1-800-CallLoki

Chapter 3

Chapter 3I enter an alleyway not easily seen from the road. Any humans that do happen to stumble into this stomach-churning, saccharine illusion of the perfect American life usually don’t find their way down this far. From here, I have to park my Phantom and get out and walk. There are no other cars here, of course, because the other gods, demi-gods, and magical beings just pop right in. As I exit the car, I morph back to my fantastic black and gold clothes. It won’t do to have someone thinking that I’m just average, but wealthy, Joe Human stumbling down the alley.

I smooth the front edges of my wool cloak where Runes once use to run down the length of it. It had been a gift from Frigga, Odin’s wife. Over the years, I’d watched the magical Runes fade away. They’d been gone for several centuries now, but the ever-growing sadness remains in my heart. I miss Asgard. I miss seeing Jotunheim and Muspielheim. I even miss Svartheim, homeland of the dwarves. Someday, hopefully soon, I will be allowed to return to Asgard.

With a wave of my hand, my simple scepter appears in my hand. I count myself fortunate. The scepter is metal, has a good weight in my palm, comfortable. It is mostly black, but then turns to silver as it works its way up and finishes in golden swirls. In the tip is a small globe which more resembles a fat oval and is actually a piece of white ice, a small frozen remain of my birthland, Jotunheim. Long ago, I had a grander scepter with a much larger piece. The All-Father allowed me to keep this one in my banishment. What an old fool!

I walk to a shanty halfway down the alley. It looks like someone’s old and neglected garage, small and worn out, abandoned, unpainted, and even having the illusion of broken windows. An old sign hangs from a rusty rod. It reads, “Ataraxis Tavern.” As I arrive at the door, a satyr fairy buzzes out of its nest above the security light.

“Hey, you think you can just walk right in there?” the fairy screams at me. A human would hear his voice as a threatening buzz like a wasp, but I hear him clearly.

“I wouldn’t dream of going by without giving you your due, reindeer legs,” I say as I pull a coin from my pocket. Yes, even gods have pockets. I flip the beautiful, shiny, gold coin around in my fingers, letting it sparkle under the single florescent light. Well, it looks golden and that’s what matters to the satyr fairy. He flutters down to my hand all nice and wide-eyed.

That’s when I drop the coin.

“Whoops! Clumsy me,” I say with mock surprise as I hide my sarcastic smile behind the upturned collar of my cloak.

The fairy is still entranced by the coin and mutters something as it dives. Just before it reaches the fancy dollar, I twitch my fingers and the coin stands up on its side. The fairy looks momentarily startled. I flick my finger and the coin starts to roll down the pebbly alley. It swerves to miss rocks that would ordinarily knock it over. The fairy goes bursting after the coin.

Rocking back on my heels, I turn with a smile and open the door.

Ultra-fast techno dance music blazes like a sonic boom in my ears. Wow, so this is what the Greek gods are listening to these days. Give me epic soundtracks any day, music that heats my blood and makes me want to surge into battle.

Great! Now I’m sounding like Thor.

Disco lights circle around on the blue and white tiles of the floor and the sky-colored walls. In the center of the tavern is a rectangular bar with several empty stools around it. Beyond that is a larger area set up with tables and booths. A dance floor seems to cover everything in-between. Curtains draping the windows block out most of the afternoon sun, giving it the pseudo effect of night in here. Fortunately it takes very little for my eyes to adjust to the odd simulated light.

A siren sways her way up to me carrying a corkboard tray with a couple glasses of water and a pitcher. “Hi, hon. Will that be a table for one?” she asks me in that lilting way that would drive mortal men insane. Of course, that was back in the days of old when humans adventured seeking glory and treasure. Now, with humans caring only for the latest sports game on their wide screen, flat panel televisions and their next round of beer, our poor beautiful, brown-eyed, brunette siren is reduced to waitressing. In some ways, she put herself out of her original job. After all, she was the one drowning the adventuresome saps while lazy cowards remained at home to breed. It was merely Darwin’s Theory of Evolution and natural selection in action.

“I’ll start that way,” I reply, already scoping out the tavern for the usual suspects. “I’m sure it won’t stay that way for long.”

She looks me over in that lustful way sirens do and murmurs a positive response. Whatever. On the other hand, it might do good to make a mental note of her being here for the future. A banished god’s nights do get lonely.

Nah... I shred that mental note. Greek sirens are not worth the trouble. It never ends well.

She leads the way to a table situated in the dark against the back wall. Of course, it doesn’t look good with a Norse god in a Greek establishment. Wouldn’t humans be glad to know segregation is still alive and well in the land of the gods too?

“Can I take that table over there?” I ask, trying to sound as sweet and charming as I could. The taste of snake venom invades my mouth and I cringe from the sour it leaves there as another condition of my banishment. Remember ‘I must not tell lies,’ burned onto the back of Harry Potter’s hand. Well, this putrid sensation is the Loki’s punishment version, except I get it whenever I charm with the intent to deceive. Every now and again, I think the enchantment fires off just to remind me that it can. I grab a glass of water off the tray she carries and down it before she utters a word. I wish I could say it helped.

“I suppose we can do that,” she says, starting for the other table. “After all, you did say that you wanted others to join you.”

I don’t correct her wrong assumption. Let her infer what she will from my words. “What’s the bartender’s best drink?”

She had started to put down a menu but stops and folds her arms over it against her chest. “Oh, that would be the Cold Sparkling Firework Belly-Flop.”

“I’ll start with that and see where the evening takes me from there.”

“Sounds great, hon. I’ll be right back with it.” She gives a wink and a snap of her gum as she twists back around and heads toward the bar, weaving between the jumping and shaking bodies of several dancers who look like they’d had the Firework Belly-Flop themselves.

I feel uncomfortable and it takes me a moment to figure out why. I was use to attending civilized parties thrown by wealthy humans. Here on Midgard, my presence is expected and sought after. I’d stroll in, let myself be known as best as any human could perceive me, then I’d leave back to my solitude. But here, it is no different than a meeting of the gods on Asgard with the wild thrashings and the loudness of it all except for the fact that we’d always had splendid Asgardian parties after great battles. Festivities like this were for working off the excess energy in the warriors’ blood after the preceding fight.

I tap my foot against the floor as my fingers drum on the table. I begin to wonder when I will receive back the calling card. I also wonder if the satyr fairy had caught the golden coin. If he has, does he realize yet that it is a human dollar and worthless to him save for it being a shiny object? I might have to watch for a pissed-off fairy dust trap as I leave.

The techno music fills me with a need for a fight. Not the music itself, but the bravery it instills, the need for rejoicing after victory! To fight and live to fight another day.

I really am starting to sound like Thor.

The siren returns with my drink and sets it atop a marble patterned napkin on the polished table. “Just call, hon, when you’re ready for another one.”

I pick up the clear goblet and swirl the blue liquid. Inside the glass, little fireworks go off, but instead of gravity pulling the raining ends of the firework down toward the bottom, they rise to the surface and snap as they pop and sparkle out of the fluid. It really is like watching fireworks from beneath them, except I am watching them from above. A human’s perspective from the god’s view. How very quaint and interesting.

I sip of the fine, succulent berry wine and find it enjoyable. I might even be tempted to order up a bottle to take home with me. An elegant change from the hard meads Frey generally brings me. I try to imagine Thor drinking this and instantly imagine the satyr fairy doing leaps and pirouettes while it chases the coin. This is definitely a drink far too refined for Thor’s taste buds. Mine are attuned. I might be thinking myself similar to Thor, but I’m not becoming him. Yet maybe if I had been more like him, I wouldn’t be here now.

Which rounds me back to my current mission: find out who had sent the Minotaur after the human and for what reason.

That’s when I find out why the drink is called a Belly-Flop.

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