Loki's Gambit, page 77
part #1 of I Bring the Fire Series
Amy straightens. She feels numb. Voice soft, almost to herself, she says, “So you’re just obeying orders.” As though that would make it right.
“I am doing what I must do to save Valli!” Loki says, free hand fisting at his side.
Amy stares at it. That hand touched her with such tenderness ... he couldn’t be a murderer ... could he? She follows the hand with her eyes as he lifts it to rub his face. For a moment she sees something like shame, but then his face hardens and he says, “Odin has my oath that as long as he does not harm my children, I will obey him.”
Running a hand through his hair, Loki looks down. “Even that wasn’t enough to save Nari.”
Amy feels as though her heart has stopped in her chest. Voice quiet, she says, “How many people have you killed, Loki?” How many lives were worth the life of one?
Raising his head, he says, “You’re not a parent ... You don’t understand.”
“So you would kill however many children of others that it takes to—”
“I don’t kill children!” Loki screams.
Amy stumbles backwards, bumping against the back of the couch, and squeezing a hissing Mr. Squeakers. She hadn’t meant children in the sense of adolescents, she meant it in the larger sense of the word, but the way he interprets it ... she feels the breath rush from her lungs.
“Because Odin hasn’t ordered you to ... ” she whispers.
Loki only glares at her, saying nothing.
What had Loki said? That his oath was to obey—but not unquestioningly. Her mind spins. Loki can obey ... but only up to a point. Odin has to know it. She shakes her head. “That would break you ... he’d lose you then ... and now he’s got you on a tighter leash than he had on you in the cave.”
Loki grinds his jaw. “We aren’t talking about this,” he says.
Swallowing, Amy whispers, “I think we are.”
“No!” shouts Loki, stepping towards her and raising a finger at her chest. “We are talking about the fact that you left when I specifically told you to stay here!” He’s so close she can feel his breath on her face and smell the dried blood—and other things—on his armor. Her stomach rolls but she doesn’t give into it.
Mr. Squeakers gives a ferocious hiss. Loki’s eyes go to her hands, and he takes a step back, but his face twists. “Were you at the library to meet up with that fugitive?”
Amy stares at him a moment, not connecting his words to the meaning.
“Answer me!” Loki shouts, his free hand lifting like he wants to swing at her, but won’t ... or ... Amy gives Mr. Squeakers a little pat behind the ears ... or can’t.
Understanding comes to her suddenly. Fugitive. He means Bohdi. Shaking in fury and fear, she says, “No, I went to the library to re-apply to vet school. I just happened to meet him there.”
Dropping his hand, Loki turns and paces a few steps from her. And then he turns back to her. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he says.
Amy straightens, a weird sort of calm coming over her. She stares at him a moment, trying to take it all in—the man who cares for her, who makes her tea and toast, who wraps her in his arms every night—kills people without conscience? She can’t quite believe it.
If what Bohdi says is true, Loki would have to see humans as lesser beings. Her eyes squeeze shut. But Loki doesn’t think that ... not in her memories ...
Maybe what Bohdi said about Loki killing political prisoners was a mistake. Maybe Loki just saw the prisoners as more Malsons, and deserving of death. That’s still wrong, but understandable from his perspective. Maybe there haven’t really been others ... besides armed combatants, but that is different ... and ... Ron’s words, At least they don’t make us wear Stars of David, come to her mind and she grits her teeth.
Voice soothing, Loki steps towards her. “You won’t do that again, will you?” His frame is silhouetted by the light in the foyer; he moves with unconscious grace. Like a snake.
Amy lets out a careful breath of air. “Which part?” she says, tilting her head and avoiding his gaze. “Leaving the house, applying to vet school, or talking to fugitives?”
Loki’s jaw hardens. “Any of it.”
The vision Amy had of making a life here, with him and the baby, shatters in that instant. She squeezes her fist so hard, her nails bite into her palm. Even if Bohdi is wrong, even if he lied, her life with this Loki is over. Feeling a slightly hysterical laugh building in her chest, she puts her hand to her mouth. She’d been right all along. This life, this universe, this Loki that adores her, they are all too perfect.
Perhaps taking her stifled laugh for a sob, Loki puts an arm around her shoulder, carefully taking the side of her that doesn’t hold Mr. Squeakers. “Haven’t I been good to you?” he whispers, his breath caressing her ear. Ordinarily it would make her skin heat, but now it is like the touch of a stranger on the ‘L’ train. Amy has to struggle to keep from snapping her head away from him. She has to think.
“Haven’t we had fun?” Loki murmurs.
Amy does her best to keep her body from stiffening. Does he actually think she will stay with him?
Apparently not catching on to her unease, he says, “Soon you’ll have a baby to take care of; that will be more than enough for you. Veterinary school is just a silly dream.”
Amy’s lips twist into a half smile. Silly dream. It’s the only thing she’s wanted to be since finding a bag of kittens at the side of the highway as a child. Her mother had chased her out of their trailer because she had a boyfriend over. The kittens had been similarly inconvenient to their owners. Hungry and dehydrated, as soon as she’d opened the bag they’d crawled into her lap and pressed themselves to her, their love and affection instant and uncomplicated. Nursing them back to health had given her confidence and made her feel needed by someone.
No matter how bad things got, how many boyfriends her mother went through—some of them were very nice to Amy, which made their departures that much worse—or how much her mother drank, Amy had the thread of her dream to hold onto. She held onto it when she ran away to live with her grandparents during high school, and held onto it late nights when studying for tests, and during the day working dead end jobs. It’s what kept her sane working as ADUO’s receptionist for half a year.
Dreams striven for are not silly; they give you the strength to reconstruct your reality. Her eyes slide to Loki. And in Amy’s universe, the skills she’d learned from that dream had allowed her to save her Loki from bleeding to death.
Fingers entwined in Amy’s hair, gaze meeting hers, this Loki says, “I want to take care of you. I need to take care of you. You’re very special to me. But you have to promise to behave.”
A bitter taste comes to Amy’s mouth. No rush of memories comes to her, but she just knows that Loki never asked Anganboða or Sigyn to behave. She shivers. “I’m not special to you,” she says.
She had been special to the Loki in her universe, though, hadn’t she? Even if he didn’t love her. A flashback grips her and for a moment she is the Loki in her universe. One of his doubles is standing above Amy’s body lying on the floor of ADUO’s old headquarters, green elven fire rising around her. She feels Loki’s horror as he watches through the double’s eyes from the safety of his apartment, feels his realization that she will die, and hears her own voice in his head, “I don’t want to die alone.” It was a plea, a prayer, and it felt like an anchor pulling Loki down—connecting him to her and to the universe, making him want to do impossible things. Without thinking he’d stepped through the In-Between to her side, and then stepped through the Void once more with her in his arms. He had no Laevithin charged with Cera’s magic to power the trip through the void. They’d both almost died.
But this Loki ... she meets his eyes. He doesn’t hear her in his head. She hasn’t saved his life. She hasn’t driven him to Alfheim ... or saved him from being dragged back to Odin when his presence was discovered there. “The child I’m carrying is special to you. Not me,” she says.
Loki smiles and pulls his head back, pantomiming the movements he’d make if she had slapped him. Leaning forward again, he says lightly, “That’s not true.”
Amy smiles sadly. God of Lies, indeed.
Tugging lightly on her hair, Loki kisses her forehead. “Promise me you’ll be good.”
Amy’s smile drops. Isn’t she always the good girl? And wouldn’t the definition of good entail finding out what the hell is going on in this universe? ”I promise to be good,” she says. She expects Loki to catch the misdirection, but if he does, he doesn’t show it.
Hands tight on her head, Loki leans so close his forehead is nearly against hers. Face soft, he whispers, “Promise me you’ll obey me.”
Amy stares at him, her hands tightening on Mr. Squeakers in her pocket. That is a promise she can’t make.
Softness dropping from his face, Loki tugs her hair sharply. “Promise me.”
Head snapping back, Amy gives a yelp at the pain. Mr. Squeakers starts to hiss. Amy feels a tightening low in her gut and reaches down to cradle her abdomen.
With a gasp Loki steps back, his face livid. His gaze is on her stomach. In her pocket Mr. Squeakers goes silent. Loki’s eyes flick in Squeakers’s direction and narrow, and then they meet hers. They stare at each other a moment. And then his phone plays a very old song. It takes Amy a moment to identify. It’s Reptile by The Church.
A muscle in Loki’s jaw tightens, and then he answers it. “Yes, Skadi?” he says, his gaze still hard on Amy.
Amy huffs at Loki’s former lover’s name—the one who insisted on his prison being bathed in snake venom when he was locked up for 200 years for killing a servant. She blinks, drops her gaze, and a memory comes back to her. No, Loki hadn’t killed the servant—he’d only cursed his cooking—and then the man had a heart attack. And the Aesir locked Loki up for that death, claiming it was due to Loki’s magic. She looks up at Loki. These are the people he’s playing lackey to?
Loki switches the phone to his other ear. “Of course,” he says in Asgardian. “I’ll be there right away. What? The girl. Yes, she’s here. No, of course she doesn’t mind being left alone occasionally.” He pauses, and then says, “Right. I’ll just catch a cab.”
Snapping the phone shut, he looks at Amy.
“You’re going out?” she asks lightly, crossing her arms over her chest.
His gaze is hard on hers, and she knows he knows she’ll try to run away the first chance she gets.
Cocking his head, he gives her a tight-lipped smile. “No, I’m being set up.” Turning from Amy, he goes to the front door. Almost to himself, he mumbles, “Skadi never gives me important orders.” His eyes flick to Amy and he smirks. “I just adore disobeying her.” Brow furrowing, he turns away again. “But Odin didn’t want to give me this order, which probably means that the threat of a new gate is a lie, but Skadi doesn’t know that so I detect no lie ... ” He looks to the door again. “If I obeyed the order, I’d be leaving you alone ... ”
Amy fights the urge to say something eager like, “Go ahead and go, have fun!” Instead, she just manages a soft, “Oh.”
Dropping his head, Loki closes his eyes and Amy feels a buzz low within her. He’s doing some sort of magic.
Loki opens his eyes an instant later and strides towards her. “There are Einherjar in the stairwells on this floor.” Mr. Squeakers stirs in her pocket but doesn’t hiss.
“What?” says Amy.
“My guess is they’re coming for you,” says Loki.
Drawing back, Amy says, “Why?”
Catching her hand, Loki cocks his head. “We’re going to find out.”
“What?” says Amy, free hand sliding around her mouse. Mr. Squeakers doesn’t squirm or hiss, though Loki is very close.
Still holding her hand, Loki steps behind her and pulls her roughly to his chest. In her ear, he whispers, “Perhaps you’ll appreciate me more when I save your life.”
Amy sucks in a breath ... but no air rushes into her, just cold. For a few seconds they’re in the darkness of the In-Between again. When they emerge into light and air and gravity again, Amy’s lungs convulsing, seeking oxygen, they are standing in a huge office with dark paneled walls and a row of small, narrow windows that shimmer with blue light. One of the windows is open and a raven sits on the sill.
Directly in front of the windows is an enormous desk. A second raven is perched on a reading light. Behind the desk sits a man with a white beard and long white hair in a perfectly tailored suit, and next to him leans a spear. One of his eyes is covered by an eye patch.
Gasping for breath as she recovers from the step through the In-Between, Amy feels a shiver run through her.
Holding her tight, his voice a hiss, Loki whispers, “Hello, Odin.”
Chapter Nine
On the desk, one of the ravens raises its wings, bobs its head, and clacks its beak. “It’s her! It’s her,” it squawks.
Standing from his chair, Odin gives a flick of his wrist. Flapping their wings and giving a few angry squawks in Amy’s direction, the ravens rise from their perches and exit the window.
Eye never leaving Loki’s, Odin says, “What is the meaning of this?”
Loki huffs a laugh and his breath tickles Amy’s ear. “That’s my question to you, All Father.” He spits out the last words like a curse, and his fingers dig into Amy’s wrist.
Taking his spear in hand, Odin starts to walk around his desk. Odin’s long white hair and beard are neatly groomed, the eye patch a glittering silver. His movements are smooth, his body trim—he may look older than Loki, and he may be wearing an impeccably tailored suit, but it is obvious that he is a man that is not a stranger to physical activity.
The All Father rounds the corner of the desk and his eye alights on Laevithin at Loki’s side. The sword is glowing with the same blue light as the Board of Trade building.
“You did not tell me about this sword,” Odin says. His voice is calm, almost warm, but Amy feels herself pushing herself back into Loki’s chest.
“I did,” Loki says. “It was in my report. Now tell me what you want with the girl!”
“You left out how powerful it is,” Odin says, cocking an eyebrow and leaning slightly on his spear. Holding out his free hand, he says, “Give it to me.”
Amy hears a whipping sound. One of Loki’s arms is suddenly wrapping tight around her and Laevithin is inches from her neck. Amy gives a short cry of fear.
“Tell me what you want or I kill her!” Loki shouts.
Odin is silent. Loki’s breath is loud in her ear. The only sound Amy hears is her own feet shuffling helplessly on the carpet as she instinctively tries to draw farther away from the blade.
Loki chuckles. “So that’s it. You want her dead.”
Something clicks in Amy’s mind. Mr. Squeakers is quiet. Has he run off? Wanting to find him in her pocket—to know she’s not alone—and simultaneously hoping he’s escaped, Amy carefully slips a trembling hand into her coat. Mr. Squeakers is there. His whiskers are trembling ... but he’s making no move to attack. Amy feels herself start to tremble. She squeezes her eyes shut. She can’t fight Odin and Loki, she has to use her brain ...
Odin lets out a long sigh and Amy opens her eyes.
“I am sorry, Loki,” Odin says, frowning softly. His one blue eye goes to Amy. Odin looks and sounds genuinely sorrowful, but the way he looks her up and down without meeting her eyes makes Amy feel as though he’s looking at a piece of livestock. “She is a pretty thing. It is a waste ... ”
A small huff of dismay, fear, and anger escapes Amy’s lips. Odin talks about her as though she’s an animal he doesn’t want to slaughter ... but will anyway.
Trembling behind her, Loki sucks in a breath with such force he hisses.
Shaking his head, Odin massages his temple and leans against his desk. “World Gates should not be opening, Loki. Something about this girl is upsetting the balance of space-time.” He looks at Loki over Amy’s shoulder. “I am sorry, my friend, but for the sake of the Nine Realms, this girl must die.”
Amy swallows and feels her legs go to jelly beneath her.
“No!” Loki screams with so much force that Amy jumps.
Straightening, Odin says, “It must be done, Loki. Give the girl and the sword to me. I will make sure it is quick and painless.”
Odin takes a step forward. Mr. Squeakers gives a hiss, but it’s muffled by Amy’s coat. Sword near Amy’s throat, Loki draws her back quickly, and Amy gives another little cry.
“No!” Loki says, his voice trembling, his arm holding Amy more tightly. Voice thick, he says, “No, if anyone kills her, it has to be me!”
Amy chokes down her urge to make another sound, or to struggle. Something is going on here she doesn’t understand.
Odin’s forehead creases in a look of concern, and he takes a step forward. In her pocket Mr. Squeakers begins to squirm in Amy’s hand. Her eyes slide downward. Squeakers is upset by Odin ... but not by Loki ...
Loki is lying to Odin. Her eyes go to the All Father. He is not looking at her; his eye is fixed on Loki. Her gaze sweeps past him to his desk. It is as neat and clean as his appearance. He oozes authority and competence. She swallows. She’d definitely rather take her chances with Loki.
“Loki,” Odin says, “I will do anything to make this easier for you. But you know how emotional you are ... are you sure you want it to be you? Perhaps you should—”
“No!” Loki screams. “It has to be me!” His last words come out in a choked sob. Burrowing his face in the crook of Amy’s neck, he says, “I have to make sure she doesn’t suffer ... ”
Cowering against him, Amy gives a whimper that isn’t completely an act.
Odin lets out a long breath. “Very well.”
Loki pulls her tighter to him and lets out a shaky breath. “May I use the sword?” Rocking slightly on his heels, he flicks Laevithin closer to Amy’s neck and makes another choking sound against the side of her head.
Odin sighs. “Of course. But then you must give it to me.”
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