In Which Loki Uses a Toothpick and Ken Loses a Fight with a Library
Sneaking into the Sydney Doering residence had been a cakewalk.
The mansion was equipped with the best and most expensive security systems that money could buy, and quite a good number of those were laced with spelltech of the technically-not-yet-legal-to-implement sort that only the very wealthy could get away with.
From their perch atop the high wall, Loki admired the impressive motion sensors strategically placed around the perfectly manicured lawn. Despite Invierno’s natural magical dampeners, the spelltech equipment resembled giant bowls of fluctuating energy, brilliantly bright in their vision, though invisible to everyone else. It must have taken an enormous amount of money to pay for the number of glyphs required to power this kind of surveillance.
The motion sensor spells were threaded throughout the back lawn like a giant cobweb, an obstacle course practically daring them to complete it.
Loki could never turn down a challenge.
Their fingers felt inside a pocket, fished out a small vial that they soon uncorked. A fine mist rose out from it, covering the lawn within seconds and, most importantly, shielding them from the cameras’ view. Half a minute later, it was as thick as split pea soup. Any normal person wouldn’t be able to see a few feet in front of them, in any direction.
Loki didn’t need to. They reached behind their ear, found the small toothpick they’d stashed there, and placed it firmly between their teeth.
Then they leaped.
Their feet made no sound when they landed, when they cartwheeled through the first set of sensors, slipping easily past the spaces between the threads. They scrambled partway up a tree and backflipped over a denser cluster, and then eased their way through the last remaining yards, sliding into the open garden patio just as the mist began to dissipate, leaving the garden as pristine as they had left it, their presence undetected.
West’s particular skill set meant he had an easier time of it than Loki. Having already shifted back into human form, he was waiting for them just outside the sliding glass that divided the back porch from the inside of the residence, half-hidden by some well-trimmed bushes.
Loki reached into their backpack and tossed a pair of pants his way. The boy opened his mouth to argue.
Loki stopped him with a shirt to the face. “Zoe made it very clear you can’t go in naked, West.”
He pouted but shimmied into his clothes all the same.
A rock song blared through several loudspeakers, threatening deafness. The town might not be predisposed toward magic, but the people inside were using enough spelltech for Loki to use the discharges as a kind of echolocation. Spells molded around the auras of teens passed out on couches and chairs, or those dancing to the music. They were counting on both the dim lighting and the partygoers’ poor life choices to proceed unnoticed.
West’s insistence on wearing his carpet of fur had been met with puzzled glances, but most people were too buzzed to say anything. For the better part of fifteen minutes they drifted from room to room; West would glance in and take in a quick noseful of booze and cigarette smoke, only to sadly shake his head. Loki kept an eye out for any disruptions in the air that might signal more shades. His Highness was proving to be difficult to find, but impatience now would get them nowhere.
Loki didn’t like crashing parties. Their idea of a good time was climbing a tree. West had more experience attending these sort of social functions, but the nobles who fell over each other inviting him and his family to events were willing to overlook his personal idiosyncrasies for the Eddings’ status. And as the night wore on and it became clear that Alexei Tsarevich was nowhere on the premises, Loki was all for leaving—after they’d searched the second floor, because they were nothing if not thorough.
There were even fewer people on the upper landing, all more inclined to be making out than dancing or drinking. There were far more rooms than Loki thought a house should have. “Anything?” they asked, speaking around the toothpick still clamped in their mouth.
“Not really.” West had his hands over his nose, already looking hungover. “Everyone stinks. Why do they like poisoning themselves this way?”
“They’re rich buttholes, West. Comes with the territory. If Alex isn’t here, we’ll still need to keep an eye out for the rabbit hole and hope we don’t have to dig up their garden to find it.”
“The phones aren’t working!” they heard one of the girls cry out, frustrated, as she jabbed at one of the keys with a bright pink nail.
“What’s a phone?” West asked.
Loki didn’t bother to answer. Their attention was elsewhere—specifically at a lone shadow that was steadily climbing up one of the walls, manifesting enough dark magic to power the whole house. Once it reached the ceiling, it opened suddenly red eyes at them, bared its wide mouth tipped with sharp fangs, and hissed. “So, that’s how it’s gonna be,” they murmured. They took the toothpick out of their mouth; a flick of their wrist, and it was now a long staff.
The shadow hissed, but Loki was already moving. They changed the angle of their thrust and the rod’s size lengthened , quadrupling its range.
The pole slammed into the lurking shadow’s approximation of a face. It lost its grip, tumbled onto the floor, still twitching from the blow.
“West,” Loki said, but the boy was already on the move. He threw the fur over his head again, and a large mastiff now stood in his place, frothing at the mouth and baring its own set of painfully sharp teeth. The girls in the hallway were screaming and scrambling back, but West ignored them. In two bounds, he was on top of the shadow, snapping at its faceless face. The shadow shrilled as an incorporeal arm came flying off, only to dissolve as it hit the plush carpet.
West made for a particularly vicious dog. By the time he was done, there was nothing left of the shade, and the girls had fled.
West trotted back to Loki. He stood on his hind legs and peeled the fur off his head, revealing the boy underneath once more. “Zoe’s not going to be happy about this,” he said nervously.
A shiver rippled up Loki’s back, and they sensed the explosion before it actually happened. They only had time to grab West and yank them both out of the way before the incoming shock wave nearly swept them off their feet. The ground underneath shuddered apart, the front wall of the mansion coming down upon itself. Looking over the debris, Loki saw black smoke billowing out of a large hole that now took up most of the Doering’s lawn.
“The rabbit hole, I guess?” West offered weakly.
Loki swore.
A loud bellow came from somewhere inside the hole as if in response.
“That wasn’t a person,” West said, looking out at it through the window. From within that newly formed crater, something large moved.
“Better get used to the idea, West.” Loki raised their staff. “We’ve got trouble.”
* * *
Kensington’s six-foot-three-inch frame made hiding behind a pushcart several inches shorter fairly challenging, and a little embarrassing. Quite a few puzzled staff members had seen him trying to be unobtrusive while being anything but, before he’d finally learned to tuck himself completely out of sight.
People who knew Ken well would have asked what he was doing in a library to begin with. He didn’t mind books all that much, but he was a big fan of noise and the sound of his own voice, and liked to exercise that right as often as was humanly possible.
He watched carefully as the shade he’d been tracking drifted from bookcase to bookcase, invisible to every eye but his. But soon another shadow joined the first, followed by a third, and a fourth. He knew it was getting late and that the public library was practically devoid of people by now, though it was one of the few places still open in the area.
Ken scowled. He’d hoped to destroy the lone scout before it could alert any more of its fellows, but already something felt wrong. Shades hated daylight, but when it had first appeared at the school cafeteria, it was still a long way till nightfall. It had also been a pain in the ass to track, given how well they clung to natural shadows, and he knew Zoe was going to kick his ass for wasting so much time on this.
Shades, shadows. Loyal minions of the Snow Queen. Like their fellow nightwalkers (ogres, Deathless, chimeras), they obey her every command. They weren’t supposed to survive in Invierno. That the Snow Queen could overcome even that was a terrifying thought.
Without making a sound, he set his guitar case on the floor, pulling down the zipper to reveal two swords. The first was a katana, bathed in a dazzling white glow. The other was a shorter wakizashi blade that was a shiny obsidian black.
His hand hovered briefly over the black sword before, with a resigned sigh, he selected the other instead. Then he got into position, took a deep, quick breath, held it in for a second, then slowly exhaled, the muscles in his arm contracting as they always did before he struck.
There was a low, chittering sound. On the ceiling directly above his head, a shadow larger than the others loomed over him and grinned, baring rows upon rows of sharp, knifelike teeth.
“Die!” Ken said, and swung the sword.
There was a thunk. He’d made a small miscalculation, and his sword had stopped a few inches from the shade’s face. The bright blade had glanced off a book caught in its upward trajectory and had done no damage. Both boy and shadow gazed down at the blade. Then Ken looked back at the shade, whose teeth had lengthened considerably.
“Aw, bollocks.”
The shadow leaped.
Ken’s second attempt with the blade was more successful. This time, the sword caught the shade right along its midsection, slicing it almost effortlessly in two. The pieces landed on the floor with a nasty clunk, melting away. The other shadows, alerted by the sound, converged on Ken, sprouting claws, talons, and, in some cases, a second mouth filled with just as many razor teeth as the first.
Two of the lunging creatures were dispatched in the same manner, but several more slammed into him before he could raise the blade a third time, sending him into one of the bookshelves. The bookcase fell onto the one behind it, which in turn fell over the next, and the next, culminating in a disastrous domino effect that rendered more than half the library into complete shambles in less than two minutes. The few patrons still loitering fled, shrieking.
Struggling out from between two fallen shelves, Ken crawled frantically to his guitar case, but was yanked back. A shade had latched on to his foot; he could feel incisors digging deeply into his flesh, drawing blood. Ken kicked out, hitting it square in the face with his boot. Gritting his teeth against the quick flinch of pain, Ken neatly decapitated it with one broad stroke, then stabbed it again for good measure. The bright sword sang through the air, making short work of the rest.
When the last of the shades disappeared, Ken found himself sprawled on the floor, surrounded by piles of books, dislodged shelves, and loose papers that floated down, settling on his nose.
“Stupid shade. What did he have to go and bite me for?” Gingerly, he waggled his toe, relieved that it was only a scratch. “Blasted thing better not have rabies.”
He turned his head. The second sword lay beside him, a bright and inviting black.
“No,” he told it. “I’m still not using you.”
Something large and vaguely threatening loomed over him. Ken could sense it even through the stack of papers blocking his vision. He nudged them to one side.
A librarian stood over him, hands over her hips. She did not look happy. “What,” she began, in a voice that could be heard for miles around, “do you think you’re doing?”
There wasn’t much he could say to that. “Uh. Saving the world?”
It was almost a blessing that the wall behind them exploded before the woman could strangle him.