by C. Gockel
Steve comes over to Amy. “You need us?”
Amy swallows. What Steve is really asking is if she needs his or Tucker’s blood. They’re both, rarities of rarities, blood type O negative. Among humans, they are the “universal donor,” able to be blood donor to anyone. But Amy’s not sure Frost Giants can receive human blood. “She’s getting better,” Amy says. “That will only be in case of an extreme emergency.”
“Captain,” Tucker says, “Why don’t you put me on guard duty? You need someone here, and that will put me nearby in case she needs a transfusion.”
Steve nods. “It’s a good idea.” Tapping his headpiece, he nods at Amy, and then steps out of the room, Tucker behind him. Amy hears Beatrice downstairs, and the soft footfalls of the dwarf woman who is the owner of the Inn and sister of Bjorna’s slain husband.
The dwarf woman walks into the room, her eyes glowing like a cat in the low-light—literally. Amy’s got a memory of Mimir bouncing around in her brain explaining how the dwarves have a reflective layer behind their retinas, just like cats, dogs, and other animals. It’s useful in the low light of their caves, but something that is often derided as being “animal-like” by the other hominid species of the World Tree.
“Dr. Lewis,” the woman says. “I have made a bed for you. I hope you will be staying the rest of the night.”
“Um,” says Amy. She doesn’t know if that’s allowed.
Steve appears in the doorway, as if by magic, and knowing his magical talent for knowing things, it might be. “Of course you can stay,” he says and then disappears again. Amy relaxes. She smiles at the woman. “Yes, of course, Gemixal …” Her voice trails off as she stumbles on the name.
The woman waves her hand. “Gem is fine.”
Her eyes go to Cannonball, Bjorna, and back to Amy. “They’ll be alright?” she asks Amy, not Thor, though Thor had a big hand in saving them.
“Yes,” Amy says. She inclines her head to Bjorna. “She’ll need rest, and it would be best if she eats plenty of red meat.”
Gem nods. “Yes, oh, yes, I’ll make sure of that.”
Thor’s voice rumbles. “His lungs and blood are full of oxygen now. Would you like to hold him?”
Gem draws back. Her wide eyes go to the baby, to Thor, and back to the baby.
“Thor won’t bite,” says Amy.
Gem doesn’t look quite like she believes her. She walks toward the big man, arms outstretched for Cannonball, but eyes on Thor’s face, as though she’s searching for a sign that he’ll pounce. When she gathers Cannonball into her arms, she steps quickly backward, as if the brief contact burned.
Amy sighs. Standing close to her, Gem says, “Your grandmother is downstairs warming some soup for you, and I’ve got a kettle on to make you hot water for a bath, and clean clothes that …” she tilts her head and looks Amy up and down. “Well, they’ll mostly keep you covered.”
Amy pushes back a loose lock of her hair. It is caked with blood. She closes her eyes. They hadn’t had gowns or caps. She had a pair of gloves from the first aid kit, and that was it. She lets out a breath and looks down at her dress. It’s stained.
“I’ll clean that, of course,” Gem whispers.
“A bath sounds wonderful,” Amy says.
Gem looks to the door, and down at Cannonball, and to the door again.
“I’ll find my way,” Amy assures Gem, and the dwarf nods and smiles at her. She looks down at Cannonball’s half-opened eyes and says, “Oh, they glow. He looks so much like my brother.” She begins to cry and touches her forehead to the drowsy newborn.
Amy wraps her arms around herself and bows her head. From all she can gather, Gem’s brother had been one of the dwarves Heiðr invited to the Iron Wood to fix Gullveig’s fortress. His only crime seems to have been falling for Bjorna. Her family had killed him for dishonoring them and had pressed Bjorna to abort. Bjorna had sought refuge with Gem. Sniffling a little, Gem says, “Your room is the first before the stairs. It has a lot of light … I think humans like that?”
“Thank you,” Amy says, “we do.” Amy steps from the room into the hall. She hears Beatrice’s footsteps below and the whistle of a kettle.
When she reaches the foot of the stairs, she finds only Steve. He’s staring at Bohdi, who is sitting back to them on the sofa, face to the hearth. He looks too tall and out of place. Amy blinks. He’s still here. She would have thought he would have headed straight over to the party that’s invariably going on back at the dining hall. She remembers how the girls had fawned over him the night before.
Steve raises an eyebrow at her and whispers, “I think he wanted to come up, but he didn’t because …” Steve shrugs.
“Because he thinks he’s the angel of death,” Amy whispers.
Steve sighs, lifts his eyebrows, and crosses his arms.
Amy drifts toward Bohdi. She nervously tucks a filthy strand of hair behind her ear. She’s a mess, coming off an adrenaline high and doesn’t know what to say, but she has to say something. She’s vaguely aware of Beatrice coming closer. She bites her lip. And she has to say it fast.
x x x x
Steve leaves Lewis and goes to check on Rush. Before he’s even through the kitchen door, he sees Rush’s body off in a little room beyond the kitchen. He’s sprawled on his side, a blanket thrown over him. Beatrice is in the kitchen proper, stirring something that smells delicious in a pot on the stove, her umbrella on the kitchen table. Beside her there is a counter with an apparatus that looks like a bicycle wheel with hand cranks instead of pedals. It has a spout protruding from it, and a bowl beneath that. Steve blinks—it’s a pump. Apparently, the dwarves managed to get some running water for themselves, even if they didn’t complete the job for Heiðr.
Behind Steve, Lewis’s voice rises, and then Bohdi’s, their voices too hushed for the words to be distinct. Beatrice tsks, puts down the spoon and comes to the door. Steve’s not trying to run interference for Bohdi as he stands in the tiny door frame, but he’s six feet five inches, his frame suits his height and then some, and the effect is the same. Beatrice waves a hand. “Out of my way, Steve.”
Steve remembers the branches twisting in the rafters the night before, Brett and Bryant’s voices over the radio, and Bohdi’s pit bull-like defense of Amy … Bohdi and Amy are trouble together. Steve almost lets Beatrice go.
But then curiosity gets the best of him. Leaning against the narrow frame, he holds out an arm to block Amy’s overprotective grandmother. “What’s your problem with Bohdi, Beatrice?”
“He’s trouble!” Beatrice whispers.
Steve has a moment of panic. She knew Loki, she had even danced with him, does she know? “Why do you say that?” Steve says, keeping his voice light and unworried.
Beatrice gapes at him. “Nornheim, Steven. Asgard. Trolls in Chicago.”
Steve snorts. “Okay, I’ll give you that.”
Her brow furrows. “And when Agent Martinez told Laura Stodgill that Bohdi really knows how to straighten out a girl’s hard drive, I don’t think she was talking about computers.”
“Errr …”
“Amy needs someone who can take care of her—she can’t defend herself,” Beatrice says, wrapping one arm around herself, her voice becoming pained.
Steve tilts his head, remembering the mysterious jamming of Amy’s pistol, and her poor performance in the self-defense instruction they gave her back on Earth. He glances at the ceiling. Lewis saved the woman upstairs without magic or modern medicine in a last ditch gambit, and the baby when he didn’t have a pulse; it seems like the work of the Creator—if she were human, like setting a world on fire with a disposable lighter might be the work of the non-magical Destroyer. If Steve didn’t know that Hoenir was alive …
“She was supposed to wind up with Nari!” Beatrice says, shaking Steve from his musings.
“Nari?” says Steve, genuinely confused. “He’s a bit of a coward.”
Beatrice meets his eyes. “Yes, precisely! He’s a coward and
will dissuade her from doing anything extraordinarily stupid. Nari is just brave enough, Steven.”
Steve should get out of her way, but doesn’t move.
“She’s in an impossible situation.” Beatrice crosses her arms over her chest and looks past Steve.
They’re all in an impossible situation, but that isn’t what Beatrice is saying. He feels it in every inch of his skin. “What are you not telling me, Beatrice?”
Beatrice raises her eyes to his. They’re as bright and clear as a woman in her twenties—they have been for years, ever since Loki plucked her from her nursing home and left her in his apartment with Amy. But Loki didn’t do that. “Hoenir saved you,” Steve says softly. After Loki destroyed Cera, Sigyn and her boys had spoken with Mimir, while Hoenir had gone off on other business. “And Hoenir is Prometheus, I know that. What is it that I don’t know?”
Beatrice raises a hand to her mouth. And then she drops her eyes. “I can’t tell you that, Steven. All I know is that it is my job to protect Amy. She’s in an impossible situation.”
There is that phrase again. Steve’s skin prickles. “More so than the rest of us?”
Beatrice looks up at him sharply. She says nothing, but Steve can read it in the set of her chin. She’s angry … because, yes, the doctor is in some special danger. Steve’s brow furrows. Amy’s been in danger since Odin set his sights on her, but why did he set his sights on her? Not just because she was Loki’s girlfriend. Loki had a few human ‘girlfriends’ from what their intelligence can glean. And Hoenir said to keep an eye on her, too—because he knew she was pregnant with a magical child? But no, he’d been concerned about her even after that. Because she has Loki’s memories? Steve sighs and rubs his forehead. “I hate magic.”
Beatrice snorts. “You’re not the only one.” She moves to slide by him and Steve almost lets her go. But then his arm shoots out and he takes her wrist, almost despite his volition. Beatrice gasps and looks down at his hand. And so does he. What is he doing? Bohdi and Lewis conspired against him; the memory still makes heat rise in his chest. He should do everything in his power to separate them. He remembers Bohdi ribbing him at the table earlier in the morning in front of Berry and Larson, and it still burns a little. Protecting Bohdi from the wrath of Lewis’s grandmother is just a vestige of friendship that he should toss aside.
But he doesn’t let Beatrice go.
Odin hadn’t let Loki know what he was. He’d conspired against the previous incarnation of Chaos Loki’s entire life. He’d deliberately kept him out of step, unbalanced, unaware of his true potential, and Steve understands why—by weakening him, Odin hoped to control him. And it worked well, until it spectacularly didn’t.
“Steve,” Beatrice hisses. She twists her arm.
“Now hold on a minute,” Steve says.
Beatrice’s eyes narrow.
“You don’t want to separate them,” Steve says. He can feel his heart start to beat faster. He feels like he’s on an odd precipice, like he’s either making the best, or worst, decision of his life.
“Why not?” Beatrice says, her voice sharp and suspicious. But she’s not moving.
Steve releases her. To get her respect, he first needs to show he respects her. “Look, I have to hand it to you, your strategy to set her up with Nari demonstrates some real three-dimensional strategizing, Beatrice. I respect you a lot for it. And I think it would be a good idea—”
“Then why are we standing here?”
“Because I only think it would be a good idea in normal times.” He meets her eyes. “And we aren’t in normal times.”
Beatrice looks toward Lewis and Bohdi and back to him. “What do you know that I don’t know?”
“Sigyn told me Bohdi’s talent.” It’s a lie, but a small one.
“And what is it?” says Beatrice.
Steve takes a deep breath. “Bohdi’s magical ability is to overcome impossible situations.” He shakes his head and looks away. Liars usually meet the eye of their inquisitors. “Sigyn felt it almost immediately after he took the serum. It’s probably why we’ve survived this long.” He rubs the back of his neck and affects the look of contemplation. “Oh, hell, I don’t know. If magic is just the manifestation of our deeper natures, maybe he already had the ability a little in Nornheim and Asgard? There’s no way they should have survived that.” Dropping his hand, he slumps his shoulders a little, and tries to look as unthreatening as he can. “He did bring her back to you, Beatrice.”
Beatrice’s eyes slide back to the two kids. She crosses her arms. “I hate magic.”
Steve chuckles, careful to keep his voice down. “Also, even in a non-magical world, trying to force kids who think they are in love apart is likely to drive them into each other’s arms.”
Beatrice glances up at him sharply.
He offers a show of vulnerability, just to build a little more trust. “It’s a contingency I’ve been concerned about since Claire was born.”
Beatrice raises an eyebrow. “Somehow I have a feeling you’ll be able to dissuade any suitors you find unfit.”
Steve almost laughs, and not in a happy way. “Have you met my daughter?”
Beatrice gives a sly smile. “Or maybe not.”
For a moment he thinks he has her, but then she frowns. “You’re sure about this?”
Steve sighs. “No.” She raises an eyebrow, and he says, “But Beatrice, Odin wants Lewis. I don’t know why. But I don’t want him getting anything he wants.” His voice is low; the heat in his words isn’t feigned. “If I thought for a moment that Bohdi somehow would make it more likely he’d get his hands on her, I wouldn’t let him near her.”
Beatrice’s shoulders sag. Steve glances toward Bohdi and Lewis. Bohdi has his hands on her granddaughter’s shoulders. He’s looking at her intently. Steve can hear the murmur of Lewis’s voice but not her words.
“Come on, Beatrice,” Steve says, putting a hand on Beatrice’s shoulder. “Let’s leave them alone.”
Beatrice releases a long breath. “I’m hungry, Steven. Do you want some soup?”
At her words, Steve’s stomach rumbles. Steering Beatrice back to the kitchen, he says, “That sounds perfect. I just need to check on Rush.”
The SEAL’s voice rises in the mud room. “I’m fine, Captain.”
Steve looks up in alarm. Rush is sitting upright, but an instant later his eyes roll back in his head. He sways a moment, and then falls over.
“Oh, dear,” says Beatrice.
Steve feels a shiver run down his spine. From what Bohdi briefly told him about Rush’s run-in with Ullr, Steve knows the Asgardian is looking for a weak link in the team. How much had Rush heard, how much had he understood—and more important, what would he tell?
x x x x
Bohdi doesn’t turn as Amy approaches. “Hey,” Amy says, when she’s still a good distance away, carefully trying not to startle him. She wonders when she learned that habit … all of them are what she might have called trigger happy before. Now she thinks they’re just ready to fight, or in her case, flee.
Bohdi turns his head sharply. His eyes, orange in the firelight, settle on her and his frame relaxes. He stands up, but he doesn’t come closer. Probably because she’s caked in dry blood and is disgusting.
She bites her lip. For all its faults, Jotunheim is like a Bohdi paradise … lots of girls, lots of food back at the dining hall. She and Bohdi had fun last night, and they’re friends, but she has to keep it in perspective—this is Bohdi. The field has opened up, and he’s going to play it. She’s not sure why he is still here, but thinks she knows what he needs to hear. “You know,” she says, “if I hadn’t run into you, Bjorna and the baby might have died.” She shrugs and gives a small smile. “I’m a slow runner. I don’t think I would have made it in time.”
She doesn’t want him to obsess over his role in all the death they’ve seen. It seems to work; he takes a step toward her. “Are you alright?” he asks.
She blinks. It’s the
first time this evening anyone has asked her that. “I …” She starts to shake, and everything she’d kept inside all night bubbles out. “I was so scared, Bohdi. I knew a C-section would kill Bjorna, and I didn’t know if the baby would even be alive. I tried this crazy thing a Chinese vet student friend of mine told me back in school … she told it to me as a joke.” Amy’s eyes sting and she puts her hand to her mouth. “I can’t believe it worked.”
“What did you do?” Bohdi asks. He puts his hands on her shoulders. They make her feel warmer—even though they’re cold. Bohdi’s hands are never cold. Hadn’t Berry said something about the temperature dropping?
She feels like the air is heavy—and can’t meet his eyes. “I put Bjorna on the tarp from the tent … and I had the guys toss her. Gently, I mean.” She winces. “It’s what Hi-sha said Chinese peasants used to do when babies got stuck.” She swallows, and she says too quickly, “The Chinese had better live birth rates back in the 1600s …” her voice trails off. “I could have hurt them both … and then the baby was born with the umbilical cord around his neck, and I gave him mouth to mouth and I was so worried about breaking his tiny little bones.” She feels her eyes get hot. She doesn’t normally get so shaken by medical procedures, even death, and she’s not sure if it was the potential of causing Bjorna or Cannonball serious injury, or the Frost Giants she saw muttering in the shadows when she arrived, or the story of Bjorna’s husband.
“They were both going to die, and they didn’t,” Bohdi says, squeezing her shoulders gently.
She feels his lips on her forehead and closes her eyes. It feels good, and it doesn’t. She is horribly aware of needing a bath. She backs away. “I need to wash up. But I’ll see you later.” Tomorrow morning, after he’s had that threesome he’s always wanted. She’ll play it cool, but right now she’s too tired. She wipes her hands on her sides and doesn’t look at him. Turning, she’s just about to leave the room when he says, “Amy?”
She stops, turns again and finds his head tilted, his expression unreadable. His hair is finally starting to grow out, and he’s starting to look like himself again. “Yes?” she says, rocking a bit onto her toes, a little fluttery inside.