I Bring the Fire Part III: Chaos

by C. Gockel

  “Well, that’s...” Beatrice tilts her head, her mouth open but no sound coming out.

  “Empowering?” suggests Amy.

  Claire narrows her eyes at her.

  “I’m sure you’ll have a good time,” says Beatrice quickly.

  Claire nods. “I really like ballet, so I like the choreography, and the music.”

  At that moment, the door next to Amy opens. She slides over to make room for Bohdi, carefully avoiding eye contact.

  Getting into the driver’s seat, Steve grumbles. “It’s not the top priority right now; it’s the intranet, it will be fine, we’ll fix it when we can.”

  “It’s a security threat!” says Bohdi. He has a cigarette lighter in his hand, and is agitatedly spinning it between his fingers.

  Starting the engine, Steve grumbles. “You better not light up in here.”

  Bohdi leans back in his seat, his eyes shooting daggers into the back of Steve’s head. He doesn’t pull out a cigarette, but the lighter flicks on for a moment.

  Beside Amy, Claire bites her lip. The silence is heavy as they pull out of the garage. It’s still heavy when they turn onto Adams Street. Sitting up straighter, Bohdi says, “Why are we taking this route?”

  In the rearview mirror, Amy briefly sees Steve’s eyes flick to her. “Change of scenery,” Steve says.

  Catching Bohdi scowling out of the corner of her eye, Amy turns to Claire and tries to lift the mood. “So you want to be a ballerina?”

  Claire’s eyes lose focus, and she slouches. “I’m too tall. I’m never going to be a ballerina.”

  Leaning to peer around Amy, Bohdi says, “Maybe you could play the boy’s part?” All traces of anger have left his face, now he wears a sunny smile, but he’s still playing with the lighter in his hand.

  Amy raises an eyebrow at the shift in mood.

  Steve chuckles. Claire’s mouth opens.

  “Didn’t you tell me that you’re stronger than all the boys in your class?” Bohdi says, smile still bright.

  Claire beams. “I beat everyone at arm wrestling.”

  “That’s my girl,” says Steve, a chuckle in his voice.

  They cross Halstead and are approaching a small park when Amy catches Steve’s eyes in the mirror again.

  Suddenly, Claire shrieks. “Daddy! Stop the car!”

  Steve puts on the brakes and the car slides to a stop in the snow. Before Amy’s even realized what’s happened, Claire’s unfastened her seatbelt and opened the car door. “Claire, no!” Steve cries, but she’s already taken off, long legs pumping furiously and snow flying in her wake.

  And then Amy sees what she’s running to.

  On top of a low rolling hill, surrounded by children, is a unicorn. Its white coat blurs into the snow around it, but it’s muzzle is running red with blood seeping from its horn. It’s stamping its feet, snorting and keeping its eyes on members of the National Guard and civilians at the bottom of the hill.

  “She wasn’t supposed to do that,” Steve says, jumping out of the door.

  Not really thinking, Amy follows. She’s vaguely aware of Beatrice and Bohdi following. At the bottom of the hill, Amy hears a woman say, “Please, Jimmie, please come down.” None of the half dozen children respond; they seem unusually quiet, almost mesmerized.

  At the unicorn’s side, Claire cries, “Daddy, he’s hurt! Do something!”

  “I’ll try, Honey,” Steve says. Claire turns and throws her arms around the unicorn’s neck, burying her head in its mane.

  Amy stands transfixed. Even with the blood streaming down the base of its horn, the creature is beautiful. Its muzzle is small, its eyes are wide and a deep cobalt blue. Its coat shimmers, and at this distance, Amy thinks its horn looks like it’s made of mother of pearl. She finds herself unable to breathe.

  Another man, dressed in civilian clothes, is by the Guard units. Voice clipped, he is saying, “You need to put the guns down.”

  “It tried to attack us. It’s using the children as human shields!” one of the Guard says.

  “It wouldn’t have been hurt and standing here if you hadn’t shot at it,” the man shouts.

  “It was threatening us!”

  Beside Amy, Beatrice draws close and raises the outrageous pink flower print umbrella she’s been carrying since That Day. She must have nicked it from the nursing home. Amy would suggest returning it, but Beatrice is attached to it. Amy took Loki’s book from his apartment even though she knows ADUO would consider it stealing from a crime scene—she doesn’t feel like she has any moral authority on the matter.

  “Right now you’re more of a danger to my kids than it is!” the man snaps.

  At just that moment, Steve takes a step forward. The unicorn stamps and swings its head; it’s lovely ivory hooves suddenly look sharp and menacing.

  Bohdi takes a step forward, too, and gets the same reaction. Turning to Steve he grins. “Looks like I’m not a virgin. I’m kind of relieved.”

  Not hearing, or choosing to ignore Bohdi’s clowning, Steve turns and walks back to Amy. In a low voice he says, “Miss Lewis, I know you can help it.”

  Amy’s eyes flit to Steve, her wonder turning to a bitter taste in her mouth. “Believe it or not,” she whispers, “I wasn’t watching Star Trek those days after Loki rescued me!”

  Steve tilts his head. “I’ve watched the The Last Unicorn. Isn’t it a matter of purity of heart?”

  Amy’s eyes narrow, remembering the story. “It’s a matter of belief, Steve!”

  “I know you can do this,” he says.

  Amy turns to look at the creature. “I don’t even know...” And then the scene in front of her drops away and she finds herself in a memory—Loki’s memory.

  Loki was very small, walking through a field on a bright sunny day, holding hands with Hoenir, plump and bald again. In Hoenir’s other hand is Mimir mounted on a staff. “Don’t worry, Loki, Hoenir can help it.”

  Loki’s eyes swung around, and there was a unicorn, much like this one, blood running down its horn.

  Loki darted forward, but the creature reared up, hooves flashing. Crestfallen, Loki turned to Mimir. “It doesn’t like me!”

  Mimir coughed. “Ahh...yes, well, I’m sure it knows you wouldn’t hurt it on purpose, but you do occasionally set things on fire...they tend to be afraid of anyone they know might cause them harm.”

  Amy’s jaw drops as Loki’s memory fades. “I can do this,” she whispers. She takes a step forward. Beside her, Beatrice raises the umbrella higher and the unicorn backs up with a snort. “Grandma, wait,” Amy says, putting her hand on Beatrice’s. “I’ll be okay.”

  “You better be!” Beatrice snaps, but she steps back.

  Holding up her hands, Amy walks slowly towards the unicorn. “I won’t hurt you. I couldn’t.”

  The unicorn lowers its head, and then lifts it again with a soft whinny. In her head she hears Mimir’s voice. “Unicorns are as intelligent as Jotuns, Vanir or Aesir, Loki. They are magical, and understand all the tongues of the Nine Realms, just like us, even if they can’t speak.”

  Walking slowly forward, Amy says, “I’m going to put my hand on your horn, I have to see how deep the wound is.”

  The unicorn whinnies again.

  As Amy steps up to the animal, the unicorn’s eyes follow her, enormous and trusting. It’s breathing hard; a small cloud of steam forms around its nostrils.

  “Touching you now,” she says, putting her hands on its forehead just as Hoenir had done in Loki’s memory. The unicorn’s coat is surprisingly soft, like rabbit fur. Its ears are longer and narrower than a horse’s, the hair of its forelock finer and softer. It smells clean, and pure, like snow, not like a wild animal.

  Another flash of memory comes to her. “Loki, we can tell that the injury to the unicorn’s horn is superficial. If it was deep, all the unicorn’s magic would be diminished. But see how he understands Hoenir? He is in too much pain to World Walk, but he is still enchanting.”

  Amy blin
ks. The magic matter of the unicorn is within its horn. Looking up, she notices how the horn is listing slightly to the side where the blood is bubbling out, probably pinching the delicate tissues within. Sliding her hand up to the place the blood is emerging, she feels the sharp edge of a break. With one hand, she lifts the horn. It feels lighter than she would expect. An open wound that is about half a finger width wide gapes at her. Pulling her scarf from her neck, she puts pressure on it. As she does, a wave of relief unfurls from her stomach. Other feelings rush through her, too: gratitude, fear, determination, and connection. The empathy she feels is too intense to be imagined. Amy’s not sure if it’s magical, or perhaps a chemical response to pheromones the creature is releasing. It doesn’t matter. For a moment she feels as though she and the unicorn are one being, not a unicorn, or a human, but a consciousness hovering in the space between their frail bodies. It feels like a dream of flying.

  Amy’s eyes begin to sting with tears. But for the first time since Loki’s death they are tears of wonder.

  To live in a realm wracked with chaos is to live with pain, anguishing memories, and trolls. But it is also means living with unicorns.

  She closes her eyes and smiles.

  Feeling the unicorn shift beneath her hands and a rise of anxiety, she snaps from her trance—though euphoria still lingers in her. She feels a warmth like she’s been drinking but without the daze of alcohol. She’s never felt so alert or so awake. Beside her, Claire says, “He wants to leave.”

  “Yes, but we have to make him better first,” says Amy.

  Feeling a flicker of impatience and fear from her patient, Amy knows she has to act fast. There is a right way to fix this wound, but the second best way will have to do. Turning her head, she catches Steve’s worried gaze at the bottom of the small hill. “I need cornstarch to pack into the wound,” Amy says. “Get me some as fast as you can.”

  Eyes flicking briefly to Claire, Steve nods at her.

  A few minutes later, he’s managed to get her a box of cornstarch borrowed from one of the Park neighbors. Amy works as fast as she can, but still, by the time she’s done, it’s starting to get dark.

  Beyond the top of the rolling hill the unicorn stands on, there is a sculpture in the little park. It is composed of five rectangular metal archways, each one the height of the house, all tilted at slightly varying angles. As soon as Amy drops her hands, the unicorn turns and walks towards the arches, the children and Amy at its side, the neighbors and Guardsmen behind. The unicorn walks beneath the first two arches, and then, right before the third, breaks so fast into a gallop, the children and Amy are left behind in a heartbeat.

  She hears the click of guns and cameras. But before any shots ring out, the unicorn vanishes into a flash of light.

  Around her the children cry, and the adults whisper.

  Amy stares at the empty space, and the falling snow, sad and ecstatic at once. Beatrice stands to her left. Steve, arm wrapped around Claire, stands to her right. Bohdi is just beyond them.

  “Okay,” Amy says at last. “You’ve got me. I want to be in Chicago.”

  Turning, Steve says, “You’ll stay.”

  For a moment Amy can only think of the unicorn, and almost says yes. Then she remembers painstakingly typing all of Steve’s business card contacts into the computer earlier this morning, and how she’d almost cried with the tedium of it. Not looking at him, Amy smiles. “No way in Hell. I’m going back to Oklahoma to finish my degree.”

  “But...”

  Shaking her head, Amy glances over at him. “I am not working as your secretary until that planned program at the University of Chicago gets off the ground.”

  Steve opens his mouth, but Amy cuts him off. “And I’m not applying to a school that’s closer either. I might lose credit and put off graduation even more. Forget it.”

  Steve doesn’t look precisely happy. His jaw twitches, and his face hardens, but at last he says, “Done.”

  They all stand motionless for a few more moments, and then Bohdi starts walking back to the car, the lamps lining the park walkways flickering on in his wake. Without speaking, everyone else does the same. As they do, Amy passes a notice board with a flyer emblazoned with the words “Holiday Festivities at Mary Bartelme Park.” Her eyes widen, and then narrow, remembering Steve’s phone conversation earlier.

  Minutes later, Beatrice and Claire are in the car, and Bohdi’s holding the door for Amy. Stopping short and glaring at Steve across the roof of the car she says, “You knew the unicorn was here. You set me up.”

  Steve shrugs, but there is a hint of a smile on his lips. “Maybe, but I think you liked it.” He raises an eyebrow. “You sure you want to go back to Oklahoma? Seems kind of boring.”

  Amy takes a deep breath. The mist hangs in the air in front of her. She looks at the new fallen snow. In a few hours it will be gray with exhaust fumes, but for now, the city looks fresh and clean and new. It is a brief, and welcome, respite from the grime.

  She smiles and shakes her head. “No, that’s alright.”

  With another shrug Steve slips into the car. Beside her, holding the door in one hand, and the lighter like a talisman in the other, Bohdi says, “That was amazing. What you did back there.”

  She glances up at him. She does recognize in the abstract how attractive he is—in a wide open, innocent kind of way. She is too hollow inside to feel it, though. All she feels is guilt when he looks at her with such earnestness.

  Staring down at her feet she has a realization. She has Loki’s book, and his memories. “Pretty sure chaos is going to follow me wherever I go,” she mumbles.

  Beside her Bohdi nudges the door. A ghost of a smile is on his lips. Inclining his head towards the car he says, “After you."

  Sneak Peek of I Bring the Fire IV, Tentatively called “Fates”:

  At the front desk in the ER, Steve holds up his badge. “I’m here to see Amy Lewis. She was brought in about half an hour ago. She was having a miscarriage—”

  The nurse behind the counter looks at his badge and her brow furrows. “You’ll have to wait; the doctors are in with her now.”

  “This is very important,” says Steve. It’s been only 8 weeks since Loki disappeared and he has no doubt whose baby it is.

  “Then maybe you should talk to the father,” says the nurse sharply. Pointing down a nondescript hallway, she says, “He’s in the waiting room around the corner.”

  “The father is here?” Steve says.

  “Yes, he—”

  Before she can finish, Steve is bolting down the corridor, nearly colliding with an attendant pushing a wheelchair. As he slides around the corner, his hand falls to the piece he’s wearing at his hip. He almost pulls it out before he remembers it would be useless.

  Breathing heavily, he enters the waiting room. Magic detector silent, his eyes scan over the people seated there—the only person he recognizes is Bohdi.

  Striding over to him, Steve says, “Where is he? Where is Loki?”

  Murmurs go up around them. Bohdi glances around. “I don’t know.”

  “The nurse said the father is here!” Steve says, grabbing Bohdi by the collar.

  The lights above them flicker. Meeting his eyes, Bohdi swallows. “I lied to get into the ambulance.”

  For the second time in one day, Steve resists the urge to strangle him.

  Author’s Note:

  Thank you for reading all the way to the end. I have a feeling that this particular installment is going to be hated and loved in equal measure. If you want snippets of the next installment in the adventures of Amy, Steve, and Loki, send me an email at cgockel.publishing@gmail.com or follow my blog: ibringthefireodin.tumblr.com

  Most importantly, if you enjoyed this, please let your friends, family, and the world know. Word of mouth is my most important marketing tool. And please—review!

  Other Stories By C. Gockel:

  I Bring the Fire Part I: Wolves

  Monsters: I Bring the Fire Part I
I

  Murphy’s Star