by C. Gockel
“He said the Norns told him Loki was bound to Hel and would be there soon,” Amy protests.
Bohdi shrugs. “Bound to Hel, as in bound to die quickly. A human lifetime isn’t long.” He puts a hand through his bangs. “And I do have a knack for getting into difficult situations.”
Amy closes her eyes. Her fists tighten at her sides. He’s preparing to die, like Loki was prepared to die when he tricked Cera, and like the other Loki, the full Chaotic Loki in the universe Cera destroyed, was prepared to die. “No, no, no …” she murmurs.
Bohdi whispers. “Amy, I’m sorry, I …”
Opening her eyes, she closes the distance between them fast. Wrapping her arms around him, she says, “You’re not allowed to die on me.” Not again.
Harding and Berry simultaneously sigh. Rush snorts. Amy swears she can hear Larson’s jaw popping and Steve rubbing his temples, but she doesn’t care.
Bohdi wraps his arms around her and pulls her tight. He huffs near into her hair. “Well, the goal is to avoid going to Hel as long as possible.”
Outside the inn, Fenrir howls. Amy hears the sound of wind and feels a gust of cold air. From the front room, Thomas, now on guard, shouts, “Thor, Ullr, and a bunch of Asgardians are headed this way.”
Amy looks over Bohdi’s shoulder. There’s the barest hint of light coming between the cracks in the shutters. Amy gasps, “It’s almost dawn, Tucker!”
The benches squeak and the table rattles as everyone stands up. Amy looks at Tucker; he doesn’t meet her eyes. His posture is rigid, but he looks more angry than afraid. Berry drops his hand on Tucker’s shoulder. “We’re all with you.”
“Yes,” says Bohdi.
Pointing at Bohdi, Steve says, “Not you. You stay here.” Then Steve, Tucker, and the rest of the team go into the front room, swinging their rifles around as they do.
Bohdi and Amy glance at each other for a moment, and then without a word, they slink over to listen beside the door to the hall.
There is the sound of the front door opening, and then Thomas says, “Thor and Ullr, Sir.”
Amy hears boots and heavy footsteps that can only be Thor. From the living room, Amy hears Ullr’s voice. “We are enemies. But we are on neutral ground. Even among enemies there can be honorable intentions and honorable men. I come to affirm that I saw what happened, and I know Mr. Tucker was justified in his actions.”
Amy’s mouth falls. Bohdi whispers, “I wonder if Thor pushed him?”
Steve’s voice rises from the front room. “Thank you.”
Amy peeks around the corner. Ullr gives a tight smile. “We should approach the great hall together; both of our parties are bound to be unpopular with the peasantry.”
“Great hall?” says Rush. “You mean the barn where we eat?”
Thor snorts. Ullr laughs … albeit nervously. “That is an apt description,” he says.
“We accept your offer,” Steve says. To the team, he says, “Let’s suit up.”
For a few minutes there is a flurry of activity as people put on their gear and exit the building. And then there is eerie silence. Bohdi and Amy leave the kitchen and find Beatrice, hands on her hips, staring at the door.
Turning around and wiping her hands, Beatrice says, “Well, that was exciting. I’m going to bed.” Amy blinks as her grandmother turns and goes up the stairs.
As soon as Beatrice is out of sight, Amy turns and pokes Bohdi in the chest. “I know you’re going to run off and play decoy as soon as spring comes.”
Bohdi’s eyes widen fractionally and then narrow. His teeth grind, and she thinks she can see all the gears in his brain spinning at once. She expects a denial, or a misdirection, but he is silent.
Poking him again, Amy says, “This isn’t going to be one of those deals where you run off and leave me behind to protect me, is it?”
Before she knows what is happening, he picks her up and hugs her so tight all the air is squeezed out of her.
Putting her down, he grins down at her. “You’re coming with me?”
She blinks. “Of course I am, you —”
He picks her up again and hugs her so tight she almost squeaks. Kissing her head, he says, “I’m so relieved. I thought I might have to convince you.”
Amy’s mouth falls open. Putting her down and releasing her, he rubs his neck, not quite meeting her eyes. “I’m pretty sure that Odin will figure out that all he would have to do to summon me to Asgard is to kidnap you.”
Amy swallows, and then all the little gerbils in her brain come to a full stop. That’s an awfully big pronouncement. She shakes her head and wills her brain gerbils back on their wheels. “We should probably do something big, to get his attention.” Her eyes widen. “Maybe we should go back to Earth and steal Loki’s sword, Laevithin. It still has Cera’s magical charge. If you had that, I bet you could World Walk, and walk the In Between whenever you wanted to without being tired.”
Bohdi blinks at her. “That’s not a bad idea.” Slipping his hands up to her shoulders, his eyes slide to the door.
Amy taps her chin. “We’d have to plan it …”
“Yep,” says Bohdi, sliding his hands down her arms. “But at the moment, I’m more worried about the team.” He looks to her and raises an eyebrow. “But I probably don’t have to. I mean, Thor’s with them, and Ullr’s not lying?”
Hand still on her chin, Amy shrugs. “Ullr is going to testify on Tucker’s behalf. I really don’t think there will be any trouble. But how to get Laevithin …”
Catching her hands, Bohdi says, “It can wait until we have more information.” He looks up at the ceiling, and Amy realizes how quiet the house is. Looking back down at her, he says, “I think I’d like to take a bath.” He smiles mischievously and meets her eyes. “I feel a little dirty.”
Amy tries to look mildly scandalized, but the corners of her lips are pulling up.
“Care to join me?” he asks.
Her eyes go from his eyes to his full lips. He starts to pull her backward. She sighs but doesn’t resist. Bohdi may be himself … but in some ways he is a lot like Loki.
Chapter 23
A few days after the big reveal, Amy is picking her way through the fires outside the refugee tents. The world did not stop spinning when the team discovered Bohdi was Chaos. The Asgardians didn’t break into the inn in the middle of the night.
She looks around. In fact, the more immediate concern is probably the refugees. Every day more people arrive. Most of them are not friendly. She tries not to look at the eyes that glare up at her as she walks by, the exonerated Tucker and Beatrice just a step behind her. Steve has assigned two guards to Amy. Harding was attacked a few nights ago. Apparently, her short stature made some of the newcomers doubtful that she could be a “warrior.” Things went very badly for them.
No one thinks Amy would fare as well in a confrontation, and everyone knows if she was caught alone there would be one. Frost Giant society isn’t particularly sexist—if you’re a warrior. Frost Giantesses who bear arms have all the rights of men. She looks into a tent and sees a woman stooping over a pot, her clothing noticeably more threadbare than the man drinking from a earthenware mug beside her. If you’re not a “warrior” and you’re a woman, a womanly man, or a child, you’re at the lowest rung of society.
She shivers. It’s like Asgardian society in a warped mirror. The Valkyries have all the rights and responsibilities of men—though Odin begrudged them those rights. On the flip side, Odin did his best to protect the women and children of Asgard. Even with the one creepy servant, Amy hadn’t felt as much on edge there as she does here.
A man with dark circles under his eyes casually slips a foot in front of Amy; Beatrice and Tucker’s rifles click. Withdrawing his foot, the man turns his head and spits. Amy swallows. “Thanks,” she whispers to Beatrice and to Tucker. They both nod, which Amy hopes means Tucker doesn’t hate her anymore.
She bites her lip and tries to make conversation. “I hear you used magic to
light a candle the other day,” she whispers to Tucker. “That’s really great.”
Not meeting her eyes, Tucker says, “Yeah, I know the basics of thermodynamics.” His jaw gets hard. “Back on Earth, magic is going to be just one more thing now to separate the haves from the have-nots, and the educated from the uneducated.”
Amy doesn’t know what to say to that. She nervously shifts the frozen fruit she’s carrying to her opposite arm, relieved to see the inn coming into view. She sees members of the team out in front, playing baseball with some Frost Giant warriors. Asgardians have joined them, too. They’re sprinkled between both teams. Ullr is among them—he nods at Tucker. After a beat, Tucker nods back.
Amy’s brows draw together. The human team could be fighting the Asgardians in a few months … it’s like Christmas in the trenches during WWI when the German and French soldiers had put down their weapons to celebrate the holiday and forget the war. It’s even cold like it had been then—Loki vividly remembers frost hanging in front of his nose as he and Thor met in the middle and shook hands. Thor had favored the Kaiser and Loki had ...
She blinks, passes through the cloud of her own breath, and the memory fades.
From where he stands on the pitching mound, Thomas says, “Want to join us?”
The tip of Amy’s nose is biting with cold—but it’s early afternoon, and Bohdi’s probably in the cavern practicing magic. A game would be just the thing to take her mind off his absence. “Sure!” Amy says, putting down the fruit.
“You’re on,” Beatrice adds.
Looking at Amy’s grandmother, one of the Asgardians says, “It’s the lion killer. We are doomed!” Everyone laughs, which makes the moment all the more surreal.
Thomas hurls a handmade ball of lion skin at Amy. She catches it with a grin.
And then from behind her comes the sound of gunfire. Dropping the ball and ducking, Amy touches her earpiece as all the SEALs swing their rifles around.
Rush’s voice comes over the channel. “… we have a situation near the great hall … we’ve become separated from Bjorna.”
Before Amy can catch her breath, all the guys are sprinting off to the sound of gunfire. The Asgardians and Frost Giants are left standing on the makeshift field, looking confused.
“Quick, inside,” Beatrice says. Gathering up the frozen fruit, Amy hastens with her grandmother into the inn.
x x x x
Steve opens the door of the building they set up outside of the cavern. Cold air hits his lungs in a sharp blast. He nods to Cruz and Fenrir, standing on guard outside the structure. “See anyone?” he asks.
“No, sir,” Cruz says. Steve’s lips purse. Bohdi’s little fib about the little building above the entrance to Gullveig’s cavern being an access tunnel to the old toilets has been surprisingly effective. The warriors are calling the building on top “the shit house.”
Beside Cruz, muzzle level with Steve’s shoulder, Fenrir barks in agreement. Steve scratches her behind the ear. It’s a bit disconcerting to realize you know when a wolf is in agreement.
Claire emerges from the building, and Steve drops his hand onto her shoulder. Berry, Larson, Redman, Bohdi, and Gerðr follow her out. As one, they start walking toward the inn.
Gerðr sidles up to Steve. “Mr. Patel’s abilities are developing unusually fast.” The Frost Giantess shakes her head. “Even with your unique … heritage, Mr. Patel, I am at a loss to explain it. I wonder if your magic matter is being stimulated in some way?”
“I’d say he’s being stimulated,” says Cruz.
Steve clears his throat meaningfully. Everyone knows Bohdi and Lewis are involved, but no one is mentioning it, especially not around Claire.
“That’s not magic matter,” says Gerðr. “Although I suppose those regions are well innervated and might be more susceptible to magical stimulation. But considering his partner is not magical, I’m not sure how that could be the case.”
Steve coughs, or more accurately, chokes. And then he feels that funny tickle at the back of his neck. Lewis might well be magical at this point ...
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bohdi says, remarkably keeping a straight face. Steve’s just about to breathe out a sigh of relief when Claire says, “They’re talking about sex, aren’t they?”
Steve’s eyeballs just about pop out of his head, and Bohdi starts to laugh.
“I knew it,” says Claire. Her tiny nose wrinkles. “Adults are gross.”
Steve pats her shoulder and silently wills her to maintain that attitude as long as possible.
Beside him Larson grunts. His face is tight, his eyes shifting between Bohdi and Gerðr.
Larson had confronted Steve about Bohdi’s “heritage” not long after Tucker was exonerated.
In the stairway to Gullveig’s cavern, the lieutenant caught him alone. “Patel’s real identity was important to the mission. I should have been told.”
Steve had carefully kept his voice neutral. “No one knows Patel’s secret identity, not even Patel, Lieutenant. Loki stole his memories from him.”
“You know what I mean,” Larson growled.
“If it was one of your men, would you have told me?” Steve asked.
There were several moments when the only sound was their steps on the worn stone stairway. “My men are loyal,” Larson ground out at last.
“Patel is loyal to humanity,” Steve had snapped back. “Which is an accomplishment considering some people wanted him sent to Guantanamo.”
Steve had tensely waited for a response, but Larson had given him none. Still, he catches the lieutenant staring at Bohdi through narrowed eyes occasionally, like now. Is it because Gerðr complimented the kid, or because Bohdi’s magic makes him nervous? Gerðr isn’t exaggerating; Bohdi is wielding more magic than the rest of them. He just lacks control—Steve’s very glad that they moved the gunpowder. It may be in airtight trunks, but Steve isn’t confident Bohdi’s magic wouldn’t undo them somehow. As it is, they’re keeping piles of sand in the cavern because Bohdi’s set the sparse furniture on fire more than once.
Steve’s headset crackles, he taps to receive, and Rush’s voice comes over the channel. “We have a situation near the great hall … we’ve become separated from Bjorna.”
Claire moves the fastest, but she’s immediately swept up into the trees. She roars with fury. In her anger, she must not remember to let her magic go because more branches snap toward her. To Gerðr, Steve says, “Watch her!”
Shots go off in the distance, and Steve sprints to catch up with the other members of the team already running in their direction. He catches up to Berry quickly, and he outpaces the shorter man. He sees Bohdi in the lead, followed by Larson a few steps behind, both charging past the first of the tents hugging Heiðr’s Keep. Lungs burning with cold air, Steve wills his legs to go faster, and then stops as a branch nearly trips him. Cursing, he tries to clutter his thoughts with everything that could be going wrong. Fortunately, Steve is naturally fast; he quickly catches up to Larson, but Bohdi is still pulling away in front of them. In the hard-packed snow by the tents, Larson and Steve slip, but Bohdi’s footing is weirdly unerring as he heads toward a crowd of peasant Frost Giants—Chaos in action?
Bohdi is just a few hundred meters from the inn when more shots go off. Bohdi screams—it is a cry of pure, unmitigated rage, and it makes every hair on the back of Steve’s neck stand on end. Branches snap toward Bohdi and haul him upward. Steve doesn’t know when the kid took out his pistol, but he sees it in his hands.
“What is he doing?” says Larson.
Slipping out his own Glock, Steve says, “He’s getting above the crowd.” And then he shuts up and quiets his mind to everything but the muscles in his legs … branches snap down to his feet, but he doesn’t let that distract him. When they snap around his ankles, he twists 180 degrees and lets himself be hauled feet first into the air. It keeps his hands free and points his body in the right direction.
He
lets his breathing even out, focusing on his whole body, down to his toes. Branches slide around his middle. He tries to mentally welcome them, trying to maintain the magic feeling. What he sees makes him almost lose it.
Less than three meters away, Bohdi swings in the branches, wrists bound above his head. He’s pummeling Frost Giants beneath him with his boots as they try to grab him. Beyond Bohdi, Steve makes out Rush and Nari fighting with Frost Giants for control of their rifles. A baby wail pierces the air from the crumpled mass on the ground in front of them.
It’s like the baby’s wail is wired directly to the finger on the trigger of his Glock. Steve fires his pistol at the heads of the Frost Giants nearest the cry. They waver, and sway, and then crumple. He hears another pistol fire and a rifle.
The crowd panics. The men fighting for control of Redman’s and Nari’s rifles break apart like leaves in a gale. Steve has to fight the urge to mow them down. One passes beneath Bohdi’s feet; Bohdi doesn’t restrain himself.
Nari lunges for the shape on the ground, shouting something to Redman. The tree branches snap from above and haul Nari and Bjorna, with Cannonball on her back, up into the air. Redman catches hold and avoids being trampled.
In the loosening branches, Steve pulls himself up in alarm and looks the way he came. Larson is in the trees, pistol out, branches holding him up by his armpits. His lips are curled back in a snarl. Steve looks for Berry … the stoic warrant officer is the poorest at magic. He doesn’t see him in the trees and for a moment he panics. But then he sees him stretched out on top of a tent shaped like a long house with a domed roof. His rifle is out, and his expression is unreadable behind the scope.
Bohdi lets out another cry of rage. For the first time Steve catches a whiff of smoke, singed skin, and burnt hair. Twisting around again, Steve sees some of the retreating Frost Giants beating flames in their hair and clothing, and a pile of kindling by someone’s tent that has roared to life. His eyes go up to Bohdi—every one of the kid’s limbs, and his stomach, is tied up in the branches. Steve’s heart falls. He’s caught up in his own mayhem, a metaphor for Chaos, perhaps? In the distance, Steve sees Asgardians approaching, following in the footsteps of Steve’s own team.