“Son of a bitch.” Frey said, breaking out from the center of our loose circle to survey the fresh ski tracks in the snow.
“Who was that?” I rubbed at my arms. I’d left my coat back at the apartment and hadn’t noticed the cold until now. Val wrenched his jacket off and handed it to me. I pulled it on, sinking into its oversized warmth.
“Thanks.” I turned back to Bren. “What’s going on?”
They were all silent, but Bren’s expression was brooding, hateful. I took a step back, taking in his tense shoulders, his balled fists, his shallow, rapid breath.
“Bren?” I tried to make my voice soft, unsure if I wanted to be heard. After a moment, he turned and regarded me with a blank stare. My blood went cold. Slowly, the storm cleared from his face and he stepped toward me. I flinched without meaning to and he hesitated for an instant, then pulled me against him.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Everything’s okay.”
Skye folded her arms across her chest and turned away.
I wanted to see their expressions, to know what was happening, but the look on Bren’s face had filled me with fear. I let him hold me for a few moments before I stepped back.
“Why is he here?” Frieda said.
Dag glanced around at all of us. His eyes narrowed and a fiendish smile curled his lips. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go find out.”
“Let’s do it.” Frey stuck out a fist and Dag pounded it.
Frieda reached out to grab their arms, but Val moved in front of them first. He held up a hand. “It’s what he wants.”
“It’s an attack,” Dag said. “We’d be fools to think otherwise.”
Val’s gaze was steady. “Yes. And we’d be fools to react so quickly. Let him come to us.”
Frey bristled. “He already -"
“He’s right.” The resolve in Bren’s voice made them all turn. “We’ll go back to the apartment. Discuss our options. No one wanders far until we know what’s happening.” At this, he gave Skye a pointed look and did not continue until she made eye contact and surrendered a tiny nod. Then he turned to Val. “Talk to Neil. Find out what he’s doing about the quake.”
“He’s shutting down for the night,” Skye told him.
“Fine,” Bren said. “The three of you on shift should check in with him and meet us at home.” He motioned for Skye and Frey to walk ahead of him, then tugged at my hand.
I pulled back. “I can’t. My mother is probably freaking out right now wondering where I am.” As if to confirm this, my phone beeped to let me know I had a text. Then it started to ring.
“I can’t let you stay here,” he said. “He saw you. It’s not safe.”
I answered my phone. “I’m okay,” I said, not waiting for my mother to speak. “On my way there now.” I hung up.
Bren shook his head. “No. I’m not leaving you here.”
“I can’t tell my mother that I’m ignoring an earthquake to be with you.” I waved the phone at him. “She’ll never let me see you again.”
“This is more serious than that.” His fingers crushed mine. I flinched and he loosened his grip.
“I have to go. She’s my mother.”
“I’ll go with her.” Frieda stepped up next to me. “I won’t let anything happen to her, I promise. We’ll figure out something to tell her mom.”
Bren was quiet for a long time looking from one to the other of us. Finally he nodded. “Don’t let her out of your sight. And if you even think there’s something wrong…"
“Don’t worry, you’ll know.” She glanced over her shoulder at Frey. “What about him?”
“I can hear you, you know,” Frey said.
She ignored him and turned back to Bren, her eyes pleading.
“He stays with me.” Bren said. “All the time.”
Frey scratched at his temple. “Well, my next piss should be interesting.”
“Promise.” Frieda said. Bren pulled in a deep breath, peered around Frieda, and gave Frey a hard glare.
“Promise.”
Frieda turned her attention to Frey. Frey stared at her for a few seconds, then lifted his hands like he was being robbed. “No screwing around,” he said.
Bren grabbed me and held onto me for a moment. “Be careful,” he said. When he kissed me, I felt only the helplessness of knowing he wasn’t safe.
They watched us until we were inside. I looked back from the other side of the glass to meet his gaze once more, and then we went to find my mother.
She was in the office behind reception with Mr. Neil. She was righting a small, overturned file cabinet while he talked into the phone. They both straightened when we stepped in.
“Jenna.” My mother crossed the room in a few long strides and took my shoulders, peering down at me. “Are you all right?” She hugged me before I answered.
“Fine,” I said. “You?”
“I’m fine. Just a bit of a mess and some scared guests.”
“This is my friend Frieda,” I said. “She’s an instructor here.”
“I can see that,” my mother said, gesturing to her jacket. “Hi Frieda. Are you all right?”
“Yes, thank you.” Frieda smiled.
Mr. Neil hung up the phone. “No injuries reported yet. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“My uncle is looking to check in with you Mr. Neil,” Frieda said. “We were on our shift. Should I text him to come here?”
“No, no.” Mr. Neil thought a minute. “Better tell him to meet me in the employee lounge. I think it’s best to direct everybody there. They can check in so we know they’re all right, and then go home for the evening.”
“I’ll let him know.” Frieda slid her phone out and started pecking at it.
“Where did you get the jacket?” My mother asked.
I looked down at myself. I had forgotten I was swimming in Val’s coat. “Oh. I went to see Frieda before her shift and I forgot my coat there. When I got caught outside during the quake, her uncle Val gave me his.”
“That was nice of him. He works here too, doesn’t he?” I knew the look on my mother’s face. It was the one that read: I’ll give you two seconds to tell me what I already know.
“Frieda’s Bren’s cousin.” I said.
My mother nodded and looked at Frieda. “Well, maybe now that you can vouch for the fact that I don’t bite, Bren will come by and say hello.”
“He will,” Frieda said. “I’ll make sure of it.”
This time, my mother’s smile was genuine. “Jenna, I don’t mind if Frieda stays for a while, if it’s all right with her uncle, but I don’t want you to leave again tonight. Earthquakes can be followed by aftershocks and I want to know where you are.”
I knew I’d find a way out, but I didn’t want to argue with her while we were both still shaken. I changed course instead. “So is Mr. Neil going to close up?”
She nodded. “But there’s a lot of cleaning up to do and we have to check on each guest and employee. It’s going to be a long night.”
Frieda and I exchanged a look.
“Okay,” I said. “I guess we’ll go up to the suite and hang out for a while then.”
“That’s fine. Frieda, just make sure you let your uncle know where you are.”
“I will. I’ll tell him now.” Frieda held up her phone.
“And if there’s an aftershock,” my mother said, “get under the table and hold on.”
Upstairs, Frieda and I sat peering over the back of the couch as twilight darkened into night on the other side of the window. The slopes were empty except for a few members of ski patrol, meticulously hunting the trees and bushes and banks beneath the lights.
“Frieda,” I said.
Her green eyes slid to mine.
“Who is he?”
She stared at me for a moment, then lifted her head off of her outstretched arm and sat up.
“Loki is a lot of things,” she
said. “But mostly he’s a criminal. A dangerous one. He’s been imprisoned in Asgard for a long time. He’s never gained his freedom before the onset of the battle.”
“The battle. Ragnarok.”
She nodded.
“And he’s never been free before then?”
“Not once he’s been confined. Never.”
“So what does that mean? Does it mean it’s happening? Could it be happening without you?”
She shook her head. “Everybody who has a role in the battle has to take part. Each fate affects the others.” She seemed to draw into herself then, and I wondered what she had seen of Ragnarok. What it was like for her.
“Did you fight in the battle?” I asked quietly.
“No.” She said. “I was responsible for the slain. Quieting their souls, reuniting them with others.” Her expression grew sad and I had a terrible thought.
“Dag? Did he…” I let the word hang between us.
Her smile had an ache in it. “Dag was one of the greatest warriors in Asgard. But he is always taken away from me before the battle.” She swallowed and turned back toward the window. When she didn’t elaborate, I left it alone. It hurt to see the pain in her eyes, and I wondered if she and Dag had run away so that they could stay together. I thought again of all that Bren had told me about Ragnarok.
“Bren said you only needed one god to withdraw from the battle in order to stop the cycle. How many of you were a part of it?”
“We were all a part of it, in a way. I greeted and guided the dead. Skye judged and sentenced the criminals. Val was forbidden from fighting,” she said, grinning, “because he's the most gifted smith in all the worlds. Every great warrior has a weapon or chainmail fashioned by his hand. And if he fought with one of his own? He would be a terror.” Her eyes flashed.
I felt the smile fall from my face as I wondered about Bren's role in the battle. She hadn’t mentioned him and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what she knew, but she caught my expression and eyed me with gentle regard.
“Bren’s power runs deep.” She said. “Almost everything else in Asgard is shallow by comparison. If he had taken sides in a battle, there would have been no battle, so the gods didn't engage him in such things.” She paused and grew tense. “It made him angry to watch ego and vanity destroy us over and over. Sometimes, all of Asgard and beyond shook with his temper.”
I thought of his reaction to Loki, the hostility in his eyes. Of how my body had run cold at the sight of it.
“He’s better here,” she said quickly. “But he’s seen so much, so many mistakes repeated over and over. So much needless death and destruction. It would be enough to make anyone crazy. If we hadn’t all been so desperate, I might have been afraid to ask for his help.”
I shook my head, tried to imagine Bren in this light. Finally, I returned my gaze to hers. “I can’t believe he was so…”
“Scary.” She finished. Then she waved a hand at me. “But he’s different now. That’s the great thing about being here. You can have a past. In Asgard, we talk in the present…He fights in the battle, she marries this guy, I receive the dead…because it’s happening over and over. Here, I can say, ‘I tried anchovies on my pizza. I won’t eat them again. And I can rest assured that anchovies are in my past. How great is that?”
I smiled again. Maybe I had taken some things for granted, but I wondered if Frieda understood how much we had in common with Asgardians. It was a mistake to get drunk, to date rape someone, to cheat on your wife, but people did these things over and over. I suddenly understood Bren’s frustration.
“Is it really so different here? Even after all this time?” But before she could answer, I had another thought. “Have you always been teenagers here? Can you choose that?”
She nodded. “There’s no physical aging in Asgard. Not as you know it here. Your outside sort of reflects your inside. We could change, if we wanted to, but this is how we’ve always felt.”
“What about Val? He looks almost my mom’s age.”
Her expression faded a bit. “He’s had a hard life. I think it’s difficult for him to leave it behind him. The memories.” She shrugged. “He’s never shown an interest in changing his appearance, and it quickly became apparent that we’d need a guardian, so it worked out.”
“Hmm.”
We gazed out the window again. Two men in red patrol jackets had just arrived at the base of the mountain. They skied over to the lift and boarded it together, heading back to the summit. The snow on the pines lining the trails sparkled, reminding me of the huge evergreen at Ringsaker. As I listened to Frieda sigh, something nagged at me, some question I had meant to ask. I frowned and stared at my reflection in the window, filing through our conversation.
A sound like a handful of sand hitting the glass made us jerk away. We glanced at each other, then back out the window, and realized it was hailing.
Frieda hissed. “He’s a piece of work.”
“So, this won’t be on the local weather report?” I asked, watching marble-sized ice balls ricochet off the window and back out into the night.
“The quake either.” She said. “Except maybe as some weird fluke they can’t explain.” She was restless now, biting on her pinky, her eyes shifting around the room. “I hope they’re okay. I guess I’d know.” She twisted her ring and as I watched her fingers worrying over the silver, my lost thought began to surface. I didn’t dare move as I reeled it in.
“Frieda,” I said carefully. Her eyes flicked up to mine. “You and Skye, Dag and Val, Bren…none of you fought in the battle. Bren said you only needed one.”
I watched her face soften.
“It’s Frey?”
She nodded almost imperceptibly, her eyes wet, and I remembered how had she made Bren promise to stay with Frey, the agonized way she had looked at him. I couldn't bring myself to ask what I already knew.
“Like Dag,” she said, a waver in her voice, “Frey is a great warrior. No one would choose to face him in battle. He’s smart, and so brave…but when he’s on the warpath he's as stubborn as a boar. You cannot tear him away until he has done what he has set out to do. Until it’s over. Even if it means…”
“Frieda I’m so sorry,” I interrupted. I didn’t want her to have to say these things out loud. I wondered how many times she had watched her brother die in battle. It seemed like torture to me, to live knowing how much you would lose. This was why she had wanted to insure Frey’s protection, why they had all surrounded Frey and Bren during the quake. Frey was the break in the cycle, and Bren was braced in the gap, holding the two worlds apart.
Frieda dropped her head back down on her arm. I rested my chin on my hands and watched the hail, the apartment quiet except for the stiff, icy patter.
When the door opened, we both stirred and sat upright, our eyes drowsy with sleep. My mother stepped over the threshold, closed the door behind her and leaned against it, a thick wisp of hair hanging in her face. She sighed and gave us a weary smile.
“Hi girls.”
“Hi,” I said. “What are you doing back so early?”
“Early? It’s eleven o’clock.” She motioned toward the display on the microwave, but it was too far away for any of us to see.
“What? It can’t be.” I gave Frieda a pointed look and she widened her eyes at me.
“It is.” My mother lifted a foot, pried off her high heel, then did the same with the other. “Frieda honey, you’d better get home. Your uncle is probably wondering where you are.”
Frieda and I stared at my mother, then back at each other.
“Okay,” I said slowly, “I’ll just walk Frieda downstairs.”
My mother let her head fall to the side, gave me an impatient smile. “Come right back up. I’m wiped and I need some sleep.”
“I’ll be right back,” I said.
I avoided Frieda’s frantic stare as we
rose from the couch and walked toward the door.
“Bye, Mrs. Dewitt,” Frieda said as we stepped past my mom.
“Night, Frieda. And Jenna?”
I turned, my hand on the knob.
“Come say goodnight before you go to bed.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m just walking her to the lobby. I’ll be right back up.”
“Okay.”
I stared at her back for a moment as she walked into her bedroom, shoes dangling from one hand. Then we left the suite and headed downstairs.
As soon as we boarded the elevator and the door closed, Frieda turned to me, her eyes glittering with panic. “I didn’t think of this. I can’t leave you here. What are we going to do?”
“It’s okay,” I said. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll go back up and wait until she goes to sleep, then I’ll meet you at the apartment.”
“No. I’ll be freaking out the whole time. And Bren will kill me.” She spun around in place like a cat trapped in a box.
I grabbed her arms. “Listen to me. I am going to be fine. This is a public place. Tell Bren we had no choice, that there was nothing we could do, and that I’ll be there as soon as I can. My mother looked asleep on her feet so it shouldn’t be long.”
The elevator doors opened and we stepped out.
“I’ll wait for you here.” She said.
“You can’t. If anyone sees you hanging around this late it’s going to look suspicious. I’m going to have to have an excuse ready as it is, in case someone sees me.” I forced a smile. “It’s going to be fine.”
At the sliders, she punched her cell number into my phone and gave me a brief, fierce hug. “Just text when you’re coming and we’ll meet you.” She whispered. “I’ll die if anything happens.”
“It won’t. I’ll see you soon,” I whispered back.
My mother was already in bed when I poked my head into her room.
“Sleeping?”
“No,” she said. But her eyes were closed.
“Okay. Well, I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.”
“Homework?”
“Done.” I lied.
I hung on the knob for another minute, listening as her breathing grew heavy and deep, then closed the door without a sound.
I sat at the kitchen table and watched the digital clock on the microwave for twenty minutes, my book in my hand in case my mother stirred. Then I pulled on my new boots, grabbed Val’s jacket from the back of the chair and my snowboard from the wall by the door, and snuck out for the first time in my life.
Inevitably, Sydney looked up the minute I stepped back into the lobby. She gave me a confused smile.
“Weren’t you just here?”
I smiled back and looked her straight in the eye. “Yep. But I’m brain dead today. I told Jeff I’d leave my board in the rack so he could tune it up tomorrow morning, which I forgot to do. And I was supposed to return a coat I borrowed from an instructor, which I also forgot to do.
“Can’t it wait?” She asked. “It’s late.”
“He has a shift tomorrow morning.” I slowed and changed the subject, hoping to avoid any further lies. “I thought Mr. Neil sent everyone home. What are you doing here?”
“I’m like a postman. I have to be here in all kinds of weather.”
I wondered what she’d think when I didn’t come back right away, but I couldn’t worry about that now. They were waiting for me.
Outside, the wind stung my face. The hail had slowed a little, but I felt it ping off Val’s jacket and the top of my head as I cleared the stairs. I slid my board into the nearest rack and stopped for a moment, staring up at the outcropping where Loki had appeared just hours before. The snow was churned up all through the trees and at the bottom below the drop. When the wind blew again I turned, the hail hissing all around me, and started toward Bren’s apartment.
The firs beside the lodge provided shelter for a while, but when I broke into the clearing I was spattered once again. The night had an eerie glow beneath the jagged sheets of purple cloud surrounding the moon. Tiny ice pellets jumped on the hard surface of the snow, and made a hollow, rhythmic instrument of the wooden bridge just beyond. I listened to my footsteps, thinking how Bren’s would sound just a little slower, a little heavier next to mine, and then heard quicker, lighter steps from somewhere behind me.
I stopped and listened. Nothing. I pivoted, slowly, scanning the trees behind the lodge as I moved, until I had made a complete circle. I let a few beats of silence play out, then started to walk again.
Soft, rapid crunches followed.
I froze, held my breath and waited. Nothing. I spun again and stared into the evergreens. After a moment, I huffed out an exasperated fog, inhaled, and smelled something cold and musky, wild. Before I could identify it, a wave of sparkle began to ripple toward me from the pines. It was about waist high, and I narrowed my eyes to grasp what I was seeing. A glittering, undulating sheet of…something. I swept my gaze over the shadow beginning to take shape around it, and fear flooded my veins as I stopped on a pair of bright, yellow eyes. An animal. My heart pounded. It had to be huge, and I could only think of a bear. But even in my panic I knew that bears usually hibernated in winter. Worse for me if there was something wrong with it.
Bren’s apartment was too far to make a run for it.
As I watched, one wide paw stepped over the line of shadow and into the moonlight, and then a giant dog emerged. He was white with a gray mask and ruff, and easily the biggest dog I had ever seen. He made a low, grizzly sound in his throat, and I averted my eyes. I tried to remember if I was supposed to make eye contact or not, if I was supposed to stay still or back away, and thought of something I’d heard about dogs responding to confidence. It was the only thing I could think of.
I straightened up and faced the dog. The yellow eyes glared, a jag of white teeth flashing in his grin.
“Hey,” I said, my voice high and shaky. I tried again, forcing a sturdy tone. “Hey there. What are you doing out here in a hail storm? Where’s your person?”
The dog cocked his head to the side, took a step forward. I curled my fingers into my palms.
“I’m Jenna.” I said. “You’re huge, buddy. What the heck do you eat?” I shuddered. Rhetorical question, I thought at the dog, please don’t answer.
He took a few more steps. His fur was dusted with hail and shone in the moonlight. This was the shimmer I had seen moving in the dark.
“Are you cold?” I asked stupidly. “Probably not. You look like you belong out here.” This time, the dog closed the distance between us and my knees went weak with fear. He nudged my stomach with his muzzle once, twice, staring up at me impatiently. I reached out my curled hand, waiting until I made contact with his ruff to extend my fingers. His fur was as soft as down, and thick. I buried my hand in it and scratched the muscular shoulder beneath. Unbelievably, the dog closed his eyes and leaned against my legs, and I had to readjust my stance to keep from falling over. “I’ve never seen anything like you,” I said. “What’s your name?”
“Fenrir.”
I jerked my head up. A tall blonde stood before me in a white wool coat, collar turned up against the weather. Despite the angles of his face, he had a boyish look, his skin pale. His hair fell in long locks which stopped just above his shoulders, one white gold wisp slashing his forehead and curving back to bluntly graze his jaw. His eyes were denim blue, and familiar.
He slid his hands into his pockets, pulling his coat open to reveal a black silk shirt with half the buttons undone. The trim, defined muscles of his chest suggested he was probably in his twenties, but as I lifted my eyes to look into his face again, I guessed he was about eighteen.
“Fenrir,” I said. “Never heard that one. Is he friendly?” My fright had already begun to evaporate with the presence of the owner.
“Apparently.” He stared down at Fenrir. The do
g opened his eyes and stared back for a moment, then let his lids slide closed again. The blue eyes lifted once again to mine. “Are you?”
“That depends.” I knew him from somewhere, tried to picture him in one of my classes, or wearing an instructor’s jacket.
He pressed two fingers to his temple and extended them toward me in a gesture that looked like an apology. “Forgive me for terrorizing you in the middle of the night.” He grinned, his eyes gleaming. “It would’ve been more impressive if I’d done it in the day.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “You didn’t terrorize me. I just wasn’t expecting…”
“Beauty and the Beast?”
I jumped as Fenrir grumbled and glared over his shoulder. The blonde glanced at him. “I didn’t say who was who,” he said to the dog.
I laughed again, unable to figure it out myself. I pushed my other hand into the dog’s ruff. “What kind of dog is he?”
The blonde paused for a moment, watching me, then said, “Alaskan Malamute.” He pronounced the words slowly and punctuated each syllable, as if he was reading it aloud.
“He’s beautiful.”
“Thank you,” he said, not taking his eyes from mine. “It seems the feeling is mutual.” His voice was smooth and gritty at the same time, like fine sandpaper.
I glanced away, willing my face to stay pale and cool as I concentrated on sifting through the dog’s fur. He didn’t smell like a dog, smelled more like the outdoors…tree sap and firewood and pine. My fingers froze in the pelt. The scent was familiar. I forced my gaze upward, straightening as I did so, and met the cool blue eyes once again. They were not nearly as dark as they were the first time I had seen them, but I knew them now.
I swallowed his name, didn’t want him to see that I’d recognized him, but the way his eyes had hardened and his grin had contracted into a tiny smirk told me that it was too late.
“Jenna, isn’t it?” As I watched my name form on his lips I felt marked. Ice glazed my bones.
“How do you know my name?” I could not keep the waver from my voice.
“How do you know mine?”
There it was. The Asgardian way of questions for answers.
“What makes you think I do?”
His laugh was a deep, menacing rumble in his throat. The last of the hail shivered on the snow and fell silent.
“Because I can smell fear.” His voice was just above a whisper. He stepped toward me. Fenrir gave a small growl and shifted his body between us. “Easy boy.” He slid one hand out of his pocket, reached down and patted the dog’s side. “I’ve not forgotten my manners.”
His eyes moved over me, took in my stance, searched my expression, and when they met mine again, his irises were the color of a hazy summer sky.
“At the risk of distressing you further…” He pressed his right fist against his heart and bowed his head, holding my gaze, “I am Loki of Asgard.”
After a moment, he let his arm drop. “And now there are no answers to be questioned.”
He took another step toward me, his thighs connecting with Fenrir’s flank. When the dog growled, he gave a little hiss to quiet him. One of my hands moved nervously in Fenrir's fur, the other clenching and unclenching at my side. Loki leaned in, his breath licorice sweet.
“So perhaps we can talk of other things,” he said.
I stared, transfixed as I watched his gaze go dark again, hazy blue wisps swirling in his eyes like clouds across a black moon. The shadows of his lashes drew down, iron bars over twin night skies, and I was instantly peering out from a dank cell, imprisoned, longing to breathe the cold night air, run under the moon, stir the clouds into chaos. Despair choked the space around me and I was afraid to draw it into my lungs. So I held my breath, my pulse rocking my body, and felt a hot tear brim.
Before it had the chance to spill, I was jerked backward and spun around, hands grasping my arms and shaking me. “Jenna.” Bren’s voice, and then his face, and then the tear was a smear on a perfect view. I wiped it away.
He pressed his hands to the sides of my head. “Are you all right?”
I nodded, Fenrir’s anxious growls clearing my head. As I turned to look down at him, Frieda and Dag stepped up on either side of me. Frieda grasped my hand and pulled me behind them. Bren pivoted toward Loki, slowly, his expression murderous. He took two steps, bringing them within a foot of each other, and glared into Loki’s midnight eyes.
Fenrir bristled by Loki’s side, his head low, his snarl an unbroken roll through the quiet.
“What are you doing here?” Bren’s voice was thunder.
I heard an icy crush and then Val was over Bren’s shoulder. When I turned back, Frey was there, Dag’s arm held out across his chest to restrain him.
Loki remained still for a moment, then his lips curved into a devious grin. He spread his arms, glancing around him.
“Can’t a guy go on vacation?” He said.
“Who released you?” Bren lowered his head, his eyes fixed.
“Why don’t you return and find out? Exact your terrible wrath upon the offender.”
Bren leaned forward and Loki took a brisk step back, holding his grin. Fenrir tensed. Val reached out and pressed his fingers into Bren’s shoulder.
Loki glanced around again. “I like this place. It’s less …ostentatious… than I imagined. Cozier. Although I can’t see how these hills could possibly satisfy you. Or perhaps you’ve developed new appetites.” His eyes flicked to me and I held back a shudder.
“Look at her again,” Bren said, “and I will destroy you.” There was a sharp eagerness in his voice now. A last crack of thunder before the torrent.
“What are you waiting for? Do it.” It was Frey. He pushed against Dag’s arm like a bull in a pen.
Loki’s focus was firm on Bren, but his smile was gone. “That would make you a monster, wouldn’t it? A criminal. A murderer.” He said this last word in a long, rough whisper, his eyes widening for a moment and narrowing again. I felt tension hit my body from the outside, smacking into me like waves. It had Bren’s mark on it, his scent, the way he felt when he was close to me, and was mixed with a restrained rage that was not my own. I gasped under the weight of it.
Loki took another step back. He touched his fingers to his temple the way he had before and twirled his hand twice in a graceful tumble. He swept his eyes over the group - all but me - and then turned and walked back into the shadows. Fenrir stalked behind him, his huge, muscular shoulders rolling.
Chapter 21