by C. Gockel
Eyes cold, he says, “Thank you for that.” And at the same time he says the words, she feels his derision. She is a child, she knows nothing of love … And her heart breaks all over again.
She squeezes her eyes tight, and then she remembers—she’s with Bohdi. Bohdi loves her. He hasn’t said it, but she knows it, because he gets mad at her when she risks her life; because he gave her the only lollipop on Jotunheim; and because he wanted to stay up in the attic and snuggle. She never has to be with Loki again. The new Loki will waltz through the gate from Hel eventually, she’ll hand over his book, tell him he is the incarnation of Chaos, and he can go burn Asgard to the ground on his own.
She’s with Bohdi. She’s safe. All she has to do is wake up.
Gasping, she opens her eyes. She feels a hand gently stroking her back. The light of Gem’s glow globe is dim and it takes a moment to focus. Bohdi comes into view. He’s got Loki’s book on his chest. It’s open, and his eyes are intent on its pages.
Amy’s heart stops. “You can’t read that.” Only Loki can read it.
Bohdi’s lips are nothing like Lothur’s or Loki’s—they’re full and wide. His nose is slightly squished, and his eyes are large and innocent with long lashes, his skin is warm and brown. But then he smirks, and he looks exactly like them. “Well, good morning to you, too,” he says.
“You can’t read that,” Amy says again, her voice coming out a hiss.
He rolls his eyes. “Oh, yes I can.”
x x x x
Amy stares at Bohdi, her eyes wide, her lip trembling.
He’d been mildly confounded, and slightly irritated, when she hissed at him … but now he’s starting to have a very bad feeling in his stomach. His mouth opens, but before he can get a word out, she lunges for the book and snatches it from his hand. Opening it quickly, she thrusts it back to him again.
“Read it!”
A couple of times, members of the team have broken down. They’ve said they’d never get home, never get to tell their parents goodbye, never have their bodies found, etc. Amy’s never had one of those little panic attacks, but there’s something about the wild look in Amy’s eyes that tells Bohdi she’s having one now. He swallows. The key seems to be to stay calm and reason with panic-stricken people. But to reason with her, first he has to know what’s going on. “Amy, what’s wrong?”
“You can’t read it!” she says, her breathing heavy and erratic. She’s not touching him, and he scoots closer, wanting to pull her tight and comfort her. But when he moves toward her, she crawls backward on her knees. It reminds him of the time she leaned away from Odin’s touch.
His whole body goes cold. Not knowing what else to do, he looks down at the page.
It’s the picture with the woman on fire. He takes a deep breath, and reads:
“And I have dreams of my love, who was not my love, but was. Her father said words low against me, so low that it caused her heart to flame. And the flame of her heart spread to the utmost ends of her limbs. My love died in flames.”
He shivers. His eyes skim the page and he silently reads: … my friend, my brother, he learned of this and declared we would go to her father so that he will know, that to worship him is also to worship me …
Bohdi snaps the book shut. “It’s the story of Sati, Shiva’s wife.”
“You know …” she whispers.
“I’m Hindu,” he says. His eyes slide to the side. “Maybe.”
He looks down at the book. But it’s far more than a story of Sati and Shiva. It’s a book of magic, and for lack of a better word, of spells for walking the In Between, opening World Gates, destroying World Gates, telekinesis, creating illusions, and turning water into fire—that last he probably could have figured out on his own, but the rest …
“You know …” she says, “You have to know. You went to the Norns. You are way too good at killing, you set Nornheim on fire.” All the pieces click together—the journal in the first person from Shiva’s point of view, and Shiva is Loki … and for some reason, reading this book is making Amy think he is Loki. But he’s not. “I’m not Loki,” he says, his voice sounding angrier than he means it to.
“Is this a game to you?” Amy says, standing quickly, bowed beneath the low ceiling.
“What?”
“You want to make me fall in love with you, so I what … help you burn Asgard to the ground?”
Bohdi blinks. “You’re in love with me?” It’s the first time she’s said it, and he feels hope rise in his chest. This is just a minor stumbling block, a misunderstanding. He pulls the book to his chest. “And I, yes …”
But Amy’s already backed away. He stands up fast, and knocks his head on the ceiling. Pain cracks from his head all the way down his spine.
Her eyes scan the floor, wide and unfocused. “You told me this was only a game …”
Bohdi blinks. In a movie, this is when the leading man would give a jaunty smile, a wink, and say, darling, I was just talking about sex—and you’ve got to admit that’s a game I can play. But the stakes are too high for him to be cavalier.
Throwing open the trap door, Amy scrambles down the ladder.
“Wait! Amy!” Bohdi shouts, following her. “The book—”
“Keep it!” Amy says, running for the room she shares with Beatrice and Harding. “It’s yours.”
“I’m not Loki!” Bohdi shouts. “We just share a condition!”
Amy doesn’t say anything, but from downstairs he hears the sound of voices.
x x x x
Bohdi’s voice echoes down the stairs. “I’m not Loki! We just share a condition!”
The Frost Giants, both warriors and civilians, don’t react. Bohdi spoke in English, Steve realizes, and not all Frost Giants can use magic to translate the language, except for Heiðr—but maybe she didn’t understand?
His eyes slide to the chieftess. Her mouth is open in shock, and her eyes are at the top of the stairs. Steve’s eyes go to his team.
A muscle in Larson’s cheek is jumping. Harding’s pursing her lips. Tucker and Cruz’s faces are mirroring Heiðr’s. One of Rush’s eyebrows is up, the other is down, and he’s frowning, like he’s doing a particularly hard math problem. Gerðr is rubbing her temples, Sigyn is wincing, and Nari and Valli are edging toward the stairs, but facing the rest of the company. They’re getting ready to defend Bohdi?
Spinning quickly, Heiðr speaks in her own language to her people. “Wait for me outside.”
As they comply, the only sound is Bohdi’s banging on a door upstairs. Steve sucks in a breath. Gem and Bjorna undoubtedly have heard, too.
The front door shuts, and it’s just Heiðr and Steve’s team. Steve’s eyes go to Larson. It looks like all the veins in his neck are struggling to pop out.
Rubbing her temple, Sigyn says, “Well, that could never have gone well, and it could have gone worse.”
Heiðr rounds on Sigyn. “You knew! You had to know …”
Sigyn doesn’t respond. Heiðr turns to Steve. “You’re hiding the man Odin is looking for.”
Gerðr steps forward. “Don’t give him to Odin!” Her eyes are wide, and her voice is so plaintive it takes Steve by surprise. Larson’s head snaps to her, his expression softening from anger to confusion.
“Give him to Odin?” Heiðr says. She smiles, thinly. “Never.” Her eyes rise to the ceiling, and the look on her face becomes calculated and dangerous.
Steve’s heart rate quickens, and he feels electricity throbbing beneath his skin. “I wouldn’t try containing him, either.” He hears the house groan, and he knows his eyes are glowing. “The Norns tried it, and they lost their dragon and half their world to fire. He managed to escape Asgard, right beneath Odin’s nose. He led an army of trolls against the Einherjar on Earth, and he slipped by Odin’s forces here, too.”
Heiðr’s eyes narrow. “I don’t need to confine him. There are whispers that Odin’s fool is the Destroyer.” She smiles again. “He will lead the Frost Giants to victory
in Ragnarok.”
“Bohdi? He couldn’t lead anyone,” says Rush.
All eyes in the room slide to the SEAL. Rush shrugs. “I like him. He’s good in a fight, but he’s not a leader.”
From upstairs comes the sound of Bohdi’s voice. “Amy, please come out!”
Larson snorts. “No he isn’t.”
Heiðr’s eyes narrow. “Mr. Patel, get down here!”
x x x x
Bohdi leans against the door. “Amy, I’m not Loki!”
There is no response from behind the door, and then Bohdi remembers the way she flinched from his touch … like he was going to hurt her. He pushes back his bangs. He also remembers the way she’d flushed when he’d asked her in Nornheim if she was still in love with Loki. And it doesn’t make any sense in his head. “I … was waiting …” For what? “I was going to tell you last night … but then …” He forgot about everything for a while.
The voice of the Frost Giant chieftess rises from down the stairs. “Mr. Patel, get down here!”
Bohdi doesn’t move. Down the hall he sees Gem peek out of the room that she shares with Bjorna.
Bohdi hears Heiðr snarl, “Order your man down here!” Cannonball cries and is hushed.
He hears the creak of stairs and then Steve’s voice. “Bohdi, would you come down?” and then Bohdi hears him say, “Heiðr isn’t going to take you anywhere.”
There is a threat in his voice—not directed at him, Bohdi realizes.
“Amy,” he whispers. “I have to go. I hope … I hope we can talk about this later. I’m sorry.”
Pulling out his lighter, he turns to the stairs. As he steps down, he finds everyone’s eyes on him. Steve is standing on the bottom steps. Steve, Gerðr, Sigyn, Nari and Valli have formed a line between the stairs and Heiðr. The chieftess steps toward them, and Valli’s and Nari’s hands go to their hips. They’re defending him? He flicks his lighter.
Bohdi feels naked. He’s only wearing his undershirt, pants, and socks. He left his boots upstairs in the attic. He doesn’t have any weapons, except the knife in his pocket.
Heiðr scowls at him as though disappointed. She shakes her head and snorts, “Come closer.”
“Errr …” says Bohdi. But he pads down the steps.
Heiðr raises a hand toward him.
“Careful,” Valli says, voice low.
“I’m just checking his aura,” Heiðr snaps.
“Let her,” says Sigyn.
The team backs away, and Bohdi remains still while Heiðr lets her hand hover over Bohdi’s chest. “I never met Loki,” she whispers. “I was not here when Odin destroyed the original Keep; I was studying magic in Vanaheim.” She meets Bohdi’s eyes. “But I have letters from my mother. She described you as flickering, like a flame, and not what she expected.”
It’s like a weight has descended on him. “I’m not Loki. I’m me. I never knew your mother.”
Heiðr draws back. Scowling, she says, “Stay away from the Asgardians. Your aura is beginning to show.”
She turns around and then stops, eyes on Tucker. He puts his hands behind his back and looks off into the distance.
“Were there any witnesses to the murder you committed?” Heiðr asks, her voice sharp.
Spinning the wheel on his lighter, Bohdi draws back. Tucker, a murderer? He’d been against the whole kill-the-unarmed-Einherjar incite-the-rest-to-fight thing. And he adores Cannonball and Bjorna. Amy says that Bjorna is too grief stricken to fall in love right now, but Tucker doesn’t seem angry or pissed about that, and some guys would be. Bohdi grips his lighter tighter. He’s absolutely sure that whatever Tucker did was justified.
“Yes, ma’am,” Tucker says, “Ullr saw.”
Bohdi’s heart falls. Ullr is an ass. Tucker is in deep trouble.
“Then he will be called to testify at your trial tomorrow at dawn,” Heiðr says. With that she walks by Tucker and leaves the inn, just as Berry and Redman come in.
The focus in the room shifts to Tucker.
“What happened?” Steve says. “From the beginning.”
Meeting his eyes, Tucker says, “I went outside to take a piss under the eaves … while all the ice and snow was still falling down.” He drops his eyes. “I was finishing up, and one of the peasants, he started talking to me in broken English, he had a bunch of friends with him … seven of them. And he asks me about the wings we took from the Valkyries—Harpies—and if I wore them. I said no, I am a little too tall, and they don’t fit me, but I wished I could fly.”
Tucker looks up at Steve. “And then he says he saw me reading from my magic book in the hall … I had been reading on my phone. You know, I don’t drink and sometimes it gets boring when you’re sober and everyone is sloshed. And Patel”— his eyes go to Bohdi —“let me download a Popular Mechanics issue on my phone. It’s got a piece on building your own windmill, and I thought we could do that so we don’t have to use the dwindling coal supplies to pump the water up here.” He smiles ruefully. “Because it’s soon going to get awfully cold here for the peasants.”
“What happened?” Steve says.
A muscle jumps in Tucker’s jaw. “He said reading magic books, and wanting to fly, well, it was obvious that I liked …” He stops.
Bohdi flicks his lighter, the edge of his vision turning red. “You don’t have to finish.”
Meeting his gaze, Tucker frowns and says, “… to take it up the ass. I told him not to come closer, or I would defend myself. He and his friends laughed and he said that I would like it. Another guy dropped his pants … over his shoulder, I saw Ullr coming around the corner of the building. But then the first guy and his buddies rushed me. I shattered the first one’s nose—bone in the brain probably killed him. Knocked another to the ground fast—I don’t think he’s dead, probably unconscious.” His head ticks to the side again. “I thought I was cornered, that they would fight … but they ran away screaming and shouting.” His eyes drop, and he scans the ground as though he’s lost something. “Heiðr’s people came running, and I surrendered.”
He blinks. “I didn’t see Ullr as they took me away. It was crowded.”
“If he doesn’t testify on your behalf, I will kill him.” The words are out of Bohdi’s mouth without his conscious thought. The inn groans.
“If he doesn’t, I will,” says Rush.
“I’m with you,” says Harding softly, lifting her chin.
Tucker huffs. “Thanks. But if you kill them, you’re all dead … aren’t you?”
“So what,” Bohdi snarls. “You’re not going to be a human sacrifice.” He looks to Steve. “We don’t believe in that.”
“No,” Steve says, jaw tight. “But we’ll wait until the verdict before we consider killing anyone.” To Gerðr, Steve says, “Will execution be immediate upon sentencing?”
The Frost Giant shakes her head. “No, it will be three days later. The accused will have the chance to say goodbye.”
“How civilized,” Tucker says, his tone uncharacteristically dry. He sounds old—it doesn’t fit his youthful appearance.
“We’ll wait for the sentence before we start planning Tucker’s jailbreak,” says Steve.
Bohdi flicks his lighter. A flame bites his thumb, even without it having fuel. Valli’s hand lands on his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” Loki’s son says cheerily. “Chaos is on your side—you have to win.” Suddenly all the attention is back on Bohdi. He almost sighs.
Redman and Tucker, who had been outside earlier, turn their heads sharply to Bohdi. But Larson turns to Steve. “Since you know everything, I suppose you knew about this?”
Meeting his glare head on, Steve says, “Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me,” Larson says. “That we had Loki with us!”
“He’s not Loki.” The words come from Gerðr.
Bohdi turns to the Giantess in surprise. She is the last person he would think would defend him. She gives him a sad sort of smile. “Mr. Patel is too human to be Loki.”
“What do you mean?” says Larson.
Eyes still on Bohdi, the Frost Giantess says softly, “When you caused the landslide, I wasn’t wearing the Promethean wire.” She touches her cap. “I was hiding Mr. Patel in a gully … and he was lying beneath me. He apologized for something he need not have apologized for.”
Bohdi remembers his body’s reaction to her, and his cheeks flush.
The Giantess continues. “Loki was not the worst of men … but he would never apologize.” Gerðr shakes her head and her eyes get distant. “I don’t understand humans. Some of you are among the worst creatures in the Nine Realms because you spout high ideals, but then don’t live up to them … at Guantanamo …”
Bohdi swears that the shoulders of every person in the room droop. She shakes her head again. “But when you live up to your ideals … I think you are the best of creatures.”
An awkward silence falls over the room.
Bohdi looks up to the Frost Giantess. He wants to say thank you, but her eyes are on the floor. His gaze goes to Larson. The color has left the lieutenant’s cheeks, and he looks like he might cry, or kill someone, or maybe both.
At last Berry coughs. “So, what do we do now?”
Steve looks at Bohdi. “Well, we have to keep you out of sight.” Instead of feeling claustrophobia, Bohdi thinks that might mean he’d have to stay in the inn during the day, alone with Amy … for the safety of the team.
His eyes go to the ceiling above his head. Then he remembers that she’s hiding from him, not just angry, frightened … and it feels like the whole inn is going to crash on his head.
Chapter 22
Amy sits at the top of the stairs, confused and shivering, listening to the conversation below. On her shoulder Mr. Squeakers cheeps. He’s been hiding in her room for the past two weeks, but perhaps sensing her distress, he decided to offer comfort.
She scratches his ears. What could Loki—Bohdi—have gotten out of this game? She knows what the other Loki, in the other universe, got from his game—a plaything and the potential for a magical child that could allow him to slip from Odin’s grip. In this universe, Loki’s last oath was to burn Asgard to the ground while Odin kneeled before him—did Bohdi want her to help him do that? But Bohdi said he didn’t want Asgard to be destroyed. To throw her off?