by C. Gockel
But they’re already in the cold blackness of the In Between, faces alight with only Laevithin’s cold glow. Amy feels Bohdi’s hand warm in her own, squeezes, and then her ears are popping, and they’re there.
Amy smells dust, blood, and sweat. She blinks rapidly, her eyes adjusting to the light. All she sees is the backs of a group of Frost Giants. She blinks again, and the Frost Giants spin toward them: Magi, Modi, Queen Jarnsaxa, Ragnar, and Ralf are among the crowd.
“Rogers! Tell your warriors to back down!”commands Modi.
“Back down from what?” Steve asks, his voice the perfect facsimile of surprised curiosity.
The crowd of Frost Giants part, and Amy gasps. Queen Frigga is backed against a far wall, Nari is shielding her body with his own, and Harding is standing in front of them both, her M4 raised to the Frost Giants that surround them.
“No one comes closer,” the tiny Marine says.
“She is Grandfather’s wife!” Magi roars. “And his servant Jörmungandr slayed my father.”
“How did you get here?” Rush asks.
Not lowering her M4, Harding says, “Found Thor dead, couldn’t find Claire, went back to Heiðr’s Keep, walked through the World Gate Odin created, and found ourselves here.”
Amy looks to Steve. For the briefest of seconds, she sees a look of sorrow pass over his features. But then he steps toward Magi and says, “Odin is dead, I killed him. Queen Frigga has lost a husband as you have lost a father. You are even.”
Murmurs rise through the Frost Giants. Jarnsaxa raises an eyebrow. Magi and Modi look at each other.
Steve puts a hand to his chest. “And, since I killed Odin, she is part of our tribe, and we are honor-bound to protect her.”
Ragnar scratches his shaggy blonde head. “Don’t you mean she’s your wife?”
A flicker of surprise passes over Steve’s face, but he schools it quickly. And then his brow furrows, and Amy can see all the gerbil wheels in his brain spinning. By Steve’s side, Sigyn says, “By tradition, you are Asgard’s king, and Queen Frigga—”
“Is yours,” the Queen says quietly.
“Uh-oh,” whispers Bohdi. All the humans look to Steve with mouths open and eyes wide.
Something flashes in Steve’s eyes, too much for Amy to decipher. But then he says, “Queen Frigga, you are both beautiful and wise, and it would be an honor for any man to be your husband. However, I do not wish to be king.”
The murmurs that rise up in the room are loud enough to cover up the sound of Bohdi’s sneeze to everyone but Amy. Amy’s limbs suddenly feel cold and heavy. All of the humans are looking approvingly at Steve. Sigyn’s eyes are sparkling; and Nari has straightened from his defensive crouch, his chin is high, and he’s smiling.
Steve continues, “Asgard needs change, not a new king. Her people are crying for it. Nari and Valli can help that change come to pass. In the meantime, Asgard would be better served by the gentle but firm hand of a queen. Queen Frigga, I know you are up to that task.”
The Queen’s shoulders relax. “Asgard’s new ruler—however temporary—has also shown great wisdom. Although such a man would be a prize for any woman, I accept his proposal—”
Amy doesn’t hear the rest, because Bohdi is dragging her from the throne room out onto a balcony that overlooks the city. Odin’s illusions have fallen from Asgard’s spires. Now instead of gleaming golden towers, the buildings are gray and imposing—they look like Soviet block architecture. A gentle rain is still falling, intensifying the gray gloom. She can’t see any fire, but she can hear plasma blasts from different places in the city, the roar of Fire Giants and … “I hear screaming and sobbing,” she says. She puts her free hand to her mouth. She had wished for her hearing to be sharper, and now she wishes she hadn’t.
Frowning, Bohdi steps closer to the railing, drawing her with him. “I could slip through the In Between, crash their parties and …” He drops his head. “I could …” He doesn’t finish, but Amy knows what he means. He could destroy the Fire Giants. He puts a hand through his bangs. “If I just dragged them through the In Between I don’t know a place on Asgard where I could leave them safely.”
Amy hears a child crying and closes her eyes.
A burst of flame sparks in the misty air. “I don’t know what to do, Amy. Should I kill the Fire Giants?”
“No.”
Amy turns and finds Steve at the entrance to the throne room. He is flanked by Nari, Sigyn, Larson, and the Queen.
“Isn’t destruction my job?” Bohdi asks, his jaw tight.
“Sometimes,” Steve says. “But you don’t need to destroy the Fire Giants, and you don’t want to, Bohdi. At this point, they are really just fighting for their lives.”
Amy watches the tension leave Bohdi’s body.
“You aren’t limited to your capabilities, Bohdi,” Steve says, his voice kind, soothing, fatherly. “You have Lewis. Maybe, between the two of you, instead of death, you can think of some prank?” He raises an eyebrow.
Bohdi’s lips part, and then his eyes shift to hers. “If I took you through the In Between, to the heart of the conflict—”
All Amy’s brain gerbils hop on their wheels and start running, and Amy realizes that tension has left her body as well. Had she been afraid that Steve would turn Bohdi into his executioner, like Odin had done to Loki? She grins. “I could open a World Gate about oh, say ten feet above the ground on their home world. They’d fall through the hole and—”
“I can destroy the World Gate,” Bohdi says. “I read about it in Lothur’s journal.”
His eyes shift to Steve. “Of course, we’d need Laevithin to do that.”
Steve smiles, and it actually looks genuine. “You two are the only people in the universe I would trust with that sword. Put on some armor before you go, though.” Steve winks. “Have fun.”
Bohdi’s jaw gets hard as Steve walks away, followed by his retinue, giving some orders to Rush. Only Beatrice remains behind, her pink umbrella open in the misting rain.
“He’s using us,” Bohdi says softly. “I saw inside his head when I was dead, Amy. He may care, but his brain, even before being the Incarnation of Order thing … he’s not like us. He will do what is strategic, what is tactical, and sometimes if that doesn’t coincide with the right thing …” His voice trails off.
Amy bites her lip. She doesn’t disagree. She and Steve have their own history.
Her grandmother clears her throat. “None of us are unflawed,” she says. She looks down at the ground. “The question you have to ask yourself now is if what he is asking you to do is the right thing.”
The sound of more plasma fire echoes from the city. Amy takes Bohdi’s free hand. “We can help and we should.”
x x x x
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” The Asgardian shop owner cries, thumping Bohdi on the back with so much force that if he weren’t wearing armor he’d probably have bruises. “You saved us from those vicious savages!”
Pulling back, Bohdi smiles at the man, his wife, and three daughters. One of the girls winks at him. Bohdi looks quickly to Amy. She’s dressed in Einherjar armor that hides her curves and is a little too big. She takes off her helmet, and her hair is as askew as his probably is. They started their task in the late morning, and now it is late evening. Her face flickers in the light of a torch—Asgard seems to have lost the magical lighting they’d experienced last time. Or maybe the common people never had glowing orbs or magical butterflies?
Pushing a lock behind her ear, he meets her eyes. “That’s the last of them.” He feels his chest puff a little. Saving the ordinary Asgardians from the Fire Giants—being the good guy—has been pretty great, even though he would have liked to have seen more of Musseslpheim, the Fire Giant realm. They dropped off the Fire Giants in the middle of the night, and Fire Giants don’t have electricity, orbs or butterflies.
She puts her hand over his on the pommel of Laevithin. “Let’s go back then.” He glances down at her
tiny fingers, still a little awed that such small hands could have struggled with Odin.
“We’ll never forget you!” says the wife, just before Bohdi and Amy pass through the In Between.
He drops them on the balcony they left from … and finds himself face to face with Ruth, Steve’s mother.
“Bohdi!” she cries, throwing up her hands. “It’s so good to see you.” Then he’s caught in a hug before he can get a word out. He hears Henry’s voice. “There he is!” And he feels the old man thumping him on his back.
It’s great to see them, but something nags at Bohdi’s consciousness. From the throne room he hears English … a lot of English.
“Who’s here?” says Amy.
“Oh, just about all the members of the human resistance!” says Ruth, pulling away from Bohdi to give Amy a hug. “Steve got us all out!”
Dark thoughts start to swirl in Bohdi’s brain. “Steve brought the resistance here?”
Ruth nods, smiling kindly. That Steve would bring her and Henry here isn’t surprising—but the whole of the resistance? Bohdi backs away, smiling at Ruth, but feeling a growing sense of unease.
Pulling Amy’s hand, he starts toward the throne room. He’s in such a rush, they nearly bump into the Elf Guy from the prison. Elf Guy doesn’t even notice. He has an arm around the waist of a human woman—and weirdly, Bohdi can instantly feel that she isn’t magical. The woman is very striking—of African descent, tall, athletically built, and dressed to the nines. Elf Guy’s eyes are glued to her.
“I never thought I’d see you again,” the woman says.
Bohdi pulls Amy around them into the throne room and doesn’t catch the rest.
Looking over her shoulder at the couple, Amy taps her lip. “Wow, I wonder how they met.”
“We have to find Steve,” Bohdi says. Gripping Laevithin tighter, he pulls her through a crowd of Dark Elves, Fire Giants, Frost Giants, humans, and Einherjar. Odin’s former warriors are roaming the room, not talking or laughing—they have the air of police officers at a street festival … which is why when an Einherjar Bohdi has never seen before catches his shoulder, he jumps a little.
Bowing deeply, the man says, “Excuse me, His Excellency, Director-Captain Rogers is in the council chambers. We were ordered to take you to him, but his Excellency suggested you might want food first.”
The word ‘food’ makes Bohdi’s stomach growl, but his hunger is overwhelmed by his disgust at the man’s words. “His Excellency?” Bohdi snaps. “You’re calling him His Excellency?”
The Einherjar looks to be perhaps of Middle Eastern descent, but at Bohdi’s words he goes nearly as pale as Amy. “Was that not respectful enough, Your Excellencies?”
Bohdi takes a step back. At his side, Amy says softly, “Did you just call us Your Excellencies?”
The man sinks to one knee, puts his hand over his heart and bows his head. “His Esteemed Excellency said that you were due the same respect as him. I am so sorry and beg forgiveness if I have offended, but we really do not know how to address His Greatness as he has expressly forbidden Your Majesty.”
“Please,” Amy whispers through clenched teeth, “stand up, we’re attracting attention.”
Bohdi glances around the room. Sure enough, a hush has fallen.
The Einherjar climbs to his feet. “Take us to Steve,” Bohdi says.
“Right this way,” says the Einherjar, and the other Einherjar push back the crowd to let them pass—which is weird and unsettling.
Their guide leads them through a long hallway. As he leads, he says, “We are hopeful, of course, that your Excellencies will convince his Excellency that Asgard needs a king.”
Bohdi scowls at him. “Asgard does not need a king.”
The man’s face goes dark, and he looks away.
Here and there a few magical glowing butterflies flutter, and there are glowing orbs set at sparse intervals; but it is still very different from last visit. Instead of marble and white-washed walls there is only concrete—on the floor, the walls, and the ceilings.
Their guide takes them into a huge room with double doors at one end. Einherjar and several members of the SEAL team stand guard. In the middle of the room, Fenrir lays on her side, snoring softly. Claire is leaning against the enormous wolf-dog, fast asleep, one hand on Thor’s hammer. Bohdi gulps—is it hers now?
Their guide tsks. “That is no way for a princess to sleep.” The hairs on Bohdi’s neck prickle. Their guide leads them to the double doors and the SEALs nod. With a bow, their guide opens the door, and Bohdi and Amy enter the room beyond.
Steve is sitting at an enormous round conference table. Across from him is Queen Frigga. Between them on the near side of the table are Larson, Gerðr, Berry, Brett, Bryant, and Laura Stodgill, who is sitting too close to the adze guy. Bohdi can feel the adze’s gaze as it passes over him and goes to Amy. The creature stares at her with hawk-like intensity. “I really have to help him,” Amy murmurs. Bohdi doesn’t ask what about.
Beatrice sits with Mr. Squeakers on her shoulder. Nari, Valli, Sigyn, and a skinny magic guy in jeans and a Schrodinger’s Cat t-shirt are also at the table. “That’s Hoenir,” Amy whispers.
There are also a handful of other Asgardians in simpler clothing much like that of the shopkeepers and common people he and Amy have been seeing all day. “I think those might be members of the Asgardian resistance movement,” Amy whispers.
On the far side of the table is Dale, with Sleipnir leaning over his shoulder. There are also some guys who look youngish, but they have pinched faces that make them look old. They all wear black silk robes. “That’s the Diar, Odin’s council,” Amy whispers.
Steve stands from his chair. As he stands, all the Diar do, too.
“Dr. Lewis, Mr. Patel, please, come have a seat.” Steve gestures toward two empty seats at his right side.
Bohdi tightens his grip on Laevithin and Amy’s hand. “We’d like to speak with you.”
“In private,” Amy says, squeezing Bohdi’s hand.
One of the pinched face guys leans toward Steve. “Your Maj—Your Excellency, you must not go with him! Especially not while he holds the sword!”
Steve’s eyes flick to the guy. “Your concern toward my person is noted.”
Pinched Face guy bows.
“But unnecessary,” Steve finishes. He turns to Amy and Bohdi and gestures toward a small side door with his hand. “There is a library this way. It’s private.”
With that, he turns on his heel to the door in a way that is infuriatingly formal … even at the office Steve would have shown some signs of friendship, at least an eye roll.
And then it occurs to Bohdi that Steve is showing him his back. When he gets to the little side door, Steve opens it for them and nods for them to go through—like an equal. Bohdi glances over his shoulder. The adze—Daevas—is still glaring at Amy, tapping a finger on the table and looking impatient. For their part, the Asgardians are open-mouthed and look scandalized. Bohdi is just confused.
Chapter 39
As soon as the door of the library closes, Bohdi blurts out, “What do you want, Steve?” The wood in the fireplace bursts into flame.
Steve, Bohdi’s maybe-sort-of-possibly-former friend, walks over to a little sitting area with three soft, high-backed chairs arranged around a small table. Sinking into the most worn-looking one, he puts his hands over his eyes.
Bohdi stalks closer. “And don’t tell me you don’t want to be king, I know you lied.”
Steve parts the fingers over the hand with his good eye. He blinks up at Bohdi. Leaning back, he inclines his head to the other chairs. “Why don’t you both sit down?”
Bohdi doesn’t move, and neither does Amy.
Steve sighs. “You know, some people would say everyone wants to be king.”
“Errr … no,” says Amy.
Bohdi gives him a smile with all his teeth. “Sounds like one long staff meeting to me.”
Steve huffs a soft laugh. Putting d
own his hands, he says softly, “I could marry Frigga, become king—and everything would be easy. Every Asgardian in the realm would jump at my whim. I could restore Asgard to at least a shadow of its former glory and spend the next hundred years here in relative peace.”
“Sounds boring,” says Bohdi.
“I kind of thought you and Sigyn had a thing ...” says Amy, tapping her lower lip.
Steve sighs again, and he sounds more weary than Bohdi ever heard him, even when they were starving in the forests of Jotunheim. Meeting their eyes, he says, “I would lose her. But my daughter, my parents, Sigyn, you two ... everyone you saw in the conference room and the throne room—we could all be safe, and happy, at least for a while.”
“Asgard doesn’t have video games,” Bohdi quips, though what he means is electricity, television, music—culture—for everyone.
“Or new science,” says Amy, “all their science is old.” She says the word old like most people say mold.
Steve looks up at them, and then rubbing the bridge of his nose, he laughs like they have said the funniest thing in the world. When he’s finally done, his black eye is twinkling.
“Sit, please,” he says. “I’m not going to kill you—you’re going to kill me.”
“That’s a little paranoid, Steve,” snaps Bohdi.
“Kind of early in your reign to be feeling that way,” Amy mutters.
Steve’s face gets very serious. “And when you do kill me, I’ll deserve it.”
Somewhere in the room a clock chimes, once—and then again, and once more. Steve sits completely motionless in his seat, his single eye unblinking, but moving between them both. Slipping her hand from his, Amy walks over and plunks herself down in one of the chairs. Bohdi follows suit, carefully laying the flat side of Laevithin across his lap. He’s wearing magical armor, but the blade can slice through it with just a little effort. He tested it earlier in the armory.
Steepling his fingers, Steve says, “It wouldn’t work forever, of course, holing up here in Asgard ... Did you two see Lionel and Tara?”
“The Light Elf and his girlfriend?” says Amy. “Yes.”