Gods and Mortals: Fourteen Free Urban Fantasy & Paranormal Novels Featuring Thor, Loki, Greek Gods, Native American Spirits, Vampires, Werewolves, & More (31 page)

Before Loki knows what is happening, Thor swats Loki’s back with his hand. Stumbling forward, Loki barely manages to keep his feet. “From now on you come with me on every troll hunting expedition, Loki!”

“Lovely,” says Loki, scowling down at the troll innards on his armor. Not that he doubted it would be otherwise. Just before this trip Odin informed Loki that his job as retainer now was to accompany Thor on all his quests.

“We should tell Baldur!” Thor declares, pulling Loki by the arm away from the World Gate. “We’ll invite him to come with us on our next adventure.”

Loki’s stomach twists and he scowls. He detests Baldur. He detests that everyone thinks Baldur is beautiful, brave and wise. He detests that they think Baldur is good. And he detests that Mimir has suggested that the reason for this seething dislike is jealousy...and that there may be some truth to that.

Loki would never be accused of being ugly, but his ‘fair countenance’ is almost an insult in itself. He doesn’t look as roughly hewn or as square in the jaw as a typical Aesir, or even Jotunn. He’s only of average height, and he’s too thin, despite the fact that only Thor’s appetite is a match for his.

And Loki’s not considered brave. He’s simply not much good at feigning battle lust or interest in killing trolls. If he wasn’t ordered by Odin to watch after Thor, he would have spent the last few days in the library — he’d really like to master astral projection.

Finally, absolutely no one would consider Loki wise. He has too much fun with his magic. Loki knows he shouldn’t take such delight in making himself appear like a Valkyrie upon occasion, or pulling the occasional flower from Odin’s nose, but he just can’t help himself.

Looking for any way to avoid a run in with Baldur, Loki says, “Shouldn’t you go home to see your wife Sif first?”

“No, no, no,” says Thor, walking briskly towards the palace, now under the illusion of Roman Golden Age architecture. “She’ll understand. She is a fine wife, Loki, and doesn’t begrudge me a bit my adventures and traveling — this is just a bit more of the journey.”

Loki raises an eyebrow. She doesn’t begrudge it probably because it leaves more time for her whoring. Sif is so easy with her affections, even Loki is uninterested in her.

Thor smiles and looks sideways at Loki. “But perhaps you’d just like to see your Lady Sigyn?”

“She is not my lady,” says Loki , feeling heat rise to his face. Are his affections so obvious? Sigyn left the court for a few decades to live in the realm of Alfheim — the stay has given her an interesting perspective on a foreign culture and on Asgard’s own. She is a rather fascinating companion for conversation. And she still seems to fancy Loki, maybe because Loki occasionally protected her with his magic when they were children, or maybe because she hasn’t been steeped in court gossip — Loki does have a bit of a reputation. It is pathetic, but her genuine warmth towards him makes Loki go absolutely soft inside. And although he protests her decline of his physical advances he actually rather respects her for it. How many times after a physical conquest has he decided the prize was too dull to be worth keeping? Even Freyja for all her beauty and charm was rather a bore after a while.

Loki blinks. Perhaps Sigyn does know his reputation.

“She hasn’t hooked you yet then!” yells Thor, slapping Loki’s back again jovially. Loki tries not to wince; it takes effort. “But she will!”

Loki keeps his eyes forward. The idea of being hooked by Sigyn is strangely not as unsettling as it should be.

They veer away from the palace proper to Briedablick, Baldur’s hall. As Briedablick comes into view, Loki scowls again. He’s heard the place is quite beautiful to others' eyes; everyone tells Loki it glows. All Loki can see is the dark swirl of Baldur’s magic around the massive gray stone structure as they approach. As usual, when he is around Baldur, he feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

A few minutes later they are ushered into the foyer by a servant who bows and says, “I will go inform my master you are here, Thor.” Tipping his head first to Thor and then Loki, he leaves.

From down the hall in the opposite direction of the servant’s departure comes a feminine squeak and a rough male gasp.

Thor’s eyes go wide. “The servant went the wrong way!” he says delightedly.

Rolling his eyes at Thor’s childishness, Loki says, “So it would seem.” Tipping his head in the direction of the exit, he says, “We should go.”

Another male grunt echoes in the foyer.

Snickering like a little boy, Thor doesn’t move. “Who do you think is sampling Baldur’s beauty right now?”

Loki’s jaw tenses and he stares at the large man before him. Despite the fact that Baldur likes Thor, Loki doesn’t hate him. Thor is loud, gregarious, and far too trusting. But he actually complimented Loki on an illusion he cast to confuse the troll they killed — it is nice to have his abilities are appreciated for once.

And Thor isn’t stupid, no matter how he tries to hide his brain on occasion. They had a decent conversation about Troll nesting habits as they started out on their quest. Loki thinks he could actually like Thor, if he were to let himself. Even Mimir has said that Thor has the potential to be Loki’s ally and true friend...and Loki can see that happening, if he just plays along and is nice.

But he can’t quite do it. Smirking, Loki says, “Well, I think we can safely assume it isn’t his mother.”

Thor tilts his head, his childish grin fading.

Lifting an eyebrow, Loki crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the wall. “But other than that...really it could be anyone.”

“I think you insult Baldur and a great many virtuous women,” says Thor, a furrow settling in his brow.

Loki should stop, should apologize. Instead, he lets the truth slip from his lips. “Oh, I suppose the old men are probably safe, and probably the livestock, too.” His lips quirk. “Maybe.”

Thor steps forward, his face going a little red. “End this jest now, Trickster.”

And Loki should, because Thor, like everyone but Loki, is blind to Baldur’s shortcomings. Thor doesn’t see how Baldur’s charms, illusory though they are, are irresistible to all of Asgard. Thor doesn’t see how Baldur abuses them.

Loki shouldn’t test Thor this way, shouldn’t set himself up to lose a potential comrade. There is a loud grunt from down the hall. Thor turns his head, momentarily distracted.

Loki should apologize. But he can’t.

There is the sound of a door creaking. And then there is the sound of soft feminine footfalls. Thor, looking in the direction of the footsteps, smiles. It isn’t a friendly smile.

Curious despite himself, Loki lets his gaze go down the hall...and sees a rumpled Sigyn emerging.

Loki’s mouth drops. He feels like he may throw up.

Thor pulls away from Loki to let Sigyn pass. Her eyes go up to Thor’s and her face reddens. And then her eyes meet Loki’s.

Her face crumples into a look of confusion and sadness. “Loki... I...”

Loki’s mouth goes to a hard line, and he looks away from her.

From the corner of his eye, he sees her bow her head. Turning, she runs out the door.

Thor laughs lowly. “You should see your face.”

Loki hears a grinding noise...it’s his own teeth. He is suddenly angrier at Thor than he is angry at Sigyn or even Baldur. Sigyn was obviously charmed by Baldur’s glamour, like everyone else. Baldur was just an ass, like always, and Loki expected no better from him — nor can Loki retaliate against the crown prince.

But Thor...Loki had hoped better of Thor. He had hoped for the bastard’s friendship — some loyalty, some understanding. Loki uncrosses his arms and steps away from the wall towards the larger man. The air between them seems to shimmer. Thor narrows his eyes and his hands ball into fists.

At that moment Baldur comes down the hall. “Oh, brother! Loki!” Baldur says, and both Thor and Loki turn. Baldur is adjusting his shirt. Loki has seen paintings of Baldur, he knows what other people see, a crown of golden curls, tanned golden skin, blue eyes on a face chiseled like a roman sculpture, broad shoulders and height nearly as tall as Thor’s. Loki sees a tangle of light brown hair, a slightly pudgy face with narrow hazel eyes and a soft body only as tall as his own.

“Loki,” says Baldur, smirking slightly, though Loki has no doubt he appears to be smiling benevolently to Thor. “I think you know Lady Sigyn?”

“No,” says Loki. “Not well.”

He shoots a sidelong gaze toward Thor, daring him to contradict him.

Thor says nothing. But he smiles, a knowing, cruel smile.

That smile changes everything.

Later that night at the banquet, Loki stands behind Odin at the table, behaving like a truly proper retainer — albeit a slightly drunk one. Thor is boasting of his exploits to a crowd of happy admirers. In a far corner, Sif has her own admirers. Sigyn is nowhere to be seen.

Odin, deep into his cups, slams his goblet down on the table. The clang is drowned out by the sound of Thor’s laughter further down the table. Glaring in the direction of Sif, Odin snarls. “I have warned him about her. He is becoming a laughingstock!”

Pushing back from the table, Odin growls and stands from his chair. “I can’t watch this.”

Pursing his lips, Loki says, “If you permit me, sire, I’ll take care of it.”

Snorting, Odin says, “Good luck.” And then the giant man turns and storms from the hall.

As soon as Odin has left, Loki walks over to Sif.

“Here to grace me with your silver tongue, Trickster?” the lady asks.

A reputation can be a helpful thing. Loki smiles. Very shortly afterwards he is in Sif’s bedchamber.

After the “lady” falls asleep, Loki trims her golden locks. Gathering them in his hands, he ties them in one of her own ribbons. When Thor returns home Loki is waiting for him at the front door.

As he throws the shorn locks, the traditional symbol of an unfaithful wife, at Thor’s feet, Loki smiles as sweetly as he can. “You should see your face,” he says.

He completely expects the beating that comes next.

What he doesn’t expect is for Hoenir and Mimir to be so unsympathetic when he comes crawling to the hut for help.

“You did what!” Mimir screeches. Loki winces from where he lays atop Hoenir’s workbench, the self-satisfied smile slipping from his lips.

Hoenir slaps a hand down hard on a rib he is repairing. Loki’s eyes go wide. Hoenir is actually scowling at him. Hoenir never scowls at him.

“I gave Thor proof of his wife’s infidelity,” says Loki, and Hoenir’s hand comes down hard on another rib.

“You’re supposed to be helping me fix that,” says Loki lifting his head.

Hoenir just raises an eyebrow.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” says Mimir. “Do you know what you would do if someone slept with your wife?”

Raising an eyebrow, Loki drops his head on the bench. “As I don’t have a wife and am unlikely to acquire one — ”

“I’ll tell you what you’d do!” Mimir says, voice trembling. “You’d cut him up into little pieces, that’s what you’d do.”

Loki blinks...there is something in that, something he can’t quite place. He raises his head.

Mimir’s face is livid. “And then you’d take all those pieces and flush them all down the — ”

“Mimir!” Odin’s voice rings through the hut.

Loki’s blood goes cold.

“Don’t talk about that, Mimir,” and Loki blinks because he almost thinks he hears worry in Odin’s voice. But a few moments more and Odin is leaning over him. He doesn’t look worried. Oddly, he doesn’t look as angry as he did after Baldur’s birth. He looks more...disgusted.

“You told me he was turning into a laughingstock,” Loki says. “I told you I’d take care of it, and I have. I delivered proof that — ”

“Sif has told everyone you used your magic to sneak in on her while she slept,” says Odin.

“And people believe that?” says Mimir. “From that trollop?”

Odin’s eyes don’t leave Loki’s. “What matters is what Thor thinks. He believes his wife. Which is lucky — otherwise you could be tried for treason.”

Loki swallows, his brow furrowing. He was only obeying orders. The fickleness and duplicity of royalty.

“— but he is only requesting your banishment,” says Odin, his eyes narrowing.

The breath catches in Loki’s throat. Odin doesn’t mean banishment to Alfheim, Jotunheim, Vaneheim or any of the other civilized worlds. He can only mean Midgard. There is a very small part of him that wants to accept that fate, sees it almost as an open door from a cage, but his rational mind tells him what he would be accepting is a short, painful life, and death by plague — or in his case, more likely hunger.

Odin’s lip curls up. “Fix this, Loki.” He stares down at Loki for a few moments more, and Loki feels himself shrinking. And then Odin turns and strides from the room.

Loki looks at Hoenir. He doesn’t meet his eyes. He looks to Mimir, and the head winces. “You owe Sif, Thor and Odin a very big apology.”

S
taring at Amy
, Loki feels the heat of Thor’s first betrayal, that first cruel laugh, itching beneath his skin. How could he have trusted Thor after that?

Beatrice’s voice startles Loki out of his dark reverie. “So did you get Thor his hammer, Sif the golden wig, Odin Daupnir and Gungnir — and the boat for Frey?”

“Daupnir, Gungnir, boat?” says Amy.

Loki smiles a brittle smile. “Daupnir is a lovely little ring. The boat is called Skidbladnir. It has a clever way of folding into time so that all of it that remains in real-time can fit in the palm of your hand.”

Amy’s face lights up, “It sounds kind of like the TARDIS!”