Loki's Gambit, page 74
part #1 of I Bring the Fire Series
Loki rolls his eyes and starts walking into the living room, Amy at his heels. “Well, there was the North Korea problem we had to solve, and the situation with Beijing, and Odin is not at all pleased with the Mujahideen’s attitude towards us ... ” He waves a hand and shrugs. “But I try not to get distracted by the details. I hate politics.” His jaw hardens. “If Sigyn hadn’t convinced our sons to become involved with politics, Nari would never have been murdered.”
Amy straightens. “Sigyn ... where is she?”
Loki rubs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know and I don’t care.” He stops and turns, chin tilted, eyes narrowed, he says, “Didn’t you just hear me? She got Nari killed.”
Amy draws back. “You love Sigyn,” she says, images of Sigyn filling her mind. Sigyn had been Loki’s lover and confidante, his caretaker in the cave, mother of Nari and Valli, adoptive mother of Helen. Amy sees Sigyn, eyes flashing, shouting at Loki, sees Loki shouting right back—and feels Loki’s admiration for her strength in the memory. She also sees Sigyn, sword upraised, training with the Valkyries after the boys had grown. Loki had been standing at the sidelines, grinning with pride and lust, mulling happily over how her martial skills could be utilized in other pursuits ...
Amy gasps and looks away.
“Maybe in your universe,” Loki says, the bitterness in his voice sharp enough to make the hairs on the back of Amy’s neck rise.
He steps closer to Amy. “Why are we talking about my ex-wife?” he says, voice suddenly gentle. Putting a hand on either side of her face, he smiles. “I’m just glad you’re nothing like her.”
Amy looks down, something uncomfortable twisting in her gut.
Kissing her forehead, Loki says, “I need to write a report for Odin on your appearance. Would you like to watch TV? Read? Do you need to sleep?”
Amy feels exhausted, but it occurs to her television might offer her a window to the universe she’s found herself in, so she opts for the TV.
Loki sets her up with tea and toast, and then trundles off to type up his report while Amy curls up on the couch and channel surfs. Mr. Squeakers glides down from the ceiling on a line of silk to watch upside down beside her. The local news is all car crashes and the story of firemen rescuing a kitten. The national and international news isn’t much more informative. Republicans still want lower taxes. Democrats still want more money for health care. Nothing is said about North Korea, Mujahideen, or Beijing. The only things really different are the commercials. One for a new casino that’s opened up in Indiana makes Amy’s eyes bulge. It features a grinning man in Viking gear tossing gold coins in the air. The voice over proclaims, “You don’t have to be an Einherjar to come to Valhalla Casino!” It’s obvious that words like “Einherjar” and “Valhalla” have entered the common lexicon ... but there’s nothing sinister about that. As she closes her eyes, just for a moment, she wonders why she keeps expecting something to be sinister here.
She’s not sure when she wakes up. The channel she is watching is playing reruns from the 1980s. It’s still dark outside. Stiff from her position on the couch, Amy decides to relocate to the bedroom.
As she turns off the TV and stands up, Mr. Squeakers settles on her shoulder. Blearily making her way down the hallway, she notices a door open to what is presumably the office.
Without thinking, she walks in. Loki’s back is to her, his eyes focused on two browser windows on his screen. In one is a picture of Amy, her head turned, bruised eyes closed, blood at her temples and leaking from her mouth. In the other side is mugshot of her would-be killer from her universe, Ed Malson.
A strangled sound comes from her mouth and the screen goes black. Loki is instantly up and out of his seat coming towards her. A moment later his arms are around her. “You shouldn’t have seen that, Little One,” he says, pressing her head to his shoulder.
Amy swallows. “I died in this universe ... didn’t I?”
Rubbing her back, Loki whispers, “Yes.”
Pressing her eyes to his shoulder, Amy cries, “But how did he get me?”
In her universe Malson almost got her when she was run off the road. She had been momentarily distracted by a short burst of flame Loki had caused, and she nearly ran into a deer. In this universe there wouldn’t have been a flare so how ...
Squeezing her tight, Loki says, “You encountered him at a gas station just past the Illinois border. You fought him, and he became so enraged he shot you. The shots drew the attention of some lorry drivers, and he was apprehended, his crimes discovered. He is now in a maximum security prison.”
In Loki’s arms, Amy quakes. “Don’t worry,” Loki whispers. “I will never let that monster hurt you.”
Amy sucks in a breath. “What about my grandmother, Beatrice?”
Loki sighs and squeezes her tight. “I’m sorry. She had a stroke soon after your ... accident ... she died instantly.”
Nodding into his shoulder, Amy just lets him hold her for a while. When he directs her back to the bedroom, she doesn’t protest.
She wakes up in the middle of the night, a scream in her throat and a dream of Malson’s knee in her back, and his gun at her head. Loki is right there beside her, ready to comfort her.
It’s easy to forget the discomfort she’d felt when he’d talked about Sigyn.
At first light she wakes up alone. Amy experiences a moment of panic and a bout of nausea she barely restrains. She stares up at the ceiling, a horrific thought overtaking her. She is alone in an unfamiliar universe. She has no identification and no money. She’s trapped.
A timid squeak sounds from the nightstand. Lifting her head, Amy sees Mr. Squeakers sitting there, a cup of tea and some saltines beside him. There is also a folded piece of paper.
Swallowing her unease, Amy gives the spidermouse a quick scratch and then picks up the note. She recognizes Loki’s oddly neat script immediately.
Amy,
I have a bit of administrative work to attend to this morning, something I wrangled Odin’s approval for. The internets say saltines are the food of choice for women in your condition.
Make yourself at home,
Loki
Amy stares at the note for a moment then folds it back and quickly drinks the tea and gobbles down the saltines. Her nausea abates, but she feels a rising tide of panic take its place. Loki’s home is immense, palatial even, but she’s beginning to feel claustrophobic. It occurs to her that a home is not a home unless you can leave.
Still in the dress from the night before, she picks up Mr. Squeakers and goes to stand by the front door. She’s suddenly overtaken by the fear that it might be locked. A shaky breath courses out her lungs as she approaches the doorknob.
Swallowing, she takes it in her hand. Closing her eyes, she tries to turn it.
It gives without even a click, and she releases a breath. And then she pulls. The door doesn’t budge.
She yanks the door backwards with all her might, an angry cry on her lips, but it doesn’t move. Reaching up, she bangs on the heavy wood with her fists. Of course nothing happens, no one comes to see what the noise is. Amy slides to her knees and stares up at the doorknob.
And then she sees the sliding bolt lock.
She bites her lip. Feeling foolish, she smoothes her dress and stands up. Narrowing her eyes, still expecting some trick, she gingerly reaches for the bolt. It slides to the side easily. When she tries the door again, it opens without even a squeak.
She stares at the dimly-lit hallway beyond for a moment. And then, releasing the knob, she lets the door fall closed. A rush of air and a pop of her ears make her turn.
Loki is standing in the foyer, Laevithin in his hand.
Tilting his head, brow furrowed, he says, “Amy? What are you doing?”
Her mouth falls open. How do you say ‘I thought you were holding me prisoner’ nicely? Swallowing, she stammers the least offensive truth she can manage. “You said you were gone but the sliding bolt lock was shut and you can’t go out with it locked so I ... ” She takes a breath. “Was confused.”
“Oh,” says Loki. He holds up the sword. For just the briefest moment, Amy thinks the blade is stained and brown and thinks she smells something metallic. Loki’s lips purse, and Laevithin glows in the dim light of morning, its blade pristine.
Still holding up the blade between them, he says in a slightly wonderstruck voice, “I used Laevithin to walk the In-Between. Much more convenient than a cab. As for the sliding bolt lock ... ” He winces and lowers the sword. “It won’t keep Thor from knocking the door in, but it will slow him down enough to give you warning.”
“Ah ... ” says Amy. Something nags at her. Trying to pry without sounding like she’s prying, she says, “You had an administrative errand?” From the light, she wouldn’t guess it’s later than 6 a.m.
Fishing in his pocket, he pulls out a small card. “Here,” he says with triumphant grin. “A gift.”
Taking it from him, her brows rise. It’s an Illinois driver’s license. It has the same photo that used to be on her old license; for a moment that startles her but then she realizes it still might have been in the system. What must be Loki’s address is printed on it beneath her name. And ... she pulls the license closer to inspect the words. “Universal Health Care ID ... .?” she says in disbelief. There is a number following the words.
“Ah, yes, some of the newer treatments aren’t covered, but it does have maternity.” His face gets serious. “Occasionally, I won’t be able to be here and you might not be able to get hold of Miskunn in time. It seemed best to be prepared.”
“Universal Health Care?” Amy says, still staring at the card.
Loki chuckles. “Yes, some sort of single-payer deal Odin helped broker between your squabbling politicians.”
She’d just thought he’d been holding her prisoner, off on some nefarious errand.
“Thank you,” she says.
Loki waggles his eyebrows and looks pleased as punch.
A little overwhelmed, Amy sniffs. “I think I might hug you now.”
Smile dropping, Loki takes a step back. “I’m holding a weapon that can cut a tomato and a human in half with equal ease. Let me put it away.” Rolling his shoulders, he sniffs. “Also, I could use a shower.” Turning on his heels, he heads towards the bathroom.
Amy looks down in amazement at her ID. “The DMV is open this early in the morning?”
Without looking back, Loki laughs. “This is the Aesir’s primary outpost on Earth. Odin likes for it to be efficient.”
Staring at the card, Amy just shakes her head. A DMV open before 6 a.m., single-payer health care—in the U.S.!—and nuclear waste removal? She’s not sure exactly what Odin’s involvement on Earth is, but maybe it’s for the best.
Chapter Six
Amy awakes to the slant of afternoon light coming through the blinds and a queasy stomach. There is also a heavy thigh over her hips pinning her to the bed. Pushing the thigh away, she sits up.
Rolling over, she eyes the nightstand. There is a plate of saltines, a cup of Miskunn’s tea, and Mr. Squeakers sitting there. Mr. Squeakers looks forlorn. She thinks he misses Fenrir. The mouse and her dog used to sleep together back home.
Willing her stomach to stay still, Amy sits up and pats Mr. Squeakers on the head. He rubs his little ears against her fingers vigorously, and Amy’s heart sinks for the little guy. Fenrir used to kiss his ears. She sighs. Amy misses Fenrir too, but at least she knows Fenrir is safe with Beatrice. Several people have suggested Amy enter Fenrir in the Ugliest Dog Competition. Between Fenrir’s looks and aggressive misandry, the little dog is an animal only family could love.
Her stomach gives a lurch. Sitting up, she grabs a saltine with one hand and the cup of cold tea with the other. As she nibbles, she looks to the window and the column of blue light in the distance, just visible through the blinds. It’s beautiful.
Once Beatrice had told her that what every parent wanted was a better life for their children. In this world humans and Aesir are working together to solve their problems. In the grand scheme, it’s marvelous, and in the slightly less grand scheme…
Amy’s eyes rove around the bedroom. The moldings and fixtures are as ornate as anywhere else in the apartment. There is a master bath more impressive than the ‘guest bathroom’ off to one side, and a walk-in closet. The bed is king-sized, the duvet is warm and luxurious, the linens smoother than anything she’s ever felt beneath her skin.
... It’s so far from what she had when she was growing up. She’d lived in so many places with her mother, sometimes in trailers, but most often in cheap apartment complexes with paper-thin walls. She finishes off her last cracker and idly brings her hand to her barely perceptible bump.
Beside her a lazy hand snakes out from the blankets and begins to make its way up her side.
“Feeling better,” Loki says, a smile in his voice, his hand on her light and teasing.
“Mmmmm ... .” she says, turning to him and raising an eyebrow.
He’s grinning now, his ginger hair charmingly ruffled, his chin dark with stubble. “You should lie back down again until you feel completely well,” he says.
Amy knows where this is going, but she doesn’t fight it. The bed is warm. So is he ... so is she. She slips down into the covers.
Loki shifts beside her, trapping her legs beneath one of his own. “There now, rest,” he says, laughter in his voice. His fingers are dancing over her skin, assuring that she won’t get any rest at all. He kisses the skin behind her ear and presses against her hip, making her back arch.
Every morning, well afternoon, is like this. She tries to get out of bed, and he distracts her. He distracts her a lot, even when they’re not in bed. It was the same pattern she’d fallen into with him at the end in her own universe. A few days ago, in a haze of post-coital bliss, she’d asked him, “Is it always like this?” She’d waved a hand vaguely in the air. “All the time ... with ... ”
She hadn’t finished. He’d laughed and said, “Sex all the time?” Nibbling on her ear, he’d said, “With a fetching new partner? Of course.”
Her brow had furrowed. She’d been going to say, ‘with you.’ Amy’s other relationships hadn’t been like this. Seeing her face fall, Loki had rubbed her stomach, and said, “Don’t worry, no matter what happens between us after ... ” He’d paused. Amy had felt a tingling low inside her. Amy had noticed he was cautious talking about the baby’s future, as though talking about it would jinx it. “I won’t abandon either of you,” he’d finished, his face very serious.
And what more could she ask of a man she’d just met when she was carrying a baby that is his, but isn’t? She told herself what they had was enough.
Moments like this, when he’s smiling at her, his fingers skimming nowhere naughty—somehow even more arousing than just making a beeline for the naughty places—well, it still feels like enough.
Eyes slightly hooded, he leans in to put a chaste kiss on her forehead and brings his hand to cover hers where she is cradling her stomach. No matter what she has with Loki, she also has his memories. He isn’t lying—he will never abandon her child—he never abandons any of his children. And that means more to her than the luxury around her. Her own father had left when she was very young.
Loki gives her hand a squeeze. And then, leaning forward, he places a decidedly not-chaste kiss on the side of her neck just inches below her ear.
Amy closes her eyes. Resistance is futile. Still, she musters up the will to tease him. “I thought we were going to the Field Museum this afternoon?” They haven’t been holed up in his apartment the whole time. Miskunn had declared light exercise good for Amy, and they go out everyday. Today at the Field there is an exhibit of Svartálfaheimr gems she really wants to see.
Huffing a soft laugh, Loki begins trailing kisses from her forehead down the bridge of her nose. “We’ll have time,” he says and she smiles.
From somewhere beyond the bed, Loki’s phone starts playing the Darth Vader theme. The trail of kisses down her face abruptly stops. Loki falls back onto the bed with a very unmanly whine. Smirking, Amy rolls over onto her side and traces a hand up his thigh.
“You going to get that?” she says, raising an eyebrow. He never ignores the Darth Vader theme.
Loki lifts his head, looks at the trajectory of her hand, looks at the phone, and looks at her hand again. “You sweet, terrible, wonderful girl.”
The Vader theme gets louder.
Closing his eyes with another whine, Loki grits his teeth as though summoning all his willpower. Rolling off the bed, he lands on the floor with a thunk.
Amy laughs and leans over the edge. Loki snaps the phone open and puts a hand over his eyes. “This had better not be about the unicorns in Grant Park. If you can’t tell me where the gate is, I can’t close it ... ”
Amy props her chin on her hand. Odin and Loki’s Cera-as-magical-power-plant-solution is supposed to be taking care of the extra-magic-world-gate-sprouting situation that exists in Amy’s universe. She picks at the bedspread. Loki’s had to close a lot of gates since she’s come here, though. His tone is light, unworried; but Amy’s concerned.
On the floor Loki snickers. “And you know no unicorn will let me close enough to kill it.” Loki lifts his hand from his eyes and blows her a kiss. “Although, the one I have here is sweet enough I think she might be able to subdue unicorns for us ... ”
“Not if you’re going to kill them!” Amy says.
“See,” says Loki, still smiling, but attention back on the phone. “So sweet. Who needs Hoenir?”
Above him, Amy’s brow furrows. Loki and Odin don’t know where Hoenir is in this universe. Loki won’t talk much about it. All he’ll say is that Hoenir tolerated Nari, Valli, and Sigyn’s political aspirations and then changes the subject.
Loki scowls. “Afghanistan again? Can’t it wait?” He looks at Amy and grins. “I was just getting busy here.”
Amy can hear the muffled sounds of sharp words on the other end of the line, and then Loki snaps, “The oath is to obey you, not to obey unquestioningly!”
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