Mist (24 page)

One of the doormen rushed ahead of Loki to flag down a taxi, but Loki summoned an empty stretch limousine waiting to pick up a client. He smiled at the driver, who went blank-eyed under his influence and quickly moved to open the rear passenger door. The limo possessed a well-stocked minibar, and Loki poured himself a Scotch and soda as the driver eased into late commute traffic, bound for the Ritz-Carlton.

Dainn.

Loki stared at the back of the driver’s head through the glass partition. In all the centuries since the Dispersal, he had been ignorant of Dainn’s fate. The catastrophic event had taken place just as he had been violently resisting Dainn’s attempt to kill him. Dainn should have been sent to the Shadow-Realm of the Alfar, as each race had joined its own kind in the Void.

But Dainn had been rejected by his own people and the Aesir. Even though Freya had convinced Odin to stop Thor from executing the elf, Loki had very good cause to know that Odin’s curse had been in full effect. The pain in his mind had been exquisite as the beast tore through it, raking his thoughts to shreds with invisible claws even as Dainn’s strong but ordinary hands were locked around his throat.

That was the last they had seen of each other. And now Loki knew Dainn was alive. Alive and working for Freya. Doubtless waiting for another chance to destroy his most hated enemy.

Rubbing at his throat, Loki closed his eyes. Was the curse still in effect? Dainn had lost so much of his magic when the Eitr had been taken from him, but he had enough to be of use to Freya above all the other Alfar she might have sent to Midgard. He had defeated Loki’s best Jotunar fighters. He had spoken into Mist’s mind. He had opened the path for Freya’s possession of her daughter’s body.

“He fears you because he fears the Lady,”
Dainn had whispered, his thoughts going wide of their intended mark. But the elf was wrong. Utterly, egregiously wrong.

Loki laughed, causing the driver to look nervously in his rearview mirror. Loki fogged the glass between them. How ironic that Freya had offered him a “choice” to come back to the Aesir. As if Odin and Thor would ever have him. As if he would go crawling to them, begging forgiveness.

They still didn’t understand. Without him, all the Homeworlds would have descended into rot and stagnation before the first intelligent mortals walked on Midgard.

If there were choices to be made, others would be making them. He had offered Mist an alliance before Freya’s arrival, certain she knew her Sisters’ whereabouts and that he could find a way to use her against her mother now that he had been forced to act.

But she had turned him down.
Turned him down.
And then she had lost herself.

For a time. But he had seen Freya leave her, known when Mist had reclaimed her body and struggled to make sense of what had happened to her and what she had done. There had been no direct communication between Freya and her daughter, no willing cooperation—of that, Loki was certain. If his suspicions were correct, Mist wouldn’t be permitted to understand. Freya intended to return to that same body whenever she wished to work her will in Midgard.

And how convenient it had all turned out to be for her. Loki glanced at a passing Humvee, considering whether or not it might be pleasurable to blast out all its windows.

He decided against the effort and forced his thoughts back into far less satisfying channels. Of course neither he nor Freya had known what would happen before Ragnarok. She could not have made such plans in advance, nor had she shown any interest in her daughter in Asgard.

But she knew her daughter had been sent to Midgard before the Dispersal. She knew how much magic it would take to shape herself a new physical body of her own while she struggled to hold the others in their quiescent state; she would have to use her Eitr as Loki had, losing her single advantage and her ability to enforce the rules of their game.

No, Loki could not imagine that she would allow Mist to learn what she really intended for her offspring. Mist might have days left, perhaps weeks, before Freya took full possession. And Mist deserved it, the bitch. Unless she discovered what was happening and fought against it.

Loki stretched, amused by the idea of Freya and her daughter at odds. Of course, there was no doubt which of the two would win. Mist had almost no magic of her own. Freya was going to be a problem much sooner than Loki had anticipated, but he would deal with it.
And
Dainn.

“Sir?” the driver’s voice spoke through the intercom. “We’re at the Ritz-Carlton.”

The limousine pulled up to the curb, and a uniformed bellman was immediately at the passenger door to help Loki out of the vehicle. He seemed confused at first that Loki had no luggage, but Loki’s quick smile convinced him that there was nothing unusual about such a well- dressed, attractive man desiring to check in without baggage.

The bellman accompanied him to the front desk, where an efficient, obliging clerk assured him that the guests who had reserved the Presidential Suite would not be at all put out if Loki took the rooms instead. He ordered room service with a bottle of Veuve Clicquot Cave Privée Rosé, 1978, kicked off his shoes, and lay back on the bed, listening to the rush of traffic far below his window.

There was one thing that still puzzled him. He still didn’t understand why Dainn hadn’t tried to kill him. He would have defeated Dainn in a head-to-head match, of course, but he knew that the elf was capable of very human emotions, including an irrational and reckless anger that had become all the more deadly under the influence of the beast.

Yet Freya trusted him. She must expect him to protect Mist. Why hadn’t he come to Mist’s direct aid in Asbrew?

Because he fears me,
Loki thought. He closed his eyes as a fresh rush of bubbles slid over his tongue.
He fears me because he once loved me, and he can never forgive himself.

That was one
very
pleasant thought. So was the memory of how easily he’d gotten the better of Odin’s son. No, Vidarr would be no trouble. He, too, was afraid.

Still, as much as it galled him, Loki knew he must be patient a little longer. Considering that he’d found several of the bridges closed since he’d taken Gungnir—closed for no reason he could yet determine—he couldn’t be sure how soon he would be able to bring more Jotunar into Midgard.

Once his alliances with Briggs and with mortals of a lower and more violent sort were fully established, he would be able to buy himself more time. Tomorrow his new headquarters would be ready for occupation, the apartment fully furnished to his specifications, the conference room ready for meetings, offices prepared for the employees he was already beginning to accumulate. Freya still had a great deal of catching up to do. And long as she maintained her own mind, Mist would try to come after him. Dainn would try to stop her. But if he failed . . .

Loki licked his lips.
Then, Lady Sow,
he thought,
we shall see who determines the fate of Midgard.

Dainn was standing over Mist’s bed when she woke.

She nearly jumped out of her skin, snatching for Kettlingr on the bedside table.

“Skita,”
she swore, putting the knife down again. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Vali is at the door,” he said, his face expressionless. “What time is it?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

“Nearly nine o’clock.”

Mist swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I didn’t know I’d slept that long.”

The elf regarded her out of eyes nested in circles as dark as his hair. He still wore Vid’s clothes, which hung on his body like deflated airbags.

“The kids?” she asked.

“Sleeping.”

“I’ll check on them later. Take a shower while I’m talking to Vali.

You need it.”

Backing away silently, Dainn left the room. She wondered briefly if she’d offended him and dismissed the thought as irrelevant. Sparing his pride was not high on her list of priorities.

Vali was waiting in the kitchen. The burly blond was sober—a very good sign—but his expression was grave.

“Sorry I couldn’t get away earlier,” he said. “I didn’t want Vidarr to know I had urgent business. He would’ve been suspicious.”

Indeed he would have,
Mist thought. The only urgent business Vali ever had was with a bottle. At least, until now.

Mist poured herself a glass of water. “You weren’t able to talk to him?”

“Nope. He’s avoided me ever since you and the elf left Asbrew. I think you really surprised him, Mist.”

“Surprise” wasn’t really the way Mist would have described Vid’s reaction. “I have a few things to tell you. Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked.

“Same as you’re having.” He smiled and sat down at the table.

“I’m jumping on the wagon.”

Mist wanted to hug the old bear. “Good. I’ll be needing you to think clearly.”

She gave him a brief account of the teenagers’ strange arrival and what little she knew of them. Vali made all the appropriate noises of surprise and concern.

“What are you going to do with them?” he asked when she was finished.

“Not sure yet. But there’s something more important I need to discuss with you. Remember when I told you I was going to need your help?”

Vali blinked at her. “You really need me?”

“Desperately.” She filled a glass from a bottle of spring water in the fridge and set it in front of Vali. “You’ve always been sharp—

smarter than Vidarr in most ways—and you’ve never gotten the credit for it.”

“What exactly do you want me to do?”

“You understand what Loki is planning, Val? What’s really at stake?”

“Sure. Loki wants to take over the world.”

“And are you okay that Dainn will be working with me? Can you accept someone your brother called a traitor?”

Vali shrugged. “I figure you wouldn’t have anything to do with him if he were as bad as they say. Freya trusts him, I guess.

Maybe he made mistakes, like he said, but everyone needs a second chance.”

Bless you,
Mist thought, relieved that she’d judged Vali correctly.

“Thanks,” she said. “As for your part in this . . . I remember how good you were with computers. I seem to recall that you did a little hacking back in the nineties.”

Staring down at his glass, Vali shook his head. “It was just showing off. Mainly practical jokes, nothing really harmful. I wanted to prove I was better at something than Vid was.”

“Well, what you’ll be doing now—if you agree—is hacking for a vital purpose. We need to find the other Valkyrie and the Treasures before Loki does, and you can help us do that.”

Vali looked up, surprise and speculation in his eyes. “You really don’t know where they are?”

“No. They could be anywhere. We’ll need access to databases in every part of the world—and not just the publicly accessible ones—so we can look for clues that might lead us to them.”

Rising abruptly, Vali floundered about the kitchen like a boar in a birdcage. “Odin’s bloody eye,” he swore. “You’re talking about stuff like banking accounts, personnel files, phone records—”

“And a lot more, including national and international security organizations, if we have to go that far. I hope we won’t. Wherever they are, my Sisters have been living in Midgard as long as I have.

They’ve adapted, as I have. They all have lives that can be traced.”

“Do you have any idea what that would involve?” Vali asked.

“They’ve probably moved around, just like you did before you came here. Maybe
you
kept your real name, but do you think the others have? Especially after dozens of mortal lifetimes?”

“We’ll work out some parameters for the search, like references to names or objects associated with what mortals regard as Norse mythology.”

“Do you think the other Valkyrie would have used their Treasures?”

“I don’t know.” She watched Loki pace from one end of the kitchen to the other. “Look, Val, I know it’s not going to be easy, and it may take time, maybe even months—”

“Months?” Vali laughed. “More like centuries.”

“Maybe not. When you used to hack, did you ever use magic?” Flushing, Vali thumped against the counter like a pinball finally coming to rest. “Sometimes,” he stammered. “I figured out a few tricks. But I always thought it was cheating, so—”

“It won’t be cheating now. You can be sure Loki won’t leave anything to chance. He’ll be hiring his own experts. Every resource is crucial.
You’re
crucial, Val.”

Odin’s son returned to the table and fell into the chair again, setting the wood to groaning under his weight. “I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to do even half of what you’re asking. The Internet can only take you so far. Even private government databases aren’t likely to have records on more than a fraction of their citizens. And there are dozens of countries that barely have any kind of computer records.”

“All I ask is that you try. Use any magic you think will help.” Vali released a gusty sigh, for once clean of the scent of hard liquor. “I’ll give it my best shot.” His eyes brightened. “Maybe it will even be fun.”