Ask and Ye Shall Receive

Alone with Heror I could have held the storm at bay, my magic was more than
adequate for my own protection. But with Marissa and Rocket added to the equation, my
magic was stretched very thin indeed. Too thin to withstand the assault of a mage-spawned
storm conjured by my rebellious apprentice, I thought, cursing him with each breath. The
wind rose to an unholy screech, as if all the tormented souls of hell were set loose and
hungering for us. I could barely focus my thoughts over it.

Marissa had her arms about me, clinging to me like a barnacle. I would have
appreciated it more if we were not in danger of being killed. As it was, all I could do was hug
her back and whisper some meaningless words of comfort. In front of us, Heror and Rocket
were whickering in fear, and I placed a hand on my stallion and ordered him to lie still and
stay calm. We were finished if the horses succumbed to panic.

*Calm, calm, great one. Tis but the wind. Ignore it. It won't penetrate my shields,*
I sent reassuringly to Heror, lying through my teeth, for I could feel the mage shield buckling
as the tornado slammed into it repeatedly.

Heror snorted a command to Rocket, and then both horses went still, trusting me to
get us out of this alive. I prayed to the Norns I could. The shield was firmly grounded in
earth, so I knew the tornado would not be able to rip it up that way. No, we were in more
danger of the wind collapsing it from above, for the dome of magic was thinner at the top
than the bottom. I gritted my teeth and forced my will on the dome, throwing every last bit
of my power and strength into it.

It was not enough, I realized in despair.

The tornado's power had the backing of the Black Spear behind it, and Gungnir had
gone centuries without whetting its appetite for death and destruction. Now, unleashed, it
would stop at nothing to sate that longing. And, strong though as I was, I was only one
immortal magician.

Beside me, Marissa was praying, beseeching God and all the holy angels of the hosts
to keep us safe.

I shut my eyes, struggling to keep my will focused, all the while feeling my paper thin
shield bending and shivering, threatening to tear apart.

Damn you! Damn you! I will not let this happen. I WILL NOT!

I might have as well been spitting into the ocean, such was my will to that of the Spear
of War.

I called out to Odin, to my fellow Asgardians, but all of them were too far away to
help me. Indeed I didn't even know if they heard my plaintive psychic cry for help. But
someone else did.

*I am here, my brother.*

I felt a familiar presence touch my mind, one I hadn't felt in an age. I grasped at it
like a drowning man does a spar. *Who are you?*

*Do you truly not recognize me, Loki? I told you that one day we would meet again.*

Then I knew. "Jesus Christ!" I cried aloud, my voice raw with relief and exhaustion.

*Indeed. Though I am somewhat changed from when last you knew me, brother,* he
said wryly.

That was an understatement. What had once been a brilliant presence to my immortal
sense was now a bonfire. I opened my eyes and saw with my eldritch Sight not the darkness
of the blanket, but the tall figure of my former friend, etched lightly with starfire. All of his
mortal shell had been burned away, leaving only the pure energy of the divine.

I squinted, blinking back tears.

*I'd love to stay and chat, Jesus, but I'm kind of involved now, as you can see.*

*I heard you call out for help.*

*To Odin, yeah.* I admitted stiffly.

*Will I do instead?*

*You're a healer. Can you block Gungnir?*

*I can. But rules must be observed first.*

I bit my lip hard. I knew what he wanted. He was not of my pantheon. And the only
way he could aid me was if I asked for his help directly. I hadn't called on the aid of another
immortal in centuries. Especially not this one. Pride held me mute.

Then I glanced down at the slender woman huddled at my side.

*Ask and ye shall receive,* came Jesus' soft thought.

Pride be damned. I swallowed the bitter taste of defeat and held out my hand.

*Help me, brother. Please.*

*Gladly. My strength is thine.* Then Jesus' hand closed over mine.

And strength as I'd never known poured into me.

I sent it upwards, reinforcing the shield to withstand ten times the force that it did.
My whole being was suffused with light, with the searing power of love, with a will stronger
and more gentle than my own. It wrapped me and Marissa in a soothing wave of warmth and
safety, protecting us utterly from the savage ferocity of the tornado.

Beyond the shield I knew the tornado raged, wailing and gnashing its teeth, but I no
longer cared. For I was safe, cradled close in the palm of the Healer, and so were Marissa
and the horses.

"It's going to be okay, sweetheart," I heard myself whisper to her, even as tears of
relief slipped down my cheeks.

"I know," she whispered back, and I knew she felt Him too.

How longer we remained there, drifting in the cocoon of power lent to me by Jesus
of Nazareth, I did not know. Minutes, hours, days? Time ceased to matter then. I could feel
the wind begin to abate as the storm moved away, the power that had summoned it fading.

*It is finished, Loki. The one who summoned such destruction is gone from this
realm.*

*Dead?*

*No. But he is no longer on Earth. I believe he has returned to your realm, Asgard.*

*Yeah, I kind of figured he'd do that. Leif knows better than to hang around the scene
of a crime, the slippery little bastard.*

Jesus coughed, and I wondered if I ought to apologize for using such language in front
of him. Then I shrugged, he was an adult, he'd heard it before. But what he said next nearly
made me pass out. * Your apprentice did not summon that storm, Loki. Nor does he have the
Black Spear now.*

*He doesn't?* I repeated dazedly. *Then who does?*

*I don't know. Only that the bearer is much older, more experienced, and bears more
of a grudge against you and yours.*

I sighed. *Great, just great. I was hoping it was Odin.*

*No. The Black Spear knows its master. The one who holds it now is not the Gray
Wanderer, but an old enemy of yours.*

*Wonderful. It never rains but it pours.* I slipped my hand free of Jesus' grasp. *Is
it permitted to ask for your help again, brother?*

Regretfully, he shook his head. *Not for this. To save your life and that of your
beloved, yes. But retrieving Gungnir is your task, Loki. I'm sorry.*

*Forget it. You've done enough. I owe you more than I'll ever be able to repay.*

*No. There are no debts between us, my brother. You gave me advice long ago and
what I have done today balances the scales.*

I nearly choked. *My advice got you killed!*

*No, it showed me the way. My death was foretold, you could not have prevented it.
Only by great sacrifice could my vision come to pass. I knew it, Loki. And I chose it,
willingly. Now quit blaming yourself, magician. Self-flagellation does not become you.*

*But if I hadn't told you—*

*I asked and you answered. It was hardly your fault the answer was not comforting.
As I told my disciples long ago, do not ask the question unless you are prepared to hear the
answer. What's done is done, my brother. I died and was reborn. Birth is never an easy
process, as well you know,* he said with a laugh.

I scowled. *Oh, shut up. That was unintentional, an accident.*

*Perhaps. Or perhaps not. It certainly taught you to respect women though. As my
own sacrifice taught me to feel compassion and love for all mankind.*

*You already felt that,* I argued.

*Not the way I do now, Loki. I was a Healer, I took away the suffering of others. Yes,
I felt empathy for them, but I never knew what it was like to truly FEEL what they did. I was
privileged in my upbringing, I never knew true hardship until that day. On that day I
understood what it was to truly BE mortal. It transformed me, physically and
metaphysically.*

*Wonderful. You telling me that everyone should go out and nail themselves to a
cross now?*

*Of course not. There is pain and suffering enough for mortals without that. My
sacrifice was for them and for myself, to make the world better. I never intended for it to be
copied. *He eyed me sternly, the way a teacher will a misbehaving student. * Although you've
done a pretty good job of nailing your heart to a cross instead, brother. *

*What are you talking about?*

*You know what I mean. All those doubts and self-recriminations you have are the
nails that bind you. I can only absolve you of a few. I forgive you for the part you played,
however unwillingly, in my death. Now you must forgive yourself.*

*All right. I will.* I agreed. At those words, a sense of lightness overcame me, as the
cloak of guilt I'd carried about for centuries slipped away, and I smiled. Yet I sensed that I
was still not truly free. *What now?*

*Now all that remains is for you to trust the one you love. Don't be afraid to love her,
Loki. Love will set you free.*

*I thought that was truth.*

*They are one and the same.*

*I seem to remember having a similar conversation with you long ago.*

His eyes twinkled. *True. Only this time I hope you will do me a favor and take my
advice. I must go. Farewell, my brother. Peace be with you.*

*And also with you, brother,* I said humbly. *Until we meet again.*

Jesus smiled. Then he was gone, and the strength he had given me was gone too. I
felt it flicker and fade like a guttered candle. I released my hold on my magic and all of the
exhaustion and strain I'd been battling suddenly came back and knocked me right on my ass.
I didn't even bother to fight it. I simply toppled over onto Marissa and fell asleep. She never
even noticed, for she too was far away in the land of dreams.

* * * * * *
I woke with the aftertaste of dust in my mouth and the remnants of what should have
been a throbbing headache, given the amount of magic I'd used. I'd practically drained
myself down to nothing and normally overusing my Talent that way would have left me flat
on my back for three days, weak as a newborn kitten. But, to my surprise, I was unpleasantly
stiff from sleeping against bare rock, and sore from being banged against said rock during the
tornado, but otherwise I was fine.

I figured this was due to the divine intervention I'd called upon yesterday. I sent a
quiet thank you heavenward. Then I pushed off the sweltering blanket that covered me and
Marissa and gazed up at the first rays of an early dawn. I squinted at the streaks of purple and
rose that tinted the now clear blue sky though my immortal sense of time had told me it was
early morning as soon as I'd woken.

I wasn't surprised I'd slept that long, nobody bounces back after wrestling with a
tornado after only a few hours, immortal or otherwise. Heror and Rocket had gotten to their
feet and were cropping grass a few feet away. I grinned at the sight. Then I propped myself
on an elbow and looked down at the still slumbering woman curled in my right arm.

I would have loved to remain like that forever, just holding her. What man wouldn't?
I mulled over the advice I'd been given, wondering if it'd be kinder to just slip away, leaving
her with a mere memory of my presence. Having me in her life would complicate things
immensely.

But I rejected that line of thinking. I was no coward, and making her forget me was
a coward's trick. Also, I didn't want her to forget me. Too many mortals had done that over
the centuries. Plus, if I'd read her right, she was falling in love with me, and it wouldn't be
fair to her to take that away.

If she were going to reject me for what I was, she would have to do it willingly.

Though I prayed that she wouldn't. I had known too much rejection in my life.

But what mortal woman would choose to stay with an immortal magician with a
reputation like I had? A cynical part of my mind sneered.

One who loves you, a hopeful part of my heart whispered.

Ah, but would she still love me once I told her the truth?

Jesus seemed to think so.

I wasn't as optimistic.

But there was only one way to find out.

I shook Marissa's shoulder gently.

Her eyes opened, and she smiled sleepily up at me. "Loki? Is it morning already?"

"Sure is, sunshine. I'm just glad we're alive to see it."

"Me too." She stretched leisurely, then sat up. She glanced about her slowly, then
said, "God was with us yesterday."

"Yeah, He sure was." More than you'll ever know. I rolled to my feet, wincing as my
back protested my sudden movement. "You all right?"

"Fine. Just a bit stiff. Sleeping on rock will do that to you," she admitted with a
rueful grin. Then she added, "Though you make a wonderful pillow."

I chuckled. "Glad you think so. I've been called a lot of things in my life, but not
that."

We separated then to attend to personal business, but afterwards we returned to the
blanket, which we folded together, while giving each other surreptitious glances from beneath
our lashes.

"Do you think the camp was hit by the tornado too?" she asked at last.

"Maybe. With a storm like that, anything's possible. But we'll find out once we go
back." I answered. Then I took the bull by the horns and said, "Before we do though, there's
something I've got to tell you, Rissa." I sat down on the blanket. "You might want to sit
down. This will take awhile."

I sent another silent prayer to Jesus that he'd been right about trusting her. Then I
opened my mouth and told her the truth. Not everything, there wasn't time for me to relate
my entire history, but I told her who I really was, who Bella was, and where I really came
from. I told her about Leif, Gungnir, and my attempt to shield us with magic that had nearly
failed.

To my surprise, she didn't ask me for a demonstration of my magic. Instead she
seemed more impressed with the fact that I was personal friends with Jesus. Which, I'll
admit, was nothing to sneeze at.

"You called on God and He answered you?" her eyes were wide.

"Yes. But I didn't really think he'd answer me. I was just as surprised as you." More
in fact. But then again, I'd never been that desperate before. "You're taking all of this a lot
better than I expected. Is that because you believe me or do you think I'm totally insane?"

"No. I believe you. Any other woman would definitely nominate you as a candidate
for an asylum, but I know you're telling me the truth. I told you once before, I believed in
magic. I was raised by a Gypsy woman, so I know magic isn't just an act to fool the gullible,
though Esmerelda has been known to rely on props a time or two during a reading. Just as
you do during your magic act. You're the real thing, Loki of Asgard. Just like Esmerelda
said you'd be."

"What do you mean?"

She colored faintly, as if she were embarrassed, but she met my eyes squarely. "I, ah,
asked her to do a reading for me just before you signed on with us. It's not something I
usually ask her, because most tarot readers don't like to see for family members. But
something told me it was important, so I asked her for one. She agreed. One of my cards was
the Magician. Normally that card indicates a change in a person's life. But in my case,
Esmerelda interpreted it to be both a figurative and a literal thing. The Magician will come
and he will change your life, she told me. And you did come, and my life was changed.
Though I'll admit the last thing I expected was to fall in love with you."

"You can still say that, even after what I just told you?" I repeated incredulously.

"I can. Immortal or mortal, Loki, I really do love you. And I don't say that about just
anyone. Matter of fact, I've never told that to any man except my father."

"Not even that boy from Boston?"

"That was puppy love," she dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "I was sixteen,
what did I know about love? But this . . .this is different. Don't ask me why, cause I can't tell
you. At least not so it'd make sense. But from the minute I saw you, I knew you could be
trusted not to hurt me."

"That's a first. Usually people have the opposite reaction, once they learn my name."

She snorted. "I never pay attention to gossip. Besides, if the Almighty calls you
friend, who am I to judge you?"

"How do you know He doesn't have awful taste in friends?" I demanded outrageously.

She gaped at me for a full ten seconds, then sputtered, "Well because-because He's
God. And He'd never make a mistake like that. Besides, you saved my life. Twice. Nearly
got yourself killed both times too. And a man only does that if he truly cares about a
woman."

"You're right. I really do care for you, Marissa Turner. In fact I think I love you, and
that's something I've never said to any woman, mortal or immortal, until you. I never
intended for this to happen. When I came down here it was to retrieve Gungnir, not to get
involved with a mortal woman."

"I know. Are you sorry this happened then?"

"No. Though by the Nine Hells, I ought to be. Falling in love with a mortal woman
is supposed to be poison for someone like me." I admitted frankly. "Instead, it's the best
thing that ever happened to me. Least it feels that way."

"Good. Because I feel the same way about you," she said simply. The next thing I
knew she was in my arms and kissing me.

It was a moment before I registered what she was doing, my brain was still stumbling
over the fact that I'd actually admitted I loved her. Luckily, my body wasn't relying on my
brain and it knew what to do instinctively. I kissed her back with equal fervor. More even
because I could sense that she truly meant what she'd said. It was not an act or a sham. She
truly accepted me for who and what I was. As an empath, I knew what a rare gift that was.
Best of all, I returned her feelings in full measure.

The white-hot glow of passion consumed me and there is little doubt in my mind that
I would have made love to her right then had not Heror interrupted us with a snort and a
shove to my shoulder.

I drew away, casting an annoyed glare at the big horse. "Odin's bloody eye, Heror!
Go get lost or something," I ordered angrily.

"Why? So you and the pale female can play mating games? I wouldn't have thought
she was in season yet. Although you humans, unlike mares, seem to be forever in that state,
if your people are any example," Heror snickered in Equus.

I felt my face go red and I muttered, "Shut up and go away, Heror." I longed
desperately to return to that moment when I had held Marissa in my arms, before we had beenso rudely interrupted by my too-observant horse, but that moment had been lost.

"Loki, were you speaking with your horse just now?" Marissa asked, her voice tinged
with awe, her eyes bright with child-like wonder.

I nodded. "Yes. Heror and I can speak to each other in Equus, which is the language
of all horses. But he can also speak in Norse as well. He's not an ordinary horse, Rissa. Like
me, he's magical."

Marissa nodded, smiling. "I guessed from the first time I rode him. No ordinary
horse would have picked up on my cues and learned my routine so quickly. He's a wonder
and a marvel."

"He's an interfering pain in the ass, is what he is," I scowled. "I don't know why I put
up with him."

"Because you love him." Marissa said simply.

"Not as much as I love you."

She laughed. "Now that is a real miracle. For you to love me at all. Might I ask what
it is that you see in me, a mere bareback rider, daughter of a circus performer? There must
be dozens of women out there who are prettier, more cultured, richer than I am. Why me?"

"Why does night follow day? Why do the stars shine in the heavens? Why can a fish
breathe water? Because it was meant to be. I know only that I love you, that I need you the
way a bird needs wings or a bee needs honey, in a way that I've never needed a woman until
you, Marissa Turner."

"Oh, Loki. I can't believe you just said that."

"Why not? It's true."

"Yes, but it still amazes me that you can say such things about me, an ordinary
woman."

"Ordinary? You? Never. One thing which I can tell you, and which you ought to
believe beyond all doubt, is that you are anything but ordinary, Marissa. Trust me on that.
There is no one like you on this world or any other. And I don't give a damn if there are other
women out there who are prettier, or more accomplished, or who are related to royalty. All
that is unimportant. What's inside a person counts more than the outside."

"I have never heard any man say such things before," she admitted shyly.

"Then you've been talking to the wrong men, sweetheart."

"I take it you aren't one of those traditionalist who think all a woman is good for is
cooking, cleaning, and having children?"

I burst out laughing at the indignation in her tone when she said such things. "Ah,
Marissa, all the women I've ever known can put their hand to just about any task a man can,
and do it quicker and better than some even. I know better than to classify women as the
weak whimpering milksops you mortal men claim they are. In fact, I've never understood
the fascination mortal men have with women who are subservient and meek. I find them
unutterably dull and boring. I like my women sharp and sassy. I want a partner, not a
doormat."

"Well, if you really mean that, Loki, we should get on just wonderfully."

Grinning, I kissed her once more, then reluctantly drew away. "Come. We should
be getting back, before they send out a search party."

"Right," she sighed reluctantly, but then began to tack up Rocket. "I hope everyone
else survived the tornado without too much trouble."

I cinched Heror's saddle and mounted. "If Belle was able to ward the camp in time,
the damage hopefully will be minor and easily repaired," I comforted her.

I didn't even want to imagine what the damage would be like if she hadn't. The
aftermath of a powerful tornado is not something you ever forget once you've witnessed it.
Nature like most of my more warlike fellow immortals, takes no prisoners and shows no
mercy.

I turned Heror's nose back towards our encampment and gave the big black his head.
He ran like a swift tongue of black flame over the prairie. Normally I would have been
enraptured at the speed of my magical mount, but today I was uneasy and twitchy, and my
stomach felt as if I'd swallowed a lump of lead or eaten Thor's cooking.

Back at camp, the place was in an uproar. Despite my warning, Belle had had time
to throw only the quickest and easiest of shields over the wagons and animals before the
tornado struck. Even with her shield in place and her ability to blunt the worst of the wind's
force with her magic, the twister had still done considerable damage.

Trees near the campsite had been uprooted and flung through the air, one had landed
right on top of the wagon with the strong box. Another had crashed into the cage of one of
the tigers, Tundra, and driven a three-foot branch into the cat's hind leg. Belle was working
with Johnny to heal the big cat, allowing the trainer to hold the cat's head while she cleaned
the wound and healed it unobtrusively with her magic.

The Flynns had lost a few shingles off their vardo's roof but were otherwise
unharmed. Everyone else had seemed to have sustained minor injuries, scrapes, bruises and
such, but nothing life threatening. We were greeted with cries of delight and relief, for when
we did not return, our friends had feared the worst. I accepted the hugs and kisses of
Esmerelda and Rowena and a grin and a handshake from Nicco and Marco, plus a one-armed
hug from Hawk before going over to picket Heror near Flicker and Fleetfoot. They too were
relieved to see their stablemate safe and unharmed, and I was sure Heror would be telling
them of his close encounter with death for months to come.

I left my stallion telling his war stories, inbetween munching a nosebag of oats, and
went to see if Belle needed any help with Tundra. I needn't have worried, between her and
Johnny, they had the situation well under control. After reassuring me that she was fine and
quite capable of stitching up the gash marring the beautiful cat's snow white fur, I left her to
it and went over to inspect the ruined wagon with the locked chest containing Gungnir.

The tree had landed on the back half of the wagon, its top smashing the wagon in and
leaving the roots sticking up like a parody of some giant hand. I picked my way carefully
through the wreckage, illuminating the dark interior with a simple witchlight. The chest had
been behind the desk where Matthew and the unlamented Mr. Tims had done the accounting.
Bits of wood and canvas had fallen on the desk and the splintered branches of a cottonwood
tree were scattered all over. I carefully moved some of the branches with a whispered word
of magic, and caught sight of the corner of the warded chest.

Eagerly, I flung aside the large branch that lay atop the chest, moving it to the other
side of the wagon with a thump. The top of the chest had been battered somewhat by the
branch, but aside from a few dents and scratches and a smashed corner, didn't look half-bad.

But as I drew closer to it, my magical senses extended to cancel the wards, I knew
something was wrong. The wards had been reset, but not with my smooth finesse. They'd
been patched together clumsily, some of the runes had been broken and repaired in a hurry,
so they didn't flow together and connect seamlessly.

I cursed low and viciously in Old Norse, then removed the wards with a hissed word
of magic. I flipped up the lid of the chest, knowing already what I would find.

Nothing.

Gungnir was gone, and this time there was not even a facsimile to take its place.

The author of that tornado had wasted no time in using the storm as a cover to steal
the Spear of War and Death.

I cast about desperately with my magical senses, trying in vain to determine where the
spear had gone. All I got for my trouble was a raging headache.

Stupid! I mentally berated myself. How could I have been so stupid? I should have
snatched the spear when I had the chance, instead of using it as bait. Instead the trap had
been sprung and I had missed my quarry.

I don't know how long I remained there, staring at the wreckage and the empty trunk,
cursing myself and Leif with every breath I took, but the sound of Hawk calling my name
brought me back to myself.

"Loki! Loki, where are you?"

"Here," I answered, stumbling back out of the wagon. "What's the matter, son?"

"It's Matthew. You gotta come quick, he's hurt real bad and Marissa says you're the
only one who can save him." Hawk reported gravely, his eyes wide with fear and the shreds
of a desperate hope.