What he had done with Odin’s manifestation was proof enough of that. Perhaps he was not so unlike Loki as he had always seemed. Perhaps a beast lay in wait behind Danny’s blank-slate eyes. And since the other beast was still at large …
Loki let the chair slam back to the floor. Miss Jones gasped. “Get Danny ready, Miss Jones,” Loki said, straightening his suit as he rose. “We are going for a walk.”
Ten minutes later the nurse had Danny dressed and in his stroller, one made especially for an older child. Danny was thoroughly warded against the day’s chill, though the afternoon had been clear and the temperature a few degrees above the recent average. Most of the sidewalks and streets were still slick with ice, and the aftereffects of the earthquake were visible everywhere. Tow-trucks and public works vehicles far outnumbered private automobiles and taxis, which were hopelessly jammed together as their drivers negotiated obstacles ranging from traffic cones to impressive holes in the streets.
Nevertheless, the life of the city continued, and intrepid mortals always found ways of acquiring what they needed. Or wanted.
Loki found the walk quite pleasant. He wore a very casual, ready-to-wear suit that had cost a mere $7,000, a green scarf that perfectly matched his eyes tucked ascot-style under the lapels, and an open overcoat he didn’t need but which beautifully completed the effect he wished to create. He wore his classic fur felt fedora at a rakish angle, but he could have worn rags and the attention he received would have been no less appreciative.
The only thing to ruin the effect was that the cane he carried was not Gungnir. And that should also be restored to him very soon.
A number of attractive women, and more than a few men, paused to coo over Danny, only to realize he was not a “proper” child at all. Those who revealed their consternation tended to take rather bad falls on the sidewalk as they walked away, or find themselves with uncontrollable failures of their digestive tracts.
They would not mock his son.
He smiled, signaled to the limousine that had been following at a discreet distance—finding its way through stalled traffic with an ease that would have astonished any observant mortal—and instructed the driver to take them to the modest neighborhood known as Dogpatch. The driver let them off at the small park, with its ragged deciduous trees and few battered pines. Miss Jones, bundled to unrecognizability under her down coat, adjusted Danny’s blankets and fussed at his cap before preceding Loki toward Twentieth Street.
It took a little effort, but since Danny had been almost entirely responsible for the attack on Mist’s headquarters, Loki still had enough magical energy to shroud himself, Miss Jones, and Danny in a spell that made them seem quite ordinary to those Mist had set to watching for enemies. The first of Mist’s allies he encountered was a large man with a scruffy beard worthy of a Jotunn. Loki simply made him look the other way.
When he, Miss Jones, and Danny turned onto Twentieth Street, Loki quickly spotted two more of Mist’s “Einherjar” patrolling the area on foot. They ignored him. At the corner of Illinois Street he met Mist’s newest acquisition, the voluptuous Rota, dressed in black leather that was highly suggestive of dominatrix sensibilities. She was walking toward a red Jaguar parked at the curb when she noticed him. She paused for a moment, frowned …
And looked right through him.
He admired her full, swaying posterior as she continued toward the car, and then led Miss Jones and Danny back to Twentieth. It was only a matter of minutes before Dainn arrived.
There was no doubt as to what was on the elf’s mind. He charged toward Loki, head down, black hair flying behind him, already half beast even before the transformation began.
“Calm yourself,” Loki said, remaining perfectly still. “I am not here to squabble, my Dainn. Only to talk.”
With obvious effort, Dainn slowed and stopped, keeping two yards’ distance between them. “Where is Anna?” he demanded, his breath rasping in his throat.
“That is hardly a proper greeting for a friend,” Loki said. “We have plenty of time to discuss your current predicament.”
“Friend,” Dainn spat.
“Of course. Mist is still alive, is she not?”
To his surprise, Dainn remained perfectly still. His dark gaze pierced Loki’s with open hatred and then flickered to Miss Jones in surprise.
“Ah, you have met before,” Loki said, knowing very well that they had.
“Are you a prisoner?” Dainn asked the nurse.
Miss Jones shook her head. “No, sir.”
Loki smiled approvingly. It was a measure of Miss Jones’s earnest desire not to be punished that she had learned to be extremely convincing.
“The boy,” Dainn said, his gaze dropping to Danny’s nearly invisible face. “Is he safe, Miss Jones?”
“Yes, Mr. Dainn,” the woman murmured. “Safe as houses.”
“Thank you.” The elf’s hard eyes met Loki’s again. “You could not have killed Mist,” he said, as if there had been no interruption in their conversation. “She defeated your monster.”
“No,” Loki said, “not if my observers are to be believed. Mist’s forces were disorganized and supremely ineffective, but you”—he clucked in admiration—“you did something quite remarkable. I’m rather glad that the viper you fought was not actually my son.”
“Mist did more than—“
Loki raised his hand. “Do you really seek to convince me that she is an amazing adept capable of single-handedly routing such a creature? Because then I might be forced to consider her a truly worthy enemy, and that might be extremely dangerous for our Valkyrie princess.”
The elf trembled with the effort to hold himself in check, fully aware of the game Loki was playing. And that there was no way for him to win.
“Yes, I am aware that she has considerable power of her own, independent of her mother’s.” Loki said. “Just not quite enough.”
“Are you here to gloat over what you have done to this city?”
“It wasn’t my doing,” Loki said.
Dainn laughed.
“No, truly. As admirable a feat as it was, the serpent’s appearance at Mist’s loft was not my work.”
“It was Jormungandr. You are responsible.”
Loki strolled around Dainn, his hands behind his back. “And how can I possibly summon Jormungandr, when all the bridges are closed?”
The outlines of Dainn’s body seemed to quiver like a dancer caught in a strobe light. “You know it was only a manifestation.”
“Only? Quite an effective one, then. My kudos to its creator.”
“Where are Anna and the raven?” Dainn demanded.
Loki clucked his tongue. “Do you truly suppose I would tell you if I had such information, my handsome elf?”
“You don’t have them,” Dainn said, his eyes narrowing.
“Don’t I?”
“I know you too well.”
“If only you did.”
Dainn expelled a sharp breath. “What is your purpose here?”
“Why, to inquire after your health, and to congratulate you. And to reassure myself that your friendship with Mist has not been … shall we say, ‘strained’ by recent events.”
Dainn clearly understood his meaning. “Did you expect her to reject me?” he asked.
“Not really. She is made of stern stuff, our girl. But I know that seeing you that way was a blow to her. She knows you deceived her, and you could not expect your relationship to remain what it was.”
“There was never any relationship to damage.”
“Ah.” Loki rocked on his heels. “Still such a poor liar. Tell me, how did she handle Svardkell?”
Dainn’s fingers curled into claws. “You knew who he was,” the elf accused. “You sent him to Mist deliberately, and set a spell on him to attack her.”
“Yes, I have been aware of his identity for some time. I allowed him to continue his charade out of curiosity. He refused to admit he was working for Freya, or explain wh
y he had hidden himself among the Jotunar I brought from Ginnungagap. Remarkably sturdy, that one.” Loki tilted his hat a fraction of an inch. “As I never permitted him access to any information he could turn against me, I thought Mist might like to meet her father.”
“How did you discover that Svardkell was Mist’s sire?”
“I kept myself informed about Freya’s lovers in Asgard, even those she preferred to keep confidential. Of course I always knew that Mist was Freya’s daughter, and it amused me to discover which of her many inamorati had planted the seed.”
“What else did you know of him?”
“Why this interest, my Dainn?” Loki asked, suffering a rare moment of consternation. “Surely you and he had little time to become acquainted.”
“Your spies must have told you that he wasn’t dead when Mist defeated him. Either your spell or your calculations must have gone awry.”
“How long did he remain alive before Mist was forced to kill him?”
Dainn gave himself away with the slightest twitch at the corner of one eye. “He spoke to her before he died,” Dainn said.
“Of his undying paternal devotion?”
“About how you made him attack her. You failed to make certain that she would take the whole blame upon herself.”
“And yet she does blame herself, does she not? Even if she despises her Jotunn blood, she never knew a father’s love.”
“Surely you could have found a better way of using the relationship to your advantage?”
“I could hardly expect you to believe any false intelligence I might force him to impart.”
Dainn studied him intently, and Loki realized that Dainn well knew that the Jotunn was not supposed to have spoken at all. “What is it, Laufeyson?” Dainn asked, taking a step toward Loki. “What more did you know about Svardkell?”
There was some puzzle here, Loki thought. A dangerous one.
“I truly do not understand you,” he said.
“Then perhaps I can improve your comprehension.” He bared his teeth and moved toward Loki with a big cat’s lethal grace.
Loki raised his hand. The still-unhealed scar of their Blood-oath stopped the elf as surely as a rampart of ice eight feet thick.
“Perhaps our original agreement is no longer in effect,” Loki said, “but you cannot deny that something still binds us. You will not harm me today.”
The elf shuddered violently. “Do not expect that to protect you forever.”
A charged silence hung between them—charged with more, Loki knew, than simple hate.
“In that case,” Loki said, “might I ask a question before I die?”
“Only one, Slanderer?”
In spite of himself, Loki felt a stab of anger at the insult. “I only mean to compliment you on your success in preventing Freya from seizing Mist’s soul after she left our little party the other night. How did you achieve it?”
An expression of genuine confusion crossed Dainn’s face before he took himself in hand again. “Mist was never in any danger.”
“Oh, but I think she was. Freya nearly had her. But sometime between her departure and your return to Mist’s loft, she was gone and Mist was herself again.”
“Freya was weak.”
“Ah.” He smiled. “I don’t think that was the case at all. I think you did effect the separation, and you don’t know how you did it. And I believe you still haven’t told Mist of your part in the Lady’s thwarted scheme.”
Dainn had never done a better job at trying to conceal his emotions, and he failed utterly. The muscles in his jaw flexed, and the pulse beat hard at the base of his throat.
“Well,” Loki said, “perhaps she won’t return. Perhaps her services are no longer required, and Odin will pop up at any moment to take the reins.”
“But you don’t believe that,” Dainn said, his voice hardly more than a rasp.
“If matters were so simple,” Loki said, “it would never have been a game worth playing. Let us say that I believe the All-father would already be here if matters in the Shadow-Realm are as Freya described them to you. Perhaps Odin is inconveniently … tied up.”
Dainn stared into Loki’s eyes. “What is your meaning?”
“Only that things are not always what they seem, and Freya is a very good liar. But you know that, my Dainn. And now I would very much like to return to a more pleasant subject.” He nodded to Miss Jones, who had remained as frozen as one of the snowmen some ambitious children had built in the park. “I hope, my dear elf, that you will allow me to make known to you my pride and joy.”
Miss Jones bent to fold Danny’s blankets away from his face.
Dainn’s reaction was all Loki could have wished for. The ferocity drained out of his face, and looked up at Loki with growing realization in his eyes.
“Who is this boy?” he asked.
“Why, I believe you met my son when you came to stare at my house, but so uncharitably neglected to call on me.”
“Your son?” Dainn whispered.
“Why does that surprise you? I have proven myself fully capable of producing a wide variety of offspring. Not all my children are monsters.” He gazed tenderly down at Danny’s glassy eyes. “Perhaps you have forgotten Narfi, whose entrails were used to bind me under the serpent when the Aesir saw fit to torment me for centuries on end.”
“You deserved torments only the Christian’s Yahweh could devise.”
“I am not here to argue,” Loki said mildly, refusing to let his pleasure be dampened. “You are clearly not as shocked as you pretend to be. Perhaps you guessed at the truth when you met Danny before?”
Dainn sank to his knees before the stroller, his eyes intent on Danny’s face. Danny showed no sign of recognition.
“What did you do to him?” the elf asked, his pupils expanding alarmingly.
“He was born as you see, and I have taken good care of him.”
“Born in the Void?”
“Where else?”
Dainn reached out as if he would touch the boy but quickly withdrew his hand. “This is not a child of the Jotunn woman Angrboda,” he said.
“You know that that good lady and I haven’t dallied for a long while now,” Loki said. “And Sigyn—” He shrugged. “She was never worthy of me.”
“The one who bore him must have had many virtues unworthy of you.”
“Oh, she does, I assure you.”
“If I had the means—” Dainn began.
“To take him away from me? Perhaps you would rather return with me and have a proper visit. Miss Jones said he did seem rather fond of you on that previous occasion.” Loki reached out, brushing his fingertips across Dainn’s face. “My poor Dainn. You have chosen Mist over Freya—even over Midgard—and yet you are still so far from finding the peace I know you seek. I once offered you the chance to join me in defeating Freya and keeping Mist safe from all harm. I offer that chance one last time.”
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Dainn jerked his head away. “What did the mortal genius Einstein say of insanity?” he asked. “That it consists of doing the same thing again and again and expecting different results.”
Loki sighed and shook his head. “Sometimes I can make no sense of you, my Dainn. I still hold every obvious advantage, and several more of which you are entirely unaware. I am very close to opening a bridge to the Void. I have resources on this mortal plain you will not be able to match in a year.”
“The Aesir—“
“Are not here. Where are Mist’s mortal allies? Those pathetic bikers? Three Valkyrie? What of the Treasures?”
“Where are yours?”
“They will come to me, like everything else. You clearly have no idea how you kept Freya from claiming Mist, and you have no confidence that you can protect her if the Lady returns. What more can you do for her?”
“I can die for her.”
“And that is why I am so fond of you. That stubborn, blind nobility, fatally flawed though it may be.” He smiled. “When it
comes to surrender, as it must, you know what will incline me toward mercy.”
Dainn turned his back and began to walk away.
“Dainn!” Loki called after him. “Don’t make the mistake of telling Mist of our conversation. Those who have seen me will not remember, and I would hate to see our Valkyrie act on another dangerous impulse.”
Moving faster than any earthbound creature had a right to, Dainn rounded the corner.
“I think Danny’s cold, Mr. Landvik,” Miss Jones said in a surprisingly firm voice.
“We won’t keep him out any longer,” Loki said. “My business here is done.” Loki bent to kiss his son’s pale forehead. “Twice,” he murmured, straightening again. “The third time will be the charm. And then, my son, all will be as we wish.”
The boy tilted his head and stared directly into Loki’s eyes. “Brother,” he said clearly.
Jerking back, Loki nearly stumbled. He glared at Miss Jones, who quickly glanced away, and then looked at his son again.
“Yes,” he said. “You brought your brother here, and did a very fine job of it, too.”
“Brother,” Danny repeated, more insistently. The ground quivered ever so slightly beneath Loki’s feet.
“Hush,” Loki said. “I cannot reach your real brother yet.”
“Brother.”
“You shall have all your siblings with you soon,” Loki said. “Angrboda’s children. They will all love and care for you, as I do.”
Danny shook his head. “Not them.”
Kneeling beside the stroller, Loki took the boy’s cold hand. Suddenly he understood.
“Sleipnir,” he said.
Sleipnir the eight-legged, swiftest and best of all horses. And Sleipnir—Odin’s mount, given by Loki to the All-father—was one of the Treasures sent to Midgard, hidden away like the others. He had never been Loki’s top priority, but now …
“Ride,” Danny said. “Sleipnir.”
“I understand,” Loki said. “But I will need your help to find him, my son. And then you shall ride him, just as you wish.”
Danny’s eyes dulled and then closed. Loki stepped away to allow Miss Jones to cover him again, swallowing his frustration. He snapped his fingers, and the limousine pulled around the corner.
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