Chapter 13
The next morning when Amy comes into the kitchen Beatrice is already there, and so is Loki. Beatrice is buzzing around the stove; Loki is sitting at the table, hunched over a cup of coffee and a half eaten plate of eggs. His hair is wet like he’s just come out of the shower, but he still hasn’t shaved. He isn’t in his armor. He’s wearing one of her grandfather’s old tee shirts and a pair of Grandpa’s utility pants that fit Loki like capris.
He doesn’t raise his eyes when she comes in, just stares at a point on the table next to the sugar jar.
“Hi,” Amy says.
Loki doesn’t move or speak. But Beatrice says, “Good morning, Dear.” And then her grandmother takes a cup of tea and goes and sits down next to Loki at the table.
Amy pours herself a cup of coffee and joins them.
Loki doesn’t do anything, just sits hunched over, as though inhabiting his own dark world. It’s frightening, and sad.
Swallowing, Amy says, “You told us what happened.”
Loki’s eyes shoot up to hers. For a moment Amy thinks they are completely black, but she blinks, and they’re that eerie light gray color again.
“You told us last night,” Amy says. Or his subconscious did. It doesn’t seem worthwhile to go into the whole wolf Fenrir thing. “I’m sorry about your family, and your friends.”
Loki looks away.
Beatrice shakily puts down her teacup. “I hope you won’t do anything ...rash...”
Amy blinks. A three-day bender seems pretty rash to her.
Loki’s eyes slide to Beatrice and then he smirks. “Are you are referring to Ragnarok, Beatrice?”
“It had crossed my mind.” Beatrice’s eyes are steady, but her hands are shaking on her teacup.
Amy’s heart stops. If she remembers Loki’s Wikipedia entry correctly, he’s the one who leads the dead in the battle against the Norse gods at Ragnarok, the end of the world.
Loki snorts, and then he begins to laugh quietly. Playing idly with his fork he says, “Oh, if only I could hop aboard the ship Naglfar and lead the armies of Hel against Asgard, I would, definitely. But there are no armies in the realm of Hel. Just my daughter’s corpse, and the corpses of her maids.” His smile drops and he looks away. “There is no Hel for the meek, no Valhalla for warriors slain in battle. Those are just dreams you humans use to console yourselves during your fleeting lives. There is just nothingness.”
“You don’t know that!” says Beatrice, fingering the cross hanging around her neck.
Loki looks up at her and glares. And then he stands from the table and walks out the door. Beatrice and Amy watch him walk into the garage. Amy looks around the kitchen. Nothing is on fire. For some reason that makes her sad.
x x x x
Sitting with her laptop and checkbook on the kitchen table, Amy’s looking at her bank accounts trying not to feel depressed. It’s the evening after Loki’s return. She had a temp job in the afternoon, and now she’s obsessively reconciling her checkbook, calculating how much she has earned and how much she’ll need to earn to have enough money to pay the school fees her scholarship doesn’t cover, and to make a down payment on a new place to live in the fall.
Hearing a knock at the door, Amy looks up. Through the window she sees Loki wearing the same clothes he had on earlier.
Grateful for the distraction and relieved that he looks sober and shaven, Amy walks over and opens the door. Face almost expressionless, Loki says, “Miss Lewis, it seems I will be a guest of your world for awhile. I was wondering if...” He looks away. “If you might help me get acclimated to your world’s current magic...technologies.”
Amy’s stares at him. That seems so healthy and proactive. “Wow. Good for you,” she says, too shocked to move from the doorway.
Shrugging, he says in a flat voice, “If I’m going to see Odin kneel before me while I hold his testicles in my hands as all of Asgard burns, I have to start somewhere.”
Amy’s mouth drops.
Straightening, Loki says, “I will make it worth your while somehow, I give you my — ”
Amy waves a hand. “No, no, no. It’s okay...of course I’ll help you if I can; you don’t owe me anything.” She’ll just take that Odin’s testicle thing and Asgard burning thing as a slight bit of hyperbole brought on by grief.
Loki tilts his head and his expression softens just a bit.
Her brow furrows. “Is there any place you’d like to start?”
Loki’s eyes go over to her laptop on the kitchen table. “Computers and the internets. The last time I was here I had some access to ENIAC — but things have come so far since then.”
Amy blinks at him. ENIAC? Shaking her head she steps aside and motions for him to come in. “Have a seat. I’ll get us something to drink.”
“Thank you,” says Loki, walking over and sitting in front of her computer. As she turns to the refrigerator, he’s staring at the blank screen of power save mode.
Taking out a pitcher of freshly made peach tea, she pours two glasses and turns around. Loki has one finger hovering above the keyboard and he’s staring at her bank account information.
“Whoa,” says Amy, going to the table and closing that tab.
Loki looks at her, brows slightly raised.
Wincing, Amy says, “You probably shouldn’t have seen that.”
Loki holds up two hands. “I just touched it and — ”
“No, no, no...It’s okay.” She grabs her checkbook and then brings the two glasses of tea over to the table. Handing him one, she takes a sip of her own. It’s not as cold as she expected. “Drats, I’ll have to get some ice,” she says.
Holding out a hand to her, Loki says, “Sit down and allow me.”
She hands him the glasses. He gives her a twisted half smile and frost climbs up the outside of both. “Here,” he says, handing one back.
Amy finds herself smiling...more than she should. Is she being flirty? She shouldn’t be flirty. He just lost his family and his best friends and that would be inappropriate. She schools her face to neutral. Is it her imagination or is her pulse a little quick? Just knowing about his family...he doesn’t seem so much like an obnoxious flirt anymore. He has children, he’s —
Loki clinks his glass with hers which snaps her back to the moment. She takes a sip. “It’s perfect,” she says, staring over her glass at him.
Loki raises an eyebrow. “Where should we start?”
Realizing she’s staring, she spins back to her computer. “Well, I guess, first...this is a mouse.” She toggles the wireless mouse she has next to her iMac. Remembering his confusion over Car, she says, “It’s just what it’s called...it’s not actually alive.”
Loki holds out a hand and she hands it to him. Eying the mouse he murmurs, “Hoenir would have fun with this.” Expression hardening, he says, “How does it work?”
Amy has some experience teaching techie neophytes. She expects hours of back and forth, and obvious questions that make her want to tear her hair out. That doesn’t happen.
Loki grasps the point and click concept immediately. They move quickly from mice to the internet, and he begins asking questions that are too technical. He accidentally calls up the browser’s options and gets a menu she has never seen. He clicks on something, and when the page of gobbledygook comes up, he recognizes it immediately as the code for the page.
That’s when she looks down and sees it. “Um...” she says. “Loki, your fingertips are blue...” It’s that lovely, robin’s egg shade she had seen before, and it almost seems to be alight from within.
He looks down and his brow furrows. He takes a breath and the color fades away, like a wave draining from sand. Turning to her, his expression sharp, he says, “It is just an illusion.”
Amy can’t help it; she puts a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay.”
Turning back to the computer he says dryly, “I blame you for putting the damned idea in my head.”
Removing her
hand and taking a deep uncomfortable breath, Amy says, “Okay, maybe we should go next to Google. It’s an internet site that can tell you just about everything....”
Once Loki has access to Google, it quickly becomes apparent that Amy isn’t so much helping as holding Loki back. She gets up and lets him explore ‘How the Internet Works’ and ‘Static Versus Dynamic Web Pages’ by himself.
Beatrice comes in, they all eat dinner together, and then Loki is at the computer again. When Amy goes to bed, Loki is still there, the screen flashing from one page to another. His eyes look very dark, and she swears his skin has a blue cast but decides not to say anything.
The next day when Beatrice goes to fetch Loki for breakfast, Amy clicks on the browser’s history — just out of curiosity. She’s not sure what she expected to find, but she doesn’t expect to find a whole bunch of entries on something called Schrödinger’s cat, the Heisenberg uncertainty principle, quantum computing, random number generators and something on financial derivatives. She backs slowly away.
At breakfast when she asks him what he was browsing the night before, he just smirks and says, “Magic.”
x x x x
With the help of Google, Loki fixes the ceiling fan in her grandmother’s room — turns out the problem was actually in the fuse box. During his first week with them, among other acts of computer wizardry, Loki cleans up the hard drive on Beatrice’s PC — something Amy would have thought impossible since her grandmother seems to open every attachment and click on every link she’s ever gotten in an email. And he also manages to get a nasty virus off of nosy-neighbor Harry’s computer — Harry’s on Beatrice’s email list. Sometime that first week he also hooks up the television, the DVD player and the stereo so that all share one remote, something Amy never managed to do. After that Amy finds herself regularly watching TV with Loki late into the night. He lies on the couch, feet propped up on one end. She sits on the EZ-boy chair — she starts sleeping better there than anywhere else.
Overall, Beatrice and Amy are both really impressed by the way Loki immerses himself in modern technology and modern life. But there are some incidents.
x x x x
Amy comes home just after lunchtime during Loki’s second week with them. She had a job as a hostess at a local restaurant that morning. Beatrice meets her in the backyard, water pot in hand. “He’s in the kitchen,” Beatrice says. “I think you need to talk to him. We just don’t do that!”
Puzzled, Amy heads into the kitchen. Loki is wearing her grandmother’s apron...which is a little odd considering it is pink and far too small...but that isn’t what really grabs her attention.
“Why is there a dead pig on our kitchen table?” She’s been around enough dead animals in vet school to recognize it without most of its skin and to not be disgusted — even if she is mostly vegetarian.
Loki looks up from where he is leaning over said pig with a very big cleaver. His brows furrow. “It has come to my attention that I am, in Beatrice’s words, ‘Eating you out of house and home.’ I am trying to do my ‘fair share’.”
“By butchering a pig...”
“It is a free-range pig, much higher quality than you would get in the the grocery store. Also, it is freshly slaughtered. It will be delicious...even you will want to eat this bacon.” He smacks the pig’s hindquarters and smiles.
Tilting his chin and rubbing the back of his cheek with a bloody hand, he says, “Though tonight I think we should eat the head. I make a delicious sweetbread.” He looks at her, holding up the cleaver in a way that is kind of psycho-esque. “What?”
“You cook?” she says. That is probably the least important question in her mind, but somehow it pops up first.
He rolls his eyes. “Odin was always sending me out to babysit Thor when he went adventuring. Thor was a prince; a bastard, but a prince... I got to cook.”
Amy looks at the dead animal stretched out and filling the whole kitchen table. “Where did you get the pig?”
He blinks at her and then leans down and starts sliding the knife under the pig’s skin. “From a butcher on Fulton. I read about it on the internet and went this morning.”
“You don’t drive...did you take this thing on the bus?” She had taught him how to use the bus and left a pass out for him. The one time Amy tried to teach Loki how to drive, he turned the Subaru into a load bearing part of the garage wall. Amy doesn’t know how he can build her a personal website on ‘server space’ she didn’t know she had and hook it up to ‘RSS feeds’ on veterinary medicine but can’t manage to put a car in reverse. It probably relates somehow to him setting the toaster on fire, though.
He looks up at her. “You know they wouldn’t let me?” He shakes his head as though amazed. “I carried it back. I got a lot of stares. You’d think people never had seen a hog before.”
Amy can hear the neighborhood gossip mill grinding in her head. Trying not to think about it she says, “How did you pay for it?”
He blinks again.
Oh, no. “Did you steal this pig?”
“I have no money. Of course I stole the pig,” he says.
“We don’t do that!” says Amy.
He stares at her. Then frowning and crossing his arms, cleaver still in hand, he says, “Do you want me to return it?”
Amy looks at the partially butchered animal and rubs her eyes. “No, just tell me where you stole it from and give me your oath that you won’t do it again.” She tells herself she’ll send the butcher compensation. Somehow. Anonymously.
“Fine...you have my oath, while I reside at your house, I will not steal another pig — ”
“Anything,” says Amy.
He glowers at her.
She glowers right back even though she feels a pang of fear. “It could attract attention and the police.”
Narrowing his eyes, he uncrosses his arms and rolls his eyes. “Fine, you have my oath I will not steal while I reside under your roof.”
Amy decides that is the best she is going to do. Later that night, despite her better judgment, she tries some pig cheek — it just smells so good. It is delicious.
x x x x
It is near the end of the second week when the second incident occurs. Amy is just coming home late from her hostessing job. There is a light in the living room. She follows it and finds Loki kneeling in front of the TV cabinet fiddling with the remote.
Without thinking, she puts her hostessing apron with the $66.73 she got in tips from takeaway orders on the coffee table next to her laptop. It was a long day, she made hardly any money, and she has no idea how she’s going to pay all her expenses at this rate. Settling into the EZ boy, she just sighs.
Without looking at her, Loki flops down on the couch. “I’ve hooked the television up to your computer. We can watch YouTube, Netflix, Hulu...”
“Whatever,” Amy says.
Without looking at her, Loki points the remote at the TV and some strange menu with cute icons comes up. He selects some talk on YouTube about Higgs Boson particles. Physics really isn’t Amy’s thing, but it is interesting — until it isn’t. Amy finds herself drifting off into sleep, Loki talking in the background...Something about, “Humans can’t see magic, but you’ve found all these ways to look at it indirectly. I really can see why Hoenir is so fond of you...”
She jerks awake when the program ends. The strange menu comes up and Loki flips to Netflix and Star Trek TOS reruns.
Spock’s making eyes at some incredibly elegant woman, and Amy’s just drifting off to sleep again when Loki says, “She’s scrawny.”
“Mmmm...” says Amy.
And then out of the blue Loki says, “You know, Amy, you really are just my type, but I don’t even feel like having sex right now.”
Amy bolts upright. Loki isn’t even looking at her. He’s just lying on the couch, head turned to the television screen. Her heart rate goes from racing back to normal. For a moment she’d felt like her sanctuary was going to collapse on her
.
Staring at the flickering light without even seeing it, Amy feels exhausted again. “Sex is overrated,” she says. Sex is a tease. Your body convinces you you want it, and then during it you hardly feel like you’re even there, your mind wanders, the sensations become muted. Once it’s over you’re left feeling incomplete, and empty, wondering why you’d bothered in the first place. And then your partner describes it as awesome. She huffs at a recent memory and stares at her fingernails on the arm of the chair.
“Ordinarily I’d take that as a challenge,” Loki says, not moving.
Amy’s cheeks flush. “Glad I can be here during your time of personal growth.”
“This isn’t growth,” says Loki, his voice flat.
He isn’t looking at her; he hasn’t even moved. And then she remembers him laughing about getting his lips sewn shut, and flirting with her in Alfheim. Where did the Loki that could laugh about his own torture go? She’s been enjoying his company these last few weeks; he’s been mellower. There have been no horrible pick-up lines; she feels so safe she falls asleep with him in her living room. But the reason he’s been so mellow, the reason she feels so comfortable — it’s because he’s depressed, isn’t it?
She swallows. And why shouldn’t he be? He’s lost everything.
The images on the screen stop. “I’m bored with this show,” says Loki. He flips back to the cute icon-y menu.
Suddenly anxious to draw him out, Amy says, “Did you hook my computer up to the DVD player somehow?” Talking about technology is about the only thing that seems to perk his interest lately.
Loki actually laughs. “Oh, your DVD player isn’t involved in the slightest. I’m utilizing a device called an Apple TV. It’s a little box that connects your TV to your computer and the internet. The hard part was getting a username and then a password to initialize it.” He shakes his head and sighs. “Actually, it wasn’t that hard. You know, if you humans used more pass phrases instead of passwords the internet would be so much more secure. And think of it — ‘the pink hadrosaur jumps over thirteen purple griffins in the icebox,’ you’d never forget it, and it would be nearly impossible to hack.”
He actually sounds happy, and that’s good, but he talks so fast it takes Amy a moment to decipher all of it. And then she flushes. “Did you steal an Apple TV?”
He waves a hand at her and puffs. “No, I borrowed an Apple TV. I have every intention of returning it.”
“You can’t do that!”
Loki looks at a point on the wall. “No, I really can. I make myself invisible, walk into the Apple Store and — ”
“That’s stealing!”
He glares at her. “I do not break my oaths!”
What follows is an argument that she thinks she technically wins, but he refuses to acknowledge her victory. In the end she extracts an oath that he will return the Apple TV the next day and that he won’t borrow again without a merchant’s express consent...as long as he resides on their property.
That night she goes to sleep in her own bed, leaving him taking the Apple TV box thingy out of the TV cabinet.
Later, she comes down the stairs to let Fenrir out. Loki is stretched out asleep on the couch. A box she supposes is the Apple TV is on the coffee table beside him.
His face is drawn, his fingers are blue and twitching, and he’s mumbling something in another language, sounding strained. Her change apron is still on the coffee table, too. She decides not to move it. It’s so close to his face, it will jingle and Loki obviously needs his sleep, pained as it may be.
She has his oath not to steal in her house; and she’s seen that the man takes his oaths very seriously.
It isn’t until she’s settled back in bed and closing her eyes that she realizes the true significance of her argument with Loki earlier in the evening.
Her eyes bolt open.
...forget borrowing things without asking. What’s really scary is that he’s been here two weeks and he’s already hacking into computers.
x x x x
Stumbling out of the rain into Hoenir’s hut, Anganboða, Mimir, Loki and the nearly unconscious Hoenir find themselves in a sitting room. Panting, Loki drops Hoenir on the small sofa. Hoenir mumbles something in his sleep, and Loki crumples to the floor.
“That’s going to hurt in the morning,” says Mimir with a tsk, tsk.
“His head or my back?” Loki grumbles.
“Both,” says Mimir. His eyes slide over to Anganboða. “Would you please lean me against that wall?” He waggles his eyebrows in the direction of a wall just to the side of an unlit fireplace.
As Anganboða complies, Loki stares at the logs in the fireplace, concentrates just a moment and the logs leap into flame.
Anganboða gives a small gasp and she backs away from Mimir and the roaring fire. Loki just stares at her silently, his mind an uncomfortable jumble.
“Now, Miss,” says Mimir, “Loki did ask a very good question out there. Do you have a plan?”
Anganboða lets the blanket covering her shoulders fall away. Beneath it is a thick satchel. “I was thinking, I have heard some wealthy families will hire a young lady to educate their daughters and young children.” Opening the satchel, she pulls out a large and well worn tome. “I have no experience, but I am well read.”
Curiosity getting the better of him, Loki says, “That doesn’t look like a book for children.”
Anganboða sighs. “It isn’t, but it is one of my favorites. I couldn’t leave it.” She hands it to Loki. He opens the dust jacket and smiles. “Ah, it is Hellbendi’s, Magic: Mathematical, Scientific and Philosophical Inquiries Beyond Practical Applications.” Shaking his head he says almost to himself, “This is a very, very, good book.”
Although the Aesir can sense magic and bend it to their will, few have tried to understand it like Hellbendi, a sorcerer from ancient times. Loki has found that understanding the science of magic has greatly improved his practical abilities.
“You’ve read it?” says Anganboða. She sounds impressed, not bored or mildly disgusted.
He should reply with confidence; however, all that happens is that his jaw drops open.
Fortunately, Mimir comes to Loki’s aid. In his most courtly tones he says, “Loki has read that and more. When he isn’t causing mischief for his or Odin’s amusement, he is often ransacking Hoenir’s library.”
“Library?” says Anganboða, her face visibly brightening. She looks at Loki expectantly.
Pulling himself together, he says, “Yes, Hoenir’s rivals Odin’s.” Going to retrieve Mimir, he steps towards a wall lined with several doors. “Come, we’ll show you,” he says.
“Are you sure you know which door? Even I can’t keep them straight,” Mimir whispers.
Loki isn’t sure, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he smiles as confidently as he can at Anganboða, who smiles back wildly. Lifting his eyebrows at her, he opens the first door just slightly. The sound of claws on metal and a furious screeching fills his ears. Loki peeks in the opening. It is a room he has never seen before, lined with giant cages, inside of which are velociraptors as tall as him. Their heads swivel as one towards the doorway. For a moment they just stare, and then they jump against the bars of their cages, shaking and screeching with all their might.
Loki closes the door quickly.
“What were those?” says Anganboða, eyes wide.
“Errrr....” says Mimir.
“Nothing but harmless hadrosaurs, gentle herbivorous dragons,” says Loki.
“They didn’t look gentle,” says Anganboða.
“Let’s try the next door,” says Loki, quickly moving on. Fortunately, that door does lead to the library.
Perhaps an hour later, they are still there. Mimir is leaning against a wall, sound asleep. Loki and Anganboða are sitting at a table, two stacks of books in front of Anganboða. One stack for her to read, the other a stack of children’s books Loki is insisting that she borrow from Hoenir.
Lea
ning on his elbows, Loki says,“You are so well read, and yet you do not use magic yourself. I don’t understand.”
Anganboða looks down. “I would love to use magic. But I can’t. I see magic but am unable to bend it to my will.”
She frowns a little. Upset that his line of questioning has made her unhappy, Loki reaches forward and pulls an illusion of a flower from her nose.
Anganboða laughs, and Loki smirks and lifts an eyebrow. He waves his hand and the imaginary flower turns into butterflies — he’s more a fan of spiders, but they seldom go over well. The butterflies flap their wings, fly up towards the ceiling and disappear.
Still smiling, Anganboða looks to the books. “Do you really think Hoenir won’t mind if I borrow these?”
Loki waves a hand. “Of course he won’t mind.” He leans back in his chair and puts a hand to his chin. “What’s more of a worry is how Baldur reacts to your not coming to see him this evening. Falling out of favor of the crown prince is a sure way to find yourself unemployable.”
Unless of course, you are Loki. Odin insists Loki remain in Asgard, no matter how Baldur complains.
Tapping his chin, Loki says, “You were supposed to meet him somewhere in the palace, were you not?”
Anganboða’s face falls and she nods.
“Don’t worry,” says Loki. “We will tell the court I transformed myself into Baldur and nearly led you astray, but the fine Mimir saw what I was up to, put an end to my antics, and protected your honor. Eternally grateful, you helped him find his way back to Hoenir’s hut.” Loki straightens and smiles mischievously. “Your honor is preserved, and Baldur can’t possibly be mad at you because everyone knows what a horrible prankster I am.” He narrows his eyes. But somehow he has to find a way to keep Baldur away from her in the future.
“I don’t like that plan,” Anganboða says.
Loki raises an eyebrow. “Why ever not?”
“What of your honor, and how it will be damaged by such a lie?” Anganboða says.
Loki smirks. “Everyone knows I have no honor.”
Anganboða’s eyes narrow. “Yes, if it wasn’t for the eagle eyes of Mimir over there, I’d be ruined by now.”
Mimir chooses that moment to release a giant snore.
Loki flushes. His jaw tenses. Pretending that Mimir is protecting her is one of the little mental games he plays to keep his oath to her. “It is not for lack of desire, my Lady.” His words sound too cutting, and too cruel, even to him.
Anganboða’s gaze moves away. She looks at the books in front of her. “After I am employed, will I see you again?”
Her voice is soft...almost hopeful. Or perhaps he is imagining it. “That can be arranged,” he says cautiously.
She smiles, and he feels his lips threaten to pull up.
“But first,” he says, “we must make sure you can be employed. You must lie to the court.”
Shaking her head, she puts a hand on his. “I won’t tell them that story. It is unfair to you.”
It’s ridiculous how arousing her soft fingers are against his knuckles. He sighs and brings her hand to his lips. “My Lady,” he says. “At court you must lie. It is how you survive.”
x x x x
“Loki, Loki, Loki!”
Loki’s eyes open to darkness. It takes him a moment to realize he is on Midgard curled up on Beatrice’s couch. He puts his hand to his temples, closes his eyes and sees Anganboða’s face.
“Aggie....” He sighs. Was there ever a time he was so hopelessly romantic? “I could not protect you...” Or even the much more formidable Sigyn.
“Loki, Loki, Loki!”
Loki feels a chill pass through him. Red mist creeps along the edges of his vision. “What do you want?” he whispers.
“I need your help,” the mist says, as usual in Russian.
Loki scowls. “And why would I do that?” The mist swirls around him and the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
“I know what I am,” the child’s voice says.
Loki says nothing, just narrows his eyes.
“Cera,” the child’s voice whispers.
Loki raises an eyebrow at the word. Cera means power.
“And I can be your Cera,” the red mist says. It is so dense around Loki that he has to blink his eyes to see. His whole body hums and his skin starts to turn blue. Scowling, he fights back the illusion concocted by his obviously slipping sanity and grief.
He blinks again. The thing, Cera, is right. Loki’s pulse starts to race. He’s been delving into mortal magics these past few weeks looking for some way to exact revenge. Humans are so close to being able to give him what he needs — yet still decades, maybe centuries away. But Cera...if whatever Cera is, is as powerful as Loki thinks, vengeance may be very close.
“What do you want?” Loki whispers.
“Be my Josef!” Cera wails. “Save me from the God people!”
Loki throws his legs over the edge of the couch. “Where are you?”
He feels an anxiety in the pit of his stomach and knows it isn’t his own. The thing is projecting emotions now. He scowls.
“I don’t know where I am,” Cera wails. “But I know where I’ve been...”
x x x x
It is way too early in the morning after Loki and Amy’s Apple TV discussion, but Amy is dashing down the stairs. The vet clinic called. They are short handed for the day; they asked her if she can be there in half an hour for a ten hour shift. She tears into the kitchen in her scrubs and finds Loki staring out the window, a frown on his face. She runs to retrieve her change apron from the next room. When she gets back in the kitchen, apron in hand, she says, “What’s wrong?” She doesn’t really have time for the answer, but she remembers him murmuring in his sleep the night before, his fingers twitching, and it makes her physically ache for him.
“I need money,” he says, shooting her a look like a challenge. “And I am forbidden to steal while I am under your roof, so — ”
“You could ask to borrow some,” says Amy.
Loki’s frown vanishes. “Ask?”
“Of course,” says Amy. She heaves a breath. “Look, you lost your family, your friends...your world. Of course you’ll need some help getting back on your feet.” She takes two tens out of the change apron, slips them in the pocket of her scrubs and drops the apron on the table. The change rattles in the pockets. Loki follows it with his eyes.
“Take as much as you need; everything if you need it,” Amy says.
“I don’t think I could....” says Loki. His eyes have gone wide, and he has the expression of a surprised puppy on his face.
His earnestness surprises Amy, and makes warmth bubble in her stomach. “Look, you know where it all is. Take it. Everything. It’s okay. Really.”
Loki comes forward and drops to one knee in front of her. “Amy Lewis, I am in your debt. You have my oath that I will pay you back with interest.”
“Ummm...” she says. “Well, if you think that is necessary,” she says, looking at her change purse. What is it, forty six bucks and some change maybe?
Kissing her hand, he says, “I do think it is necessary.”
Amy swallows as warmth rushes through her limbs at his touch. “Okay...” Loki looks up at her, his face shining with something close to happiness. “I wondered why I heard you in the forest, I wondered how your voice came to be in my head, and how you intersected with my higher purpose. Now I know. My gratitude is eternal, and you have my oath, I will pay it back with interest!”
He kisses her hand again, and Amy’s mouth drops open. “Ummmm....” is all that comes out. She feels her face go red, and then Loki looks up at her like he might actually kiss her — really kiss her. That is appealing and scary. “I have to go,” she squeaks and runs out the kitchen door.
She nearly crashes into Beatrice on the back walk. Clutching a watering can to her chest, Beatrice says, “Did you talk to Loki this morning?”
Amy blinks. “Yes.”
r /> Beatrice’s eyes narrow. “I heard him talking in Russian.” Beatrice learned Russian as a child in the Ukraine — under less than ideal circumstances.
Amy’s bites her lip. She has to run, but she doesn’t like to rush away from her grandmother. Not when she’s talking about her life before.
Shaking her head, Beatrice says, “Something about Cera and Tunguska.”
“What?” says Amy.
“Cera is power, dear,” says Beatrice. She purses her lips. “I think Tunguska is a place.” And then Beatrice starts walking towards the front yard. “Well, I better go. My impatiens are thirsty.”
Amy watches her go, her stomach tying in a knot. But then she shakes her head and makes a beeline for the bus stop, waving to the little Mexican man on a bicycle ice cream cart that always seems to be around their house as she goes.
x x x x
Later that evening when she comes home, her change apron is lying on the table. She peeks in. Loki has left her with $20. A note is on top, written in an oddly near perfect hand.
Miss Lewis,
I must leave for a while and do not know when I shall return; but rest assured, I never forget my oaths. We never discussed terms of my loan, I hope 33% per annum will be sufficient.
Again my gratitude is eternal,
Loki
Amy’s heart falls at the “leave for a while” bit. She rubs her hand over the note and sighs.
After a few minutes she picks up the change apron and shakes her head. All that gratitude for what could have only been about $26 bucks?
x x x x
About a week and a half later, Amy is walking up the sidewalk to her grandmother's house. It's dusk, and the windows are all dark. The day was hot and muggy, and the evening isn't much better, but she sees Beatrice out watering her flowers in the relatively cool air. Her grandmother nods without smiling, and goes around the back of the house, watering can in hand. Her grandmother's expression, the darkness of the house, she doesn't have to ask; Loki is still gone. She bites her lip, and the magic is gone with him. Bowing her head, she trudges up the steps.
Going in the door, she picks up the mail that's been thrust through the mail slot. She rifles through the envelopes, purposefully not looking at the couch where Loki slept.
Her eyebrows rise. There is a letter from her school. Opening it, she finds that the check she sent in to pay for her miscellaneous school fees has bounced. Shaking her head, she goes to her laptop to check her bank account. She's never bounced a check in her life; there must be a mistake.
A few minutes later, Amy's sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the computer screen, face in her hands. There is only $1 left in her checking. She feels cold, even though the room is warm. Realization hits hard and fast. Loki stole from her, after giving her his precious oath. And he hasn't come back, and she won't be able to go back to school.
She swallows and scoots back from the table feeling sick.
How will she get the money? Should she borrow it from Beatrice? Is it too late to apply for financial aid?
She looks up and her gaze goes to the kitchen window. She's vaguely aware of Beatrice standing up and lowering the the watering can in her hands. Amy closes her eyes, remembering Loki's words, “I will pay you back with interest.” Maybe it's all been a mistake? He'll come back, it will all be okay... But it won't be, because she needs the money now.
Outside, Beatrice must see Amy, and her face must look stricken, because Beatrice comes running. And then Beatrice just sort of isn’t there.
Amy bolts from her seat, the sickening feeling in her stomach instantly getting worse. She runs through the door and finds Beatrice on the ground at the bottom of the stoop, her leg at an odd angle. Her head is tilted back and her eyes are closed. Blood is on the sidewalk.
“Grandma!” Amy screams. Sinking to her knees, she pulls out her phone, and dials 911. As the phone rings, she takes her grandmothers hand in her own. She looks down at the delicate veins visible through her grandmother's aged skin. Beatrice does not stir. Amy swallows, her eyes hot. Now everything is gone.
A few hours later she is at the hospital, sitting in the waiting room in a daze. On the periphery of her vision she sees several men approaching.
“Miss Lewis?” Amy turns her head, and her brow furrows. There is the older man with the too-square jaw in the too conservative gray suit who she saw in her neighborhood eating ice cream. He’s still in a gray suit. Next to him are two other men. The first looks Mexican, and vaguely familiar. She blinks. It’s the ice cream vendor, but now he’s in a suit, too.
The last man is young. He’s wearing a suit too, but he looks a little more rumpled. Looking down at a little device of some kind, he says, “She’s clean.”
Holding up a badge, the older guy says, “Miss Lewis, I’m agent Merryl and these are agents Hernandez and Ericson. We’re from the FBI. We need to bring you in for questioning.”
“Am I in trouble?” Amy stammers.
The old guy just tilts his head.
SNEAK PEEK AT MONSTERS: