No such luck, Bryn.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Almost an hour later, we reached the outskirts of Brooklyn where we all alighted, stretched, and grabbed luggage before jumping off the Jeep as quickly as we could manage it. The moment we were all out, the driver gunned the engine and was off, giving Derek a wave out the window and honk of the horn.
Then Derek turned and led us around a decrepit old building with broken windows boarded up by wet, stained cardboard. From the odd clothing line hanging from a random window, it looked like the building was occupied by squatters or the homeless.
"Where are we?" I asked, a little concerned with the area.
"We're in Brooklyn. This tenement is meant to be abandoned, but there are a few occupants so we should be probably be careful and keep away from the building itself. Come, it's down here." He pointed at a path at the side of the building.
We followed him around to the back and across an abandoned parking lot, its cracked concrete filled with weeds and the odd daisy bobbing on the wind. Down a ragged flight of broken steps he went, then a sharp left. We hurried after him and came to a sudden stop beside a gigantic sewer pipe that also looked pretty abandoned. Rusty red water dribbled along on the bottom of the concrete pipe. The entrance was blocked by a row of metal rods that were concreted into the outer edges of the pipe.
I couldn't see a way in, but when I looked at Derek, he'd already headed off to one side of the pipe. He went around the outer edge, pushing past a bunch of overgrown plants that he held back to reveal a small metal door. An entrance to the pipe.
He pulled the door open, saying, "It's not locked. Can't be when we get the odd arrival here."
I frowned, a little unimpressed with the location. "Who would use this entrance if they knew there were others available?" I asked, knowing there were two other entrances to the Bifrost in the city. Both of which, although they would be hard to use in broad daylight, would have served as better options than this one.
Derek walked over the threshold and allowed us to enter before closing the door. Then he said, "The Central Park Bifrost has been fully compromised. The site's been restructured, more police, more cameras. Too many robberies and rapes in that area recently, so the city decided enough was enough. So that entrance is closed off to us now."
"Would people know not to use it?" I asked, thinking the management of the Bifrost and all its parts would be more than a full-time job.
Derek nodded. "Heimdall knows. He's already closed that entrance off."
I didn't respond, just examined the gritty, abandoned inside of the concrete pipe. The ceiling had been penetrated by stubborn plants, which now hung almost halfway down the height of the pipe. I imagined the shock that new arrivals from other realms would have to arrive here in the midst of abandoned civilization.
Then Derek called the Bifrost and we stepped through quickly. By now, I was used to the unsteady and strange feelings that using the bridge of the gods did to me. To be frank, having just experienced a different method of inter-realm transport, I preferred to use Gungnir. I planned to come up with a way to better picture a place I'd never been to before.
For now, I decided to make do.
When I landed, my feet hit the ground hard and I immediately knew something was wrong. Wind gusted against me, taking the strands of my hair and tugging them hard. I stared around me, shocked and glad I didn't step forward. Maybe it wouldn't have mattered since I had wings, but seeing as I stood on a thin ledge, staring down into a deep canyon, it would not have been a pleasant shock.
I sucked in a stunned breath, my eyes darting around me. There was only one reason for this hijacking of my Bifrost travel. He'd done it once before, and I wouldn't put it past him to do it again.
"Loki." I screamed the name into the wind, and sure enough, he appeared beside me, standing a foot from me on the same ledge. His blue eyes shone, his hair flew around his face courtesy of the wind, and a cheerful smile curved at his lips.
"Hello, Bryn." He spoke as if we'd just met for a coffee and a donut at a diner around the corner.
"What the hell are you doing?" I shouted at him. I'd long ago dispensed with the need to be respectful to this particular god.
"My dear sister, is that the way one greets a brother you haven't seen in a while?"
I scoffed. "You are no brother of mine." I glared at him, then decided to cut to the chase. "Stop wasting my time and tell me what it is you want."
He laughed. "I always liked that about you. You are straightforward. No messing about." He pursed his lips and rubbed his chin, leaning against the reddish stone cliff behind him as if unaware we were close to the open jaws of a canyon. At last he said, "I want Gungnir, and I want you to go home to Craven and forget about all this Valkyrie and Ragnarok nonsense. Yes, that is what I want."
"I don't have time for your games."
"Come now, Bryn. I've been honest. I told you what I want. Gungnir, of course. You can ignore that little comment about forgetting. That would mean you would forget me and we certainly can't have that, can we?"
I glared at him. "I'm not giving you Gungnir and that is final."
He sighed. "Well, I guess I will just have to take it, then, won't I?" he said, shaking his head as if it were all my fault. He jumped from the ledge, and though my eyes told me he should fall like a stone, he didn't. He'd given himself wings. Nothing Valkyrie-like though. These wings were black with large feathers, as if he'd borrowed a pair of raven's wings. He even tilted his head like a bird, watching me as he hovered not a few feet away.
He opened his right hand and a sword materialized in it, glinting dangerous in the sunlight. He opened the other palm and a dagger appeared. He held both weapons forward and in front of his face, then said, "Ready when you are, sister."
"I didn't come here to fight," I said, although I really would have liked to cut him to pieces.
"Too late," he snapped, his eyes flaming for a moment.
I shook out my wings and stepped off the ledge, pulling my sword from its sheath and a dagger from the holster at my thigh in a single smooth move. I drew them forward, mimicking Loki's stance, only I held the dagger hilt forward instead. Loki wasn't wasting any time. He threw himself at me, lunging and thrusting his sword at my midsection. I spun away and flew around him, avoiding the blade by not more than an inch.
Loki growled, frustrated that I wasn't making it easy for him. He flew at me again, his wings sending a gust of air at me, so strong I had to struggle to keep my balance. Fury rippled through my veins, heating my limbs and firing my strength. He swiped his dagger at me, and I drew my head back just in time or he would have sliced my cheek open. He certainly had a thing about damaging my face.
Losing patience, eyes flaming with fire, he made a wide swipe at me. Borne by the wave of rage, I parried hard, catching his sword with my dagger, the blow sending sparks flying. I used my sword to attack his unprotected abdomen and plunged it into his ribs. He howled and tumbled in the air away from me. Finally, he straightened and held a hand to his side. "You are getting good."
He didn't know the half of it.
I was breathing hard, my nose wrinkly at the odor in the air, a scent of copper and warmth, a smell that lit up my senses and brought fury to my breath. I lunged again, not waiting for him to attack. He darted out of the way, then swiped at me, his own rage responding.
When he struck again, I spun out of the way and flew over him, turning upright smoothly at his back. I placed the tip of my dagger at his back, just behind his heart. I had him and he knew it.
"Did you have to go and spoil my fun?" He sounded like a little boy having a playground spat.
"I didn't come here to fight, Loki," I repeated. "Don't make me end this right here." I poked the tip of the knife into his flesh, but I knew it was just a bluff. Even if I stabbed him, wounded him in any way that threatened his life, he'd just disappear off somewhere to repair and recuperate, only to return another day to persecute me.
I left him hovering there and flew around until I was facing him again.
Loki pouted at me. "What do I need to do to make you hand it over?"
"Nothing. There is no reason in this world I would give the spear to you." I spoke the words, but my mind was already turning over an idea.
"How about a life for the spear, then?" he asked pleasantly. When I turned to stare at him, he smirked. "See, I knew you could be swayed. The lives of your loved ones are far too important to you, my dear."
"Maybe they are, but what do you understand about it when you have no feelings, no care for the people around you?"
"Oh dear, you sound so morbid now." He tut-tutted me, waving a finger in warning. "We'd best get on with it, then. You can have Thor and then you give me Gungnir."
I waited for a while, trying to guess if he was playing me. "Where is he?"
"Oh, he is quite safe. Give me the spear and then you get Thor."
"Do I have 'stupid' written on my forehead?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "As soon as I give you the spear, you'll be gone. Bring Thor to me and then we can trade."
He sighed dramatically. "Fine. Follow me and you can get your brother."
He pushed himself off the edge of the ledge and dived straight down. In seconds, he surged back out of the canyon in the familiar form of the dreaded falcon. I shook out my feathers and jumped, flapping my wings and gliding after the gigantic black bird.