After leaving the hospital grounds as night began to quickly swallow the meager hours of daylight, Loki and Darcy were now seated at a table in the lounge of the old hotel where they were staying for this part of the trip. Darcy's hands were wrapped around the large tumbler of Scotch in front of her. She took a sip every few minutes, staring out the window. Her body seemed tense, her eyes foggy and far away. Then she said, ''I think I found some of those lost shamans that your mom told me about. Or, what's left of them, anyway. At the hospital, with Erik. They must have gotten snatched up by the Norns, too.'' She stared down at her muddy reflection in the glass of liqueur. ''I wonder who they think they are now—what roles they got shoved into. Poor things.''
She'd been like this since they'd left Selvig. Actually, Loki noted to himself as he observed her from across the table, Darcy had been cloaked in this haunted wariness since they'd first arrived back in Norway. It was as if she were on a boat, and he on shore, watching as she was slowly carried away from him on a currant. ''All shamans are fully aware of the dangers involved in traveling,'' he explained gently. ''They know when they fare forth there is always a chance that something will go wrong.''
''But what are they trying to do? The Norns—why are they collecting people like this? I mean, I sort of understand about us, we were a sacrifice to stop the World Tree from falling apart. But they've been doing this for a long time, apparently. The two patients at the hospital, the nurse told me that they'd been there for years. And those scientists went missing long before we ever even met.'' Darcy's voice had grown tired and grey, like an overcast sky. Again, she looked out the window and took another sip of her drink, relishing the velvety burn as it slid down her throat, the silken calm that pooled in her stomach soon after.
Some of the warmth in her aura appeared to be dulling ever so slightly. This was exactly what Loki had been trying to avoid: that look on her face as she regarded the icy Norwegian landscape, the cold that was now creeping over her like vines. It made him furious that they were again a part of this madness, the plotting and the nightmares and the snow. The god swallowed, leaned closer to Darcy. ''Whenever the Norns saw an imbalance, they went to great lengths to correct it. And build their own little world in the process. Like a doll's house. A perfect little place where everyone dresses up for their part and obeys like a puppet, following the script, never talking back. Never challenging them or asking why. I suppose, in their minds, it is a great gift.''
Darcy opened her mouth to say something, but just as she did Natasha joined them at the table.
''This isn't a three-way,'' grumbled Loki, waving her away rather meanly. ''Off you go.''
Rather than challenging him, the redhead briefly raised her eyebrows, then simply pushed back her chair, stood, and walked away towards the other side of the lounge.
''That wasn't very nice,'' observed Darcy, narrowing her eyes, her fingers clutching the tumbler of Scotch even more tightly.
''Neither is she,'' he replied succinctly, with an equal firmness to his expression. ''That woman is not your friend. She doesn't have friends—she manipulates everyone in order to get what she wants. It's all she knows how to do, all she's ever done.''
Taking a very long sip of her drink, Darcy said nothing for a moment before she set the glass down on the table, announcing, ''I'm going upstairs.'' Loki soundlessly stood and followed her along, noting the stiff, brittle edge in her movements. Exhausted, Darcy's mind buzzed with a thousand unhappy memories ringed with new confusion and fear. The inside of her head was like a hive of bees.
Once they were inside their room, Darcy sank down onto the bed, her shoulders slumping a little, as if she were slowly collapsing in on herself. Loki closed the door and sat down beside her.
''Don't help them so much,'' he warned. This was spoken a little more like an accusation than he wanted; he had meant it much more gently, but he was getting very unnerved and angry at the entire situation, at the toll it was clearly taking on her.
''Don't help them? You mean, you don't want to fix whatever's going on?'' Darcy cried in a slightly disbelieving voice.
Loki put an arm around her, softening his tone. ''I just don't want you rushing off again, headfirst into something very dangerous.'' He paused, then said, ''I spoke to Fury, and he has agreed that if we complete this ridiculous mission, then our work with SHIELD will be done, and we will be allowed to go wherever we like. So please, let's just get this over with.''
Darcy sighed loudly, scrubbed a hand over her tired face. ''Look, in order to 'get this over with' we all need to work together. I have no idea what's going on, or what we're actually looking for. I'm freaked out, and tired, but I do want to help. Because we are part of this. We might actually be the biggest part. And I'm not going to stand by and watch the universe crumble again. I'll bet you anything the Norns are looking for us; I can feel it. What if they want us back so bad that they'll turn everything inside out? Whatever door is opened, it opened to let us through, to bring us back here, and now it's our responsibility to make sure it's closed, that everyone is safe. So yes, Loki, I do want to help. I am going to help.''
''I'll help you,'' he told her pointedly. ''I will be there for you, with you, to keep you safe—just you. Not the rest of them. ''
There was now a harsh melancholy in Darcy's eyes as she stood and stared at him. ''I was once part of 'the rest of them.' What if I had been in New York during the invasion that you led? Just another casualty, just one of the 'rest of them.' A conscience isn't something you just turn on and off at your convenience, Loki. You need to understand that in order to really change.''
Darcy became aware of a very annoying feeling of static and white noise in her head. She felt off-balance, felt like a blurry photograph. This had begun on the plane and going to visit Erik had only made it worse. It was a jagged, displaced sensation, a creeping agitation. She was cold, all the time. And Loki just kept seeming farther and farther away. She didn't want to be arguing with him, but she was just so damn tired. ''I'm going for a walk. I need a minute to myself.'' Tears of confusion stinging her eyes, Darcy turned and left the room.
Loki watched her go, then remained sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment, seething and raw on the inside. He looked over, saw his reflection in the window, felt empty. She was right, he acknowledged grimly as he replayed her words in his mind. Would he have even seen her then? In his madness, his desire to overthrow, would he have even given Darcy Lewis a second glance? Would he have spared her any ounce of his rage? If she'd been in Germany, in the crowd, kneeling and fear-stricken, would he have just smirked and asked her is this not better? She was right. Loki closed his eyes, remembered something, something from a time that now seemed so long ago, before the blue light, before...in the desert. He'd sent the Destroyer to punish Thor, that one objective the only thing he cared about. All those Midgardians, running and screaming, getting in the way, they were always in the way...Darcy had been there. These were terrible thoughts, terrible memories. They hurt, felt like rusty screws lodged in his gut. Understanding always hurt this way, if it was real.
''Alright,'' said the god decisively, aloud to the empty room. He was going to see this through for Darcy's sake, because he certainly owed her at least that much. He'd be helpful, and compliant—he'd even be nice to the Romanov woman, though trusting her was still another matter entirely. But first, he needed to fix whatever was going on with Darcy. There was something haunting her. To the naked eye, it might have simply been jet lag, combined with the trauma of their recent ordeal, compounded obviously by seeing Erik's condition, which no doubt dredged up horrible memories of her mother. Yes, all of these things could definitely be a factor—but Loki could see Darcy in a different way than most, and knew that there was something more. It was a kind of invisible, amorphous shadow, following and draining her, yanking on the threads of her aura. This was what was causing glitches in the connection between them. It was something about this land, it was like a dead-zone, dulling all of the signals, pulling down the defenses. Waiting.
He reached into the drawer of the nightstand beside the bed, removed the book he'd been studying so thoroughly. Loki flipped through the pages and read the incantation over and over until he was certain that he had it right, then returned the book to the drawer. He was, by his very nature, a shapeshifter. That part of the myths about him was mostly correct, except for the bit about the horse. Loki was actually rather offended by that; Darcy had thought it was absolutely hilarious. This time, though, he wasn't going to be shifting so much as cloaking, or hiding. At their core, shapeshifting and invisibility operated under the same sort of principles. Invisibility was more difficult, because it took the process a step further. In order to achieve true invisibility, one needed to be able to not only affect the perception of others, but actually create a kind of minimal dimensional pocket to wrap around oneself like a cloak. This took quite a bit of ability, was hard to maintain for extended periods of time. Loki, however, had this part down—he would simply be taking it a step further. If there was something insidious slipping about, trying to get to Darcy, once he was invisible he would be able to see it more clearly—because it probably existed outside of the realm of ordinary perception.
He closed his eyes, focused deeply, silently reciting the proper words until a strange tugging sensation in his solar plexus let him know that the spell was working. Then came an eerie feeling of pins and needles raking over his skin and a quick but rather intense lightheadedness and depersonalization. He felt like a fish flopping itself onto the beach, then finding that it could actually breathe, albeit uncomfortably. Loki opened his eyes, let them adjust to find that everything had now taken on a shifting, shimmering cast.
Opening the door, he walked out into the hallway. He passed a few people, both of them obviously oblivious to his presence, their auras standing out from their bodies in varying hues and levels of brightness.
He headed down into the lounge, looked around until he spotted her standing by the window, staring out at the lights and the shadows on the snow. The lounge was mostly empty except for a few people at a table in the far corner. There was also a man sitting at the bar, nursing a drink. He stared leeringly over at Darcy, his glassy eyes roving over her curves. As Loki passed by, unseen, he swiftly and unceremoniously knocked the man's drink off of the bar and into his lap, smiling as he yelped and jumped to his feet.
Though there was a pleasant fire glowing in the stone fireplace, Darcy still felt drenched in an inexplicable chill. She took yet another sip of Scotch, hoping that it would keep her warm. Then suddenly, she felt became absolutely certain that Loki was there with her. Blinking, she turned around, scanning the room for a sign. There was nothing, but yet… After a moment she felt fingers brush the back of her neck, trail down her arm, the touch unmistakeable.
Yes, without a doubt, it was Loki. Just..invisible, somehow. Darcy almost laughed. ''Hey,'' she hissed. ''No fair! How are you doing that?''
Now came a cool, low breath against her skin. ''Love, you know I rarely play fair,'' he responded, and something in his phantom voice sent a not-unpleasant chill washing over her. The cloud of static in Darcy's head began to dissipate, just a little.
Loki couldn't tell where exactly the shadow had come from, he assumed it was something that had slipped between the cracks of this doorway that had been created. Otherworldly things tended to cling to other otherworldly things. It could be as simple as a lost discarnate spirit wanting something to latch onto for sustenance, sensing the glow of her aura and deciding to have a feast. Or, it could be something more insidious, purposefully sent slipping through the door in order to drain her and pull her away from him. Either way, it had to go. He had no time for shadows, particularly ones that threatened the thing he held most dear. Loki set extra psychic defences up around her aura, putting several strong runes in place for protection.
''No, really, how are you doing that?'' Darcy asked him again. The fabric of her shirt shifted as he wrapped his arms around her waist, rested his head on her shoulder. ''I told you, I've been learning all about hiding things,'' Loki replied.
''Are you still angry with me?'' he asked quietly. ''I understand if you are.''
Darcy sighed. ''I was just frustrated. I'm...I was scared and confused. I know that you were just trying to look out for me.''
''Will you come back upstairs with me?'' The request was issued in that low voice that made heat collect under her skin. She nodded, turned. To anyone else who may have been watching, she walked alone. Once they were back in their room with the door safely closed, Darcy expected Loki to materialize. He didn't. Instead there came his hands on her again, working to pull her shirt over her head. His lips fastened against her throat, sucking at the skin there as he pulled her to him. Darcy let out a slight moan, wondering how strange she must look at the moment. Loki may have been invisible, but he was solid. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him with her as she settled herself on the bed.
Little fading marks dotted the skin of her neck where he marked her, which Loki found unspeakably erotic. Darcy couldn't see him, but she seemed to know exactly where he was. ''Trust me,'' he whispered to her. She nodded quickly. ''I do, I do trust you.'' Her voice came in a quick breath, almost a gasp.
It felt so strange to be able to touch him, feel him, smell him, but not see him. During moments like this she'd gotten so used to studying the look in Loki's eyes, the changing expressions that would flicker over his face. Darcy quickly discarded the rest of her clothes, felt his fingers begin a slow ascent up her leg. Closing her eyes, she opened her mind to Loki, felt the connection ignite again. She let him surround her.
Hooking a finger around the lace, he pulled her underwear down and off, leaving her completely naked, open. Trying to shut the world out, Darcy concentrated fully on the the tingling in her skin, the heat low in her belly. She felt Loki shift on the bed, felt his fingers on her knee, gently pushing her legs open. A dark sigh, a breath, that lovely, brief shock of cold as his fingers found her entrance, plunging inside greedily.
Tears came to her eyes, Darcy couldn't fight it. All of her pent-up emotion was suddenly releasing in a flood. It was as though she'd somehow been blocked from herself, like a tight band had been wrapped around one of her limbs, numbing it til it was cold, foreign, starved. And then she was freed, then came the rush of blood, the pins and needles, the relief. The clouds in her mind were finally scattered, shaken away like ash. ''There you are,'' she thought she heard Loki whisper. He reluctantly stopped stroking her, dragged his fingers away.
She was back, Loki could see that the shadows around her aura had been successfully cast away. The warm colors returned; again Darcy glowed from the inside out. It hadn't been that long, relatively speaking, less than two days since they'd last made love but it felt like years. He'd almost forgotten how much they both needed this particular level of connection. Loki gripped her knees, moved them apart and let his head fall between her legs, suddenly desperate for the taste of her. She moaned, shifted her hips, gripped at his hair. In the state she was in, this wouldn't take long. He studied the changes in Darcy's energetic field while he worked at her with his tongue. She was practically about to leap out of her body. Excellent. Loki pulled away, right as she was about to go over the edge. Predictably, she shrieked something unintelligible and tried to punch him in the shoulder.
He almost laughed, then took hold of her again, using Darcy's contained energy to cause a shift in the dimensional fold around himself, allowing him to pull her through to where he was.
She was about to kill him. She both loved and hated when he teased her but today Darcy especially hated it because she really, really needed this. Suddenly, she was swarmed by a spacey, flip-flopping sensation accompanied by a momentary numbness. Great, she grumbled to Loki through their connected minds, you made me have a stroke. I hope you're happy! And then she could suddenly see him, tousled hair and evil smirk, about to laugh. Darcy's first thought was that he had finally materialized, but after looking around she soon determined that to not be the case at all. The room around them seemed alight with a blurry shimmer, slightly distorted and foggy, though they were both sharply clear and visible to one another. ''Got you,'' he said, licking his lips.
''What's going on now?'' demanded Darcy, with no small amount of exasperation in her tone.
''Well, now you're hidden, too,'' the god replied, seeming rather proud of himself.
''Hidden? You mean that I am now also invisible?'' Oh, this was too weird. She really should have expected it. Sex with Loki just kept getting stranger and stranger.
He nodded. ''It might be very useful.''
''Useful for what? If we're feeling particularly amorous in a public place?'' Darcy rolled her eyes.
''Not exactly. I was thinking more along the lines of general protection. Be honest with me, you know something's a bit amok around here. There's some kind of...shadow hanging around. I saw it, it's been clinging to you, attempting to drain your energy. It was slowly dulling the connection between us, trying to weaken us again.''
''I knew I didn't feel right. Damn it. Where did it come from?'' Darcy asked, leaning back, propping her hands behind her head, the pose unmistakeably sensual and inviting. ''And what exactly is it? 'Shadow' is kind've a vague term.''
''I'm not sure yet,'' admitted Loki, letting himself stare, admire her. ''But now that I can see it, I can block it from getting to you. Do you see where we are now, how everything looks different?'' Darcy nodded. ''We're inside a kind of temporary fold in space and time. Nothing fancy, and we can't maintain it for very long. But in this state we can see things outside the realm of normal perception, though they can't see us.''
''Are you sure they can't see us—these, um, shadows and whatnot?''
Loki shook his head. ''They can't. All they might see is a slight shift occurring in the dimensional fabric, but beyond that, nothing.''
''So this is like, our fort under a table?'' She smiled at him so sweetly that his heart ached.
''Exactly like that, yes.''
Darcy pulled him down against her, so that his lips were a breath away from hers. ''Please make sure it doesn't get me,'' she whispered. ''I didn't like feeling that way. The worst part was feeling cut off from you. I...I really hate that.''
''I promised once to keep you safe, and I intend to keep that promise for as long as we're both breathing. I'll teach you all about wards and binding and cloaking spells and protection spells. You've already shown so much natural ability, I can't wait to see what you can become. Oh, Darcy, the things I'm going to teach you,'' Loki said, eyes darkening now with desire, and she shivered at the promise there as he brought his mouth down against hers.
The next morning they woke early to darkness still outside the windows; today they were going to head out to follow up on the lead Erik had given them, the seer. It was quite a distance, she really did live out in the middle of nowhere, apparently, but along the way they would be stopping to visit some of the runestones that Selvig had also spoken of.
Darcy was in a rather great mood when she got dressed, feeling newly invigorated. She hadn't realized how sick and drained that shadow had been making her. Though learning about it had obviously made her rather uneasy, once again she felt better now that she knew something was out to get her. Now she could be aware. She and Loki met Natasha in the hotel lobby, the redhead was holding two cups of coffee, she kept one for herself and handed the other to Darcy. ''We're going to need this today, I think,'' she said, and Darcy could tell that the Black Widow wasn't exactly looking forward to scouring miles and miles of cold terrain for old Viking stones, either.
Darcy gratefully accepted the warm drink and took a sip. Loki sighed inwardly, then looked over at Natasha. ''I wanted to apologize for the way I spoke to you last night,'' he offered, trying to really feel it, desperately clamouring for true sincerity. ''It was very rude of me. You've...been a good friend to Darcy, and I appreciate that.''
Natasha looked rather surprised at this apology, she glanced quickly over at Darcy, who simply shrugged and smiled, and then back to Loki. ''I...thank you, Loki. It's alright. These are...difficult times. We're all still a little on edge.''
''Now let's go find some rocks!'' Darcy chimed in gleefully. ''Gonna be a rockin' good time. Maybe we'll get stoned...''
Loki groaned. ''Do please shut up, love.''
''Ok, no more, I promise.''
They took a car as far as the road would allow them, then went on foot. The sky was now a deepening grey, there were only a precious few fading hours of daylight at this time of the year.
''Erik was right, there's so many of these damn standing stones everywhere,'' Darcy said, scowling down at the map on her tablet. ''How are we supposed to know which ones are like...special?''
''Before we left the hospital, Selvig managed to share some of his more...coherent notes with me,'' Natasha replied. ''There's at least two specific runestones that he felt noted some further investigation, they're only a mile or so from here.''
Darcy found herself actually enjoying the walk, though she had to admit that there was something old and unsettling about the land. It seemed to have far too many memories, and not enough people to reveal them to. That feeling only began to grow stronger as they walked on. Inexplicably, Darcy found herself wanting to cry. ''There it is,'' Natasha said, pointing to a thin stone, about three and a half feet high, covered in runic markings. They stopped and stood a moment. Darcy looked over at Loki, who was staring off at the horizon, lost in thought.
So cold and lovely he was, his hair in dark slashes tossed across pale skin by the bitter wind. Her breath caught in her throat a little. He looked somehow as though he belonged there, lonely and beautiful, the ruler of an endless, icy landscape. Is that what a king looks like?wondered Darcy as a delicious shiver flooded her from head to toe. For half a moment she thought she saw a flash of dark blue on his skin, the blink of a bright red eye, and then it was over and the god seemed to shrink.
''So, what is it supposed to do?'' wondered Darcy, trying to return her attentions to the matter at hand. She moved over to the rock, crouching down to get a closer look. ''It doesn't say anything important, it's just a memorial stone.''
''You can read that?'' Natasha asked, with mild surprise lacing her voice.
''I, uh, yeah, Loki taught me,'' Darcy replied with what she hoped was a casual shrug. ''There's...something wrong with it, though,'' she noted, peering closely. It was difficult to explain exactly how she knew this, that there was more to this unassuming runestone. It made her eyes want to cross, made her feel as though she were seeing double.
It's cloaked, came Loki's warning voice in her head. Please be very careful.
''I can see it,'' whispered Darcy, almost to herself. ''It keeps shifting.''
A weird sound came, like a crack of thunder, a very quick flash of bright blue, the briefest hint of a sound, a screaming. Darcy fell back, scrambling away, crablike. Her gloved hands scraped against the rocks and ice. ''There's something there,'' she pointed to the stone, trying to steady the shaking of her hand. ''That one.''
Loki and Natasha helped to pull Darcy to her feet. ''We don't have much light left,'' said the Black Widow, frowning. ''So let's go and visit this seer. Her cabin is less than a mile. We can ask her if she knows anything about that...particular stone.''
The sky was almost completely black by the time that the three arrived at a surprisingly large wooden house. Smoke billowed out from a chimney, immediately disappearing into the dark sky. Natasha approached the door first, knocking several times.
After a moment, it was opened by a very tiny old woman, only about five feet tall, dressed in a long wool skirt, sweater and shawl. Her face had a odd youthfulness about it despite her age; her dark eyes were clear, deep and perceptive. Before Natasha could even say anything, the woman stepped back and waved them inside, as if they'd been expected. The interior of her cabin was surprisingly warm and cozy, a fire roared in the corner fireplace, various furs hung over the windows and walls to keep the heat in.
''It will be dark soon,'' the woman spoke in English, through a heavy accent. ''You should be more careful this time of the year.'' She shut the door and latched it, then turned. Standing back a bit, she folded her hands, looked at the three of them. Then a smile split her face and she laughed, a rich, cheery cackle. The sound bounced off of the cabin walls. The old seer crossed the room and stood in front of Loki. He mentally prepared himself for some sort of slap or harsh reprimand. Instead, she reached up and rested a hand gently against his face, saying something in the Old Language. Then she smiled and moved over to Darcy, taking her hand and patting it fondly. She looked happy to see them. ''All of you will stay here tonight,'' announced their host. ''There is much to speak about.''
''What did she say to you?'' Darcy asked Loki quietly as they sat by the fire. She was wrapped in a blanket, the top buttons on his shirt were undone. Natasha and the old woman were sitting at a table, the Black Widow was pointing to a photograph and asking questions in a very rich and interesting language that Darcy didn't understand but was somehow very comfortable and familiar. The words crawled along the walls around her, wove themselves into the woodwork and the shadows, the rich smell of smoke and snow. ''She said that I looked exactly the way she always expected me to,'' Loki replied. ''Apparently a lot of people think I have red hair or something. Some call me a fire spirit, if you can believe that.'' He rolled his eyes.
Darcy looked at the leaping, crackling flames, then at the shadows playing over Loki's face, obscuring his expression. ''I can. Beautiful, powerful, and potentially very, very dangerous—yeah, I can see how they made the connection.'' She smiled, scooted a little closer to him. ''So she knows who you are, I take it.''
Loki nodded. ''Oh yes. This woman is a powerful seidkona, not someone to be taken lightly. She's probably taken hundreds of journeys through the realms. She's a healer as well, see there,'' the god gestured to several wooden shelves along the wall, full of jars of various plants and bottles of strange liquids. ''Probably a very skilled herbalist.'' He seemed impressed.
''See,'' Darcy nudged him playfully. ''Not all Midgardians are useless.''
''What do you remember about that day in the desert?'' he asked her after a moment of silence and breath and firelight. ''When the Destroyer attacked Thor?''
She gave him a lopsided look, maybe a smile, but not exactly. ''Loki, I know it was you. I know you sent that thing. I heard what Thor said. I was there, and I've also seen it in your mind. I know what you did, the way I know about New York. The desert was where we first met, though neither of us saw each other. It was very chaotic. Worlds were colliding. I never knew what you looked like. I pictured you very differently, too.''
Darcy was going to say something else when they heard the sound of chairs being pushed back. The woman stood and walked over to them, followed by Natasha. ''We have found ourselves all in a very strange time,'' she said in English. ''The scientists think that they have grown so wise. Yet they are simply discovering powers that were already there, waiting to be unlocked. The mistake was believing that there would be no consequences.'' She sighed. ''Your arrival here is a sign I have been waiting for. We must cast the runes, now, as the world continues to darken.''
Pulling out a small reindeer-skin pouch, she sat down on the cabin floor, motioning for the rest of them to join her. ''Ask her to tell you,'' the old woman said. She stretched out a hand toward Darcy, giving her the bag. ''The changed one, the one who glows. The runes burn under her skin like fire. She shall read.''
''I...I mean, I've never actually done this before,'' admitted Darcy nervously, opening the pouch. ''I've only read about it.''
''You know how. They speak to you.'' The seer nodded encouragingly. Natasha shot Loki a confused look, the god observed all of this silently, keeping his gaze fixed on Darcy.
''Why...why is there blood on these stones?'' she asked, her voice shaking a little as she observed the unmistakeable rust-coloured smears around the carved runes. They were lovely, though, smooth and polished, probably made from bone. They felt cool and heavy in her hands. The old woman only smiled, showing a few missing teeth. ''Ok,'' Darcy breathed, trying to will her hands to stop shaking as she sat down on the dusty floor. Grabbing a handful of the stones, she cast them onto the ground, watching as they tumbled along, then rested. She leaned down closer to interpret. Then it began.
Loki watched in horror as once again a strange and primitive force seemed to somehow grab hold of Darcy, her eyes going completely black, her posture rigid. Oh, he hated it, he hated it. This seemed to be part of her now, something that had hitchiked along with all of the other alterations. At least this time there were no runes ripping themselves into her skin. To his left, Natasha gave a weird gasp.
''It only looks bad,'' the old woman assured them. ''It is a gift. She is a very special girl.''
''That...is not a gift,'' Loki muttered icily.
''Everything hidden, everything waits. The wolf is hiding in the snow. One, then more. They will collect.'' The voice that came from Darcy's lips was strange, like a very old rattling whisper, the sound of a locked room that remained unentered for centuries.
''Two from the moment that never should have been. The sounds begin in the Void. Three, then more. Then the world grows darker yet. They will collect.''
The woman moved closer to Darcy. ''Is the wolf close?'' She had a grim look on her face, seemed to hunch a little, her age showing itself more profoundly.
''I can see him. He is waiting. He is hungry.''
''Is he still chained?'' Loki asked, inching forward, looking right into her onyx eyes, finding no trace of his Darcy there. He might as well have been speaking to a stranger. She didn't answer, just looked at him. ''What are you?'' he demanded, an ugly edge to the words.
''The Well,'' she replied. ''I hold the hidden.''
Then it let go and Darcy's eyes rolled back as she slumped over onto the floor, her hair spilling over the runes. Loki pulled her into his arms, shook her gently. ''Darcy? Are you alright, love?'' Her eyelids fluttered. The old woman got to her feet with surprising agility and crossed the room, pulling a bottle off of one of her shelves and pouring some of its contents into a small cup. ''She'll be fine in a moment. It's always a bit rough, this sort of a trance.'' She knelt down in front of Loki and Darcy, held the cup to Darcy's lips.
''What just happened?'' demanded Natasha, a distinct paleness now on her face. Darcy opened her eyes, took a few deep breaths, then gratefully accepted the cup, taking a long drink. The liquid was some sort of heavily spiced liqueur, it burned her throat and made her want to sneeze. She grimaced reflexively but mumbled ''thank you,'' and took another sip. For all the awful taste, she could definitely already feel it working, spreading a reviving warmth through her.
''She has a gift,'' the seer declared again, almost proudly.
Darcy closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady the ground. She had a very slight case of the spins. After another long drink from the cup, she was feeling better. The last thing that she had really been fully aware of was leaning down to look at the runes. Then a peculiar tugging sensation had begun at the back of her head and in the pit of her stomach. It pulled at her like a centrifugal force, until she found herself being dragged backwards. She was half aware of herself talking, there was an odd, dry rasping in her throat as some foreign sound pushed its way out against her will. And then it let go suddenly, leaving her limp and disoriented, feeling like a deflated balloon.
She'd had the feeling before, in Asgard, searching for the Tesseract, when there had been visions of the gates. But this was the first time there was something like a distinct presence moving through her, speaking. It hadn't felt malevolent at all, just incredibly old and powerful and vast. Something that didn't have a body, simply borrowed one when it had something to say.
They stayed in the seer's cabin that night. Natasha remained awake, sitting on a chair by the window, still shaken by what she'd seen, though she couldn't exactly say why, and that was the part that bothered her the most. The fire burned a little lower now, the shadows changed their shape. Darcy kept letting the yowling winter wind outside creep into her imagination, so she pressed herself even more closely against Loki. The seer's drink was making her feel warm and heavy, made her head feel like a stone that could open its eyes. And Loki held Darcy, tried to hide with her among the changing shadows.