Bad.
Not wrong. Not incorrect. Just bad. That is the only word she could think of.
How could I be so stupid? Sarah thought vehemently.
Across from her sat a ginger haired man smiling demonically. He's clearly insane, her heart practically stopped. It was late, there was only one librarian on the first floor, she would never hear Sarah scream, not that it would matter if she did.
"Oh, come now, Sarah." He said cheerfully as if he knew what she was thinking. "Don't be too critical of yourself, how could you've known?"
She inhaled deeply, assuming that humoring him would give her the best chance of ultimate survival. He was a trickster, and she knew the type. How could I be so stupid?
"If I had known, I would've left you alone, I swear. I didn't mean…" she gulped as a manic gleam twinkled in his eyes.
"Ah, intentions. How very mortal of you."
Sarah had made a major misstep. I should've left magic alone…
The man before her had seemed normal enough, except for the fact that he liked to sport a few unruly braids in his copper colored locks. He was poetic, lithe, and distractingly attractive. All things that should be avoided if you were Sarah Williams on a research leave in Reykjavik. While being delicious would've sufficed in gaining her attention, he had also harbored the unmistakable-at least for someone with experience in that sort of thing-hint of magic...although she hadn't bargained on it being of the divine variety.
He'd looked so harmless reading in the café. Walking over with careless charm, Sarah had pushed a cup of coffee in his direction.
His eyes flickered from the book to the offering, and back up to hers. "Takk."
"Ekkert að þakka." She didn't even stumble over the unfamiliar syllables that time.
"From your accent, I take it that you're an American?" He closed his book, tilting his head at her in a decidedly vulpine fashion. That should have been the signal to run.
She'd sat down and immediately fell into easy conversation with Mr. Gorgeous. Although, she'd felt that he had watched her too intensely, that his eyes picked up everything, he seemed such a clever boy-and that unnerved her. What Sarah didn't know was what exactly Mr. Gorgeous was noting. His sharp eyes saw the minuscule hints of magic that hung about Ms. I-Am-Presumptuous-Enough-To-Offer-Coffee-To-A-God. It was Goblin magic, something he knew little about. He had never encountered the Glittery Monarch, but rumor held that he did not like for others to play with his toys.
It'd been such a long time since he'd gotten into any serious Mischief. How fortunate that fun came trotting up to him dressed in tight fitting jeans and ruby-red lipstick.
Sarah had asked him out for dinner, he agreed. They'd shared several outings before she began to think that he maybe wasn't all that he seemed. Her brain misfired around him. First of all, she never thought to ask his name, never called him anything, never introduced him to someone else. Of course, other people never appeared to be around if they could help it. There was something wrong with the way he laughed, it was utterly wicked. She blushed remembering other things about him that were wicked as well.
Oh gods! She though ironically.
Well, she just couldn't leave it alone, she couldn't make some reasonable excuse and run, which would have been sensible, especially in her case. Her track record with mythical madmen was not pretty.
She'd guessed that he wasn't mortal, the hint of magic confirmed that, but she had taken him for an innocuous type of creature who was happy to have a good time with her. That is, until she noticed how other people shied away from him. How his eyes sometimes appeared hollow and hard, icily cruel.
After several weeks, she had made a list of his obvious characteristics. Ginger, jolly in a manic sort of way, clever, possibly ruthless, and certainly...unpredictable. Illusive was another great moniker. She'd hit the interwebs trying to sort through Germanic mythology, looking at generic groupings of beings initially, and then it became insultingly obvious as she moved into the Norse Pantheon, who he resembled. At that point she tried to distance herself, but he knew what she knew, and he hadn't said that their game was finished. Hence his sudden and unnerving presence on the fourth floor of the nearly deserted library.
Bravery surged up in her time of distress. "What do you want with me...Loki?" She couldn't believe that she had needed to utter that phrase. Never in her life should she have had to say that.
He appeared to relish the use of his name, rolling off of her nearly trembling lips. "I want to speak with your master, pet."
Her eyes narrowed. "What do mean?" She was truly bewildered.
"Don't play with me, girl." His smile remained while his eyes hardened.
Not wanting to offend him, or sink herself further into trouble, Sarah stared, saying nothing.
"The Goblin King, you are trying my admittedly short patience with your stupidity."
Sarah nearly laughed, although her situation was more desperate than funny.
"Why do you think that I could get you an audience with him?" I will not say his name.
"You reek of his magic, not that I owe you an explanation."
"Oh, dear." Sarah's head sank into her hands. She could barely control a fit of hysteric giggles. If my life depends on the goodwill of the Goblin King, I am most assuredly doomed.
"That's just not fair." She mourned.
This is an odd little story that popped into my head this afternoon. Let me know whether or not you would like to bored further. ;) And, as always, thanks for reading.