Mist

wept without making a sound.

Loki approached him with great care. “When did this happen, elskede min? When did it become flesh and blood? Was it born when you found yourself exiled to this world, stalked by loneliness, raging at your fate?” He traced a grotesque shape in the air between them. “Is this the last thing my Jotunar saw before they died?”

The elf shook his head. “Not this,” he said, his voice cracking on the second word.

“Does our little Valkyrie know?” Loki asked. “How can she bear to look at you?” He seized Dainn’s jaw in his hand. “You don’t want it, do you? You couldn’t accept the beast when it was merely a creature of the mind, and this is a thousand times worse. Or better, depending upon your point of view. Look at me, Dainn.”

The Alfr met his gaze, passive in the grip of his own self- loathing.

“Of course,” Loki said. “It all becomes clear. You aren’t serving Freya out of some profound loyalty to the Aesir who rejected your attempt at atonement, or to the goddess who spared you. Not even to Mist herself.” He laughed. “You surely can’t believe even the Lady can cure this malady.” He released Dainn’s chin and patted him lightly on the cheek. “My poor little elf. You don’t control it at all.”

Dainn took a step back, lost his balance and righted himself again. “You asked what I am,” he said. “The beast is a weapon. I do not want it. But it is not completely outside my control, or you would not still be breathing.” His indigo eyes darkened, and his voice grew stronger. “You asked if this was a challenge, a warning, or a threat. It is all of these. You will refrain from attacking Mist and any mortals she takes under her protection until Freya arrives. I will teach you the elf-magic with the understanding that if you should break the oath we make now —”

“Oh, you have made yourself very clear.”

Dainn shuddered like a horse shaking off flies. “You must learn not to provoke the beast.”

“You have not told me how one provokes it.”

“That you will have to discover for yourself.”

“Ah. And what about your mistress? You would give me new power, and in doing so betray the Lady.”

Dainn jerked up his zipper. “I never promised to explain myself to you, Laufeyson.”

“Still, beast or not, you cannot believe I would allow you to break your word to me. You were never—” Loki stopped, caught in the blinding light of comprehension. He whistled softly. “Of course,” he said. “I mistook the nature of your feelings. It isn’t that you’re concerned about protecting Mist from me until Freya comes to Midgard. It isn’t that you see the object of your lust in her daughter. You know that once the Sow gets her claws into Mist, our Valkyrie will essentially cease to exist. And that you cannot bear.”

The way Dainn flinched told Loki just how right he was. “I do not betray Freya,” Dainn said.

“You’re no better a liar than your lady-love,” Loki said. “You’re prepared to sacrifice yourself and Midgard to save her.”

“You will never have Midgard.”

Loki moved closer to Dainn, jealous almost beyond his ability to conceal. “Can you actually be attempting to buy time so that you can convince Freya that there is a desirable alternative to assuming Mist’s body?” he asked. “Oh, my Dainn, you will never stop the Sow from fulfilling her scheme. She has far too much invested in it.” He brushed Dainn’s ear with his lips. “If you give yourself to me, to my cause, there will be no need for this elaborate deception. We, the three of us, can defeat her. She will never be a threat to Mist again.”

Dainn planted his hand firmly on Loki’s chest and pushed him away. “Never.”

“Because you know Mist would never agree. You may have kept her in ignorance of the fate intended for her, but our girl is nothing if not courageous. Wouldn’t she gladly sacrifice her body and soul if she believed it could save Midgard? Will she not hate you when she learns what you’ve done?”

“I do not fear being hated.”

“Perhaps it is even the fate you desire,” Loki said. He pursed his lips. “Since you refuse to see reason, let us be very clear. You will teach me the magic you displayed before your other self put in its appearance. I agree that neither I nor my Jotunar will attack Mist or her mortal associates while they are within a radius of one mile of the loft. All bets are off when any of them step outside those boundaries. Agreed?”

“No. If they step outside that radius—“ “Then they must take their chances. You cannot expect me to stay my hand everywhere in this city.”

It was evident that Dainn was considering refusal. But, in the end, he surrendered.

“Agreed,” he said.

“Everything else is fair game,” Loki said. “ The Treasures belong to those who find them.”

“If they can find them.”

“I have people working on that. And now, what is my guarantee that you will teach me as you have promised? How will I know you are not holding back, or deliberately misleading me?”

Dainn turned and walked unsteadily into the spotless kitchen, found the knife block, and withdrew a chef ’s knife. Loki tensed, but Dainn resumed his place without making a single threatening gesture. He held up his hand and sliced his palm with the edge of the blade. Blood ran down his hand and dripped onto the floor. He offered the knife to Loki.

Startled by the gesture, Loki hesitated. For Dainn to offer the blood-oath to his greatest enemy was almost incomprehensible. In fact, nothing that had happened in the past hour was comprehensible. Dainn was still holding something back.

But he and Loki would be spending some “quality time” together in the very near future. And Loki would learn exactly what that something was.

He took the knife from Dainn’s hand and cut his palm, then dropped the knife to the floor. He held up his hand. Dainn mated his palm to Loki’s. Their blood mingled, as once Loki’s had mingled with Odin’s.

Dainn tried to withdraw immediately, but Loki clenched his fingers around Dainn’s hand and held on.

“Now,” Loki whispered. “Now you can never betray me.”

Dainn wrenched free. “We are not blood brothers, Slanderer,” he said. “I am still your enemy. I do what I must, and no more.”

“Naturally.” Loki held his palm to his mouth and sucked on the wound until the bleeding stopped. “When shall we begin?”

“It must be carefully arranged.”

“Then arrange it quickly, my Dainn.” Loki walked into the kitchen and pulled a snowy white towel out of a drawer. He tossed it at Dainn, who caught it with less than his usual ease. His blood stained the towel crimson, and he dropped it onto the floor beside the knife.

“I quite enjoyed our little discussion,” Loki said. “And who knows? You may change your mind about resuming our former relationship.”

Dainn smiled, an expression as chilling as the beast itself. The effect was ruined by the darkening shadows around his eyes and the trembling of his legs when he backed away. “I will contact you,” he said, turning toward the door.

It opened before he could reach it. Two Jotunar barreled through, dragging a limp form between them.

Mist.

* * *

She regained consciousness lying on a cream-colored leather sofa, her nose clogged with blood and her head pounding.

Loki was standing over her, displaying his full array of very white teeth.

“Well, well,” he said. “Speak of the devil. Her is our little Valkyrie, boldly charging to the rescue. Dainn must have done a very poor job of concealing his intentions. But his judgment does seem to be rather flawed these days.”

Mist bolted up and tried to stand, but nausea overwhelmed her and she sank back to the couch.

“Mist!”

Dainn’s voice. She looked for him and found him standing between the two Jotunar, who stood ready to grab him the second he moved. He had clearly lost the battle. Blood was spattered over the front of his shirt, and his face had that terrible, gaunt look, but he was alive.

“Why did you come?” Dainn asked, anguish in his eyes.