by C. L. Roman
Surt shoved himself to his feet, wincing with every movement. "Stop whimpering. At the very least this will end her search for you, or at least delay it until we can get the information we need." He limped across the floor. "I'm going to bed. Wake me when you are ready to complete our mission." Jotun stared at him and Surt halted with his hand on the door knob. "You are still committed to the mission, are you not?"
"I don't know. Something is telling me that the puny fisherman was more right than wrong."
"He is Freya's minion. He would say anything to get you on her side."
"Even if they don't know what I am doing?" Jotun's eyebrow quirked as he repeated Surt's own reasoning.
"Even then. You are a fire giant.” Jotun’s lips twisted as he threw Surt’s own words back at him. “Even if she doesn't know what we are after, she knows that we are committed to bringing Ragnarӧk to pass. She cannot afford to let us succeed." He turned and limped into the bedroom, closing the door with a decisive click behind him.
Jotun scowled and threw himself back in the chair. The remote, wedged where he had dropped it earlier, dug into his hip and he absently pulled it free from the cushions and clicked on the TV.
The well-groomed news anchor stared seriously into the camera. "Good evening. We have breaking news tonight. It seems that, less than an hour ago, Cole Delaney, breakout star of Fashion Week and his hot new discovery, Gwyneth Nephel, were attacked at his offices. We take you live to Blane-Cossering where Brenda Sinclair has the story."
The picture flashed to a reporter standing in front of a familiar scene. The ER sign glared over a half full parking lot as she tugged her coat tighter against the cold, clutching her microphone with her other hand. "Good evening Steve."
"Good evening Brenda. Have there been any updates on the condition of Cole Delaney?"
"Not yet. We were told earlier that he suffered severe lacerations to his face, as well as broken ribs and some cuts and bruises. The worst injury though, and the biggest worry now, is the head trauma which is causing swelling in his brain."
"That is terrible. How did this happen Brenda?"
"It seems that Cole and Gwyneth were stopping in at Delaney Designs to go over details for tomorrow's show and their assailant tracked them right into the studio lobby. We’ve been told that a man assaulted the security guard and, when Nephel and Delaney went to the guard's aide, they were attacked as well."
"I see. And do the police have any leads on this mad man?"
"They do. They are following up on some eye-witness..." Brenda trailed off and looked over her shoulder, her eyes widening. She smiled at the camera. "I see Gwyneth Nephel approaching the emergency room doors. Let’s see if she has an update on Cole's condition."
A tall, red-haired woman and a shorter man in a lime-green track suit pushed through the ER doors. Brenda scurried toward the doors along with half a dozen other reporters, holding her microphone out and shouting questions before they were even open.
"Miss Nephel, how is Cole?"
"Do they have any leads on the attacker?"
"Will the show continue without him?"
"Will he recover?"
Gwyneth stared at them with features that might have been carved from alabaster. "I have a statement."
The reporters stilled, microphones extended. Gwyneth looked directly into the camera and spoke.
"I have this message for the person who attacked us this afternoon. I know who you are. I know what you want. You must be stopped, for the sake of humanity. This is my promise to you. I will find you. I will stop you, no matter what it takes."
Jotun clicked the TV off. He didn't need to hear any more. He had his answer.
The reporters rushed toward her like crows toward a feast. Questions flew like wind driven feathers until Gwyneth raised a hand for silence. "I cannot answer all questions at once. You will please ask one at a time. You, in the red coat."
"Brenda Sinclair from WTFH. Are you saying you know your attacker?"
"Not personally, but I have dealt with his type before, in my own country."
Reporters shouted questions, jockeying for vocal position, but Gwyneth was still looking at Brenda and the reporter wasted no time in launching a follow-up. "Did he give you any indication of his reasons for attacking Cole?"
"He struck the security man first. It was only when Cole tried to help that he was attacked. The monster did not give a reason for his aggression."
Another reporter thrust his mic out. "Mr. Delaney, can you tell us anything about your brother's prognosis?"
Pale faced, but composed, Xavier nodded. "He is stable, for the moment, but has not regained consciousness. We are confident that he will be well again. He just needs a little time." His voice wobbled and he took a deep breath. "The family appreciates the media respecting our privacy at this difficult time. We will update you as we have news worth sharing."
Brenda stepped up. "But in your statement, Ms. Nephel, you mentioned that you knew what he wanted."
"He wants what evil always wants. To steal, kill and destroy. He does not need a reason."
From the back of the crowd a voice asked, "Might this have anything to do with your new friends Ms. Nephel? The ones you had dinner with at the fashion Gala two nights ago?"
Gwyneth looked to the back of the crowd, trying to identify the questioner. "I don't know what you mean. A woman was kind to me. I asked her to join my table and enjoyed a good conversation with her. What could that possibly have to do with this?"
The crowd parted and a newsman stepped into the light. Dark skinned and small-statured, his most striking feature was his green eyes. "So you are not aware that Admiral Conroy is head of the U.S. delegation to the international arms summit meeting in that same hotel this week? You don't find it interesting that two nights after your visit with him, you are attacked and nearly killed?"
"I was not aware of any of anything other than that the Admiral and his wife are pleasant company. And I still do not see what his occupation could have to do with me." She gave a quick glance to the other reporters, all struck momentarily silent as they digested this new information. Xavier was tugging on her hand, straining upward to whisper in her ear.
"End this. We have to talk."
Gwyneth began to back toward the hospital doors, held open by hospital security. The news flock erupted with questions, clamoring for answers.
"I have no further comments," Gwyneth said. She and Xavier ducked back into the hospital, shutting out the sense, but not the noise of the crowd outside.
Nurse Hadely met them in the waiting area. The look on her face was a strange mixture of annoyance, amazement and concern.
Xavier rushed toward her. "Is there news?"
"I'm afraid so. Cole's respiration became labored and we had to put him on a ventilator. Hopefully that will be temporary, but it is a matter for concern." She glanced over her shoulder and they followed her gaze.
Five men in uniforms were walking down the hall toward them. Leaving Hadely and Xavier behind her, Gwyneth went to meet them.
Nodding to the group, she focused on the one man she knew. "Admiral Conroy. I am pleased to see you," she said.
He gave her a polite smile. "But, I'm sure, not under these circumstances. How is Cole doing?"
"Not as well as we would like. He has not regained consciousness."
"So I understand. I want you to know that if there is any way that I can help, you shouldn't hesitate to ask."
"Thank you Sir. I hope you will forgive me, but it seems odd that the U.S. military would show up in such force to comfort me at this time. I am not even a citizen."
"But you have been very kind to my wife and, even in the short time that she has known you, she has grown fond of you."
Gwyneth looked around and spread her hands. "And yet, she is not here, but you are and so are your...forgive me, I do not know the right word, but these are your warriors, yes?"
Conroy crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes, well, they don't
let me go very many places alone these days." He cast a sardonic glance at the closest man who took a sudden, intense interest in some nearby hospital art. Conroy held a hand out to Gwyneth. "There is something I need to discuss with you though. Would you mind coming with me?"
"I can't go anywhere right now. Cole —"
The three men at the rear of Conroy's entourage stiffened, drawing her gaze. Conroy looked at them and shook his head. "I should probably rephrase. I need you to come with me. We don't have to leave the hospital and they will know exactly where to find you if there's news."
She looked at Xavier, who had come quietly to her side.
"It's ok Gwyn. I'll stay here and let you know if anything happens." He gave Conroy a hard look. "And if I can't find you when I want to, Gwyn, I know a lot of reporters right outside who will take a vital interest in your whereabouts."
Conroy frowned. "Message received, Mr. Delaney. I assure you we mean Ms. Nephel no harm. Quite the opposite, in fact."
Xavier sniffed, but he made no further protest as Gwyneth walked down the hall with Conroy.
He led the way to the elevator, and then down another corridor into a small meeting room. "The hospital has generously lent us this space for our discussion. It shouldn't take long, but I have some questions for you."
"All right." She sat down at the table and crossed her arms on it. "About what, exactly?"
"About the attack and what you know about the attacker." He sat down across from her and nodded to his assistant, who placed a briefcase on the table and popped it open.
"Forgive me; perhaps as a foreigner I have too little understanding. I had thought that the military dealt in larger affairs than an assault, no matter how violent or unwarranted, on a private citizen."
"Generally speaking, you would be correct." Conroy sighed and lifted a folder from the case. "But in this case we have come to believe that there is more to it, Ms. Nephel." He pulled an 8 x 10 glossy from the file and laid it in front of her on the table. "What do you know about this man?"
She looked. "That is Loki — Mr. Lokstrum." The picture showed Loki arguing with an extraordinarily tall woman with red hair. The woman's back was turned to the camera, but Gwyneth recognized herself, and the location, easily. "You took this at the banquet." She raised her eyebrows.
"No, or rather, yes, it was taken at the banquet, but not by me. What else do you know about him?"
"Nothing," she said, too quickly. "He is a drug rep."
"And how did you meet him?"
"He..." She hesitated.
"Here's the thing, Gwyneth. We did some checking and we can't seem to find anything at all on Mr. Lokstrum prior to about a year ago. In fact, he seems to have simply materialized, no past, no nothing except a healthy bank account and a job. Then you show up and guess what? It’s the same story, admittedly minus the bank account. And yet, here you are with a high profile job, so there's that problem solved."
"I met Loki here in the hospital. He — took an interest in me."
"I would say so. Enough to spirit you out of here without being treated."
Her jaw tightened. "I did not need treatment. It was my husband who was injured."
"Oh, yes, your husband." He placed another photograph on the table and Jotun glared up at her. "Where is he, exactly? Has he recovered?"
“You got that from my Instagram page.” Tension raced along her jaw line. "I don't know. I haven't seen him since that day."
"But you have seen Loki?"
"Yes, he has been — how is it said? Taking an interest in my career."
"A welcome interest?"
"Not really, no. He —"
"He accosted you recently in Central Park, didn't he?"
"How do you know about that?"
"There was a police report. So, do you want to tell me about that?"
She blew a short breath from between tight lips. "He wanted me to meet someone. I did not want to go."
"Who?"
"It doesn't matter. Why are you asking me all of this?"
"Are you aware that there is an arms summit being conducted in New York this week?"
She frowned. "What has that to do with me, or Loki for that matter?"
His brows rose. "So you do know."
"I only just found out. Some reporter asked me about it."
"What reporter?" His hands clenched on the file, crumpling the edges, and his assistant leaned forward and quickly pried it from between his fingers.
Gwyneth fluttered her hand in the general direction of the ER parking lot. "Out there, a little while ago. They were asking about Cole and the attack and then this reporter starts asking about an arms summit and if I thought there was any connection between it and the attack on Cole."
Conroy caught the eye of one of his men and nodded toward the door. The man rose and strode out of the room.
"And what did you tell him?" Conroy asked her.
"The same thing I'm telling you. That I had no idea what he was talking about."
"Ms. Nephel —"
"Mrs."
He tilted his head to the side and frowned. "Excuse me?"
"Mrs. I am tired of people ignoring the fact that I am a married woman."
"Of course. Mrs. Nephel." He stood and leaned toward her. Their eyes were now on the same level and he paused, clearly disconcerted, but then plowed on. "Would it surprise you to know that we can't find any record of your husband's existence prior to the night he was injured?"
She averted her gaze, staring past him out the window that took up most of the far wall. "No," she said.
"Whether you know it or not, our summit has suffered a number of security breaches. These breaches have led us to believe that an unknown terrorist organization may be attempting to disrupt the proceedings, or worse, gain access to nuclear weapons."
That pulled her startled gaze back to him. "That is awful, but I can only assure you that it has nothing to do with me."
He nodded over her shoulder at the extra men he'd brought. "We think perhaps it does. We are going to need you to come with us."
Her brows snapped together and her mouth dropped open. "What for?" She heard the men move up behind her and she stood.
"We have questions that need answers, Ma'am. Hopefully we won't have to take up too much of your time," Conroy replied.
"I apologize, but I will not be going with you gentlemen," Gwyneth said.
"I'm afraid you have no choice," Conroy replied. "Men?"
The two guards grabbed Gwyneth's arms and hustled her into the hallway. Gwyneth eyed the guard's side arms and calculated her odds.
Three armed men plus the Admiral and his sidekick, who do not appear to have weapons. On the other hand, we are headed down stairs, which is where I wanted to go anyway.
She allowed them to lead her into the elevator and waited patiently as it traveled between floors. The doors opened and she found herself staring into a pair of amused green eyes. She recognized the reporter who had asked the odd questions in the parking lot. Before she could say anything, he pushed forward, shoving a microphone in her direction.
"Miss Nephel, Sam Outlaud from WTFH." The voice was familiar, and suspicion sparked in Gwyneth's mind as the man continued. "Can you tell us anything further about your involvement in the plot to blow up the runway at Cole's next show? How will his being in the hospital affect the presentation of his new line?"
"Step aside please." One of Gwyneth's captors growled the command and made to push the reporter aside, but found himself holding the mic instead as he skidded down the polished corridor on his butt. The other officer launched himself at Loki, but came up empty as well. His head connected with the wall, giving a solid thunk as he slid into a heap on the floor.
Gwyneth spun and placed both hands on her remaining jailer's chest. "Sorry," she said, and shoved him into Conroy and his assistant, who were still standing in elevator.
By the time they picked themselves out of the tangle of arms and legs, the elevator doors were clo
sing and the reporter was rushing Gwyneth down the hall. She could hear Conroy shouting, “Keep it open! Keep it open!” as she ran.
"Loki?" She asked.
He grinned at her, but didn't answer. The first guard rolled over onto his stomach, pulling his sidearm as he moved. The shot went wide, shattering a glass display case and raining shards over the fleeing couple. Loki pushed Gwyneth in front of him and took the second shot between his own shoulder blades. He grunted and she cast an alarmed look over her shoulder.
"Keep moving," he shouted. They rounded the corner as several more shots exploded behind them.
"Cease fire!" Conroy yelled. "Are you insane? We are in a hospital!"
Alarms sounded and she could hear the pounding of feet in the side corridors. A security guard barreled down the hall toward them, holding up a hand for them to stop. Loki grabbed the man's lapels, somehow moving them both along. "I'm so glad you're here. You have to help us. Some crazy person just opened fire in the elevator. We barely escaped!"
The guard unclutched Loki's fingers from his jacket. "I'll take care of you Sir. Follow me."
"No! There are people back there." Gwyneth shouted, her arm around Loki's waist "assisting" him toward the ER. "You have to help them. I'll get this one to safety."
The guard watched the couple uncertainly, but turned to face the sound of more people running down the hall toward him.
Conroy and his assistant sprinted around the corner with the first guard. "Stop them," Conroy said. Hospital security's mouth dropped open and he spun on his heel, but it was too late. All that remained in the empty corridor was a smudge of black smoke and the smell of burning.
"You have to come with me; surely you can see that now." Loki paced the confines of his living room, wearing a new pattern into the geometry of the carpet. Through the window wall she could see the late afternoon sun settling into night, and she wondered how Cole was doing.
"Why, Loki? Why must I come with you?" She sat down, sinking into the pristine white couch without ever taking her eyes from his face.