Lokis gambit, p.98
Loki's Gambit, page 98
part #1 of I Bring the Fire Series
And then out of the blue, Bohdi says, “What you saw…That was fucking awful.”
Amy laughs. Well, it’s more of a sob. “That is…” The perfect description of what just happened.
“Yeah,” she manages to say. She begins to regain her feet. She doesn’t let go of Bohdi’s arm. For a few minutes, she forgot he was with her, but now she remembers, and she’s grateful…for the arm, for his understanding. And she feels a little guilty. “Bohdi, what you saw in the column when we first got here…”
He shakes his head. “It wasn’t as bad,” he says, and says no more.
If he elaborated, Amy might have believed him. Beatrice says that each person has his or her own way of coping. Beatrice survived the Holodomor famine instigated by Stalin in the Ukraine, and would know. So Amy doesn’t press. But she squeezes his arm.
She feels the wind rising behind her back. As if by some unspoken agreement, Bohdi’s and her steps quicken. Bohdi briefly turns to look behind them. “We’ve got to put some distance between us and the fire…otherwise we’re going to get smoked out of any shelter we find tonight.”
Amy nods her head, and releases his arm. Without speaking, they half-jog half-walk down the trail.
Sitting on a boulder, Bohdi eats his portion of the protein bar Amy stowed in her pocket. At his feet is a tiny stream that intersects with the river just a few yards down the trail. The stream is too small to hide kappa.
He stares down at the last bit of the protein bar in his hand, but in his mind, he sees Loki putting his fist through the mirror. Up until that moment, Bohdi hadn’t really believed Thor and Amy’s story about Loki destroying Cera out of an act of supreme self-sacrifice. He’s still not sure…still, the mirror…How dumb is it, to put your hand through a piece of glass? But it’s also understandable on a gut level. In the mirror, Loki had seen Amy—his girl, in trouble—not even his girl, really, but close enough. He’d reacted, in a way that was kind of noble, if stupid…which makes Amy’s quest to find him not quite as crazy as he thought…and that doesn’t exactly make him happy.
“Sheesh, I thought I was the one who hated protein bars,” Amy says.
Bohdi blinks at her. Sitting on a boulder beside him, she’s licking the last bits of her ration off her fingers. Her eyes are dry, but they’re still red rimmed.
“You’ve been glaring at it for the past three minutes,” she says.
Standing up, he pops the last bite in his mouth and gives her a grin. “Aren’t you glad I bought them now?”
“Aren’t you glad I didn’t eat it on the roof?” Amy counters, her lips curling into the barest hint of a smile.
He’s glad she’s not crying, but her mention of the roof makes the smile drop from his face. That seems like a world away. He swallows the bit of food. It is a world away. The enormity of what he’s done, where they are, suddenly catches up with him. He feels dizzy and short of breath. Or maybe that’s the smoke in the air.
“Hey, you okay?” Amy says, coming to his side and putting a hand on his arm. Mr. Squeakers twitches his whiskers on her shoulder.
Shrugging her hand away he says, “We should probably get a move on.”
Two creases appear on her brow, but she says, “Yes, right.”
They set off down the trail in silence. The wind has picked up, and Bohdi’s certain that the sound of trees falling in the fire’s wake is louder. As they start to walk, Amy says, “Thank you…for the protein bar.”
Not looking at her, Bohdi shrugs again.
“And thanks…for everything,” she says softly. Bohdi hears a sniff beside him.
His eyes slide to the side, and he feels an uncomfortable lump form in his throat. Amy’s wiping tears from her eyes again. A hopelessness he hadn’t felt when facing giant spiders slips into his limbs.
“Ugh…” she groans, shaking her hand as though trying to shake away her tears. “This isn’t the time for this.” She swallows and her face crumples. “Whenever I think of Eisa…” Her voice trails off, and she turns her head away.
The little girl. Her little girl. Bohdi’s never thought of himself as particularly sensitive, but he’s seen how even Steve gets worked up about his kid. And Amy getting worked up over Eisa, well, maybe he likes to hope someone gets that worked up about him. He clears his throat. “Yeah, must have been like being hit with a brick.” A painful collision with what might have been. Eisa might not be Bohdi’s, but she was a kid, and as Steve would say, “cute, perfect, and oblivious in the way kids are.”
Amy sniffles again and wipes her face.
What to do about this? Bohdi bites his lip. His hand seeks out his lighter in his pocket, and instead connects with a tissue. What an idiot he is! He has tissues, rumpled, possibly slightly used—but probably better than her sleeve.
“Hey,” he says, pulling one out without looking.
Amy turns, looks down at his hand, and then groans. “Just when I think you’re kind of okay…”
Rolling her eyes, she quickens her pace and steps ahead of him.
He looks down at his hand—and his eyes go wide. He just offered her Frieda’s thong. He chuckles. “Whoops, that’s probably unsanitary.” He considers tossing it aside, but decides that would be littering. Nornheim is kinda pristine and it seems wrong to spoil its one redeeming feature.
Ahead of him, Amy spins around. “It’s not just unsanitary, it’s wrong!”
“Huh?” says Bohdi breaking into a jog to catch up with her. “I thought it was a tissue—”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Amy says, turning her head to glare at him.
Get what? Bohdi’s eyes slide to the side, and his mind draws a blank. “Errr…no?”
Beside him, feet thumping loudly along the path, Amy mutters, “Throwing trophies of your conquest around.”
“Trophies of my conquest?” Bohdi says.
“The. Thong,” Amy spits out, eyes focused too deliberately straight ahead.
Pulling the thong out of his pocket again, Bohdi dangles the slip of pink satin on a finger. “This isn’t a trophy.”
Amy harumpfs. “Then why did you take it?”
Bohdi bites his lip. Should he…or shouldn’t he… Oh hell, he’s a United States Marine, he’s allowed to be secure in his masculinity. He cackles. “I couldn’t find my underwear so I borrowed hers!” He’d been in a bit of a rush. Frieda had gone off to the shower alluding to another round, and Bohdi had needed to make a quick escape.
Amy stops dead in her tracks.
Bohdi smiles and waggles his eyebrows. Bouncing the tiny piece of pink on his finger he says, “Girly satin is comfy.” He sighs dramatically. “But unfortunately, this little bit of ribbon wouldn’t provide even a lesser endowed male with support.”
Amy’s eyes go wide. Her gaze drops from his face to the waistband of his jeans. “So what are you—”
“Nothin’,” Bohdi says, biting back a smirk.
Groaning, she turns and begins walking again.
Bohdi skips a step to catch up. “I didn’t mean to take it after I realized how small it was, but when I left the hotel room, it was wrapped around my wrist, so I shoved it in my pocket—and then I forgot about it.”
His skin heats. “Until Bryant accused me of lying.”
Jaw clenched, Amy grinds out, “Throwing it was still wrong.”
Perplexed, Bohdi scratches his head. “Why?”
Amy lets out a heavy sigh. “How would you like it if someone threw your underwear at work?”
Bohdi’s smile drops. That’s a big question. “Why are they throwing it?”
“Because they had sex with you, and you forgot and left it at their place…I don’t know.” The last words come out in a huff.
How would Bohdi feel about that?
“Well?” Amy says, hopping over a large root on the trail.
Bohdi taps his chin. “So everyone in the office would know I had sex?”
“Yes,” Amy snips.
Bohdi laughs. “Awesome! You know, some people have strange ideas about Asian men.”
Amy groans. “Okay, don’t think how it would make you feel, think about how it would make the woman feel.”
Bohdi purses her lips. There is a right answer to this question, if he thinks hard…
“Humiliated!” Amy says. “It’s not fair, but there’s a double standard, and yes she would feel utterly humiliated.”
Bohdi’s eyes widen, and then narrow as he recalls his night with Frieda. “Then she might actually like it.”
“What?” says Amy, her nose wrinkling.
Bohdi shrugs. “Frieda, the owner of this…” He holds up the tiny slip of fabric. “…was totally in to the humiliation thing.”
Amy draws to a stop. Her hands go to her hips, and she glares up at him.
Stopping only long enough to give her a curt nod, Bohdi continues down the trail. “The only reason she was with me was because she got off on me being Steve’s lowly minion.”
Amy scampers as she catches up with him. “Did she call you his lowly minion?”
Bohdi nods again. “Yep.”
“And you were okay with that?”
Bohdi shrugs. “She was hot.”
“Who uses the words lowly minion?”
Bohdi stops short. That was a little weird. Shaking his head, he starts walking again. “Look, some people like a lot weirder stuff, I’m not here to judge. As long as there are no clown outfits, or scat, or…”
“Stop, I get the idea!” Amy says.
Bodhi stuffs the thong back into his pocket and readjusts the branch he’s carrying in his hand. “So anyway, yeah. Frieda was totally into the humiliation thing. She made me tell her over and over again what a bad girl she was, and then she flung herself across my lap and made me spank her.” Grimacing, he adds, “It was kind of a lot of work. I dunno if the payoff was worth it…even though she was hot. I hurt my hand, my arm got tired, and I had to use my belt, and then…”
“I don’t believe this,” Amy mutters.
“That some people enjoy being humiliated? It’s just a game, it’s not how they are in real life…”
“No!” says Amy.
Bohdi scowls, disappointed. “That’s very closed-minded of you, Amy. It’s true. Humiliation turns some people on, and judging…” He tsks.
“I’m not being judgmental! I just can’t believe you’re telling me how you spanked her with your belt!” Amy cries, putting both hands to her face. She groans. “Believe me, I know some people like to be humiliated.”
Bohdi’s feet slow. It would probably be in bad form to ask how she knows. He bites his tongue. Literally. It’s the only way he can keep his mouth shut.
In front of him, Amy sighs. “Freyja…Loki had to find a way to get into her home to find the necklace…”
The morning in Asgard is misty and cool. Loki snaps his fingers. In the cave, he’d learned how to split water molecules into hydrogen and oxygen. A small flame sputters to life at the tip of his thumb, fed by the humid air. He hasn’t learned how to control his temper.
His jaw clenches. If he didn’t love his sons so much, he’d kill them. Apparently, Heimdall has overheard Nari and Valli discuss much more radical changes than expansion of the Diar. Unlike Freyja, Nari and Valli don’t pose a credible threat to Odin’s power, but Odin could have them tried for treason.
Odin has offered Loki a bargain—find Freyja’s necklace, destroy her reputation—and Nari’s and Valli’s crimes will be forgotten and forgiven.
Snapping his fingers again, Loki feels the bite of flame on his skin. Scowling, he remembers asking the Allfather how exactly he was supposed to sneak into Freyja’s chambers. Freyja has cats. Two of them. The humans speculate that they pull her chariot. That is ludicrous, of course. Convincing even just two cats to work as a team is beyond even Freyja’s considerable magical skills. They do, however, have keen noses for enchantment. If Loki were to try and sneak into her chambers invisibly, they’d be all over him, alerting her guards to his presence.
The only solution is to be invited into Freyja’s hall. When Loki reminded Odin of that fact, the Allfather replied, “Get yourself invited the same way you have always gotten yourself invited.”
Loki felt his skin heat in rage.
Odin cocked an eyebrow. “What, are you worried about Sigyn finding out?”
Loki’s jaw tensed. Odin snorted.
Sigyn had changed during Loki’s time in the cave. She’d taken up with the Valkyries as soon as the boys were able to fend for themselves, learning for herself the art of combat. She’d also begun studying the rapidly evolving cultures and happenings on Earth. She regularly advised Freyja on where to find new candidates for the Einherjar. And although the Aesir rarely heard prayers from humans anymore, when they did, they went to Sigyn to learn how to walk among the mortals without drawing undue attention.
The woman who had so tenderly and loyally cared for Loki for two hundred years had become ferocious—mentally and physically. How could Loki not adore her? How could he not fall in love with her all over again?
Also, with the boys out of the house, the sex that had been good before had become fantastic.
“Just make sure Sigyn doesn’t find out,” Odin suggested. Leaning closer to Loki, with a slight sneer on his face, he added, “Believe me, Freyja isn’t likely to croon about your activities now that she has Ord.” Odin’s expression had gone dark. “Her relationship with him and the birth of their daughters has only increased her respectability. Now people see her as having more important concerns than laying men or slaying them.”
Loki snaps his fingers once again. Flames bite his skin again, jolting him from the memory. In front of him, Ord himself comes striding through the mist. Ord was only half grown when Loki went to the cave, but he’s grown into a man who is generically handsome—tall, broad of shoulder, blond, blue eyed, with a square jaw. He is fierce and respected on the battlefield, earning the respect of all the warriors. Off the battlefield, he is humble, funny without being offensive, genial, kind to children, courtly with women, and overall quite popular.
Loki dislikes him on principle. With a nod in Ord’s direction, he graces the soon-to-be-cuckolded man with a smirk.
Ord stops short. But instead of hurling the expected insult, he offers his hand in Loki’s direction. Dipping his chin, Ord says almost shyly, “Loki, Thor has told me about your quest to find Gungnir, and of the humans you saved from trolls and kappa.” He shakes his head almost apologetically. “I am sorry to have been too young to join you.”
Somewhat in shock, Loki takes the proffered hand. Ord shakes it warmly and puts his other hand on Loki’s shoulder. “I look forward to fighting beside you someday. Thor has told me many times of your cunning.”
Surprisingly, Loki detects no lie.
Odin has said that, besides the magic necklace, Ord is Freyja’s greatest asset in her quest for political power. For the first time, Loki understands why. Ord’s likeability is infuriating.
Loki smiles as genuinely as he can. Smiling back as though Loki has just bestowed upon him a great honor, Ord gives Loki a thump on the shoulder, and with a reverent nod, walks away.
Loki’s nostrils flare in annoyance as soon as Ord is out of sight. For all his niceness, the other man has made Loki’s quest too easy. When he approaches Freyja, shooting arrows with machine-like precision into a distant target, Loki knows exactly what to say.
As she nocks an arrow in her bow, Loki smiles. “I just met your husband. He is quite charming.”
Freyja is rarely the same woman twice. She changes her appearance to suit her and her lovers’ fancies—it’s a skill she had even before coming into the possession of the dwarven magical necklace. Today she is wearing the guise of a blonde, blue-eyed Aesir beauty. At Loki’s words, she smiles triumphantly and lets her arrow fly into the target.
As she nocks another arrow, Loki slips up behind her and whispers in her ear. “But such a shame that he doesn’t know how depraved you can be. He doesn’t know how to punish you, does he?”
Freyja trembles, and the arrow flies wide.
“What do you want, Loki?” Freyja whispers.
“To help you, of course,” Loki says.
Turning to face him, Freyja licks her wide pink lips, and Loki knows he’s won, and he hates her for it. He hates the whole situation—Nari and Valli at Odin’s mercy, Odin’s machinations, the jeopardy he’s putting his relationship with Sigyn in.
He doesn’t really want to have sex with Freyja, but he finds he really wants to hurt her, more than he ever had in any of their games before.
For a few heartbeats, she says nothing, and then she whispers. “Meet me at my home in an hour.” Pulling another arrow from her quiver with shaky hands, she returns her gaze to the target. She lets the arrow fly…and her aim once more is true.
“So,” Bohdi says, walking down the trail beside Amy. “Freyja, the kick-ass Goddess of War—”
“And Love and Beauty,” Amy supplies, scowling a little at him for interrupting.
“—was a bit of a masochist and maybe into a bit of humiliation?” Bohdi says. Waving the branch in his hand, he says, “Kind of fits my theory that the high-powered people like that sort of thing.” Pulling the thong out of his pocket, he swings it around his finger. “Frieda was a beautiful, high-powered, lawyer type. She’d be extra humiliated if she knew everyone knew that she slept with lowly minion me.”
“You still shouldn’t be throwing underwear around!” Amy snaps.
Bohdi blinks at her. His face is the picture of befuddlement. Amy feels her skin heat.
“It creates a hostile work environment!”
Bohdi purses his lips and looks to the side. “Technically, I wasn’t at work when I—”
Ignoring the semantics, Amy puts her hands on her hips. “Even if you didn’t take it as a trophy—even if you just stole it—”
Drawing his head back, Bohdi holds up the slip of fabric. “It wasn’t stealing, I worked for this. Smacking a woman’s ass until you think your hand will bleed is—”
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