“Hey, you okay, man? You don’t sound so hot.”
“Most of my bones are crushed, my lungs are collapsed, my guts might spill out and my arm is falling off.” The woman groaned. He grimaced an apology. “But you should see the other guys.”
“I don’t care if you hacked the other guys to pieces—”
“I literally did. So make sure you get all the body parts. Ten bodies, corresponding heads, an arm and a hand.”
He winced another look of contrition at the woman’s gurgle of distress. It was hitting her at last.
“You talk as if you aren’t sticking around.”
“I’m not. There’s…something I must see to.”
“Yeah, be cryptic to the man who’s cleaning up your mess.”
“You’ll be the man I hand his ass to if you’re not already on the way.”
“Texted Alvar during this lovely chat. He’s on his way with the truck. I’m on my way, too. Any more orders, O Elder?”
He’d been Endowed ten years before Daven. In one of his more…petty moments, he’d claimed seniority, demanded Daven’s obedience. About three millennia ago.
Daven would probably never let him hear the end of it.
“Any more tidbits you want to share?” Daven prodded.
“Law enforcement will be here any minute.”
Daven snorted. “The mortal variety, no doubt. Loki’s Trickery, man. What kind of mess did you land in feetfirst?”
“Just jacked-up Odinians after my Endowment. And speaking of trickery, their blood is everywhere, so you’re in for some heavy-duty illusion until the blue boys leave.”
“Peachy. How can I thank you for the hangover I have to look forward to?”
Daven had the strongest illusory power among Loki’s Originals. He could create an alternate reality that could con even the gods’ senses. But it came at a price. He wouldn’t have asked Daven to endure the pain, which was severe and lasted for indeterminate periods according to the extent of the illusion, if he could have done it himself.
“I owe you one.”
“With the way I’ll feel for the next few months? Make it ten. And I’ll collect.” He could hear Daven’s breathing becoming audible. He must be moving close to a hundred miles per hour now. On foot. After a moment he said, “You still sound bad. Aren’t you done healing?”
Daven expected him to be getting back to normal. Agony beyond what any injury warranted notwithstanding—the price they paid for healing without scars—he normally would have been. But then again, he’d never been this injured. Maybe there was a limit to their healing abilities. Or Loki, wonder of wonders, had actually listened to him.
But now wasn’t the time to tell Daven he might have convinced Loki to let him die. Daven would be livid Vidar hadn’t given him the chance to beat him out of that intention before he’d demanded it of Loki. And he didn’t want to discuss his possible demise in front of her.
He prevaricated. “Just about.” And since he might never see Daven again, he added, “Thanks, Dav.”
Daven snorted. “Yeah, sure. And if you take a second longer than necessary to report in, I’ll hand you your ass.”
The line went dead.
Vidar looked at the woman. She was still staring at him.
By Loki. How could there be attraction this…fierce? Why now, when he’d thought to end it all? How now, when he was all but torn apart? And why was she, after all she’d seen, looking at him as if she’d take anything he had to offer? Hunger was still emanating from her, more empowering than even Loki’s Endowment.
“You shouldn’t be alive,” she finally whispered. “Let alone fighting, and now organizing…cleanup detail.” First it was protection, now it’s libido, and both on your account, he almost told her. “I’m a doctor.” Now that he hadn’t expected. But what about her had he yet? “I know you shouldn’t be. But that’s based on my knowledge of humans. And you’re…not.”
“Actually, originally, I was human. At least, a subspecies of human…” He stopped. That wasn’t likely to contribute to her desire, now was it? Way to shoot himself in the foot. He huffed in self-deprecation. “It’s…complicated.”
She raised a hand. “You don’t need to explain. Just tell me this. You’ll be okay, won’t you?”