“I’d make you a musical espresso every morning when we rise, Hjara.”
I wanted nothing more than to bottle this up. It would disappear way before I wanted it to. His words sought to act like balsam, but I knew what we were up against. He was a traitor to the gods and destined to fight against them in Ragnarok, and that prophecy was all Odin cared about. All of the chaos built up around us was a result of that.
But this was what we had. Five minutes in a twenty-four-hour period, if that.
“Don’t you think we should consider the consequences?” I placed my hands on his chest and felt his warmth. Not a mirage of him, but he was physically there.
My mistake was giving him a chance. He cupped my chin, and I could get lost in that gaze. Still heated, and if I let him, we’d find our way back to my discovering the power of his godly touch, with his hands, fingers, and tongue, and I could finally figure out the meaning of that tattoo he sported on his back. What I loved about him is that he saw me—not who they said I was, but just me. And that was surely magical.
But, I wouldn’ t be the one to make the first move, to try to see where this could go, again. His touch was like a drug that made me want to say his name as he gave me toe-curling pleasure that made me forget everything except us. In our secret place, this was all that could last. I could forget about what it was like out there on the streets, or even in Asgard and just love what it meant to be with him. I could ditch what they wanted from me, and enjoy myself, every Goth inch of him. I ran my tongue over his lips. Every delicious and godly inch.
“I know you hate hiding, but I am not exactly welcomed in your neighborhood.”
“But you are with me,” I said, and felt the thudding of his heart under my hand. He reached down and looked at the amulet that hung around my neck. “I’m here touching you right now.” I leaned into his touch. For this moment he was mine, and every cell of my body hummed. I loved him. I hated him.
“We can’t keep doing this. Soon they will figure out that things are not as they appear.” He pulled away. “I hear that they are trying to play matchmaker with you and the heroic Thor.”
The prophecies told of how things were supposed to turn out. I might as well have been walking around with a sign that declared me Thor’s wife. But my heart didn’t seem to want to obey. It was like an arranged marriage, and the pressure would rise. I shook my head to rid me of their truth.
“You aren’t jealous, are you?” I cupped his face. “You are home to me, and that means more to me than you will ever know.”
The more my words sought to pull us back together, the threat of Thor seemed to wedge its way in between.
“You have to be mine, and as of yet, I have yet to hear you pray to me, love.”
I threw back my head and laughed. Only Loki could get to the point of declaring some feat of love and compare it to prayer. “Well, from what I remember, you were screaming my name last time, lover, does that make me a goddess then?”
“It would bloody well make this whole thing easier, if so.” He ran his hand through his thick black hair and plastered a smile on his face that didn’t touch his pained eyes. “Are you going to let him into your heart, touch you like I used to, like you still want me to? You should, you know.”
“Are we going to spend the entire time talking about Thor, or have you forgotten my time here is limited?”
“I can’t protect you, Hjarta.” I looked down. This burden even intruded on that which should have been sacred, precious even.
“Don’t look down. Don’t you cower or give in if that is not something you want.” He raised my chin. “I like your strength almost as much as your heart.”
“I never asked you to.”
“You also never asked me to love you, and I—”
“Don’t you dare say those words,” I interrupted. Those words were sacred, and I didn’t want them sullied by us being in the back room of an imaginary bar, that stank like old whiskey, when I knew that something would always exist between us. I stepped back. The chill wrapping around my arms. “This was just supposed to be us getting each other out of our systems. I can’t have you. I can’t love you. You told me that.” Anguish constricted me. I could feel the dread rising. I knew where this was leading.
“Do you think we are healing by being with each other?”
“Isn’t this better than nothing at all?” I asked.
“No, I’d rather be in eternal pain than to know that I can’t have you all the time in my near; to reach out and touch your hands. My heart says mine, while my head tells me that the line is drawn in the sand and we can never be. I cannot give you what you want, what you deserve.”
“I don’t want what I deserve. I want you,” I whispered.
“And that is why we must end this. It makes you reckless. This must be our last time, our last dance. I have to let you go.”
“You want me to hate you, Loki, but that will not happen. I’m always happy to see you, and then we must part, I’m devastated. People surround me, but I’m completely alone, because the one person I want there can’t be.”
“One day, you too will curse my name,” he countered.
He reached out and intertwined his fingers with mine, and the longer we stayed together, the more like magnets we became; he pulled me to him. He leaned in and kissed me again, where I tasted smoke on his tongue. He kissed me with everything he had until I saw stars that seemed to twinkle just for me. And even when he pulled back, the memory of his kiss remained. My stomach fluttered, my heart raced, and I held in the tears of his goodbye, again. Again, I would be sweeping up the pieces.
If given a chance, this seed could have grown to compete with the mightiest of oaks, but instead, it was now to be plucked from its soil, light, and water, and tossed to the refuse. All of the things that could have been, from dancing, singing, laughing, his playing of the spoons. He’d found a way into my heart, and I hated myself for allowing him there, but I didn’t want to see him go.
“You need someone who can be good for you. I hate this situation too, love.” He snapped his fingers, creating a flame. “You want to hold a flame and not get burned. We both risk all to be here.”
“Loki, wait!”
And just like that, he disappeared, and again I stood on top of the roof in Richmond with only the scent of whiskey wafting in the air. I crossed my arms warding off the chill from the absence of his arms. I’d had my entire life planned out, and none of it involved falling in love with Loki, living in Asgard, and playing slayer in my downtime.
I didn’t have any tears left to cry. This was what it would be between us. His wanting to love me, my wishing to love him, and the gods coming between us.
No, I wouldn’t continue this. It was better if he didn’t exist, even if he might be the love of my life, I had to find a better way. He would continue to pull me back to him, like he had a lasso wrapped around my waist. This wasn't love. This was pain.
I turned the earbud and camera back on. “Heimdall, I’m back.”
“Good, we have Dark Elves on the move.”
Chapter 12
Sif
Tonight should have been like any other night. The end of #LokiDoki.
Loki thing was throwing me off of my game. But even more, something felt off. Where was Chi?
“Have you been able to reach Chi, Heimdall?” I asked. From my position in the dark shadows of an alleyway, I watched the elves march toward City Hall, the same place I’d thought had been my seat of conquest, and already cleared. Like a weed, they’d found their way back, and reclaimed it as their own.
Under the city ran an array of sub-terrain tunnels with exposed wiring and pipes. Graffiti lined the walls in an array of runes and Germanic characters. Like a mine, exposed lightbulbs burned, combined with those of red warning lights; neon signs lit up every small shop in the darkened spaces. This was the bottom of the ladder, where the culling usually began. This society built everything on the backs of the poor, including sacrificin
g their lives and souls to fuel their technology.
I moved silently through, a hood over my head, blending in to the varying shades of brown and black tattered and worn clothes. Even more, I tried to ignore the sounds of lively music. People would always find a way to dance through their pain. To survive, even when forced underground.
My stomach rumbled at the scent of human food, as cardamom mixed with cumin. By the cacophony rising, it wouldn’t be long before the soldiers descended in their gas masks, checking IDs, choosing those to declare fealty or die. I could hear their jackboots pounding on the grates overhead.
They must have heard it, too, for that sense of glee began to die down, replaced by a wave of dread. Mother’s hurried to hide their children, shushing them, and herding them into their small spaces.
I pulled my hood further down over my face, and moved further into the shadows, in the opposite direction of the approaching soldiers.
Hurrying through the labyrinth of corridors, I made it topside without being caught, thankfully. Tonight would bring its own challenges. But luckily, I again blended in with the topside pedestrians: those who were still able to breathe fresh air, walk the streets, and even wear clothes that weren’t tattered. In their acceptance of this station, they continued playing with technology, chatting on cellphones like nothing had ever happened. They buzzed by like they were in Manhattan, ignoring all sense of reality and desperation that they did not wish to acknowledge.
I chose the first alleyway to dip into and moved away from Franklin Street and headed north toward Broad Street, the East to West corridor that separated the city.
Broad Street, at least this portion, had once been the main shopping area for the city before the great expanse out west. Now, empty storefronts with broken glass were boarded up. Their usefulness replaced with newer buildings with sleek architecture built with the aid of dark elven technology.
If I looked in, I’d surely find them behaving like this was Vegas and they wouldn’t have a care in the world. Their plates overflowing with steak, while those underground were happy to find a rat or two to skewer.
Yet the closer I came to Broad Street, the more the crowd oddly lessened like a new curfew had been enacted. Something was off, bad even, more so than usual.
It was the sound of a crowd yelling that caught my attention. I followed the noise. Sticking to the shadows, I continued following the sounds until I came upon soldiers in jackboots, loudly marching in unison.
I peeked around the corner. The street was populated with Dark Elves as far as I could see. I quickly scaled the nearest brick building to get a better view, and in the distance, a bright light beckoned me. Again, at City Hall, on their sacred space, where time had supposedly been rewound, I found there, who or rather, what had ordered the elven soldiers’ attention.
I scowled. She was new, different even.
“Do you see this?” I asked Heimdall who could see grass growing. I fixed the camera on my amulet—a bejeweled body camera—granting him an even clearer vision of what was happening.
“Yes, this does not speak well. You need to get out of there,” Heimdall warned.
“And go where? I have to find Chi.”
Instead of a long tunic that covered her, the mysterious female stood draped in red-and- brass-colored armor. Stretched out behind her were charred black-and-white wings. One gold horn jutted from her head, covering the burnt part of her face. In her hand, she held a ball of fire. With every move, fire rose up her legs as if her body was still ablaze, and the black smoke then moved from her lithe frame to the figure kneeling before her.
I squinted. “Crap on a stick.” There on the ground before her rested the elf who I thought to have incapacitated the other night.
“Is that the elf you were to have gotten rid of?”
“I did like I always do; as I’ve always done.” But I hadn’t double checked.
“You’re too tired, Sif, and this just became a can of worms.”
“How so?” I waited for him to answer. This wasn’t about my not finishing a job, and performance issues, this was about my friend Chi who was now missing.
“It would appear that we have a new villain to deal with. That’s Amra, the ruler of a faction of the dark elves. We may have dealt with some of them with Lady Hel, but this was a whole 'nother matter.”
“Let this be a warning to all of you,” Amra shouted. “Shall you not catch the one who decimates us, then I shall kill you.” I blared my eyes, sensing something even more wrong than usual. The black elves did not have wings. Her voice carried.
Amra’s words made my mouth go dry, and I wasn’t frightened too easily, but I could tell she wanted me to pay for what I’d been doing with more than sweat and tears, but with blood and body parts.
* * *
“We had her. She was in our trap. And yet, you let her leave! May the fire of Surtr purify you.” Before the elf could plead his case, the horned demon pushed the fireball she’d been holding at him. “May history erase you and give you nothing.” She then spat on his burning body.
“Find her for she seeks to destroy us. She must be getting help somehow, somewhere. We will cause her and the gods to perish.”
Uh-oh, they knew enough about me to know I was connected to Asgard. Odin would be livid—maybe?
A roar went up in the crowd.
She raised her nose to the wind. “She is here. I can smell her. Release the hounds. What you couldn’t do, they can.”
In a plume of black and white smoke, she disintegrated, and the elves began to chant. The brash sound resembled that of cicadas on a hot summer night.
And fire began to rain down on them, and they, in turn, danced in it.
Oh, shit. What the hell is this, and how is it not harming them?
Loud drumming erupted, sending them even more into a frenzy!
“Find the woman,” one shouted, “find the Sif.”
Before I could panic, I felt the pull of Heimdall yanking me back to Asgard. “Wait,” I shouted.
“You know our deal. I pull you out when, as you say, shit hits the fan, and that was more than you could do. You are not Thor. You cannot save Midgard, and it was my mistake in helping you.”
“But don’t you see how big of a picture this is. This means that the elves are not turning tail and going to hide; that Lady Hel is up to something because there is no way she’d just let this continue without her say, and that”—I began to sputter —“The whole world is now in peril. We might have pockets of magic, but I’ve never seen a fairy demon-monster who could make it rain fire. For those in Midgard, they probably think that these are the last days and are looking for a literal black-cloaked figure riding on a white horse. We must do something.”
I was not one to back down. There had to be a better way to make them do something besides wonder and talk about how the world was going to hell. Right now, it was. Lady Hel was winning this match of proverbial chess, and I wasn’t even sure if she was still playing.
“Ragnarok this, Ragnarok that,” I said. “Please. What about us trying to stop it from happening? Instead of embracing the craziness of another deity coming forward and killing everyone, let’s stop it. They all have their own god complex—they want to be the supreme one. Combine that with their image of grandeur; they can’t even understand that if there are no people to worship them, then they are no longer a god, but a figment of someone else’s imagination. Even I know that this here all runs by the prayers of the faithful. Take away the faithful, then one by one this place will disintegrate into ashes and dust. We won’t have to wait for Surtr to come with his big fiery sword. We will have done the work for him by refusing to act and save the people, the believers in the gods.”
All of those words rushed out of my mouth like I’d been holding them in too long. Of course, if I would have told him that I knew Loki wasn’t involved, he would have wanted to know how. I wasn’t ready to share that. What I did know was that everyone had their plans, desires and I was jus
t a tool they wished to use in order to accomplish some ill-begotten goal, humanity be damned.
“What do you wish for me to do?” Heimdall huffed. I could see that he didn’t want to help, but he also didn’t want me to stress out about what was happening in Midgard.
“Keep an eye on things, and try to find Chi. She has to be somewhere there. I’ll stop by later and head back.”
“I don’t think that is a good idea.”
“Not to the city center, but to Chi’s house. I need to find her.”
“And what are you going to do when you find her gone.”
I crossed my arms, and without delay knew the answer. “Find her of course. She is my best friend. I can’t let something happen to her, especially because of me.”
“Aye.” Heimdall nodded. “Head on.” He opened the gate to Asgard for me. “You’re going to be late for training.”
I wasn’t worried about training on the field here, only if I could keep up the pace to stay on my feet when it counted most.
Just hold on, Chi. Just hold on.
One step closer.
Sweat dripped down my brow after another brutal training session. Me working muscles that I couldn’t even identify.
I could feel my body growing stronger, but my soul…my longing and desires, I attempted to push deeper down with every grunt and kick while practicing.
It was only when I was alone that the memories held on tightly like an ill-fitting sweater. I couldn’t relax in those haunting and fleeting moments where I damned the world.
And myself.
I trekked in mud from the field into the grandest of halls, Freyja’s hall, where my rooms awaited me.
She took the first of the fallen, the top soldiers, and somehow or another, she’d also decided on welcoming me here.
Unlike other halls in Asgard, Freyja’s had a light, feminine touch with accent walls of light and airy pastels; grand paintings that accessorized a room and didn’t smother it. Instead of tons of gaudy gold, her columns were not slathered in the glitz, but instead held carved runes in marble, and a lovely ash tree grew in the courtyard.
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