by C. L. Roman
Loki cleared his throat and opened the door, stepping back to allow her inside. Carpet in a black and white geometric pattern covered the floors, and the ice-white walls were hung with pen and ink drawings in black frames. One wall was dominated by a huge, black and silver cabinet and the opposing wall was — she blanched and shrank back.
He followed her glance and spoke in a low, soothing voice. "It’s a window, Gwyneth. It’s hard to see, but there is a sheet of tempered glass there, keeping us safe." With a firm, but gentle touch on her elbow, he urged her into a soft, white chair.
After a moment, she relaxed sufficiently to ask him to continue his explanation.
"Well, he must have gotten what we call a contact burn. That means something went wrong in the transfer. The fact that he apparently understands both English and Ancient Norse suggests that he somehow received two culture links."
She shook her head. "I don't understand."
"Think of it this way. Say you have milk and water, a bottle of each. And you have a third bottle, already half full of another liquid. If you try to pour the milk and the water into the third bottle at the same time, what will happen?"
"They will all mix together."
He smiled at her like a proud parent. "Exactly, and, if you pour quickly, some will probably spill on the ground. Even if it doesn't, the milk and water will combine with whatever is already in the container. I think something similar happened to Jotun. He touched two lights at once and got two downloads, with the information all swirled together, disorganized, some of it lost completely. Hence his mental confusion and memory loss."
"Oh Ahba," Gwyneth whispered. "This is my fault."
"How is this your fault?" he asked. She stared around the room, blinking back tears. He touched her cheek. "How is what happened to Jotun your fault?"
She snapped her gaze around to meet his. "I heard this voice. It was so commanding, and I just — obeyed. Jotun was talking about our options, or rather the fact that we had none, but I heard the voice and I stopped listening to him. I started walking toward one of the lights. He didn't..."
"He didn't hear it."
"I don't know." She shook her head. "I don't think so. What am I going to do?"
Loki stood up. "Well, right now, we are going to eat. And then we will figure out our next steps, the first of which is going to be a good night's sleep for you." He headed for the kitchen.
"Loki?"
He stopped and looked at her. "Yes?"
"Jotun was convinced we were going to perish in the Shift. He said that we had no safe landing place, with Earth flooded and Par-Adis closed to us. But you said that the lights are portals. You knew that. Why didn't he?"
Loki's smile was bitter, the edges sharp enough to cut glass. "Let's just say that the Creator likes to operate on a need to know basis."
"But, Jotun needed to know." A tear traced its silver path down her cheek and Loki stopped smiling.
"Yes, there is that, isn't there?" And he disappeared into the kitchen.
The remains of Xavier's dinner offering: seared chops, curried cumin potatoes and asparagus parmesan, sat on the corner of the desk. When Xavier couldn't get him to put the research aside, he'd insisted that Cole at least use the laptop instead of his phone.
Dinner consumed, Cole sat back in his chair and stared blankly at the screen. Xavier had gone home hours ago and the only light in the room glowed from the computer.
"How does a man get a job at PharmMedCo with no prior experience and no apparent educational background?" Cole said to the empty room. It made no sense, but every search he ran turned up zero results.
He had found Lokstrum's address easily enough through the license plate search, and Google displayed the unavoidable bio. But beyond the typical, "Single, prosperous Greenwich Village resident, works for big pharma, owns a Vanquish," there was no further indication of the man's history. He apparently appeared on the scene five years ago, fully grown, with his car keys in one hand and the apartment lease in the other.
"No way this guy is legit," Cole said. He scrubbed a hand across his face. "I've got to stop talking to myself. One of these days someone is going to answer and I'm going to have a massive coronary."
Picking up his empty wine glass, he refilled it from the decanter Xavier had thoughtfully left on the sideboard. Cole glanced at the digital readout as he flipped on the TV.
9:58. Huh. Perfect timing.
The newscast ran down the top stories of the night and Cole sat up, his wine sloshing over onto the floor without his notice.
"Blane-Cossering, New York's preeminent hospital and research center, witnessed its first giant sighting today, and an unprecedented level of patient disappearances," the anchor said in faux serious tones. The report went on to relate "unconfirmed" details of the giant's treatment, rampage and subsequent escape. "We take you now to Josh Michaels, on scene. Josh?" The view changed to a reporter standing in the half-lit darkness of the hospital parking lot.
"Yes, Steve. It’s a crazy scene here in the emergency room at BCM. As you can see behind me, a treatment room window has been broken and the room itself demolished. Channel 2 has discovered that three orderlies and four police officers attempted to restrain a man for treatment, without success. The man, reportedly a "giant," then fled through the window, but details of the escape are somewhat confused. Some say he actually sprouted wings and flew away."
"Wait a minute Josh," said the news anchor, barely restraining a grin. "Did you say, 'wings'?"
"I did, Steve. Here with me now is Damon Winter, an orderly at BCM. Tell us Mr. Winter, what did you see?"
"Oh, I wasn't in the room. But my friend, George, was, and he said that the man was about ten foot tall and he did, in fact, have wings."
"Ten feet tall? Wow, that is a big guy. So, where is George now?"
A cagey expression overtook Damon's face. "Well, he said he was tired, so he went home. You would be tired too if you was fighting giants all night."
"Mr. Winter?" The voice came from the hospital entrance. A burly male nurse walked toward the pair with grim purpose. "Mr. Winter, you know you aren't supposed to leave the ward."
Josh leaned forward eagerly. "Excuse me Sir, did you witness the altercation in that room today as George did?"
The nurse stared at him. "George?" A slow grin spread across his face and he looked at Mr. Winter. "Damon, have you been telling people about George?" He looked over his shoulder and called out, "Susan, I found him." Turning back to Mr. Winter, he said, "Now, you go with Susan, Mr. Winter and she'll fix you up with some nice pudding." Damon nodded and shuffled happily toward the waiting Susan, who took his arm and led him into the hospital.
The male nurse turned to follow, but Josh stopped him. "Excuse me, Sir? What can you tell us about George, or the situation here?"
The man looked at him. "George is Mr. Winter's 'friend'." He raised his hands to put air quotes around the word. "None of us have ever seen him, but we don't say he's imaginary as it upsets the patie— Mr. Winter." He paused a minute and his demeanor stiffened. "As for the 'situation' here as you put it, I have no comment at this time." He walked back to the hospital and disappeared inside.
Josh Michaels spun to face the camera, a plastic smile pasted on his features, mortification staining his cheeks. "Well, there you have it," he said with brittle humor. "Perhaps a bit early for April fools, but interesting, nonetheless. Back to you, Steve." The screen went black before blipping back to the newsroom, where Steve was laughing so hard he nearly fell from his chair. Straightening abruptly, he struggled to control his levity with small success.
"The news will continue after this break," he gurgled, and a commercial for adult diapers danced across the screen.
Cole set his wine glass on the table and used a napkin to sop up the spill. "No comment, hmmm? Can't say I blame them. It sounds like something out of a comic book, that's certain."
Sitting back on the couch, he flipped through channels, hitting an ad for men's
suits and another for perfume before he landed on the original channel again. Steve was back, minus the laughter.
"The series of murders in Maine continues tonight with the discovery of young girl literally in the arms of her killer. One police officer lies dead while others continue the search for the fiend who has been butchering young girls in and around the heavily forested area of Northern Maine."
The report went on, but Cole was tired and his hand throbbed as the anesthetic wore off. The image of Gwyneth's distraught face hovered in his mind's eye and he tried to shake off the unease he felt every time he thought about Lokstrum. He took a pain pill and, as he fell into bed, he was still trying to convince himself that the stress of the injury, the strangeness of events and weariness had combined to make him overly suspicious. His dreams insisted otherwise.
CHAPTER FOUR
Gwyneth's eyes snapped open to gray light and silence. In the moments before memory rushed in, she reached for Jotun and finding his place at her side empty, she felt tears sting her eyes. Her throat was dry.
A murmur sounded from somewhere in the apartment and she swung her legs out of bed, shivering slightly in the chill room. Wrapping a blanket around her she opened her door and wandered down the hall. The murmur drew her toward the kitchen and she followed.
Loki stood with his back to her, staring through the window at the pale morning while speaking into a palm-sized black box he held to his ear. "I realize that, but I don't think sh—" Loki looked over his shoulder at her. "I have to go," he said to the box. "I'll call you later."
The room was a wide oval, with a silver basin and black cabinets on one side. On the other was a series of large silver rectangles whose purpose she couldn't identify, though she thought she might recognize an odd looking pot-like thing sitting on one flat area. Something steamed and purred on the counter, emitting a wonderful, rich scent and she sniffed appreciatively.
He lifted a clear carafe filled with dark liquid from the thing and held it up to her. "Are you hungry? I can have breakfast ready in a few moments, but I'm certain you'll enjoy this in the meantime." He poured the dark liquid into a cup and held it out to her. "Careful, it’s hot."
Accepting the cup she took a cautious sip and wrinkled her nose. "It smells wonderful, but it's so bitter."
"Ah yes, like so much in this world, first impressions can be deceptive. Here, try this." He added a bit of white liquid and some white sand to the cup and stirred it.
She drank again and smiled. "Oh yes, this is good. What is it called?"
"Coffee," he replied absently. "And the white stuff is cream and sugar." He studied her for a few moments over the rim of his own coffee cup. She wore a long, taupe tunic, belted at the waist in dark brown. Last night she had worn leather sandals but now she was barefoot and, as she watched him staring at her, she tucked her feet under her chair.
She touched her hair. "What is it? Why do you stare at me so?"
"Well, you are quite lovely, you know."
She set the coffee down and pushed to her feet.
"Oh relax," he said. "As it happens I have no romantic interest in you at all. My point is this, you are a trifecta, if you will, of attributes certain to draw attention. You are beautiful, unusually tall and oddly attired. You won't be able to go anywhere without attracting notice."
She looked down at her clothing. "And I should avoid 'attracting notice,' as you put it?"
"If you want to find and help Jotun, you should." He gestured to the chair she had just vacated and Gwyneth sat down. "Drink your coffee. I'll scramble some eggs and we will formulate a plan."
"Well, the first thing, I think, is for me to learn the language of this place." She gestured to the space around her. "I don't even know what this room is called."
He laughed. "It's a kitchen, and yes, we should get you comfortable with the basics as soon as possible, but we can do that as we go. For instance, this," he pointed, "is called a table, and you are sitting in a chair."
"Kitchen," she whirled her pointer finger around her head. "Table," she slapped her palm on the flat surface. "And chair." She bounced slightly in her seat.
"Exactly. Lesson one is a success. Now, time for breakfast."
The four story brick building in the heart of the garment district had been a garment factory for its entire existence. The first three floors still housed manufacturing operations and the fourth had only recently been converted into a studio for Delaney Designs.
But Cole wasn't thinking about history as he whipped the dress from the cutting table and held it up to the light. A starburst of crystals fanned out diagonally from shoulder to hip and there were — unbelievable. There were feathers around the hem. "Xavier, I told you this fabric was perfect as it was. The line is about simplicity, elegance. Main Street, not the main drag."
Xavier clipped over and twitched the dress from his hand. "That," he said with a sniff, "is my costume for the Gender Bender at the Arcadian. You know I'm performing there Tuesday. You said you'd come."
"Oh. Sorry." Cole sat down on a stool. "I did say that, and I will be there."
Only partially mollified, his brother took a seat next to him. "How's the hand," he asked.
"It's ok. A little stiff, but not interfering too badly. How many dresses are left to finish?"
"Only four." Xavier beat a rapid tattoo on the cutting table, ending with a finger point to the assembly floor. "Marcus and Jodie are finishing them up. We are going to be ready for runway with time to spare."
Cole groaned. "Don't say that, don't jinx it."
Xavier's bottom lip stuck out. "What a pooper you are today. It's not just your hand. What is up with you?"
"I can't stop thinking about her. She'd be perfect for the new line —"
"And, of course, the fact that she is undoubtedly Fae has nothing to do with it."
"She's not Fae. The amulet didn't even twitch when she went by." He didn't mention the medallion's reaction to the man. It was probably his imagination anyway.
Xavier rolled his eyes and shrugged.
Heaving a long suffering sigh, Cole said, "Fae or not, she would practically ensure that the show is a sensation. You know the fashion world loves the new and spectacular. Anyway, the point may be moot. I looked for Lokstrum's place, and the address is fake. It doesn't exist."
"You are kidding me." Round-eyed, Xavier stared at him. "That is so weird."
"That has to be deliberate, and just one more piece of evidence against this guy. You don't give the DMV a fake address if you're on the up and up."
"Oh come on. It's got to be a mistake. Like a data entry error or something."
"Yeah, data entry," Cole said, staring over Xavier's shoulder out the long row of windows facing the street.
Xavier followed his glance. "What?" he said.
"It was her! I just saw her. Wait here." Cole grabbed his jacket and raced for the elevator, jabbing the button four times before the doors closed, but not before Xavier slipped in next to him, panting.
"If you think I'm going to miss meeting a giantess, you are out of your mind," he said, smoothing his tunic flat.
The two sprinted through the lobby and into the street, narrowly avoiding a fast moving dress rack pulled along by a skinny black kid. Cole pushed onto his toes and craned his neck in the direction she had been headed. "There!" he cried, and set off, weaving through the crowded thoroughfare at a trot. "Excuse me, excuse me," he said, slipping through gaps in the foot traffic he never would have attempted normally.
For a moment he thought he'd lost her, but then, three awnings ahead, he caught sight of her, literally head and shoulders above the crowd. "Miss!" he shouted. Not a single person turned around, though several stared at him as they passed. "Miss, wait!" He darted around a rack of furs with Xavier right behind him.
"Don't yell at her Cole, you'll scare her to death."
Cole spared him a single glance but kept moving as he remembered her demeanor in the ER. "Nothing scares this one. I just don't
want to piss her off."
Ahead, he could see her staring into a shop window as the man beside her gestured, speaking animatedly. Mindful of Xavier's warning, he paused to compose himself, lurching forward as the couple seemed about to enter the store.
"Wait, Miss," he said and as she turned to look at him with curious eyes, he noted that she had changed her rustic garb for a modern maxi-dress and ballet flats. A little cloth pouch depended from a chain belt around her waist. The dress was a bit tight, and several inches too short, but these flaws did nothing to detract from her beauty. "I saw you in the ER last night. You and your husband. Is he ok? Have you found him?" She stared at him, clearly not understanding a word. She turned to the man beside her and raised her eyebrows.
"He says," the man spoke in a language Cole had never heard before. "That he saw you and your husband at the hospital. Do you know him?"
She shook her head. "Please tell him that I am sorry, but I don't remember him. So much is a blur from last night. Has he seen Jotun? Does he know where he is?"
Lokstrum turned to Cole. "She says she is sorry but she doesn't remember you. She thanks you for your interest in her and Jotun, but she must go now."
Cole frowned as the medallion at his wrist pulsed with dull heat. "Your tone says you are asking a question, but your words are making a statement. What are you doing?"
Loki's answering smile was vicious. "Protecting my interests, just as you are protecting yours, I suspect." He looked up at Gwyneth. "He regrets that he does not have any information about Jotun. He says he is glad you are well, but he must go now."
She smiled at Cole and turned to enter the store but Cole grabbed her arm. "Wait," he said. Gwyneth turned around, staring at his hand. Her gaze traveled up to his face and his hand dropped away from her. "I'm sorry, I just — I wanted to offer you a job."
Loki's face flushed and a heavy frown replaced his smile. "You should have walked away, boy." To Gwyneth he said, "He says he'd like to take you out for a drink." Gwyneth frowned in confusion, and he continued. "Here, men and women share outings called dates, when they are romantically interested in each other. He has just asked you out on a date."