by C. Gockel
Stepping off the dias, Heimdal says, “Loki, if you go to Niflheim you will be among the afflicted. You will die.”
“Send me through the gate!” Loki screams. Without waiting for a reply he grits his teeth and turns Sleipnir towards the Niflheim branch. The steed goes a few paces and then falls to its knees. Cursing, Loki dismounts. From behind him Heimdall says, “Loki, be reasonable.”
Spinning, Loki says, “Send me through!” Flames flare at his fingertips.
Heimdall stares at him for a moment. “Very well.”
Unlike the gate to Vanaheim, the gate to Niflheim has no travelers. As Loki steps upon the stones he has a moment of apprehension. Then he thinks of Helen, one of the few things he’s ever created that is right, dying in Niflheim, the land of cold and mists—and he is a leaf caught up in a tide of a flood. He can’t turn back. Clenching his hands, he turns to face Heimdall and the group of mages behind him.
Loki nods. Heimdall nods once, and then says, “Send him!”
The mages lower their staves. Once more Loki is bathed in rainbow light, and then the light subsides and he is surrounded by mist in a barren field of brown, knee high grasses. He hears moans and cries off to his left. Swallowing, he heads in that direction.
He reaches the camp just a few minutes later. Helen isn’t the only one afflicted by the plague. There are at least a dozen ancient shaggy ponies attached to wagons filled with the dead and dying. Loki briefly catches sight of skin with great black pustules. The stench is terrible.
“Helen!” he shouts. There is no answer. Covering his mouth with his sleeve, he forces himself to walk through the wagons. And then he sees Ganglati and Ganglöt, two lame sisters, the only servants Sigyn could entreat to work in their household. They are utterly devoted to Helen, and the only people Sigyn or Loki would ever trust with their daughter’s care. Now they lie in the grass unmoving by the wheels of one of the wagons. Where their skin is unmarred by the black pustules, it is gray and ashen.
Loki stares in shock. He is used to death by war, but he has never actually seen anyone dead by disease. His jaw sags and all thoughts flee him. And then he hears a low moan from the wagon. Swallowing, Loki climbs into the back. Helen lies amid a pile of carefully arranged pillows, a blanket lovingly tucked under her chin, water and food laid out beside her—Ganglati and Ganglöt’s last act of love. The side of his daughter that is flesh colored is marked by the dark peeling pustules, but the side of her that is blue is unmarred. Loki is terrified, but feels pulled forward as though by an invisible string.
When Helen sees him, her lips part slightly and her gaze meets his under half-lidded eyes. She doesn’t make a sound. But when Loki sits down beside her she reaches to him with a tiny blue hand. Pulling Helen into his arms, Loki begins to rock and chant, trying to focus all of his magical energy on making her well, or just keeping her alive. Her little hand tightens in his.
He doesn’t have any plans anymore; he only hopes that Hoenir will come. The gray light of Niflheim’s day turns to the darker gray of night, and Loki continues to rock. There comes a moment when Helen’s blue magic flares so brightly that Loki’s own skin turns blue. Loki’s desperation rises; he squeezes her tighter and begins to rock more frantically.
Beside them the air begins to flicker. Loki looks up to see a semi-transparent Odin before them in the blue light.
“Save her!” Loki screams. Even Odin’s abilities for healing are stronger than his own.
The apparition flickers. “Not much time...Loki, Baldur did this...”
Loki’s mouth twists and Helen moans.
Stepping closer, Odin’s ghostly form says, “He must be stopped...his vanity...he will destroy Asgard...”
“Why don’t you stop him! Why don’t you do anything!” Loki says, his voice coming out half-scream, half-choked sobs.
The apparition closes its eyes for a moment and seems to sigh. “Because like everyone else, I am enchanted.”
Helen’s blue glow flares more brightly. Her hand tightens around Loki’s and she tucks her head towards his chest.
“Only you can stop him now,” Odin says. “It is in your nature.”
Helen’s grip relaxes and her head falls back.
Loki is only vaguely aware of Odin disappearing. Dropping his head to Helen’s body, he murmurs, “No, no, no, no!”
And then her blue light winks away, only a faint blue sheen remains on Loki’s hands. Baldur’s voice rings in his mind, “You destroy everything beautiful.”
Loki continues to rock and chant until his mouth is dry and his voice is hoarse. By the time Hoenir and Mimir find him—a day later—Loki is silent. But he hasn’t moved Helen’s body from his lap.
Chapter 2
Amy is awoken by a screaming headache, the urge to vomit, and the rumble of thunder—in that order. She puts a hand to her head and feels a warm body at her side. For a minute she freezes. A memory swims through her head of Loki in bed beside her, a warm hand on her hip. Or was it a dream? She taps tentatively with her elbow and hears a low, decidedly-canine growl. Lifting her head she sees Fenrir next to her, curled around a small gray ball with eight velvety black legs.
Amy blinks. “Mr. Squeakers!”
Fenrir and the spider mouse both lift their heads as if to say, “What?”
Amy stares a moment, swaying slightly, her stomach feeling woozy. Is she witnessing misplaced maternal instincts on Fenrir’s part? She tilts her head. At least Fenrir isn’t eating Mr. Squeakers.
Pulling herself up, she looks down. She’s still in the clothing she wore yesterday, only her shoes are off. She heads to the bathroom, and promptly loses the contents of her stomach. She’s seriously considering playing hooky, but her cell starts ringing. When she doesn’t pick up, it stops, and then there is a knock at the door.
“Ms. Lewis, Ms. Lewis!”
Amy stumbles to the door and sees a female agent from ADUO through the peep hole. When she opens it up, the agent—Smith? Larson?, Amy can’t remember—says, “We need you to come in for debriefing. I’ll drive you.”
Amy stares at her for a moment. There is a flash of lightning and the boom of thunder. Wet snowflakes are falling all around and accumulating in a slippery blanket on the street and sidewalks. “Fine. But I’m taking a shower first.”
x x x x
Forty-five minutes, two glasses of water, two Tylenol and a shower later, Amy is sitting in the boxy ADUO sedan feeling slightly better. The storm seems to have passed over, but traffic is still miserable. The ‘L’ train might have been faster.
Opening her purse she pulls out a small pink rectangular package and peels back the cover. There are no birth control pills inside. Amy rubs her eyes. It’s not that she needs them for what they’re intended for, but without them she suffers debilitating cramps, a lovely monthly reminder that she’s failed her body and its biological imperative to reproduce.
“Would you let me off at the pharmacy across the street from the office?” she says to the two agents in the front seat, the woman who knocked on her door this morning, and her partner, a man Amy’s never seen before.
“Our orders are to take you directly to the office,” the man says.
Amy remembers the last month before she went on the pill in grad school, of literally crumpling over in the women’s bathroom right after an exam and crying. In her entire life she’d never been in more pain. Head still a little fuzzy, Amy’s eyes go wide. In a frantic voice she says, “You have to take me to the pharmacy. I’m out of birth control pills! I can’t have cramps again! I can’t!”
The man says, “Our orders are to—”
But the woman cuts him off. “We’ll let you go to the pharmacy.”
Amy slumps into her seat. It occurs to her that she really doesn’t need the new pill package before work, but she’s suddenly anxious to get out of the car. That was TMI to be sharing. She sighs. Of course the agents probably know about it anyway. It’s not like her life is her own anymore.
She thinks
of Loki lying beside her, his hand running up her hip—probably for the best that was only a dream. She blinks. Wasn’t it?
Later when she’s paying for her prescription, she’s still trying to remember what went on the night before. She remembers the pub, sitting on Loki’s lap, laughing about quantum theory with him and her friends. She remembers him saying that turning blue might be a symptom of dying—and she remembers wanting to kiss him for it, right then and there. She vaguely recalls getting into a cab and letting her head fall onto Loki’s lap. He’d smiled down at her and kissed her hand.
After that...things are kind of a blur.
She heads for the door and hears someone say, “Miss Lewis?”
Stopping, Amy turns around, expecting to see an agent. Instead she sees a slender, pale, blonde-headed man with brown eyes who looks familiar...and at the same time not. It’s the man she met in the park near the troll gate, the one who looks so much like Liddel, the elf she met in Alfheim. Liddel and his wife were on their way to the land of the dark elves when she met them. She worries about them, which is probably why her brain is making this bizarre connection. This man isn’t Liddel. His features aren’t as perfect, he has a scar, and the tops of his ears aren’t pointed...they are...she tilts her head, they’re round but oddly shaped, like the cauliflower ears of boxers or wrestlers.
“Miss Lewis?” he says coming forward, his English flawless and American—not like Liddel’s halting magical speech.
“We met in the park,” he says. “I think we are neighbors.”
“Ummm...yes,” says Amy, rubbing her temple. “I remember.”
Stepping a little too close he says, “We should get coffee later.”
“Coffee?” she says. Instinctively taking a small step backwards, she takes in his short, heavy, black coat, black pants and black work boots.
“Yes,” he says thrusting his hands into his coat pockets. “At 10:45.” He licks his lips nervously. “There’s a place a couple of blocks from here, just past Wabash and the train tracks.”
Amy stares at him, measuring his attire, and the way his eyes dart about. “Sure,” she says. “Sure.”
Letting out a breath of air, he takes a step closer. “Thank you. Please, don’t be late.”
“I won’t,” she says, standing her ground this time, despite the urge to flee. She won’t go at all. He’s creeping her out.
Nodding curtly, he turns and heads out the door. She watches him move up LaSalle and disappear into the morning commuters. Blinking, she steps out of the pharmacy. One of the agents from the car is waiting for her there. Together they head across the street to ADUO. The snow has melted from the ground, but the dark storm clouds that she’d thought had passed over are back overhead. She hears a distant rumble of thunder and shudders. The weather is bizarre even for Chicago.
She’s just going through the office’s revolving doors, leaving her escort behind, when it occurs to her...she never gave her name to the man who just asked her out for coffee.
She nearly sprints into the office. Steve is leaning against the reception desk, a coffee in one hand. His eyes are red and puffy and his suit is rumpled. “Steve, something weird happened!”
He rubs his eyes and smiles. “Before or after Loki tucked you in last night?”
Amy’s jaw drops, her train of thought reaches the station, but no words come out of her mouth.
Humming happily, Steve takes a sip of her coffee. Wait? Why is Steve happy? She looks around. And why are there two huge guys in black suits she’s never seen before standing outside Steve’s closed office door?
Suddenly from behind Steve’s door booms a voice that is vaguely familiar. “What the Hell were you thinking! You raided my nephew’s apartment! His wife is six months pregnant!”
There is a moment of silence. Steve swallows a big gulp of coffee—a massive girly coffee with whipped cream. “Ahhhhh....” he says with a smile.
“Um...who is in your office?” Amy asks, nodding towards the guys even she can see are body guards.
Steve’s smile widens. “Mayor Ronnie. He needed a place to speak to Jameson privately.”
“Oh,” says Amy, at the mention of Chicago’s famously outspoken mayor.
Mayor Ronnie’s voice booms through ADUO again. “Your head is so far up your ass you’re seeing daylight, Jameson!”
Steve blinks and tilts his head. “That line is inspired. I may have to use it sometime.”
There is silence from behind the closed door for a few moments and Steve frowns. “Guess we should get to your debriefing.”
They always debrief her about her run-ins with Loki. Amy takes a deep breath. Yesterday was an emotional roller coaster ride. Loki met-up with her when she was visiting her grandmother, Beatrice, at the nursing home. Loki’s showing up was the only thing that made the visit tolerable. He’d given Amy Mr. Squeakers as an apology for being an ass, and then driven her to a talk on REM sleep in Rhinoceri down at the University of Chicago on the south side. Of course the car turned out to be stolen, and of course Loki got in a minor pile up, and then they’d wound up running from the scene with Loki in drag. They hitched a ride and just made it to the lecture in time. Afterwards, they went out to drink, had a blast...and apparently Loki tucked her in.
Amy looks at her shoes. It was the best not-date date she’s ever had. Her face goes hot just thinking about how much she wanted to kiss Loki. And oh, crap, complicated lies aren’t her thing, and Steve is going to see through her. And so will Brett and Bryant. This debriefing is going to be painful.
At that moment Steve’s phone sounds. He answers it and his face becomes grave. “I’m on my way,” he says.
Exhaling, Amy’s shoulders fall in relief. The inquisition is delayed!
Steve meets her eyes. “Lewis, you’re coming with me, keep your coat on.”
x x x x
Steve and Amy are in a boxy black government-issued sedan heading towards the lake, going way too fast on Monroe.
“You said something weird happened this morning?” Steve says.
Grabbing hold of the handle above the door, Amy stares at the darkening clouds to the east. “It can wait,” says Amy. “Are those clouds falling to the ground?”
Steve just shakes his head and hits the gas.
Amy looks behind. They’re being followed by Brett and Bryant. Hernandez is already on site. They’re heading to The Cloud Gate, more popularly known as The Bean. It’s a large piece of reflective metal sculpture shaped like a kidney bean. It is the centerpiece of Millennium Park.
“What’s going on?” Amy asks.
A bolt of lightning flashes down very close and the thunder is nearly instantaneous.
“I’m hoping you can tell me,” says Steve, veering left on Michigan Avenue, tires squealing. There’s a fleet of police cars there. Steve parks illegally, turns on his blinkers and yells, “Come on!”
Amy takes a deep breath and hops out of the car. The air is still and there is thankfully no more rain or snow. But the sky is so black. From behind her comes the rawk rawk of ravens.
She suddenly has a very bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she just stares towards the steps leading up to the Bean. There are tourists and police there trying to form a line. Steve grabs her her wrist and starts pulling her forward at a jog. Whipping out his badge as he reaches the crowd he shouts, “FBI, coming through!” The crowd doesn’t give way, but Steve doesn’t let up, he just plows through, pulling Amy along with him, Brett and Bryant following in their wake.
A police officer comes forward to stop them as they pull through the police line. “Heya, you’ve got no jurisdiction here—” he starts to say. Amy’s feet slow, but Steve just yanks her towards the stairs leading to the Bean. Another police officer comes forward, this one older and heavy set. Steve still doesn’t lose his stride.
“Let him in! I know him!” says the large officer.
Falling into step beside Steve and Amy, the officer says, “Steve? You got an idea what’s go
in’ on and who the whack job is?”
“She might,” Steve says, tilting his head towards Amy. He takes off up the stairs, pulling Amy along and not slowing down at all. After a few steps the old guy huffs and says, “Well, have at it...” unable or unwilling to keep up. From the corner of her eye, Amy sees black shadows gliding from tree to tree.
There are several flights of stairs from the street level to the Bean. There are more police, trying to corral more tourists at each landing, and each time Steve barrels through the crowd. By the time they reach the Bean and the police line there, Amy is nearly falling over, her quads feel numb, and her lungs are burning. Brett, Bryant and Steve seem just fine though. The crowd is packed shoulder to shoulder. Amy can just barely see the Bean, and really can’t tell what’s going on. The two brothers fan out on either side of her, separating her from the crowd as Steve leads the charge, still dragging her forward. There are reporters yelling at police, and tourists milling aimlessly.
And then a bolt of lightning crackles through the air and flashes just a few feet away. As one body the crowd draws back. Except Steve, who charges ever onward, pulling her with such force she feels the bones in her wrist pop.
As they reach the edge of the crowd, Amy’s eyes go wide. Not more than 6 feet in front of the Bean is a chariot. In it is an enormous man with bronze skin, eyes the same color as the storm clouds above him, and long dark red hair. Wearing gleaming golden armor and a helmet with little wings, Amy recognizes him instantly. In case there could be any doubt, he lifts the hammer heavenward and shouts, “I am Thor!”
Lightning leaps from the sky to his hammer, thunder booms, and people scream. Steve looks down and says calmly. “Well, is that really him?”
Amy stares at Steve, mouth agape. “You need more proof than lightning?”
Nostrils flaring a bit, Steve snaps, “Could be any magical idiot with a lightning-summoning hammer!”