Chapter 18

April watched, hypnotised, as the green iridescent light writhed and gyrated seductively into the room. It rapidly became denser, shrouding the furniture, snaking up the walls and billowing across the ceiling like plumes of smoke.

Her heart raced as her living room became completely smothered until it was consumed entirely, and her smile wavered, a shiver running down her spine as she began to feel the first prickles of alarm.

"Do not be afraid," Loki reassured softly beside her and she could feel the weight of his stare. "Only patient."

She swallowed down her concerns and nodded but did not turn to look at him, her curiosity far too great. Strangely, though the light was becoming dark and fathomless, the room itself seemed to be getting bigger, the walls extending, the ceiling rising. It was both exciting and unnerving to watch. She felt as if she had stepped onto a movie set and was witnessing one of those incredible green-screen special effect.

Finally something new began to take shape, materialising gradually within the darkness. She could make out distant lights. No, not lights exactly, glints. Glimmers of gold...and a slightly darker though still lustrous bronze. And colour... snatches of colour. Some rich and vivid, others more muted and obscure.

She frowned her frustration, impatient for more to be revealed. Why was it so damn slow? Was he purposely tormenting her? She wouldn't put it past him. He might not be evil incarnate but he definitely had a wicked streak.

She could make out objects now. Lots of small objects.

Hundreds of them, in fact.

Could it be...?

Books?

She quickly stood up as the darkness finally dissipated.

"A library!" she gasped in delight.

"Not just any library. The greatest library in all of the nine realms."

She dizzily took in the unbelievable sight, staring up into the immense cathedral-like room her tiny home had metamorphosed into, filled with row upon row of soaring shelves, every one heaving with books. "Nine realms?" she asked distractedly, still unable to tear her eyes away.

She took a step forward only to feel him quickly snatch hold of her wrist. "Remember, it is only illusion. Better enjoyed from a distance."

His grip was gentle and he released her just as quickly, his aim only to halt her in her tracks.

"Yes, of course," she returned, feeling a pang of disappointment that she couldn't interact, couldn't touch...and most dispiriting, couldn't read. "It just looks so real..."

Her gaze continued to eagerly roam, greedily devouring every detail. Not just the thousands of tantalizing books with their lavishly gilded spines, but the stunning architecture of the room itself. The majestic stone arches and towering pillars framing the bookshelves. The golden statues of Herculean characters appearing to guard them. The incredibly detailed carvings of vines, birds, and animals etched into every inch of the opulent wood.

"And it does actually exist?" she asked longingly. "Somewhere, at least?"

"It does indeed. A place I have spent many contented hours." There was a wistfulness to his tone that pleased her, because she could relate, felt the same passion for such places. But she also detected a hint of sadness, perhaps his own disappointment that he couldn't interact either.

Though she strained her eyes to try to read them, the books were too far away for her to make out any of the titles. "Can't I get any closer?"

She caught the sweep of his arm in her peripheral vision and the illusion began to dissolve away.

When her living room was promptly restored she turned angrily. "You could have left it a little longer!"

Hands behind his back he leaned forward slightly, a smug look on his face. "Consider it a taster."

"Taster?"

He shrugged. "You haven't told me whether I can stay or not yet."

Her hands dropped to her hips. Sneaky bastard. She should have expected as much. "That's a bit underhand."

He smirked and folded his arms. "On the contrary. I would like refuge and you would like to be dazzled. I think it a fair exchange."

She huffed. "Dazzled is stretching it a bit far."

"Your body language told me otherwise."

Damn him. She couldn't deny it and felt it would be pointless to try. "Well...we don't have magic here. It's a...novelty."

"Novelty?" He looked insulted. "Your eyes were practically popping out of your head."

She scowled at him. "OK. OK. You can stay."

He beamed and she half expected him to punch the air in triumph.

"But there will be rules," she quickly added, wagging a finger at him.

Though she feared she might run the risk of provoking him, she also knew it was important that she stood up to him, retained the upper hand. This was her home, her refuge, and no one was going to make her feel vulnerable in it. To gather some courage she reminded herself again of what had happened in the bedroom. That he hadn't hurt her. He had healed her.

He cocked an eyebrow expectantly. "Fair enough."

Feeling rather foolish, April realised she had no idea what those rules were. "Look, I'm rather on the spot here. Can I decide them later?"

His eyes glinted mischievously. "As you wish."

She gestured back towards the wall. "So...bring the library back."

"Later."

"Why not now?"

"I would very much like a bath."

"A bath?" That was the last thing she had expected him to say.

"If that is permissible," he snapped, seeming a little put out by her reservations.

"I..er...suppose so."

"A change of attire would also be..." His gaze softened again, though April suspected it was feigned for her benefit. "...appreciated. I do not have any Midgardian currency at present, but if you could acquire me some shoes at least, I could pay in kind."

The magical kind, April suspected, though she certainly wasn't opposed to it. She wondered why he couldn't just magic himself some new clothes and was about to say as much when she remembered something else.

"That won't be necessary. I..." she took a steeling breath, not sure whether she wanted to do this but knowing it would be puerile not to offer. "I have clothes." She felt her chest tighten at the thought. "David's..."

"You still have your husband's clothes?"

His surprise both annoyed and embarrassed her and she turned away, looking anywhere but at him. He wasn't the only one to react in such a way. Both her mother and sister had told her that it wasn't healthy to keep holding on to all of David's things. "I just...it's difficult...I've been meaning to donate them to charity...but I..."

"You do not have to explain," he cut in shortly, though his voice was sympathetic. "But are you sure? I could wait while you cleaned my own clothes."

She rolled her eyes, though was secretly thankful for his shear arrogance. It gave her the chance to compose herself. She snapped back to him again. "For starters, I wouldn't clean your clothes, I'd throw them in the washing machine and let that do the job."

She didn't know where the hell he came from but it didn't take an Einstein to work out that he had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. "Actually, that can be the first rule. While you're here, I am not your servant. I am doing you a favour."

She gestured to the door, giving him no chance to respond. "The bathroom's upstairs. There's a bath and a shower. Take your pick." She looked him up and down. "You're a bit taller than David..." she faltered, throat burning as she realised that she was referring to him in the present tense,"...than he was. But I'll try to find something for you to wear while the washing machine cleans your clothes."

He blinked, looking a little stunned, and she braced herself for some angry retort, but instead, his mouth stretched back into a grin and he took a step towards her, quickly closing the space between them. She immediately flinched back, fearing he was going to strike her, but instead he flexed his long fingers in front of her face and conjured a pure white lily. "My apologies."

She gaped in surprise as he handed her the flower.

"A thank you to my gracious host."

To her shock it felt solid in her hand. Real. She looked up at him questioningly.

When he leaned in closer she tried desperately not to shrink from him. "What is reality," he murmured cryptically into her ear, "...but the greatest of illusions."

She tensed as she felt his breath shiver passed her hair. "I don't understand."

He stepped back, watching her intently. "Don't try to."

Winking, the playfulness returned to his eyes, and he turned away. But as he made to exit the room he threw over his shoulder: "One Midgardian hour."

"What?"

"That is how long it will last."

When he had gone she stared down at the lily in wonder, overwhelmed by such an unexpected gesture. It was beautiful. Quite exquisite, in fact, perfectly formed and unblemished, a flawless specimen. Unable to resist, she brought it up to her nose and inhaled. It even smelt real. Its delicate scent filling her senses.

Magic.

She held real magic in her hand.

She sighed heavily, her shoulders heaving.

After so much pain, so much anguish, she needed this. God, she needed this. More than anything. She wanted to be swept away. Far away from the hurting and despair. She wanted to lose this dreadful ache in her heart that sometimes made it a challenge to breathe.

He was right, of course. She did want to be dazzled.

And if she had to put up with his cocky arrogance to get some respite from that tight knot of grief inside, then so be it.

Hope you enjoyed!

Please leave a review!

Pweeety please?