’t see you!” Brett says, voice panicked. “Is the girl okay?”
Loki blinks at that. Something in this scenario is off...
“I’m here,” Bryant says, cradling his arm. Spinning in Amy’s doorway, he says in the direction opposite Loki. “Show yourself, you fucking coward!”
In the bed Amy stirs at last. She sits up in bed. “Bryant?”
“Is fine,” says Loki from a point near Bryant’s elbow.
“What the —” But Loki has already shoved him out the open door into the rain.
“Go back to sleep, Amy!” Loki says cheerily. She falls back into bed and he steps out into the cold night, casting the same light around Bryant’s eyes that surrounds his brother.
“Ahhhh!” Bryant screams.
“Do yourself a favor, close your damnable eyes or you may find yourself blinded permanently!” Loki hisses.
Brett raises his gun in Loki’s direction even though he’s blind. Loki steps around, touches the Glock and it goes hot. Brett drops it with a curse.
Blind, and with a broken arm, Bryant rushes in the direction of the sound of the dropped gun, but Loki easily steps aside, holds out a foot and pushes Bryant to the ground.
Snapping the still-blind Brett roughly against the wall, Loki pins his arm against his back. “You came to arrest me—when the girl was unconscious and helpless and you wave a gun around without once announcing yourselves!” Trembling, he shoves Brett harder against the wall. “Why shouldn’t I kill you?” If Brett and Bryant weren’t soaked through, they would probably be in flames.
“We’re not here to arrest you!” Bryant hisses from the ground. He is sitting, cradling his arm, but otherwise making no effort to move.
Face pressed against the wall, light dancing in front of his eyes, Brett says, “We were worried about the girl!”
The words crash into Loki like a bucket of cool water. They are telling the truth.
Loki’s grip on Brett slackens, almost against his volition, his state of semi-inebriation affecting his control. “But why now? I’ve been calling on her for weeks...”
“She’s never been passed out drunk before,” Bryant says through gritted teeth.
“And Gerðr has told us about Asgardian morality,” Brett snarls.
Oh. Loki rolls his eyes. “Yes, I suppose some men would find Amy being unconscious a convenient accident.”
“Here we’d call it rape,” Bryant hisses.
Loki goes hot with the mortal’s insinuation. “I don’t need to get a woman passed out drunk to spread her legs. I’m not Odin!”
Letting Brett go, he steps over Bryant’s legs—and almost trips in the process. He snorts at his own clumsiness. “And besides, sex with an unconscious woman would be so...so...boring.”
Suddenly in a forgiving mood, he drops the blinding lights hovering around their eyes.
Above them the lights of Amy’s neighbors come on. A man, the fiancé of Jan, Amy’s sometime dog sitter, comes out, a broomstick in his hand like a baseball bat.
Loki makes himself visible—and gives himself and Brett and Bryant the guise of police officers. Smiling upward he says, “No need to call the police, we’re already here!”
“Did someone break in?” the neighbor says.
“Tried to but, we scared him off!” says Loki with a wave.
“Uh...okay...” says the man. “You having a Halloween Party at the precinct?”
Loki leans on a leg and stares upward, his mouth open, unsure of what to make of that question.
“Yes,” says Brett quickly as he helps his brother get up.
“Go back inside,” says Bryant, grimacing in pain. “We’ll handle this and give you the rundown when we’re done.”
“This is my building!” the man says.
“Don’t want to disturb any evidence,” says Brett quickly.
Loki raises an eyebrow. They must really want to keep his presence here under wraps.
“Okay,” says the neighbor uncertainly, but he goes back inside.
Loki sees lights along the block come on and hears doors and windows opening. Feeling safe enough in the police officer uniform, he turns back to Brett and Bryant and says, “No, the only thing worse than an unconscious partner is a partner who fakes her orgasms.” Shuddering involuntarily, Loki says, “It’s like the sound of cockatrice nails on steel. Can’t stand it.” He shudders again. “The worse sort of lie and I hate being lied to.”
“You’re...drunk...” Bryant says, eyes widening.
Loki shrugs. “What makes you think so?”
“Besides the monologue?” says Brett.
“You’re blue,” says Bryant.
Backing up, Loki looks down at his hands. They are still blue. “Basilisk dung,” Loki whispers.
He looks longingly toward Amy’s door. Her bed is warm and soft, but the two agents are still glaring at him suspiciously. He can’t try his luck. Turning, he’s about to leave when a thought occurs to him. Skin going hot, he says, “If you thought Miss Lewis was in such danger, why did it take you so long to come to her rescue?”
Brett and Bryant glance at each other, looking slightly abashed.
Loki sneers at them. “You both deserve broken arms,” but he doesn’t feel like administering that justice just now. Shaking his head, he wills the blue to vanish from his skin. He starts to walk away, but Brett calls out, “Steve said you wouldn’t hurt her.”
Loki turns back to him. Brett stands, arm locked with his brother’s, gaze locked on Loki.
“We were defying his orders when we came in,” Brett says.
“We had a bit of an argument first,” says Bryant.
Loki lifts an eyebrow, suddenly feeling something like affection—toward Steve for understanding, or the two small scrappy mortals who would risk their careers defying orders, he can’t tell. Either way, he blames the sentiment on the alcohol.
He’s suddenly very hungry. And he’d like another drink.
Without looking back, he walks down the street toward a familiar watering hole on Taylor Street, not worried if he is being followed.
The establishment is nearly empty and just about to close when he arrives. Wet from his short trip in the rain, he slides up to the bar and orders the usual. Turning around he surveys his surroundings. A curvy brunette he’s noticed several times before catches his eye from a booth and smiles.
His eyebrows go up. Taking that as an invitation, she walks across the floor in his direction. She’s wearing a burgundy wrap dress with a deep v-neck that does nothing to hide her very generous breasts. Despite the hardness around her eyes, she has a tiny perky nose, and perfectly shaped bow lips that give her a young appearance. She’s just his type. He smirks. How interesting.
Steve is in his new, non-magically sealed office—he stopped watching the clock around 2 a.m.. Rain from the freak storm has moved into Chicago. It has been beating on his window for hours now. Sometimes it lessens to a drizzle, but it doesn’t let up.
Leaning back in his chair, he crosses his hands over his stomach. He is glaring up at Brett and Bryant. They’re wet and shivering, Bryant’s arm is in a cast. They both look abashed, and very nervous. Good.
“We depend on Loki’s trust right now and you’ve gone a long way to destroying that trust,” Steve says, his tone clipped. He rocks back in his chair and says nothing for a few minutes, just letting them squirm.
Bryant coughs. Brett clears his throat.
Glaring at them Steve says, “There’s no ‘I’ in the word ‘team,’ Gentlemen.” It’s a cliche, but effective.
Both men shuffle their feet.
From the front of the office comes the sound of voices. Steve sits up in his chair. Director Jameson strolls in Steve’s door like he owns the place, two men in black he’s brought up from DC right behind him. Smiling down at Steve, Jameson bobs his head. “I did it, Agent Rogers.”
Steve’s breath comes out of him in a rush, and his jaw drops. Outside the office, he hears other agents who are part of Jameson’s D.C. posse shouting. “Guantanamo has been notified! They’re prepping the room. They’ll be ready for us.”
Steve half stands from his chair.
Outside in the hallway someone else shouts, “The plane with the Promethean containment cell is on its way!”
“What?” Steve says, turning to Jameson.
Jameson’s smile turns to a self-satisfied look and he tilts his head. “I’ve just caught Loki—and I’m going to keep him. And get some real answers.”
CHAOS
I Bring the Fire Part III
The noose around Loki’s neck is tightening. In this final installment of the Cera story arc, Gerðr, the frost giantess, wants him dead; Cera, the World Seed, wants his head—literally and figuratively; the FBI wants him in Guantanamo; and an old friend from Asgard wants to bring him home...whether Loki likes it or not.
Things can’t get any worse, but when Loki’s involved, it’s certain they will. In the third chapter of I Bring the Fire, humanity’s demons are unleashed on the Nine Realms and Amy Lewis and Steve Rogers get front row seats.
Chaos might be their only hope.
Chapter One
The smell of rain, alcohol, wet hair and clothing permeates the nearly empty bar. It’s past closing time, on a cold and wet Monday night. Usually the bar is bathed in a soft yellow glow, but they’ve turned up the lights to remind the few patrons left it’s time to leave. Loki is sitting at the bar proper, a plate of nearly decimated french fries and a burger in front of him. A very attractive, very interesting brunette that is just his type is sauntering across the room in his direction.
Giving her a calculated smile, Loki holds up his empty beer mug in the barkeep’s direction. “May I have another?” Loki is distressingly close to sober and beginning to feel the chill of his wet clothing.
Raising an eyebrow as he dries a glass, the bartender says, “Last call was 10 minutes ago.”
The lights flicker. Loki restrains a shiver and an urge to set something on fire. He can’t help but think of Amy’s warm bed—he’d still be there if Brett and Bryant hadn’t interrupted his doze. The brothers’ honorable intentions aside, Bryant deserved the broken arm he got in the resulting altercation. To think that Loki would have to stoop to taking advantage of a woman while she is unconscious. It’s insulting!
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