Notes: In which we borrow a bit from canon, and Annie realizes she is not Banquo's ghost. However (with luck) maybe Owen might possibly be Ebenezer Scrooge.
Warnings: This is certainly not a recommended method of introducing a new dog to kittens, but Loki doesn't know any better, and we know he can intervene if necessary. So let's go with it.
Chapter Fourteen
Scamp, having coped admirably with the car, also needed no coaxing to follow Annie into the pink house. Loki found himself wondering whether that was a reflection of Scamp's evident devotion to Annie, or whether she followed Annie because Annie was with Loki, and Loki was carrying the container of bones. It did not matter for the moment, of course, but Loki found himself hoping the confining spell had not simply followed the bones from the ruin to their home: he did not like the idea of Scamp trading one imprisonment for another.
Which, he admitted, made very little sense, considering the immutable rule that Philip and Elizabeth were not permitted out of the house. But they were kittens, and they were alive, and a city was filled with hazards to small living creatures. Loki hoped that, should Annie wish to stroll around the neighbourhood, Scamp would be able to accompany her, and not be confined to the house.
And speaking of creatures who were not allowed out of the house…
Like Thor's cat form before them, Elizabeth and Philip had no difficulty in seeing ghosts. They viewed Annie, for instance, with appropriate adoration.
It very quickly became apparent their attitude toward small canine ghosts was a great deal less loving. At the sight of Scamp at Annie's heel, Elizabeth- in the armchair- and Philip- on the back of the sofa- put on a display of arched backs and hissing that would have been impressive indeed, in creatures larger than a closed fist. Scamp stopped short, tail rising in a curl over her back, ears folded alertly forward, and looked intently at the kittens.
Then she took a step forward, uttering a tentative "wuff". Both kittens jumped from their perches and streaked underneath the sofa, growling ferociously.
Well, for a given value of "ferociously." They certainly gave it their very best effort. Scamp, for her part, lowered her head, and her tail began to wag. She tiptoed to the sofa and sniffed underneath it.
Immediately, out snaked a tiny black-and-white paw, claws extended, and did its best to rake her across the nose. However, sensitive to magic as they were, the kittens were still mortal creatures, and Scamp was still a ghost.
Scamp jerked her head back anyway, apparently motivated by the same instinct that caused Annie to duck when an object flew toward her. She sneezed, licked her chops reflectively, then dropped to her belly. She crawled forward, tail a happy blur, to shove her whole head under the sofa. Terrible hisses resulted, as though beneath the sofa two tiny teakettles had simultaneously come to the boil. Loki took a step forward, wondering how far he should let this go before he intervened.
Scamp rolled onto her side, wiggling foolishly and paddling with her forepaws. Another kitten-paw lashed out and slapped her, this time across the toes. Scamp flipped onto her back, extending her forefeet under the sofa, back paws waving in the air.
It was becoming evident that Scamp's patience with the kittens was considerable, which was cause for optimism: how long could two infants like Philip and Elizabeth continue to fear and distrust such a demonstrably friendly new member of the household? Had Elizabeth not tried to make friends with Owen?
Loki had his answer a moment later: while Scamp was apparently occupied with Elizabeth under the sofa, Philip crept from under the corner, stalked around behind Scamp with an expression of deranged predatory concentration, and then in a rush flew at and pounced upon the dog's temptingly wagging, feathery, ghostly tail.
Scamp doubled up and flipped toward her "assailant," who launched himself onto the front of the sofa, where he clung by his claws and made a lateral rush, ears sideways and tail entirely puffed out, rather like a fluffy spider. It was the sort of performance Philip put on when he attacked feet under the bedclothes, a demonstration of how very wild and ferocious he was indeed. This was not how he behaved on the occasions when something really frightened him: Philip afraid was Philip underneath the sofa, refusing to come out.
And also Elizabeth, who now took her chance to fly at the distracted prey and pounce upon- or perhaps it was more accurate to say through- her. Scamp vaulted to her feet, spun in a circle, and then fled from the onrushing kittens, through the lounge to the entryway and back. It was, of course, evening, the time of day when experience had taught Loki that madness routinely descended upon Philip and Elizabeth. Scamp was a little less mad, but certainly willing to accommodate the antics of the two smaller animals. It crossed Loki's mind to wonder whether Scamp had ever had pups, and had perhaps played with them in a similar manner.
As a ghost, Scamp had great endurance, but when Philip and Elizabeth had suddenly had enough, Scamp did not seem to mind: she followed them onto the sofa and curled herself into a small black ball next to the two even smaller bundles made by the kittens. She rested her chin on the cushion and perked her ears at Annie.
Loki let out a breath he had not realized he was holding. Scamp's tail stirred, and when Annie came closer it began frankly to wag, which caused Elizabeth to flip over and bat at it. Annie sat down beside Scamp, rubbing the little dog's neck, and Loki squeezed into the space left between her and the arm.
Really, if they were going to continue collecting pets at this rate, they might need to consider acquiring more places to sit.
George and Mitchell elected not to fuss at Scamp, probably for fear of overstimulating her on her arrival. They sat on the daybed opposite the sofa, George leaning back and Mitchell with his elbows on his knees.
Grinning, Mitchell suddenly asked:
"Are you sure it's safe for the two of you to be sitting over there together? Or should George and I just gouge our eyes out now and save time?"
Loki could almost hear the blood rush to his face. Annie leaned on his shoulder and pressed a hand to her mouth. Glancing sideways at her and then at George and Mitchell, Loki realized he was, by far, the most embarrassed person in the room.
He must have looked it, too, because Mitchell relented, saying kindly,
"Well, it happens to us all. Practically a rite of passage, really." George went suddenly crimson to the ears, which made Loki cheer up and wonder what story George might wish never to tell.
"On this realm, perhaps," he said, rather than quiz George on the matter- which he was sure would only end in making matters worse for himself. "And perhaps outside the palace of Asgard," he conceded, realizing that many there were likely to have shared common living areas, similar to those on Midgard. The palace was different. He could not imagine such an embarrassing event happening to Thor, or Fandral, or-
Well, perhaps to Fandral, come to think of it.
And thinking of Thor reminded him-
"I should send a message to Jane," he announced. Then he glanced at Annie. "After that, we will discuss this plan of haunting. All right?"
"All right," Annie agreed. She smiled suddenly. "I'll go find my notepad."
Loki smiled back, suddenly nervous, and went to find the laptop. He carried it into the kitchen, set it on the table, and activated the wireless Internet connection and his email account.
And then he sat, hands twisting together in his lap, and stared at the screen for what seemed like a very long time. After that, he typed and deleted and typed again before, sweating with frustration and anxiety, he reviewed his final message and pressed the button marked "Send."
Closed down the laptop and walked back out into the lounge, where he sat down next to Annie again.
"All done?" she asked, smiling brightly.
"Very possibly," Loki replied seriously. Then he, too, smiled. "Ready to begin?"
Annie nodded. "Yes." She sat up very straight, nervous again, and took a firm grip on her notepad. "I've never really haunted anyone before," she explained.
"I am sure you will be wonderful at it," Loki assured her.
"You've haunted me lots of times, when it was my turn to do the washing-up and I forgot," George added encouragingly. Annie made a face at him, but she did seem to relax a little as she went on,
"I feel like I should have a scary voice. Like this." Annie drew down her brows, narrowed her eyes, and uttered a drawn-out moan of, "Oooowennnn… Cooooonnnfeeeesssss." She paused, assuming an even fiercer expression- well, for Annie- and repeated, "Connffesssss!"
There was a pause, in which Loki was quite sure he was not the only one present who was re-evaluating Annie's talents in the arena of haunting.
And then Annie herself deflated. "That was terrible, wasn't it?"
"I would not say terrible," Loki murmured. Annie screwed up her face at him, and Loki gave in. "Well, perhaps a little bit terrible." As delicately as possible, he added, "It is just that you are… not horrifying." For a moment he paused, rather boggled by the extent of his understatement. The corner of Annie's mouth twitched as she watched him struggle for words. Loki would have made himself look twice as foolish, if it brought her even momentary comfort.
"Well, that's definitely not going to work," Mitchell spoke up, and George nodded. "Not unless we get you some chains to rattle." Annie tore a page from her notepad, crumpled it, and threw it at him. Mitchell batted it away. "Face it, Annie, you're not exactly Jacob Marley. Loki, we'll explain that later."
"I know of Jacob Marley," Loki protested. "He was the business partner of Ebenezer Scrooge, before he died and became a ghost."
"That's right," George said.
"And he and his brother Robert visited Scrooge on Christmas Eve," Loki went on.
There was a rather long pause. Then Mitchell asked, "Who?"
"Jacob and Robert Marley," Loki repeated patiently. "They appeared in the guise of old men, enmeshed in chains embellished with cash boxes."
"Jacob and Robert Marley?"George repeated, looking very confused.
"Did I stammer?" Loki demanded, embarrassed and rather put out by the reaction.
Annie also looked confused for a moment, and then her expression turned to one of understanding. "When did you see The Muppet Christmas Carol?"
"There is a picture book at the school," Loki explained. "I found it while dusting the shelves in the library. I believe it is adapted from an older story, but surely the characters are the same?"
"... More or less," Annie said. "There's a film, too. We'll have to watch it, closer to Christmas."
"And maybe read the original story by Dickens," George muttered.
"Who is Dickens?" Loki asked politely. George's expression became apoplectic, and Loki kept a straight face a moment longer before confessing, "I am kidding you. I am familiar with Charles Dickens. He wrote the story of Oliver Twist." That had been one of the first books he read upon his discovery of fiction, and Loki still felt upset every time he thought about the dreadful ending, in which the kindly old man who looked after the youthful pickpockets was hanged. He went hastily on, "I am sure the original story was very good. Still- "
"Everything's better with Muppets," Annie agreed.
"Except perhaps real haunting," Loki replied thoughtfully. "I feel sure no one would be seriously alarmed if Grover came to haunt them."
"Grover isn't in The Muppet Christmas Carol," Annie reminded him.
"Well, no, but I like him," Loki told her. Annie punched him gently in the leg, and after he had recoiled appropriately, she said,
"You know what, there's another problem I didn't think of, about me trying to scare Owen. If I did confront him, it would… it would probably make him really angry." Annie's expression indicated she was remembering what Owen was like, when he was really angry.
"Annie, he can't hurt you," Mitchell reminded her.
"No, but he can hurt Janey," Annie argued. "And I think she's a cow, but I don't want her to get hurt because of something I did."
"Considering that we know Owen is a man prone to cruelty, I hardly think anything he did would be your fault," Loki pointed out.
"Well, yes, but if I can predict his reaction to something I might do, and it's bad- it's probably better for me to try not to do the thing that will set him off. If I can."
Loki chewed his lower lip and thought about that. Both sides of the argument seemed to have merit, and besides, he wished no harm upon Janey. The problem was, this seemed to leave them with very few options for dealing with Owen.
He had just allowed himself to wonder whether Hogun's offer was still open when he thought of something.
"Do you know, something has occurred to me: recently, I have experienced dreams that left me… unsettled." Unsettled was perhaps a ridiculous understatement, considering the state in which he had still been when he pounded on his brother's bedroom door, but it would suffice for the moment. He went on, "And you, Annie, have told me more than once that you long avoided sleep for fear of the sort of dreams you might have."
"Right," Annie nodded encouragement to him to go on.
"Well then, perhaps that is the course we should take," Loki suggested. "Rather than have you appear before Owen and attempt to frighten him by your… manner…" George and Mitchell giggled uneasily, and Annie made a face at them. Loki persevered: "There are some really quite straightforward spells that could preserve the illusion of sleep in Owen, and allow you to really talk to him. Is that perhaps a plan with some potential?"
Annie stiffened against him. Scamp shifted around to rest her chin on Annie's leg, and was rewarded with an ear-rub. The kittens woke up at the motion, then jealously scrambled over both Scamp and Annie to state their claim on Loki's lap. Loki scrubbed his fingertips down their spines and wished he was a big enough being not to feel gratified by this gesture.
And then there was a long moment of silence while everyone gave Annie time to consider the idea.
"I think... that's probably the best idea we've had so far," she said finally. "Could we bring him back here, or make him think he's here? Actually, making him think he's here would be better, I don't want him anywhere near the house again if we can help it."
"That would be easy to do," Loki assured her. "A simple glamour should suffice."
"What about Janey?" Annie asked.
"What about her?"
"Can we arrange for her to have a dream, too? So I can try to warn her?"
"That sounds like a good idea," George spoke up. "I mean, obviously we can't make her leave him- " Loki nodded, reminding himself that he did not like it when others made decisions on his behalf for his own good, and therefore, logically, humans would not care for it either. And besides, in a realm that permitted its citizens to choose even their own rulers, the implication was clear that important decisions were in the individuals' own hands. Even those who, when left to their own devices, made foolish choices.
"Very well," Loki agreed, and then laughed. "So you will, in effect, appear to them in turn as the Ghost of Christmases Past, and the Ghost of Christmases Yet To Come."
Just at that, there was an electronic tone from the pocket of Loki's leather jacket, hung on its peg by the door. This sound indicated that Loki had received a text message on his mobile. He extended his hand, and the device flew obediently from the zippered pocket to him.
On the screen were the words:
Skype me. Ten minutes.
The message was from Jane Foster.
Loki felt cold creeping from his belly outward to his limbs, a sensation rather like that of taking on his Jotun form, but more threatening.
"I think I... would you all excuse me for a moment?" he said faintly. Annie looked at his expression, and then frankly leaned over to see the screen of his mobile. She read the message, put a hand on his knee, and said,
"You can go into the kitchen, or you can stay with us, if you'd feel better having us here while you talk to her."
"I may do that, if you do not mind listening to me splutter," Loki muttered. George and Mitchell looked confused. Loki belatedly realized they had not heard the story of his dream and his trip to Asgard, but it seemed too complicated to try to explain in the time he had before Jane would be expecting his call.
He called the laptop to hand, rather than disturbing the kittens- they were apparently still making a point, and every time he moved they clutched him with their claws, which was flattering in one way but rather uncomfortable in a physical one.
It had not been quite ten minutes when Loki logged in to his Skype account, but Jane was waiting for him. Her expression, when the connection was established and he could see her, was concerned but not angry.
Yet.
"Hi, Loki- I just got your email," she said, without preamble. "I'm not sure I understood it completely, so I thought we had better talk."
If Loki had wanted to talk to her about this, he would have called her in the first place. He had sent the email precisely because he wished to avoid talking to her.
And that, of course, was the sort of craven impulse he could not easily confess to, at least not to Jane.
"Thor came to visit me yesterday," he explained, deciding the context was far too complicated to get into at the moment. "And I... I asked him... it occurred to me that we have never, in all this time, really talked about how he feels about my... my actions. Toward him. When he was, when he was with you and your friends."
Jane very kindly, and with really heroic self-restraint, did not reply, You mean when you told him his father was dead and his banishment permanent, that his family and everything he loved was lost to him, and no one loved him any more? And then you killed him? That time? He thought, however, even with the lack of clarity on the laptop screen, that he could see the thoughts pass behind her eyes.
"Go on," she said, in a restrained voice, all the new friendliness that had marked their recent communications gone.
"So I asked him," Loki explained bluntly, before he could lose his nerve. "And his answers were... I think they were intended more to spare my feelings than to communicate his. I spoke to Annie on the matter, and she suggested I ask you to- "
Jane interrupted in a tone of authority: "Loki, if he tells me anything, I will consider it in confidence between us. You have to understand I won't... report back to you."
"Oh no," Loki blurted, with a horrified sense of making matters worse with every attempt he made to improve them. "Nononono. I do not expect- I would not ask it of you." There was a time when he would have, if he had been able to gather enough concern for anyone aside from himself to bother. There was a time when trust and confidentiality, being concepts that happened to other people, would have seemed a needless indulgence.
Now, of course, things were rather different. "I only... I think he should talk to someone. And he can trust you, and... I do not think he would confide in his Aesir friends about this, because he- " wants them not to hate me again. "Annie and I thought, if you were to ask him, he might feel better for the telling. I do not... need to know anything he prefers not to tell me himself. I just think it might be... good for him. That is all. Really." Despite how cold he felt, Loki was conscious that his palms were sweating. Silvertongue, indeed.
Jane studied Loki through the computer monitor, head on one side, for what felt like a very long time. Then she nodded. "All right.
"Thank you," Loki said, with desperate courtesy. "I am in your debt."
"I'm happy to do it for Thor," Jane said, her tone even.
"Yes, of course," Loki agreed meekly, quite aware this might be the last conversation he ever had with Jane. Well, if that was the case you could not say Loki had not earned the outcome. He carefully wiped all traces of emotion from his face- any sign Jane might interpret as Loki asking her for things he did not deserve, from anyone, but especially not from her- and then pasted a smile on top. "Thank you, Jane. Thor is fortunate indeed, to number you among his friends."
He closed the connection and shut down the laptop before Jane could offer either the sort of response he deserved, or the sort Jane's inherent kindness might wrest from her against her will.
His hands were trembling slightly as he leaned forward to set the laptop on the coffee table before him.
"Are you all right?" George asked, after a moment.
"Better than I deserve," Loki replied briefly, then turned back to Annie, struggling to collect his thoughts. "We should probably work out the details of our activities- should we plan to confront Owen tonight?"
Annie looked thoughtfully at him. "Maybe not tonight. We've had a pretty full couple of days, and I don't know about you, but I think I need to sit and calm down a little bit before I do anything else." She scratched Scamp behind her ears, and the dog looked up at her adoringly. "We can make some plans, though. I might need a script."
Loki managed to smile at her. "I am sure you will do very well, no matter what we do."
"I hope so. Jane won't be mad at you forever," she added, in almost the same breath.
"And if she is- " Loki began.
"She won't be. You reminded her, is all, and I imagine it's freaking her out a little to think about it again, but she knew it already. She's already dealt with it once, and she knows you and Thor are both different now. She won't be mad at you forever." Annie's mouth tightened, and she said in an odd voice, "She might not forget, but she'll forgive."
There was a very uncomfortable silence. Loki looked around uneasily, trying to think of something to say to break it. His eyes fell upon the plastic container filled with Scamp's bones, which had been left in the entryway, just beside the stairs.
"We should find a more suitable place for those," he announced. "Perhaps they should be left with the boxes containing my Asgardian effects, in the basement?"
"That sounds like a good spot," Annie said. "As long as it doesn't restrict how she can move around the house."
Loki carefully shifted the kittens and got to his feet. "I shall go look. Will you come with me?"
Annie rose reluctantly, and Scamp slithered off the sofa to follow her. Loki picked up the container of bones and carried it down to the basement.
Once there, he pushed the container carefully behind the box he knew to contain the battered Aesir garb in which he had been dressed when he bounced off the roof and fell into the dustbins. Then he turned to Annie, to address the real point of coming down here in privacy.
"What is it?" he asked bluntly. Annie looked at him in surprise, but Loki had decided this was no occasion for, as the mortals would say, beating bushes. "I know you spoke truth, when you said Jane would remember Thor's and my quarrels are ended. I am sure that is so, and it reassures me." This was perhaps not as strictly true as either of them wished it could be, but now was neither the time nor the place to discuss that matter further. Loki went on, "But when you were speaking of that, something else began to trouble you. What is it? Will you tell me?"
Annie fidgeted. "It was... I'm not sure... " She hesitated a moment, looking around the basement as if the solution to her concerns was to be found in the washing machine or behind the crippled boiler. And then she blurted, "Jane knows you weren't yourself when you attacked Thor. And he knows you weren't. And I was thinking... maybe Owen... there might be a reason he is the way he is. There could be an explanation, something I ought to take into account... but I don't care. I want him to be sorry, to change, to regret what he did... but I don't care why he did it. And now I'm feeling really... I should care. I should- "
Loki suddenly realized he was gaping at her, and closed his mouth. Then he immediately opened it again to say, as blundering as he had once considered Thor, "Are you joking?" With some difficulty, he collected himself and lowered his voice as he went on, "What concern is it of yours, what his reasons are, or whether he has any besides spite and malice?"
"Loki, do you hear what you're saying?" Annie demanded.
"Of course I do," Loki said impatiently. "I know I have been pardoned for terrible crimes. But I also know, on Jotunheim, there are many people who will never, ever forgive me. And why should they? Is it their problem, to worry about my reasons or my excuses? Should they care why I attacked them and killed their loved ones? Of course not. Should you care, why Owen made your life a misery and then took it from you? Of course not- it would be your right to hate him forever, and probably to poison his tea, except that you are a better person than either he or I. But as to his reasons, that is of no matter, and nothing with which you should trouble yourself. He does not deserve your concern."
Loki wiped his palms against his trousers, tension grinding in his shoulders. He recognized the contradictions in his words and his attitudes, at least so far as it contrasted with Thor and the forgiveness he had so freely extended. He would think about that later, some night when sleep eluded him. For now, he could only concentrate on the knowledge that it was not up to the victim to heal the criminal, especially not when the crime robbed her of the few precious years of her mortal life. Perhaps one day Annie would really forgive Owen, but it was not her task, and she must not believe it so.
Annie protested, "If I was a better person- "
Loki, feeling rather hysterical, burst out laughing and embraced her. "Annie, if you were a better person, none of us would have the temerity to live in the same house with you, and that includes Thor and Jane Foster."
Annie punched him gently in the chest. "If I believed half of what you say, my head wouldn't fit into the house."
Loki raised his eyebrow. "If you believed one-quarter of what I say, we would not be having this conversation." Annie leaned into him and Loki rested his chin gently on the top of her head.
After another moment, Annie said quietly, "Remember when you mentioned talking to Catherine?"
After a moment, Loki did. "When we learned Owen was to visit. Yes."
"I think I'm going to call her," Annie said, her voice unsteady. At Loki's expression, she added quickly, "Not to talk to Owen. Of course not. But... I think I'd like to speak with my parents. I think... there are things we need to say to each other, too."
Loki tightened his arms around her and pressed his lips against her hair.