by C. Gockel
Swinging her keys in one hand, Amy says, “Probably because she’s working on secret government stuff, and the U.S. government has a longer history with the University of Chicago?”
Bohdi feels the peculiar sort of elation he does when he remembers something. “The Manhattan Project!” The development of the first nuclear bomb; some of it happened at the University of Chicago.
“Yep,” says Amy. She looks over at him. “How was your nap?”
“Good,” Bohdi says.
After they left Katherine’s lab they’d gone to work where Amy had checked on the baku kits, and then back to Amy’s and Beatrice’s place to check on Fenrir. Amy had said she needed James’ lab without students or post docs in it, so it was better to wait until evening anyway. Bohdi had passed out on Beatrice’s couch. The couch had been comfortable, and the house had smelled like the cheese blintzes Beatrice had cheerfully whipped up for Amy, and more grudgingly, for him. He scowls and rubs the back of his neck. “But waking up to your grandmother standing over me with her umbrella in one hand and a broom in the other was even more frightening than waking up to flying zombies.” He shudders, remembering the adze on Nornheim.
Amy winces. “Yeah, sorry about that. She is a little over-protective.”
Bohdi’s lips purse at the understatement. Even though Bohdi had promised to stick with Amy—and not to take her to any foreign realms—it had taken Amy half an hour to convince Beatrice that her grandmother would be most helpful looking after Fenrir. The two women seemed to take it as a foregone conclusion that Bohdi wouldn’t be the ideal candidate for dog care.
Bohdi is relieved; he’d probably accidentally kill the little dog. He’s also sad. His head droops thinking of the little dog back at Amy’s place, Mr. Squeakers snuggled up beside her. Bohdi has always liked Fenrir, She is probably the ugliest dog he’s ever seen, furry in some places, bare in others, tailless, and with a ratlike snout. Still Fenrir likes him, and that counts for a lot. She was barely eating when they left. She wasn’t crying, but her ears didn’t perk up when Bohdi said hello ... And she wore little dog diapers, because it hurt too much for her to move. Bohdi didn’t know they had those for dogs. Earlier this morning, Bohdi had felt a brief surge of elation after stealing the protein samples … but Fenrir’s condition made him think of Steve and all that he was going through that Bohdi couldn’t see: the pain, humiliation, and everything Steve would be too proud to complain about. It makes him sick to his stomach, and frankly, a little weepy.
Slipping his hands into his pocket he wraps his hand around the test tubes. “Do we have to be here? Can’t we just inject this stuff into Steve’s arm and—”
“No,” Amy shakes her head. “It has to cross the blood brain barrier and needs the virus as a carrier to do that.”
Bohdi drops his eyes to the pavement and tries to relax. This will work, no matter what Amy says—because it has to.
He’s vaguely aware of a guy’s voice saying, “Nice car.” There is the sound of car brakes, and then a door slams, and another guy says, “Nice driver.”
The tone of that statement makes Bohdi’s head pop up like a dog that’s seen a squirrel. Internally, he scolds himself at the predictability of it … and then he sees who the guy was referring to. Stepping around a fire red Aston Martin coupe is a woman with long legs, caramel skin, and wavy black hair. Her face is perfectly made up. She’s wearing a fitted hot pink coat over a black pencil skirt, and very high, high heels. Even if he didn’t know her, she’d have his attention.
His skin heats. And not in the predictable manner. His hand leaves the test tubes and goes to his knife. Internally he curses Beatrice. She’d been so worried about Amy coming to the university at night but she hadn’t let Bohdi borrow her gun. Something about Bohdi being “too unstable.”
“Bohdi?” Amy says.
Up ahead, the woman smiles in his direction. The edges of Bohdi’s vision goes red.
“It’s Freida,” he says, pulling the knife out of his pocket, but keeping it closed in his palm.
“That Freida?” Amy says.
It is that Freida, the woman who had been Steve’s ideal woman, before he had been called away for a “Claire emergency” and Bohdi had slept with her. The woman who Bohdi is almost positive is Freyja in disguise. He doesn’t answer. He just quickens his steps.
“Don’t make a scene,” Amy says. “If she is who we think she is, you can’t fight her …”
“Oh, yes, I can.” He is the Destroyer. And for the first time, he wants to be.
“Even Loki couldn’t take her in a fight,” says Amy, grabbing his arm.
Bohdi stops and shakes her hand away, glaring down at her. The sound of high heels on the pavement makes his head whip around.
“Bohdi!” says the woman he’s almost sure is Freyja. She’s less than five feet away. In heels she’s taller than he is. He’s forced to look up at her. She smiles—it’s wide, open, and looks genuine.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees passing med students of both genders gape and turn their eyes to her. She is undeniably beautiful, even if not precisely Bohdi’s type.
… if she was, he still wouldn’t care.
The so-called Goddess of Love and Beauty’s name comes out of his mouth in a snarl, “Freyja.”
The woman’s smile becomes thinner. One of her eyebrows arches. “Oh, so you figured it out.” Her eyes go to Amy. Looking her up and down, she turns her nose up a little. Gaze coming back to Bohdi she says, “Pity. I was thinking we might have a little fun before I delivered my message.”
Bohdi strides toward her. As he gets closer his nose tickles. Of course, the guise she’s wearing is just an illusion. When he was with her before he’d just thought his allergies were acting up. She was hot and he’d gotten over it. But now he wants to tear her to shreds.
“We can still have fun,” he says, closing the space between them, the still unopened knife sliding forward in his hand. With just one flick—
“Bohdi,” says Amy.
Freyja rolls her eyes. And suddenly, seemingly without movement, her hand is on his wrist pressing just the right place. His fingers snap open, and his knife drops to the ground. With a snarl, Bohdi turns into her grip, reaching for the lapel of her coat and bending his knees, prepared to use her hold against her to throw her over his shoulder.
But she’s not there. He finds himself turned around 180 degrees staring at Amy. Freyja is standing beside her very close. Leaning sideways, the so-called Goddess has an arm wrapped around Amy’s opposite shoulder so tightly that her forearm is around Amy’s neck.
“Ummm …” says Amy, pulling at the arm. “Do you mind?”
Freyja kisses the side of Amy’s head. “Aren’t you a darling?” she whispers. Her eyes go back to Bohdi. “It took me so long to find you today. Why are you here? So far from your friend when he needs you?”
Bohdi sucks in a breath and steps back. His eyes go to Amy. She’s glaring sideways at Freyja.
Freyja smiles again. This time it’s predatory. Licking her lips, she says, “Here is my message. I was ordered to kill Director Rogers. But … the way things turned out … the Allfather thinks Rogers makes a far better example pinned to a bed like a bug.”
She pulls away from Amy. Around them a few med students whisper and scamper away. Eyes still on Bohdi, she says, “You have your warning.”
Amy turns to her and snaps, “Do you enjoy being a slave of Odin?” Freyja spins at her. “Why, you little …” She raises her hand as though about to give a back-handed slap. Murmurs rise around them. Someone says, “Yo,’ easy bitch!”
Freyja’s eyes snap up. Bohdi’s body coils to lunge, but Amy runs over and whispers, “Not now … protein samples!”
Bohdi freezes. Swallowing his anger, he holds back.
Freyja narrows her eyes at them. Off to the side, a car marked as Campus Police pulls to the curb. Through an open window, an officer-looking type says, “Is everything alright here?”
Turnin
g around, Freyja casually waves a hand. “There’s no problem, officer.” She smiles and runs a hand over her neck. “My girlfriend and I … were just … joking …”
Some students step between Amy and Bohdi and the so-called Goddess. “Didn’t look like joking,” someone says.
Amy grabs Bohdi’s arm. “Come on, before the crowd goes away.”
Bohdi follows her as she runs down the block, swerving between groups of students, but inside he’s still burning. They turn a corner, and Bohdi briefly stops Amy. Peering back, he sees Freyja talking to the police. She doesn’t seem like she’s in a rush to catch them. He remembers her words, “What are you doing here?” He’d felt no lie. He huffs. They don’t know what Amy and he are up to ... maybe they don’t care, or don’t think it will work. Thor had told Bohdi that Odin knew the danger of humans and their technology, but ordinary Asgardians had been shocked to know they had running water and electric lighting. His hands clench at his sides.
“Come on,” Amy says, slightly breathlessly, yanking his arm. Bohdi turns around. As two med students exit the large Gothic building, Amy runs forward and catches the door. The med students give her a funny look but don’t say anything when she and Bohdi slink inside. The foyer smells like dust and age. The floor is worn linoleum. Paint is peeling at the corners of the walls.
Amy walks over to an elevator bank and hits the call button. She stares at the unmoving lights above the door and then goes to a stairwell. As she starts to climb she whispers. “I don’t think Freyja or Odin knows what we’re doing …”
Exactly what Bohdi had been thinking. He doesn’t respond, though. Maybe it’s the rage at Freyja that has no outlet, maybe it’s inner contrariness, but Bohdi finds himself saying, “Do we know what we’re doing? If we succeed, we make Steve a target again.”
Amy stops on the stairs and turns to Bohdi. “Do you think we should stop?”
Bohdi blinks up at her. Her expression is very earnest. Sometimes he forgets that unlike a lot of people, Amy will take him seriously.
He shakes his head. “No. I know Steve, and he’d rather go down fighting.”
Amy nods her head and starts to climb the stairs again. But the inner contrariness still flares inside Bohdi.
“Amy,” he says as they clear the first landing. “What happens to Steve if this works? Does he get … ” He licks his lips. Remembering Odin’s spies might be listening he chooses his words carefully. “Does he become like a mutant, like, I don’t know, Peter Parker?” He hopes Heimdall, the watcher in the sky, won’t catch the reference.
“Maybe …” she says, starting to breathe heavily.
Bohdi smiles bitterly. “So if this works … we maybe give the U.S. government a monopoly on …” He waves a hand instead of saying “super soldiers.”
Amy stops on the steps and meets his eyes.
Bohdi shrugs. “This is Steve we’re talking about. You know he’ll tell them how you did it.”
Amy’s head drops and her eyes start scanning the floor. “Should we stop?”
Bohdi’s jaw tenses. Intellectually, he realizes that this is a weighty question, something that should be deliberated with great care. But what strikes him—what makes the moment crystal clear and makes his heart pound—is that he does not care about wrong or right. He cares about his friend.
Bohdi’s hands slip into his pocket. This time they wrap around his lighter. “Nag. Let’s keep going.” They go up a few more steps and then Bohdi says, “I wonder if Odin’s inside man in the government is going to like us doing this for him … or hate us?” Will Odin be able to control the super soldiers? Or will the magical humans fight the All father?
Amy stops short. She turns to him, mouth open, but says nothing for a few heart beats. And then she starts climbing the stairs again, but more slowly. They are both silent until they reach James’ laboratory.
As Amy knocks, Bohdi says, “How do you know he’ll let us use his equipment and the modified virus?”
Not looking at him, Amy says, “James may be a microbiologist, but his passion is paleontology.” She pulls a plastic zip lock bag out of her pocket. In it is a single white feather that could be from any duck’s butt.
“I’m going to bribe him,” she says.
It takes Bohdi a moment to realize it’s one of the Archeopteryx feathers she carried home from Nornheim. She must have kept it from ADUO somehow.
She’s so sneaky. He grins.
x x x x
Bohdi wanders around James’s lab, looking at various microbiology equipment. Besides the scopes there are lots of beige boxes with blinking lights, pint-sized refrigerators, and computers. The counter tops look older than in Katherine’s lab. They aren’t as level and they have scars.
Across the lab, James is holding up the bag with the feather. “I don’t know, Amy … the last feather you gave me got me in a lot of trouble … ”
“But this time, James, the world knows that there are other worlds out there, and strange and exotic creatures.”
Peering through one eye James looks more closely at the bit of fluff. “But how do I even say I found this? Didn’t you say the FBI confiscated the other one?”
Shrugging, Amy says, “You were walking past the FBI headquarters downtown. You saw a feather.”
Bohdi finds his lips quirking. She says this bit of BS so smoothly. He’s very impressed. More than impressed. He wanders over to the pair.
James’ eyes flick to him and back to Amy.
She begins to speak. “You noticed the shaft was peculiar—a little too solid. The barbs a little too far apart, and the whole thing looks like the plumulaceous portion of a modern feather. You decided to put it under a scope. And then you analyzed the DNA …and discovered it diverged from birds approximately 170 million years ago.”
Bohdi’s not sure what a plumulaceous portion is, or a feather barb, but she sounds so authoritative. It kind of turns him on.
James inclines his head and lifts an eyebrow. “Archaeopteryxes lived about 150 million years ago,” he says.
Amy winces. “I know … but this one diverged from Earth birds about 170 million years ago … I checked.”
James’ brow furrows. “But if you already know, why do you want me to …”
Amy gives a thin smile. “They won’t let me publish the results. I don’t know why. Politics. But it’s important that the world know. After you’re done with your investigation you can announce your findings and ask the FBI if any more nasties have come through World Gates. To ease public fears they’ll be forced to say it came from another world, but not from any nasty that had visited here.”
Bohdi’s eyebrows hike. If that isn’t the crowning piece of sneakiness on the BS cake … Bohdi finds himself forcing himself not to look at Amy. He’s sure the awe would show on his face. Also, he might be drooling slightly.
James looks down at the feather. His fingers shake slightly. “You’re sure it’s from an Archaeopteryx?”
“Yes,” says Bohdi, trying to be useful. “A giant, acid-spitting Archeopteryx.”
James’ eyes snap to Bohdi. After hearing Katherine declare Loki their guardian angel or something, Bohdi had initially felt a weird sort-of affection for the man. But then when they’d been introduced, James had asked Bohdi where he’d finished undergrad. Bohdi could have lied. Instead he said he had almost finished a semester of community college, but was thinking about the University of Chicago. James’s look of transparent underwhelmedness would have been funny if it hadn’t been so annoying.
Now James says, “How do you know?”
“He was with me, in Nornheim,” says Amy.
“You?” says James, and Bohdi almost snorts at the incredulity in his voice.
Amy’s pulls back a little, as though shocked by James’ reaction. Obviously, with a Ph.D. in veterinary science she’s not on the receiving end of intellectual snobbery that often. “Yes,” she says. “He saved my life … a couple of times.”
The other man doesn’t look l
ike he quite believes her. And oh, how Bohdi wants to play on Katherine’s words, and say, I was like her guardian angel … or something. Instead, Bohdi just gives James a wide sharkish grin.
James scowls a little at him, but then he looks back down at the feather. “You just want to use my lab … should I ask what for?”
“No,” say Amy and Bohdi in unison.
James stands up, zip-locked feather in hand. His eyes flick back and forth between the two of them. Gaze coming back to Amy, he says, “Well, I guess you don’t have any Norse Gods of Mischief with you this time.”
Amy’s shoulders fall. “No,” she says.
Bohdi smirks at James and can’t resist. “I’m more Hindu.” He winks.
For a moment, James stares at him, but then he hands over a pair of keys. “Don’t break anything, and lock up after you leave.” Turning on his heels, he almost runs from the room. The door shuts behind him with a bang.
Flipping the thumb wheel on his lighter, Bohdi says, “It was not cool of him to bring up your ex-boyfriend around your new boyfriend.”
“Loki wasn’t my boyfriend,” she says quietly.
Bohdi feels the bite of flame on his thumb. Raising an eyebrow, he says, “He was your pretend boyfriend, too?” And then realizes what dangerous ground he’s on.
But Amy just tucks her head down, turns, and says, “I don’t want to talk about it.” She goes over to a squat little refrigerator and bends down. Opening it, she sits back on her heels and stares at a test tube rack with three neat rows. The first row has yellow stoppers, the second blue, and the third row red.
She doesn’t move.
Taking a step forward, Bohdi says, “Is that the HIV virus?”
“Yes,” says Amy, not moving.
He looks around. “Not a lot of security ... ”
“It’s modified so it doesn’t cause AIDS—or even show up on HIV tests,” she says. “Other scientists have been working with it for years. It’s James’ process that is unique.” She sits there, still not moving.
“Umm …” says Bohdi running a hand through his hair. “Do you know which one you’re going to use?”