He walked briskly in Tyr’s direction.
Reaching him in seconds, the God of Mischief folded himself elegantly onto the barstool next to his brother, resting his arms on the wooden bar. Invisible under the long-sleeved coat, Tyr happened to know those forearms, along with the god’s chest, were decorated with black and gold Asgardian runes.
Knowing Loki, they were also likely tanned from the sun, and adorned with significantly more expensive jewelry than Tyr’s.
“Thank you for meeting me, brother,” Loki said.
Something about the way Loki spoke always verged on dry humor, even sarcasm.
Tyr honestly couldn’t always tell if his brother was being sincere. Rather than attempt to puzzle out the difference, he generally took Loki’s words at face value.
“Of course,” he said politely. “You said you have something for me, brother? Something important you wished to share?”
“Ah. Yes.”
The God of Mischief dug his hand into the long coat he wore, and produced a small, black object with a silver connector.
“It was my wife’s,” Loki explained, placing it carefully down on the counter. “It was the last job she did for that horrible human who was blackmailing her. In Los Angeles.”
Tyr nodded, frowning down at the object on the bar.
It was a human memory stick.
For a computer.
“What is on it?” Tyr said. “Can you tell me?”
Loki frowned, his hand and wrist rotating in a kind of vague shrug.
“She showed me,” he said. “Lia. My wife. On one of her human machines. I didn’t think to bring that device with me… but there were moving pictures.” He made another flurry of gestures. “There was sound. It was a portion of some surveillance she did. In Nepal. Not long after we ran into one another.”
It might have amused Tyr, in other times, that Loki himself was so clueless about the human technology he’d just handed him. Apparently, without his wife present, Loki had no idea how to show Tyr what was on the flash drive himself.
“My wife knows. If you require help––” Loki offered.
“I think I can manage, brother,” Tyr said diplomatically. “But thank you. And thank your wife for me. I will call her, using a human telephone, if I require her help.”
“You have our numbers?” Loki said. “Both of them? Here in Paris?”
“Yes.”
“Ah. Good.” Loki exhaled.
The God of Mischief combed his fingers through his longish, half-auburn hair, and Tyr again marveled at how perfect it looked.
Loki never did anything cheaply if he could pay top dollar.
“My wife was worried,” the other god admitted. “I know you hardly owe me anything, brother, quite the opposite. But she was very worried, and given her condition, I thought of you. She seemed to think this could cause… problems. As in, your kind of problems.”
Tyr nodded, frowning faintly.
“Tell your wife, she has my sincere thanks,” Tyr said politely. “I appreciate you both including me. If you think it an area that might fall under my jurisdiction.”
He paused then, quirking an eyebrow.
“Her condition?” he queried politely. “Then you and she––”
“Yes.” Loki gave him a sideways look.
“Her idea? Or yours?”
“Mine, if you must know,” Loki said, a little loftily. “But she was entirely onboard. So was our little ward.” Loki’s smile grew warmer, filled with obvious pride. “Our Maia is very much looking forward to a little sister or brother to boss around.”
Seeing the heat rise to the other’s eyes, Tyr smiled.
He patted his brother on the shoulder.
“I am very happy for you,” he said sincerely. “It warms me greatly to see you so contented, Loki. More than I can say.”
The other god seemed to relax.
Briefly, Tyr saw past the part of Loki that always seemed to be on guard––always ready to take advantage, to pull some kind of con, ready to evade or do battle, ready to lie or cheat or steal his way out of some difficult situation.
Behind that, Tyr’s brother just seemed––happy.
“I am quite happy,” the god admitted. “And feeling a bit possessive of that happiness, I confess.” Loki gave him a worried look.
“You’ll let me know, yes? If you need any assistance with this thing? My wife understands it far better than I. She used to work for this group, this ‘Syndicate.’ In fact, I arranged to more or less fake her death as far as they are concerned, so that we didn’t have to worry about them bothering us again.”
Sighing, he flicked his fingers towards the memory stick.
“As for what’s on here, and why she wanted me to call you, all I can tell you is, she was doing surveillance at the instruction of her old boss. She only watched the recordings recently, after finding them in her bag… but what she saw concerned her. She tells me she pulled out the part she particularly wishes for you to see, and labeled it somehow inside here…”
Loki tapped the flash drive lightly with one finger, looking at the small piece of metal and circuits as if he was afraid it might explode.
Following Loki’s finger with his eyes, Tyr only nodded.
“I am sure I can find it, brother. Thank you again. And thank Lia for me.”
Loki looked up, his green eyes serious.
“I figure I owe you.” A touch more reluctantly, he added, “…I figure I owe you and Thor. For speaking to father about me. For letting me keep my life here, and not separating me from my wife.”
Tyr smiled, patting his brother’s shoulder warmly.
“I see no debt between us, brother. Therefore, I view this as a gift.” He gripped Loki’s shoulder tighter. “And congratulations, brother. I am thrilled and moved to hear you will be adding to the family soon. Be sure and congratulate Lia for me, as well… and tell her I am very much looking forward to meeting my new niece or nephew.”
Loki nodded.
There was a silence between them.
Somewhere in that silence, Loki seemed to decide their meeting was over.
Sliding off the barstool, the God of Mischief abruptly regained his feet. He stood there awkwardly for a beat, then thumped Tyr briskly on the back.
“Call us,” he urged. “You are always welcome, brother. Thor said something about dinner one of these days, as well. With the wives. You should come, too.”
Standing there a beat longer, Loki added,
“And call Lia if you need help with that… thing…”
Loki motioned vaguely at the flash drive he’d left on the wooden bar.
Tyr hid his smile politely.
“I will. And dinner sounds lovely. I would be most happy to come.”
“Okay. I’ll tell Thor.”
Loki stood there, hands in his pockets.
Then, without another word, the god turned on his heel and walked away.
There was a flash of light when he opened the door to the street, letting in the afternoon sun.
Then Loki, God of Mischief, was gone.
WANT TO READ MORE?
Continue the rest of the novel:
TYR
(Gods on Earth #3)
Link: https://bit.ly/GOE03-eb
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JC Andrijeski is a USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author who urban fantasy, paranormal romance and mysteries, and apocalyptic science fiction, often with a sexy and metaphysical bent.
JC has a background in journalism, history and politics, and has a tendency to traipse around the globe, eat odd foods, and read whatever she can get her hands on. She grew up in the Bay Area of California, but has lived abroad in Europe, Australia and Asia, and from coast to coast in the continental United States.
She currently lives and writes full time in Los Angeles.
Loki Page 17