Return to Asgard

I wasn't present for my daughter's reunion with her betrothed, but I was sure Leif's heartfelt apology and remorse for his actions did not go unappreciated by her. I did not begrudge them their time together, though I knew the longer we remained here upon Midgard, the harder it would be to track the spear through Malastein's demesne.

Leif's assurances to the contrary, I could not believe the Vanir lord would be so stupid as to take Gungnir back to his stronghold like a severed head, waving it about like a war trophy. It was the first place we'd look and if discovered there could be—make that would be—construed as an act of war. Then again, perhaps that was exactly what Malastein wanted. The Vanir was too cagey not to know the ramifications if he were caught with Gungnir in his possession. It was plausible he'd use any excuse to renew the age old feud between Aesir and Vanir. His kind never forgot or forgave a slight, no matter how many centuries had gone by. Or perhaps his son's spontaneous theft had seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up.

I sighed gustily. It really didn't matter what Malastein's reasoning had been. The fact remained that the Black Spear was a potent weapon for destruction and there was little doubt in my mind that Malastein would have any scruples about using it on my people. The devious vicious Vanir had shown quite clearly that he had no mercy or compassion in him, not even for his own offspring. A man like that is deadly and the sooner we got Gungnir away from him the better I'd sleep at night.

Yet I felt bad at having to pack up and leave so soon after Matthew's funeral, even though I'd never intended to stay here for longer than a month at most. Marissa's grief was still raw and fresh, I wanted to stay and comfort her through the worst of it. I had promised Matthew that I'd make her happy and I hated breaking my word to him. Yet neither could I allow Malastein to run amok with Gungnir. There was no telling what kind of havoc he'd wreak on both realms unless he was stopped, and right now I was the best person to do it. I was truly on the horns of an unenviable dilemma.

I rejoined the crowd of mourners, and forced myself to eat something and drink about two glasses of ale to dull the throbbing in my head. The will had been read earlier that afternoon by Marco, and in it he'd made Marissa his sole heir to the circus, as he'd promised me. Aside from a few monetary bequests to the oldest members of the show and a few special items being given to certain friends, Matthew Turner had departed this world without leaving much of a mark financially. Spiritually, however, was another story. I didn't think anyone who had ever known him would ever forget him and to those of us who'd loved him . . .we'd carry him in our hearts and in our memories for all eternity.

I noticed Marissa sitting inbetween Esmerelda and Rowena, looking pale and drawn, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. I dreaded telling her that I must leave, for I felt such an action would make me look like nothing so much as a selfish and shallow insensitive bastard. Yet I knew I had no choice. Malastein had to be stopped at all costs. But oh, how I regretted bitterly abandoning poor Marissa. She deserved so much better than me.

Then again, maybe she'd find someone else while I was gone. I tried to be philosophical about it, but the mere thought of Rissa in another man's embrace made me get hot under the collar. Like a volcano about to erupt. What's all this about, Loki? The practical part of my mind inquired silkily. You, jealous over a mere slip of a mortal woman? There's hundreds more where she came from and more than half would probably give their left arm to sleep with you.

Ah, probably true, but none of those phantom women were Marissa Turner, the romantic in me whimpered. Therefore I would have none of them. Marissa was the one—the only one I could trust—with my secrets and my heart. Maybe even with my life. That was why it was tearing me up to leave her. Despite all the cold concrete reasons my rational mind threw up against a match between mortal and immortal, and how I'd be doing both of us a favor if I called it off now, I just couldn't do it.

Call it fate, call it destiny, call it love, plain and simple. But whatever you've a mind to call it, I knew it had bound the two of us together for all of time and that was all there was to it. Right or wrong, we were meant to be.

Once my mind had finally accepted the inevitable, I could now turn my clever brain to figuring out a way to tell my beloved gently that I must leave her for a time, though I would promise to return as quickly as was immortally possible (which, given my magic, was damned quick). Assuming all went well, that is. But I'd worry about that later.

I've never been one for long sappy goodbyes, so I figured the best way was to just do it and get it over with. Like taking nasty tasting medicine. Just hold your nose and swallow and it'll be over in a snap. Or so I told myself.

But it took me a full half-hour to gather up nerve enough to go over to Marissa's wagon and knock on her door. She'd gone there soon after the funeral feast and I hated like hell to disturb her. She'd loved her father very much, he'd been her only family, and I knew she deserved a decent mourning period. And time to accustom herself to her new role as circus manager and owner as well as performer. I wondered if she'd counted on my support and wished bitterly that I could just say to blazes with Gungnir, the Vanir, and the whole sorry mess and forget about it. After all, I was no damn hero, just an immortal magician, right?

But my conscience—damn the bloody thing!—was poking me uncomfortably, reminding me that I'd sworn an oath to recover the spear and whatever else I might be, I always tried to keep my word. Mostly. Ah, hells, I must be getting old if I was beginning to listen to my conscience this way, I scowled. When I'd been a century-old irresponsible youngling, I'd never have even heard it shouting. Then again, when I was that age, I'd never have looked twice at a woman like Marissa either.

Enough soul-searching, I ordered myself sternly. Just bite the bullet, as they say out here, and get it over with.

So I did. I knocked on her door and she opened it and let me in. She was pale and there was a lifetime's worth of heartbreak already shimmering in her great big eyes, but she invited me in without tears or a quiver in her voice at the impropriety of my visit, unannounced and unchaperoned. She offered me some tea, and I accepted, even though my stomach was in knots.

She poured it in two cups, slid one over to me, and then sat opposite me and stared down at the table. I could tell she was fighting to maintain her composure, and while I wouldn't have cared in the slightest if she started crying (it'd give me an excuse to hold her) I sensed she didn't want to fall apart now and so I didn't say anything.

I stirred sugar and milk into my tea and sipped it slowly, keeping my gaze on my cup, wanting to take her in my arms and hold her and kiss her until she forgot all about being miserable and smiled again. Thor's beard, how I wanted that!

"Does it ever get any better?" she said at last, in a voice so soft it might have been the wind.

"You're missing him, do you mean?"

She nodded and sipped her tea, gulping back the sob that hovered in the back of her throat.

"Eventually, yes. I know this sounds trite, but time really does heal most wounds."

"You'd know, wouldn't you?" she said, and there was a wry twist to her mouth.

"Yeah. I've lost more than my share of friends in my life. Mortal or immortal, it still hurts like a bitch at first, no matter if it's the first time or the hundredth time. But I can tell you that after awhile the gaping hole in your heart closes over a little and you can say his name or remember what he told you without crying. Not that it ever goes away, cause it doesn't, but you won't feel it as sharply. It becomes something you can live with, like a scar. Does that help any?"

"A little." She brushed a hand across her eyes. "It's just so hard, losing him like that. I wasn't anywhere near prepared, you know. I though we'd have at least another twenty years or so, y'know?"

"I know." I reached over and clasped her hand. She gripped it hard and did not let go.

"That damn twister . . .it came out of nowhere. If only we'd had some warning . . .he could've found shelter or something . . ." she sniffled and slammed her other hand down on the table, making the cups rattle. "Why'd it have to happen to him, and not somebody else . . .God, that's terrible, to wish another dead, but I can't help it, Loki. I wish like hell my father was still alive and somebody else wasn't. I'm an awful person, aren't I?"

"No. Just human and hurting," I said softly. "Grief is never rational or considerate, sweetheart. It simply is. You're no better or worse than any other woman who's lost a loved one. Trust me on that, darling."

"Honest? I thought you might think I was . . .well . . . a monster or something."

"Never. You forget, I've known real monsters and you're nowhere near one. Not even close." I drew in a breath. "Though you might think me one after I say what I've come to say to you tonight."

"Don't be ridiculous, Loki. I could never think that of you, even if you are an immortal magician."

"You might change your mind soon enough," I predicted dolefully. Then I gathered what shreds of my courage remained and told her that I had to leave and return to Asgard. I told her about the spear being seized by Malastein and Leif and the importance of getting the spear back where it belonged. I was certain she was going to call me a liar and tell me to get my sorry ass out of her home. Either that or throw herself into my arms and wail that she'd never let me go.

Instead she looked me up and down and said, "I see. When we find the bastard, I want the first piece of him. When do we leave?"

I remained with my mouth open like a dunce for several minutes, my mind whirling in crazed confused circles like a dog chasing its tail.

Then I closed it and said in a voice I barely recognized, "You want to come with me?"

"Not want to, Loki. Am." There was the finality of the grave in her tone.

"But you can't! There hasn't been a mortal in Asgard for centuries. I think." I sputtered.

"Is there some rule against my being there?" she inquired sweetly.

"Well, no, not really," I hedged. "No one's ever forbidden it, but it's not something you see everyday, since mortals have to cross the Rainbow Bridge, and most of you only do that once you die."

"But there's no magical barrier or anything preventing you from taking me with you, is there?"

I shook my head. "No, but like I said, it's been at least five centuries since a mortal's gone wandering about the realms of the gods. Lots of creatures and people in my homeland aren't kind to mortals."

"So what? I'm still going with you."

"Why, Marissa?"

"Two reasons. One is that I want to nail the son of a bitch that called up that twister and murdered my father. And the other is that without me you won't have a snowball's chance of hell in finding the damn thing."

"Oh? Why do you say that? I found it just fine before," I bristled. I was always defensive when my magical abilities were called into question.

"That was before, when your little kid of an apprentice hid it. But you said yourself that this Malastein's no novice. He'll make damn sure the spear's hidden even from your magical sight, Loki. At least long enough for him to use it to slam your people good, or to use it as leverage to make a deal. Have you been able to sense the spear since the bastard took it?"

"No," I admitted with gritted teeth. "But that doesn't mean—"

"I can track it without a problem," she interrupted. "You forget what I am. I can find anything, even when it's a world away hidden with magic. Trust me on that, sweetheart."

"You can feel Gungnir even from here?"

"Yeah. It's a bit faint, like the buzzing of a bee, but I know it'll grow stronger once we're on Asgard. There's nowhere he can hide it that I won't be able to find it, even if he threw it into the ocean. My Talent's always been reliable like that."

I opened my mouth to argue some more, then I slowly shut it again. For I knew that despite any argument I could make against it, Marissa was bound and determined to come with me. She knew her Talent would be the deciding factor in this chase and that I needed that advantage desperately. Besides, I hadn't wanted to be separated from her anyhow.

Funny, how the Norns answer your prayers sometimes, isn't it?

"All right. Guess you'd better start packing."

She gave me a sad smile. "Good. At least one man on the earth shows sense."

There were several things I could have said to that, but I wisely kept them to myself, for once. This was not the time to behave like a smartass.

So instead I said thank you. And was rewarded with a kiss. It was a bittersweet victory, to say the least.

Two days later we bid goodbye to the rest of the troupe. Marissa left Marco and Esmerelda in charge, promising she'd return as quickly as she was able. "In the meantime though, I know you'll manage the show better than anyone save my father, Marco." The young bareback rider declared. "He should have given you management, not me. You far wiser and smarter than I am."

"Nonsense, girl!" Marco snorted. "Your father knew what he was doing. The show is your heritage, you're his blood kin. The others respect and like you more than they ever will me. To them I'm still Gypsy trash. Smart Gypsy trash, but an outsider nonetheless. You, on the other hand . . ." He spread his hands wide.

Marissa scowled. "Don't say that about yourself, Marco! It's not true. Turner's Travelling Circus would have gone belly up in the sun if not for your family and their acrobatics. Everyone here knows it. You're one of the best acts we've got and the crowds love you."

"True, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm Rom, child." Marco pointed out kindly but firmly. "I am and probably always will remain an outsider to most of your people. It doesn't matter. We Romani learned long ago to ignore the gadje, for they are merely ignorant children, afraid of those they don't understand."

"Not all of us feel that way, Uncle Marco," Marissa said staunchly.

The Romani acrobat chuckled. "No, but you're outnumbered, child. Matthew understood this, it's why he made his will the way he did. Don't fret, Rissa, darling. If it's only experience you're lacking, well, that's soon remedied. In a year or so, you'll know as much as I do about running this show, if you're anything like your father, God bless him."

Marissa looked doubtful, but did not bother to argue further.

Esmerelda was eyeing the golden-haired rider with some trepidation. "Is it truly necessary for you to go and hunt down this criminal, Marissa? Would it not be better if you told the local law and let them handle it? They're trained in this kind of thing."

We had decided to tell the others only a partial truth, as we could never reveal the true nature of our quest to them. Besides, what we said was partially true, in a sense. Malastein was regarded as a criminal according to Aesir law, and as a member of the Aesir Council, I was sworn to bring him to justice.

"No. They had him in their grasp once and he escaped. Now it's my turn. My father's killer will be brought to justice, I swear it by all that's holy." Marissa said softly, her jaw set and her eyes glittering like those of a bird of prey.

Esmerelda gazed at her worriedly, and I saw Marissa soften. "Don't worry, Esmerelda. Loki will keep me safe."

"He'd better!" was all the Romani woman said, but her glare sent shivers down my spine. She pointed a finger at me and said, "I charge you with her safety, Loki Sigurdson. Any harm that befalls her will rebound upon you threefold. So best see to it that you keep your word, magic man."

"Relax, Esmerelda. Your darling girl will be safe with me, never doubt it." I soothed, giving her my best charming smile. "I know how to shoot to kill."

"When will you be back?" Hawk asked.

"When we've caught our man, kid," Marissa said, and ruffled the boy's hair. "Meantime you keep practicing and maybe you'll be a good bareback rider someday."

Hawk beamed. "Oh, I will, Miss Turner. Just you wait and see."

Both of us smiled at the scamp, then we bid the Flynns' goodbye, as well as the rest of the troupe, who were a bit shocked at Marissa's sudden decision to go haring off with a man she barely knew after a criminal. But none of them protested much, I guess they had learned that Marissa was a stubborn as her father, and she would do as she pleased.

At last we were ready, and we mounted our horses, tied Fleetfoot to the lead rein on Heror's saddle, and galloped off into the rising sun. We rode for several hours, until I judge we were far enough away from the encampment that we'd not cause a stir when I used my magic.

I halted Heror, who danced in place with eagerness. Leif and Bella exchanged glances as I lifted my arms up over my head then brought them down in a sharp sweeping movement. "I summon now Bifrost, the Rainbow Bridge," I chanted in Old Norse.

There was a brilliant flash of light, then a doorway opened and we could see the white arch of Bifrost, running with rivulets of rainbowed light. "Come along now," I beckoned to my companions. "I can't hold the door open forever, you know."

Belle heeled Flicker on through the gate and Leif followed on his own mount, a piebald gelding named Scruffy. Marissa stared in open mouthed amazement, then gently urged a snorting Rocket through the gate. Once the silver gelding was through, Heror sprang after, dragging a wild-eyed Fleetfoot after us.

"Come on, little Plains pony," Heror called back to the frightened paint. "There's nothing to be scared of, it's just a little light and magic. It won't hurt."

"Are we going to heaven then? Will I die?" Fleetfoot shivered.

"Of course not, you idiot!" Heror squealed. "Now move it!" He spun around and bared his teeth at the recalcitrant Indian pony.

Fleetfoot gave another shudder, then closed his eyes and hopped through the gate.

I quickly shut the gate, then led the way across Bifrost and onto the green fields of Asgard.

I took a deep breath of the clean crisp air scented with meadowsweet and goldenrod. It felt good to be home. Too bad we couldn't stay there. I cast a glance around, looking for Heimdall.

But the Gatekeeper was nowhere in sight. Some guardian he was, I sneered to myself. Then again, maybe it was lucky the big galoot wasn't here, as he'd only cause problems when he realized Marissa was a mortal.

Marissa was looking about her with the sort of wonder you only see on children and animals. "Oh, Loki! It's even more beautiful than you said. But where's that one-eyed warrior that's supposed to guard this bridge?"

"Probably at home snoozing or picking his nose hairs." I answered flippantly. "And you're mixing up your gods again, Rissa. Odin's the one with one eye, Heimdall's the one with eyes like a hawk's. Or so he claims. Me, I think he's mostly all noise and no substance. Still, I'd rather not have to get into an argument right now, so let's get moving."

I sent Heror into a steady canter, making sure the mortal steeds could keep up, and we raced over the emerald hills to my humble abode. I glanced back at Marissa as we rode. "Can you still feel the spear?"

"Yeah. It's stronger now than it was before." She waved a hand out towards the north and west. "I can feel it calling from over that way."

I bit my lip and exchanged worried glances with Bella and Leif.

"But Loki, that's not where Vanaheim is," my apprentice pointed out.

"I know. Looks like your father decided not to risk his homeland after all," I stated.

"Why? What's over there?" Marissa asked, raising one gold brow in puzzlement.

"That, my pretty dove, is one of the most inhospitable countries in this realm. A land full of rocks, heat, dust, and lava pools called Muspelheim. Home of the fire giants, avowed enemies of the Aesir and the Vanir."

"One of the worst pestholes in the universe," Belle added.

"Are you sure that Gungnir's there?" Leif asked unhappily.

Marissa nodded. "Afraid so, boy. Looks like we're gonna ride into hell to reclaim the blasted thing. I just hope it's worth it."

"It is," I said. "And we'd better get it back before Surtur decides he's gonna use it to make war on the entire realm and then start in on Midgard. He's a crazy power-hungry old bastard, and he'd like nothing better than to plunge the entire cosmos into a war that never ends."

"Could he really do such a thing, Father?"

"If he controls Gungnir he could." I said glumly. "What in hell was Malastein thinking, bringing it there?"

"Maybe he was hoping for an alliance?" Leif suggested diffidently.

"With Surtur?" I laughed mockingly. "Surtur doesn't know the meaning of the word. All he cares about is killing, money, and power. The more the better. Your father is either the world's biggest idiot or he knows something we don't about the fire giant king. Either way, it doesn't look good for us." I flicked the reins lightly at Heror's withers. "Come on. We'll pick up some provisions at my place, then it's off to merry Muspelheim and the smoking hot hospitality of Surtur the Scoundrel."

I threw open the gate and cantered up the drive, pausing in the yard to gaze appreciatively at my home. The sprawling stone and timber cottage with its climbing ivy and roses and purple wisteria hedges bordering the walkway had never looked so inviting. Funny, how you never appreciate your home until you've spent time on the road away from it. After over a month of sleeping on the narrow cot of a vardo, I was quite ready to tumble right into my plush featherbed and sleep for at least a week. Best of all, I had no fear that my house would have that musty, unused, closed in smell that houses pick up when you've been away for so long. Not with Ava looking after my humble abode. The Nis would make certain the place was spanking clean every day, whether or not I was at home. Nisses regard it as their solemn duty to keep a house clean no matter the time of day or night, something I was profoundly grateful for now that I was bringing Marissa here. No worries that she'd find my dirty socks under the sofa or my underwear in a corner somewhere along with the dirty dishes I'd forgotten about, like a typical bachelor.

I dismounted beside the stable, leading Heror into the cool recesses of the barn. My stallion pricked up his ears and gave a welcoming whinny to Olga who was sleeping in the straw next to her manger. "Hey, Olga! We're back. And we brought some visitors."

The goat was on her feet in a flash, bawling a delighted welcome. "Odin's beard, I thought you were gonna be gone the whole damn summer. What took you so long, magician?"

I grinned and bent to scratch her between her horns. She butted me affectionately in the ribs. "Hello, old girl. Missed me, didn't you?"

Olga snorted. "Not really. Ava took good care of me. She always gave me extra carrots and sugar."

"Yeah, I can tell. You're starting to put on weight, nanny."

She narrowed her eyes at me and stomped a hoof. "Very funny, Loki. Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yes and no," I sighed.

"What he means is he didn't find what he set out to get, but he found something he'd never thought to look for." Heror informed his stablemate gleefully. "Namely, a sweet young woman called Marissa Turner."

Olga chuckled loudly. "Oh ho! Looks like the avowed bachelor is no more. It's about time you tied the knot with a girl, magician. It's not healthy for a man to be alone so much."

I scowled and elbowed her hard in the ribs. "Hush up, damn it! She'll hear you."

"So?"

"There isn't going to be a wedding yet. I haven't even proposed to her."

"Hellfires, what are you waiting for? You aren't getting any younger, you know. Men! You're never on time for anything. I'll bet you'd be late for your own funeral."

"Listen, goat," I growled, leaning over and grasping her head with both hands, forcing her to meet my gaze. "You breathe a word about marriage or anything like it to Marissa or anyone else around here and I'll call for Thor's axe and make myself a tasty dish of goat stew. Got me?"

Now Olga might be ornery, but she was far from stupid. She could tell I meant what I said. (Well, mostly. I've never been all that fond of goat meat, to tell the truth.)

"Yes, Master Loki," she brayed softly and lowered her head. "Mum's the word." Then she shook her head and asked, "Does she know I can talk, or do I have to play the deaf and dumb animal again?"

"No. Marissa knows who and what I am and she knows you're no ordinary animals."

"Oh, good. I can't wait to meet her. I wonder if she knows what she's getting herself into?" the goat said slyly. "Maybe I ought to warn her."

I glared at her warningly, then began to strip off Heror's tack and rub him down.

A few minutes later I was joined by the others, and we all tended to our weary mounts, giving them a good grooming and a hot bran mash as a reward for carrying us uncomplainingly through two worlds.

Once the horses were seen to, I led the way into the cottage, where I was greeted by an overjoyed Ava.

"Master, you have returned!" the Nis cried, wrapping her little arms about my waist and hugging me hard. I was overwhelmed by the aroma of baking bread, a scent Nisses emit when they're extremely happy or worried. "You should have told me you were coming, then I'd have prepared a nice dinner for you all."

"Thanks, Ava, but that won't be necessary. Whatever we have on hand is fine. We have to leave in a few days."

Ava's face fell. "You're not staying?"

"Afraid not. Our quest isn't finished." I said regretfully. Norns only knew how much I wanted to remain here, where it was peaceful and safe. Risking life and limb and saving the world has never been one of my favorite things to do. "But I could use a nice hot cup of tea and some supper, if you wouldn't mind, Ava darling."

"Of course, Master Loki. Is Miss Belle with you?"

"She is. And so is Master Leif and a special human lady named Marissa Turner," I announced just as the others entered the cottage.

Ava nearly went white. "By the Great Acorn! You has invited a lady here and you don't tell me? And me with nothing to feed her but some old soup and bread!" She waved a scolding finger in my face. "Master Loki, you ought to be ashamed! How could you do this to me?"

Before I could tell her not to go off half-cocked, she'd vanished into the kitchen. I could hear pots and pans rattling and the Nis muttering several uncomplimentary things about employers who didn't have the decency to give a cook some warning when they were bringing home Important People for dinner.

Marissa and Belle gazed at me in puzzlement and I shrugged and explained, "Ava's mad at me for not telling her I was bringing home guests. She's in the kitchen right now whipping up some culinary masterpiece of Nis renown."

"But that's not necessary," Marissa protested. "Honest, Loki, I'll eat anything, I'm not picky. There's no need for her to put herself out."

"Ava's a Nis, Marissa," Belle grinned. "They live to put themselves out for their masters."

"Belle's right. Nisses aren't happy unless they're working." Leif added.

"Master? Do you mean to tell me you own her?" Marissa asked, frowning in disapproval.

"No, not in the sense you mean. Ava's not a slave, she's free to come and go as she pleases," I hastened to reassure her. "But a Nis is never happy unless he or she is employed in a house. You pay them with shelter and food and in return they keep your house tidy and cook for you. Ava calls me "master" as a sign of respect, not because I demand it. If anything, she bosses me around sometimes."

Belle and Marissa seemed quite pleased when I said that, don't ask me why. Women! No man will ever understand them, I fear. I guess that's part of their charm though.