by C. L. Roman
Dust crawled out of the nooks and corners to skitter across the floor. It flew into a filthy cloud, spinning tighter and tighter around the rapidly assembling figure. It filtered through the twisted wood, filling in the crevices, packing it tight. Eir kept humming and tore a broad piece of fabric from the bottom of her tunic. She stretched the fabric and it grew in her hands until it was the size of a bedsheet, and she threw it at the figure.
There was a flapping sound like wet laundry in a dry wind and the hum quieted to a whisper. The cloth molded itself to the wooden sculpture, giving it skin. White faced, Eir drew Gwyneth from her box and advanced on her creation.
The hum changed to mumbling, but Gwyneth couldn't understand the words. Her mouth rounded into a soundless scream as Eir carried her closer to the apparition. It stood before them, blank faced, featureless but somehow horrific and menacing at the same time.
"Do not scream my dear. You will wake it too soon." Eir whispered, and then used Gwyneth to draw a line of blood across her own palm. She tucked Gwyneth under the strap of her tunic and Gwyneth could feel the warm stickiness of Eir's blood along her blade.
Eir raised her palm and chanted faster as she pressed her bloodied hand to the statue's face. When she took her hand away the thing had a face. The eyes and lips were closed as if in sleep, but the nostrils flared with each arcane breath it took. Eir darted to the lintel and pried free a palm size piece of stone. Standing in front of the figure once more, she raised the stone in one hand and pulled Gwyneth from her leather tie with the other.
"Remember, keep quiet," she whispered, and then she stabbed her creation in the chest, quickly carving out a chunk of its surface and lifting it aside. She thrust the stone into the cavity and slapped the missing piece back into place, all the while continuing her guttural chant.
Gwyneth stared at the creature. Blood smeared its face and torso. The arms and legs were emaciated and dry. It did not look like a living human, until it blinked at her, and smiled. The chanting stopped.
"I am not your color, I think, but hopefully the Master will not know that." Eir said weakly, and plucked several blond strands from her own head. She laid them carefully along the golem's hairline where they took root, thickened and grew into a full head of blond curls. Holding Gwyneth up to the thing's eye-level, she said, "Look and become."
The face contorted, its skin writhing, reforming until it was like looking in a mirror. The body plumped to match Gwyneth's curvier form and her height. In moments Gwyneth was staring at a naked, blond version of herself.
"She'll need some clothes," Eir said. "I will be right back." She set Gwyneth on the table and stumbled from the cell, returning moments later with a long green gown, a belt and shoes. She held them out to the creature. "Dress yourself in these."
The golem inclined its head. "Yes mistress." It dressed with spare, economical movements and then tilted an inquiring look at Eir.
She waved it toward the bench. "Sit down and wait for my command." Eir looked at Gwyneth. "She will obey commands, but they must be exact and simple. You cannot simply say, 'cook the food', you will confuse her as she will not know which food or how you want it cooked, even if there are only potatoes and an iron skillet on the table. You cannot say, 'open the window.' She will just put her fist through and it will be open."
"All right." Gwyneth's voice wobbled and she couldn't take her eyes from the creature.
"Gwyneth," Eir's voice cracked in the still air and Gwyneth gave her a startled look. "We two are the only ones she will obey. My blood and your blade have created her, given her life. Now, she has immense strength and speed, but she will only last about a day."
"Is that going to be enough?"
"I hope so. If we work quickly and are very, very careful, it should be enough to get us all out of here. If not —" She spread her hands, palms up and shrugged.
"Why are you doing this?"
Eir's smile held an age of sorrow and exhaustion. "Because I want to live. I want these boys to live and I want the Earth to be there for us to live in. As far as I can see, you are the only one who can help Jotun and prevent Ragnarӧk besides the Creator. And who knows what he is likely to do? So I will help you, and hope that fits with His will."
"All right. I understand. What do we do next?"
"Next I tell you my plan, while Loki tries his. When his backfires, we try mine."
Half an hour later, the door sprang open and they were out of time.
Firelight danced across the black walls in sensuous, red rhythm, giving the animal heads mounted around the room a macabre illusion of movement. All manner of wild life was represented; lion, antelope, Indian elephant, rabbit, human. Row upon row of decapitations studded the room's four walls. Beneath the heads were display cases filled with weaponry. Daggers, swords, maces. Implements that served the needs of hunter, warrior and torturer alike filled case after case encircling the room. And the room was huge.
Scattered along its length were black leather couches and ebony wood tables, each set with a board game of some kind. Chess, Latrunculi, Mancala, Senet, and a host of others from every age and culture of man, each with its attendant pieces, dice or cards, were in evidence. Two males sat opposite a cross shaped Patolli board. The man on the left had a pile of perhaps ten coins. The man on the right's coins spilled over the edge of the table and onto the white bear skin rug beneath their feet. Neither man appeared concerned by the imbalance. The silence between them was only lightly tinged with bloodlust. Unnoticed by the room's occupants, a mouse crept along the baseboards.
"So, Molek, how did your visit with Semiramus go?" The winner said, naming the other demon's daughter, a half demon and reigning queen of Babylon. He leaned back and pulled a cigarette from a gold case, tapping it several times against the closed case before raising it to his lips. His opponent picked up an ornate lighter from the table and offered a light, which was accepted without comment.
The mouse took advantage of the pair's absorption to scurry across the floor to one of the tables. He took up residence among the pieces of a chess set.
"As well as can be expected, Sire. I relayed your message. She gave no sign that she recognized me."
Lucifer sighed and rolled the dotted stones that served the game for dice. "Sounds like she's still mad. Still, you got to appreciate a woman who can keep a grudge this long. Shows she has spine."
"More than her mother ever did." The game continued in silence for a moment until Molek ventured a glance at his master's face. "Still, I would have thought motherhood would soften her."
Lucifer snorted. "Mothers are only soft toward their kids, and then only sometimes. Did you see him?"
"I did. He is healthy and intelligent. A likely child with good blood."
"And how would you know that?" Lucifer's words were a long, thin hiss of sound and Molek stiffened.
"I did not touch the child. I only meant that he appears to have the best elements of both his mother and his father's heritage."
Lucifer's talons rapped out a staccato rhythm on the arm of his chair.
After a moment, Molek said, "Has there been any word from Loki?"
The tapping stopped and a slow grin spread across Lucifer's face. "As a matter of fact, there has. I got a call about an hour ago that he's bringing the girl here tonight."
"That is excellent news," Molek smiled and relaxed as his master did. "The plan can go forward then."
"Yeah, and with any luck, we can begin the second phase too. There's more of them than I thought there would be. Scattered across history like gumdrops and most of them have no idea what they are." Lucky took a deep drag of his cigarette and held out his hand. A wine glass materialized, filled with Madeira sparkling in the firelight.
"My calculations were on target then." Satisfaction frosted Molek's tone and Lucifer frowned. Noticing his expression, the lesser demon hurried past his mistake. "So, Loki has been successful at last?"
"According to him, yes. Of course, he'll have to prove it
by showing up with her on a string. But I think he's got enough incentive that he won't back out now."
"I'm sure he does." A sly smile darkened Molek's features. "But he certainly has taken long enough about it."
Lucky nodded. "He was probably trying to think of a way out. Loki's like that. Always figuring the angles."
"He is known as the Trickster, in certain circles," Molek said.
"Well, he's about done playing tricks on me. He's still pushing the idea that I give back the boys." A shout of rusty laughter burst free of Lucky's lips. "Like that's ever gonna happen." He took a swig of the wine and set the cup on the table.
Rising, he went to a display case resting under an African elephant's head. Inside was a display of African hunting knives, their wickedly curved edges glinting in the light. Lucky laid his palm on top of the case and one of the blades appeared in his hand. "I think maybe tonight Loki will be leaving us. Permanently."
Molek stood, staring fixedly at the knife. "He might still be useful Sire. He is a very clever individual."
"I got lots of clever guys in my house, Molek. You're one of 'em. His kind of clever, I don't need. He's just like Surt, always eye'in what's mine and making plans to take it from me."
A knock sounded at the door, accompanied by a muffled voice requesting entry. Lucifer's face went still, his eyes blank, his breathing stopped. Molek's hands clenched as if fighting an invisible battle, but he held his place. A heartbeat later, Lucifer began to breathe again.
"Speak of the demon, Surt has decided to pay us a visit." Motioning to Molek, he indicated the game table and the two sat. The dagger flashed as Lucifer flipped it in his hand — blade, hilt, blade, hilt — before stabbing it into the arm of his chair with a solid thunk. He raised his voice, calling, "Come."
The door banged open and a demon of medium ugliness stepped inside. "Master, I have important news."
"Important to who?" Lucifer leaned back in his seat, his eyes never leaving the board. He reached out to move a game piece.
Surt trained his gaze on the floor and shuffled forward. "Important to you Master. A member of the Host is loose in your domain. He has Shift sickness."
Lucifer's hand froze. He lifted his eyes to study Surt, brows raised. "Shift-sickness? When is he, and what are his symptoms?"
"New York, modern era. Jotun thinks he is a fire giant. He plans to steal nuclear weapons and use them to carve out his own kingdom."
"How inconvenient," Molek said, his features tightening.
"Yeah, you could say that," Lucifer said and eyed Surt with disdain. "So, kill him and be done with it."
Surt shuffled his feet, his gaze flitting from object to object around the room. "I — Jotun is older, stronger than I am." He coughed roughly. "I may not be able to overcome him and the risk is great. I need help."
Flames hissed in the torches as Lucifer completed his move, collecting his winnings in the same motion. "Ok. So where is he now?"
"I am not sure. He threw me out when I told him about attacking Freya and I —"
"You attacked Freya?" Lucifer turned to look directly at the lesser demon for the first time. "You know where she is?"
"N-n-no, only a human who looks like her. Jotun thought she was Freya. I knew —"
"Shut up." Lucifer raised his hand, palm out, and cut off Surt's air along with his speech. "So, here's what I'm thinking. You're gonna go find Jotun and when you do, you call Molek. He'll come and back you, take the boy out if necessary." He eyed Surt, whose face was a dusky purple by this point. With an irritated huff, Lucifer lowered his hand and Surt collapsed, gasping, to the floor. "Deal?" Lucifer said.
"Deal," Surt wheezed.
"And, in return for my help, you will do three jobs for me, to be named later." He waved Surt out the door and the demon went, rubbing his throat as he closed the door.
"You don't believe him, do you?" Molek asked. "A member of the Host plotting to take over a country? Even with Shift-sickness, it’s against their basic nature."
"From Loki's report, it’s not far off the truth."
Molek smirked. "You already knew. Of course."
The ghost of a smile lifted Lucifer's lips. "Yeah, I knew. But Surt left a few things out. Like that the plan was his, and he fed Jotun this delusion so he'd help him. So, now you got two, maybe three targets. Don't kill the angel unless you have to. You can deal with Surt however you want, but Loki? He's done." He plucked the knife from the chair-arm and held it out.
"Understood," Molek said, accepting the knife. "But why show clemency for Surt, and none for Loki?"
"Surt's too stupid and weak to be a real threat. Plus, he owes me now. And I always collect. But Loki? He's sly, shifty. He can't be trusted."
"A regrettable truth, Sire."
"Yeah, regrettable. But mostly for him." Lucky's rusty laugh boomed from his mouth, bouncing off the walls and making the torchlight shiver. It echoed in the room, growing until the air was thick with it, almost unbreathable, and still the horrible sound went on.
The mouse scurried down the table leg and out of the room. Its heart clattered in its tiny chest until it thought the organ might burst. Down black halls and steep stairs it ran, further and further into the cold, bleak dark, away from the laughter and the evil that created it. Finally it could run no more and it stopped, shuddering, huddled up against the stone wall. Its fur glowed darkly, then disappeared, absorbed into dark cloth and pale skin as the mouse transformed into the shape of a man. In a few moments, Loki stood, chest heaving, struggling to regain his breath and his self-control.
He threw a glance over his shoulder as he fled down the passage, arriving in a few moments outside the cell he had left only an hour before. Several of the torches had gone out but there was enough light to see that he was not alone. He skidded to a stop before the dark figure leaning against the closed door. A rhythmic slapping sound filled the damp air.
Loki snapped his fingers and fire sprang from the tips into three of the sconces, shedding a yellow, unreliable light on the area. "Only you would stand around in the dark instead lighting a torch, Heimdall. What are you doing here?"
"My job, thanks to you." Heimdall's voice sounded like metal dug from a deep pit and never scraped clean. The meaty slap of wood on flesh came from the club he held, its smooth surface embedded with nodules of rusting iron.
Loki's lip curled. "Still carrying that thing around Heimdall? I would have thought you would at least smooth it out some, give it a little polish."
"The Master is expecting you upstairs." Heimdall slapped the club into his palm again.
"I've already seen him. He sent me to tell you to attend him and that I am to take the boys to the surface for a bit of father/son bonding."
A slow smile spread across Heimdall's lips and he straightened away from the wall. "You are lying, just as you lied about the message from Odin. And now, finally, I am allowed to punish you as you deserve." He took a step toward Loki, eyes gleaming.
"I know nothing of any message from Odin." Loki smoothed his cloak down his arms, palming his dagger beneath the concealing folds. "And it so happens that I am not lying."
Heimdall eyed him with suspicion. "You are. I can tell by looking at you."
"A minute ago you thought I was a messenger from Odin. Never going to happen, by the way. Odin said he was done with you and I have no doubt he meant it."
A growl started in Heimdall's chest and climbed to his throat. Loki gripped the knife tighter and said, "Look, I just came from the game room where the Master is playing at Patolli with Molek. He was winning, of course, so he was in an excellent mood. I considered it a good time to ask for a favor and he granted it." He swept his cloak aside and bowed slightly at the hip, his knife hand concealed behind his back. "Hence my presence here."
Heimdall stopped. "My orders are to bring you to him." The smack of polished wood into his palm echoed along the corridor once more. "And he didn't seem too concerned with your condition on arrival."
"We
ll, things change, don't they? And you always were the last one to know."
"I still think you're lying." A slow flush rose from Heimdall's chest and traveled rapidly to his hairline. "If you aren't, then tell me this, how did you save yourself this time?"
"He brought the girl, you oaf. Now get out of the way and let us pass." Eir shoved at Heimdall from behind, pushing the boys in front of her as she came. Screaming with glee, the twins rushed passed the guard and launched themselves into Loki's arms.
Heimdall lurched to one side, gaping at the young woman following on Eir's heels, golden head bowed, hands clasped in front of her. He was so taken by her that he completely missed Loki's reaction. The trickster's jaw dropped and his knees nearly buckled, but he recovered before his enemy took notice.
Face slack with amazement, Heimdall turned to Loki. "How did you catch a Valkyrie?"
"I didn't, you idiot." Loki rolled his eyes. "This is Gwyneth."
Heimdall choked. "The Nephilim?" He slanted the woman a speculative look. "Has she ascended?"
"No." Loki shifted, bouncing the children in his arms. "Look, Eir, the Master said I could have some time with the boys. But he wants me to bring her up first. Can you take them upstairs and I'll meet you there?"
"Of course, I —"
Heimdall gave Loki a sly grin and laid his hand on the girl's arm. "I'll take her up."
"What a kind offer." Loki's eyes became slits of suspicion. "How very unlike you."
"I’m not doing it for you. Váli and Nari are good boys and they've been missing you. Try and be a decent father for once. Take the boys up yourself."
"While you steal half the glory for bringing Gwyneth to him. I don't think so." Loki reached out as if to pull the human away from Heimdall, but the demon grinned and shoved her behind him, out of reach.
"And how will you stop me? Seems like you owe me and this is just partial payment."
"I owe you nothing," Loki said, pulling the dagger into the dim light. "Your pride and stupidity landed you here. You're lucky it didn't get you destroyed. Now give her back."