Loki sat up. Directly in his line of sight was the orb, sitting on his dresser. Loki forgot about that first disturbing dream, but its imagery and meaning came flooding back to him. She'd turned Maywood's magic sphere, meant to bless him with wealth and happiness into a snare.
"Good for you." He said to the orb. He hoped that wherever Lord Maywood was, he was suffering in torment. He got out of bed and picked up the orb to inspect the bones within.
"How many children are in this thing?" Loki wondered aloud. He thinks he saw seven children playing in the field. He'll have to pay attention the next time he sees them. Seven would make sense. There are seven large mirrors upstairs, and seven is supposedly a magical number for some reason.
It occurred to Loki then that Thor had gotten caught up in this snare somehow and needed help breaking free. He debated for a moment which course of action to take. Should he burry the orb like a coffin, hold a small funeral perhaps? Should he try to break it open? Or should he have a priest come and bless the house?
Loki looked at the orb and decided to break it open. The glass cap was sealed tight is melted gold. Loki picked it up, feeling the weight of it.
"Well, if gravity can break a Christmas ornament it can break this." He spiked the orb like a football, attempting to smash it on the floor, but it bounced. It bounced like a damn beach ball.
"Okay. I see how it's going to be." Loki took the orb upstairs to the kitchen. He pulled out a serated bread knife and sawed at the gold seal. The knife bent like aluminum.
"Okay. Now I'm mad." He threw it against the floor again and watched it make a high arc back into the air, bouncing down the hallway as if to give Loki the middle finger.
"Fire then. Fire kills everything." Loki went into the library and started a fire in the fireplace. When the flame was large and standing near it made Loki uncomfortable, he picked up the orb again and tossed it into the fireplace. The whole house groaned and the lights dimmed. Loki was shoved backwards by an invisible force and orb jumped out of the fire and rolled on the floor leaving a small trail of flames in its wake. Loki quickly stomped on them to put them out.
The knob on the front door clicked and Jenny let herself in. Alarmed by the smell of smoke she raced down the hall, following her nose.
"Loki?"
"Loki?" She rounded the corner, finding Loki cursing a blue streak and kicking the orb back towards the fireplace. He looked up at her, scandalized.
"What are you doing?"
"I ah…dropped this damn thing and it fell into the fire and then it rolled back out and I nearly burned the house down."
"Good job. Way to go." She walked into the library and picked up the orb. It was cool to the touch but covered with soot and ash. She walked out of the room with it towards the kitchen with Loki trailing behind her. She grabbed a kitchen towel and some Windex and in seconds it was good as new, not a scratch on the damn thing.
"There. All better." She handed it back to him.
"Thank you. I'll go put this away now." He turned to go down the basement stairs.
"So what am I doing today boss?"
"Dust all the upstairs rooms and air them out. Vacuum the whole house and inventory the bed linen."
"Okie Dokie." She gave Loki an amused look and set about her business.
Loki got back downstairs to his apartment and put the orb back in its cradle.
"This isn't over." Loki said to it.
XxXxXxXxXx
After attempting to crush the orb, melt the orb, freeze it, and then taking a blowtorch to the damn thing Loki threw his hands up in frustration. The orb is indestructible. Clearly it will take something more than mere physical mishandling to destroy it. He considered contacting Reverend McDowell but decided he needed to hire the big guns and contacted St. Vincent's Catholic Church 45 minutes away in Ashleyville. Loki spoke with a very nice man, Father Sheldon, and invited him to come dinner and bless the house the following evening.
When Father Sheldon arrived Loki opened the door to greet the man. He was tall and skinny and his white hair and liver spots advertised his age. Though his wrinkled hand looked fragile it still possessed the iron grip of a construction worker. He smiled a gleaming white line of perfect manufactured teeth at Loki.
"Thank you Father for coming on such short notice."
"Thank you for inviting me to dinner and to this very grand home of yours." He said. Loki offered the man his arm for balance as they walked up the porch steps into the home.
"Why, I must say, they don't make 'em like this anymore."
"No Father they sure don't."
"I hope I brought enough holy water." He muttered.
"Well, if not we can substitute it with some fire water. Care for a glass of wine?"
"I would love that. Thank you." Father Sheldon chuckled. He looked Loki up and down. It warmed his heart to see a young man like him still embracing the faith. Too many bad priests and too many scandals had thinned the flock.
"You are awfully young to be living in this big place all alone."
"Ah yes well I'm not always alone. I've turned this house into a bed and breakfast, but we've entered the slow season. Plus I've only been open a couple of months and things are still getting off the ground."
"Is that pot roast I smell?"
"Yes Father. Ah Julia Child's Beef Bourguignon recipe specifically."
"Ah now that is divine."
"Yes it is." Loki pulled out a chair at the dinner table for the father and then went back into the kitchen to dish up dinner. He came back in a flash with two steaming plates full of beef stew piled high on top of egg noodles.
"Care to say grace?" Father Sheldon asked.
"Oh…yeah. Ehem, Thank you Father for this food, for this house, and for good friends. Amen."
"Amen. No family?"
"Ah no. I'm an orphan." Loki said and then took his first bite of the dish. He'd really outdone himself.
"Oh I'm sorry to hear that. Were you very young when it happened?"
"I was still in high school. They were murdered."
"Mmmm, this is wonderful… the food I mean." Father Sheldon tried to quickly chew down his mouthful of food.
"Thank you for the compliment. It's alright, I'm not really interested in talking about my parents anyway. I really wanted to talk about this house. Do you believe in ghosts father?"
"In a manner of speaking yes. When we pray, we are often speaking to the communion of saints, who are nothing more than righteous people that have passed on. They in turn ask god's permission to bless us or intervene on our behalf. God doesn't always say yes to everything we want obviously, but I suspect you are referring to something different. Are you of the belief that this house is haunted?"
"Is it that obvious?"
"No! Of course not! I get invitations to bless homes like this all the time." Father Sheldon kids Loki and gives him a humorful smile.
"This house is haunted father. I've seen things and bad things have happened to people here."
"People are haunted son, as you clearly are, but if it gives you peace of mind I will bless your lovely home."
"Thank you father. It means a lot to me." Loki said. They continue the meal in congenial silence, with the occasional moans of pleasure born of good food and good wine.
"I couldn't eat another bite, but you could. You're awfully skinny for being so tall."
"I could say the same about you, and I'm not that skinny. I'm just built with very compact muscles. Underneath all this fabric is the body of a sinewy god."
"Ha! I'm sure. You must be beating the ladies off with a stick then?"
"Um…not really. I've been too focused on business to give them my time actually."
"Nothing wrong with that at your age. It is good for you stake your claim in this world, but do not put off having a family for too long. A good young man like you shouldn't miss out on the joys of marriage and fatherhood."
Loki kept the truth to himself on that front and only responded with a polite. "Yes father." They rose from the table and Father Sheldon pulled his flask of holy water from his jacket.
"Where would you like me to start?"
"The library if you don't mind." Loki felt on pins and needles. He'd put the orb back on the desk in the library and hoped the father's blessing would somehow 'unmagic' it.
"Alright then. Lead the way." They took the few short steps down the hall and Father Sheldon's jaw dropped at the spectacle before him.
"My my, this must be your favorite room."
"Yes, my males guests love it too."
"And I bet the wives all hate it."
"Only some." Loki giggled. Father Sheldon looked around , ready to begin his blessing when he noticed the two urns on the fireplace.
"Son? Are there ashes in there?"
"Yes father. My parents. Their bodies were mangled beneath a train. Cremation was only practical." Loki looked down at the floor feeling guilty though he couldn't pinpoint the exact reason why. Father Sheldon grabbed him lightly on the shoulders.
"Son, you have a tomb in the middle of your house."
"I know."
"You should scatter the ashes so you can mourn properly."
"I know." Loki continued staring at his shoes.
"Tell you what, why don't we do that after I'm done blessing the house. That field of flowers across the street would be a lovely place for them."
"Okay." Loki said, if only to appease him for the moment. He'll spread their ashes, but not here. Not on this property. Father Sheldon uncorked the flask and began sprinkling the air with holy water.
"In the name of the Fat-Ah! AH!" Father Sheldon hunched over
"Father what is it?!" Loki went to his side and guided him to the nearest couch. Loki noticed that half of his body was limp. When Father Sheldon looked up, half of his face was drooping.
"Oh God! Oh god it's a stroke. Ah, ah, ah…I'll call an ambulance!" Loki fumbled for his cell phone to call 911. He stuttered his address to the emergency operator, begging her to make the paramedics hurry. Eight minutes felt like an eternity as he prayed and begged for god to let the priest live. The fire department arrived first and they stabilized him as best they could until the ambulance came 5 minutes later. Loki got into the back of the ambulance with him and they rode to the hospital together. Needles and IV's were inserted into the father's arms. Heart monitor leads were placed on his chest. Soothing words were said to calm everyone's nerves.
At the hospital Loki paced the waiting room as the doctors did their work. All the staff around Father Sheldon was busy but not necessarily panicked, until it was. Loud beeps and alarms went off inside the room. Instructions were shouted and feet scurried, then all went quiet.
"Mr. Laufeyson?" The ominous inquiry came from a bedraggled looking doctor.
"No. No please. He didn't die at my house. Please tell me he did not die at my house."
"No, he died just now. Here." The doctor said. Loki squat down and ran his fingers into his hair.
"I killed him. I invited him to dinner and he had a stroke under my roof." Loki cried, loud and ugly and full of fear.
"He's 87 years old. These things happen." The doctor put a comforting hand on Loki's left shoulder. "He's with god now."
Loki said nothing to that. He knew, deep to his bones, that this was his fault.