Ragnarok: I Bring the Fire Part VI (Loki Vowed Asgard Would Burn)

by C. Gockel

  “I fixed part of a perforated intestine with my mind!” Amy says. “You need me.”

  Bohdi takes a deep breath and tries to keep his words even. “We’ll have Thor for that.”

  Amy’s hands fly into the air. “What if he’s busy blowing things up?”

  Bohdi doesn’t answer her. It’s because she doesn’t blow things up that they can’t take her, and she knows it. Something tickles the back of his mind … he wants to reach out to her.

  Amy stops, and he nearly bumps into her. “You need me!” she shouts. “You need me for this.”

  “For your brain,” Bohdi says, more for himself than for her. The answer feels incomplete.

  “Yes! I’m at least as sneaky as you are.” She starts flying down the steps again. He jumps down a few stairs to catch up. Giving in to the need to touch her, he slides his hands down her sides. She stops again. She’s not wearing her parka and he can feel the curve of her hip and imagine the softness of her skin. He steps down so they’re on the same stair and turns her toward him. She doesn’t resist. He wishes he could back her all the way against the wall, but ... “There’s something more, isn’t there, Amy?” Something is tickling the back of his mind.

  Amy’s mouth opens. Her lower lip is so plump, kissable, bitable, and delicious, and he wants her so much. But there is one secret between them, and he has to know. “It’s something about that time, that missing hour.”

  Her hands fly to her face. “I …” Her forehead crumples, and he feels like a heel. From up the stairs comes Claire’s voice. “Let me go! Let me go! He’s my dad! I have to come, too!”

  “Be quiet, young lady,” Beatrice snaps. Remarkably, Claire is quiet. Bohdi blinks. They’re in the part of the stairwell where there are barely any iron wood tree roots. Is hushing errant children Beatrice’s magical granny power?

  Somehow in the past few moments, Bohdi has pushed Amy against the wall, and one of his legs is between hers in a way that is probably not granny approved. Bohdi draws back. Amy is still clutching her head, and he feels a lump forming in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, leaning forward to kiss the top of her head.

  She pulls away as though he was about to strike her. Bohdi wants to say something, but Beatrice rounds the last spiral of the staircase. In one hand she holds her umbrella, with her other hand she’s dragging a strangely dazed-looking Claire.

  Beatrice points the umbrella at Bohdi. “Amy can’t die. I’ll keep them both here. You have to leave.”

  “Grandma!” Amy says.

  Bohdi turns back to Amy. “Amy, I’m sorry. I …” He swallows. He’s said “I love you” to lots of girls, normally with a cheeky grin, so they knew he was joking. Maybe that’s why at the moment the words feel too small, like not enough. His lips part, and then he thinks of something he can say. “I’ll find my way back to you,” he whispers. One way or another, they’re bound to each other, he’s certain of it.

  Eyes widening, Amy drops her hands from her head. “Don’t do this to me again!”

  From the top of the stairs comes Berry’s voice, “Patel, we have to go. It’s almost sunrise.”

  “I have to go,” he says.

  “We have to go,” Amy says. She slips her fingers into his. Bohdi kisses her forehead, and she doesn’t pull away. He squeezes her fingers. Maybe he can just let Larson say no to her joining the team. His shoulders relax. Larson is hard ass enough to shoot a traitor; he’ll make Amy stay behind.

  Together they turn and walk up the stairs. Above them, Beatrice doesn’t budge. She points her umbrella at Amy. “Stop, Amy.”

  Amy slips her hand away from Bohdi’s, as though to push the umbrella out of the way. Beatrice’s eyes go wide, and she takes a backward step up the stairs, the mute Claire beside her. And then Amy’s jaw goes slack, her hand falls on the umbrella, but doesn’t shove it away. She stares at Beatrice.

  “Go, Bohdi,” Beatrice says.

  Bohdi’s eyes go rapidly between the two women and girl. Amy’s eyes are wide with shock, Claire’s eyes are strangely empty. He feels magic in the air and isn’t sure of the source.

  Above him, Berry says, “Patel!”

  Beatrice glares at him with such force he almost backs against the wall. He swallows. It will be better for Amy and for Claire this way. Ducking his head, Bohdi goes up the stairs, but gravity feels like it is increasing with every step.

  He enters the room at the top of the stairs. Berry is holding the door open. Harding is sitting on the floor playing with the only comm box not destroyed by Tucker’s explosion. She’s staying behind, too, and not happy about it, but like a good Marine, she follows orders. She doesn’t look up at Bohdi; instead she mutters, “Swear I heard something.”

  On the cot, Rush grunts and nods at Bohdi. “Good luck, Hadji,” and then smiles with all his teeth.

  Bohdi’s lip curls, but Berry grabs his arm and steers him out the door. Ahead of them are the snowmobiles, charged up and ready to go. A new makeshift sled is behind one of the two seaters, laden with saplings and the only set of Harpy wings Gerðr and Sigyn believe are still reliable. They don’t have much gear this time—not just because Tucker blew it up—but because they don’t expect to come back. He glances at the two seater Redman’s on. From the passenger seat, Thor gives him a nod. Bohdi manages to nod back but feels hollow inside.

  His eyes slide over the team. Gerðr is sharing a one-seater snowmobile with Larson. The team agreed she’s better in a fight than Nari—especially in close combat—and she’s slender enough to wear the one working pair of Harpy wings. Larson didn’t want her coming, but he looks pretty comfortable now. Bohdi scowls. Valli is seated behind Sigyn. He’s talking to Nari, leaning over the sled. “Don’t get too angry,” Nari says. “You know what can happen when you get really angry.”

  “Don’t be too much of a coward,” Valli counters with a snort. And then a little softer, he says, “One of us has to protect mother.”

  “It’s more likely she’ll protect you!” says Nari.

  Larson clears his throat, and Sigyn says, “Hush boys, it’s time.”

  Bohdi goes to sit behind Park. Berry gets on his own vehicle. Cruz and Thomas nod, on their own machines and ready to go. Bohdi closes his eyes. Ten people against an empire. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. He’s made it to Asgard and back before with less; they’ll be able to do this. Park puts the snowmobile in gear, and they begin to silently cruise away. Bohdi bows his head. Who is he trying to kid? They’ll never make it.

  x x x x

  Claire blinks her eyes. She’s sweaty in her parka, even though she’s only been in the comparative warmth of the stairwell for a few minutes. Everything is pitch black, and her heart rate jumps from zero to sixty before she can blink again. Somewhere, someone is shouting. She hears words. They fall like a jumble of blocks. The words are in Frost Giantish. Claire takes a deep breath, relaxes, and understands. “We need Dr. Lewis! There is a man, a creature, in the crater, asking for her.”

  A light goes on; it’s Dr. Amy’s phone. Claire sees Beatrice whacking at a root from an iron wood tree that has burst from between the great stone slabs that line the stairwell. The root is wrapped around her umbrella. Claire blinks. There shouldn’t be roots this low. It must have grown; to grow it would need to be attracted to something really strong. Claire’s mouth drops. The umbrella—the umbrella is magic!

  “Beatrice,” Dr. Amy exclaims, sounding really mad. “What have you done?” Dr. Amy pushes between Claire and Beatrice and starts to race up the stairs. Claire follows. They have to catch up to Bohdi and the SEAL team!

  Claire feels bad because Dr. Amy is a little slower than she is, so she grabs her hand. In the stairwell there are no trees. She wills that magic feeling into her legs—the stairs seem to fly beneath her, even as roots shoot from the wall in her wake. She’s dimly aware of Dr. Amy stumbling and breathlessly saying, “Thanks.”

  From below them comes Beatrice’s voice and the old woman’s footsteps. “I had
to, Amy. You can’t die! You can’t die!”

  Claire and Dr. Amy are already at the tunnel mouth. The roots are starting to reach for Claire. She takes a deep breath and thinks of something that annoys her. The tiny fatty fish that Dr. Amy makes her eat at breakfast every day comes to mind. Dr. Amy makes Claire eat it because she needs vitamin D and her skin is too dark to absorb enough sunlight. She snorts— the fish are nasty things. She’d never eat them if she weren’t so hungry all the time, vitamin D or not.

  Her irritation makes that magic feeling go away, and no roots touch her as she and Dr. Amy enter the room. Bjorna and Gem are standing close to Rush, the SEAL she doesn’t like, who always looks past her instead of at her. Rush is still in bed, but he’s sitting up and has a M4 aimed at a Frost Giant. Harding is talking to a Frost Giant, her rifle is down, and she’s saying, “Calm down, Sir. Would you please calm down and explain?”

  Dr. Amy shouts. “It’s nearly noon!”

  Claire looks to the window. When she went down the stairwell with Beatrice it was still dark outside. Her heart drops. “They’ve left, haven’t they?”

  “Yeah, kid,” Rush says, not looking at her. “You don’t belong with them; appreciate it.”

  Claire runs her tongue over her teeth, eyes on Rush. She wants to punch him, or shake him, or grab his head and make him look at her, make him see her. Her hands ball into fists and her skin heats. Something tickles her foot. She doesn’t have to look, she knows it’s a tree root—she’s getting that magic feeling again.

  Taking a deep breath, she makes herself think of fish—disgusting, boiled, smelly fish.

  Nari bursts in the door. He gives a quick nod to Claire. Claire narrows her eyes at him. There’s something about Nari—he’s too nice, too anxious to please—she doesn’t trust him as much as Valli, but even Valli annoys her. Not because of anything logical, it’s just that Harding is always saying he’s “hot,” and that annoys her. She hates to think she’ll ever be a grownup and be so distracted by sex. Blech.

  Turning his gaze to Dr. Amy, the son of Loki gulps with such force that Claire sees his Adam’s apple jump in his throat. “Dr. Lewis, there is a crowd of Frost Giants outside. They are very unnerved. A … being … calling himself Daevas has arrived at the crater site.”

  “Being?” says Dr. Amy, rushing forward.

  The Frost Giant in the room says, “He is hiding his true nature, we know it. And he won’t come beyond the trees. And when we shot him, he just pulled out the arrow.”

  “What?” says Dr. Amy.

  “He’s asking for you.” The Frost Giant stutters, “Says you know him.”

  Dr. Amy’s jaw falls open, and she gives what Claire’s dad calls, “That confused Scooby Doo look.” And then she grabs her parka and throws it on.

  “Amy … Dr. Lewis,” says Harding. “Maybe Nari and I should go and check it out?”

  But Dr. Amy is already rushing through the door. Claire follows on her heels. They both nearly plow into Fenrir’s behind. The dog is sitting right in front of the door, guarding the way. Peeking around her enormous back, Claire sees a semi-circle of Frost Giants surrounding the little building.

  “Come on, Fenrir,” Dr. Amy mutters. “Let’s go.”

  Mr. Squeakers gives a cheep and sticks his nose out of a shiny cobweb nest between Fenrir’s ears. He waves one of his velvety black arms, and there is a gasp from the crowd. “You, too, Squeaks,” Dr. Amy says.

  The giant-wolf-dog gets to her feet. The Frost Giants, warriors and poor people alike, part as Fenrir lopes forward, Dr. Amy in her wake, Claire a step behind her. Dr. Amy heads in the direction of what the locals call the Keep, but Claire calls the Camp Ground. Now that the pretty little dwarf inn is gone, it’s just a whole bunch of buildings that no one would even keep as sheds in Chicago, and there are tents, more and more tents everyday.

  “Amy, wait,” Beatrice cries from behind them. Dr. Amy doesn’t wait, or even look back, but Claire spares a glance. Beatrice is hot on their heels. Behind her are Harding, Nari, Bjorna, and Gem. She blinks. Rush hobbles out of the tiny little house the SEALs built over the cavern entrance. Claire’s pretty sure that Dr. Amy told him to stay put a while ago.

  Claire looks north, toward the sea. The team is gone. She knows their plan. Head to the sea, get a boat. Put the little saplings on the boat to hide it. Sail through the arch, into Hel, walk through a World Gate there to Asgard, and find her dad. She looks in the direction she’s going now. She knows the Daevas guy is supposed to take them back to Earth.

  Her footsteps slow so much that Beatrice rushes past her, and then Nari and the rest. Beatrice is still asking for Dr. Amy to wait. Harding is saying maybe they should talk to Daevas. The crowd of Frost Giants walk past Claire … and then Rush passes her too. As usual he doesn’t look at her, but he grunts out, “Come on, kid.”

  She slows to a stop.

  Rush staggers ahead, head bent, hands gripping his middle. “Can’t chase after you, kid,” he mutters.

  He can’t chase her. Claire looks past him and sees Dr. Amy and the others that were left behind. They are safety and security, and she wants to run to them and be surrounded by the noise of people. She looks the other way, northward through the trees. At ground level she can’t see the ocean, but she knows it’s there—and so are Bohdi and the team.

  She bites her lip. She is so afraid, she feels tears welling in her eyes. But she thinks of what Odin did to Mr. Tucker and what he could be doing to her dad. She blinks her tears away. She promised her father she’d never be weak. With a small cry of fury, she breaks into a run, careful to fill her mind with thoughts of boiled fish. The virgin snow is about eight inches high, and it slows her progress, but at least running keeps her warm, and she doesn’t need magic to be a good runner.

  At the edge of the mesa, Claire stops and takes a deep breath. The mesa is like a tiered wedding cake. For the first time she can see the ocean, but her vision is partially obscured by tree branches from the middle tier of the cake. She thinks she makes out a boat being pushed from the beach into the sea. She scowls. No, they can’t be that far ahead of her. They can’t be. She looks down the cliff face—it’s a forty-foot drop.

  Her hands ball into fists inside her mittens. No, this isn’t the end. She is not weak. She will not be afraid.

  Trembling, Claire backs up. She lets her hands uncurl, takes a deep breath, stands just as she was taught to stand by her ballet instructors, and turns on the music in her head—sometimes she turns on her magic when she’s angry, but when she’s dancing, it’s better. “Daddy, I’m coming,” she whispers. She doesn’t run, lifting her arms, stretching out a leg, she does a pique turn, another, and another. She spins faster and faster, tree branches whip toward her but none catch her until she leaps—lifting her arms high above her head and pushing her legs up into the splits as she soars over the cliff’s edge.

  Chapter 30

  Steve sits with his head bowed at a long table set with gold place settings and dishware made of delicate porcelain inlaid with mother of pearl. He’s wearing clothing that isn’t his own. It is simple but fits him perfectly—nothing like a prisoner’s garb. The room he is in is warm, but he feels cold all over. He is being treated like a guest, which can mean only one thing: they expect Bohdi is coming.

  His limbs feel stiff and heavy, whether from the aftereffects of spider mouse venom or the realization that they are expecting Bodhi, he is isn’t sure. Silverware clinks across from him. Steve raises his eyes. A beautiful woman sits there. She has light brown hair and tan skin but piercing blue eyes. She wears a diaphanous gown of the same hue. She looks like she is no more than twenty-six. He fights with his brain to remember she is much older than he is. She is Queen Frigga of Asgard, Amy and Bohdi’s would-be savior, and he has to be careful not to underestimate her.

  “Are you enjoying the meal, Captain Rogers?” she asks in perfect English, with just the hint of a British accent. She has been asking him other such innocuous questions. He’s r
esponded just as innocuously and always truthfully.

  “The food is delicious,” Steve says, which is only a slight evasion. His eyes slide to the head of the table where Odin sits. The Allfather is reading a scroll and scowling, seemingly oblivious to his presence. Steve’s jaw gets hard. He’s not being treated like a guest, he’s being treated like family. It doesn’t make him any more comfortable.

  Steve focuses on his food, taking a bite of purple fruit, trying to stay calm. He scans the room—and meets eyes with an unsmiling Einherjar who has skin nearly as dark as Steve’s.

  Frigga says something, the words rolling over Steve without him comprehending any of them. Steve blinks. No, that’s not quite true, it sounds like the language the Frost Giants use, but smoother, more flowing. Focusing on his plate, he practices mindfulness and reaches for his magic ...

  Voice sweet, Frigga says in Asgardian, “He understands Frost Giant, I am sure, but not Asgardian.”

  “Do not argue with me at the table, woman,” Odin responds in the same tongue.

  “I will discuss anything I like at my table,” Frigga responds. “You should have gone to meet with Mr. Patel in Jotunheim when he asked you to.”

  Steve wants to drop his fork. Instead he exhales slowly and carefully brings a piece of fruit to his mouth, trying to stay in the right mindset to understand their words without revealing his understanding.

  “But I did not, and now he is coming to me, just as I planned,” Odin says.

  Steve takes a too-sharp breath. No, Bohdi, no, no, no … He closes his eyes, and then he realizes his outward calm has momentarily slipped. Frigga seems not to have noticed. “It will never go as you planned—you are dealing with Chaos!”

  “I’ve managed to control Chaos for nearly a thousand years, woman,” Odin says, eyes not leaving his scroll.

  “With brotherhood and nurturing you did control him! But kidnapping his friend is the opposite of the spirit of brotherhood. You must release the captain.”