I Bring the Fire Part IV: Fates: The Hunt for Loki Is On

by C. Gockel

  Amy shakes her head. “What happened to Cera?”

  “Still on Earth,” says Loki with a bitter smile. Laying a hand on Eisa’s shoulder, he says, “I’ve put aside my plans to burn Asgard to the ground…for now.” He leans close to the mirror, his eyes too bright. “What happened to Cera in your universe?”

  Amy can’t answer.

  Bohdi does. “You destroyed Cera and yourself, saved all our lives, and now we’re trying to find your ass before Odin finds you first.” His hand falls on Amy’s shoulder, and she rises instinctively. When had she fallen to her knees?

  “We have to go now, Amy,” Bohdi says.

  In the mirror, Eisa makes a whining noise. As though pulled by an invisible string, Amy leans down again, puts her hand to the glass, and the little girl smiles and covers her eyes.

  “Where are you, Amy?” Loki asks.

  “Nornheim,” Amy whispers.

  “Are you mad?” Loki shouts.

  Amy lifts her gaze to his. Loki’s scanning the world above her shoulder. “It’s dark—you have to find shelter before nightfall, when the adze rise.”

  Eisa opens her hands and smiles at Amy. “I see you!” Eisa says in a sing-song voice, her cheeks making dimples as she smiles.

  “Yes, you do,” says Amy, her vision blurring with tears.

  “Go!” says Loki.

  Eisa giggles and hops, her red curls bouncing. “Peek-a-boo!”

  “Come on, Amy,” says Bohdi.

  Shaking her head, Amy says, “It’s only the smoke of the fire…we have time…”

  “Amy,” Loki says.

  She lifts her eyes. A wry smile is on Loki’s face. He touches the mirror. “You—the you in this universe—told me this was a bad idea.” Shrugging, he sighs. “I’m not the so-called-god of well-thought-out choices.”

  Bohdi snorts.

  “You must go,” Loki says, his chin dipping, his voice low.

  Amy reaches again for the column. “No…not yet. It’s so good to see you again.” Even if her vision is swimming with unshed tears and she barely sees him at all.

  “No, it’s not. Not for you,” Loki says. He picks up Eisa and deposits her behind him, even as the child squeals in fury.

  Holding up a hand, Amy begs. “No, wait!”

  But Loki is already pulling back his fist, and in another heartbeat his knuckles are connecting with the mirror’s surface. The picture shatters into shards that slip to the ground. And then Amy is staring at the milky white surface of the column. It shimmers and she sees herself and Loki tangled beneath sheets and—

  Suddenly, she is spun around. She’s staring at wide brown eyes that are tinged red in Nornheim’s pink light. “We. Have. To. Go.”

  Amy’s heart is racing. She can feel her pulse pounding in her neck. In the distance, she hears what sounds like a tree crashing to the ground. Even through her tear-blurred eyes, she can see smoke rising beyond Bohdi. She knows it’s warm, but her skin feels cold, she feels so empty…

  “Amy?” Bohdi says.

  Tears slide down her cheeks. Something she’s learned over and over again, when your world falls apart, the only thing you can do is keep going.

  Nodding, she says, “Yes, I…” She puts a foot forward, and her legs give out, but there’s a hand already on her arm.

  She’s barely aware of Bohdi as he leads her from the underbrush and back onto the trail. Her body is shaking. Her mind is spinning. How had it happened? How had Loki lived?

  She bites her lip—they’d almost gone to Vanaheim together. If only in her universe, Amy had been more enthusiastic about that plan, if they’d gone, and Loki had discovered she was pregnant, he never would have abandoned her. She sucks on her lip. No matter what he felt about her, he would never abandon his own child.

  Inhaling a sharp scent of burning ash, Amy closes her eyes, relying on Bohdi to guide her, methodically willing her feet to go forward.

  There is no guarantee that the Loki she just saw loved her—or if she was happy—or loved him, or…

  She squeezes her eyes tighter. Of course she loved him, she’d probably always love him a little bit. Once you loved someone, could you ever stop? She takes a shaky step. Up ahead there is a break in the clouds of smoke, a little pink sunlight filters through.

  Something in Amy’s chest unwinds. But would she have liked being with Loki? Would she have been happy? He never saw her as an equal—how could he? He was ancient, and magical. But more than that, could she respect him? Amy thinks of Rind. Loki had felt betrayed, let down by Odin—but he’d watched rape before and hadn’t interfered. It was something he found distasteful; but it was also something he took for granted as just happening. Like torture. Even after being tortured himself in Geirod’s castle, he didn’t think it was wrong.

  She searches her mind for the Frost Giant or Asgardian equivalent for the phrase “human rights.” It doesn’t exit. Biting her lip, she lifts her head. Her eyes still prickle, but she is feeling lighter, and her steps becoming surer.

  …And then Amy thinks of Eisa’s red curls bouncing, her tiny fingers covering her eyes, and her legs almost give out again. If not for Bohdi’s arm in hers, she’d probably have landed in the dirt. Putting a hand to her face, she wipes her tears away and stumbles on the trail. “I’m sorry,” Amy stammers, to Bohdi, or the Eisa in this universe that might have been, she’s not sure. “I’m sorry…”

  Voice tight, Bohdi says, “It’s all right.”

  He’s quiet for a few minutes. The only sounds the rushing of the wind through the trees and the falling timber in the distance.

  And then out of the blue, Bohdi says, “What you saw…That was fucking awful.”

  Amy laughs. Well, it’s more of a sob. “That is…” The perfect description of what just happened.

  “Yeah,” she manages to say. She begins to regain her feet. She doesn’t let go of Bohdi’s arm. For a few minutes, she forgot he was with her, but now she remembers, and she’s grateful…for the arm, for his understanding. And she feels a little guilty. “Bohdi, what you saw in the column when we first got here…”

  He shakes his head. “It wasn’t as bad,” he says, and says no more.

  If he elaborated, Amy might have believed him. Beatrice says that each person has his or her own way of coping. Beatrice survived the Holodomor famine instigated by Stalin in the Ukraine, and would know. So Amy doesn’t press. But she squeezes his arm.

  She feels the wind rising behind her back. As if by some unspoken agreement, Bohdi’s and her steps quicken. Bohdi briefly turns to look behind them. “We’ve got to put some distance between us and the fire…otherwise we’re going to get smoked out of any shelter we find tonight.”

  Amy nods her head, and releases his arm. Without speaking, they half-jog half-walk down the trail.

  x x x x

  Sitting on a boulder, Bohdi eats his portion of the protein bar Amy stowed in her pocket. At his feet is a tiny stream that intersects with the river just a few yards down the trail. The stream is too small to hide kappa.

  He stares down at the last bit of the protein bar in his hand, but in his mind, he sees Loki putting his fist through the mirror. Up until that moment, Bohdi hadn’t really believed Thor and Amy’s story about Loki destroying Cera out of an act of supreme self-sacrifice. He’s still not sure…still, the mirror…How dumb is it, to put your hand through a piece of glass? But it’s also understandable on a gut level. In the mirror, Loki had seen Amy—his girl, in trouble—not even his girl, really, but close enough. He’d reacted, in a way that was kind of noble, if stupid…which makes Amy’s quest to find him not quite as crazy as he thought…and that doesn’t exactly make him happy.

  “Sheesh, I thought I was the one who hated protein bars,” Amy says.

  Bohdi blinks at her. Sitting on a boulder beside him, she’s licking the last bits of her ration off her fingers. Her eyes are dry, but they’re still red rimmed.

  “You’ve been glaring at it for the past three minutes,” she s
ays.

  Standing up, he pops the last bite in his mouth and gives her a grin. “Aren’t you glad I bought them now?”

  “Aren’t you glad I didn’t eat it on the roof?” Amy counters, her lips curling into the barest hint of a smile.

  He’s glad she’s not crying, but her mention of the roof makes the smile drop from his face. That seems like a world away. He swallows the bit of food. It is a world away. The enormity of what he’s done, where they are, suddenly catches up with him. He feels dizzy and short of breath. Or maybe that’s the smoke in the air.

  “Hey, you okay?” Amy says, coming to his side and putting a hand on his arm. Mr. Squeakers twitches his whiskers on her shoulder.

  Shrugging her hand away he says, “We should probably get a move on.”

  Two creases appear on her brow, but she says, “Yes, right.”

  They set off down the trail in silence. The wind has picked up, and Bohdi’s certain that the sound of trees falling in the fire’s wake is louder. As they start to walk, Amy says, “Thank you…for the protein bar.”

  Not looking at her, Bohdi shrugs again.

  “And thanks…for everything,” she says softly. Bohdi hears a sniff beside him.

  His eyes slide to the side, and he feels an uncomfortable lump form in his throat. Amy’s wiping tears from her eyes again. A hopelessness he hadn’t felt when facing giant spiders slips into his limbs.

  “Ugh…” she groans, shaking her hand as though trying to shake away her tears. “This isn’t the time for this.” She swallows and her face crumples. “Whenever I think of Eisa…” Her voice trails off, and she turns her head away.

  The little girl. Her little girl. Bohdi’s never thought of himself as particularly sensitive, but he’s seen how even Steve gets worked up about his kid. And Amy getting worked up over Eisa, well, maybe he likes to hope someone gets that worked up about him. He clears his throat. “Yeah, must have been like being hit with a brick.” A painful collision with what might have been. Eisa might not be Bohdi’s, but she was a kid, and as Steve would say, “cute, perfect, and oblivious in the way kids are.”

  Amy sniffles again and wipes her face.

  What to do about this? Bohdi bites his lip. His hand seeks out his lighter in his pocket, and instead connects with a tissue. What an idiot he is! He has tissues, rumpled, possibly slightly used—but probably better than her sleeve.

  “Hey,” he says, pulling one out without looking.

  Amy turns, looks down at his hand, and then groans. “Just when I think you’re kind of okay…”

  Rolling her eyes, she quickens her pace and steps ahead of him.

  He looks down at his hand—and his eyes go wide. He just offered her Frieda’s thong. He chuckles. “Whoops, that’s probably unsanitary.” He considers tossing it aside, but decides that would be littering. Nornheim is kinda pristine and it seems wrong to spoil its one redeeming feature.

  Ahead of him, Amy spins around. “It’s not just unsanitary, it’s wrong!”

  “Huh?” says Bohdi breaking into a jog to catch up with her. “I thought it was a tissue—”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” Amy says, turning her head to glare at him.

  Get what? Bohdi’s eyes slide to the side, and his mind draws a blank. “Errr…no?”

  Beside him, feet thumping loudly along the path, Amy mutters, “Throwing trophies of your conquest around.”

  “Trophies of my conquest?” Bohdi says.

  “The. Thong,” Amy spits out, eyes focused too deliberately straight ahead.

  Pulling the thong out of his pocket again, Bohdi dangles the slip of pink satin on a finger. “This isn’t a trophy.”

  Amy harumpfs. “Then why did you take it?”

  Bohdi bites his lip. Should he…or shouldn’t he… Oh hell, he’s a United States Marine, he’s allowed to be secure in his masculinity. He cackles. “I couldn’t find my underwear so I borrowed hers!” He’d been in a bit of a rush. Frieda had gone off to the shower alluding to another round, and Bohdi had needed to make a quick escape.

  Amy stops dead in her tracks.

  Bohdi smiles and waggles his eyebrows. Bouncing the tiny piece of pink on his finger he says, “Girly satin is comfy.” He sighs dramatically. “But unfortunately, this little bit of ribbon wouldn’t provide even a lesser endowed male with support.”

  Amy’s eyes go wide. Her gaze drops from his face to the waistband of his jeans. “So what are you—”

  “Nothin’,” Bohdi says, biting back a smirk.

  Groaning, she turns and begins walking again.

  Bohdi skips a step to catch up. “I didn’t mean to take it after I realized how small it was, but when I left the hotel room, it was wrapped around my wrist, so I shoved it in my pocket—and then I forgot about it.”

  His skin heats. “Until Bryant accused me of lying.”

  Jaw clenched, Amy grinds out, “Throwing it was still wrong.”

  Perplexed, Bohdi scratches his head. “Why?”

  Amy lets out a heavy sigh. “How would you like it if someone threw your underwear at work?”

  Bohdi’s smile drops. That’s a big question. “Why are they throwing it?”

  “Because they had sex with you, and you forgot and left it at their place…I don’t know.” The last words come out in a huff.

  How would Bohdi feel about that?

  “Well?” Amy says, hopping over a large root on the trail.

  Bohdi taps his chin. “So everyone in the office would know I had sex?”

  “Yes,” Amy snips.

  Bohdi laughs. “Awesome! You know, some people have strange ideas about Asian men.”

  Amy groans. “Okay, don’t think how it would make you feel, think about how it would make the woman feel.”

  Bohdi purses her lips. There is a right answer to this question, if he thinks hard…

  “Humiliated!” Amy says. “It’s not fair, but there’s a double standard, and yes she would feel utterly humiliated.”

  Bohdi’s eyes widen, and then narrow as he recalls his night with Frieda. “Then she might actually like it.”

  “What?” says Amy, her nose wrinkling.

  Bohdi shrugs. “Frieda, the owner of this…” He holds up the tiny slip of fabric. “…was totally in to the humiliation thing.”

  Amy draws to a stop. Her hands go to her hips, and she glares up at him.

  Stopping only long enough to give her a curt nod, Bohdi continues down the trail. “The only reason she was with me was because she got off on me being Steve’s lowly minion.”

  Amy scampers as she catches up with him. “Did she call you his lowly minion?”

  Bohdi nods again. “Yep.”

  “And you were okay with that?”

  Bohdi shrugs. “She was hot.”

  “Who uses the words lowly minion?”

  Bohdi stops short. That was a little weird. Shaking his head, he starts walking again. “Look, some people like a lot weirder stuff, I’m not here to judge. As long as there are no clown outfits, or scat, or…”

  “Stop, I get the idea!” Amy says.

  Bodhi stuffs the thong back into his pocket and readjusts the branch he’s carrying in his hand. “So anyway, yeah. Frieda was totally into the humiliation thing. She made me tell her over and over again what a bad girl she was, and then she flung herself across my lap and made me spank her.” Grimacing, he adds, “It was kind of a lot of work. I dunno if the payoff was worth it…even though she was hot. I hurt my hand, my arm got tired, and I had to use my belt, and then…”

  “I don’t believe this,” Amy mutters.

  “That some people enjoy being humiliated? It’s just a game, it’s not how they are in real life…”

  “No!” says Amy.

  Bohdi scowls, disappointed. “That’s very closed-minded of you, Amy. It’s true. Humiliation turns some people on, and judging…” He tsks.

  “I’m not being judgmental! I just can’t believe you’re telling me how you spanked her with your
belt!” Amy cries, putting both hands to her face. She groans. “Believe me, I know some people like to be humiliated.”

  Bohdi’s feet slow. It would probably be in bad form to ask how she knows. He bites his tongue. Literally. It’s the only way he can keep his mouth shut.

  In front of him, Amy sighs. “Freyja…Loki had to find a way to get into her home to find the necklace…”

  x x x x

  The morning in Asgard is misty and cool. Loki snaps his fingers. In the cave, he’d learned how to split water molecules into hydrogen and oxygen. A small flame sputters to life at the tip of his thumb, fed by the humid air. He hasn’t learned how to control his temper.

  His jaw clenches. If he didn’t love his sons so much, he’d kill them. Apparently, Heimdall has overheard Nari and Valli discuss much more radical changes than expansion of the Diar. Unlike Freyja, Nari and Valli don’t pose a credible threat to Odin’s power, but Odin could have them tried for treason.

  Odin has offered Loki a bargain—find Freyja’s necklace, destroy her reputation—and Nari’s and Valli’s crimes will be forgotten and forgiven.

  Snapping his fingers again, Loki feels the bite of flame on his skin. Scowling, he remembers asking the Allfather how exactly he was supposed to sneak into Freyja’s chambers. Freyja has cats. Two of them. The humans speculate that they pull her chariot. That is ludicrous, of course. Convincing even just two cats to work as a team is beyond even Freyja’s considerable magical skills. They do, however, have keen noses for enchantment. If Loki were to try and sneak into her chambers invisibly, they’d be all over him, alerting her guards to his presence.

  The only solution is to be invited into Freyja’s hall. When Loki reminded Odin of that fact, the Allfather replied, “Get yourself invited the same way you have always gotten yourself invited.”

  Loki felt his skin heat in rage.

  Odin cocked an eyebrow. “What, are you worried about Sigyn finding out?”

  Loki’s jaw tensed. Odin snorted.

  Sigyn had changed during Loki’s time in the cave. She’d taken up with the Valkyries as soon as the boys were able to fend for themselves, learning for herself the art of combat. She’d also begun studying the rapidly evolving cultures and happenings on Earth. She regularly advised Freyja on where to find new candidates for the Einherjar. And although the Aesir rarely heard prayers from humans anymore, when they did, they went to Sigyn to learn how to walk among the mortals without drawing undue attention.