by C. Gockel
“Amy!” Beatrice cries from somewhere. Amy can’t see her; all she can see are Bohdi’s wings on either side.
“Are you okay?” her grandmother shouts.
“I’m fine!” Amy manages to say. Her lungs feel squished and her voice is muffled. Squirming to get up she mumbles, “Sorry, Steve. Sorry, sorry …”
Something soft lands on her neck, and she realizes it’s Squeakers. The mouse scurries quickly into her coat.
“It’s okay,” Steve says, sounding admirably calm—and like he has a lot more oxygen than she has even though he’s on the bottom. “Bohdi, can you get up?”
Above Amy, Bohdi squirms and pants. “No!”
Steve freezes. Flushing, Amy says, “Are you hurt?” Foregoing her efforts to get off of Steve, she runs her hands up and down Bohdi’s sides. Over his standard issue poly undershirt, he’s wearing a magical vest sort of thing that connects to the wings. Even with the fabric she can feel coiled muscle beneath her fingers. He sucks in a breath—but otherwise makes no sounds of pain.
“Can you tell Lewis where you’re injured?” Steve asks. His voice is still calm, but Amy catches the underlying note of worry.
Bohdi starts to snicker and stops struggling.
“You are in shock, Bohdi,” Steve says. Amy can feel him trying to wiggle out from beneath her.
“I might be,” Bohdi says. “But the reason I can’t get up is because someone is standing on my wings!”
From beyond the black shroud of borrowed Harpy wings, Beatrice says, “Oh, Fenrir, get off of there. No, not that way!”
Bohdi, says, “Hmmm … maybe if I do this … Wings, fold up!”
There is the whoosh of feathers, and suddenly there is daylight, swirling snowflakes and feathers, and Amy’s lungs are filling with cold air. Bohdi flops over on his side in the snow, throws a hand over his eyes and starts laughing. Amy rolls off Steve fast, and Steve sits up behind her.
“Bohdi,” Steve says, sounding very worried.
Keeping her voice calm, Amy says, “You need to tell us where you hurt.”
Bohdi looks at them from between long brown fingers. He stops laughing and his smile drops. He looks like he might say something serious, but then, giving them a smile that seems forced he says, “You know, I thought my first threesome would be with two girls.” His eyes flit between them. His smile turns absolutely manic. “But in this case, I might make an exception.”
Amy stares at him, her brain not comprehending. Behind her Steve says, “He’ll be fine,” and Amy swears she can hear his eyes rolling as her own brain connects the dots. Steve stands up and almost steps over Bohdi, but he stops mid-stride. Amy follows his eyes. The four spears Bohdi had been carrying are strewn on the ground. Steve’s eyes flick to the wings Bohdi wears, and he says softly, “The people you took these from?”
“All four of them dead,” says Bohdi, meeting Steve’s gaze a little too firmly. “No worries.”
Steve’s eyes flit to the ground. “Your rifle?”
Leaning on his arms, Bohdi shrugs nonchalantly. “Didn’t have it. Had to improvise.”
Steve opens his mouth. He looks like he is about to say something, but then someone shouts, “Captain Rogers!” And then Steve nods at Bohdi and takes off toward the perimeter of the camp.
Amy bites her lip, watching him go. She doesn’t know what to say to Bohdi. She bows her head. “Thanks for saving me … up there,” she stammers. It feels completely inadequate. He killed people and she feels guilty that he had to, that she hadn’t fired a single shot. She was useless. But that’s her own issue.
She raises her eyes. He’s not wearing a parka, and all of his clothing is bloodstained. He must be cold, but he’s still sprawled out awkwardly in the snow. She holds out a hand. “Can I help you up?”
“Amy …” he says, sitting up. His gaze goes over her shoulder and gets wide. Amy turns. The snow around them is stained with blood, and probably excrement. The sculpture is gone. Several members of the SEAL team are pulling bodies away. But immediately surrounding them are Beatrice, three of the SEALs and Harding. The small Marine is cocking her head, looking expectant.
“Errrr …” says Bohdi.
One of the SEALs steps toward Bohdi. Amy doesn’t remember his name. He’s tall, more broadly built than Bohdi, but other than that all the gear they wear hides his frame and most of his face. The only thing that stands out is all the blood on him and his muddy hazel eyes. “Four spears. So, you killed four of them … with what? Your bare hands?” Amy can hear the sneer beneath his muffler.
Harding, the tiny Marine, lifts her helmet, and brushes back a stray lock of blonde hair. “Shut up, Rush,” she says, eyes heavy on Bohdi and Amy. “This was just getting good.”
The guy with the muddy eyes, who must be Rush, snaps at her, “We lost a man and have another with third-degree burns!” Turning back to Bohdi, he says, “You know where we’re going. Did you trade your life for that information?”
“Bohdi’s not a traitor!” Amy shouts, suddenly finding herself on her feet. She feels Beatrice’s hand on her shoulder. And then Steve’s voice rises in the camp. “Where is Claire?” Forgetting Rush, Amy spins and sees Steve by the makeshift shelter, staring at the empty ground.
“Gotta borrow this,” Bohdi says, snapping Amy’s radio from her ear. Before she can say anything, there’s the rustle of wings, a gust of wind, and he’s in the air.
x x x x
Steve paces around the spot where Claire had lain on the ground. Beside him Warrant Officer Berry squats and surveys the snow, his normally ruddy complexion even redder in the cold. “Maybe she got up and moved? She saw the mess … she got scared?”
Steve scowls and does not look at the warrant officer. His instincts are urging him to run into the forest and shout her name. His hands tighten on his rifle; he has to stay calm.
“Maybe she’s at the beach?” Park says.
There are whales roaming the beach beyond the barrier of trees—Claire’s not that foolish. From the forest, Steve hears Amy’s mutt growl. And it’s like a little light goes on. He knows Fenrir has found Claire. He bolts into the trees, following the sounds of Amy’s mutant mutt up the slope behind the camp that’s too rocky and steep for snowmobiles. Bohdi’s voice crackles in Steve’s ear. “I see Claire. There’s three guys. Fenrir’s right behind them.”
Berry’s voice cracks over the radio too. “This is a trap.”
“Yes,” Steve says. Which is why he can’t order them to help … but he could ...
“I’m right behind you,” says Berry.
“Me too,” says Park.
Steve could order them to go back … but he can’t.
“I’m coming,” says Gerðr. “I have Valli’s sword.”
Larson’s voice cracks on the radio. “I’ll—”
“Stay right where you are,” Steve says to his second in command, his voice not breaking even though his legs are pumping fast. He’s willing his feet not to slip in the snow and concentrating on not whacking his head on a low-hanging branch. But at the same time his mind is occupied with these very earthly things, Steve knows, without knowing how, that Larson was about to say he’s coming too, because Larson is sweet on Gerðr. He’s going to be mad at Steve for that order, but …
“Yes, Sir,” Larson says, just like Steve knew he would. Because Larson, in the end, obeys orders.
Ahead, Steve sees four beams of light streak from the sky and makes out Fenrir darting through the trees.
“What’s going on?” someone pants.
Bohdi’s voice cracks on the radio. “Trapping them, before they trap you.” A tree wobbles and topples where the plasma hit. Steve hears swearing in a harsh guttural tongue, and then Gerðr shouts, sweeping Valli’s sword in a wide arc. Snow whips up from the ground, and suddenly there are three snow-coated shapes kneeling on the ground, and a fourth that looks like a white, human-sized cocoon. Out of the cocoon pops Claire’s head. “Dad!” she screams. Steve’s heart skips a beat in
joy and another in fear. Fenrir leaps and lunges onto one of Claire’s snow-covered captors, Bohdi falls from the sky on top of another and goes rolling. The last mercenary stands, lifts his visor, and Steve’s Glock is out, and he’s already shot him.
“Dad!” screams Claire again. Steve hears Park say, “Here, dog!” and then hears Park fire another shot. Without looking at Claire, he says, “Stay down,” and surveys the scene. Park is scratching Fenrir behind the ears, pistol out and pointed at the man Fenrir had attacked. Bohdi’s half kneeling over a man who’s face-forward in the snow. Bohdi’s knife is out, and blood is blooming on the snow from the felled warrior. Bohdi meets Steve’s eyes and nods looking furious, but not manic. Steve runs to the tree Bohdi knocked over; Berry and Gerðr are already there, peering into the forest. Snow is swirling … not from the sword, it’s snowing.
“I do not see other mercenaries,” Gerðr says, in stilted English.
“They’re about a mile away,” Bohdi says, coming up from behind them, the black wings he’s wearing rustling. “I saw the Valkyrie wings from above … that’s probably where the World Gate to Asgard is.”
“Let’s get out of here,” says Steve.
He turns around and sees Claire standing, staring down at the snow. Fenrir’s dancing around her. Park’s unzipped the sleeping bag and is throwing it around her like a cape. “There, now you’re like Supergirl,” he says. Claire doesn’t respond. She has no visible bruising, her clothing is intact. Steve scoops her up into his arms, sleeping bag and all, and squeezes her tight. He breathes against her hair. “You okay?”
She doesn’t answer, and Steve’s heart falls. He doesn’t know what to say, so instead he just says to the world at large, “We’ve got to move out,” and turns back to camp.
“Right,” says Berry. Tapping his ear, he starts giving orders.
“She be alright,” Gerðr says, falling into step next to Steve. Steve doesn’t look at her or respond. On Earth, when he was paralyzed and helpless, Gerðr tried to suffocate him. Steve’s buddy Dale insists it was an attempted mercy killing. Dale thinks it was an act of love on Gerðr’s part. Steve’s skin heats. The only reason Steve is here is because Gerðr would not accept anyone else to lead the mission, because she trusts Steve, or thinks she loves Steve. And because Steve is here, Claire is here. It makes him angrier than the attempted “mercy” killing. He pulls Claire tighter to his chest.
A few minutes later, they enter the camp. Valli comes striding over to them. “Give me back my sword, Witch! You tricked me!”
Steve sees a few of the guys look at Gerðr with wide eyes and parted lips. Someone whispers, “Jung, you missed it. Gerðr took off her magic-blocking hat … and oh, man, I think I still have a hard—”
“Language!” Larson snaps.
Steve leaves him to deal with it. He sees Sigyn and Nari kneeling over Tucker. Sigyn’s hands are on Tucker’s bare arm. Tucker took a bolt of plasma and has severe burns. Sigyn and Nari both have magical medical experience with burns—comes with the territory when you’re family to Loki. Steve turns to Bohdi; the kid has wrapped the wings around him, but he’s shivering, from cold or the day’s adventure. Bohdi’s gaze looks a little unfocused. The kid has crises of conscience when he kills bugs, and today he killed at least five men, virtually with his bare hands. Steve swallows. If it weren’t for Bohdi, Odin would probably have Lewis, and Claire …
Claire squirms a little in Steve’s arms. Steve closes his eyes.
“Bohdi,” he whispers.
“Yeah?” the kid says.
Steve opens his eyes. Bohdi looks so young, and so innocent … and, in a weird way, maybe he is. He’s not cruel, he doesn’t like pain for pain’s sake. He is just really good at killing. For a moment, Steve can’t say anything. The side with Chaos always wins. Odin may want to kill Steve, but he’ll want Bohdi alive, and that’s worse.
“You’re like a brother to me.” Steve takes a breath. He’s not prone to emotional outbursts, but ... “If anything happens to you, kid, I will fight for you, as long as I’m still breathing.” Claire’s hand snakes around his neck. Steve closes his eyes. “Hell, with the way this magic stuff works, I’ll fight for you even after I stop breathing.”
He hears a noise, a light clicking. He looks up and realizes it’s Bohdi’s teeth chattering with such force his wings are trembling. The kid nods. And then he smiles. “Me too. Promise.”
It’s a little too much. Steve inclines his head toward where the last of the snowmobiles is being packed up. “Take off those wings and get some real gear on before you freeze to death.”
Bohdi’s teeth chatter as he nods. “Right.” He heads off, and Steve sees that Lewis has already found a spare parka, and is jogging over to him.
“Put me down,” Claire says. Steve’s brows furrow. It’s the first words she’s spoken since Steve rescued her. His heart clenches. His arms are actually screaming to let her go, but he doesn’t want to. She’s his little girl, he almost lost her, and he doesn’t know when he’ll get a chance to hold her like this again.
“Dad,” Claire says, her voice thick. “Put me down.”
Steve gently sets her down, wrapping the sleeping bag around her like a cloak as snow swirls around them. A few big flakes catch in her lashes. Before he has a chance to say a word, Larson approaches with Gerðr and Beatrice. “Sir,” the lieutenant says, “Gerðr and I have a plan to refreeze the ice on the lake.”
The Frost Giantess nods at Steve, too fast, too eager to please.
Gesturing with his thumb toward his men, Larson says, “We can take out the whales from the trees with our rifles. Beatrice can drive Gerðr up to the edge of the thaw, and she can use the magic shards of Nari, Sigyn, and Valli to power up her magic reserves.” He looks at Gerðr. “Am I getting this right?”
She nods, eyes on Steve. “I need Beatrice and umbrella! To refreeze the ice enough for us to pass over.”
Steve looks at the Frost Giantess. To do magic she’ll have to take off her magic-blocking cap and bracelets. All the men looking at her will turn into drooling idiots, so she needs a woman to be with her. Harding and Mills are more experienced snowmobile drivers and would have been his first choice. But back on Earth, a sorcerer named Skirnir tried to abduct Gerðr. Beatrice rescued her. Maybe Gerðr just trusts her more? It seems like a small thing, so he lets it slide. “Sounds good,” he says, but he has a feeling like his hair is being rubbed the wrong way again. She needs Beatrice and the umbrella? And then he shakes his head … to keep the snow out of her eyes, of course. “Make it happen,” Steve says.
Larson nods and starts issuing commands. Steve puts his hand on Claire’s shoulder. “Come on, we’re going to get you in all your gear, and then you’re riding with me.”
Claire doesn’t move or look at him. He hears snowmobile engines rev. Snow swirls in the air. Over the radio Sigyn’s voice crackles. “The snow is getting heavier. It will keep all of the Harpies grounded.”
Steve kneels down beside his daughter. “Claire …” his voice drifts off. He doesn’t know what to say.
Her face crumples, and Steve thinks she may cry. Instead she snarls, “I will never be weak again.” And Steve feels the same rush of terror he’d felt when he’d found her gone.
x x x x
Bohdi runs into Amy, halfway across the camp, parka already in her hands. Shivering uncontrollably he tries to undo the fastenings on the winged vest he wears. He fumbles helplessly. He’s not sure if it’s from cold or an adrenaline crash. Flipping back the tops of her mittens, Amy unfastens them for him and helps him take off the wings. Someone comes and picks them up. Bohdi starts to protest, but Amy says, “Don’t worry, we’re keeping them. They’ve found a few salvageable pairs among the wreckage.”
“Oh,” Bohdi says, still shaking, but managing to put on the parka. He tries to zip it up, but fails again. Without a word, Amy zips it up and does the closures of the garment for him. Bohdi holds up his arms and just tries to stay out of the way. The snow
is falling like a curtain, making the SEALs, Marines, and magical aliens around them seem unreal. Making the day feel unreal …
Rush asked him how he killed the mercenaries in the forest. Bohdi’s still piecing it together. He clearly remembers landing on the back of the first man and putting his knife to his throat. The man had leaned back and twisted at the same time. Blood had sprayed from his throat all over his companions. Blinded by the bloody spray, the men and women lifted their visors. And Bohdi had almost laughed, because he hadn’t planned it, it just happened. He remembers taking shelter under the first man’s body, using the dead man’s plasma spear to shoot the Harpy … and then things kind of became a blur. He tricked one of the guys into shooting another, and then pretended to be weak and frightened to get the last guy to let down his guard. It had been so easy he’d had to bite his lip until blood came to keep from laughing aloud. His memories of events are blurry, but his memories of his emotions are extremely clear. He’d felt a oneness with the universe; like he was exactly where he was supposed to be and doing exactly what he was supposed to be doing. The only other times he’s felt such lucidity were during sex.
It’s very strange; he hated physical training in boot camp, hated Steve dragging him to the gym, and really hated sparring—Bohdi always loses, unless he cheats. But this was different, freer; there had been no rules—cheating had been good.
A shiver runs through him. In a world without rules, Chaos reigns. He suddenly feels unsteady on his feet, like he might be blown away. He isn’t sorry he killed those men, or the women in the sky, or Claire’s kidnappers. He wonders if he is supposed to be sorry.
“There,” Amy says, patting his collar. “You’re done.”
Her words shake Bohdi back to earth. He looks down to find her gazing up at him, snow catching on her lashes. Without a word, she gives him a hug, her cheek pressing against his chest. His arms go around her on instinct, but almost instantly the simple embrace becomes more. A tether to humanity maybe? He doesn’t know, but for the second time today he feels he is exactly where he is supposed to be, doing exactly what he is supposed to be doing. He closes his eyes, squeezes Amy tight, feels the hints of curves beneath the layers of parka and gear and feels warmth returning to his limbs.