Notes: Sources for info on the spell include Wikipedia and the Catholic Encyclopedia, but once again I'm making things up to suit myself. The scene between Owen and the housemates is pretty much verbatim from Being Human, aside from a few modifications to include Loki.
Warnings: None. For now.
Chapter Six
By the time Loki disembarked from the bus the following afternoon, he considered himself lucky not to have fallen asleep in the vehicle and awakened on the wrong side of the city entirely. Two largely-sleepless nights in a row were, he judged, at least one too many for a whatever-he-was of his age.
Even so, as he sent a text message and then hung around the street corner, waiting, Loki realized that, tired as he was, his mood was still cheerful. More than that. Indeed, he found himself filled with a ridiculous level of warm and kindly feeling toward… everyone. He loved all the creatures he saw passing by: humans and dogs on leashes, and birds chirping in the trees.
He had not slept the night before because there had seemed, somehow, to be a great many things for himself and Annie to speak of. In deference to the rest of the household, they had withdrawn outside. The late-autumn night being cold enough for bedroom windows to be closed along the terrace, it was therefore unlikely their quiet voices would disturb the slumber of either their housemates or the neighbours.
The night really was too chilly for Loki's comfort, but Annie, knowing as much, had transported herself to his box room. She had reappeared carrying the flowered quilt that spent its time folded accordion-fashion at the foot of his bed in case of emergency. Loki might have felt foolish, had there been anyone but Annie to see him, at the image of himself sitting on the steps wrapped in its cheerful folds. But there was no one to see but Annie, who was enfolded in the quilt with him- which was, of course, unnecessary, since Annie did not feel the cold. Necessity did not really come into it.
Annie being a physically cold presence, it perhaps did not make a great deal of sense for her to be with him inside his barricade against the temperature. Sense did not really come into it, either.
And so they had sat on the steps, and Annie had spoken of the plans she had when she moved into the house, the hopes and wishes she had for herself and Owen. It was much the same as the stories she had told him all those months ago, in another lifetime, immediately after he had bounced off her roof and crashed into her dustbins. The main difference was that now, instead of listening with uncomprehending devotion, like a pet, Loki was able to ask as well as listen and, more importantly, to understand the depth of the loss.
Annie, who rarely spoke of herself, who thought first of others, who was embarrassed to draw attention to her needs, had withdrawn with her memories and her grief as though ashamed of remembering or feeling them. Now she entrusted them to Loki, trusted him, and he held her in his arms as she did so.
They sat together as the sky lightened, beside the dustbins into which he had once fallen. Loki was filled with affection for the dustbins.
Now there was a rustle in the air beside him and he only just restrained himself from turning with the sort of smile on his face that would persuade any passerby that the dark-haired young man in the leather jacket had completely taken leave of his senses. He reached up to his left ear, in a gesture that, coupled with a small glamour, would make casual observers believe he was speaking on a cell phone with an ear device, and said,
"Hello, Annie."
Annie materialized beside him, took his arm, and reached up to kiss his cheek. "Hi. How was your day?" Looking mischievous, she added, "Not too tired, are you?"
"I think I will make an attempt to sleep through the entire night, tonight," Loki admitted. Then he smiled, glancing at her out of the corners of his eyes. "Unless, of course, you wish to talk again." Annie squeezed his arm, and Loki sobered. "And if you do, after Owen's visit, I hope you know that- "
"I do," she replied, continuing to hold his arm. "I will. I hope I won't, but I will. If you see what I mean." Loki smiled, and Annie said briskly, "We should go- Catherine will be wondering where we are."
Loki had rather shamefully neglected his work this morning. He had ducked into the upstairs boys' lavatory during classes, put up the "Closed For Cleaning" sign, and retrieved his little paperbound notebook from his back pocket. He flipped hastily through it, reviewing the notes he
had made in the library of Asgard (and incidentally a number of unskilled drawings he had made of Scamp, during his various pauses for thought.) An idea had occurred to him, and he dog-eared the pages containing the information he thought he would need to share.
Then he retrieved his mobile and sent a quick text message to Annie, who could not be heard on the telephone but possessed a mobile specifically in order to send and receive texts.
She responded almost immediately, agreeing to meet him, after he finished work for the day, at the tea room where an acquaintance of theirs could be found. Loki had then made a call to arrange the appointment, and now they were approaching the meeting-place.
Loki opened the door, paused as he pretended to glance at his mobile phone- a cover to humans who could not see Annie pass though the portal- then followed her.
They walked into the tea room to the welcome scents of fresh baking. Loki was quite sure he smelled cinnamon buns, and resolved to purchase some to bring home to Mitchell and George. The comestibles provided by the tea room were mostly suited to morning breaks or mid-afternoon snacks, and this late in the afternoon the tables were empty, rather than occupied by customers consuming tea or coffee accompanied by a baked treat.
This was not to say the shop was empty. There was a pleasant-faced young woman behind the glass display cases that constituted the counter. Loki paused to request and pay for half-a-dozen cinnamon buns. Then he and Annie made their way to the back corner of the shop, to the single currently-occupied table.
Catherine Bennett, medium and sorceress (as well as owner of the tea room, and originator of the cinnamon-bun recipe- which was all the proof anyone should need of her powers) sat at the table with a half-finished cup of tea before her. She looked up with a smile as Loki and Annie approached, and she was not alone.
"Good afternoon," Catherine said pleasantly, eyes flicking from Annie to Loki. "I think you remember Agnes Scott?"
Since Agnes Scott was the sorceress who, some weeks past, had enchanted Loki's brother into the form of a kitten- but later released him- Loki remembered her very well indeed. The incident had been resolved with no lasting harm to anyone- even Thor had eventually found it amusing, though Loki had chosen not to tell him why the spell had been cast, since that would only hurt his feelings- and Loki turned a friendly smile on the witch. Her intentions had been good, at least with regard to himself, and he now felt quite kindly disposed toward her, too.
"I do remember you," he agreed. "It is pleasant to see you again, and I hope you have been well." Annie expressed similar sentiments of friendship and greeting, and Agnes Scott looked slightly relieved, as though she had doubted her welcome among the friends and family of her recent sort-of victim.
"I have been," she agreed. "My human friends continue to be very kind to me. Margaret, who I think you remember- ?" Loki nodded: Margaret was the senior member of the group of humans who believed themselves to practice sorcery, though none of them knew of Agnes's true powers. They were, however, kind and welcoming, and Margaret herself, in addition to a motherly disposition, possessed a most delightful black Labrador by the name of Nelson, who would probably wag his tail at anyone short of invading Dire Wraiths.
"I do," Loki agreed.
"Margaret has almost convinced me that I should have a dog," Agnes explained. "She says there is nothing like coming home to a wagging tail."
Loki, for his part, would in the very recent past have declared a strong preference for a loud purr and a head rubbing against his ankles, but under the current circumstances he simply nodded his agreement. "I think anyone would enjoy such a greeting," he said. "Will you also choose a Labrador?"
"Margaret has offered to come to the RSPCA with me, to see what sort of dogs need a home. She referred to it as 'rescue,'" Agnes explained. "And I think, if I understood the message Catherine passed along from you, that might bring us nicely to the purpose of this meeting."
"And so it does," Loki agreed, pulling the notebook from his pocket and laying it upon the table. "Should we review the circumstances before we proceed?"
"I think that would be a good idea," Catherine agreed. "Just to make sure we all understand things in the same way."
Between the two of them, Loki and Annie told the story of the ghost dog, and of their initial fruitless efforts to rescue her.
"The problem does not appear to be iron," Loki finally summed up. "The texts I consulted in the library of Asgard were incomplete, but- "
"The library of Asgard has books about Earth magic?" Catherine asked, as though Loki had not already said so. Loki nodded. "Why would they- ?" Catherine let her words trail off, and Loki explained,
"The current librarian, who has held the position since the reign of my grandfather, holds it as his mission to collect all the knowledge of the Nine Realms and beyond."
"That must be a very large library," Catherine murmured. "I assume you use compact shelving?"
"Magic," Loki replied, and then, with a grin, added, "You might say it is bigger on the inside. There is even a book about the Beatles." Even Agnes Scott giggled at the jest- although it was perfectly true. Loki went on, "As I was saying, the references I consulted were incomplete- much of the magic of this time seems to have never been formally recorded. However, I was able to determine this much." He opened his notebook, flattening the pages under his hands. "The magic involved is said by some to be a holdover from older pagan beliefs, and was practiced by 'early' Christians." He glanced up. "I have been unable to determine exactly how 'early' are the dates being referred to. At any rate, apparently there was a belief that the first man buried in a graveyard was cursed to forever protect it from evil spirits. The business with the dog was intended to circumvent that necessity, leaving the human spirits in peace: the poor dog is trapped as a guardian of these souls." Plaintively, Loki added, "I do not understand the purpose behind this. Do not the spirits of humans immediately pass through a symbolic door, bound for whatever afterlife awaits?"
"They do, mostly," Annie agreed, and of course Annie would know.
"Yes," Agnes said, "but most of us don't know that until we die for ourselves. Before the Middle Ages, the predominant belief was that the dead were… sleeping, really, waiting for the resurrection of both body and soul at the end of time."
"That idea held on for a long time," Elizabeth contributed. "In fact, it's still held by some faiths. That was one of the reasons for resistance to cremation in some places- it's only been legal in England for a little over a hundred years."
"Ah," Loki murmured. Funerals in Asgard generally involved a flaming pyre, and possibly the dead individual's household goods being burned along with the corpse. Loki had occasionally wondered whether he would himself awaken in some afterlife- not Valhalla of course, but something- surrounded by the ghosts of his own spell books. Given that he no longer knew what manner of afterlife he should look ahead to, Loki now tried not to think about it.
"What we're wondering," Annie said, "is, what is it that keeps the dog's spirit tied to the location? Like Loki said, at first we thought it was the iron fence, but that doesn't seem to be right."
"No," Agnes said thoughtfully, "it wouldn't be that. The ruin you're talking about probably isn't even the church that was on the site when the enchantment was laid, and there wouldn't have been an iron fence back then."
"Is it the business of hallowed ground?" Loki asked. "Mitchell, our friend who is a vampire, was unable to accompany us into the churchyard because the ground was hallowed. Could that be what ties the dog to the spot?" He hesitated. "And if that is so, how can we change it?"
"You can't," Agnes, the former religious, said decidedly. "The diocese can formally declare a church building to be no longer consecrated, if it's turned over for secular use. Also, if the church falls into disuse or disrepair it's eventually, in effect, no longer consecrated. But a graveyard can't 'fall into disuse' as long as the dead are still buried there, so it would have to be deliberately deconsecrated- which is unlikely. Among other things, it would be discourteous to the dead."
Loki felt his shoulders slump, and the bubble of happiness that had carried him through the day evaporated. "So you are telling us there is nothing we can do?" Annie reached over and took his hand.
"Actually, I'm not," Agnes replied. "I don't think consecration has anything to do with it. It's old pagan magic, so I think it's probably connected to the bones."
Loki sat up straight again. "Really? So… do you think… "
"Disinter the bones, and you'll probably free her," Agnes said. "I would imagine the biggest of your problems will be finding one specific set of bones in a cemetery, but once you do…"
Loki turned to Annie, and knew the hope in her face reflected that on his own.
~oOo~
It seemed almost unbelievable, but both Loki and Annie had quite forgotten, until they got home, that any other important event was planned for this day.
They were reminded of it when they walked into the house and found George and Mitchell rushing around, tidying and dusting and generally sprucing up the place.
"Loki, is the catbox clean?" George demanded, as Loki came through the door.
"Of course it is," Loki replied, puzzled and a little offended. "At least, I left it clean this morning, and will attend to it as soon as I am properly inside the house once again. Are you accusing me of neglecting my responsibilities?"
"Of course not," Mitchell said hastily, flapping a duster at George. "And Owen isn't coming here to criticize our housekeeping- "
"Owen," Loki said, blankly. Then- "Owen!"
"Yes, Loki," Mitchell said, looking cautiously at Loki as though he expected him to begin foaming at the mouth. Loki ignored him and turned to Annie.
"Are you sure you are- ?" he began.
Annie reached up and kissed him quickly on the lips. "I'm sure. I'm fine. I just need to see him again. To sort of say goodbye."
George looked at her in a panic. Really, it was very strange to see George losing his head in this manner- he was highly-strung, it was true, but now he really seemed to have lost his mind. "You can't come in when he's here! What if he sees you?"
Annie rolled her eyes. "He's not a vampire, George. He won't be able to see me."
"But he had… you had a connection," George wailed. "Perhaps he can. Loki, tell her."
Loki raised both hands in a gesture of repudiation. "I have no role in this," he said firmly. "This is for Annie to decide, and to do."
Mitchell cast a searching look at Loki, who met it levelly. Mitchell then turned to Annie. "Really? Are you going to be okay?"
"I'll be fine," Annie insisted. "I need to do this, and then it'll be over. George, I'll go upstairs and peek over the railing. He can't see me anyway, but he won't see me. Calm down."
"Yes, George, for the love of God calm down," said Mitchell, in a tone that suggested he had probably been saying that at intervals for several hours.
George started to splutter again and Loki resisted the urge to place a placatory enchantment upon him. A small one. Just because there was no time to rush out and purchase tranquilizing drugs.
"What is the matter with you?" he demanded. George waved his hands in the air.
"We never have… strangers. Humans, I mean, not superheroes or aliens or… And, and- it's his house! If we do something to tip him off to what we are, he could put us out in the street!" he wailed.
Loki looked at him in dawning horror. All right, being rendered homeless in Bristol, when one was employed and possessed friends, was not precisely the same thing as banishment or casting oneself into a void. All the same, he did not want to be compelled to leave the pink house where they were all so happy. Mitchell glanced at Loki's face and spoke up hastily,
"That's not how tenancy law works, George, and besides, nothing is going to tip him off. Calm down."
"He may have heard of, of our connection to the Avengers, though," Loki pointed out, suddenly anxious. "If so, he will be aware that I am an alien."
"Yes," Mitchell said soothingly. "A very powerful magical alien, whose brother can call down lightning strikes big enough to take down a helicarrier. He's not going to throw you out in the street, or your harmless human buddies." George made a noise that sounded rather like a dog whose tail had been stepped on, and Mitchell gestured at him desperately. "Calm down, George. Really."
A thought occurred to Loki, driving George's panic right out of his mind. "Annie," he asked, "do you wish for Owen to be able to speak to you?" She stared at him, clearly puzzled, and Loki clarified, "We are acquainted with a medium, yes? Owen will surely speak of you. Would you like for us to recommend he consult her?"
Annie hesitated, brow furrowed in thought. Loki had a moment to reflect on exactly how adorable she looked when she was deep in thought, and then she replied, "Let me think about that. I'll… think about it. Maybe."
"Maybe," George wailed. "Maybe. Maybe we'll wake up tomorrow and there'll be a mob with torches and pitchforks on our doorstep."
"So long as it still is our doorstep," Loki reminded him. George made the tail-stepped-on noise again.
And just at that, there came a knock at the door. Annie started at the sound, and then turned to Loki.
"If you can work it into the conversation, ask if my sister has ever had a baby. She and her husband have been trying for years. I blame her husband- Robin. Works at the post office." Annie rolled her eyes. Another knock sounded, George whimpered in panic, Annie kissed Loki swiftly, and then she vanished.
Loki sat down in the armchair as Mitchell started toward the door. George made a dash for it as well, saying urgently, "Don't forget about the boiler. No, I'll mention it. In fact, you had best let me do the talking."
Loki could not see Mitchell's face, but he could tell by the set of his shoulders that the vampire was rolling his eyes. George glanced over at Loki, who found it within himself to smile encouragingly. Even in his state of near-hysteria, George looked puzzled, and Loki could not blame him: only moments ago, Loki had been in quite a state about the prospect of Owen's arrival, and now he felt perfectly calm.
More than calm. He felt kindly disposed toward Owen, and deeply sympathetic. Annie belonged to her new life- afterlife- now, and Owen had lost her. Loki was astonished to find within himself not any sort of miserable triumph, but genuine compassion. He did not use "lost" in the sense of "win or lose," but in the sense of… of desolation.
Loki had always felt for Annie's family and friends, although he did not know them, at least whenever he thought of them. He could hardly even imagine the grief that must be felt by her parents: his own mother and father had been terribly upset when they believed they had lost him, and he was certainly not Annie. Owen's sorrow must be second only to theirs. It had been nearly three years since her death, but even given a brief mortal lifespan, that was nothing like long enough to get over a loss of such magnitude. Loki found himself astonished at how genuinely sorry he felt for Owen.
Mitchell, at the door, cast a ferocious "pull yourself together!" look at George, and turned the doorknob. The kittens heard the door open, and came scampering from the kitchen to see who had come to visit them. Elizabeth hesitated at the sight of the stranger who entered, and then ducked under the armchair, to peer out at him from between Loki's feet. Her brother glanced back at her, which gave Loki a chance to scoop him up as Mitchell ushered Owen into the lounge.
He looked nothing whatsoever like Colin Firth.
Loki managed to banish the ridiculous thought and get his expression under control before Owen turned to him with a smile. Mitchell performed the introductions, George squeaked, and Loki, in an effort to cover for his friend's ongoing panic, stood and extended the hand not containing a kitten to their landlord.
"I am pleased to meet you," he said, as warmly as possible, and Owen smiled back as he shook hands. Mitchell cast a desperate glance at George behind Owen's back, and from the top of the stairs there was the sound of something falling over. To Loki, it sounded like a mop being overturned in a bucket. George started violently, Owen gave him a mystified look, and Mitchell said loudly,
"George, why don't you go and see what that was?"
"Yes, thank you Mitchell- " George trailed off and bolted for the stairs, Owen looking extremely puzzled as he gazed after him. Loki took the opportunity to covertly study Annie's former beloved. He was about as tall as Mitchell, equally dark as to hair and eyes, and though he was not nearly as strikingly handsome as Mitchell, Loki was capable of enough fairness to admit he was attractive. He had the sort of kind eyes Annie would naturally be drawn to. They would have made a lovely couple, Loki thought sadly.
Mitchell spoke up, apparently intent on distracting their landlord from the peculiar behaviour of one of his tenants:
"Can I get you a drink, Owen? Tea, coffee, couple of beers in the fridge- ?"
Owen turned to him, smiling in relief at the normalcy of the question. "Actually, I wouldn't mind a beer, thanks."
"I will- one moment," Loki murmured, set down the kitten, and went off to retrieve the beverages. Philip scampered after, scurrying under Loki's feet as he walked toward the refrigerator. Loki glanced down and whispered, "You will not be happy until I step on you, will you?" Philip mewed and bumped himself against Loki's leg. Loki felt it a minor triumph that he managed to return to the lounge without dropping a bottle or stepping on the kitten.
When he got there, he was a little surprised to see George had still not returned, and then he realized Annie must have seen George's hysteria, and made the noise expecting Mitchell to send him to investigate. She must even now be trying to calm him upstairs. Loki turned his smile at the thought toward the two men who remained in the lounge.
Mitchell was sitting on one end of the sofa, explaining about the boiler and its habit of leaving them to bathe in cold water. Owen sat at the other end, promising to come have a look at it. Loki could only hope Owen actually knew something about home repairs, or they might end up in worse straits than ever. Elizabeth sat bolt upright between the two of them.
"Are you saying hello to our guest?" Loki asked her, in his talking-to-the-kittens voice. It was… an exceedingly fatuous voice, actually. Loki heard himself a beat too late to do anything about it, but then he realized that, if he wished to distract Owen from considering the idea he might perhaps be a powerful alien sorcerer, portraying (revealing?) himself as what Tony Stark might call a "cat nut" was a fairly effective way of going about it.
The next thing he noticed was that Owen seemed to be making a point of keeping his distance from Elizabeth. The kitten's expression was outraged, which could have reflected her opinion of his refusal to pet her. Or it could reflect the fact she was a kitten, and such expressions are remarkably common among kittens. Loki handed over the bottles of beer and picked her up.
"Sorry," Owen said sheepishly. "I'm really not a cat person."
"Ah," said Loki, for lack of anything more intelligent to offer. Surely Colin Firth was fond of cats. But he smiled, because Owen had suffered a loss and Loki meant to be kind to him, and settled back into the armchair with both kittens on his lap.
"Cheers," Mitchell said, gesturing to Loki with his bottle before touching the neck of it to Owen's.
"Cheers," Owen replied, and smiled at Loki. "Like I was telling Mitchell, it's such a relief having you guys here. It didn't work out with the last lot of people. I think they heard what happened and… let their imaginations run away with them." He glanced at Mitchell and then Loki, looking as if he regretted speaking. "You do know- about my fiancée?"
Mitchell shrugged. "A little. Just… what the estate agent said."
Owen turned away a little, one hand going to his face. "Yeah, I've hardly been back since. You can imagine, it's still kind of… weird… being here."
Mitchell looked at him with sympathy and interest. "What happened, exactly?- If you don't mind me asking."
Owen looked uncomfortable indeed, but he spoke. "Um… We'd literally just moved in- I mean, we were still living out of boxes. And… it was dark- I hadn't sorted the wiring out yet- and… she was at the top of the stairs… and… I dunno. They said she must have… fallen awkwardly or… something..."
Owen cast his eyes down, Mitchell continued to turn the full warmth of his sympathetic regard on him, and Loki felt his hands going cold around the beer bottle he held.
"What was she like?" he asked softly.
Owen looked at Loki, expression open and vulnerable. "Annie? Oh… she was… kind… funny… cleverer than she thought she was…" He looked down at his hands, with a wistful smile, and said quietly, "And she was mine."
There was a pause, then Loki set his beer down by his feet and gathered both kittens in his hands. Mitchell glanced at him, perhaps wondering if Loki was about to suggest the medium, then said gently, "I believe… people can leave an echo, in a place where they were. I know the tenants before us said they could detect something. Maybe that's what it was."
Owen frowned. "Well, they said it was creepy."
"It's not," Mitchell said quickly. "It's not creepy." He smiled. "It's good. It's happy. We like it." He had just turned, as if to solicit Loki's agreement, when George came back down the stairs.
Owen looked up at him with a smile. "What was it?"
"What?" George asked. "Ooh, um- " He turned to gesture awkwardly toward the stairs, and said, "It was… it was a pigeon."
Owen laughed in surprise. "A pigeon?"
"Must've left a window open," George said, nodding, with an overly earnest expression that one should not have to be the God of Mischief to know meant he was lying. Ineptly. For one who had for years been concealing his werewolf nature, George was a surprisingly maladroit dissembler.
"Well, have you got rid of it?" Owen asked, still half-laughing.
"I… killed it," George replied, with the air of saying the first thing that came into his head.
Loki kicked over his beer, and Mitchell and Owen nearly choked on theirs. Mitchell, with an expression of disbelief, echoed, "You killed it?"
George nodded, obviously wishing he had thought of something- anything- else and blurted feebly, "With a shoe."
There was a horribly awkward pause, in which Owen presumably considered whether he should call the RSPCA to report the incident, and George considered whether the floor might swallow him, and George's friends considered smiting him about the head and shoulders. Then Owen spluttered,
"You know what, I should… I gotta get going- "
"Yeah," Mitchell agreed in a hurry. There were noises of farewell, and of regret from George the presumed pigeon-slayer. Mitchell said, "It was lovely to meet you, Owen," and shook his hand. Loki nodded in farewell and then fled into the kitchen to find a tea towel before he was responsible for corrupting his kittens with alcohol and the RSPCA came to arrest him.
When he came back into the lounge, Mitchell had just closed the door behind Owen and turned to George with an expression indicating he did not know whether to administer a merciless beating or a merciless teasing. "How did you do that? Stay so calm?"
"Okay, shut up-" George attempted to defend himself, but Mitchell was ruthless.
"You're a spy, aren't you? I mean, you've clearly had training, because the way you held it together there, it was chilling." Mitchell turned to Loki and demanded, "Seriously, could you have done any better? Because I am quite sure I couldn't." Loki kept his eyes on the puddle he was wiping up, and Mitchell repeated, "Loki?"
Conscious that Annie would be on the stairs, Loki glanced up and shook his head. And then she was walking into the room with them, and Mitchell forgot both George and Loki to say, "You made him very happy. He loved you. You made him happy."
Annie smiled at him, teary yet peaceful. "I'm glad, but… he sounds like he's moving on, too, and I'm glad about that." She shook her head. "I think… he's someone I used to know. Isn't that strange?" she said, speaking directly to Loki. He smiled at her, stood- magicking away the wet tea towel as he did so- and stepped forward. Annie came to him and put her arms around him.
Loki did not like to lie to Annie, so he hoped she could not feel anything peculiar in his embrace. She was, for once, thinking mostly about her own reactions, and so she did not seem to.
But later that evening, when Loki came running past the place of worship on the street behind their house, he once again saw the flare of Mitchell's cigarette as his friend stepped out of a shadow. Loki pulled up to a walk.
"Mitchell?" he said, crossing the street to meet him.
"What's the matter?" Mitchell demanded. Loki blinked, and did not respond immediately. Apparently, this was admission enough, and so Mitchell pressed, "You went a little quiet and weird after Owen left. What is it?"
Loki was tempted to point out that weird was rather a relative term where he- or any of them- was concerned. Instead- since it was only themselves, and Annie was not here to be distressed- he said,
"There was… a lie there. In his words, I mean. He is a good liar, and I cannot tell you exactly what the untruth was, but… it was there."
Mitchell's brows drew together. "Loki, are you sure- ?"
Loki raised an eyebrow. "Mitchell, please. I know when someone is lying in my presence." Well, there was the matter of his parents, but surely he could not be blamed for failing to recognize a lie that had been told him since before he comprehended language. And at its heart… was it even a lie after all?
This was hardly the time to think about that. Loki went on hastily, "And humans are easy." He hesitated. "And besides… did it not make you uneasy, when Owen told us what his lost beloved was like?"
Mitchell looked puzzled. "He said she was kind, funny, clever- "
"And his," Loki emphasized. Mitchell opened his mouth, and then closed it. Loki went on, "Is that how one speaks of a person they love?"
"Loki," Mitchell said gently, after a moment, "think for a minute. How many times have you told us something is yours when what you really mean is, This is something I love and feel responsible for. You've described England like that. Maybe that's what he meant."
Loki was already shaking his head. "No, Mitchell. Imagine me describing this realm to one of Asgard. What would I say about it?" When Mitchell did not see to know how to respond, Loki answered his own question: "I might say it is welcoming, and confusing, and filled with kindly people. I might even call it a… a green and pleasant land. I cannot imagine any circumstances under which I would say it was mine. Not if someone asked me to describe what it is like. Would you describe a person you loved in such terms?"
Mitchell took a thoughtful drag on his cigarette and was silent for a long time. Finally, he said, "You really felt something fishy about him?" Loki nodded. Mitchell scruffed a hand back through his hair. "What are you going to do about it?"
Loki spread his hands helplessly. "Nothing, I suppose. Owen has nothing further to do with Annie. Her memories of him are happy, and there is no way he can harm her now. Besides- if I do not know what he is lying about, I cannot be sure there is even anything sinister about it."
Mitchell studied Loki thoughtfully. "But you really don't believe that, do you?"
"Why would he lie to us, whatever the lie might be? Why would he speak of her so? Does Annie not possess lovable qualities in abundance? If anyone asked me to describe her- "
Mitchell smiled. "Yeah, I'm sure it would take you a while to run out of things to say." Serious again, he asked, "You sure you're okay with hiding this from her?"
Ouch. "I am not really concealing anything," Loki protested. "I do not know. I am just… troubled. Were she alive, and still with Owen, I would speak up, or at least try to determine the source of my unease. As it is, I can see no reason to burden her."
Mitchell dropped the dog-end of his cigarette on the pavement, ground it out, and picked up the squashed remains to dispose of at home. "Okay. That makes sense. Have I gone and stirred you up, or are you going to be okay?"
"Okay, I think," Loki replied. "In fact, I think I am glad to have shared this with someone."
"Well, good," Mitchell said, with a smile. "Then let's go home."
He turned down the street, and Loki followed.