NOTE - Thanks as always to my lovely reviewers: thephoenixandthedragon4ever (and I totally agree about Thor), Esha Napoleon, Makoblue93, and Moriarty-assbutt. You are wonderful writers as well as beautiful people.
23. Hagalaz – Hail and Disease
"I'm worried about this one." Jane bent over the final mark on Natasha's wrist so closely her hair lapped the skin. "It seems different from the others, somehow."
"You may indeed be right." Loki sat apart from the fire with his long legs crossed at the ankles. "The first two were part of the Freya Aettir, but Hagalaz is …"
"Heimdall Aettir." Sif leaned forward with interest. "It is one of the runes belonging to my brother's legends. Will it change the test?"
"Could do. And it is not only that – Hagalaz cannot be reversed, although it can be held in opposition. Therefore, essentially we are working with the same rune although it has been returned to Futhark position."
"I see what you mean, Loki." Natasha held her wrist up to the fire, to look at it more clearly. "It looks the same whether reversed or not. Any theories about what I'll have to face?'
"What we will have to face, you mean? And it represents Hail and Disease, also uncontrolled forces within or without – the weather, or a storm within one's unconscious." Loki glanced at the troll's mound as he spoke.
"Hm." Natasha slitted her eyes, thinking. "By the simple rule of Threes, we are about to encounter the hardest test. And not only that, I have noticed a similarity between them, and I'm certain you did as well…"
"Of course." Loki made one of his hasty, impatient gestures. "The trials are designed to separate us, to make us angry with each other. It was e'er what Angrboda did best – got me enraged to the point I took it out on others."
Jane caught Natasha's eye, seemed about to ask a question, and subsided. "I really can't talk about the second trial," Natasha stated. "It was silly, stupid, and actually rather easy in the end, but it did make me think about things I'd rather not."
"And me as well. It is burning me not to ask what you saw there, Natasha." Loki's eyes glittered, and she shushed him.
"I think we need to agree, as we all did earlier, that we shall stay united no matter what happens. If we argue amongst ourselves or with each other, it uses strength we could otherwise employ against our common enemy."
He nodded. "Wisely put, and for once I will listen to wisdom. However, when I catch that foul Troll Witch between my hands, I will throttle her in the slowest manner possible and pull out her entrails one by one."
"You shall have to get past me to her first," Sif cautioned.
The air felt brittle with tension as though a lightning storm were imminent. Once the conversation descended into bickering about what might or might not occur the next day, Natasha declared it was time for bed. Loki lay close to her, stroking her shoulders, kissing her fingertips, fingering one long curl. They stared into each other's eyes, feeling the weight of their desire hang between them.
He raised one eyebrow and she shook her head. His eyes closed briefly and the white line above his lips tightened.
She wove her fingers with his, trying to make him understand. Yes I want you, she was trying to say, but not in this place.
Softly he leaned over, nipped her cheek with his teeth, and whispered into her ear, "As soon as I get you back to the Palace there will be no more excuses."
"I know." Natasha edged closer and pillowed her head on his shoulder in the place where she fit perfectly as though it had been created for her. "Loki, I know."
"Natasha!" Sif shook her shoulder and pointed to the mound. "I think you will want to see this."
Shaking off the cobwebs of sleep, Natasha disentangled herself from Loki's arms and climbed out of the bedroll. "What is it?"
"Look." Sif pointed to the mound. The Hagalaz rune glowed on the door in lurid red, like a slash of blood across the dark dwelling's front.
"Loki." Natasha smacked his shoulder, and with one move he opened his eyes, threw back the covers, and vaulted towards the door.
"This does not bode well." His hand to his lips, Loki considered the glowing mark. "As I said before, this test may well be very different from the other two, not only for us but for you as well, Sif and Jane."
"Good!" Sif's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "By my troth, I am ready for a spot of action and the sound of steel. However, you will need to stay by my side, Jane. You progress with your swordplay, but I would not pit you in a battle yet."
"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry about me. I do have my fist, and believe it or not sometimes quick wits can outweigh the sharpest sword."
Raising his brows in surprise, Loki bowed to Jane. "This is well said, and I must add I agree with you."
Although no one wanted much to eat, Natasha insisted on a wash and change of clothes before approaching the sinister dwelling. "The last one," she reminded them.
"Indeed it is, and we shall take it as we did the others – together." Loki offered her his arm.
She took it, feeling the strength of muscle underneath her fingertips. "Let's do this."
Jane and Sif accompanied them to the door. As Natasha opened it, the handle seemed to squirm as she touched it as though it were alive. "Ugh!" she exclaimed, stifling the desire to wipe her hand on her tunic. "This place gets worse by the minute…"
She cut off her speech with a shocked curse; in front of them within the open door lay the glowing Bifrost. The bridge sparkled within the dark, dreary space. "Can you see that?" she asked Jane.
But it was Sif who answered. "Yes, we can. It makes some sense, if you are now confronting the Hagalaz rune and a Heimdall Aett. In truth, I doubt Jane and I will be able to join you." She was proved right in a moment; once again only Loki and Natasha were able to enter the dwelling.
"We'll be back as soon as we can!" Natasha turned towards the rainbow bridge and squared her shoulders. "This is it," she added.
"Midgard, I suppose, although we could find ourselves in the wastes of Jotunheim. Either way, Angrboda is certain to have demon spew awaiting us." He bound her to his side with his arm, and they walked forward together.
They appeared on Earth as Loki foretold, on the pavements of what seemed to be a European city. Natasha looked around and frowned. "I recognize this place, but it has been a long time…" A couple passed them, chattering and gesticulating, and her brow cleared. "They're speaking Lithuanian. I would guess we are in Klaipeda, the port city."
Loki looked around and encountered a few curious gazes in their direction. "I do not mind being the centre of attention," he groused, "but perhaps it would be best to be less obvious."
"Can you conjure us up some modern clothes?" Natasha asked.
He drew her into a side alley, waved one arm, and frowned. "No. It appears my magic did not follow me here."
"Crap. I might have known. Oh, well – we'll just have to access your other magic – those computer skills of yours."
"But how can we do that without a device?" he argued.
"Allow me to introduce you to the concept of internet cafes."
A few hours later, armed with ATM cards and cash, Loki squired Natasha to a small shop off the main drag. There he chose her slim jeans, a simple soft shirt, and a pair of pumps with extremely high heels. "What's up with those?" she asked, pointing to the shoes.
"Everyone wears them here. Have you not noticed?"
She glanced around. "Yes, I suppose you're right. OK, let's go find you some duds, both of us some weapons, and we'll rent a room for the night."
"Oh?" He looked confused. "You only have eighteen hours and fifty-three minutes by my reckoning before our time is up to remove the last rune. As much as I would like to spend it with you in a bed somewhere…"
"We have to establish a base of operations, silly," she explained.
"Oh, yes. Of course."
Once they acquired weapons and clothes for him, Natasha and Loki left the shopping area. Imbued with a sense of urgency he pulled her hand to walk faster, and as they flew along he scanned the streets with brows like thunder descending over his darkened eyes. "What is the task?" he ground out between his teeth. "We cannot be meant to wander these streets like a pair of foolish travelers."
"Here." Natasha tugged his hand and pointed to the small B&B in front of them. "Take a look."
Loki's expression cleared as he read the sign: "Hagalaz Inn." They entered, and the man within gave them a key to their room. As they prepared to head up the small step that smelled of cabbage, he cleared his throat and made a beckoning gesture.
Loki strode up to him and held out a sheaf of bills. "Ką?" he asked.
The proprietor grinned, rummaged in a mail slot, and gave Loki a grubby envelope. His meaty palm stayed open as though he expected more; Loki threw another few bills into the man's hand and steered Natasha up the stairs by her elbow.
When they reached the room, Loki locked the door before ripping open the letter. "What is it?" Natasha wrapped her arms around him from the back and looked at the paper.
"An address and a time. Let us see what it is." Quickly he punched the words into the phone he had bought during their shopping trip and waited. "A place called a dance club," he added when the information came up on the screen. "Good thing I added a few things to your shopping, darling."
"Did you now!" Natasha dumped the contents of the bag onto the bed and sorted through them. "Oh, I see." She held up a short dress with a plunging neckline in silver. "Wow, perv much? This could fit into your pocket."
"I adore you in silver – you know that already." Loki winked at her outrageously. "Put it on, darling."
"Meanwhile, you get to wear jeans and sensible shoes. So not fair." Natasha put her tongue out at him but was already pulling off her shirt and boots.
The club was crowded with tourists and pretty local girls, all drinking heavily and dancing to a pulsing beat. Loki looked startled when he heard the loud music; the volume was high enough to blast their eardrums.
Natasha shrugged and pulled him onto the dance floor. "We should probably cause a bit of a scene," she said in his ear. "Follow my lead."
"Scene?" The next moment Loki's eyes popped as Natasha started to undulate towards him, pumping her hips in time to the music. Lazily she curled one arm around his neck and straddled his thigh, thrusting into his pelvis. "Natasha, what are you doing?!"
"It's called dancing. Quite different from a Hringr, isn't it?"
Loki raised one eyebrow. "Why not simply go to a bedroom and fornicate? I do not understand."
"That's the whole point. You hang out and dance to extend the evening and make it more exciting."
"Ah." He nodded. "I see now." His arms encircled her waist and pulled her closer, teasing her back above the impossibly low neckline of the dress. Smoothly he spun her out, caught her again, and lifted her up to straddle him as they grinded each other in a sexy, languid rhythm. "Natasha – I like this!"
She laughed at him and bit his neck. "Yeah, I can tell. Mr. Mischief just made an appearance."
"How much of a 'scene' do you wish to make?" Loki clutched her hair, pulled her in for a long kiss.
"Mmm, that's good. More tongue though – and make it obvious." Instantly he licked her lips, pulled her flush up to his erection with a firm grasp on her derriere.
"It occurs to me there is a side of you I do not know," he said slowly in her ear.
"I thought the same about you the second time I arrived in Asgard," she replied. "When I saw you riding with Thor, it felt as though I were interfering with your other life…"
"No." Roughly he cupped her chin and drew her in for another long kiss. "We have to mingle those previous lives, and from their threads create a new one together."
"You have caught a pretty bird." A harsh voice interrupted their conversation. "May we join the dance?" One man stood next to them, eyeing Natasha's legs in the crazy shoes.
Loki's eyes flashed with a murderous glare, but Natasha squeezed his hand. "How about drinks instead?" she asked in a newly high-pitched, breathy voice.
The man, dressed in a black silk shirt and shiny leather jacket, pulled the corners of his mouth down in a considering way and led them to a padded alcove lined with pillowed sofas. There were several girls there already, one half-asleep. The man shouted at them to move, and the women got up and disappeared.
"What is your name?" The man leaned forward and stroked Natasha's knee. "I am Leonid, but my friends know me as Leo."
"Her name is Natalia, Leonid." Loki snapped.
"How much?" 'Leo' let his eyes devour Natasha's chest, and he licked his lips.
"Too expensive for you." Loki looked away, as though he were finished with the conversation, but Natasha pulled on his collar to bring him in for another kiss.
"Ask him if he has any to trade," she whispered.
His jaw popping with rage, Loki made the request in a strangled voice. Leo's eyes brightened. Without a further word he rose, gestured for them to follow, and let the way to the steps at the back of the club.
Natasha felt Loki's hand on her waist, possessive and threatening. "If he looks at you again I will slit his throat," he hissed when they rounded the corner.
"He's a moron. As soon as I see what he's got upstairs we'll take care of him together – don't let your jealousy ruin the case."
"Quarrels?" Leo asked. He stopped at the top of the stairs and let loose a long wheezing laugh; Natasha nearly fainted from the smell of his breath.
"No, Leo," she giggled. "Is this where you live?"
"Baby, this is just one of my many hangouts." Leo produced a key and opened a door on the left of a short corridor. "So, you would like to see available girls for trade?" He nudged Loki with one elbow and burst out into a long guffaw. "For her, perhaps you pick up two, three songbirds." The man slid one arm around Natasha's waist and pawed her breasts with his other hand.
"Now?" Loki asked through gritted teeth. Obviously he was ready to murder Leonid.
"Now," Natasha agreed. She slammed her elbow into Leo's chin, and Loki's dagger was instantly at the man's neck.
"How about this? How about I remove your eyes and fingers for daring to touch this goddess, and you tell me what is hidden here inside these rooms?" Loki's dagger sliced into the man's throat, and a line of red appeared above his Adam's apple.
"How about you hand her over to me with the contents of your pockets?" Leo whistled and a blond woman burst in with two guns trained on Loki and Natasha.
"Petrovitch?" the blonde demanded. "Are you Petrovitch? We have lost enough goods to that group. We have back-up on the roof and in the street – neither of you will leave here unless you go with us." Her eyes raked Loki's slim figure and long black hair. "And you look like an exotic addition to our menu."
Natasha caught Loki's glance and looked at the window. "Petrovitch? No, we're not. But I am bored of you and this idiot." With one sudden flip she caught one gun with the toe of her shoe and sent it spinning out of the woman's grip. Loki's elbow slammed into the female's gut and she went down, waving her pistol above her head.
Natasha picked off the pistol and threw it to Loki. "Now, I believe my friend here asked you a question. Where are the other women you have hidden away?" When Leo didn't respond, she slammed her knee into his groin and jammed her elbow into his cheek, snapping his face sideways.
Loki had already flipped the woman, crossed her wrists, and tied her up with his belt. Natasha bashed Leo's head once more and retrieved the guns. "Nice work, MIschief," she grinned. "Now, where is the cache?"
"Pardon me, but the lady asked about your hidden cache. She may be patient, but I am not." Loki casually flipped his knife and held the tip under Leo's eye.
"There." Sweating, the man pointed at a blank wall, and Natasha nodded.
"OK, I can see the outline of the door. On three?" As she counted they kicked in the hidden entrance. The wall, made of cheap wallboard, caved in to reveal a sordid, filthy room. It was lined with several stained mattresses and illuminated by a naked bulb hanging from the ceiling; by its light Natasha could see several young females and one small girl cowering in a corner. They were all covered with bruises and smelled of urine and despair.
"All is well," she said to them in Lithuanian. "We are here to help you escape and get back to your families."
"Petrovitch?" The girl with her arm around the child looked up with something like hope in her eyes. "Are you Petrovitch?"
Loki and Natasha looked at each other; she shrugged. "Perfect," he said in a deeply satisfied tone. "We have completed the task and, if I'm not mistaken…" Carefully, as though he could hardly dare to look, Loki lifted Natasha's wrist. However, the last rune was still there, and he added a few villainous curse words. "Keep on your guard, darling – there must be more to this than we know. We need to return to Asgard as soon as possible so Jane and perhaps my mother may examine this mark."
"Just as soon as we get these women to safety," Natasha said.
"Of course." Loki punched something into his phone screen and nodded. "The local guards - I suppose you would say police - will be on their way in minutes to arrest the two in there. I presume they will also take care of those females and the child. And, pet, if we are lucky Heimdall will whisk us directly back to the palace instead of that hole in Ironwood…"
"But we can't just walk out on these prisoners!" Natasha argued. "I think they were already compromised once, thanks to my inability to find a head for the Foundation you gave me." She added a quick question in Lithuanian to one of the women, and instantly they responded with a voluble burst of words, accompanied by many hand gestures and interruptions from the others.
"They will be perfectly fine. I will give them all the money we have left, and they can go and take the proper transportation to their homes. I do not see the problem." Loki's brows twitched together. "And the last few precious hours of your life are running like sand through a glass. We cannot tarry any longer."
"There's much more to it than that! They need a safehouse and…"
"I care about your life and safety," Loki growled into her ear. "Why should we worry about mere mortals?"
Natasha felt as though someone had just slammed her face into a brick wall. She stepped away from him and said in a cold, deadly tone, "What did you just say to me?"
"They are mere… Oh, I see." Loki reached for her hand, but she avoided him. "Darling," he added, throwing down his phone in exasperation, "of course I didn't mean you. Natasha, you are clever and strong, more so than any of the goddesses in Asgard."
"That is because of that black shit they injected into my veins for the most part. Are you telling me you can put up with me because I was biologically modified?" Her nostrils flared. She wanted to throw herself out the window, to pump him full of bullets.
"No! Stop this!" Loki breathed out and ran his hands through his hair. "Natasha, remember what we promised each other earlier? That these tests were designed to separate us, to make us question ourselves and each other?"
She stopped, her mouth open in an O. "Angrboda," she and Loki said at the same time.
As they spoke the name, there was a loud rumble of thunder. Loki caught his breath and reached for her, but it was already too late. His figure wavered and grew dim. In a moment he disappeared altogether.
Natasha screamed and punched the wall; her fist went right through the thin plaster. As angry and hurt as she was, she wanted him back – but she also knew there was nothing she could do about it at that moment. In any case, she still needed to help the women in the room. Quickly she picked up the phone from one of the disgusting mattresses and patched through to the Petrovitch Foundation. When she gave her name, there was a quick consultation, a series of beeps. After a minute, a woman answered. "Hello? This is Anzhela Romanoff."
"Anzhela. This is…"
"Ohmigosh!" Always voluble, her niece started to scream with excitement; Natasha heard pounding over the phone, as though the girl were jumping up and down. "It's so good to hear from you! This job is – woah. It's just beyond. I mean – we're doing so much good, you know? And the Foundation is brill – the way it was set up is just…"
"Listen. I have a situation here. Can you help?" Briefly Natasha described where she was.
"Did you say Lithuania?" Anzhela broke off and gave a series of terse orders to someone in the room. "Holy cow, I think you found the compromised women we've been seeking for weeks now. Don't worry – I'll have someone there in an hour. Cops, medics, support, whatever the victims need."
"Wait." Feeling like a fool, Natasha knew she had to ask the question. "I knew the Foundation was set up to run smoothly, but…"
"It's amazing! Serious genius. We're helping more people every day, and with SHIELD we're starting to shut down the other end as well. Imagine if we could be the generation to eradicate sex slavery."
"Suppose," Natasha asked slowly, "the person who designed the Foundation was a criminal himself. Suppose he said some things that were hurtful and hateful. What would you think about that?"
There was a long pause. "Perhaps you need to look at the bigger picture," Anzhela said at last. "Maybe it's not always what you say but what you do. Anyone who creates a work of art like this – and who did it for you - am I right? – has got to have a good side. At least, that's what I believe."
"Right." Natasha exhaled. The relief running through her was like a warm fireplace after a long day in the rain. "Yes, that makes sense. Thanks so much, Anzhela – for everything."
Once the women were evacuated and the would-be slavers taken out in handcuffs, Natasha stumbled out onto the street. The sun was just starting to rise, sending long streaks of red into the tortured sky. There was nowhere in that realm for her to be – even her flat at Stark Tower was gone, now home to Anzhela and, probably, Clint Barton. She had no job, no money, and not even Thor to turn to and take her back to where she wanted to be.
She headed to the docks, using her nose as a guide to tell her where the water was. Perhaps there she could find a quiet spot and a moment of privacy.
The wharfs were deserted, she noted with relief, except for a few drowsy workmen, getting off a last shift from a ship. Natasha found an empty square, looked around, and closed her eyes. "Heimdall, it's time," she whispered.
Nothing moved. Nothing changed. The ship at the dock hooted its horn – a long, lonely sound.
Natasha flung her head back at the sky. "Do you hear me? Heimdall?" She looked at the final mark on her wrist and sank onto the pavement, wondering how much time she had left before the final runic mark destroyed her. "Heimdall?"
The horn went on and on, wailing through the early dawn.
