Chapter 32
April feared she had gone too far when she heard Loki hurry away down the stairs.
"Loki? Loki!"
Where was he going?
"Please don't leave me in here!"
When she heard him open the back door she rushed across to the window and watched him stride down the garden, stopping at the bench where he had transformed into David for her.
Her eyes widened when she saw him magic himself into the armour she had seen in the photos and video, only minus the menacing horned helmet. A shiver ran down her spine. That seemed ominous. She hoped none of the neighbours would see him. She glanced at the bedside clock. It was a little after six. Still early.
When she looked back she was surprised to see him in the meadow beyond the garden, walking away from the cottage. What was he doing now? Was he leaving? She had an alarming thought. What if he wasn't coming back? What if he had left her here trapped? He wouldn't do that to her, would he?
She hurried back to the door hoping he had removed the magic when he left, but to her dismay it still wouldn't budge. She pounded on the wood though she knew it would be a waste of time, Loki would never hear her, but he had promised! Promised her that he wouldn't keep her a prisoner!
Why had he left? Was he simply angry about what she had said, or had her words affected him more than she realised? Was he actually feeling guilty about New York? Was it possible for the God of Mischief to even feel remorse?
Remorse or not, the bastard had still locked her in her own bedroom, damn him! OK, she had a bit of a panic attack earlier, but it had been a hell of a shock discovering his true identity. It had been a perfectly justified panic attack!
She clenched her fists, refusing to allow him the upper hand. What was it he had said about his magic? That it was all around us for the taking. A form of energy. But you just needed to know how to harness it. If there was magic in the door could she tap into it somehow? Even draw it out?
She dragged a chair across and sat straight in front of the door, so close that her knees were pressing against it. Reaching out her hands she lightly touched the wood with her fingertips.
Closing her eyes she concentrated on Loki's magic, trying to visualise channelling it out of the door and into her own body. She had no idea how to do it, she was simply improvising. Alternating between feeling a bit of an idiot and giddily excited, like she was in a scene from a movie and that at any minute she was going to experience her own magic for the very first time.
The meadow sloped down to a wide but shallow river dotted with rocks and boulders and bordered by tall trees. Loki headed for a large flat rock at the waters edge that was more prominent than the rest, and sat down.
He considered not returning to the cottage. He could remove the incantation from April's bedroom door easily enough from here. It would just take a little more effort. But he immediately dismissed the idea. Not only because he had forgotten his book in his haste to get away, and that he would definitely not risk transporting with magic, but because…
He steeled himself.
Because, for some insane reason, he was seriously considering taking April up on her offer. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her about Thanos and New York, Odin and the Rainbow Bridge, about why he did the things he did. He wanted to be honest with her.
He shuddered, fearing he had taken leave of his senses. The thought of opening up, baring his soul, made him feel nauseous. His whole life had been built upon a foundation of trickery and lies, but the fortification he had forged was an impregnable one, where he felt safe, protected, invulnerable. Did he have the mettle to do something honest for perhaps the first time in his life?
He closed his eyes, listening to the flowing water. As he tried to relax the tension in his shoulders his hands brushed the rock's smooth surface, knowing instinctively that April came here. That she had been here very recently. It was almost as if he could sense her lingering presence. He wished there was some way he could end her pain, but knew that was impossible, even with his magic. He hung his head, ashamed. He certainly hadn't helped matters by imprisoning her in her bedroom.
You could do so much with your powers, so much good!
Even if he wanted to, was he actually capable of doing good? Every time he made an attempt to step upon that path he seemed to end up sabotaging it in some way, and he knew it ran deeper than mere mischief.
He lifted his hand, watching with conflicting revulsion and fascination as it turned Jotunheim blue. He could evoke it so easily now, almost as effortlessly as he could his magic. But would he be able to share this with April as well? He clenched his fist, restoring his flesh back to normal. How could he reveal this monster inside when he found it too abhorrent to face himself?
"I don't think you are evil…I'm sorry I said you were."
He was certain that April would quickly change her mind if she knew the truth.
What was it he had said to the Black Widow on Shield's floating ship?
But can you? Can you wipe out that much red?
The question now was, could he? The desire for mayhem sparked violently through his veins, thrumming alongside every heartbeat. He had experienced moments of peace here on Midgard with April, but holding on to that calm was easier said than done.
His shoulders heaved his frustration as he stared up through the dappled light. By Yggdrasil! He felt as if he was being pulled in each and every direction! And it would only get worse if he bared his soul to someone as innocent as April. What if he tainted her with his darkness? What if the monster within lashed out? Hurt her?
But he knew he had to go back. April's faith in him would be dwindling with every passing minute. He couldn't risk losing it completely. Especially when there was the remotest possibility that she might be the one to help him step upon that path to…
To what!? his inner darkness flared. Redemption!? Why should he bother? Why should he care when it was the falsehoods of others that had wrenched him from the path in the first place! And they called him the liar!
Even his mother….even Frigga had been party to that deceit!
He pictured her beautiful smiling face. No. She had never wanted to hurt him. She had been trying to protect him. She had been the only one who had ever truly cared.
Until April it seemed, for some unfathomable reason. And yet here he was trying to sabotage that too!
He stared in the direction of the cottage, fondly recalling a rare moment of peace in front of a comforting fire. But he also remembered April's own fiery spirit and fierceness, despite her fragility.
A smile twitched at his lips. If she knew how to fight she would be formidable on the battle field. In fact, she reminded him a little of Sif. A softer version, of course. But the potential was certainly there. He imagined it would prove highly entertaining to teach her. She possessed a titillating balance of softness and tenacity that he was sure she would orchestrate to her advantage.
He frowned thoughtfully. There was something his mother had said to him in the White Realm, about balance.
"Yes, you are a man of chaos. That cannot be denied. It is in your nature. It runs through your veins. But life is neither one nor the other. There is a balance. There always has been."
Perhaps that was the key.
Balance.
Taking a bolstering breath, he slipped from the rock and started walking back towards the cottage.
If April's faith in him hadn't completely diminished, maybe she could even help him find that balance.
April blinked back tears of frustration. Twenty minutes of trying to connect to Loki's magic and nothing had happened. The door still wouldn't open and her head was pounding from concentrating so hard. God, she was stupid! What did she bloody expect? Had she seriously believed that she was suddenly going to turn into a sorcerer or something?
But what was worse, it also meant that Loki still hadn't returned.
She bit down hard on her lip, determined not to cry again. She had to believe that he would come back eventually. She might not have connected to his magic but she genuinely believed that she had connected to him in some small way. Or had it all been manipulation on his part? He had asked her several times to trust him but could you ever really trust the God of Mischief?
She returned to the window. He was nowhere in sight. Had he gone down to the river? It had been about this time yesterday that she had sat on her favourite rock, on the first anniversary of David's death. She had finally taken off her wedding ring and moved it to a chain around her neck, accepting that he was never coming back and she had to get on with her life somehow, that she had to face a world without him.
And then Loki had appeared and turned that world upside down.
Oh god. Had she made him so angry he was going to return to civilisation and start terrorising people again? He had changed into his armour. Surely that was a bad sign?
No! She honestly didn't think he would. She truly didn't. Though he tried to hide it, losing his mother had hit him hard. And there was something about his behaviour that made her suspect he had never had to contend with grief on this scale before. She knew, first hand, what it was like, the intensity of pain you felt inside. Grief changed you. You lost a part of yourself that could never be resurrected, that died with the person you lost. Loki's grief had triggered a change in him too. He was battling a different war now, one that was raging within. Hopefully, a better man would triumph and some good would come out of tragedy.
Wouldn't it? Or was she just kidding herself?
But despite everything she had just discovered, the terrible things that had happened in New York, she wanted to hear his side of the story. She didn't want him to be the villain everyone believed him to be. She knew he was a million miles from angelic, but nothing was ever black or white with people. As a writer, she thrived on the complexities of her characters. There were so many layers. Layers of good and bad, of happiness and grief, of love and pain. Was it the same for a god? She had seen glimmers of those in Loki over the past twenty-four hours. But she wanted to peel back more of his layers. She wanted him to open up to her.
She wanted to help him.
She rolled her eyes at her naivety. Oh yeah, right April. As if the God of Mischief wanted or needed your help. And right now the dick has imprisoned you in your own bedroom and might even have abandoned you when he promised not to!
She was deluded to even contemplate it.
As she stared despondently at the view, she happened to glance down at the kitchen's gently sloping roof below the bedroom's dormer window. The fact that the kitchen was only single storey gave her an idea.
The tiles looked sturdy enough, just a bit mossy. And the old coal shed was at the bottom. Could she climb out of the window, shimmy down the roof and onto the shed, then jump down from that? Dare she? She was no Lara Croft!
It sure beat doing nothing. And it would be worth a mossy backside, just to see the look on Loki's face, if the git did actually come back. Show him that this mortal was no pushover!
But had Loki used his magic on the window as well?
Heart racing, she lifted the latch. To her relief it opened.
She stared warily down her escape route. But was it worth risking a broken neck? That moss looked rather slippery.
Taking a deep breath she started to pull herself up through the window. If Loki had deserted her, she didn't have much choice.
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