1-800-CallLoki

Chapter 6

Chapter 6Even with the light signal changes and the epic music of Two Steps from Hell rushing from my Phantom’s stereo, I don’t feel like I am getting home very fast. I barely brake, just trusting the car’s responsiveness as I turn onto my country lane driveway and take it from fourth to fifth gear. Usually I like pulling into my brick driveway. It cost a pretty penny to put in, not to mention maintenance, but it looks so damn impressive.

I don’t even have to press a button yet my garage door is opening and lights are already coming on throughout my house. I love my cell phone too. You see, my house is linked to my cellular signal. My home knows as I get close, as evident from the garage door opening, and it knows when I leave and makes sure to shut and lock everything down. I never have to wonder if I left the stove on.

I’ve never worried about my sanctuary before.

Humans have a saying that there is a first time for everything. I’ve never been a fan of first times, especially when they are unplanned or unforeseen.

Let’s face it, it’s not like anyone ever has said, “Let’s go break into Loki’s house.” No. Dwellers on the other realms knew it wouldn’t be smart. Trust me, in the mythology no one ever talks about going into Loki’s hall. Who knew what magic and wards I had set as guardians of my domain, small though it may be. No one ever knew what would be real or illusion. But yes, my ‘children,’ my creations, are very dangerous. At the end of the day, I am still Loki of Asgard. Too long have I been paroled here that someone has forgotten. It reminds me it is due time to serve notice on the gods that I am still here.

Brakes screech as I come to an abrupt halt in my garage. I smell burning rubber as I get out. My poor Phantom. It isn’t her fault. I’ll have someone take her for new tires in the morning. New brake pads too. I have been exceptionally cruel.

I hate being in a foul mood. To be honest, I’m not accustomed to it or very practiced at it. Thor, on the other hand, everything I do displeases him and sets his mood ring red.

“Probably getting a laugh at this now, aren’t you, Brother?” I say as I lift the magnetic flap on my cell phone case and pull out the phone inside. My fingers flash over the keys and the door connecting the garage to the house clicks open.

As much as I wanted to know, to find out if my worst fears are true, I don’t want to enter the house. What if I am right about someone slipping past my defenses into my personal space? What if I find everything I’ve worked for destroyed?

I should’ve used magic to come back faster. I always carry a few extra enchanted strands of Valkyrie hair with me. One never knows when one might need a well-placed spell. But the thought of going from several thousand down to less than a handful...

Gods do not feel fear.

Then why do I feel like I am walking through mud? Come on, Loki, get a grip.

I enter into the kitchen. Late afternoon light spills in through the windows, casting an orange glow on the wooden cabinets and across the black tile countertops flecked with gold. I circle around the center island toward a hallway further inside my home. Generally by now I’d already have my shoes and socks off, preferring to walk across the cool floor barefoot. I have always loved the impressed gray tile floor as it fills me with the sensation of walking across rocks, but now it feels like I am heading to the precipice of a cliff where I will only find fear at the long drop down.

I imagine my sanctuary invaded, glass smashed. One hundred and forty thousand Valkyrie hairs is a lot, enough to cover the head of a Valkyrie. Would the defiler recognize the significance of my collection? Maybe someone wants it for ransom. Can I dare hope?

In passing from the kitchen to the hallway, I cross through the foyer by the front door. I pause at a table where upon the rectangular glass top rests a complete set of Runes, all face down. My hand doesn’t touch any of them as I sense the one I need most right now. I pick up the one that calls to me. The Runes were all handmade by a Buddhist man, carved from redwood and polished to a nice oval, with the symbols burned in. The irony of their creation is not lost on me, but I do enjoy the Zen energy he put into their making.

I rub the smooth wood between my fingers and know what the Rune is before I turned it. Algiz, the protection Rune. I need to be mindful of my actions for they come from emotional decisions stemming from my rooted beliefs. All conflict truly grows from within oneself. Even this I know as I let myself believe someone might actually be out to destroy the means of proving my innocence. I palm the Rune and carry it with me.

The door in the hallway looks undisturbed. Of course, it is all deceiving. At first glance, it appears to be a very old wooden door. I’d actually purchased it from a castle in England which was being updated and modernized. The top to it had a curve which the remodeler had to specially mold when he framed it into the wall for me. Elegant arches like that just aren’t done any more. The original hinges were rusted beyond repair, but I found a blacksmith who could actually shape what I wanted. Most people aren’t even aware that there are still craftsmen keeping the old smithy skills alive.

This entrance, being ancient wood, has only a handle with a latch for a lock. It’s not very secure on its own, but directly behind is a steel door with a keypad lockset. I dial a code only I know into my phone before typing the combination into the keypad. To just try the keypad alone brings a nasty shock to the attempter.

I allow certain people to have access to the other codes around my home, such as the maid. I do want her to come in and clean after all and that does me no good if she can’t get in. My personal assistant is another. There is also the bookkeeper.

Why am I making a mental list of all the people who have access to my sanctuary?

Because they are human.

But they are good people as most humans are and I know everything about their background.

I’m not dealing with a human.

My phone beeps, making me startle. A calling card has been returned.

I stare the screen on the phone while the metal door in front of me remains open. I’ve been on a roll lately, finishing up cases quickly. I only have one calling card out now and it doesn’t have this number. Someone is toying with me. Before it had just been a theory, but this is proof.

Gods do not feel fear.

But they do get angry. I grow tired of ‘let’s trick the trickster’ and decide to put this to an end. If they want to mess with me, they’ll find themselves having a bit of Loki’s mischief right back at them. Let’s play!

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