Eighth Thor/Being Human Crossover: Chapter Fifty-Eight
Notes: Obviously timelines in this story have gotten quite tangled, but it might help to keep in mind that many scenes happen simultaneously. It's now about four in the morning.
Incidentally, since Housemates takes place in an entirely alternate universe, you may notice references to a Prime Minister who is definitely not the one currently in power. Please feel free to imagine anyone you like in the role. Personally, I'm going back and forth between Helen Mirren and Amal Clooney (either a lookalike, or Amal herself.) I don't think we're going to meet the American president in this story but in case we do, I've been picturing Michelle Obama in the role. But you do you.
I'm so sorry this update has taken so long, and for not responding to comments as I usually do. There's nothing wrong, and I'm not working harder or longer hours than anyone else on this site. I think it's a combination of having bitten off a lot in this story and trying to effectively chew it, and being tired and therefore distractible. I know pretty much exactly what is going to happen, I'm just having trouble writing it down. Thank you to everyone who has hung in there all this time, I appreciate your patience and am grateful for your encouragement!
Warnings: I realize the vampires' plan is even stupider than Loki's supervillain plan in The Avengers, but if you watch Being Human you've probably noticed that strategy is not really the vampires' strong point. They seem to like to get right to the bloodshed and mayhem and assume that's all they need. In this case, perhaps trying to postpone the bloodshed and mayhem has made their tactical thinking even worse than usual.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
From their vantage point high on a building, passing Clint's binoculars back and forth, Loki and his friends eventually stopped counting the vampires creeping around the grounds of the Palace of Westminster.
"I had no idea there were this many vampires in Bristol," Annie remarked nervously, one hand on Scamp's back to forestall the dog's obvious desire to charge.
"I don't think there are," Mitchell replied. "There must be vampires here from London as well."
"From all over the European Union, I'd say," George said, in a sort of high-pitched whisper.
"Awesome," Clint murmured, his tone absentminded, as he studied the situation. "So they just plan to, what, lurk until the MPs start arriving and then nab them? Seriously?"
Annie rolled her eyes. "Hasn't anyone mentioned to you that tactics aren't their strong suit?"
"And yet they want to take over the world," Clint said, his tone disapproving. Loki was unable to determine whether Clint disapproved of the intent, or the slipshod methods being employed toward its end. On the whole he thought it best not to inquire. Clint glanced at Loki and asked, "I don't suppose you have a magic spell to deal with them, do you?"
"I have not," Loki replied, his tone perfectly steady. Had he been connected to the truth-detecting machine, its sensors would have registered no falsehood. Clint probably sensed as much himself, which of course meant Loki was lying. Well, not really lying. If there was no other alternative he supposed fire would cleanse Parliament of its vampire infestation, but destroying the Palace of Westminster and killing all its human inhabitants-- to say nothing of the collateral damage to London in general-- was a course he planned to avoid if there was any possible alternative.
A faint buzz sounded from Mitchell's pocket. The vampire reached for his mobile and looked at it as he explained,
"Keep in mind that vampires are pure predators. Most of them don't have any other interests. So their thinking tends to revolve around prey, not strategy. Doesn't mean they're not dangerous."
If nothing else, holding such a large number of by-elections at one time would be a fearful nuisance, was Loki's first thought. He had the common sense to keep it to himself.
Clint, apparently conceding the point, jerked his chin at the mobile in Mitchell's hand. "Ivan?"
"Yes," Mitchell agreed, tapping out a hasty message. "He and Daisy and the witches just arrived. They're at Trafalgar Square." Of course they were.
"Tell him we'll meet them there," Clint instructed, and gestured the others to follow him. If he was weary of journeying back and forth across the same section of London, he did not say so.
Trafalgar Square was, at this time of night-- morning?-- as deserted as it was ever likely to be, and they were cautious as they skirted the plaza toward the plinth on the northwest corner, where the others were waiting. Ivan stepped out of the shadows and strolled forward as they approached, followed by Daisy and the two witches.
"Good to see you," Mitchell greeted the four. Daisy snarled at him. Scamp snarled right back, subsiding with reluctance when Annie hushed her, but fortunately remaining in her normal small form.
"We appreciate your assistance," Loki spoke up formally, addressing Catherine and Agnes.
"From the sound of things you need all the help you can get," Catherine remarked.
"We," Agnes supplied a mild correction. "We need all the help we can get."
"I've just had a message from Geoff," Ivan said abruptly. "Wyndham seems to be bypassing the Old Ones-- "
"Way ahead of you there," George muttered. Ignoring him, Ivan went on,
"-- and he's also targeting the Prime Minister personally."
"Of course he is," Clint said. "He can still be taken out by a wooden arrow, right?" He cast a sharp glance at Mitchell and added, "Vampire politics or not, he's going down."
"I'm not arguing," Mitchell shrugged. "The trouble is-- "
"The trouble," Ivan said, "is that if he's already inside Number Ten, there's no way for you to get a shot at him without coming within range of his powers. And Edgar might be a fool, but he's very powerful. He'll have the whole house more or less fogged with… Loki would say magic. There are staff members in that building-- security guards and the PM's household-- and the PM's husband. Controlling them is quicker and cleaner than killing them. For now." Ivan manifestly did not care what happened to the staff or the PM's husband-- and probably not the Prime Minister herself-- but was passing on the information to allies who did. Loki appreciated this, at least from a tactical perspective. Ivan went on, "He doesn't need to be in the same room with a human to control them, but even if you somehow got past his powers, you won't be able to sneak up on him. I know you're very good at your job. So is Wyndham, and he's been very good at his… job… for about a thousand years. Don't underestimate him."
"He sounds like our problem," Catherine said. Ivan looked doubtful, and Agnes suddenly smiled, an angular predatory smile that Loki had not seen on her face since the very earliest stages of their acquaintance.
"Between the two of us, Catherine and I have been very good at our jobs for about a thousand years as well," she said. "And so has Loki. Three is a powerful number for sorcery."
"Which leaves the rest of them for us," Clint noted, in the tone of one doing mathematical calculations in his head. Loki did so as well, and the sum he reached was outnumbered.
"I suggest you limit your activity to reconnaissance for the moment," Loki cautioned. Clint grimaced but did not protest. Loki turned to Ivan. "Unless you feel equal to subduing perhaps a hundred of your fellows, and persuading them to return peacefully to their homes?"
"I don't," Ivan admitted. "Not a group that large-- I'm not as old or as powerful as Wyndham. I can… persuade… smaller groups, though." He turned to Clint with an air of easy confidence: "You lot stick to surveillance for now. Daisy and I will look around on our own."
"Sure," Clint agreed, apparently without a second thought. Under the circumstances that should have put Loki on his guard, but as it happened he was on his guard already. Inherently untrustworthy himself, Loki certainly did not expect fair play in Ivan. And also, of course, had he been in Ivan's position, he would certainly have cheated to ensure Annie stayed with him, rather than among newly minted and certainly temporary allies.
Ivan was doing exactly what Loki would have done in the same situation, which was probably reason enough to stop him.
And so, as Ivan spoke, Loki was already on the alert for any sign of the oily magic he associated with powerful vampires. He felt it reaching out, enveloping Clint and Mitchell, curling around George and himself as if looking for a handhold.
It took a considerable amount of his own (still somewhat depleted) powers, and rather more to appear as if no effort was being expended at all, but Loki was able to perform the sorcerous equivalent of batting Ivan's hand away.
"Daisy will remain with Agnes, Catherine, and myself," Loki announced, in a tone which brooked no argument. It was not the stern tone he used on small misbehaving children. It was rather the imperious one that, long ago, had served to remind Asgard it had more than one prince. The oily magic loosened its grip and receded. Mitchell looked suddenly alarmed, while Clint blinked, and then jerked his head as if to clear it.
"What the hell was that?" he demanded, in a furious undertone.
"That was what I believe you would term 'a good try'," Loki replied. Ivan, to his credit, accepted his defeat with what appeared to be good grace. He also did not seem aware of any difficulty on Loki's part, which was a relief. Loki modulated his tone slightly as he spoke next-- he did not wish to make an enemy of Ivan, even with a hostage to his continued good behavior: "I trust you understand why we prefer Daisy not accompany you as you 'look around.' She will be quite safe with us while we investigate our… magical options."
"And suppose Daisy doesn't care about being safe?" Daisy demanded-- which was fair enough, really, although it changed nothing.
"I'm afraid you don't get a vote," Catherine said calmly. "And neither does Ivan."
If Ivan felt frustration, he did not let it show, merely inclined his head toward Loki and the witches. He then turned to Daisy and gave her a kiss that made George look away in discomfort. Since that was obviously the intent, Loki did not.
"I'll be back soon," Ivan promised.
"I know," Daisy replied, shooting a glance at Loki and the witches that suggested she would join him as soon as she had dealt with a certain minor inconvenience. Having in the past been threatened, and also pummeled, by far more fearsome opponents-- including both a dragon and his own brother-- Loki was perhaps less impressed than she might have wished.
Annie, with calm practicality, changed the subject:
"When we get there, back to Parliament, I'll go inside and look around, try to get an accurate count of how many vampires there are and where they are in the buildings."
Ivan nodded. "All right. I'll see who I can pick off outside, privately." No one asked him what form this "picking off" might take. Loki suspected it might be the sort of thing Ivan decided upon on an ad hoc basis.
On that note, and after a much less conspicuous embrace between Annie and Loki, the two groups separated.
~oOo~
Walking openly, making no effort at concealment (not for him to slink and sidle, this was his right) Wyndham approached the gleaming black door with its lion's-head knocker and the shining brass knob in its centre. The injunction against entry without invitation did not apply to Old Ones as powerful as Wyndham, as he had shown in Scotland when he entered the home of Tony Stark. (He ground his teeth at the memory of the girl he encountered there-- he would pay her out for that.) Besides, 10 Downing Street was not a private residence, it belonged to the Nation, to the Island.
And, of course, Wyndham had in fact visited as an invited guest, many years ago when the house was new, before its yellow bricks were blackened by the smoke and corruption of London. These days the bricks were painted black, so the humans would not know-- would not have to think-- of the corruption. Would not have to face it.
Humans were infinitely adaptable, but they preferred illusion to reality, and that trait would serve the vampires well when they took power. The humans would adapt to their new masters, to the new ways of their world.
Their adaptation could begin now.
Wyndham reached the gleaming black door and took hold of the knob. The door was locked, and a human would have said it could not be opened from the outside. This was hardly an impediment to Wyndham-- the door in Scotland had been locked, too. He could not pass through solid walls but an ordinary door was well within his powers. The knob turned, the black door opened, and he stepped into the entry hall with its black-and-white marble floor. The tiles were, of course, new since his first visit, and the house itself had been much smaller-- nowadays the houses at 11 and 12 Downing Street had been knocked together with Number 10.
The new configuration might have been confusing under other circumstances, but Wyndham was unconcerned with floor plans. He needed to find, not specific rooms, but specific occupants.
Across the entry hall a pair of guards turned toward him. Wyndham smiled at them, felt their minds wriggle briefly in his grasp and then succumb. Once, centuries ago, he had gloried in the physical resistance of his prey, the feeling of overpowering them before he sank his teeth into their flesh. Now, though of course he still fed upon humans, his greater pleasure was in crushing their minds.
Alas, as his own power increased he experienced less and less satisfaction in overcoming such puny resistance. He had hoped Loki would present a greater challenge, but the sorcerer had proved a disappointment, succumbing with barely a struggle. And the fool Doom believed such a weakling could help them?
It was of little consequence, now. Wyndham gestured, and one of the guards returned to his station. Addressing the other, Wyndham said,
"You will take me to the Prime Minister."
"Sir," the human replied, and led the way toward the staircase.
~oOo~
Retracing their steps from Trafalgar Square naturally meant passing within hailing distance of Downing Street once again. George found himself feeling quite grateful that Clint was the Avengers' representative in their little group. Someone like Steve or Tony might have given in to the temptation to mount a faint-hope attempt to rescue the Prime Minister and her household. George had nothing against the Prime Minister-- he had voted for her party-- but considering they were engaged in a faint-hope enterprise in the first place, he wasn't sorry that Clint was sticking to the plan.
As, he hoped, was Ivan, who left them without comment as they were approaching Westminster Abbey. They had already decided that Annie would enter the Palace of Westminster by the Visitors' Entrance. Loki would certainly have found that amusing, but since Annie had never been inside the Palace before she thought the signage would be better in the more public areas. Annie, of course, could just pass through walls wherever she wanted to, with little fear of tumbling down an unexpected staircase, but if the others went inside they were going to have to use corridors and part of Annie's job was to act as scout for them.
"And what are the chances we'll have to do that?" Mitchell asked, looking uneasy.
Clint shrugged. "Depends on what Loki and the witches come up with. Annie, look for vantage points I can shoot from, all right?"
Annie had just opened her mouth to reply when Scamp suddenly snarled, and a group of dark figures stepped out of the shadows.
"Mitchell," said the vampire named Gareth, in a tone full of false bonhomie, "isn't it nice to see you again."
~oOo~
The tension in the room had been somewhat broken by Annie's startling appearance and disappearance. Before anyone else could speak, Coulson turned to Loki.
"How about we step outside for a minute? I could use a little fresh air."
His tone was calmly uninflected, but most of the Avengers-- from both realities-- looked amusingly like rebuked children. Coulson pushed back his chair and rose. After a slight pause, obviously hoping to avoid the impression he was scurrying in Coulson's wake, Loki followed Coulson outside to the flight deck.
Thor immediately turned to his friends. "If this briefing has, for the moment, ended, I wonder if I might have a little privacy with my… opposite number?"
Othor looked startled, but both Nick Furys nodded. The one who belonged in this reality rose to his feet and gestured toward the door. "Good idea. Try not to break anything, okay? The rest of you, out." Without argument, and in some cases wearing expressions of relief that belied their status as superheroes, the other Avengers quickly obeyed. As the two Nick Furys made to follow, the local one turned back and remarked, "We're over the Atlantic Ocean now, and it's a long swim to Ireland. Seriously, don't lose your tempers."
"Indeed," said Thor, with an unhappy memory of himself announcing his intent to return to Asgard to "have words with" his brother. This time, of course, he really did mean only to talk. If possible.
Left alone with his "opposite number," Othor wore the rebellious expression of a chastised youth-- hardly a promising start. Thor drew in a breath through his nose and let it out slowly. As he did so, Thor tried to imagine how Jane or Annie might approach this conversation.
And then, quite suddenly, he knew what he really wanted to ask, what question needed to be answered:
"Did you miss him at all?"
Whatever Othor had been expecting, this was not it. He blinked, clearly puzzled, and Thor wondered whether the rush of impatience he now felt was the same as his own brother used to experience whenever Thor himself was stupid or slow.
"What?" Othor asked.
"It is a straightforward question," Thor replied. "Did you miss him?"
"We mourned him," Othor growled.
"I am sure you did," Thor agreed. "I am well acquainted with the rituals of Asgard. But that does not answer my question." Othor looked away, and for a moment Thor was encouraged by what he took to be a sign of self-consciousness, perhaps of shame-- at the very least a sign of softening that might enable him to extend a hand to his brother.
The hope was disappointed as Othor set his jaw.
"Of course I missed him. There were many time when his tricks-- "
Thor brought his open hand down on the tabletop, not quite hard enough to crack the surface but certainly with enough force to make a sharp report.
"Not his abilities. Not his support when you needed it, and a swift retreat to your heel when the time came for credit. Him." Aware he was losing any chance to reach the other, Thor forced himself to be silent for a moment, and then started over. "I do not know whether you want to reconcile with your brother, but if you do you must offer him your hand-- without demands or conditions."
"And what of his actions?" Othor demanded. "Before his fall, before the Void, he-- "
"Yes, I know," Thor interrupted. "My own brother-- I do not deny wrongdoing on his part, or that he had amends of his own to make. My brother has done so, inasmuch as it is possible. Yours has not, but I do not believe he can. At least not now, not after everything else that has happened to him since his fall." And before it, Thor reflected, he was owed an apology, for all those lies if nothing else.
He did not say as much, of course: his intent was to convince, not provoke, the other Thor.
"He committed treason," Othor argued. "He brought enemies into the weapons vault. He should have been punished for that."
"He has, at least, suffered for it," Thor pointed out. He did not add, And there was treason enough to go around, but he wondered whether this other Thor ever thought about that, about defying the Allfather on his hotheaded mission to Jotunheim.
"You speak of your brother's amends," Othor said suddenly. "Did he demand your apology first, as a condition of making them?"
"The circumstances were different," Thor replied. "My brother was… during his fall, he was protected. Our father ensured he was sent to a place where healing was possible, and that he was… receptive." Brushing aside the memory of his father's explanation for that receptiveness, Thor laughed briefly. "And, of course, my brother is a shapeshifter. You have met his friends. He could come to little harm through becoming more like them." Sobering, he added, "My brother had time and safety to think and to regret. Yours has not. If reconciliation is important to you, offer it. You must decide, and quickly, which is most important to you-- your brother or your pride."
Othor was silent for a long moment.
Then he got up and walked out of the room, in the direction taken by his team mates.
Disappointed but not entirely surprised by this tacit answer, Thor also rose to his feet and went to a door-- in his case, the one leading onto the flight deck, through which Loki and Coulson had gone. As he glanced around he saw them standing beside the railing the protected crew members from falling. Despite his own brother's reassurances on the matter of falling, Thor felt his breath catch at the sight of Loki-- any Loki-- so close to the edge.
Coulson and Loki glanced up at his approach. Loki's face tensed, then relaxed in apparent recognition. That, Thor thought, is not a good sign.
He walked over to the railing-- Loki took a step away from it, which was not Thor's intent but, truly, he was not sorry to see him move away from the edge.
"You all right?" Coulson asked, in his neutral voice.
"I have been speaking with-- with the other Thor." Loki went rigid, and it occurred to Thor that before advising Othor on reconciliation with his brother, he perhaps should have asked Loki whether he had any desire for such a thing. "It was not my place to do so, but…"
"But you and your brother are both sentimental." The words were sneering but Loki's tone was merely tired. Thor shrugged. Loki shook his head. "It is not the same. To him, a brother is… a soldier who need not be rallied, an ally whose concerns are never considered… a dog responsible for his own care."
"And to you?" Thor asked quietly. Loki regarded him for a moment, and then smiled briefly.
"Fortunately, that is immaterial, since I have not got a brother."
Unable to think of a response, Thor nodded to Loki, then Coulson, and went back inside the helicarrier.
~oOo~
Daisy was understandably unhappy about being left behind with Agnes, Catherine, and Loki. She was unhappier still when Agnes, without comment, traced a white circle on the pavement around her and she discovered she could not leave it.
"Salt," Catherine explained, aside, to Loki. "Useful substance."
"Apologies," Agnes addressed the hissing vampire, in the least apologetic tone imaginable, "but we need to concentrate, and I'm afraid you can't be trusted." Daisy's lip curled, but vampires were pragmatists and she did not attempt to argue.
The three sorcerers moved a short distance away from Daisy, Agnes set another circle, murmuring softly as she did so, and they all three stepped inside.
"We haven't actually discussed what working we plan to do," Catherine remarked in an undertone. "Loki, have you got any ideas?"
"One," he admitted. "I have had… a certain amount of success in contacting the magic of this realm and asking its assistance." This was perhaps not strictly true, since the magic had in fact sought him out to do its bidding, but… close enough, as his housemates might say. "If we are all still and receptive, something may happen."
And this was where he found himself grateful to be teamed with centuries-old witches, who had long since learned the value of patience. Catherine and Agnes joined hands and then each reached out for one of his. The last time they had done this, Loki had been the interested observer. This time, he could feel the consciousness of the other two, hovering watchfully nearby.
He certainly hoped not to let them down.
The worry was fleeting: he breathed deeply for a moment and closed his eyes-- and almost at once felt the sensation of magic rising as though to meet him, coursing up through his body. It filled his chest with lightness and warmth, spread outward to his extremities and made his scalp tingle. He could feel the power gather in his hands, in his palms and fingertips, then flow into the hands that held his, but there was no sensation of loss, only increase as of a reservoir filling as the main vessel overflowed. He was aware of Agnes and Catherine on either side of him, their auras brightening as the magic connecting them increased.
As yet it was impossible to tell what would happen next, what form the magic would take, but when Daisy cried out in alarm, Loki opened his eyes to see find them surrounded by light, the enchanted circle glowing brightly.
And above them, at the foot of Nelson's Column, one of the great bronze lions stretched and flexed its paws.
Incidentally, since Housemates takes place in an entirely alternate universe, you may notice references to a Prime Minister who is definitely not the one currently in power. Please feel free to imagine anyone you like in the role. Personally, I'm going back and forth between Helen Mirren and Amal Clooney (either a lookalike, or Amal herself.) I don't think we're going to meet the American president in this story but in case we do, I've been picturing Michelle Obama in the role. But you do you.
I'm so sorry this update has taken so long, and for not responding to comments as I usually do. There's nothing wrong, and I'm not working harder or longer hours than anyone else on this site. I think it's a combination of having bitten off a lot in this story and trying to effectively chew it, and being tired and therefore distractible. I know pretty much exactly what is going to happen, I'm just having trouble writing it down. Thank you to everyone who has hung in there all this time, I appreciate your patience and am grateful for your encouragement!
Warnings: I realize the vampires' plan is even stupider than Loki's supervillain plan in The Avengers, but if you watch Being Human you've probably noticed that strategy is not really the vampires' strong point. They seem to like to get right to the bloodshed and mayhem and assume that's all they need. In this case, perhaps trying to postpone the bloodshed and mayhem has made their tactical thinking even worse than usual.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
From their vantage point high on a building, passing Clint's binoculars back and forth, Loki and his friends eventually stopped counting the vampires creeping around the grounds of the Palace of Westminster.
"I had no idea there were this many vampires in Bristol," Annie remarked nervously, one hand on Scamp's back to forestall the dog's obvious desire to charge.
"I don't think there are," Mitchell replied. "There must be vampires here from London as well."
"From all over the European Union, I'd say," George said, in a sort of high-pitched whisper.
"Awesome," Clint murmured, his tone absentminded, as he studied the situation. "So they just plan to, what, lurk until the MPs start arriving and then nab them? Seriously?"
Annie rolled her eyes. "Hasn't anyone mentioned to you that tactics aren't their strong suit?"
"And yet they want to take over the world," Clint said, his tone disapproving. Loki was unable to determine whether Clint disapproved of the intent, or the slipshod methods being employed toward its end. On the whole he thought it best not to inquire. Clint glanced at Loki and asked, "I don't suppose you have a magic spell to deal with them, do you?"
"I have not," Loki replied, his tone perfectly steady. Had he been connected to the truth-detecting machine, its sensors would have registered no falsehood. Clint probably sensed as much himself, which of course meant Loki was lying. Well, not really lying. If there was no other alternative he supposed fire would cleanse Parliament of its vampire infestation, but destroying the Palace of Westminster and killing all its human inhabitants-- to say nothing of the collateral damage to London in general-- was a course he planned to avoid if there was any possible alternative.
A faint buzz sounded from Mitchell's pocket. The vampire reached for his mobile and looked at it as he explained,
"Keep in mind that vampires are pure predators. Most of them don't have any other interests. So their thinking tends to revolve around prey, not strategy. Doesn't mean they're not dangerous."
If nothing else, holding such a large number of by-elections at one time would be a fearful nuisance, was Loki's first thought. He had the common sense to keep it to himself.
Clint, apparently conceding the point, jerked his chin at the mobile in Mitchell's hand. "Ivan?"
"Yes," Mitchell agreed, tapping out a hasty message. "He and Daisy and the witches just arrived. They're at Trafalgar Square." Of course they were.
"Tell him we'll meet them there," Clint instructed, and gestured the others to follow him. If he was weary of journeying back and forth across the same section of London, he did not say so.
Trafalgar Square was, at this time of night-- morning?-- as deserted as it was ever likely to be, and they were cautious as they skirted the plaza toward the plinth on the northwest corner, where the others were waiting. Ivan stepped out of the shadows and strolled forward as they approached, followed by Daisy and the two witches.
"Good to see you," Mitchell greeted the four. Daisy snarled at him. Scamp snarled right back, subsiding with reluctance when Annie hushed her, but fortunately remaining in her normal small form.
"We appreciate your assistance," Loki spoke up formally, addressing Catherine and Agnes.
"From the sound of things you need all the help you can get," Catherine remarked.
"We," Agnes supplied a mild correction. "We need all the help we can get."
"I've just had a message from Geoff," Ivan said abruptly. "Wyndham seems to be bypassing the Old Ones-- "
"Way ahead of you there," George muttered. Ignoring him, Ivan went on,
"-- and he's also targeting the Prime Minister personally."
"Of course he is," Clint said. "He can still be taken out by a wooden arrow, right?" He cast a sharp glance at Mitchell and added, "Vampire politics or not, he's going down."
"I'm not arguing," Mitchell shrugged. "The trouble is-- "
"The trouble," Ivan said, "is that if he's already inside Number Ten, there's no way for you to get a shot at him without coming within range of his powers. And Edgar might be a fool, but he's very powerful. He'll have the whole house more or less fogged with… Loki would say magic. There are staff members in that building-- security guards and the PM's household-- and the PM's husband. Controlling them is quicker and cleaner than killing them. For now." Ivan manifestly did not care what happened to the staff or the PM's husband-- and probably not the Prime Minister herself-- but was passing on the information to allies who did. Loki appreciated this, at least from a tactical perspective. Ivan went on, "He doesn't need to be in the same room with a human to control them, but even if you somehow got past his powers, you won't be able to sneak up on him. I know you're very good at your job. So is Wyndham, and he's been very good at his… job… for about a thousand years. Don't underestimate him."
"He sounds like our problem," Catherine said. Ivan looked doubtful, and Agnes suddenly smiled, an angular predatory smile that Loki had not seen on her face since the very earliest stages of their acquaintance.
"Between the two of us, Catherine and I have been very good at our jobs for about a thousand years as well," she said. "And so has Loki. Three is a powerful number for sorcery."
"Which leaves the rest of them for us," Clint noted, in the tone of one doing mathematical calculations in his head. Loki did so as well, and the sum he reached was outnumbered.
"I suggest you limit your activity to reconnaissance for the moment," Loki cautioned. Clint grimaced but did not protest. Loki turned to Ivan. "Unless you feel equal to subduing perhaps a hundred of your fellows, and persuading them to return peacefully to their homes?"
"I don't," Ivan admitted. "Not a group that large-- I'm not as old or as powerful as Wyndham. I can… persuade… smaller groups, though." He turned to Clint with an air of easy confidence: "You lot stick to surveillance for now. Daisy and I will look around on our own."
"Sure," Clint agreed, apparently without a second thought. Under the circumstances that should have put Loki on his guard, but as it happened he was on his guard already. Inherently untrustworthy himself, Loki certainly did not expect fair play in Ivan. And also, of course, had he been in Ivan's position, he would certainly have cheated to ensure Annie stayed with him, rather than among newly minted and certainly temporary allies.
Ivan was doing exactly what Loki would have done in the same situation, which was probably reason enough to stop him.
And so, as Ivan spoke, Loki was already on the alert for any sign of the oily magic he associated with powerful vampires. He felt it reaching out, enveloping Clint and Mitchell, curling around George and himself as if looking for a handhold.
It took a considerable amount of his own (still somewhat depleted) powers, and rather more to appear as if no effort was being expended at all, but Loki was able to perform the sorcerous equivalent of batting Ivan's hand away.
"Daisy will remain with Agnes, Catherine, and myself," Loki announced, in a tone which brooked no argument. It was not the stern tone he used on small misbehaving children. It was rather the imperious one that, long ago, had served to remind Asgard it had more than one prince. The oily magic loosened its grip and receded. Mitchell looked suddenly alarmed, while Clint blinked, and then jerked his head as if to clear it.
"What the hell was that?" he demanded, in a furious undertone.
"That was what I believe you would term 'a good try'," Loki replied. Ivan, to his credit, accepted his defeat with what appeared to be good grace. He also did not seem aware of any difficulty on Loki's part, which was a relief. Loki modulated his tone slightly as he spoke next-- he did not wish to make an enemy of Ivan, even with a hostage to his continued good behavior: "I trust you understand why we prefer Daisy not accompany you as you 'look around.' She will be quite safe with us while we investigate our… magical options."
"And suppose Daisy doesn't care about being safe?" Daisy demanded-- which was fair enough, really, although it changed nothing.
"I'm afraid you don't get a vote," Catherine said calmly. "And neither does Ivan."
If Ivan felt frustration, he did not let it show, merely inclined his head toward Loki and the witches. He then turned to Daisy and gave her a kiss that made George look away in discomfort. Since that was obviously the intent, Loki did not.
"I'll be back soon," Ivan promised.
"I know," Daisy replied, shooting a glance at Loki and the witches that suggested she would join him as soon as she had dealt with a certain minor inconvenience. Having in the past been threatened, and also pummeled, by far more fearsome opponents-- including both a dragon and his own brother-- Loki was perhaps less impressed than she might have wished.
Annie, with calm practicality, changed the subject:
"When we get there, back to Parliament, I'll go inside and look around, try to get an accurate count of how many vampires there are and where they are in the buildings."
Ivan nodded. "All right. I'll see who I can pick off outside, privately." No one asked him what form this "picking off" might take. Loki suspected it might be the sort of thing Ivan decided upon on an ad hoc basis.
On that note, and after a much less conspicuous embrace between Annie and Loki, the two groups separated.
~oOo~
Walking openly, making no effort at concealment (not for him to slink and sidle, this was his right) Wyndham approached the gleaming black door with its lion's-head knocker and the shining brass knob in its centre. The injunction against entry without invitation did not apply to Old Ones as powerful as Wyndham, as he had shown in Scotland when he entered the home of Tony Stark. (He ground his teeth at the memory of the girl he encountered there-- he would pay her out for that.) Besides, 10 Downing Street was not a private residence, it belonged to the Nation, to the Island.
And, of course, Wyndham had in fact visited as an invited guest, many years ago when the house was new, before its yellow bricks were blackened by the smoke and corruption of London. These days the bricks were painted black, so the humans would not know-- would not have to think-- of the corruption. Would not have to face it.
Humans were infinitely adaptable, but they preferred illusion to reality, and that trait would serve the vampires well when they took power. The humans would adapt to their new masters, to the new ways of their world.
Their adaptation could begin now.
Wyndham reached the gleaming black door and took hold of the knob. The door was locked, and a human would have said it could not be opened from the outside. This was hardly an impediment to Wyndham-- the door in Scotland had been locked, too. He could not pass through solid walls but an ordinary door was well within his powers. The knob turned, the black door opened, and he stepped into the entry hall with its black-and-white marble floor. The tiles were, of course, new since his first visit, and the house itself had been much smaller-- nowadays the houses at 11 and 12 Downing Street had been knocked together with Number 10.
The new configuration might have been confusing under other circumstances, but Wyndham was unconcerned with floor plans. He needed to find, not specific rooms, but specific occupants.
Across the entry hall a pair of guards turned toward him. Wyndham smiled at them, felt their minds wriggle briefly in his grasp and then succumb. Once, centuries ago, he had gloried in the physical resistance of his prey, the feeling of overpowering them before he sank his teeth into their flesh. Now, though of course he still fed upon humans, his greater pleasure was in crushing their minds.
Alas, as his own power increased he experienced less and less satisfaction in overcoming such puny resistance. He had hoped Loki would present a greater challenge, but the sorcerer had proved a disappointment, succumbing with barely a struggle. And the fool Doom believed such a weakling could help them?
It was of little consequence, now. Wyndham gestured, and one of the guards returned to his station. Addressing the other, Wyndham said,
"You will take me to the Prime Minister."
"Sir," the human replied, and led the way toward the staircase.
~oOo~
Retracing their steps from Trafalgar Square naturally meant passing within hailing distance of Downing Street once again. George found himself feeling quite grateful that Clint was the Avengers' representative in their little group. Someone like Steve or Tony might have given in to the temptation to mount a faint-hope attempt to rescue the Prime Minister and her household. George had nothing against the Prime Minister-- he had voted for her party-- but considering they were engaged in a faint-hope enterprise in the first place, he wasn't sorry that Clint was sticking to the plan.
As, he hoped, was Ivan, who left them without comment as they were approaching Westminster Abbey. They had already decided that Annie would enter the Palace of Westminster by the Visitors' Entrance. Loki would certainly have found that amusing, but since Annie had never been inside the Palace before she thought the signage would be better in the more public areas. Annie, of course, could just pass through walls wherever she wanted to, with little fear of tumbling down an unexpected staircase, but if the others went inside they were going to have to use corridors and part of Annie's job was to act as scout for them.
"And what are the chances we'll have to do that?" Mitchell asked, looking uneasy.
Clint shrugged. "Depends on what Loki and the witches come up with. Annie, look for vantage points I can shoot from, all right?"
Annie had just opened her mouth to reply when Scamp suddenly snarled, and a group of dark figures stepped out of the shadows.
"Mitchell," said the vampire named Gareth, in a tone full of false bonhomie, "isn't it nice to see you again."
~oOo~
The tension in the room had been somewhat broken by Annie's startling appearance and disappearance. Before anyone else could speak, Coulson turned to Loki.
"How about we step outside for a minute? I could use a little fresh air."
His tone was calmly uninflected, but most of the Avengers-- from both realities-- looked amusingly like rebuked children. Coulson pushed back his chair and rose. After a slight pause, obviously hoping to avoid the impression he was scurrying in Coulson's wake, Loki followed Coulson outside to the flight deck.
Thor immediately turned to his friends. "If this briefing has, for the moment, ended, I wonder if I might have a little privacy with my… opposite number?"
Othor looked startled, but both Nick Furys nodded. The one who belonged in this reality rose to his feet and gestured toward the door. "Good idea. Try not to break anything, okay? The rest of you, out." Without argument, and in some cases wearing expressions of relief that belied their status as superheroes, the other Avengers quickly obeyed. As the two Nick Furys made to follow, the local one turned back and remarked, "We're over the Atlantic Ocean now, and it's a long swim to Ireland. Seriously, don't lose your tempers."
"Indeed," said Thor, with an unhappy memory of himself announcing his intent to return to Asgard to "have words with" his brother. This time, of course, he really did mean only to talk. If possible.
Left alone with his "opposite number," Othor wore the rebellious expression of a chastised youth-- hardly a promising start. Thor drew in a breath through his nose and let it out slowly. As he did so, Thor tried to imagine how Jane or Annie might approach this conversation.
And then, quite suddenly, he knew what he really wanted to ask, what question needed to be answered:
"Did you miss him at all?"
Whatever Othor had been expecting, this was not it. He blinked, clearly puzzled, and Thor wondered whether the rush of impatience he now felt was the same as his own brother used to experience whenever Thor himself was stupid or slow.
"What?" Othor asked.
"It is a straightforward question," Thor replied. "Did you miss him?"
"We mourned him," Othor growled.
"I am sure you did," Thor agreed. "I am well acquainted with the rituals of Asgard. But that does not answer my question." Othor looked away, and for a moment Thor was encouraged by what he took to be a sign of self-consciousness, perhaps of shame-- at the very least a sign of softening that might enable him to extend a hand to his brother.
The hope was disappointed as Othor set his jaw.
"Of course I missed him. There were many time when his tricks-- "
Thor brought his open hand down on the tabletop, not quite hard enough to crack the surface but certainly with enough force to make a sharp report.
"Not his abilities. Not his support when you needed it, and a swift retreat to your heel when the time came for credit. Him." Aware he was losing any chance to reach the other, Thor forced himself to be silent for a moment, and then started over. "I do not know whether you want to reconcile with your brother, but if you do you must offer him your hand-- without demands or conditions."
"And what of his actions?" Othor demanded. "Before his fall, before the Void, he-- "
"Yes, I know," Thor interrupted. "My own brother-- I do not deny wrongdoing on his part, or that he had amends of his own to make. My brother has done so, inasmuch as it is possible. Yours has not, but I do not believe he can. At least not now, not after everything else that has happened to him since his fall." And before it, Thor reflected, he was owed an apology, for all those lies if nothing else.
He did not say as much, of course: his intent was to convince, not provoke, the other Thor.
"He committed treason," Othor argued. "He brought enemies into the weapons vault. He should have been punished for that."
"He has, at least, suffered for it," Thor pointed out. He did not add, And there was treason enough to go around, but he wondered whether this other Thor ever thought about that, about defying the Allfather on his hotheaded mission to Jotunheim.
"You speak of your brother's amends," Othor said suddenly. "Did he demand your apology first, as a condition of making them?"
"The circumstances were different," Thor replied. "My brother was… during his fall, he was protected. Our father ensured he was sent to a place where healing was possible, and that he was… receptive." Brushing aside the memory of his father's explanation for that receptiveness, Thor laughed briefly. "And, of course, my brother is a shapeshifter. You have met his friends. He could come to little harm through becoming more like them." Sobering, he added, "My brother had time and safety to think and to regret. Yours has not. If reconciliation is important to you, offer it. You must decide, and quickly, which is most important to you-- your brother or your pride."
Othor was silent for a long moment.
Then he got up and walked out of the room, in the direction taken by his team mates.
Disappointed but not entirely surprised by this tacit answer, Thor also rose to his feet and went to a door-- in his case, the one leading onto the flight deck, through which Loki and Coulson had gone. As he glanced around he saw them standing beside the railing the protected crew members from falling. Despite his own brother's reassurances on the matter of falling, Thor felt his breath catch at the sight of Loki-- any Loki-- so close to the edge.
Coulson and Loki glanced up at his approach. Loki's face tensed, then relaxed in apparent recognition. That, Thor thought, is not a good sign.
He walked over to the railing-- Loki took a step away from it, which was not Thor's intent but, truly, he was not sorry to see him move away from the edge.
"You all right?" Coulson asked, in his neutral voice.
"I have been speaking with-- with the other Thor." Loki went rigid, and it occurred to Thor that before advising Othor on reconciliation with his brother, he perhaps should have asked Loki whether he had any desire for such a thing. "It was not my place to do so, but…"
"But you and your brother are both sentimental." The words were sneering but Loki's tone was merely tired. Thor shrugged. Loki shook his head. "It is not the same. To him, a brother is… a soldier who need not be rallied, an ally whose concerns are never considered… a dog responsible for his own care."
"And to you?" Thor asked quietly. Loki regarded him for a moment, and then smiled briefly.
"Fortunately, that is immaterial, since I have not got a brother."
Unable to think of a response, Thor nodded to Loki, then Coulson, and went back inside the helicarrier.
~oOo~
Daisy was understandably unhappy about being left behind with Agnes, Catherine, and Loki. She was unhappier still when Agnes, without comment, traced a white circle on the pavement around her and she discovered she could not leave it.
"Salt," Catherine explained, aside, to Loki. "Useful substance."
"Apologies," Agnes addressed the hissing vampire, in the least apologetic tone imaginable, "but we need to concentrate, and I'm afraid you can't be trusted." Daisy's lip curled, but vampires were pragmatists and she did not attempt to argue.
The three sorcerers moved a short distance away from Daisy, Agnes set another circle, murmuring softly as she did so, and they all three stepped inside.
"We haven't actually discussed what working we plan to do," Catherine remarked in an undertone. "Loki, have you got any ideas?"
"One," he admitted. "I have had… a certain amount of success in contacting the magic of this realm and asking its assistance." This was perhaps not strictly true, since the magic had in fact sought him out to do its bidding, but… close enough, as his housemates might say. "If we are all still and receptive, something may happen."
And this was where he found himself grateful to be teamed with centuries-old witches, who had long since learned the value of patience. Catherine and Agnes joined hands and then each reached out for one of his. The last time they had done this, Loki had been the interested observer. This time, he could feel the consciousness of the other two, hovering watchfully nearby.
He certainly hoped not to let them down.
The worry was fleeting: he breathed deeply for a moment and closed his eyes-- and almost at once felt the sensation of magic rising as though to meet him, coursing up through his body. It filled his chest with lightness and warmth, spread outward to his extremities and made his scalp tingle. He could feel the power gather in his hands, in his palms and fingertips, then flow into the hands that held his, but there was no sensation of loss, only increase as of a reservoir filling as the main vessel overflowed. He was aware of Agnes and Catherine on either side of him, their auras brightening as the magic connecting them increased.
As yet it was impossible to tell what would happen next, what form the magic would take, but when Daisy cried out in alarm, Loki opened his eyes to see find them surrounded by light, the enchanted circle glowing brightly.
And above them, at the foot of Nelson's Column, one of the great bronze lions stretched and flexed its paws.