Loki's Game (19 page)

“Loki.” The authoritative tone in Rowan’s voice cut through the haze and she turned her head. Everything sped up again, the sudden burst of energy making her head spin. The panther poised above her, set to strike, turned its head toward him. She looked past Loki to Rowan standing across the clearing, human, naked, and holding Gram. The panther turned and lunged and the blade came down, severing its head from its shoulders with one clean sweep.

With that, the world went dark.

Chapter Eighteen

Lily woke some time later to near silence. Her head ached, and for a moment she could not remember where she was. Recognition was slow as it returned. She remembered a fight. The panther. Rowan’s voice. Then…nothing.

“Lily?”

Her eyes rolled around in her head, searching through the bright light until she found the source of the voice. Rowan floated above her, a disembodied face in the haze. She clung to his image; used it to pull herself back to reality. His arm was under her neck; his hand cradled her head. Every line of his face held worry.

“There you are,” he said, relief flooding his voice.

“What’s going on?” Her voice sounded ruined and rusty.

“I thought I had lost you.” Lily tried to sit up as he spoke, but pain ripped through her side from her spine to her chest. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as the breath rushed from her lungs. “Hey, easy,” he chided, and guided her curling body back to rest. “You were banged up pretty bad when he threw you. You might have broken a rib or two.”

“Huh?” she gasped, still trying to both catch her breath and catch up.

“When Loki—” he started, and it all came rushing back. Despite the screaming agony throughout her body, she bolted upright, looking around.

“Oh, God,” she whined as her eyes found the body across the glen, “he’s…”

“Dead.” After everything he’d said and done—all the lies, the threats, and the cruelty—Lily still felt tears puddle in the corners of her eyes. They threatened to spill down her cheeks as Rowan’s arm closed around her, careful of her side. “I do not believe it,” he said wondrously, tipping her face up. “After all the things he has done to you, you still want to weep for him.”

“He wasn’t all bad, Rowan…just selfish.” She wiped a tear away before it had time to properly escape and blinked the rest away. “He was also attentive and generous.”

“And a thief, Lily.” Rowan’s voice had gone cold and hard. Jealous.

“So are others, but we don’t go around cutting their heads off.”

He smiled, and traced her jaw with a fingertip. “You are so tenderhearted.” He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. He smelled of sweat. Tiny drops of blood littered his skin, and that was when she realized he was still very much naked. She didn’t have time to dwell on it though, because the sound of approaching footsteps echoed around them. She whimpered and fought against Rowan to get to her feet. He kept her down and still, and she quickly gave up the fight in favor of not moving to ease the pain.

She took a breath and clutched at her side as pain tore through it again. Pants of air came in short gasps as Rowan balanced her against his chest, and she whined as the sound of a cane thumping across the ground moved close and closer. She opened her mouth to speak, only to let loose a fountain of blood from her lips. Lily cast her horrified stare up at Rowan. “You’re naked,” she whispered, her strength failing. Hysteria rose as she once again located Loki’s body, lying in a heap in the grass. Blood smeared the grass, the rocks, the sword, and their bodies. Her favorite dress was ruined.

“We need help,” Rowan bellowed, rattling her eardrum and making her wince. She would have shied away from the sound, but a new, stabbing agony started in her side and nearly took her breath away.

“I am not here as a spectator,” an old voice answered. Beside her, Rowan tensed as a man that very much matched the voice hobbled into view. His wild, white hair and beard drew her eyes, and in a moment of madness, she giggled and thought
he looks like Santa Claus!
The hysterical laughter quickly died as she took in the stark, black patch over one eye and the sad set to his grizzled, old jaw. He moved like a man exhausted with life, but not quite able to die. Something told her she should know who he was, but she couldn’t quite place him. Then Rowan dropped to one knee, bowing his head as he pressed his right fist to his heart in salute, and Lily’s breath caught in her throat.

“All-Father,” Rowan said, his voice calm and reverent, confirming her sudden fear
. The Old God.
The old man responded in a language Lily did not understand. A niggling voice at the back of her mind told her she should fear this man for what power he did not show, but the exhaustion from the day’s events was enough to wipe any sense of self-preservation from her mind.

When Rowan responded in the same foreign tongue, Lily gave up trying to understand anything at all and laid her head back against the ground with a thump.

* * * * *

“So it is done,” Odin said. Rowan noted the hint of sadness in his voice, and could not stop the pang of guilt that ripped through him.

“Yes. The monster is slain.” For one short moment, Rowan questioned his actions; wondered if the decision was just.

“I am sorry to hear of my brother’s death,” the old man replied, and Rowan cringed. “However, his actions were rash and your decision was justified.” Rowan released a pent-up breath, and with it, centuries of frustration, determination, and agony. It was finally over. “To make an attempt on the life of one’s mate is the worst crime. Worse even, I believe, than thievery, trickery, and the list of other crimes of which the old fool was guilty.” A deep sigh rumbled from Odin. “I dare say this is my fault,” he continued, and the admission surprised Rowan. “Had I not bade him make an excuse for the death of that boy, he would not have felt the need to steal the treasure. Granted,” he chuckled softly, “Loki likely would have found a reason to go after it on his own, so I suppose my guilt is a bit silly.” The old man thumped forward on his cane and laid a hand on top of Rowan’s head. Rowan wasn’t sure what he expected from the oldest of the gods, but a cold, human touch was not it. “Rise, my son.”

Pride rippled through his chest as he stood. To have knelt in the presence of Odin the All-Father, to have been absolved of the death of an Old God, and to have risen as a son of Asgard…the burn of tears threatened his eyes.

“I must say,” Odin said, and Rowan saw Lily’s eyes widen—he realized that Odin had spoken in English, “your assessment of my dear brother is quite wrong, Rowan.”

“Brother?” Lily squeaked, and the absolute truth that she wanted to avoid slammed into her. “You’re…”

Odin.

“Yes, child,” he confirmed. “I am afraid you have found me out.” A coy smile danced around his lips, and he leaned heavily on the stick he carried. Rowan watched the exchange with great humor—he had tried to warn her about the existence of these beings, but she seemed to resolutely ignore everything he had to tell her…until now. She struggled to sit up as she listened. “I only ask that you do not hold poor Loki’s greed against me. Sadly, this mess is all my doing. I thought him quite amusing at the time, but never did I imagine so many innocents would die for his selfish pride.”

Rowan looked over at Lily again, and noticed that her skin was a bit paler than before, and a thin sheen of sweat had broken out across her forehead. “Are you all right?” he asked, and knelt to slip an arm around her shoulders. She turned to rubber in his grasp, but when he moved to pull her into his arms, she cried out in pain and collapsed back to the ground. He started to reach for her again, but a heavy hand came down on his wrist, stopping him.

“Let me.” He hesitated, and turned his face toward the old man. “She is hurt far worse than you think.”

* * * * *

Lily scarcely registered the exchange outside the crackling, electric pain in her side. When she tried to sit up something popped, and took the very breath out of her lungs. Her insides felt heavy and liquid, and it was all she could do to draw in each shallow breath around the pain. Even her heartbeat turned sluggish.

Heavy hands came down on her arm and her side and above her muffled voices argued. Lily couldn’t understand them. She couldn’t really understand anything but the pain, and even that was fading with every labored breath.

A slow, lingering warmth spread from those hands, reaching deep into muscle and bone. Lily was vaguely aware of shifting inside, and the recession of the heaviness, and then blissful dark. Voices were soft and distant, and though she was aware they were speaking of her, it didn’t matter.

Loki was dead. Rowan was free. And Odin himself had just performed some sort of miracle on her. That was enough for one day.

* * * * *

Rowan had no idea what to do. All he could see was that Lily was hurt, dying even. In a moment of panic, he turned toward the old god before him and went down on his knees.

“Please, All-Father, what can I do to help her?”

The old man brushed his hands together and stood, leaning heavy on his staff. “She has three broken ribs. Her lung was punctured by one when she sat up, but that damage has been repaired. It could happen again.” He fixed Rowan with a pointed stare. “She needs a healer. A mortal hospital.”

His jaw worked like a broken hinge for a moment. “I cannot get her back on my own. My power is not that great.”

“Take her up. We must make haste to Heimdall. He will send you home.”

“That is all well and good, but…how do I explain the injuries?” Rowan asked as he lifted her limp body. Odin smiled down at him, his old eyes twinkling.

“Explain it for what it was. A panther attack.”

“But I should not move her.” He glanced around and cringed at the destruction. “How do I explain what happened?” Then it hit him. Just because he and Lily knew Loki was the same panther people had reported didn’t mean everyone else in Savannah did. Odin chuckled.

“Glad to see that brain of yours still works, boy.”

“But…there is no panther on the other side.”

Odin glanced around as if confused, frowned, and lay his chin atop his hands, balanced on the staff. “So I see. Well, perhaps it is time to admit that Loki is not the only one prone to a bit of trickery.” Again, his one visible eye sparkled with mischief. “I will not divulge all my secrets, but suffice it to say your panther problem will be quite solved by the time you get her into the hands of medical professionals.”

Rowan did as he was told and stood, cradling the battered, whimpering girl to his chest. The old man started forward, pausing long enough to stand over Loki’s dead form, sadness curling his lips down.

“My poor, foolish brother. Loki, you should have known better than to take that which was not yours.” Then, chuckling as if proud of himself, Odin closed the distance between them and laid two fingers against Lily’s forehead.

“Whatever you tell the human police, so will be her story too.” He knelt and picked up the ring from the grass at Rowan’s feet and, with it clasped in his hand stood and turned. “It is long past time for this to return to its rightful owner, don’t you think?” Rowan nodded, a small bubble of panic rising at the sight of his ward in the hands of someone else. Odin laughed. “You worry too much, boy. Andvari and his children are long gone.” He turned Rowan’s palm up and laid the ring in it. “This little trinket has caused your family much trouble, and I am sorry to say it was my doing. The treasure and this ring were part of a payment made by Loki and me to your great-great grandfather for the death of his son.” He closed Rowan’s fingers around the cold, metal band. Bringing one hand down on his shoulder, Odin squeezed gently. “Keep this safe, and keep it in the family. You are free to live your life as you see fit now. I have done my part; the rest is up to you, my son. You have come this far…do not let me down now.” Rowan felt something stir in his chest as Odin limped away, looking older and much more frail than he did when he entered the glade. There was only one thing left he wanted—no, needed—to do.

“All-Father, I have one more question.”

He stopped and smiled. “The answer to that question has been right in front of you all along. You will find proof when you return to your world. Now turn north and make haste. Heimdall waits for you.” And in a flash of light, Odin was gone. Rowan opened his hand and looked down at the gold band in his palm. So much trouble over such a little thing…so many years, and so many lives. He slipped it over the tip of his little finger—it was much too small to fit his hands properly—and limped forward, his right leg tender after his scuffle with Loki.

He broke through the tree line as Lily’s whimpers and cries turned to low, gurgling groans. A thin line of blood trickled from her lips toward her shoulder. Frightened by the sight, Rowan picked up his pace, running toward the white marble pedestal where the bifrost stood, a gleaming gold-and-stone portal guarded by the tall man with the ivory horn. Heimdall nodded and lifted the horn to his lips as Rowan approached, and as the low, melancholy sound echoed around them the portal opened, allowing access back to Midgard, and more specifically, Savannah, Georgia.

“Thank you,” Rowan said as he darted into the swirling vortex. His grip on Lily tightened as his sense of balance pitched forward and spit him into the center of the ruined art gallery. He laid Lily carefully on the ground and pulled back the shredded scraps of her dress, but before he could properly assess her injuries paramedics pushed him to the side. He stepped back, glancing sidelong at the dead panther lying inside the foyer, then turned and paced in circles. At some point, Odin had seen fit to give him clothes—he did not remember putting them on and suspected he hadn’t. As the emergency team loaded Lily onto a stretcher, he paced over to the one remaining upright case. Lying atop a stand, untouched except for the litter of glass fragments in its spine, was his father’s book. Scrawled in his father’s hand across the tattered old page were the three words he’d hoped to find all along.