Eye of the Beholder (8 page)

“So you think he was motivated by fear and jealousy?”

“I believe so. He might have thought he could stop Ragnarrok and maintain his place.”

“Wait.” Jeff shook his head quickly, like he was shaking something off. “Weren’t you there when Loki supposedly killed Baldur? I mean, you’re the God of Justice, right? If everything you’re telling us is true, then isn’t that the ultimate injustice?”

Travis winced, regret lining his face. “He’d sent me away on what turned out to be a fool’s errand. I’d been sent to speak with Njord, to see if he’d join us in some silly celebration I don’t even remember now. Of course he chose not to attend, and everything was over and done with by the time I got back. I…” Travis bit his lip. “I wanted to speak to Loki, to find out why he’d done what he’d done, but Odin convinced me not to.”

“You mean he plied you with apple wine and whispered sweet nothings in your ear.” Logan huffed out a breath. “Thanks for the thought, though.”

Travis ignored him.

Jamie felt a tug on her arm. She turned to find Jordan by her side, a worried frown on her face. “Ask him what the true prophecy is.”

“Why?”

“Because if this whole thing is true, Logan dies.”

“Why would Logan die?”

“Because he’s Loki.”

Her head whipped up to stare at Travis. “What?”

Jeff snorted out a laugh. “This keeps getting better and better. Who are Magnus and Morgan?”

Their brothers looked at Jeff in horror.

“Magni and Modi, the sons of Thor and the Jotun Járnsaxa, meant to carry Mjölnir after their father dies at Ragnarrok.”

“So they knew all of this, all along?” Jeff was glaring at them.

“Yes and no. Odin used the power of the apples of Idunn to blanket their minds, as he did with all of the Aesir and their living children.”

“Can you tone it down, glowbug? You’re giving me a headache.” Jeff rubbed his eyes wearily.

“Yes.” Travis’s glow dimmed even further, his features once more clear. “Better?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Jamie was still reeling, but she had to know. “I thought the apples granted immortality?”

“No. I believe Kir and Logan were the first to deduce that they did not, as they were cut off from the source of the apples.”

“Actually, I knew first.” Val stood. “Before you ask, I’m Vali, the slayer of Hodr and the son of Odin and the Jotun Rindr.”

Jamie sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I’m getting a headache.”

Travis’s eyes immediately cleared, the gorgeous blue returning, his glow dying away completely. “You need to lie down. This is a lot to absorb in a small amount of time, and you’re still recuperating.” His voice had lost most of the echo, going back to the same old Travis she thought she’d known.

He bent to pick her up, but she stepped away from him. She ignored his fierce frown at her withdrawal. “No. We need to finish this. I need to know why.”

“Why what, sweetheart?”

She ignored the endearment and focused on the facts. “Why did my grandfather torture me? Who are Logan and Kir? Loki and Baldur, right? And why wasn’t I told any of this?”

“Jordan didn’t know either, not until Logan and Kir revealed themselves to her in her office.”

“Why?”

“They needed help proving that Grimm had been lying to the Aesir and Vanir for centuries, and they wanted Jordan to be the one providing it.”

“Because she’s a good detective?”

“Because she’s the daughter of Frey, the step-granddaughter of Grimm and has the reputation of a woman of honor.” Kir stood, tugging on a chain around his neck. He pulled and twisted, and suddenly a six foot spear, complete with glowing tip, rested in his hand. Suddenly he seemed much, much more than the easy-going man she’d known. He radiated a confidence and power that called to her on a level she’d never felt before. If
this
Kir asked her to jump off a bridge she’d seriously consider it. “Gungnir, the Godspear, the prize Odin covets above all others. Now that I possess it, I am ruler of the Aesir and Vanir.”

“Then where are the other gods? Man, I can’t believe I’m asking that.” Jamie collapsed suddenly, her bad leg giving out on her.

Travis caught her. How he moved that fast she had no idea. “Careful, sweetheart.” He settled her on the chaise, putting her feet up and a cushion behind her head. He then settled in next to her, warning Jeff off with a hot look, and claimed her hand. His other arm went behind her head, encasing her in his warmth. She tried to ignore the stump where his hand should have been. She’d always believed he’d lost it in an accident. Instead, he’d lost it in the jaws of a giant wolf centuries ago.

Centuries
. How the hell was she supposed to wrap her brain around
centuries?

“Some have remained loyal to Grimm, others to Frigg. Njord has stayed in the sea, as expected.”

She eyed Val wearily as he sat on the sofa in the spot she’d vacated to go to Travis.
Tyr
.
His name is Tyr. He’s a freaking
god. “Okay, who’s Frigg?”

“Grandmother.” Jeff sat down on the floor and ruffled his hands through his hair, making it stand on end. “Frigg is Frederica, Odin’s wife and co-ruler of the gods.”

“Ex co-ruler now.” Logan was watching them warily, like he didn’t know which way they’d jump next.

Travis nodded. “Yes.”

“Sydney Saeter?” Jeff glanced at Logan. “Sigyn, right? Your ex-wife? The one who held the bowl and caught the acid the snake dripped on you when you were chained to the mountain for killing Baldur?” Jeff blinked, his gaze darting to Kir as if just making that connection.

Logan nodded. “Sigyn”

“Sybil Donnar?”

“Sif, your father’s ex-wife and the goddess of marriage, of all things.” Logan settled down into the chair Jordan had been sitting in, pulling his wife onto his lap in the process. He started ticking on his fingers. “Frey is Adam Grey, Thor is Fred Grimm, Frieda Grey is Freyja. Who am I missing?”

“Quite a few, but that will do.” Travis rubbed Jamie’s hand absently, his gaze focused inward. “We have other things to worry about now that the truth is out.”

“Like?” Jamie tried to ignore the liquid heat in her belly, but Travis wasn’t helping.

“Like how Grimm lived through the fatal wounds Val gave him, and what he’s got planned next.”

“Oh. That.”

“And how to free Hel, Fenris and Jörmungandr.”

“What?”

“No way!”

Magnus and Morgan leapt to their feet, their outrage clear in their voices and faces.

Travis looked at them and sighed. “You two are fated to wield Mjölner after your father passes. Which means you both survive Ragnarrok. In this, you’re on Baldur’s side. Right?”

They stared at one another before nodding briefly, reluctantly. Jamie shuddered at the thought of her big, gruff father dying. He might be under Grimm’s thumb but he’d done nothing but love his children. She frowned again. At least as far as she knew. Did Mom know all of this?

“Knowing that Odin is the bad guy, and has been from the beginning…”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean that Loki’s children will automatically be good guys.” Jeff bit his lip. Jamie knew her brother was working
something
out in his mind, but she couldn’t tell what it was. “They were imprisoned for a reason.”

“That reason was prophecy. Especially in Fenris’s case.” Travis stared at Logan, sorrow chasing across his face. “Trust me, I know.”

Jamie saw the look Travis and Logan exchanged, and it was not good. “Then we free them.” Everyone turned to her. “I know what it’s like to be tortured by Grimm.” She stared at Magnus and Morgan willing them to understand what she was saying. “How do we know he’s left them alone all this time?”

“He’s left Hel alone. Even
he
doesn’t dare piss off my daughter.” Logan shook his head. “As for my sons, he’s already proven what he’s capable of there.” His hand moved over Jordan’ stomach. “I want this finished before Jordan gives birth.” His fingers curled, making a fist. Flame danced in his eyes. “I won’t lose another child.”

“You won’t. Not if I can help it.”

Jamie smiled at the determination in Travis’s voice. “Count me in too.”

She listened to the inevitable protests. Oddly enough, Travis wasn’t one of the protestors. Neither was Jeff. “I mean it. You are
not
leaving me out of this.”

Travis’s voice was the only calm one. “Fine. But there will be some ground rules. Understand?”

She looked up at Travis and nodded. She wanted to help, but she wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t a god like the others. She was just…Jamie.

“I’m in too, don’t fight me on it, you won’t win, fuck off if you even bother trying.” Jeff stood. “I need beer.” He headed into the kitchen. Everyone could hear him rattling around in the refrigerator. “Jesus, Logan, can’t you buy decent beer? This stuff is goat piss.”

“Then don’t drink it, asshole.” Logan gently pushed Jordan off his lap and went into the kitchen, grumbling about pushy dickheads who were too cheap to buy their own beer.

“And that concludes the mythology portion of tonight’s entertainment.” Jordan grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. “Who wants to watch football?”

“Ugh.” Jamie nudged Travis until he stood. “I’ll be in the den surfing the internet.”

“What for?”

She lied. “I need to check my e-mail.”

She ignored Travis’s narrow-eyed stare as she hobbled into the den. She shut the door gently behind her and booted up the computer.
Smooth move, James, lying to a god of Justice.
Hopefully he’d take the hint and let her be to process everything. Not that she had any intention of thinking about anything to do with the mess her family was currently in. No, sirree.

Time for a little R and R. She typed in her favorite URL and booted up her program, making sure the sound was low enough that none of the others would be able to hear it. She waited until the cheers of the game filtered through the doorway before starting, and was soon engrossed by what she saw.

Jordan was going to kill her if she checked her browser history. But what the fuck. After that little family purge, Jamie could use a little normal.

Whatever
that
was.

Chapter Six

Travis stared at the closed office door and wondered what Jamie was lying about. He knew every expression on that beautiful face of hers, including the one she used when trying to snow him. He’d seen it most often when she’d been dating that cheating jerk ex-boyfriend and trying to make it seem like everything was fine between them. He still had the occasional urge to go find the guy and put the fear of god into him.

“Vincente.” Jeff chuckled, picked up a handful of chips and crammed them in his mouth. Travis wasn’t fooled for a moment. The absent look on Jeff’s face let him know the other man was still processing everything he’d learned.

“Yup.”

“Uh-huh.”

Magnus and Morgan groaned in utter disgust and headed for the kitchen, possibly for their own beers. Val just watched the football game, used to ignoring the antics of his nieces and nephews.

Travis felt a growl trying to crawl out of his throat and ruthlessly swallowed it. “Who’s Vincente?”

They broke down in laughter. “Vincente is…something.” Jordan shook her head, a big grin on her face.

“Sensational,” Jeff drawled.

“Dashing.” Jordan put the back of her hand dramatically to her forehead.

“Breathtaking. A total Spanish hottie.” Jeff shivered dramatically, fanning himself with his hand.

“Oh. Right. Dead.” Travis stood up, ignoring the howls of laughter from the Dork Squad. He moved quietly to the door, pushing it open slowly.

She was hunched over the keyboard, staring intently at the monitor. A flush colored her cheeks, her breath moving rapidly in her chest. She licked her lips and sighed.

Oh, so dead.
He glared and moved behind her, intent on seeing what she was watching. Was she talking to Vincente via webcam? He looked at the top of the monitor, and sure enough, Logan and Kir had one hooked up.

He stopped, stunned, as the action on the screen registered.

A dark haired man sporting a mullet was seducing a poofed-out brunette. “Oh, Vincente, kiss me again. Roberto cannot hold a candle to you, my love.”

“My darling Miranda. How I wish that we could be one.” The mullet-haired man dipped the woman and kissed her deeply. Behind them, a large, ornately carved wooden door opened silently.

“Vincente! How could you? And with
my sister
!”

The pair in the clinch stopped and gasped. “Sylvia!”

It’s a dubbed soap opera. From what, the eighties?

He almost laughed out loud, only stopping himself when he heard Jamie growl softly. “Don’t touch him, you skank.”

He bit his lip at the fierce little whisper, almost losing it when she gasped in outrage as the blonde Sylvia slapped Vincente. “Oh, you bitch. To think I
liked
you.”

He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, and settled down to watch her watch her soap. The way she nibbled at her finger during the confrontation between the three antagonists, the little sob of fear when Sylvia pulled out a gun, the “Yes!” she hissed when Vincente wrestled it away, just endeared her to him more.

She was just so…
passionate
about everything she put her heart into, even something as silly as an old dubbed soap opera. He couldn’t wait to feel all of that passion surrounding him, smothering him in wet, hot heat. The thought of how she would react under his hand, his mouth, his beard tickling her skin and leaving marks behind, had him rock hard in no time.

He was indulging in a little fantasy where he got to feel her pink lips wrapped around his cock when she squeaked. He focused on her face, curious why she was staring at him in horror.

“What?”

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Since Sylvia found out Vincente was cheating on her with Miranda. Why?”

“You didn’t run screaming from the room.”

“Why would I?”

“So you just stood there and, what, watched?”