Eighth Thor/Being Human Crossover: Chapter Fifty-Nine
Notes: This chapter includes a couple of direct quotes from Being Human, another from the sports pages, and one from Gord Downie. There is no point my apologizing again for how long this chapter took, but at least in this one things actually happen!
Also I mentioned in the notes to the last chapter that I figured it was about four in the morning. I just learned that "the witching hour" was originally considered to be between 3 and 4 AM. So that's what time it is.
Warnings: None I can think of.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
From the time he arrived in Britain (landed, they called it, when one was an immigrant one landed in Britain, and by now Loki found the irony pleasing)--
From the time he landed in Britain, Loki had made an effort to "fit in." Probably this began as a defensive mechanism-- he had never really "fit in" to Asgard, and look how that turned out-- an effort to ingratiate himself with his new companions so they would not change their minds about letting him stay. Regardless, the longer he stayed, and the deeper ran his affection for this peculiar realm and its inhabitants, the more sincere were the efforts.
Eventually, after he felt reasonably comfortable with most aspects of everyday life, he even began to take a certain interest in sport. Midgardians' obsession with the subject initially puzzled him-- there was no equivalent passion in Asgard, unless one counted warfare which was hardly the same thing-- but he did his best. The fact there were options that involved much in the way of skill and trickery, and comparatively little brute strength, helped. Football was of course ubiquitous, and Mitchell, who liked it, was willing to explain the rules. Loki's efforts to understand cricket were less successful, since no one else in the house seemed to have any idea what the rules of the game were, either. Show-jumping was by contrast self-explanatory, and Loki had (in an entirely unmythological way) always been fond of horses.
His interest in motorsport began in the earliest days of his friendship with Tony Stark, who of course owned a (middling-successful) Formula One team of his own. However, as soon as he began to follow the sport in the press at home, Loki became aware of the long tradition of British motor racing, with heroes and villains (relatively speaking) of its own. Mitchell, who of course had followed the sport since its beginnings, had many stories to tell of its earliest days. George, not normally interested in sport, liked the technical aspects. Annie seldom watched the actual races, but had an affection for certain of the drivers, generally for reasons having nothing whatsoever to do with racing. ("Look how cute his dogs are!")
Loki, also for reasons having little to do with racing, now cheered for McLaren and also Williams, and took a friendly interest in all British drivers (including the one with the dogs) no matter what team employed them.
It was, fortunately, not required that he cheer only for British drivers, and so he also followed the fortunes of many others: the cryptic Finn, the cheerful Australian, the mischievous German. It was the latter who, once asked what he liked about the British, replied, "Their sense of humour. It's not going to be the weather or the food, is it?"
Loki had reached the point at which he could admit, at least privately to himself, that he was not always completely enamoured of British weather-- cold, raw, and rainy was not really his preference. On the other hand he quite liked British food, particularly curry.
However, as he watched the bronze lions stand, stretch, and, one by one, leap down from their places at the foot of the column, he found himself fully in agreement with the German driver: the best thing about Britain was indeed its sense of humour.
Daisy, her usual air of careless arrogance notably shaken, stared wide-eyed as the huge creatures passed them, moving with the rolling-shouldered swagger of all big cats.
"What are you doing?" she asked hoarsely.
"I?" Loki replied, with synthetic innocence and considerable satisfaction. He waved his arms in an all-encompassing gesture. "I am doing nothing. It is your realm."
Agnes Scott seemed about to speak, but whatever she intended to say was left unsaid as a bronze chariot rattled by, carrying three martial-looking bronze women and heading toward Parliament. At Loki's questioning look, Agnes said briefly,
"Boadicea, with her daughters. She was a British queen who led her people against the Roman invaders."
"Ah," said Loki. "I begin to sense a theme."
~oOo~
Some distance away, on the Strand, stood the church of St Clement Danes. At this hour even its famous bells were silent, the grounds dark, though the church itself was gently illuminated by outdoor lights gleaming on its pale stone, and on the blue cross that heralded it as RAF St Clement Danes, central church of the Royal Air Force.
Also illuminated was the statue of a thin, solemn-faced man in uniform, hands at his lapels. Despite his garb, he looked thoughtful and resolute rather than fierce.
The impression of resolution persisted as he blinked, lowered his hands, and turned toward Parliament.
Then, moving rather stiffly, Air Chief Marshal Sir Hugh Caswall Tremenheere Dowding climbed down from his plinth and set off toward the Palace of Westminster.
~oOo~
The scene was repeated all across the city, as effigies stepped down from their pedestals and began the walk, long or short, toward Parliament. Queens and suffragettes, soldiers and kings on horseback, a former Lord Mayor accompanied by his cat. Two tiny mice ceased squabbling over a bit of cheese in Philpott Street, while St George raised his lance and allowed the dragon to accompany him. In Parliament Square itself, Winston Churchill leaned on his walking stick and, head thrust aggressively forward, led a group of statesmen-- some of whom would never, in life, have followed him anywhere-- toward the Palace of Westminster.
Far above their heads, Big Ben spoke, sounding first his carillon and then three great chimes.
~oOo~
"I wouldn't advise you to try any ghostie shit," Gareth addressed Annie. "Because if you do, your human pal is lunch." Annie, face grim, gestured to Scamp to be quiet. The little dog's growls subsided.
"Gareth," Mitchell said with flat calm, glancing around at the vampires who surrounded them. Gareth's confident sneer seemed genuine, but judging by their expressions a few of his followers remembered Mitchell's days as Herrick's attack dog, and still feared him.
Good.
He also took heart at the sight of Geoff hanging around the fringes of the group. So far as he knew the younger vampire was still on their side, or at any rate Ivan's, and Mitchell didn't think Geoff would betray them unless (until?) Ivan did. Whether he could think of anything useful to do was an open question, of course, but Mitchell couldn't deny it was comforting to see one relatively friendly face in the crowd.
One friendly face.
"Not such a big man now, are you?" Cara spoke up, in the sort of playground taunt that could get a young vampire killed, unless they were under the specific protection of a much more powerful member of the community. Back in the not-terribly-distant past, Mitchell might have taken fatal exception to her tone. Now he simply ignored her. Sooner or later she was going to overstep herself, but that didn't help at the moment.
Rather unexpectedly, Geoff was the next to speak up:
"Are we taking them to Seth?" he asked.
"We should kill them right now," Cara objected. Gareth didn't look at either of them, just snapped,
"Seth will want to… have a word with you." Gareth looked Clint up and down, a little sneer playing at the corners of his mouth. "I think we'll leave you to speak for yourself. Might be funny."
Clint hiked an eyebrow at Gareth and offered a little sneer in return. He looked entirely unimpressed, which-- after the demonstration on the helicarrier of vampire power and its effect on him-- had to be an act. Still, the expression was convincing enough that for a second Mitchell was afraid Gareth might decide to crush the human, just to wipe the smirk off his face. If Clint was hoping to provoke Gareth into doing something dumb, though, he was going to have to try harder. Gareth just snatched the quiver of arrows off Clint's shoulder and tossed them into the bushes, then gestured to the others to take the prisoners away.
He did, however, take a moment to murmur in Mitchell's ear,
"Seth is really looking forward to seeing you again."
Mitchell shrugged. "I wish I could say the same."
The group allowed themselves to be roughly herded into the Palace of Westminster and then to the Commons, where vampires lounged on the green leather benches that normally held the bums of MPs. At the front of the chamber Seth occupied the tall Speaker's chair. His arrogant slouch was probably intended to convey his contempt for human government, but in Mitchell's opinion he just looked like someone occupying a chair that was far too large for him, and trying not to slide off.
It did cross Mitchell's mind to wonder what Loki would make of the vampires' disrespectful little pantomime. It was true that Loki seemed to think parliamentary government was the best joke ever invented, but it was also true that at the same time he appeared to take it very seriously, which wasn't really a contradiction if you knew Loki. Mitchell reckoned it was all part of Loki's whole pattern of embracing everything British (except possibly the weather) and, knowing Loki, if he saw Seth and his minions right now he'd set about teaching them some manners.
Mitchell sincerely hoped Loki got the chance to do so, and soon. In the meantime he just hoped he and his friends could avoid getting killed before Loki and the witches came to the rescue.
Seth rose to his feet as the group came into the chamber, the better to loom over them, and smiled his unpleasant, empty-headed smile as they came to a stop in front of the clerks' table.
"Well, well. What have we here?" Seth was an idiot, but even an idiot could sound intimidating with the odds stacked so much in his favour. "I must say, I don't think much of the company you're keeping these days, Mitchell. A human, your little dog-- " this with a leer at George-- "and… what is that?" he said, nose wrinkling, as he looked Annie up and down.
"I'm a ghost, actually," Annie replied stiffly. Seth had to have known that, as Herrick's chief stooge he would certainly have known all about her, but he chose to play to the gallery. With a show of surprise he said,
"Get out. Can you like, move things about and, y'know, walk from one room to another?"
Annie received this sally-- and the sycophantic laughter of the other vampires-- in silence and with an expression of scorn. George, however, spoke up:
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure everyone can do that."
Someone-- Cara-- laughed, an ugly sound, and Seth's expression hardened.
"Shut it, Digby," he snapped, looking flustered. He quickly focused on Mitchell again. "Lucky you. You're about to have a ringside seat for the end of the world."
"Is this the bit where you explain your plans to us?" Mitchell asked, trying for the expression of infuriating innocence he thought Loki would be wearing at this moment. Needling Seth probably wasn't the smartest thing to do at the moment but their options were limited and besides, Mitchell was damned if he'd give the fool the satisfaction of beating them. "You know, have a bit of a gloat?"
"I always like that part," Clint agreed.
"Should we wait for Mr. Wyndham?" Geoff asked, his tone carefully deferential. "Let him decide what to do with them and when?"
"I say we kill them now," Cara spoke up-- one track mind, that one-- and Seth turned on her.
"Shut up, you silly cow. One of you, go find Wyndham."
Without waiting for orders, Geoff nodded obsequiously and sidled out of the group. Seth watched him go, then turned back to Mitchell. "Still think you're the big man, don't you? It's sickening, really-- from Herrick's attack dog to the humans' lap dog. I would have thought even you wouldn't fall that far."
Mitchell sighed. "Really, Seth, you're not still banging on about Herrick? It might be time to think about getting some help-- it's not too late to find love again."
Which really was a stupid thing to say and probably would have been the remark that tipped Seth over the edge into murderous rage--
-- Except that, before the other vampire could react, there was a commotion outside the chamber. Then the doors crashed open.
~oOo~
"How'd it go?" Tony, who along with Steve had been lurking around in the corridor, asked as Thor emerged from the conference room. "I mean, obviously we're still flying so it can't have gone that badly, but Othor came by a minute ago with a face like, well, you know, so-- "
Steve poked him sharply in the ribs, which in the absence of the suit hurt a lot, and Tony fell silent, and also into step with Thor as the big guy strode down the corridor. He also had a face like, well, you know.
"Thor?" Steve prompted quietly. "It would be great if we all knew what's going on."
Thor stopped, took a deep breath, and smiled tightly. "I apologize. My efforts to act as a peacemaker were a spectacular failure, the other Thor seems to want nothing further to do with his brother while the other Loki denies he even has a brother."
"You think they'll be able to work together?" Steve asked.
"Jesus, Steve-- " Tony began, because damn that was cold, but Thor seemed grateful for the change of focus.
"I think it would be best if we kept them separate for now," he admitted. "But when the time comes for action, I expect there will be enough for both to do to keep occupied."
"No doubt," Steve agreed. "In the meantime, Natasha's going to be our point person with the other Avengers-- "
"Two Black Widows in the same room," Tony chipped in, shuddering elaborately. "Picture that." Thor smiled again, though it was clear his heart was still not in it. "Come on, big guy. Let's go see if we can scare up a cup of coffee someplace."
"That is a capital idea," Thor agreed, relaxing slightly.
The moment didn't last long, because when they arrived at the galley they found it already occupied by not only Coulson and new-Loki, but also Stark and Rogers.
It didn't look like a pleasant tete-a-tete. In fact, it might have been Tony's imagination, but he though Coulson actually looked relieved at the interruption. The agent nodded to the newcomers and poured out more cups of coffee.
"I assume this is what you're looking for?" he said, handing a cup to Tony. From the corner of his eye Tony could see Loki relax slightly.
"Yeah, since I don't think it would be a good idea to get drunk before we face Doombots, I figure I'll just work on getting as wired as possible," he said cheerfully. "Loki, have you found any tea?" Loki tensed up again and Tony hastily waved off his own comment. "Sorry, man, I forgot you've only been here a couple of days. Seems like a whole lot longer. Even living with Annie you probably haven't gotten trained on tea-making just yet."
"No," Loki replied. And then, with an apparent effort, he added, "Annie seems to enjoy making the tea herself."
"I wonder how she is at coffee?" Tony wondered.
"They do not keep it," Thor spoke up. With a theatrical shudder of his own, he explained, "Or, rather, they use a foul powder they refer to as 'instant.' The less said of it, the better."
"Ew," Tony agreed, with a shudder of his own, and took a hit from the mug in his hand. Then he turned to Stark and Rogers. "Had a burning need for caffeine as well, did you?"
"Yes," Rogers said flatly.
"And information," Stark added, because no matter what reality he came from, Tony Stark could not fucking let well enough alone.
"Information?" Tony prompted.
"Yeah. Just in general. You-- " he was addressing Thor-- "said something about your brother coming from a different-- "
"A different race, yes," Thor agreed, cutting a glance at new-Loki as he spoke. No explosion followed, not that Stark seemed to be worrying about that.
"So, like, how much is that influencing how Thor, I mean our Thor, is acting toward his brother right now?" Stark said. "Because, you know, we have enough problems already without adding racism to the whole mess."
"Especially with Lt-Col Rhodes and Master Sergeant Wilson joining us," Rogers added, looking a little constipated-- seriously, that other reality must be majorly deficient in fibre-- but also genuinely concerned. Tony definitely liked both of them better right now, but he did wish Thor had said "species" instead of "race."
Loki, looking genuinely confused, reinforced Tony's thought as he said, "What have they to do with this matter?"
Stark snorted. "Okay, man, I get that you're not from around here, but believe me, we know all about racism on this planet, and we don't need you Asgard guys getting all weird about Rhodey and Wilson."
Thor, with a cautious glance at Loki, made an awkward attempt to defuse the situation:
"It is perhaps a little more complicated than you think."
Which was pretty much the worst thing he could have said, and Stark naturally jumped all over him:
"Oh yes, of course it's 'complicated.' It's always 'complicated.' There's always a good reason for shit like that, except there isn't. I know you Asgard guys think everything about you is special, but seriously, there's nothing you need to tell us about-- awk!"
Okay, well, maybe the last syllable of that speech wasn't quite "awk!" but it was close enough. Rogers said nothing, but he looked for a second like his constipation issue might have spontaneously resolved itself.
Which was understandable, because all of a sudden, sitting in Loki's place was a huge Jotun, and he didn't look happy.
It had to be a glamour instead of a shapeshift, since the "Jotun" wasn't clad in the tattered remains of Loki's clothing, but it was pretty damned convincing. And it certainly shut Stark up.
Jotun-Loki smiled, or at least bared his teeth. "Do you still believe we have nothing to tell you? What, quite silent now? No wisdom to offer?" Stark and Rogers remained silent, and Loki turned on Tony, Steve and Coulson. "And you? Would you be so attached to your tame Loki if he looked like this?"
Coulson shrugged. "I admit you're a little taller than our Loki in his Jotun form, and the business of not being able to touch any of us is pretty inconvenient, but he's working on that."
Jotun-Loki blinked at Steve in apparent astonishment, and Tony spoke up before he found his tongue:
"Also, he's a great guy to have on your side in a snowball fight, isn't he, Steve?"
"Sure is," Steve agreed amiably. "We also appreciated the help we got from Jotunheim a while back, when we were having some trouble with shapeshifting aliens from space." He smiled thinly at Stark and Rogers. "Remind us to tell you about that sometime." Returning his attention to Loki, Steve said kindly, "It really is different for your people and the Jotnar, I know that. Here on Earth, our prejudices are mostly a matter of skin colour, religion, culture-- that kind of thing. But underneath it all we're all humans. So no, we don't really understand the, the kind of racism that involves a whole different species that's physically very different, but very similar in terms of emotions and intelligence."
Jotun-Loki made a scoffing noise, and Thor spoke up:
"It is true, Loki. Of late, since my brother's disastrous actions, there have been efforts made at reconciliation between our realms. The stories we were told as children were only that, stories, and I am sure Jotun children were also told of the wicked Aesir who would eat them up-- "
There was a sparkle of green, and Loki was back to his normal self. Tony thought he was maybe too upset to hang onto the glamour right now-- his expression was the stiff one their Loki wore when he was trying to pretend everything was fine. His tone of voice was still pure sarcasm:
"And what of the Allfather? The great and wise king of Asgard? Is he after all capable of error?"
"He is," Thor replied evenly. "And has admitted as much."
"And you?" Loki demanded. "Are you proud to call a monster brother?"
Thor favoured Loki with a look of disappointment that probably would have reduced his own brother to a puddle-- even New-Loki looked like he knew he'd gone too far, although obviously he didn't admit as much.
"My brother is no monster, no matter his form," Thor said, his tone gentle but definite. Loki actually looked a little ashamed of himself. "And the Jotnar are not monsters at all." He studied Loki with thoughtful eyes, then added, "As for myself, I am no longer the vicious youth who thought so little of my neighbours that I would murder them for a jest, so I suppose I am a monster no longer, as well."
Loki studied Thor for a long silent moment, his jaw tense and his eyes burning. For a second there Tony thought it was touch and go whether he'd blow something up, but instead he just got up and walked out. Coulson nodded to the others and followed him.
"I don't know if we're going to be able to beat Doom, but we've got him cold in the making-a-dramatic-exit category," Tony commented.
"Damn," Stark murmured, shaking his head. "That's… that's messed up. Thor, you know how messed up that is, right? Of course you do. I mean… monsters. I know you said they're not really monsters, but damn, that looked like a monster-- "
"Stark," Tony said tiredly, "will you shut up, for God's sake? Thor, do you suppose this has made things worse?"
"I do not know," Thor said heavily. "Probably."
"I don't think so," Steve spoke up. Everyone looked at him. "Didn't you notice? What made him put on that Jotun form?"
"Yeah?" Tony prompted.
"It was after Stark got after Thor-- he didn't like that at all, and I think he did it to back up Thor's point. Now, admittedly, he did it to prove the Jotnar are monsters, which isn't good, but he was defending Thor. That's a good sign, isn't it?"
Thor blinked. "That is-- yes. Yes, that is… heartening."
Tony, with thoughts in his head of what might happen if both Lokis started fighting over the same Thor, was maybe a little less "heartened," but for once in his life he had the sense to keep quiet. They could drive off that bridge when they came to it.
~oOo~
There probably should have been guards posted in an organized fashion around the Palace-- in fact, vampires probably should have replaced the human guards who were now locked in a small inner chamber, sitting on the floor and staring straight ahead. These guards' eventual fate was obvious, and Geoff's mouth watered guiltily as the thought crossed his mind, but for the moment the vampires were sticking surprisingly closely to their plan. That, Geoff reckoned, was down not so much to Seth and his leadership as the prospect of having to explain themselves to Wyndham and the other Old Ones.
And speaking of other Old Ones, Geoff had been sent to find Wyndham, but obviously he wasn't going to do that. As a matter of fact he was hoping to find Loki, who had to be around here somewhere, and tell him what was going on. He'd also just pulled out his mobile to send Ivan a text when someone stepped out from behind a hedge and would have frightened the life out of him if he hadn't already been dead.
And then he recognized Campbell, one of his fellow spies. "Jesus!" Geoff hissed. "What are you doing out here?"
"Protecting the perimeter," Campbell replied in a hoarse whisper. Geoff stared at him. "That's what Seth sent me to do. If Mitchell and his lot come by I was hoping to help them get into the Palace."
"Too late, they're already in there," Geoff replied, and quickly explained the situation as he typed a text to Ivan. "I don't know what Loki has in mind, but-- "
Whatever Geoff had been planning to say next completely fled from his mind as a horse-drawn chariot came rattling up the silent street. Campbell grabbed him and dragged him out of the way, but the horses stopped, prancing and rearing before them. One of the three women in the chariot, the one standing in the centre brandishing a spear, silently turned toward them. Geoff had a moment to wonder whether her spear could kill a vampire-- it wasn't wooden, but it was obviously magical-- when the woman turned away in dismissal and the chariot moved on.
"What the fuck-- ?" Campbell breathed.
"Loki," Geoff said, definitely. "He can't be far."
~oOo~
"Oh for the love of-- " George blurted as the doors to the Commons broke open under what turned out to be, appropriately, the heavy fist of Winston Churchill.
Unlike the vampires, George and his friends wasted no time uselessly wondering what was happening-- Loki. Loki was happening. (Loki himself would certainly insist it was all London and he was merely the amplifier, but George was of the opinion that if London had chosen a different instrument its magic might have made some less… conspicuous choices.)
The vampires, meanwhile, wasted several crucial second simply gaping as the doorway filled with walking statues. Then several of them made the inexplicable and frankly very stupid decision to advance on the bronze Churchill. George reckoned the vampires had simply been unable to believe what impossible thing they were seeing, which really was ridiculous when you considered the vampires were, themselves, vampires--
Churchill was carrying a walking stick-- not a wooden one, obviously, so there was no telling how effective it might be as a stake. It turned out not to matter very much because, instead of using it to impale the first vampire to accost him, the statue simply snapped the cane upwards and sideways and cracked the vampire across the temple. There was a sickening smack and the vampire staggered and went down.
Seth, on a high note, demanded "What the fuck is this?"
Which, in George's opinion, was a mistake since it attracted the attention of Winston Churchill. The statue did not, of course, speak or change his expression, but it wasn't hard to imagine that even the animated effigy of Churchill would take offense at this invasion of the Commons. Churchill lumbered forward as, behind him, a gang of loyal or optimistic or simply very stupid vampires closed in on the rest of the statues. One of them was immediately chucked halfway across the room by Abraham Lincoln, while another was incongruously punched in the face by Mahatma Ghandi.
In the free-for-all that resulted Mitchell grabbed Clint and startled to hustle him toward the nearest door, which happened to be the one behind the Speaker's chair. George had no idea where it led, but putting a sturdy door between this scrum and the human seemed like a really good idea. Seth shouted something and Gareth and one of the minions went after them.
Mitchell glanced back, then shoved Clint toward the door and turned to face the other vampires, his lips curling back in a snarl. Gareth responded with a snarl of his own as he strode forward, and Mitchell suddenly looked rather small.
George glanced around for a weapon. Understandably, such things were in short supply in the Commons, but the Clerk's table stood nearby. George ran toward it and picked up one of the heavy wooden chairs provided for the Clerk and his assistants. As Gareth swaggered toward Mitchell and Clint-- who of course hadn't run when he had the chance-- George swung the chair up over his head and brought it down as hard as he could on Gareth's.
The chair broke, the vampire went down like a wet sack, and George, his blood thoroughly up, turned to the rest of the room and bellowed, "Who wants some of my chair?"
Which frankly sounded a lot more butch in his head than out loud.
Annie was looking around for something to throw. Up until very recently not even her biggest fan (that is, Loki) would have called on her for support in a fight, but since her discovery of her poltergeist powers things had changed considerably. She gestured at the Clerk's table and a set of large, heavy volumes, probably Hansard, rose into the air and then dive-bombed the vampire melee. Seth, meanwhile, was twisting in the grip of Winston Churchill, Chief Air Marshall Dowding had two vampires by the scruffs of their necks and was banging their heads together, Nelson Mandela and Emma Pankhurst had chucked another lot of vampires into a wall, and in the middle of the fracas two vampires suddenly began to dance around, shrieking, almost as if mice had run up their trouser legs.
George became aware of a baying roar, and realized that at the same moment Annie had thrown Hansard she had also apparently either released Scamp, or the Grim had taken Annie's action as a cue to, well, unleash herself. The Grim materialized in the middle of the chamber, snarling and raging--
--And that was when the vampires broke. Scared of the Old Ones they might be, but the Old Ones weren't here, and what was in this chamber was scary enough for anyone. There was a general bolt for the exits while Clint and the housemates gathered hastily together, trying not to lose each other. Scamp and the statues chased the vampires out of the chamber in all directions, and in a moment the friends were alone, the sounds of pursuit fading down the corridors.
"All right," Clint said, trying to sound perfectly calm and nearly pulling it off, "I think we can safely assume they're out of the equation, at least for now. I guess what we do now is find Loki and the witches, get to Downing Street, and try to stop-- "
Clint broke off as more screaming broke out somewhere in the distance. Mitchell spoke for everyone as he uttered an exasperated,
"Now what?"
~oOo~
Agnes, Catherine, Daisy and Loki ran from Trafalgar Square toward Parliament, but by the time they arrived it seemed they had missed much of the action: they could see a group of panicky figures running out of the Palace. As they watched, three of the faster runners broke away from the group--
-- And were crushed beneath the pouncing paws of a Trafalgar Square lion.
Daisy let out a small noise of shock, then all of them jumped as the bushes rustled near them. Loki very nearly let loose with a defensive blast, but the bush called out in a familiar voice:
"It's us!"
"Geoff?" Daisy demanded.
"And Campbell," said a second voice, as the two vampires emerged from the shrubbery.
"We weren't sure they could tell whose side we're on," Geoff explained sheepishly, gesturing toward the prowling lion, which no longer resembled the friendly creature who allowed children to climb upon him. Loki had no great opinion of the vampire, but he could not blame Geoff for choosing discretion as the better part of valour.
"Where are Mitchell and the others?" Loki demanded.
"They haven't come out this door," Campbell said. At Loki's raised eyebrows, the vampire hastily explained, "They were captured and taken inside."
"Indeed?" Loki inquired, in a tone that made both vampires look as if they thought perhaps the lions were the lesser terror. Catherine coughed, a small significant noise, and Loki collected himself. "And are they safe?" he asked, in a deliberately reasonable tone.
Well, he was trying to sound reasonable. Judging by the vampires' expressions he appeared to be making matters worse. In fact even to his own ears he rather sounded like he was about to offer a choice between fire and the stake. In a final effort to moderate the effect he was creating, he smiled. Geoff whimpered and Campbell looked rather faint.
Catherine cast a ferocious glance at Loki and seemed about to take over from him, when Loki felt a rustle in the atmosphere and Annie appeared at his side.
"Oh thank goodness," she exclaimed. And then, for Annie was always courteous, she cast a hasty smile of greeting around the group. Vampires being dead had no need of respiration, but Geoff and Campbell both appeared to breathe again. Annie seized Loki by the arm. "Everyone else is still inside the Commons chamber. We were going to come out, but then we could hear that something else was going on out here-- what was going on?"
"Lions," Loki explained succinctly, gesturing. Annie looked over her shoulder, registered the enormous lion prowling before the exit, and made one of her adorable little grimaces.
"Well done," she remarked. "I assume that's more of your best girl London's work, yeah?"
"Not my best girl," Loki demurred. Annie's expression indicated the silver tongue had said the right thing. Geoff and Campbell's expressions indicated that, from terror, they were perhaps now experiencing nausea. Agnes and Catherine looked patient.
"Do you think you can get past your little friends and get the others out?" Annie asked practically, and Loki abruptly remembered the small matters of saving the Prime Minister, and possibly the world. "Because we'd really appreciate that."
"As you wish," Loki replied. Annie smiled.
Also I mentioned in the notes to the last chapter that I figured it was about four in the morning. I just learned that "the witching hour" was originally considered to be between 3 and 4 AM. So that's what time it is.
Warnings: None I can think of.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
From the time he arrived in Britain (landed, they called it, when one was an immigrant one landed in Britain, and by now Loki found the irony pleasing)--
From the time he landed in Britain, Loki had made an effort to "fit in." Probably this began as a defensive mechanism-- he had never really "fit in" to Asgard, and look how that turned out-- an effort to ingratiate himself with his new companions so they would not change their minds about letting him stay. Regardless, the longer he stayed, and the deeper ran his affection for this peculiar realm and its inhabitants, the more sincere were the efforts.
Eventually, after he felt reasonably comfortable with most aspects of everyday life, he even began to take a certain interest in sport. Midgardians' obsession with the subject initially puzzled him-- there was no equivalent passion in Asgard, unless one counted warfare which was hardly the same thing-- but he did his best. The fact there were options that involved much in the way of skill and trickery, and comparatively little brute strength, helped. Football was of course ubiquitous, and Mitchell, who liked it, was willing to explain the rules. Loki's efforts to understand cricket were less successful, since no one else in the house seemed to have any idea what the rules of the game were, either. Show-jumping was by contrast self-explanatory, and Loki had (in an entirely unmythological way) always been fond of horses.
His interest in motorsport began in the earliest days of his friendship with Tony Stark, who of course owned a (middling-successful) Formula One team of his own. However, as soon as he began to follow the sport in the press at home, Loki became aware of the long tradition of British motor racing, with heroes and villains (relatively speaking) of its own. Mitchell, who of course had followed the sport since its beginnings, had many stories to tell of its earliest days. George, not normally interested in sport, liked the technical aspects. Annie seldom watched the actual races, but had an affection for certain of the drivers, generally for reasons having nothing whatsoever to do with racing. ("Look how cute his dogs are!")
Loki, also for reasons having little to do with racing, now cheered for McLaren and also Williams, and took a friendly interest in all British drivers (including the one with the dogs) no matter what team employed them.
It was, fortunately, not required that he cheer only for British drivers, and so he also followed the fortunes of many others: the cryptic Finn, the cheerful Australian, the mischievous German. It was the latter who, once asked what he liked about the British, replied, "Their sense of humour. It's not going to be the weather or the food, is it?"
Loki had reached the point at which he could admit, at least privately to himself, that he was not always completely enamoured of British weather-- cold, raw, and rainy was not really his preference. On the other hand he quite liked British food, particularly curry.
However, as he watched the bronze lions stand, stretch, and, one by one, leap down from their places at the foot of the column, he found himself fully in agreement with the German driver: the best thing about Britain was indeed its sense of humour.
Daisy, her usual air of careless arrogance notably shaken, stared wide-eyed as the huge creatures passed them, moving with the rolling-shouldered swagger of all big cats.
"What are you doing?" she asked hoarsely.
"I?" Loki replied, with synthetic innocence and considerable satisfaction. He waved his arms in an all-encompassing gesture. "I am doing nothing. It is your realm."
Agnes Scott seemed about to speak, but whatever she intended to say was left unsaid as a bronze chariot rattled by, carrying three martial-looking bronze women and heading toward Parliament. At Loki's questioning look, Agnes said briefly,
"Boadicea, with her daughters. She was a British queen who led her people against the Roman invaders."
"Ah," said Loki. "I begin to sense a theme."
~oOo~
Some distance away, on the Strand, stood the church of St Clement Danes. At this hour even its famous bells were silent, the grounds dark, though the church itself was gently illuminated by outdoor lights gleaming on its pale stone, and on the blue cross that heralded it as RAF St Clement Danes, central church of the Royal Air Force.
Also illuminated was the statue of a thin, solemn-faced man in uniform, hands at his lapels. Despite his garb, he looked thoughtful and resolute rather than fierce.
The impression of resolution persisted as he blinked, lowered his hands, and turned toward Parliament.
Then, moving rather stiffly, Air Chief Marshal Sir Hugh Caswall Tremenheere Dowding climbed down from his plinth and set off toward the Palace of Westminster.
~oOo~
The scene was repeated all across the city, as effigies stepped down from their pedestals and began the walk, long or short, toward Parliament. Queens and suffragettes, soldiers and kings on horseback, a former Lord Mayor accompanied by his cat. Two tiny mice ceased squabbling over a bit of cheese in Philpott Street, while St George raised his lance and allowed the dragon to accompany him. In Parliament Square itself, Winston Churchill leaned on his walking stick and, head thrust aggressively forward, led a group of statesmen-- some of whom would never, in life, have followed him anywhere-- toward the Palace of Westminster.
Far above their heads, Big Ben spoke, sounding first his carillon and then three great chimes.
~oOo~
"I wouldn't advise you to try any ghostie shit," Gareth addressed Annie. "Because if you do, your human pal is lunch." Annie, face grim, gestured to Scamp to be quiet. The little dog's growls subsided.
"Gareth," Mitchell said with flat calm, glancing around at the vampires who surrounded them. Gareth's confident sneer seemed genuine, but judging by their expressions a few of his followers remembered Mitchell's days as Herrick's attack dog, and still feared him.
Good.
He also took heart at the sight of Geoff hanging around the fringes of the group. So far as he knew the younger vampire was still on their side, or at any rate Ivan's, and Mitchell didn't think Geoff would betray them unless (until?) Ivan did. Whether he could think of anything useful to do was an open question, of course, but Mitchell couldn't deny it was comforting to see one relatively friendly face in the crowd.
One friendly face.
"Not such a big man now, are you?" Cara spoke up, in the sort of playground taunt that could get a young vampire killed, unless they were under the specific protection of a much more powerful member of the community. Back in the not-terribly-distant past, Mitchell might have taken fatal exception to her tone. Now he simply ignored her. Sooner or later she was going to overstep herself, but that didn't help at the moment.
Rather unexpectedly, Geoff was the next to speak up:
"Are we taking them to Seth?" he asked.
"We should kill them right now," Cara objected. Gareth didn't look at either of them, just snapped,
"Seth will want to… have a word with you." Gareth looked Clint up and down, a little sneer playing at the corners of his mouth. "I think we'll leave you to speak for yourself. Might be funny."
Clint hiked an eyebrow at Gareth and offered a little sneer in return. He looked entirely unimpressed, which-- after the demonstration on the helicarrier of vampire power and its effect on him-- had to be an act. Still, the expression was convincing enough that for a second Mitchell was afraid Gareth might decide to crush the human, just to wipe the smirk off his face. If Clint was hoping to provoke Gareth into doing something dumb, though, he was going to have to try harder. Gareth just snatched the quiver of arrows off Clint's shoulder and tossed them into the bushes, then gestured to the others to take the prisoners away.
He did, however, take a moment to murmur in Mitchell's ear,
"Seth is really looking forward to seeing you again."
Mitchell shrugged. "I wish I could say the same."
The group allowed themselves to be roughly herded into the Palace of Westminster and then to the Commons, where vampires lounged on the green leather benches that normally held the bums of MPs. At the front of the chamber Seth occupied the tall Speaker's chair. His arrogant slouch was probably intended to convey his contempt for human government, but in Mitchell's opinion he just looked like someone occupying a chair that was far too large for him, and trying not to slide off.
It did cross Mitchell's mind to wonder what Loki would make of the vampires' disrespectful little pantomime. It was true that Loki seemed to think parliamentary government was the best joke ever invented, but it was also true that at the same time he appeared to take it very seriously, which wasn't really a contradiction if you knew Loki. Mitchell reckoned it was all part of Loki's whole pattern of embracing everything British (except possibly the weather) and, knowing Loki, if he saw Seth and his minions right now he'd set about teaching them some manners.
Mitchell sincerely hoped Loki got the chance to do so, and soon. In the meantime he just hoped he and his friends could avoid getting killed before Loki and the witches came to the rescue.
Seth rose to his feet as the group came into the chamber, the better to loom over them, and smiled his unpleasant, empty-headed smile as they came to a stop in front of the clerks' table.
"Well, well. What have we here?" Seth was an idiot, but even an idiot could sound intimidating with the odds stacked so much in his favour. "I must say, I don't think much of the company you're keeping these days, Mitchell. A human, your little dog-- " this with a leer at George-- "and… what is that?" he said, nose wrinkling, as he looked Annie up and down.
"I'm a ghost, actually," Annie replied stiffly. Seth had to have known that, as Herrick's chief stooge he would certainly have known all about her, but he chose to play to the gallery. With a show of surprise he said,
"Get out. Can you like, move things about and, y'know, walk from one room to another?"
Annie received this sally-- and the sycophantic laughter of the other vampires-- in silence and with an expression of scorn. George, however, spoke up:
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure everyone can do that."
Someone-- Cara-- laughed, an ugly sound, and Seth's expression hardened.
"Shut it, Digby," he snapped, looking flustered. He quickly focused on Mitchell again. "Lucky you. You're about to have a ringside seat for the end of the world."
"Is this the bit where you explain your plans to us?" Mitchell asked, trying for the expression of infuriating innocence he thought Loki would be wearing at this moment. Needling Seth probably wasn't the smartest thing to do at the moment but their options were limited and besides, Mitchell was damned if he'd give the fool the satisfaction of beating them. "You know, have a bit of a gloat?"
"I always like that part," Clint agreed.
"Should we wait for Mr. Wyndham?" Geoff asked, his tone carefully deferential. "Let him decide what to do with them and when?"
"I say we kill them now," Cara spoke up-- one track mind, that one-- and Seth turned on her.
"Shut up, you silly cow. One of you, go find Wyndham."
Without waiting for orders, Geoff nodded obsequiously and sidled out of the group. Seth watched him go, then turned back to Mitchell. "Still think you're the big man, don't you? It's sickening, really-- from Herrick's attack dog to the humans' lap dog. I would have thought even you wouldn't fall that far."
Mitchell sighed. "Really, Seth, you're not still banging on about Herrick? It might be time to think about getting some help-- it's not too late to find love again."
Which really was a stupid thing to say and probably would have been the remark that tipped Seth over the edge into murderous rage--
-- Except that, before the other vampire could react, there was a commotion outside the chamber. Then the doors crashed open.
~oOo~
"How'd it go?" Tony, who along with Steve had been lurking around in the corridor, asked as Thor emerged from the conference room. "I mean, obviously we're still flying so it can't have gone that badly, but Othor came by a minute ago with a face like, well, you know, so-- "
Steve poked him sharply in the ribs, which in the absence of the suit hurt a lot, and Tony fell silent, and also into step with Thor as the big guy strode down the corridor. He also had a face like, well, you know.
"Thor?" Steve prompted quietly. "It would be great if we all knew what's going on."
Thor stopped, took a deep breath, and smiled tightly. "I apologize. My efforts to act as a peacemaker were a spectacular failure, the other Thor seems to want nothing further to do with his brother while the other Loki denies he even has a brother."
"You think they'll be able to work together?" Steve asked.
"Jesus, Steve-- " Tony began, because damn that was cold, but Thor seemed grateful for the change of focus.
"I think it would be best if we kept them separate for now," he admitted. "But when the time comes for action, I expect there will be enough for both to do to keep occupied."
"No doubt," Steve agreed. "In the meantime, Natasha's going to be our point person with the other Avengers-- "
"Two Black Widows in the same room," Tony chipped in, shuddering elaborately. "Picture that." Thor smiled again, though it was clear his heart was still not in it. "Come on, big guy. Let's go see if we can scare up a cup of coffee someplace."
"That is a capital idea," Thor agreed, relaxing slightly.
The moment didn't last long, because when they arrived at the galley they found it already occupied by not only Coulson and new-Loki, but also Stark and Rogers.
It didn't look like a pleasant tete-a-tete. In fact, it might have been Tony's imagination, but he though Coulson actually looked relieved at the interruption. The agent nodded to the newcomers and poured out more cups of coffee.
"I assume this is what you're looking for?" he said, handing a cup to Tony. From the corner of his eye Tony could see Loki relax slightly.
"Yeah, since I don't think it would be a good idea to get drunk before we face Doombots, I figure I'll just work on getting as wired as possible," he said cheerfully. "Loki, have you found any tea?" Loki tensed up again and Tony hastily waved off his own comment. "Sorry, man, I forgot you've only been here a couple of days. Seems like a whole lot longer. Even living with Annie you probably haven't gotten trained on tea-making just yet."
"No," Loki replied. And then, with an apparent effort, he added, "Annie seems to enjoy making the tea herself."
"I wonder how she is at coffee?" Tony wondered.
"They do not keep it," Thor spoke up. With a theatrical shudder of his own, he explained, "Or, rather, they use a foul powder they refer to as 'instant.' The less said of it, the better."
"Ew," Tony agreed, with a shudder of his own, and took a hit from the mug in his hand. Then he turned to Stark and Rogers. "Had a burning need for caffeine as well, did you?"
"Yes," Rogers said flatly.
"And information," Stark added, because no matter what reality he came from, Tony Stark could not fucking let well enough alone.
"Information?" Tony prompted.
"Yeah. Just in general. You-- " he was addressing Thor-- "said something about your brother coming from a different-- "
"A different race, yes," Thor agreed, cutting a glance at new-Loki as he spoke. No explosion followed, not that Stark seemed to be worrying about that.
"So, like, how much is that influencing how Thor, I mean our Thor, is acting toward his brother right now?" Stark said. "Because, you know, we have enough problems already without adding racism to the whole mess."
"Especially with Lt-Col Rhodes and Master Sergeant Wilson joining us," Rogers added, looking a little constipated-- seriously, that other reality must be majorly deficient in fibre-- but also genuinely concerned. Tony definitely liked both of them better right now, but he did wish Thor had said "species" instead of "race."
Loki, looking genuinely confused, reinforced Tony's thought as he said, "What have they to do with this matter?"
Stark snorted. "Okay, man, I get that you're not from around here, but believe me, we know all about racism on this planet, and we don't need you Asgard guys getting all weird about Rhodey and Wilson."
Thor, with a cautious glance at Loki, made an awkward attempt to defuse the situation:
"It is perhaps a little more complicated than you think."
Which was pretty much the worst thing he could have said, and Stark naturally jumped all over him:
"Oh yes, of course it's 'complicated.' It's always 'complicated.' There's always a good reason for shit like that, except there isn't. I know you Asgard guys think everything about you is special, but seriously, there's nothing you need to tell us about-- awk!"
Okay, well, maybe the last syllable of that speech wasn't quite "awk!" but it was close enough. Rogers said nothing, but he looked for a second like his constipation issue might have spontaneously resolved itself.
Which was understandable, because all of a sudden, sitting in Loki's place was a huge Jotun, and he didn't look happy.
It had to be a glamour instead of a shapeshift, since the "Jotun" wasn't clad in the tattered remains of Loki's clothing, but it was pretty damned convincing. And it certainly shut Stark up.
Jotun-Loki smiled, or at least bared his teeth. "Do you still believe we have nothing to tell you? What, quite silent now? No wisdom to offer?" Stark and Rogers remained silent, and Loki turned on Tony, Steve and Coulson. "And you? Would you be so attached to your tame Loki if he looked like this?"
Coulson shrugged. "I admit you're a little taller than our Loki in his Jotun form, and the business of not being able to touch any of us is pretty inconvenient, but he's working on that."
Jotun-Loki blinked at Steve in apparent astonishment, and Tony spoke up before he found his tongue:
"Also, he's a great guy to have on your side in a snowball fight, isn't he, Steve?"
"Sure is," Steve agreed amiably. "We also appreciated the help we got from Jotunheim a while back, when we were having some trouble with shapeshifting aliens from space." He smiled thinly at Stark and Rogers. "Remind us to tell you about that sometime." Returning his attention to Loki, Steve said kindly, "It really is different for your people and the Jotnar, I know that. Here on Earth, our prejudices are mostly a matter of skin colour, religion, culture-- that kind of thing. But underneath it all we're all humans. So no, we don't really understand the, the kind of racism that involves a whole different species that's physically very different, but very similar in terms of emotions and intelligence."
Jotun-Loki made a scoffing noise, and Thor spoke up:
"It is true, Loki. Of late, since my brother's disastrous actions, there have been efforts made at reconciliation between our realms. The stories we were told as children were only that, stories, and I am sure Jotun children were also told of the wicked Aesir who would eat them up-- "
There was a sparkle of green, and Loki was back to his normal self. Tony thought he was maybe too upset to hang onto the glamour right now-- his expression was the stiff one their Loki wore when he was trying to pretend everything was fine. His tone of voice was still pure sarcasm:
"And what of the Allfather? The great and wise king of Asgard? Is he after all capable of error?"
"He is," Thor replied evenly. "And has admitted as much."
"And you?" Loki demanded. "Are you proud to call a monster brother?"
Thor favoured Loki with a look of disappointment that probably would have reduced his own brother to a puddle-- even New-Loki looked like he knew he'd gone too far, although obviously he didn't admit as much.
"My brother is no monster, no matter his form," Thor said, his tone gentle but definite. Loki actually looked a little ashamed of himself. "And the Jotnar are not monsters at all." He studied Loki with thoughtful eyes, then added, "As for myself, I am no longer the vicious youth who thought so little of my neighbours that I would murder them for a jest, so I suppose I am a monster no longer, as well."
Loki studied Thor for a long silent moment, his jaw tense and his eyes burning. For a second there Tony thought it was touch and go whether he'd blow something up, but instead he just got up and walked out. Coulson nodded to the others and followed him.
"I don't know if we're going to be able to beat Doom, but we've got him cold in the making-a-dramatic-exit category," Tony commented.
"Damn," Stark murmured, shaking his head. "That's… that's messed up. Thor, you know how messed up that is, right? Of course you do. I mean… monsters. I know you said they're not really monsters, but damn, that looked like a monster-- "
"Stark," Tony said tiredly, "will you shut up, for God's sake? Thor, do you suppose this has made things worse?"
"I do not know," Thor said heavily. "Probably."
"I don't think so," Steve spoke up. Everyone looked at him. "Didn't you notice? What made him put on that Jotun form?"
"Yeah?" Tony prompted.
"It was after Stark got after Thor-- he didn't like that at all, and I think he did it to back up Thor's point. Now, admittedly, he did it to prove the Jotnar are monsters, which isn't good, but he was defending Thor. That's a good sign, isn't it?"
Thor blinked. "That is-- yes. Yes, that is… heartening."
Tony, with thoughts in his head of what might happen if both Lokis started fighting over the same Thor, was maybe a little less "heartened," but for once in his life he had the sense to keep quiet. They could drive off that bridge when they came to it.
~oOo~
There probably should have been guards posted in an organized fashion around the Palace-- in fact, vampires probably should have replaced the human guards who were now locked in a small inner chamber, sitting on the floor and staring straight ahead. These guards' eventual fate was obvious, and Geoff's mouth watered guiltily as the thought crossed his mind, but for the moment the vampires were sticking surprisingly closely to their plan. That, Geoff reckoned, was down not so much to Seth and his leadership as the prospect of having to explain themselves to Wyndham and the other Old Ones.
And speaking of other Old Ones, Geoff had been sent to find Wyndham, but obviously he wasn't going to do that. As a matter of fact he was hoping to find Loki, who had to be around here somewhere, and tell him what was going on. He'd also just pulled out his mobile to send Ivan a text when someone stepped out from behind a hedge and would have frightened the life out of him if he hadn't already been dead.
And then he recognized Campbell, one of his fellow spies. "Jesus!" Geoff hissed. "What are you doing out here?"
"Protecting the perimeter," Campbell replied in a hoarse whisper. Geoff stared at him. "That's what Seth sent me to do. If Mitchell and his lot come by I was hoping to help them get into the Palace."
"Too late, they're already in there," Geoff replied, and quickly explained the situation as he typed a text to Ivan. "I don't know what Loki has in mind, but-- "
Whatever Geoff had been planning to say next completely fled from his mind as a horse-drawn chariot came rattling up the silent street. Campbell grabbed him and dragged him out of the way, but the horses stopped, prancing and rearing before them. One of the three women in the chariot, the one standing in the centre brandishing a spear, silently turned toward them. Geoff had a moment to wonder whether her spear could kill a vampire-- it wasn't wooden, but it was obviously magical-- when the woman turned away in dismissal and the chariot moved on.
"What the fuck-- ?" Campbell breathed.
"Loki," Geoff said, definitely. "He can't be far."
~oOo~
"Oh for the love of-- " George blurted as the doors to the Commons broke open under what turned out to be, appropriately, the heavy fist of Winston Churchill.
Unlike the vampires, George and his friends wasted no time uselessly wondering what was happening-- Loki. Loki was happening. (Loki himself would certainly insist it was all London and he was merely the amplifier, but George was of the opinion that if London had chosen a different instrument its magic might have made some less… conspicuous choices.)
The vampires, meanwhile, wasted several crucial second simply gaping as the doorway filled with walking statues. Then several of them made the inexplicable and frankly very stupid decision to advance on the bronze Churchill. George reckoned the vampires had simply been unable to believe what impossible thing they were seeing, which really was ridiculous when you considered the vampires were, themselves, vampires--
Churchill was carrying a walking stick-- not a wooden one, obviously, so there was no telling how effective it might be as a stake. It turned out not to matter very much because, instead of using it to impale the first vampire to accost him, the statue simply snapped the cane upwards and sideways and cracked the vampire across the temple. There was a sickening smack and the vampire staggered and went down.
Seth, on a high note, demanded "What the fuck is this?"
Which, in George's opinion, was a mistake since it attracted the attention of Winston Churchill. The statue did not, of course, speak or change his expression, but it wasn't hard to imagine that even the animated effigy of Churchill would take offense at this invasion of the Commons. Churchill lumbered forward as, behind him, a gang of loyal or optimistic or simply very stupid vampires closed in on the rest of the statues. One of them was immediately chucked halfway across the room by Abraham Lincoln, while another was incongruously punched in the face by Mahatma Ghandi.
In the free-for-all that resulted Mitchell grabbed Clint and startled to hustle him toward the nearest door, which happened to be the one behind the Speaker's chair. George had no idea where it led, but putting a sturdy door between this scrum and the human seemed like a really good idea. Seth shouted something and Gareth and one of the minions went after them.
Mitchell glanced back, then shoved Clint toward the door and turned to face the other vampires, his lips curling back in a snarl. Gareth responded with a snarl of his own as he strode forward, and Mitchell suddenly looked rather small.
George glanced around for a weapon. Understandably, such things were in short supply in the Commons, but the Clerk's table stood nearby. George ran toward it and picked up one of the heavy wooden chairs provided for the Clerk and his assistants. As Gareth swaggered toward Mitchell and Clint-- who of course hadn't run when he had the chance-- George swung the chair up over his head and brought it down as hard as he could on Gareth's.
The chair broke, the vampire went down like a wet sack, and George, his blood thoroughly up, turned to the rest of the room and bellowed, "Who wants some of my chair?"
Which frankly sounded a lot more butch in his head than out loud.
Annie was looking around for something to throw. Up until very recently not even her biggest fan (that is, Loki) would have called on her for support in a fight, but since her discovery of her poltergeist powers things had changed considerably. She gestured at the Clerk's table and a set of large, heavy volumes, probably Hansard, rose into the air and then dive-bombed the vampire melee. Seth, meanwhile, was twisting in the grip of Winston Churchill, Chief Air Marshall Dowding had two vampires by the scruffs of their necks and was banging their heads together, Nelson Mandela and Emma Pankhurst had chucked another lot of vampires into a wall, and in the middle of the fracas two vampires suddenly began to dance around, shrieking, almost as if mice had run up their trouser legs.
George became aware of a baying roar, and realized that at the same moment Annie had thrown Hansard she had also apparently either released Scamp, or the Grim had taken Annie's action as a cue to, well, unleash herself. The Grim materialized in the middle of the chamber, snarling and raging--
--And that was when the vampires broke. Scared of the Old Ones they might be, but the Old Ones weren't here, and what was in this chamber was scary enough for anyone. There was a general bolt for the exits while Clint and the housemates gathered hastily together, trying not to lose each other. Scamp and the statues chased the vampires out of the chamber in all directions, and in a moment the friends were alone, the sounds of pursuit fading down the corridors.
"All right," Clint said, trying to sound perfectly calm and nearly pulling it off, "I think we can safely assume they're out of the equation, at least for now. I guess what we do now is find Loki and the witches, get to Downing Street, and try to stop-- "
Clint broke off as more screaming broke out somewhere in the distance. Mitchell spoke for everyone as he uttered an exasperated,
"Now what?"
~oOo~
Agnes, Catherine, Daisy and Loki ran from Trafalgar Square toward Parliament, but by the time they arrived it seemed they had missed much of the action: they could see a group of panicky figures running out of the Palace. As they watched, three of the faster runners broke away from the group--
-- And were crushed beneath the pouncing paws of a Trafalgar Square lion.
Daisy let out a small noise of shock, then all of them jumped as the bushes rustled near them. Loki very nearly let loose with a defensive blast, but the bush called out in a familiar voice:
"It's us!"
"Geoff?" Daisy demanded.
"And Campbell," said a second voice, as the two vampires emerged from the shrubbery.
"We weren't sure they could tell whose side we're on," Geoff explained sheepishly, gesturing toward the prowling lion, which no longer resembled the friendly creature who allowed children to climb upon him. Loki had no great opinion of the vampire, but he could not blame Geoff for choosing discretion as the better part of valour.
"Where are Mitchell and the others?" Loki demanded.
"They haven't come out this door," Campbell said. At Loki's raised eyebrows, the vampire hastily explained, "They were captured and taken inside."
"Indeed?" Loki inquired, in a tone that made both vampires look as if they thought perhaps the lions were the lesser terror. Catherine coughed, a small significant noise, and Loki collected himself. "And are they safe?" he asked, in a deliberately reasonable tone.
Well, he was trying to sound reasonable. Judging by the vampires' expressions he appeared to be making matters worse. In fact even to his own ears he rather sounded like he was about to offer a choice between fire and the stake. In a final effort to moderate the effect he was creating, he smiled. Geoff whimpered and Campbell looked rather faint.
Catherine cast a ferocious glance at Loki and seemed about to take over from him, when Loki felt a rustle in the atmosphere and Annie appeared at his side.
"Oh thank goodness," she exclaimed. And then, for Annie was always courteous, she cast a hasty smile of greeting around the group. Vampires being dead had no need of respiration, but Geoff and Campbell both appeared to breathe again. Annie seized Loki by the arm. "Everyone else is still inside the Commons chamber. We were going to come out, but then we could hear that something else was going on out here-- what was going on?"
"Lions," Loki explained succinctly, gesturing. Annie looked over her shoulder, registered the enormous lion prowling before the exit, and made one of her adorable little grimaces.
"Well done," she remarked. "I assume that's more of your best girl London's work, yeah?"
"Not my best girl," Loki demurred. Annie's expression indicated the silver tongue had said the right thing. Geoff and Campbell's expressions indicated that, from terror, they were perhaps now experiencing nausea. Agnes and Catherine looked patient.
"Do you think you can get past your little friends and get the others out?" Annie asked practically, and Loki abruptly remembered the small matters of saving the Prime Minister, and possibly the world. "Because we'd really appreciate that."
"As you wish," Loki replied. Annie smiled.