Notes: In which Loki contemplates what one does after securing one's own oxygen mask, and progress is made in various directions. Also, it is not always entirely convenient to have housemates.

Warnings: This is another long one. Also, I keep finding gaps in my knowledge of Annie's life in Bristol. Therefore, there's more made-up stuff in this chapter, because I can't figure out if certain stuff was there and I missed it, or if it never came up in the show. I apologize for inconsistencies this might introduce.

Chapter Thirteen

True to his word (and he chose not to see any incongruity in that), Loki returned home shortly after four o'clock that afternoon, to find Annie, with Philip and Elizabeth trotting in her wake, pacing between the kitchen, the lounge, and the entry hall.

"How are you?" he asked, embracing her.

"Fine," she replied automatically, and then tightened her grip on him. "No. Not fine. Anxious. Angry. Scared. Hopeful- and I don't know where that's coming from. Where did you go last night?"

Loki would have pulled back to look at her, but she refused to loosen her arms. "Last night?" he temporized, speaking to the top of her head.

"Yes, last night. I heard you kind of fall out of bed, and then before I could get down the hall you were out the front door. What on earth was the matter?"

"Do we really wish to talk about me right now?"

"Yes. I was worried, and anyway right now, I need a distraction."

Loki gave in. "I had … an unpleasant dream, in which I was standing over Thor after having murdered him." No need to bring up the matter of the stairs, or the comparison it invited. "And it occurred to me- well, actually, it had been occurring to me all evening- that as much as Thor and I have talked about… everything I did… I had never actually asked him how he felt about it all. And as far as I recall, he has never volunteered." There was a twisty feeling in the pit of his stomach as he thought about what that could mean.

"No, I suppose he wouldn't," Annie agreed, and now she did loosen her arms, taking hold of his hands instead, and step back to look into his face. "He might have felt like it wouldn't be fair." Loki flinched, and Annie pressed on, "So you went to Asgard? In the middle of the night?"

"Yes, and now I think about it, I am very grateful that Jane Foster does not make a habit of doing so, because it never crossed my mind to imagine Thor would not be alone." Loki paused to consider the possibilities, cringed, and went rapidly on, "At any rate, I pounded on his door and woke him up to ask him my question."

"And?" Annie prodded, when Loki stopped again.

"And…" Loki hesitated, and went on slowly, "I used to believe I was the only member of my family who told lies. I thought it was one of the differences between me and them."

"And it isn't?"

"No. The difference is more the… the type of lie, and the motivation behind it." Annie waited, and after another moment Loki went on, "He told me he had been angry, and a little hurt, but is now quite recovered, and I am not to worry about it. I cannot help thinking it cannot be quite so simple."

Annie forbore to point out that, to Loki, nothing was ever simple, probably because this specific thing really was not. She looked thoughtful.

"Well, maybe he really believes it," she offered. Loki gave her another questioning frown. "Come on, Loki. If nobody ever helped you figure out what you were feeling, what makes you think it would have been any different for Thor? It might even have been worse for him, in a way, all golden and favoured and expected to set a heroic example to everyone and never show weakness. Don't you start feeling guilty again, but that really is an awful lot to live up to."

"He said the same thing," Loki admitted. "Although he was specifically referring to my needs when he did."

"Well, you know, maybe he still is. Referring to your needs. He might not think it would be fair to burden you with his feelings- or he might not even know what he feels. Me, I used to just get headaches and stomachaches, and now- " she glanced at the bookshelf, and Loki automatically cast a stay-where-you-are spell on the naval history. Once she was assured the book would not be making another flight across the lounge, Annie completed her thought: "We already know Thor feels bad about how he used to treat you- whether that's fair or not," she forestalled a protest from Loki. "But I wouldn't be one bit surprised to find out he also feels pretty bad about how he was treated, too. And maybe he can't admit it. Maybe he feels guilty because he thinks you had it worse. Or, like I said- maybe he honestly doesn't know how he feels. And if that's the case, he probably can't talk about it, either."

"But how can I help him, if he will not speak of it?" Loki pleaded. Had it not been for Odin's spell, Loki knew he would have been in the very same miserable state. He did not wish that for his brother. On the other hand, he also could not very well push Thor from the Bifrost, throw a handful of magic after him, and hope for the best.

"I suppose you'll just have to ask him," Annie suggested. "And… ask again if you have to. You know how it is." Loki did: the first time such a question was asked, perhaps you would not know how to answer, and then you might be left hoping someone would think to ask it again, after you had found the words you wished to say.

It was possible to be left for a long time, hoping.

Annie patted his hand. "The other thing is, you should probably tell Jane you're worried about him. He might find it easier to talk to her, the way you could talk to the boys and me before you could to Thor."

Loki chewed his lip. Annie was, as usual, correct. The only problem was, Jane no longer hated him, and he did not want to remind her that she once, and for good reason, had.

Still, for Thor…

"That is a good idea," he said, before he could lose all his courage. "I will send her a message."

"Do that," Annie urged, then added, "It'll be all right. You and Thor are a lot alike, and remember, you did the same thing, when you came to us: started off by telling us what you did wrong. You only talked about what was done to you later. He'll get there. Be patient."

"I should have… long ago," Loki muttered, shamed.

"Don't," Annie warned. "Don't make me get the water bottle. How many times have you made excuses for Thor leaving you behind when you were kids? Because he was trying to save himself? Well, that cuts both ways. You couldn't do this before. And now you can, and you are. All right?"

"All right," Loki reluctantly agreed.

And just at that, there was a knock at the door. Loki smiled at Annie and tightened his grip on her hands.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready."

~oOo~

"Are you sure I may not assist you?" Loki asked, from his seat on the steps leading down to the cellar. Two floors above him, Philip and Elizabeth scrabbled at the closed door of his bedchamber and wept over their imprisonment. Loki reminded himself that they would recover, as they did every morning when another door was shut against them while he bathed- having once had a cat join him in the bath, Loki wished never to repeat the experience. And besides, they would surely not like cold water.

At the moment, of course, he simply wanted to keep them as far away from Owen as he could manage without actually removing them from the house.

In the cellar below, Owen clanked and rattled at the hot water heater. "No, no, I'm fine," the man insisted, and Loki smiled his acquiescence.

It was as well the matter of the boiler was merely an excuse: it was abundantly clear that Owen was no more skilled in home repair than Loki and his friends, and had not even noticed the parts Loki had moved around.

"He always did overestimate his own abilities," Annie remarked dryly, as she sat next to Loki with her arms wrapped around her knees. "About everything, now I think of it."

Loki glanced at Annie out of the corner of his eye, concluded the comment was intended to sound as improper as he thought it did, and stifled a giggle. Owen did not appear to notice that, either.

It was unkind to bait the human, but since he did not care, and also it might take his mind off the even worse things he wanted to do to Owen, and anyway it was part of the plan, Loki remarked ingenuously,

"I fear I am not what is called 'handy,' and I do not really understand the workings of that device. Where I come from, much of our hot water is obtained from hot springs." He considered adding, "or magic," but decided that, while true, the comment was perhaps excessive.

His gambit had the intended effect anyway: Owen glanced back at him and said, "You're not from around here."

"I am not," Loki agreed. Only a few days ago, misunderstanding the laws which protected the tenants of rented premises, he had wanted to avoid bringing this information to Owen's attention. Now, it was a peripheral but satisfying part of the plan. "You may be aware that I am a citizen of the realm of Asgard- as is my older brother, Thor. You have perhaps heard of Thor?" he pressed on, with a smile of bright innocence that, on Asgard, would cause those seeing it to check the contents of their pockets and ensure their backs were guarded.

"He's one of the Avengers, right?" Owen said, and Loki did not have to be the God of Mischief (which, of course, he technically was not) to hear the misgiving in the words.

"Yes, that is he," Loki replied happily. "He has found his calling among those heroes, which is most pleasing to our parents. It is true he also is heir to the throne of Asgard, but our father is hale, and it is so important, do you not think, for the heir to engage in meaningful employment rather than simply waiting around? Like Prince William and his search-and-rescue activities? I should also speak of his father Prince Charles, but I am nearly convinced the Queen will outlive all her children- as, indeed, may our own father." Loki permitted an expression of thoughtful discovery to seep across his face. "Truly, now I think of it, there is considerable similarity between Prince William's occupation and that of my brother. Except, of course, the circumstances under which they are called upon."

"Your brother mostly gets called in to save the world," Owen offered, his shoulders more tense than they had been.

"Oh, no, no, not at all," Loki replied, in kindly amusement. "He, like William, is frequently tasked with rescuing the innocent from harm. It is just that in the case of Thor and his comrades, the harm generally comes in the form of some malign force or miscreant, as opposed to weather or other natural causes. And that, of course, is where the avenging comes in." He paused, an artistic expression of nostalgic contemplation crossing his face. "It really is just as well Thor has learned to control his temper somewhat. When we were children, it could be ferocious. I recall a time when he caught an older child tormenting a puppy," Loki went on mendaciously. The specific story was untrue- Asgard's kennel master was far too careful of his charges- but Loki felt no guilt for the lie. It was exactly the sort of thing his brother would have done, and anyway it suited his current purpose. "He administered a terrible thrashing. His friends were finally forced to drag him away. Thor has ever been fierce in the protection of any who were younger or smaller or in any way helpless."

"Must have been nice, to have a big brother like that looking out for you," Owen offered, appearing more uneasy by the minute.

"It was indeed," Loki replied, without flinching. "As I say, Thor has since learned more control of his temper, but, to this day, when he learns of anyone wronging or harming someone weaker or smaller than themselves, his fury can really be terrible. I believe his friend Captain America is sometimes compelled to remind him of the laws that govern the realm of the United States- although, of course, it is also true that Captain America became what he is now, at least in part, because he cannot abide bullies."

"I think this is all I can do for today," Owen said abruptly, having accomplished absolutely nothing in the way of boiler repair. "I'll have to get some new parts and come back later in the week. Is that all right?"

"Certainly, if it must be so," Loki replied, with a fine show of being a good sport. "I do hope you have identified the trouble?"

"Oh, sure," Owen said, and such was his self-assurance on this point that, had he not known better, even Loki might have had difficulty spotting the lie. Interesting. "Won't take anytime at all, once I get the parts. Should we say Thursday?"

Loki agreed, then led the way up the stairs to the main floor of the house, offering beer or tea as refreshment. Owen refused both:

"No, I should be getting home. My… partner… Janey, will be waiting tea for me." Beside Loki, Annie stiffened, but none of the fixtures took flight.

"Ah. Well, in that case, I will not keep you," Loki said affably. By this time they were in the entry hall, and behind Loki, Annie took up her agreed-upon position, in the shadows in the bend of the staircase. Loki extended a hand to Owen to shake.

He felt one galvanic shock, when Owen glimpsed his dead fiancée over Loki's shoulder, but Owen mastered himself almost before Annie disappeared, fading away artistically as she went up the stairs. A moment later, the man was out the door, leaving the ghost and the sorcerer behind.

There was no time to discuss their impressions. Loki kissed Annie quickly, reminded her of the doors and windows that must be opened and closed and opened again.

Then he opened the window to one side of the front door, just a few inches, and raised the screen.

A moment later, his clothing fell empty to the floor, and a starling was left perched on the windowsill. It spread its wings and flew away.

~oOo~

Loki was in luck, of a sort: it turned out Owen lived within walking distance of the pink house, and so the starling form was readily able to follow him. Within the starling, Loki was not at all happy about this proximity, but decided to consider one problem at a time.

The dwelling Owen approached was on another terrace, this one newer than the one where Loki and his friends lived, and not nearly as shabby. It was a perfectly pleasant, innocuous sort of place, and Loki found himself hating everything about the whole street. Which might, of course, simply reflect the fact he was disposed to scorn any place where Owen felt welcome.

Owen let himself into a house in the middle of the terrace, and Loki flew to a bush in the tiny front garden. Once there, he fluffed his feathers around himself, then cast his mind out and felt for the inhabitants of the house.

Loki could not actually read minds, although at times he had been able to establish a crude form of communication with other creatures. He had made it work with ants (very simple, earnest little intelligences, willing to cooperate) and once- a memory edged in gold- with a real live rhinoceros (ponderously serious and thoughtful) but it took a high degree of concentration, and also was probably not terribly comfortable for the animal. As a result, he had only attempted such contact when it was a matter of life or death for someone, and had never even tried it with the kittens.

He had also never made an effort to communicate thus with humans or Aesir: their minds were more complicated and far more guarded, and Loki did not feel there was much chance of success, at least not with an adult. He could, however, form an impression of the mood or intent of a nearby mind, an ability which could be extremely useful.

He groped for the minds inside the house, and found two. One was impatient, domineering- he could feel it harrying the second mind, driving the other as though pursuing it from one room of the little house to another. Loki could not tell whether the pursuit was literal, or whether it was more in the sense of having no safe place of one's own.

The domineering mind was definitely Owen: Loki could feel a sort of mental outline that matched the impression he had felt in the house. The anxiety Loki had engendered, with his talk of Avengers who protected the weak, was still there. There were, however, subtle differences now, an extra helping of anger and impatience, a feeling of the mind looking for something to rebuke or punish, as though to take out its distress on another. Loki carefully pushed aside a further, dual, sense of familiarity, and tried to concentrate on the second consciousness.

Prey. He felt the second mind scurrying as though in circles within its skull, cowering and placating. The effect on the first mind would be rather the same as the effect, on a predator, of seeing some little creature crippled and whimpering, trying to drag itself to safety. Loki clung to his starling form with sudden difficulty: he had, for a moment, the nearly overpowering urge to let go of it, to feel cold and blue surge through his body and see how Owen liked it when a burly naked Jotun kicked in his front door and seized him by the throat.

Yes, well, that would not benefit anyone, particularly not the reputation of the Jotnar here in Britain. And it would certainly only terrify Owen's victim. Loki tried to calm the hammering of his heart, and then felt the dominant mind settle a little and for the moment do no harm. That was not especially comforting to Loki, since he was certain the calming effect had been brought about by the second mind's appeasement of the other, its utter capitulation.

There was, as far as Loki could tell, for the moment no physical danger. The second mind- which had to belong to this "Janey" to whom Owen had referred, who in turn had to be the "Janey Harris" whose very name annoyed Annie so- would probably not be harmed any further today. Might not be physically injured, ever.

Might never be grabbed in a rage and thrown down a flight of stairs to her death.

But there were other means of destruction, means which left the victim in a condition to provide years- centuries- of amusement to its tormenter.

Annie had been badly hurt by Owen, was still dealing with the damage he had done to her, would still need to be supported in that task. But- she was safe from him now. He could no longer harm her: she had sat next to Loki on the stairs, watching Owen pretend to knowledge and skills he did not have, and her reaction had been, not fear, but something like the contempt he deserved. Annie, who had walked into a supervillain's lair to find those in need of assistance, who had faced the king of Jotunheim and had seen only a reasonable creature deserving of respect- Annie could not be frightened by such a pitiful excuse for a human as this Owen.

Janey Harris, on the other hand, was still vulnerable to everything Owen might choose to do to her. It was abundantly clear that Annie did not like her, and it seemed probable that her behaviour had not been beyond reproach while Annie was alive, but none of that meant she should be allowed to live, and possibly die, in the same fear and… humiliation… endured by Annie. She did not deserve, whatever her own failings, to become prey for the likes of Owen.

Very well. Loki could feel his head begin to pound with the effort of retaining this tiny form, and he knew it was time to return home. He would consult Annie, would see whether her attitude toward Owen had altered, would form his own plans to honour hers. But he would also keep this Janey in mind, see to it that whatever they decided to do to Owen, she was not incidentally harmed. Perhaps she was only weak, or lonely, vulnerable to Owen's plausible attentions. Perhaps she was otherwise well-intentioned and… nice.

And even if she was not, even if she had schemed with Owen to betray Annie- though surely not to kill her- even if she had believed herself clever for making a fool of her rival, she did not deserve to live in the kind of constant apprehension she did now.

Probably.

And it was not Loki's place to make such a judgment anyway. No, Janey would as far as possible be exempted from whatever happened to Owen, and would have to make her own peace with whatever her own actions and intentions had been.

Loki drew his concentration from the house back into his own mind, and flew from the bush toward his home, where an open window waited for him.

~oOo~

Loki landed on the windowsill, paused, and peered around to ensure his bedchamber was empty and the door closed: he had as little desire to make an accidental exhibition of himself as he did to be pounced on by his own pets. Finding the coast clear, he fluttered down onto his bed, and a moment later was in his usual form. The clothing he had been wearing earlier now reposed in his laundry basket, where Annie had presumably put it, so after he closed the window Loki found fresh garb and got dressed.

He was in trousers and shirt, pulling on his socks, when from outside the closed door he heard piteous mewing, and the sound of tiny claws scrabbling on the wood. Still sitting on the edge of his bed, Loki leaned forward and opened the door. Philip and Elizabeth spilled into the little room, squeaking loudly, and scrambled up Loki's shins into his lap. Loki was scratching their heads, apologizing for his abandonment and for shutting them up, away from the bad man- the words sounded ironic even to him, although the kittens did not seem to think so- when Annie appeared in the doorway.

"You're back," she stated the obvious.

"Yes," Loki agreed sheepishly. "I was just about to come looking for you." He gently tipped the kittens onto the bed, leaned forward to avoid bumping his head, and stood. It was cold in the room, and Loki was not at all sorry to follow Annie back downstairs to the lounge. A few moments later they were both sitting on the sofa- all four of them, when you included a lapful of kittens- and Loki was drinking a cup of tea while he described the route he had taken to Owen's new house.

"Was Janey there?" Annie asked, looking down at her hands.

"I believe so," Loki replied gently. "I did not enter the house, but I had the sense of a second mind within."

"Janey's," Annie said flatly, finally looking up at him.

"I believe so," Loki repeated.

"Or maybe it was a goldfish," Annie muttered. "They've probably got the same IQ." Loki raised an eyebrow and she looked sheepish. "I'm sorry, that really was bitchy of me."

"Understandable," Loki murmured. "But she is not happy with him. You must not think she has won. I believe she is… afraid."

"Oh, no," Annie murmured, going pale. "He's doing the same thing to her, isn't he?"

Loki nodded. "I know you wanted to believe the best of him, to believe he might feel regret for what he did, but... it seems unlikely, Annie. I am so sorry."

"Not your fault," Annie said. Loki sent the mug of tea to sit on the coffee table and wrapped an arm around her. Annie leaned against his shoulder. "I suppose it was bound to happen: once I was gone, who was he going to push around? And poor Janey, she didn't have much more going for her than I did. When I knew her, she worked at a tanning salon and she was always orange."

Loki nuzzled her hair. "I was unable to form an opinion concerning Janey, but I would challenge your assertion that you did not 'have much going for you'."

"Oh, well," Annie said. "I mean, I wasn't working, I didn't really have any outside interests, I was just trying to get the house set up and the wedding planned, so I wasn't exactly the most interesting company- "

"Wait, wait, wait," Loki interrupted, ruthlessly overrunning her words in a most unaccustomed fashion. "And exactly why were you so bereft of outside interests?"

Annie shrugged. "We had just moved here. Owen had… Owen came here for a job."

"All right. Owen had a job, where he met new friends. And you were new to the city, were mostly at home looking after the house, and so did not meet any people who were not introduced to you by Owen." A thought struck him, a memory of something her mother had said. "And what was it like before you came to Bristol?"

"I was a student," Annie said. "But the people in my classes… Owen didn't like them. He didn't get along with my friends or my sister. I didn't see the other students outside of class, and… it was hard to catch up with my sister…"

"And your parents?" Loki asked gently.

"He liked them. We just… we never seemed to find time to visit them. Or we'd make plans, and then something would come up."

"Owen would be unable to go, and you would stay with him?" Loki guessed. Annie said nothing. Loki pushed a little harder. "When you made plans with Owen's friends, did 'something come up'?"

"… No."

"Ah. I wonder whether Owen has also begun to find fault with the friends of Janey Harris? And if, perhaps, things 'come up' when plans have been made with those she loves?"

There was a pause. Loki could almost feel her letting herself realize the truth.

"He was doing it on purpose," Annie finally whispered, her shoulders going slack. And then, unexpectedly, and to Loki's utter horror, she said, "I'm such an idiot. How could I have let him manipulate me like that?"

Tightening his arm and turning toward her- which caused the kittens to abandon his lap for the armchair- Loki protested, "Wait a moment. You cannot possibly think it is your fault that he manipulated you. That is not fair- you were lonely, and he is plausible, and- "

"- And he told me that he loved me," Annie said softly, while everything in the house seemed to tremble.

"And that was a lie," Loki said quietly, although he knew, and he knew Annie knew, the truth was probably a great deal more complicated.

"Yes," Annie agreed, almost inaudibly. Loki wrapped his other arm around her and held her close, aware in the back of his mind of gratitude that he could do so, that she had not become insubstantial and… defeated… again.

"It was his loss, Annie. Really, it was," Loki insisted helplessly, although he knew at this moment his reassurances were pointless: there was nothing he could say to comfort her.

So he kissed her.

Which definitely seemed to help, or at least provide a distraction. And, incidentally, did not do Loki's mental state any harm either. Things… rather went on from there.

Which, unfortunately, led to everyone getting quite a surprise when Mitchell and George- Loki had rather forgotten about them- came home from work some ten minutes later.

"Whoa!" Mitchell yelped, recoiling and throwing an arm over his eyes. He was possibly exaggerating his distress, but George's shriek of dismay certainly did not seem to be in any way embellished. Even as startled as he was, Loki thought the two of them were being overdramatic- he was, admittedly, considerably disheveled, but he was after all still fully clothed.

Not that he had the presence of mind to argue the point just then. It would have been nice if he could have claimed, later, to have retained his dignity under pressure, but the fact was, in his efforts to scramble to his feet he actually fell off the sofa.

"What are you doing?" demanded George- rather foolishly, really, since it must have been fairly evident. "We have to sit there!"

"George, you're exaggerating," Mitchell said, with commendable fairness, but there was a sparkle in his eyes that suggested Loki, for one, had not heard the last of this. And might not. Ever.

"Exaggerating?" George squawked, indignation pushing his voice into the upper registers.

"Exaggerating," Annie confirmed, displaying more poise than anyone else in the room. Of course, as a ghost, she was more or less impervious to dishevelment, which was unfair. And also rather frustrating. "And beginning to hurt my ears," she added. George made a noise suggesting someone had stepped on his tail- a comparison Loki for once had the wisdom to keep to himself- and threw his hands in the air.

"What would have happened if Nina had been with us?" he demanded.

"You would have learned a sharp lesson in the wisdom of providing advance warning before bringing mortals into our house," Loki replied with asperity, as he untangled himself from the coffee table and pulled himself back up onto the sofa next to Annie.

Who snapped, "Yes, really. We live here, after all. Well. You know what I mean."

Mitchell rubbed the bridge of his nose, George took off his spectacles and wiped them energetically with the tail of his shirt, and Loki made an effort to change the subject:

"Was your day pleasant?" he asked, and then buried his face in his hands as he recognized the opening he had just offered.

"Not as pleasant as yours," Mitchell sang.

"Don't bet on it," Annie spoke up, patting Loki on the back. "We had Owen over this afternoon."

"Owen?" George asked. "Did he fix the boiler?"

Annie made a rude noise, and Loki replied, "He made a variety of authoritative-sounding noises. I think our best plan is to give up on landlords, find a craftsman- excuse me, Annie, craftsperson- and pay for the repairs ourselves."

"I wonder if Tony Stark knows how to fix a hot water heater," Mitchell said thoughtfully.

"No, but I bet he knows how to convert one to a nuclear reactor," George replied.

"Like Tony Stark would have anything to do with nuclear power," Annie said, rolling her eyes. Loki glanced at her and then reached over to hold her hand. She gripped his tightly, and then after a few moments began to relax.

George and Mitchell were by now looking at Annie rather carefully. "Never mind the boiler," Mitchell said. "The hell with the boiler. Did he do anything… anything to upset you?"

"Apart from existing, and being inside my house, no," Annie admitted. The defensive outburst seemed to be passing off, and unfortunately so did any cheering effects of the recent… distraction.

"When he departed, I followed him home," Loki reported, then raised his free hand to forestall any worried questions. "I was a starling. He did not recognize me."

"Well, that's a relief," Mitchell muttered, dropping onto the other end of the sofa. "So Operation Haunt-the- Twat is about to begin?"

"Has done already," Annie said. "Loki told him all about Thor, Defender of the Weak, and then we arranged for him to catch a glimpse of me just as he was leaving." She almost smiled. "You should have seen his face."

"It was worth seeing," Loki contributed. "Were he inclined toward having a guilty conscience, that should have done it."

"Not so much?" Mitchell asked.

"No. And then he went home and bullied the woman with whom he now lives," Loki said. "I begin to think a little bullying of our own might be in order." He was looking at Annie as he said it, and she heaved a sigh.

"I think you might be right."

"Before we get to that, though," George spoke up, "Loki, have you gotten any of the messages Catherine Bennett sent you this afternoon?"

Loki blinked. "No. I left my phone in my jacket pocket, and now I think of it, between Owen's arrival and my little adventure in bird form, I have not looked at it in some hours."

"Well, when she couldn't reach you she texted Mitchell and then me," George said. "I assume you gave her our numbers?"

"She probably got yours off the lavatory wall," Mitchell suggested cheerily, looking at Annie out of the corner of one eye as he dropped onto the daybed opposite the sofa. "No, wait, that was me."

George ignored him and went on, "She wanted to know whether we had made any progress in rescuing the dog, and whether we might like some help. Boost the signal, as it were. So we agreed to meet her and Agnes tonight, at the ruin, for a little eye of newt."

"Shakespeare again," Mitchell said, when Loki looked puzzled. "We've got a couple of hours before they're expecting us and I'm starving, so why don't we see if there's enough of that macaroni cheese from last night to go around?"

~oOo~

Mitchell turned the car off the road and shut off the engine. A few minutes later another car pulled up behind them and its lights switched off. A moment later, Catherine Bennett was tapping on Mitchell's driver's side window, and the four friends got out of their car. Catherine had an electric torch, and Loki conjured a handful of green flames to provide additional light.

"It is very kind of you to help us like this," Loki started to say to both Catherine and Agnes, behind her- and then he was completely distracted by the third member of the party. "Hello, who is this?"

"This is Hardy," Agnes explained, with an expression of slightly disbelieving happiness, as she looked down at the large fluffy golden dog clinging to her left side. Her face, Loki thought, probably looked very much like his when he first contemplated Philip and Elizabeth.

"He is very handsome," Loki congratulated her, as he crouched to extend a hand to the dog. "In fact, except for his coat he looks quite a lot like Nelson. Is he also a Labrador?"

"No, he's a golden retriever," Agnes explained. "It's a… I suppose you would say, a related breed. Margaret came with me to the RSPCA and he was there." She leaned down to rub Hardy's ears. The dog wriggled with happiness and leaned against her leg, looking up at her in adoration. "He was found as a stray and nobody's claimed him, but he must have been someone's pet. He seems awfully grateful to be rescued."

"He is fortunate to have found you," Loki remarked, conscious the dog was not the only fortunate one in the dyad.

"His name," George spoke up. "Is that because he's- ?"

"Friends with Nelson. Yes," Agnes replied, and she sounded rather sheepish. Loki seemed to recall those names from the book of naval history. "And now I hope we can bring your dog home, too."

"I hope so too," Loki agreed. He reached into the back seat of the car and retrieved a plastic container, of the sort normally used to store leftover food, while George went to the trunk of the car and brought out the spade.

Hardy seemed happy to make the acquaintance of the ghost, the vampire, and the werewolf as well as the sorcerer. Loki recalled Nelson the Labrador having a similar attitude to those members of Loki's household he had met, and wondered again whether familiarity with Agnes Scott was responsible for this unusual level tolerance for supernatural beings, or whether it had something to do with being a retriever. He was beginning to suspect it was the latter.

He also wondered what Scamp would have to say having about another dog in her territory.

He had not long to wonder: long before their light sources illuminated the gateway of the churchyard, they could all hear excited yapping, and Hardy began to strain forward on his leash, tail held low and wagging vigorously. As soon as they passed through the gate, Scamp was bounding around Hardy, wriggling all over with apparent joy at the prospect of a new friend. Loki wondered how many dog walkers over the centuries had found their pets displaying strange behaviours when they came near the ruin.

The dogs were both disposed to be friendly, and Hardy to stay close to both Agnes and Scamp, so the witch eventually cast a spell of confinement and concealment, and released the retriever from his leash. The two dogs promptly began taking it in turns to chase each other around the grounds, and then to retrieve sticks and the red plastic ball when Annie and George threw them. Once or twice Hardy seemed inclined to pass through the gate and invite Mitchell, a lonely figure under a tree, to play with them, but the spell turned him gently back and besides, he seemed far more interested in his new ghostly dog-friend than in his new vampire-friend.

Agnes was finally able to pull her attention away from Hardy's antics, and turned to Loki and Catherine. The medium took the lead, asking,

"Have you had much success in scrying for bones?"

Loki shook his head, feeling guilty that circumstances over the past- was it really only two days?- had conspired to prevent him practicing the skill.

"I was able to locate what I believe are small caches of bones, but I was unable to see them very clearly," he admitted. "They could prove to be rocks, or… or the graves of children. Mitchell is very concerned, that I- I mean, I have been careful to pay them no disrespect," he corrected himself, and assumed an expression of earnest sincerity, eager to show his deference to this convention, despite the fact he really did not understand it.

Live children, or even the spirits of children, Loki would defend to his last spark of sorcery. But the empty graves and abandoned bones of those long since passed over? Remnants too long forsaken by their owners to be of use even in spellcasting? Loki found it very difficult to feel much concern for their fate, especially since, if he was mistaken, he intended to quickly re-inter any remains he happened to dig up. He fully grasped the necessity to not be caught at this activity, but he had the greatest of difficulty in understanding why, after all this time, it would matter. Everyone who had mourned these dead were themselves dead, and gone away.

Catherine and Agnes both eyed him in the cool greenish light of his magical flames, and Loki found himself trying not to squirm. After a long moment, however, Catherine smiled.

"Human sentiment doesn't always make sense," she said kindly.

"That is not only true of humans," Loki admitted, letting go of his façade of sincerity in favour of the genuine article. "I really do not understand the problem, but I have been trying to respect it. There are small white stones marking the sites where I have identified possible locations of Scamp's grave. Should we divide them up, and each concentrate our attention on those few?"

Agnes extended her hands to the other two. "I've done this sort of casting before, a time or two, when someone did not come back from hunting or gathering livestock. If you help me, I should be able to see clearly."

The three sorcerers formed a loose circle, holding hands, breathing deeply and evenly. After a moment Loki felt a sense of alien power brushing against his own. It was slightly reminiscent of an occasion when the Professor Charles Xavier had attempted an incursion into Loki's mind, but less intrusive: instead of pressing him, the power seemed to simply be asking for admittance. Loki thought this might be how the rhinoceros and the ants had felt, when Loki tried to contact them, and he resisted the instinct to slam all his doors. It took him a moment to offer a sense of real welcome, but he at least allowed his mind to open to the visitor.

A moment later, Loki felt energy, warm and shining, flowing from and into himself, through the circle created by their joined hands. He closed his eyes and let it happen.

And a moment after that, he had the impression he was floating, bobbing like a balloon on a string, being tugged after the glowing power. Loki did not ordinarily enjoy the feeling of being out of control, but he found himself quite relaxed, brightly curious, and eager to see what Agnes Scott would find.

The sensation of floating carried him gently across the churchyard, looking down at what seemed to be shapes shining from beneath the earth. Here was a collection of rocks, deposited by who knew what process. Here were tiny human skeletons, the little skulls oddly oversized compared to the features that made up their faces, vulnerable and alone in ways that were…wrong… for children. Looking down at them, Loki had a sense of regret, of apology. He was glad he had not disturbed them, after all.

And finally, halfway between the church wall and the fence, huddled in a formless pile, there was a clutch of even more delicate bones, glittering whitely. Just the way they lay, as though their wearer had been cast down carelessly, gave the clue- even before the shape of the skull, long-muzzled and with sharp teeth- declared itself.

"Oh," Loki heard his own voice coming from a great distance. "I think- that must be-"

It took him a moment to realize his voice was only sounding inside his head, but even so, he was not very surprised when he heard Agnes reply, "Yes. We seem to have found her."

And then his hands were released, and he and Catherine were looking at each other, startled and perhaps a little wobbly. Agnes was already striding across the churchyard, to where the spade was propped against the gate. Hardy rushed up to her, proudly displaying a stick in his mouth. Agnes paused to ruffle his ears, accepted the stick, and threw it for him to chase. Scamp ran after him, but when the human- bipedal- members of the party began to gather, the two dogs joined them.

"Have you got her?" Mitchell had come around the fence to stand as near the rest of the group as he could.

"I believe so," Agnes said, without looking up from the place she had marked as the location of the grave. Annie leaned down to pet Scamp's head, and George took a half-step forward that drew Agnes's attention. "I'm sorry," she said. "Do you want to- ?"

"Yes, please," George replied, and took the spade. Loki, remembering, went back to the gate and retrieved the plastic storage container.

Half an hour later, the small bones were carefully dug out- with hands when the spade was no longer capable of the fine work. The dirt was carefully brushed away, the bones retrieved, and laid out carefully on the dead autumn grass to try to ensure they were all accounted for.

Finally, Loki gathered them together and placed them in the plastic container. Pressed the lid into place, ensuring the edges were properly sealed, patted the square of sod in its old place on the refilled grave, and stood with the box in his hands. Scamp looked up at him, tentatively wagging her tail. Loki smiled down at her, feeling his breath come short.

"Shall we try again?" he asked.

The group walked around the church toward the gate, both dogs trotting in their wake, Scamp carrying her red plastic ball. As the rest of the party approached the gate, Scamp sat down in her usual place, dropping her ball between her front paws and looking wistful. Catherine walked out first, and then George. Annie took Loki's arm and they both- Loki carrying the container of bones- followed the other two.

"Come on, sweetie," Annie called gently. Scamp shuffled her feet, whined anxiously.

"Scamp, come with us," Loki echoed the sentiment. The ghost dog looked uneasy, but she had clearly learned the gate was an impassible obstacle. It was difficult to tell whether she still could not pass through, or whether she simply thought she could not.

And then Agnes called Hardy to her and snapped on his leash. The two of them went through the gate, and as he did Hardy turned back, woofed at his new friend, and bowed in an offer to play again.

Scamp picked up her red plastic ball and dashed through the gate after him.

There was a startled moment of silence, and then Annie scooped up Scamp, and Loki scooped up Annie, and everyone spent a moment hugging and jumping up and down.

Scamp sat on Annie's lap all the way home. Loki, the box of bones at his feet, had an arm around Annie and a sense of hope bubbling up in his heart.

Annie leaned against Loki, head resting against his shoulder. Without looking up from the eager little creature, who was looking out the window, she murmured,

"So there's one thing that's gone right."

Loki tightened his arm and pressed his lips against her hair.