by C. Gockel
Ignoring the sparking hammer, Amy sticks her hand into the loop. About halfway through, her hand disappears. She gasps. “It’s working!”
Bohdi’s jaw falls, the Promethean wire trembles, Mjolnir sparks more brightly, and then the loop starts to grow, drawing more wire from the spool as it does.
“Wha—” says Bohdi.
Amy pulls her hand back out. The wire loop stops growing…but now the loop is wider. Without a word, Amy sticks her head into the loop…and suddenly Bohdi is staring at a headless Amy, the Promethean wire shuddering around her, Mjolnir sparking madly, and the loop continues to grow—but it’s still not large enough for Thor.
From behind him, he hears Thor shout. “How goes it, son of Patel?”
“Uhhhh…” says Bohdi staring at the widening loop, “just a minute.”
Sitting back on his haunches, he gazes at the unspooling wire and Amy’s shoulders. The gate is still too narrow. This is never going to work. He winces at the sight of her headless body. Is she even still alive? This is creepier than he anticipated.
Amy’s hand lifts and makes a beckoning motion.
And suddenly Bohdi doesn’t care about creepiness or if this is going to work; he has to see whatever Amy sees.
Ducking his head, he fills his lungs like he’s about to dive into a pool, grabs the handle of Mjolnir to steady himself, and plunges his head through.
There is the brief flash of light in every color of the rainbow, and he finds himself…or at least his head, in pink-tinged sunlight, a gentle breeze ruffling his hair. He laughs aloud.
“Welcome to Nornheim!” Amy says.
Bohdi is too excited to question how she can verify where they are. He starts to push further through the gate, but something grabs him by the shoulder and holds him back. He looks down. Where his one shoulder has pressed through, Amy’s hand has grabbed him.
Lifting his eyes, he sees Amy’s head…weirdly cut off at the neck. “Look down,” she says.
Bohdi’s eyes drop. About ten feet below him is what looks like a fine latticework of glass through which he can see the ground. It’s very far away…like up in an airplane faraway-faraway… He makes an undignified-sounding noise.
Amy inclines her head in the direction of the latticework. “My guess is that it can hold a squirrel’s weight, but I’m not sure about ours.”
Bohdi nods.
Amy’s head, eerily suspended in midair, turns to him. “So, if our heads are here and our hearts are there—” she looks in the direction that would be Bohdi’s body. “How come we’re still alive?”
Bohdi raises an eyebrow and gulps. “Probably best not to think about that right now?”
Of course, now that she’s raised the question, Bohdi can’t not think about it.
In his hand, Mjolnir trembles, and Bohdi feels the bite of sparks against his skin. “Something’s happening,” he says.
With a jerk, he pulls his head back through the loop and feels the bitter cold of Chicago’s wind whipping down the neck of his coat.
The loop doesn’t look like it’s increased in size, but as soon as he takes his hand off Mjolnir, it suddenly expands to a width that even Thor’s chariot can fit through. If they all huddle together, they’ll make it.
Amy emerges an instant later. The expansion stops, and she looks up and gasps. “The loop has gotten larger. How?” Amy says.
Bohdi’s mind races. “I don’t know why it got bigger, but you know how we stayed whole when half of us was here and half of us was there? Maybe it isn’t so much a ‘gate’ as an envelope in space time…but at a certain point light can’t escape and so…”
Beside him, Amy inhales sharply.
He stops. His eyes slide to her. He licks his lips nervously, prepared for, “What are you talking about?” or “Wha—?” or as Marion would affectionately say, “You weirdo.”
Instead, Amy says, “Like a magical event horizon!” Her eyes are sparkling, and she’s smiling at him.
Bohdi’s heart rate increases. He licks his lips again, this time for a completely different reason. He opens his mouth…and lets out a startled, “Erp!” as Thor lifts him and Amy both by the collars of their coats.
“Eep!” says Amy.
“They’ve almost broken down the door!” shouts Thor, getting into the chariot. He pushes them in the direction of the vehicle. Picking up the duffel bag with the remaining spool of wire, Bohdi darts with Amy toward the chariot.
Behind him, Thor yells, “Chariot, back up!”
The chariot rolls toward Amy and Bohdi and they leap in. A loud boom echoes through the apartment and Bohdi hears shouts of, “This is the FBI.” He’s aware of the sound of a chopper behind them getting louder very quickly.
Turning his head, he sees Thor lifting Mjolnir so that the head of the hammer is at the top of the loop, now about four and a half feet off the ground.
“Stop!” someone shouts. Bodhi turns in the direction of the door and sees three agents striding forward, guns raised. He’s not sure if he’s sad or relieved his friend Marion isn’t with them. He and Amy both drop their heads behind the front wall of the chariot. The chariot keeps rolling backward. There is the sound of gunfire and bullets ricocheting off the chariot. Thor’s body is suddenly pressing between Amy and Bohdi, squeezing Bohdi’s shoulders against the chariot wall with such force, Bohdi grits his teeth. Bohdi’s eyes slide to the big man ducking beside him, holding up the hammer, keeping it in contact with the Promethean wire even as gunfire slams into the armor of his wrist…and then the back of Thor’s shoulders disappear and suddenly Bohdi, Amy, Thor, and the chariot bathed in the pink light of Nornheim.
The chariot drops. Thor pulls Mjolnir to his side and shouts, “Chariot, level!” And then they are floating in midair.
Bohdi starts laughing with relief.
Gasping for air and smiling, Amy meets his eyes.
Thor stands and looks to the sky. The sun is almost directly overhead. Muttering a few words, Thor tracks it with his thumb. “It is mid-morning here.”
Breathing heavily, Bohdi scans the sky. “The light is so pink…” He’d thought when he first poked his head through that it was sunrise or sundown.
Beside him, Amy speaks, her voice far away. “The sun is a red dwarf…”
“Aye,” says Thor. It strikes Bohdi that he is breathing hard, too. Also, the air is warmer than in Chicago, but it’s still cold.
Thor nods to himself. “We aren’t at the highest level of filaments, but the air is thin here…”
Grabbing the lip of the chariot wall, Bohdi stands as Amy rises shakily beside him. Gazing upward for the first time, he sees a glint in the sky—another latticework like the one below them?
Amy gasps. “The lacey glass filaments—they’re the branches of the giant columns.”
“Yes,” says Thor. He spreads his feet and the chariot wobbles at the movement.
Holding on more tightly, Bohdi turns and looks down. The latticework he’d seen earlier rolls out beneath them, getting thicker and sturdier looking as it approaches what looks like a tree of sparkling glass about thirty meters away. The tree’s trunk keeps rising beyond where his eyes can see, similar lattices stretching out from it along the trunk above them.
“The branches of the columns catch cosmic rays and solar radiation,” Thor says. “The Norns convert those forces into magic and use it for their own purposes. The Norns are three of the most powerful beings in the Nine Realms—but only here on Nornheim.”
Bohdi turns his head sharply to Thor. Somehow, solar radiation and cosmic rays were the last words he’d expected to hear from the space Viking. He sees Amy looking at the big guy with a similar look of surprise on her face.
Raising an eyebrow at them both, Thor says, “I am over one thousand years old. I have picked up a bit of mag—” Speech halting, he tilts his great head. “Scientific knowledge.”
Bohdi swallows. “Ummm…right, sorry.”
“Errr…yes,” says Amy. “Of course.”
>
Shaking his head with a bit of a smirk, Thor gazes downward. “Now to discover where we are so that we may make our way to the dwellings of the Norns.” He looks at Bohdi. “I don’t suppose Myeyephone would know where we are?”
“No,” say Amy and Bohdi in unison.
Thor nods, sagaciously. “Of course, of course, the sprite has never been here before…ah, well.”
Before Bohdi or Amy can respond, Thor shouts, “Chariot, down!” and the floor beneath Bohdi drops so fast he almost flies out. They crash through the latticework below, it tinkles like breaking glass, and Amy gives a startled yip.
The world below comes into more vivid focus—forested hills interspersed with more columns—and are those swaths of white tents? Smiling, Bohdi shakes his head and grins. They did it! They made it to a new world without major injuries and only minor property damage. He almost laughs. It went so perfectly… Usually, his plans have a way of going horribly wrong.
x x x x
“The news says that Thor took Bohdi and Amy!” Steve’s daughter’s disembodied voice rings so loudly that Steve pushes the phone away from his ear.
“They’re fine,” Steve says, pacing the length of the hallway in Loki’s building. “They’re with Thor. They’re not in any danger.”
Even as he says it, Gerðr’s words ring in his mind. “They are in Nornheim, the realm of everything dangerous, dreadful, and deadly.”
“He kidnapped them!” says Claire.
Rubbing his temple, Steve scowls and remembers Bryant’s and Brett’s descriptions of events and doubts it. All he says to Claire is, “That has not been confirmed.”
And then another thought hits him. “You’re ten years old—what are you doing watching the news?”
On the other end of the line Claire huffs. “It’s called Social Studies, Dad. We’re doing a unit on current affairs. You have to get them back!”
“I know,” says Steve. He respects Lewis, and needs her skills and knowledge. And Bohdi…
When Steve first took Bohdi in, it was partly out of charity, and partly out of curiosity. When they had found him, the kid’s brain was temporarily humming with magic. Why, out of millions of people, had Loki wiped Bohdi’s memory? Did Bohdi know something? It was a situation Steve wanted to keep an eye on. Over the past two years, Bohdi’s become something of a friend. Or maybe a sidekick. Or an obnoxious little brother. And even if Steve wants to strangle him half the time, he doesn’t like the idea of him dying in pain and agony on some far off planet.
Trying to switch subjects, he says, “How is your arm?”
“Daddy!” Beatrice’s voice rings behind him. “Director Rogers!”
Steve rolls his eyes. “I have to go, honey. Love you.”
“Get Bohdi, back,” says Claire just before Steve clicks his phone shut.
“Director Rogers!” says Beatrice, holding up her umbrella. “Why don’t we send in paratroopers?”
Steve turns around and finds himself face to face not just with Beatrice, but with Gerðr and two female agents.
Gerðr had opened the gate for ADUO…well, for Beatrice. The giantess hadn’t been completely unconscious when Skírnir tried to kidnap her. In thanks she offered to cooperate with the agency. She was able to verify the realm that Thor had taken them to was Nornheim, and had even allowed Steve and Beatrice to peek over her shoulder for a few moments when she’d opened the gate.
The magic shielding bracelets and helmet had to be removed for her to open the World Gate. They still haven’t been put back on.
Gerðr’s wearing nearly formless winter clothes, and Steve’s eyes go to the face of the giantess, the other women around her fading to just amorphous clouds at the edge of his consciousness. Gerðr’s skin is so pale it’s nearly transparent, her eyes are a cold gray, and her hair is so blonde it’s nearly white. The giantess narrows her eyes at him and her nostrils flare slightly. Her looks and personality are as bitter and cold as the Chicago winter. But Steve still feels his body heat when he looks at her, feels his pulse rate increase, and can’t help but think of what his dark skin would look like pressed against hers.
Beatrice clears her throat, and Steve spins on his heels, averting his eyes and licking his lips. Damn magical glamour.
“Paratroopers, Steven! Why don’t we send them?” Beatrice says.
Keeping his body carefully turned away from the giantess, Steve meets Beatrice’s gaze. “We have no idea where they went, Beatrice, and they are in a flying vehicle—”
“We could send in gliders!” says Beatrice.
“We’re sending in drones, Beatrice! Intelligence-gathering drones. For now, nothing, and no one else!” Steve snaps.
From over Steve’s shoulder, Gerðr speaks. Without magic blocking cuffs, her English is flawless. “The Director’s plan is wise, Beatrice. It will do the most to find your granddaughter, and will be the least offensive to the Norns.”
Steve’s not sure if he turns to look at Gerðr because it’s one of the very few civil things she’s ever said about any human…or if he just wants to look at her… His eyes fall on her lips. They’re not particularly full, but they are well shaped…as is her whole face. It’s like she has been carved out of marble. Steve thinks he could spend hours tracing the perfect angles and valleys of her silhouette with his eyes, his fingers, his tongue…
Beatrice clears her throat again, and Steve throws a hand up in front of his eyes. “Can you just turn off the glamour?” Steve snaps.
Leaning forward with snakelike speed and grace, Gerðr hisses. “You’re a dog!” The two agents behind her grab her elbows and pull her back, scowling at the giantess as they do.
Keeping his hand aloft, Steve sighs and rolls his eyes, “Believe me, I feel like one.”
Down the hall, Hernandez pokes his head out of Loki’s apartment. “Sir! We have a press conference at the front of the building in three minutes.”
Steve sighs. “Thank God,” he mumbles as he strides past Gerðr and the agents, now wrestling with the giantess’s arms.
As he steps into the elevator beside Hernandez, he’s still thinking about Gerðr, his mind wandering off in uncomfortable trajectories. Rubbing the back of his neck, Steve grumbles, “Is it just her magic or—”
He lets out a huff, and shakes his head. Or loneliness. He can’t bring himself to say it out loud. He’d thought, when he’d been talking to Frieda, the lawyer he’d met the other night, that there was something there. She’d been sexy in the best kind of way—the kind of way that came with confidence, success, and a passion for life. He thought she was someone Claire could look up to.
But then she’d gone back to her hotel with Bohdi… Is desperation causing Steve to lose his ability to read people?
“It’s magic,” Hernandez says. “We’ve got to keep the Promethean cuffs and the helmet on Gerðr or one of our guys is going to get in trouble.”
Steve snaps out of his reverie, his brain catching on the words, “one of our guys will get in trouble.” What about Gerðr, herself? After the ill-fated meeting with Skírnir, when Beatrice was busy filling out forms, Steve had taken some time to reacquaint himself with the myths surrounding Gerðr. Her husband Freyr had fallen in love with her from afar, but she’d wanted nothing to do with him. So Freyr sent his servant Skírnir to convince Gerðr to allow him to court her. Skírnir had tried to convince Gerðr with threats of pain and death. Gerðr had refused. And then Skírnir had threatened her father, and in some stories, her father’s lands and people. Skírnir had also promised to “wed” her to a three-headed giant. In the end, Gerðr had married Freyr.
Steve had always taken the myths with a hefty grain of salt—there were some stories where the union between Gerðr and Freyr was a happy one. But then Amy had confirmed that a darker interpretation of the couple’s origins was the truth.
“We need her magic, and she’s been very cooperative since Beatrice shot Skírnir,” Steve muses almost to himself.
“We only need her magic when
she’s opening the gate,” says Hernandez.
“But without magic, she can’t communicate as well,” Steve counters.
“It’s for her own protection,” says Hernandez.
Raising an eyebrow, Steve says, “That’s what the Taliban says about burkas.”
Staring at the numbers above the elevator door, Hernandez says, “That’s a fallacy, sir—this is magic we’re talking about, not just ordinary urges.”
The elevator dings and the doors slide open.
Steve rubs his temple. “I think I’m getting a headache.”
“Magic will do that,” says Hernandez as they walk through the lobby.
When they step out into the frigid air of the Chicago night and are instantly set upon by a gauntlet of the press, it’s actually a relief. As flashbulbs go off in his face, he feels his adrenaline surge, and a smile comes to his lips.
Above the din, a man’s voice rises. “Is it true that Thor kidnapped two American citizens?”
Steve raises his voice. “There is no solid evidence a kidnapping has occurred, Frank.” Steve makes a point to address the investigative reporters that trail him by name. They eat it up.
There are a few more questions that Steve answers deftly enough, carefully restraining a mischievous smirk. Steve’s used to leadership, but the tango he does with the press is new. He can’t help but think of it as a game.
An unfamiliar woman’s voice, precise, clipped, and British, comes from Steve’s left. “Thor apparently entered this building in his chariot, but hasn’t exited the building. Is there perhaps a portal to another realm in one of the flats above?”
Steve’s head snaps in the direction of the voice. His eyes settle upon a woman with skin nearly as dark as his own. She’s either very tall or wearing impressive heels; her eyes are just a few inches below Steve’s. Her unstraightened hair is tied up into a soft bun at the back of her head. Her eyes are warm and brown. And she’s beautiful. Not in the perfect way Gerðr is beautiful. This woman is beautiful in a way that’s real—there’s a dimple in one side of her face and not the other. Her bottom lip is a little too large for her top, she has smile lines, and two lines between her eyes. A woman who thinks, worries, and laughs about things—a human being.