"Impossible," he breathed, his eyes trailing along the body of the sceptre in my hands. I stood carefully, brushing away the dry leaves and dirt from it. I had never seen anything like it before. It was heavy in my hands, but moved as swiftly and lightly as a feather in Loki's. A smile broke upon his face, the blue glow on his skin.

"So that's yours then?" I asked.
"No!" He shook his head, wide-eyed. "But isn't Midgardian-make, that's for sure."
"Please don't tell me there are other gods scurrying about Riverside now."
He frowned, "Not gods."
"Frost Giants?" I squeaked.
He threw me a rather foul look and continued weighing the staff in his hands. "This craftsmanship is alien to me, but it emits remarkable energy. It feels almost like-"
But he didn't complete his thought. Loki held it firmly in his right hand and gestured for me to move.
"Here, watch this," he said as I stood behind him.
He pierced the air with the curved blade and the blue core at the end seemed to sing sharply a moment before turning amber as a white hot beam shot out of it. In the distance an oak caught fire and was reduced to nothingness within seconds.

Loki and I stood frozen to the ground we stood upon, unable to look away from the charred circle where a grand tree had once taken root and risen, over decades, towards the sky. Now it was gone.

I gasped awkwardly, realizing I had been holding my breath.
A strange sort of laugh escaped his lips as he studied the extent of the damage.
"What did you have to do that for?" I snapped, shoving his arm.
"Leave off, I was testing it!" He retorted, shoving me back.
"You don't know what that thing is! It could be dangerous! It is dangerous!"
Loki ignored me, running his fingers along the curved blade of the sceptre.
"Put that away, Loki, it's not even yours," I said crossly, reaching for it, but even before I had taken a step forward, he had vanished into thin air, only to reappear some yards behind me.
"Stop doing that!" I bellowed.
"You have no idea the kind of power this contains," he said gleefully. "I haven't felt so – so alive in the longest time."
"Fine, keep your bloody magic stick," I turned to the road. "It wouldn't fit in the truck anyway."
"I don't need the truck, Paton."
"What?"
Loki beamed at me, bowed low and then disappeared.

"This is all very amusing to you isn't it?" I called out to the empty forest. "Suit yourself. I'm going back for a nap."
I turned to walk to the truck, half expecting to see his arrogant silhouette against the dusty tinted windshield. But the truck was empty too. And the road. And the clearing behind me when I turned to look.
"Loki?" I paused, casting a glance around myself.
I was alone again.

The tank gave out with a sudden splutter just as I had hit South Dutton office traffic. The sun was slowly sinking in the horizon to the din of the short and long honks that blared behind me. I held up my hands several times, blinking at the angry headlights that shone in my face. Then I returned to heaving my body into the back of the truck. Now was when I could bloody use a god in my life. The truck moved slowly up the side of the road, angry motorists stopping to mumbled nasty things to me and then speeding off before I could engage them. My knees were weakening with the effort and incidentally, I decided to stop right outside of the little bar, tucked between the Laundromat and the comic book store.

I locked up and pushed my way into the saloon-style bar. Cleaving my way through the smoke, I approached the bartender.

"Paton!" he tipped his straw hat at me, "haven't seen you around in a long time."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," I scowled, finally remembering why I couldn't stand this place unless I was completely hammered. It smelled like sad old men. On some of my worst days, I smelled like a sad old man.
"Just saying we missed you around here," he winked.
"I need to make a phone call. My truck broke down outside."
"Machine only uses quarters," he reminded me.
"Come on, Hank, you've known me forever. Can't I just use your cell-phone?"
"Cellphone?" He blinked. "I never owned a cellphone in my life!"
Just then something vibrated on the counter. Hank turned a shade redder and picked it up, "Molly, I'm at work, I told you I'd pick up the cakes on my way back."
I grimaced at the bartender.
"Yeah, yeah, I love you too, hun. I gotta go now, customers."
"You were saying?" I smirked as he hung up.
Hank dejectedly handed over his phone and I punched in the number of the mechanic. There was a ten-second silence before the cold mechanical voice said, "the number you are trying is busy, please try again later."
I hit redial, leaning against the large glass window, staring out into the busy South Dutton by-lanes. If you couldn't hear the racket, it was almost scenic. Like a photograph set to a Jazz piano soundtrack. And then, I saw a pair of young boys in hoodies, coming down the street, cigaretted dangling from the corners of their mouth.

"Hello, Olly's Garage, what can I do you for?"
I thrust the phone back at Hank and launched myself out of the smoky bar into the street.
The two boys were ambling past the Laundromat and turning a corner.
"Hey!" I yelled, but they hadn't heard me.
Shoving past the pedestrians on the sidewalk, I ran down to the corner, spotting them a few yards away from me. Pursue, my mind barked at me. Pursue and kill.