Notes: Okay, folks, new plan. You may have noticed that I try to keep all chapters within any given story to around the same length. This one has had relatively long chapters, because I do try to check in with both realities as we go along. For various real-life reasons, I may have less time and energy to write in the next few weeks. So the new plan is to write shorter chapters and post them on more or less the same schedule as ever, rather than longer chapters at much longer intervals. We'll see how that goes.
Also, apologies that this is another transitional chapter. It's necessary to get to the next bit.
Warnings: None needed.
Chapter Twenty-One
There was no going back to sleep after a pitched magical battle in the street, and so none of the members of the household tried. At the same time, no one seemed anxious to repair to their sanctuary in the kitchen: apparently, the darkness at the foot of the stairs held no allure at the moment. George's bedchamber was the closest to where they all stood, and that was where they all retreated. George smoothed the coverlet on his narrow bed and they all sat together, a motley-looking collection of beings in sleepwear- or undergarments- and dressing gowns, except for Annie in her gray sweater and black leggings, sitting tailor-fashion up by the pillows.
For some time no one spoke. Scamp the dog snuggled into Annie's lap, then the two little black-and-white cats appeared from somewhere and took up station between George and Loki. Despite being quite sure their choice was made on the basis of who in the group possessed body heat, Loki found the gesture somehow comforting.
Mitchell, meanwhile, had sat upon a book with a bright paper cover, and leaned over Loki to place it on the bedside table. Men At Arms was its title, which seemed a strange tome for George to be reading. However, on closer inspection it did not seem to be a treatise on soldiering. Its cover depicted strange, mutated beings in outlandish armour, and beneath the title was the smaller legend, A Discworld Novel.
Novel was, of course, a word known to Loki, but only as a descriptor. Novel what?
George caught Loki peering, and smiled tiredly. "I was just rereading that. You're welcome to borrow it, if you want to."
Loki had not in fact been wanting any such thing, but the offer to lend the book was attractive on its own terms. He nodded, then slipped the fat little text into a pocket of his dressing-gown.
"So," Mitchell said finally. "That was Dr. Doom."
"Who do you suppose were the two guys with him?" George asked. "Wyndham for one, I guess."
Mitchell shrugged. "Must have been, although I didn't get a good look at either of them. The other one- I suppose a few of the vampires still think Herrick had the right idea and are willing to throw in with Doom no matter what Ivan says. And besides, if Ivan's out of the picture it's possible some of them will just gravitate toward whoever seems to be in charge." Catching sight of Loki's doubtful- and perhaps disapproving- expression, Mitchell shrugged. "I know, I know: they think they're so superior to humans, and yet they allow themselves to be led. The important word is think. They see humans as… insects, or something. Insignificant. That's probably one of the reasons they've never managed to pull off any of their grand schemes, when you think of it: they keep underestimating the humans, and the humans keep surprising them."
Loki's breath caught in his chest.
You will draw and hold the attention of their defenders, make them concentrate their efforts and their anger on you and your troops, leaving the Tesseract to us.
A decoy. Once prince- once king- of Asgard, and reduced to nothing but a decoy, a goat tied to a stake. He had told them as much, told the arrogant Stark ("…you've managed to piss off every single one of them" "That was the plan") and the braggart had missed the hint entirely, had taken the showy advance troops for the real threat.
And yet, despite giving every appearance of believing the army was truly Loki's and under Loki's control- despite his best efforts to hold their attention, to focus their ire on him and only him-
Despite all that, the humans- not Thor, not the prince who should have learned tactics in his long life as a warlord, but the humans- had managed to find ways to subvert the Tesseract's power, to destroy the mother ship and the main army with it, to close the portal.
They had not, of course, captured the real leader of the attack, but that was immaterial: the figurehead would do just as well in terms of punishment. And with the portal closed, a new way would have to be found to come through if the Other and his master still wished it, and that might take centuries. Even with the connection between their minds broken, and the control with it, Loki knew this was a significant defeat for his erstwhile masters. And with the Tesseract now removed from Midgard, there was little reason for their further interest in the realm.
The humans had won. The Other, and whoever had pulled the Other's strings- Loki had known there was a power behind him, even writhing in agony with his mind disintegrating he had been aware of that much- had underestimated them, and so had been defeated. It was not at all difficult to imagine the vampires making the same error in judgement.
"Loki?" George's voice was high-pitched, the way it became when he felt anxious. Loki blinked, glanced around to see three worried faces- four, if you counted the dog- looking at him. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, of course," he replied dismissively. He took a quick breath, exhaled through his nose, and turned to Mitchell. "So these vampires believe themselves a superior race, and yet willingly fall behind those who claim leadership, is that so?" Mitchell might speak as though this was unexpected, but the example of his- of Thor, and Thor's boon companions who rushed headlong into folly at his heels, had left Loki perfectly able to believe that both supreme arrogance and subservience might exist within the same being.
"Some of them will," Mitchell agreed. "I very much doubt all of them, or even necessarily very many, will join Doom." At Loki's raised eyebrow, the vampire shrugged. "I don't know what your Asgard is like, but the one we know is a place that values the open charge into battle. Vampires aren't like that. We've mostly been solitary predators- it's not normal for us to group together, we're not team players by nature, and we've always been outnumbered. Over the centuries, we've developed the habit of stealth, and it's a hard one to get over. I expect a lot of the local vampires will quietly drop out of sight until things are settled one way or the other. Especially since, unlike Herrick, Wyndham won't necessarily know where to find everyone before they get out of town."
Loki considered. His- Thor- would sneer at such a course of action, but Loki was hardly inclined to see prudence as a flaw.
Particularly not when it worked to his own benefit.
Mitchell went on, "That, of course, doesn't mean we're not in a load of trouble. Now that Doom's had a look at the rhino charm I'm sure he's already working on how to get around it, so there's no guarantee it'll work again. And Doom's also tangled with the Avengers and some of the other superheroes of this realm- and fought them to a draw- without allies. I'm a little concerned about what might happen if he brings in his Doombots, and all."
Loki had no idea whatsoever what a Doombot might be, but he had little difficulty believing it was something he would prefer not to meet in his present condition.
Before he, or any of the others, could think of anything else to say, from downstairs there came a knocking at the door.
Annie shrieked and clutched at Loki before she remembered he was the wrong one. Even at that, she did not release his arm. Meanwhile, George and Mitchell did not quite cling to one another, but it was a very near thing.
"Who's that?" George squeaked, a piece of idiocy the others managed to ignore.
"I don't know," Mitchell retorted. "You should go see."
"Me?" George very nearly shrieked. "Why should I go?"
"Because- because- " Mitchell seemed for once at a loss for words.
The knock was repeated. Loki- who after all had reason to believe that, whatever was at the door, he had experienced a great deal worse- did not scream, but he was the only one of them who refrained.
Scamp wriggled impatiently, then jumped off Annie's lap and hurried out the door, her plumy tail wagging. The two little cats trotted after her. A moment later, they could hear Scamp barking at the door.
Only barking, mind. Not baying, or snarling, or in any way sounding like the guardian of some pit of hellfire. Her voice was that of a small, excited dog, yapping and occasionally letting out a whine or snuffle as though she was applying her nose to the bottom of the door. There was no sound from the little cats, but they had run after the dog. Since their usual inclination when alarmed seemed to be to dart underneath the nearest large item of furniture, it appeared they were not frightened.
"That can't be a vampire," George stated the obvious.
"It must be someone she knows," Annie added, releasing Loki and scrambling to her feet. Recognizing her intent, Loki also stood, and the other two with him. The fat little book in his dressing gown pocket bumped against Loki's hip as he followed them down the stairs to the front entrance.
Scamp was by now dancing on her hind legs, scratching silently at the door with her ghostly paws, while the two little cats paraded back and forth, tails in the air. George picked up the cats to prevent them dashing out the door, and Mitchell opened it.
"Hi!" he exclaimed in pleasure, and stepped back to reveal three figures standing in the entrance.
Loki, still in the stairwell, gripped the banister in sudden, inexplicable panic.
"Good morning," boomed Thor, but it was not Thor whose presence was causing him such unease.
"Nice to see you again," said a slender, dark-haired man in sober garb, as he stepped forward with Thor.
"And we're really glad to see you," Mitchell replied, holding out a hand in welcome.
Loki realized he was still holding the banister as if he would tear it from the wall, and forced his hand to open. Down below, Mitchell and the others were ushering the new arrivals into the room they called the lounge. The two little cats hurried after them, pouncing at Thor's cape as though it was an established game.
Scamp turned as though to follow- and certainly she was generally Annie's shadow- but then paused at the foot of the stairs to look up at Loki. Her ears flattened in an uneasy gesture and her tail was held low as she wagged it. It looked as though the little creature was trying to offer him comfort.
Loki exhaled carefully through his nose, and came carefully down the stairs.
~oOo~
It was, of course, no coincidence that had Thor arrive on the doorstep at the same moment as Agent Coulson. It was to be unexpected, since they had traveled part of the way together: Heimdall, seeing the agent arrive in London, where he reported to SHIELD, had sent Thor to meet him. The benefit of arriving by Bifrost in such a large city as London was that, as in New York, there were already so many strange things happening that a little matter such as a whirlwind of light could go almost unnoticed.
Having made his whereabouts known to SHIELD's London office (he was nothing if not punctilious, and of course having been made to disappear once, he was perhaps more than ever inclined to be careful) Coulson acquired a car from the agency. He was, unsurprisingly, quite as comfortable driving in England as America.
As they sped toward Bristol, Thor told the others what he had learned in Asgard.
"I would have preferred to leave these wretched things to be smelted down into platters," Thor said, indicating the sack of iron at his feet, "but my mother felt certain- "
"Your mother is quite right," Strange assured him, as he studied the closely-written sheet of parchment Thor had given him. "It certainly appears this spell will work as she suggests. Particularly on a site of power, with the aid of the witches Coulson has referred to."
"And is there a site of power available to you?" Thor asked.
"Glastonbury Tor, I'm guessing," Agent Coulson suggested. In the back seat, Dr. Strange smiled.
"Very good, Agent Coulson. If we can get there by dawn, that will be even better."
"I hope your friends the witches are early risers," Coulson remarked to Thor.
Thor smiled. "As do I." The smile faded as he added, "You asked me to… make inquiries of my father. About the cleansing spell on my brother."
"Yes?"
As completely as possible, Thor related all his father had told him of the spell and its effects. Coulson, his eyes scrupulously on the road before him, nodded occasionally but gave no sign of surprise. When the story was told, Thor remarked on the fact.
"You knew what my answer would be," he said.
Coulson shrugged. "I suspected. I did figure, based on things he's said about the circumstances of his… adoption… and your early childhood, that he probably got angry at a pretty young age. Certainly the way he behaved during his psychotic break suggested there was more than three days' worth of anger at work, and of course if that was true it had to be all tangled up in everything else about him. The rest of it- "
"You really do watch the television program about the nanny who rescues families, do you not?" Thor said. "That is not a jest."
Coulson smiled briefly. "I find it very interesting, how many issues raised on that show can be applied to adults as well. Anyway, though, just observing your brother, especially since the Dire Wraith thing… particularly the ways he relates to you... It made me wonder." Coulson glanced at Thor sideways, although the interior of the car was so dark it was impossible to see his expression. "It's not just me. You've probably noticed that most of the time Stark treats Loki like his little brother."
Thor said nothing. On its face, of course, the whole thing was ridiculous: his brother was nearly a thousand Midgardian years old, and neither Coulson nor Stark could be as much as fifty. That being said, however, even Thor was aware of occasions when he turned to these humans, or to Erik Selvig, for advice or counsel.
Coulson, his eyes firmly fixed on the dark road before him, went on quietly,
"Your brother is a real asset to the Avengers. But that not's the only reason we're anxious to get him back."
Thor nodded, and the rest of the trip to Bristol was accomplished in silence.
Coulson had visited Loki's home on at least two occasions, and so he knew the neighbourhood. Rather than pulling up Windsor Terrace, he parked in a public space on the nearest edge of Victoria Park and consulted the time on his cell phone.
"We made better time than I expected," he noted. "I feel a bit bad about waking them up at this hour, but if we're going to get to Glastonbury Tor by sunrise- "
"I feel sure they will forgive us," Thor murmured, as he let himself out of the passenger door of the car. The three walked around the corner and up the hill toward the little house at the top of the terrace.
"Ugh," Strange remarked suddenly, looking around with a fastidious expression and then turning to Thor. "Can you sense that?"
"Sense what?" asked Coulson, his expression becoming, if possible, even more alert. Even as he spoke, however, he rolled his shoulders uneasily. Thor, meanwhile, sniffed tentatively.
"I believe, now that you are speaking of it… ordinarily, I cannot sense magic in the way my brother does, but just now- "
Agent Coulson nodded, which should have been surprising since he was a human without magical powers. Being Agent Coulson, however, it would have surprised Thor a great deal more if he had not sensed anything.
"Whatever it is must be pretty powerful if even I can sense something," he noted.
Strange, who had stopped walking, nodded. "It certainly is that."
"My brother has laid enchantments around the city," Thor explained, watching the human sorcerer closely. "I believe those near his home are very powerful. Could that be what you are sensing?"
"I didn't notice anything the last time I was here," Coulson noted. "Do you know if he's strengthened them recently?"
"If he did, he did not tell me so," Thor admitted.
Strange resumed walking briskly up the terrace. "That being the case, we may surmise that what we are sensing is the result of these enchantments being triggered. Which means we have little time to waste."
Thor had a reputation for being fearless, but the sensation in his chest as he knocked upon the front door of his brother's home was rather as though he had run the whole distance from London. The pounding in his ears worsened when there was no response. Reminding himself of the lateness of the hour did nothing to reassure him: considering the nature of Loki's protective enchantments, one would expect the household had been awakened and would probably still be on the alert.
He knocked again, restraining himself with difficulty from simply removing the door from its hinges. Finally, to his relief, he heard the welcoming voice of the little ghost dog who guarded the home from the inside. A moment later, the door opened to reveal a relieved-looking Mitchell.
"Hi!" he exclaimed, and ushered them inside.
~oOo~
Under some circumstances, the story of what Mitchell persistently referred to as the "rhinoceros firefight" might have been very amusing. These were not those circumstances.
"The rhinos saw him off this time," Mitchell wrapped up his story, "but they were originally intended to guard against supernatural beings who don't have magic of their own. We're worried that Doom's going to be able to work out a way around the spell. Without our- with one Loki missing," he corrected himself smoothly, without glancing at the rigid figure at the far end of the sofa, "and the other one's powers at a pretty low ebb right now, we don't have anyone who can adapt the spell to stay ahead of him."
Thor cast a quick glance at Loki's mask-like face, trying very hard not to remember his brother wearing that same expression.
"Perhaps Dr. Strange can assist," he suggested.
"I think the best thing to do is get you all out of here," Coulson spoke up. "Doom's not stupid, and he's very determined. I wouldn't put it past him to level the street to get at you."
The three housemates exchanged looks of distress, including Loki apparently out of habit, since he gave no sign of interest. Although, of course, when Thor's brother wore that expression, it generally indicated a great deal more going on under the surface than he was willing to show.
Dr. Strange looked around with an expression of calm interest. "The idea is worth considering. You should do so. And now, perhaps, we should contact your friends the witches."
~oOo~
The first light of dawn was just beginning to paint a faint pink on the horizon, behind the ruined tower that was all that was left of an ancient church. Dr. Strange and the two witches- who had turned up looking remarkably alert, considering the hour- were engulfed in a warm golden light that somehow did not cast their shadows on the dew-wet grass of the Tor.
Loki, sitting with the housemates, looked on with something like longing. His own powers were still dormant within him, not so much bound as still recovering, and he would have given a great deal- if he had it- for even the wretched sceptre that had tied him to the voice of the Other, but had permitted him the use of a little limited magic-
The golden light faded, and Dr. Strange was walking back toward the spectators.
"We've located him," he said calmly. Loki felt his chest constrict, not least because of the little gasp of relief Annie uttered at the words. Strange smiled faintly at her, then turned to the dark-haired man whose name was Coulson. "We can open a portal, but for safety's sake it won't be possible to leave it open. The best option is to send some sort of amulet with you, that you can use to open it again once you've got him back. I'll ensure it comes out in a safe place. All right?"
Coulson nodded. "All right."
"You should not go alone," Thor suggested.
"No, probably not," Coulson agreed. "But, Thor, I don't think you're the best choice to go. I have a feeling the less attention we call in the other reality, the better."
"Calls for stealth, you mean?" Mitchell asked, from where he sat on the damp grass.
"That seems to make sense."
Mitchell nodded. "Right. Well, then, I think I'm the vampire for the job."
Coulson's smile was a few degrees warmer as he nodded. "Good idea."