Loki's Gambit, page 69
part #1 of I Bring the Fire Series
In the rearview mirror, Amy briefly sees Steve’s eyes flick to her. “Change of scenery,” Steve says.
Catching Bohdi scowling out of the corner of her eye, Amy turns to Claire and tries to lift the mood. “So you want to be a ballerina?”
Claire’s eyes lose focus, and she slouches. “I’m too tall. I’m never going to be a ballerina.”
Leaning to peer around Amy, Bohdi says, “Maybe you could play the boy’s part?” All traces of anger have left his face, now he wears a sunny smile, but he’s still playing with the lighter in his hand.
Amy raises an eyebrow at the shift in mood.
Steve chuckles. Claire’s mouth opens.
“Didn’t you tell me that you’re stronger than all the boys in your class?” Bohdi says, smile still bright.
Claire beams. “I beat everyone at arm wrestling.”
“That’s my girl,” says Steve, a chuckle in his voice.
They cross Halstead and are approaching a small park when Amy catches Steve’s eyes in the mirror again.
Suddenly, Claire shrieks. “Daddy! Stop the car!”
Steve puts on the brakes and the car slides to a stop in the snow. Before Amy’s even realized what’s happened, Claire’s unfastened her seatbelt and opened the car door. “Claire, no!” Steve cries, but she’s already taken off, long legs pumping furiously and snow flying in her wake.
And then Amy sees what she’s running to.
On top of a low rolling hill, surrounded by children, is a unicorn. Its white coat blurs into the snow around it, but it’s muzzle is running red with blood seeping from its horn. It’s stamping its feet, snorting and keeping its eyes on members of the National Guard and civilians at the bottom of the hill.
“She wasn’t supposed to do that,” Steve says, jumping out of the door.
Not really thinking, Amy follows. She’s vaguely aware of Beatrice and Bohdi following. At the bottom of the hill, Amy hears a woman say, “Please, Jimmie, please come down.” None of the half dozen children respond; they seem unusually quiet, almost mesmerized.
At the unicorn’s side, Claire cries, “Daddy, he’s hurt! Do something!”
“I’ll try, Honey,” Steve says. Claire turns and throws her arms around the unicorn’s neck, burying her head in its mane.
Amy stands transfixed. Even with the blood streaming down the base of its horn, the creature is beautiful. Its muzzle is small, its eyes are wide and a deep cobalt blue. Its coat shimmers, and at this distance, Amy thinks its horn looks like it’s made of mother of pearl. She finds herself unable to breathe.
Another man, dressed in civilian clothes, is by the Guard units. Voice clipped, he is saying, “You need to put the guns down.”
“It tried to attack us. It’s using the children as human shields!” one of the Guard says.
“It wouldn’t have been hurt and standing here if you hadn’t shot at it,” the man shouts.
“It was threatening us!”
Beside Amy, Beatrice draws close and raises the outrageous pink flower print umbrella she’s been carrying since That Day. She must have nicked it from the nursing home. Amy would suggest returning it, but Beatrice is attached to it. Amy took Loki’s book from his apartment even though she knows ADUO would consider it stealing from a crime scene—she doesn’t feel like she has any moral authority on the matter.
“Right now you’re more of a danger to my kids than it is!” the man snaps.
At just that moment, Steve takes a step forward. The unicorn stamps and swings its head; it’s lovely ivory hooves suddenly look sharp and menacing.
Bohdi takes a step forward, too, and gets the same reaction. Turning to Steve he grins. “Looks like I’m not a virgin. I’m kind of relieved.”
Not hearing, or choosing to ignore Bohdi’s clowning, Steve turns and walks back to Amy. In a low voice he says, “Miss Lewis, I know you can help it.”
Amy’s eyes flit to Steve, her wonder turning to a bitter taste in her mouth. “Believe it or not,” she whispers, “I wasn’t watching Star Trek those days after Loki rescued me!”
Steve tilts his head. “I’ve watched the The Last Unicorn. Isn’t it a matter of purity of heart?”
Amy’s eyes narrow, remembering the story. “It’s a matter of belief, Steve!”
“I know you can do this,” he says.
Amy turns to look at the creature. “I don’t even know … ” And then the scene in front of her drops away and she finds herself in a memory—Loki’s memory.
Loki was very small, walking through a field on a bright sunny day, holding hands with Hoenir, plump and bald again. In Hoenir’s other hand is Mimir mounted on a staff. “Don’t worry, Loki, Hoenir can help it.”
Loki’s eyes swung around, and there was a unicorn, much like this one, blood running down its horn.
Loki darted forward, but the creature reared up, hooves flashing. Crestfallen, Loki turned to Mimir. “It doesn’t like me!”
Mimir coughed. “Ahh … yes, well, I’m sure it knows you wouldn’t hurt it on purpose, but you do occasionally set things on fire. They tend to be afraid of anyone they know might cause them harm.”
Amy’s jaw drops as Loki’s memory fades. “I can do this,” she whispers. She takes a step forward. Beside her, Beatrice raises the umbrella higher and the unicorn backs up with a snort. “Grandma, wait,” Amy says, putting her hand on Beatrice’s. “I’ll be okay.”
“You better be!” Beatrice snaps, but she steps back.
Holding up her hands, Amy walks slowly towards the unicorn. “I won’t hurt you. I couldn’t.”
The unicorn lowers its head, and then lifts it again with a soft whinny. In her head she hears Mimir’s voice. “Unicorns are as intelligent as Jotuns, Vanir or Aesir, Loki. They are magical, and understand all the tongues of the Nine Realms, just like us, even if they can’t speak.”
Walking slowly forward, Amy says, “I’m going to put my hand on your horn, I have to see how deep the wound is.”
The unicorn whinnies again.
As Amy steps up to the animal, the unicorn’s eyes follow her, enormous and trusting. It’s breathing hard; a small cloud of steam forms around its nostrils.
“Touching you now,” she says, putting her hands on its forehead just as Hoenir had done in Loki’s memory. The unicorn’s coat is surprisingly soft, like rabbit fur. Its ears are longer and narrower than a horse’s, the hair of its forelock finer and softer. It smells clean, and pure, like snow, not like a wild animal.
Another flash of memory comes to her. “Loki, we can tell that the injury to the unicorn’s horn is superficial. If it was deep, all the unicorn’s magic would be diminished. But see how he understands Hoenir? He is in too much pain to World Walk, but he is still enchanting.”
Amy blinks. The magic matter of the unicorn is within its horn. Looking up, she notices how the horn is listing slightly to the side where the blood is bubbling out, probably pinching the delicate tissues within. Sliding her hand up to the place the blood is emerging, she feels the sharp edge of a break. With one hand, she lifts the horn. It feels lighter than she would expect. An open wound that is about half a finger width wide gapes at her. Pulling her scarf from her neck, she puts pressure on it. As she does, a wave of relief unfurls from her stomach. Other feelings rush through her, too: gratitude, fear, determination, and connection. The empathy she feels is too intense to be imagined. Amy’s not sure if it’s magical, or perhaps a chemical response to pheromones the creature is releasing. It doesn’t matter. For a moment she feels as though she and the unicorn are one being, not a unicorn, or a human, but a consciousness hovering in the space between their frail bodies. It feels like a dream of flying.
Amy’s eyes begin to sting with tears. But for the first time since Loki’s death, they are tears of wonder.
To live in a realm wracked with chaos is to live with pain, anguishing memories, and trolls. But it is also means living with unicorns.
She closes her eyes and smiles.
Feeling the unicorn shift beneath her hands and a rise of anxiety, she snaps from her trance—though euphoria still lingers in her. She feels a warmth like she’s been drinking but without the daze of alcohol. She’s never felt so alert or so awake. Beside her, Claire says, “He wants to leave.”
“Yes, but we have to make him better first,” says Amy.
Feeling a flicker of impatience and fear from her patient, Amy knows she has to act fast. There is a right way to fix this wound, but the second best way will have to do. Turning her head, she catches Steve’s worried gaze at the bottom of the small hill. “I need cornstarch to pack into the wound,” Amy says. “Get me some as fast as you can.”
Eyes flicking briefly to Claire, Steve nods at her.
A few minutes later, he’s managed to get her a box of cornstarch borrowed from one of the park visitors who lives nearby. Amy works as fast as she can, but still, by the time she’s done, it’s starting to get dark.
Beyond the top of the rolling hill the unicorn stands on, there is a sculpture in the little park. It is composed of five rectangular metal archways, each one the height of the house, all tilted at slightly varying angles. As soon as Amy drops her hands, the unicorn turns and walks towards the arches, the children and Amy at its side, the park patrons and Guardsmen behind. The unicorn walks beneath the first two arches, and then, right before the third, breaks so fast into a gallop, the children and Amy are left behind in a heartbeat.
She hears the click of guns and cameras. But before any shots ring out, the unicorn vanishes into a flash of light.
Around her the children cry, and the adults whisper.
Amy stares at the empty space, and the falling snow, sad and ecstatic at once. Beatrice stands to her left. Steve, arm wrapped around Claire, stands to her right. Bohdi is just beyond them.
“Okay,” Amy says at last. “You’ve got me. I want to be in Chicago.”
Turning, Steve says, “You’ll stay.”
For a moment Amy can only think of the unicorn, and almost says yes. Then she remembers painstakingly typing all of Steve’s business card contacts into the computer earlier this morning, and how she’d almost cried with the tedium of it. Not looking at him, Amy smiles. “No way in Hell. I’m going back to Oklahoma to finish my degree.”
“But … ”
Shaking her head, Amy glances over at him. “I am not working as your secretary until that planned program at the University of Chicago gets off the ground.”
Steve opens his mouth, but Amy cuts him off. “And I’m not applying to a school that’s closer either. I might lose credit and put off graduation even more. Forget it.”
Steve doesn’t look precisely happy. His jaw twitches, and his face hardens, but at last he says, “Done.”
They all stand motionless for a few more moments, and then Bohdi starts walking back to the car, the lamps lining the park walkways flickering on in his wake. Without speaking, everyone else does the same. As they do, Amy passes a notice board with a flyer emblazoned with the words “Holiday Festivities at Mary Bartelme Park.” Her eyes widen, and then narrow, remembering Steve’s phone conversation earlier.
Minutes later, Beatrice and Claire are in the car, and Bohdi’s holding the door for Amy. Stopping short and glaring at Steve across the roof of the car she says, “You knew the unicorn was here. You set me up.”
Steve shrugs, but there is a hint of a smile on his lips. “Maybe, but I think you liked it.” He raises an eyebrow. “You sure you want to go back to Oklahoma? Seems kind of boring.”
Amy takes a deep breath. The mist hangs in the air in front of her. She looks at the new fallen snow. In a few hours it will be gray with exhaust fumes, but for now, the city looks fresh and clean and new. It is a brief, and welcome, respite from the grime.
She smiles and shakes her head. “No, that’s alright.”
With another shrug Steve slips into the car. Beside her, holding the door in one hand, and the lighter like a talisman in the other, Bohdi says, “That was amazing. What you did back there.”
She glances up at him. She does recognize in the abstract how attractive he is—in a wide open, innocent kind of way. She is too hollow inside to feel it, though. All she feels is guilt when he looks at her with such earnestness.
Staring down at her feet she has a realization. She has Loki’s book, and his memories. “Pretty sure chaos is going to follow me wherever I go,” she mumbles.
Beside her Bohdi nudges the door. A ghost of a smile is on his lips. Inclining his head towards the car he says, “After you."
IN THE BALANCE
I Bring the Fire Part 3.5
Chaos can never be destroyed ...
Loki, God of Chaos, gave Amy Lewis all his memories, and one request before he saved the universe. “Remember for me.”
Amy knows Loki will find her, one way or another ... eventually. But as the weeks have ticked by she’s lost hope.
Called into FBI headquarters to identify a magical artifact, she gets the opportunity to find Loki for herself. In doing so, she tips the scales of not one, but two universes, and has to choose for herself what form she wants Chaos to take.
The fate of the Nine Realms is in the balance, and this time it is in Amy’s hands.
Chapter One
The lights of the elevator buzz and flicker above Amy. Steve stands beside her. Steve is as tall as Loki is—was—and his head nearly brushes the ceiling. The FBI’s Chicago headquarters are new, but the building is old. The elevator smells musty, shakes as it moves, and it’s hot. Amy is sweltering beneath her thick white down jacket, but the thought of taking it off and hauling it around under her arm is just too exhausting.
“Thanks for coming in,” Steve says.
Yawning into her hand, Amy manages a low “Mmmmm” in response. Her ‘last’ day as Steve’s receptionist was a few weeks ago. She never thought she’d be back here so soon. Her eyes flutter. She’s tired and doesn’t know why. Maybe just stress?
The elevator draws to a stop and Amy’s stomach lurches. Did she eat something that disagrees with her? Or maybe it is the memory of the pictures released by the Tribune this morning. Shutting her eyes, she tries to will away the image of children huddled together, their tiny bodies suffocated beneath debris. Their school collapsed on them during the earthquake Loki caused ... right before he destroyed three blocks of Chicago’s financial district, and froze or incinerated the mayor, ADUO’s Executive Director, and half of the city’s police department. And even if he had been under the influence of Cera, the World Seed, it still—
“Amy?” says Steve.
Swaying slightly on her feet, she opens her eyes. Where the fluorescent light’s harsh glow touches Steve’s dark skin his face appears ashen.
The doors of the elevator are open to a wide room where ADUO agents are setting up desks, cubicles, phones, and computers.
Leaning towards her slightly, Steve says, “Are you alright?” He holds out a hand, as though he might steady her, but then quickly pulls it away.
Shaking her head, Amy steps out. “Yes, I ... ” She doesn’t finish. The eyes of a black-suited agent are on her. Is he glaring at her? She blinks. The agent’s eyes are still pointedly aimed in her direction.
She looks away, her stomach churning as Steve leads her down a narrow lane between the cubicles. What did she expect? Even if Loki did save the world, his moments of madness before the end still caused the death of thousands. Loki was her lover, and Amy’s guilty by association. She smiles ruefully to herself. Lover. What a joke. Loki didn’t love her.
As she walks with Steve down the aisle, her eyes dart to the side. She catches more hostile looks and a few looks of pity. Averting her gaze to the window, she sees the wreckage of LaSalle Street. There are grim-faced construction workers out there between the piles of collapsed buildings and the snow drifts. There are also teams of scientists from all over the world scampering about, looks of awe, wonder, concentration, and joy on their faces. Small Geiger counter-like devices are aglow in their hands, detecting “magical” energy. As yet, no one really knows what “magic” energy is—they just know it’s real and seems to be in Chicago to stay.
A policeman on the street turns and looks in her direction. She’s certain he can’t see her behind the glass, but she feels like he’s looking at her accusingly. She’s heard about what Loki did to the SWAT team that raided his home. There’d been no survivors—
“Amy?” Steve says.
Lifting her eyes, Amy sees they’ve reached the edge of the main office space. Steve is standing between two men guarding an open door. The guards are wearing black suits and crisp white shirts just like Steve is. With square jaws and crewcuts, they might be Steve; the slightly shorter, twenty-year-old Caucasian versions.
Steve clears his throat, his brow constricted slightly. Amy straightens and follows the direction he gestures her in. She finds herself in a windowless conference room filled with only a long conference table. As Steve closes the door, she looks around. The walls, floor, ceiling, and even the door are covered with a dark wire mesh. Promethean Wire. It will seal all magic out of the room.
She sways slightly on her feet again.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Steve says again.
Amy closes her eyes. The policeman’s gaze, the photo of the children, the mayor’s eyes crusted over by ice, fill her mind. “Should I feel alright, Steve?”
Opening her eyes, she finds Steve’s expression flat and unreadable.
“I was—” Amy raises her arm towards the door and gestures vaguely, “—sleeping with the man who was a mass murderer who—” Rubbing her temples, she lets out a long breath.
Steve leans back against a conference table. “You didn’t know it would come to that.”
“I’m an idiot. I should have realized—”
“No,” Steve says, crossing his arms. “You shouldn’t have.”
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