Mischief's Mate (The Immortal Mates Book 1) (7 page)

Unfortunately the landing was just as treacherous as the trip had been. Loki landed in a kneeling position; knees bent and fingertips touching the ground. He stayed that way a moment longer then he would have liked. But it was either that or stumble around as if he were drunk on the best mead the immortals had to offer.

Dusting himself off, he headed in the direction of his mother’s home. Loki received several odd looks and he wondered what these mortals were looking at. They should have been looking on him in fear and wonder; yet here they were snickering.

An uneasy feeling settle over him. The way they were pointing and laughing, brought back unpleasant memories of his childhood. He had been teased by Thor and his friends unmercifully back then. When he would go to his father for help, Odin would not bother to punish the crown prince. His father would often tell him that Thor was helping him learn a great lesson; out of great suffering comes great knowledge.

His father was right on that, his suffering had taught Loki to wait until the time was right to exact his revenge. Too bad for him Thor was a tattletale. His father would lecture Loki about learning to get along. In those days there had been a lot of talk about letting bygones be bygones. Rubbish, all of it.

He was brought forth from his thoughts by a young mortal calling out to him, “Where’s the geek convention?”

Loki looked down at his clothes and mumbled, “Shit!”

He had forgotten to change out of his battle gear. It was a force of habit to put it on first thing in the morning. After centuries of doing the same thing it was second nature and now these sniveling little mortals were making a spectacle of him.

Loki’s jade eyes flashed fire and an evil smile spread over his handsome face. The mortals should have been shaking in their pants, but they just stood there laughing, oblivious to their fate.

With a wave of his hands the ringleader’s laces were tied together. From around the corner came the low rumble of a dog growling. As the sound of the dog grew closer his vicious barks and snarls became louder.

The young man’s friends ran, but as Loki’s adversary took a step he fell forward. The barking grew louder every time he struggled with his laces. The boy was so frightened that he finally kicked his shoes off. In a flash he was up and out of sight, but not before Loki noticed a growing wet spot on the boy’s pants.

With a second wave of his hands the barking ceased. Loki moved on down the block, a laugh erupting from his lips. Perhaps the young mortal would think twice before opening his mouth next time.

The heavy smell of antiseptic stung Chantelle’s nose and had her heartbeat doubling the moment she walked into the doctor’s office. She knew that this was just a routine check-up; there was nothing to worry about. At least that’s what the doctor had assured them.

Even though she wanted to believe him for Emma’s sake, she couldn’t. There had been too many horror stories shared in the waiting room. Chantelle had been to all the “Living with Cancer” meetings and she knew that with brain tumors you had less of a chance than most.

Her chocolate eyes darted to Emma’s face and a sigh of relief slipped from her lips. Chantelle watched as she sat there eyes closed, breathing slowly. She was doing the soaking exercise Frigga had taught her; it was a way to flow with God.

“Miss Hale, the doctor will see you now.”

Emma’s eyes slowly opened as she rose from her seat in the waiting room. Both ladies moved into the inner office; one ready to accept whatever the doctor told her, the other just wishing she could make it all better.

A deep hurt filled Chantelle’s heart as she walked beside her sister. She had promised to keep her safe and here she was failing her. Of course the rational side of her knew that there was nothing she could do to stop fate. But there was that part of her that wanted to rage against whoever was responsible for her sister’s illness.

The nurse ushered them into the four by six examination room. Chantelle couldn’t help but wonder why the damn room wasn’t bigger. Wouldn’t it have been more comfortable if the room was bigger? Emma gave her an odd look as she sat upon the table, its paper covering crackling as she got comfortable.

“I’m just going to take your vitals while we wait for Dr. Berger.” The young nurse patted Emma’s arm as if this was her first rodeo.

“Yep. I know the drill.” She took off the black and purple hoodie she had taken from Chantelle’s closet, that read, ‘I dig medieval men’, rolling up her sleeve for the blood pressure cuff.

Chantelle rolled her eyes at how blasé her little sister was. If she hadn’t witnessed Emma’s reaction to her diagnosis and treatment with her own eyes, she would have never believed it. She was always joking about it. Saying things like, she was cold all the time because, she was already dead but just too stubborn to lie down.

Chantelle of course thought some of her jokes were in poor taste and often told her that. Emma would just shrug it off. Telling Chantelle this was her way of dealing. The cancer couldn’t beat her if all it was to her was a joke.

“You’re vitals are excellent.” That one sentence had Chantelle feeling better.

“The doctor will be in shortly.” The nurse left them in silence.

“When Dr. Berger gets here, please for the love of God, don’t make any jokes.”

Emma cocked her head to the side as if she were examining her. “And why not?”

“Because it’s not appropriate.” Her voice was stern but her eyes were soft.

“Not appropriate?” She shrugged her frail shoulders, “I’m not gonna act as if I’m dead, ‘Telle. So deal with it.”

That’s not what she had meant. Chantelle didn’t want her baby sister to give up her fight, just the opposite. But she needed to treat this as something serious, not just another thing to crack a joke about. She knew she shouldn’t have said anything. It was hard enough for a sixteen year old without being constantly reprimanded. Emma had found her own way of handling this. Chantelle knew she shouldn’t put a damper on it.

“I’m sorry.” It came out a whisper but she knew Emma heard it from the way she sat straighter.

“You should be.” She turned her hazel eyes toward her older sister, “I need to deal with this my way and you need to respect that.”

There was a curt retort on the tip of Chantelle’s tongue, but one look at her sister’s tired expression and it died where it was. What could she say when Emma was right? Everyone had their own way of coping, her’s just happened to be humor.

Before either of them could say anything further Dr. Berger walked in. He smiled warmly at Emma and nodded in Chantelle’s direction. A wave of hope hit Chantelle as she took in Dr. Burger’s expression. He didn’t look like a man bearing bad news. She felt her spirits lift and a feeling of calm swept through her.

This was it, he was going to tell them that the tumor had shrunk down to nothing and there would be no need for Emma to continue with her treatment. Her little sister could finally live the life of a normal teenager. Or as normal a life as a Halflings’ life got at least.

“Good afternoon.” He took a few sheets out of the charts, flipped through the pages and then met her eyes.

“Now Miss Hale, it seems that there was some shrinkage from the last time.”

Chantelle shifted in her seat, “How much?” She needed to know it had shrunk down to nearly nothing. That’s what she wanted to hear, anything else just wouldn’t do.

Dr. Berger averted his eyes and Chantelle felt herself deflate. “A millimeter.” His eyes flashed up to meet Chantelle’s.

Was he joking? Why hadn’t the damn thing gotten any smaller? Emma had been suffering through chemo for three months and for what? One god-damned millimeter? Chantelle wanted to scream at the injustice of it all.

She took a steadying breath; Emma did not need to see her lose her cool. “So what does that mean?”

“Well, Miss Hale, it means your sister will need another round of Chemo.”

Chantelle wanted to ask him what other choice there was, but Emma jumped in. “Sure. Make the appointment.” Her hazel eyes caught and held Chantelle’s sorrow filled brown ones.

Dr. Berger was writing something on her chart, “Hey doc?” His eyes shot up to meet her’s, “Got any meds with good side effects?”

“Good how, Miss Hale?” He had quirked his eyebrow in anticipation of one of her many jokes.

Emma’s eyes sparkled with mirth, “Oh, you know. Something along the lines of, caution this drug may cause extreme sexiness.”

Chuckling Dr. Berger excused himself, leaving the two Hale ladies to their thoughts. Emma’s mind told her she was just going to have to man up and fight this. Chantelle’s told her she should have made things better. Grabbing her coat she walked out of the office with Emma at her side. They would fight this thing together as they always had.

The soft tinkle of bells announced the arrival of Chantelle and Emma. Frigga came gliding out of the backroom, a tea service in her arms. It was as if she had expected them, even though Chantelle wasn’t due in for another two hours. It never ceased to amaze her how Frigga always knew when they were coming.

“Good morning ladies.” Her eyes were alight with mischief and it had Chantelle wondering just what was up her sleeve.

“Morning Lady Frigga.” Emma curtsied and both women giggled seeming to share some inside joke.

Chantelle knew she should have never told her about those myths. Emma had a very vivid imagination and she should have known she would get carried away. She couldn’t tell her now that a fairy tale was just that, it would crush Emma. Besides, the Academy had proved otherwise.

“That’s just a myth. You know better from your studies.”

But Frigga’s eyes were still alight with her laughter. “I quite like being compared to such a lovely figure. She could always address me as Medusa.”

Emma cracked up at her and Frigga’s inside joke. She knew more about Frigga than she let Chantelle know. There was a secret of epic proportions that her sister could not know until the time was right. Even then she wasn’t sure if Chantelle wouldn’t blow like Mount St. Helen’s.

“Nah, you could never turn men to stone with your eyes. That’s ‘Telle’s job.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chantelle stood before the two women her arms crossed over her chest, a smile fighting to break free.

Hands up in surrender, Emma said, “I just meant that you would sooner turn a guy to stone then give him the right time of day.”

Ok, so her baby sister was right. Chantelle had a nonexistent social life, but it wasn’t because she was an ice queen. It was more the fact that she had responsibilities more important than dating.

Chantelle chose to ignore the rest of their banter as she made her way over to the counter, fetching her sketchbook and pencils. She opened to an empty page running her hand over the unmarred surface reverently. Her right hand chose a 2BH pencil of its own accord. As her pencil moved across the page it left in its wake a trail of male perfection.

Chantelle was faintly aware of her companions enjoying their tea. But her focus was solely on the task at hand. What truly held her captive was the image unfolding before her and its meaning. These couldn’t be any ordinary dreams. They had always been too vivid. Too real. As if she was connected to the man in her dreams somehow.

“Chantelle, did you hear me?” Frigga had paused, tea cup in midair.

Her chocolate eyes darted up from the finished black and white sketch before her, “Sorry, I was thinking.”

“It’s alright dear. I was just telling Emma that I found a book you might be interested in.” She gestured with one elegant hand toward the book next to Chantelle.

Putting her pencil down, she looked over at the large leather bound book. Her eyes traced the elegant gold script on the cover; Tales of the Norse Gods. Slowly as if in a trance, she pulled the book closer to her and noticed a bookmark halfway through. Curiosity got the better of Chantelle, as she stood with the book coming to join Frigga and her sister. Sitting, she opened to the marked page; as her eyes moved over the page she felt like screaming.

There before her was an image of the God of Mischief. It wasn’t an exact replica of her magic man, but it was damn near close. So much so that she felt her skin tingle and her cheeks flush. Chantelle ran her finger over the image as she read the entry.

Loki: the God of Mischief and Lies was noted to be a shape shifter and sorcerer. He has a love for riddles and games.

Riddles? Hadn’t the dark haired man in her dreams asked her a riddle? What had it been? She searched her memories trying to recall. It had been something about keeping and giving away.

Slowly his velvet voice brushed against the walls of her memory, “What is it you can keep only after giving it to someone else?”

Chantelle closed her eyes trying to figure out the answer. It had to be something simple, most riddles had simple answers. Answers that always hid in plain sight; much like the beings who belonged to the immortal race.

But what could it be? A kiss? No, you didn’t keep a kiss. Then like she had been hit by lightning it came to her. Your word. If you were honorable you would keep your word after you had given it.

“’Telle, what’s the matter?”

Her eyes darted up from the page and she realized they were waiting for an answer. She couldn’t answer their question as she didn’t know what they had asked and her silence was causing her to look like a fool.

“What were you saying?”

A look of worry passed between the two women across from her, “I asked you what you said. It sounded like, you said your word.”

Chantelle didn’t know if she should tell them or not. They were going to think she had gone mental, or maybe they already thought that?

“I was trying to figure out a riddle from one of my dreams.” But both women still looked at her as if they weren’t following. “In one of my dreams he asked me to answer a riddle.”

She didn’t need to elaborate on who he was. They knew. She didn’t dream of anyone or anything else. It was always her dark haired, green eyed lover.

“Well?” Her sister prodded her forward.

“What can you keep only after giving it to someone else? The answer is your word.”

Frigga patted her arm in reassurance, “What made you think of that, dear?”

Chantelle turned the open book toward them, hoping that by looking they would understand. Her chocolate eyes watched as they looked at the image before them. At that moment she wished she could read minds, instead of manipulate emotions, because their expressions were giving nothing away.

“I see you’ve found Loki.” There was something akin to motherly affection in Frigga’s voice.

“Damn, ‘Telle he looks like Mr. Hottie from your dreams.” Emma nudged Frigga and a secret smile passed between the two.

That was exactly what she had been thinking. It was like whoever illustrated this book had dreamed the same dream. A spark of jealousy filled her at the thought of him visiting someone else in the dark of night. Persuading some other woman to be his. Chantelle couldn’t understand why she felt this way. After all, the man she was dreaming about was a figment of her imagination, wasn’t he? Maybe she had seen an image of Loki when she was younger. Children have vivid imaginations. Who’s to say that she wasn’t lonely enough as a child to start dreaming about this guy? God? Well immortal really, they weren’t gods.