Chapter 6
Loki
The done weakening, salty aroma misting the air.
My god alien ice giant blood entangled with part human spark. Stiles chanting a script I haven’t heard before, I have heard chanting script up to my eyeballs.
Stiles jelly unsteady legs using the tree of life as a walking cane, he has given more blood than it's safely to donate. My grandson is a stubbon mule.
Stiles glancing at the wolf bleeding out on the ground, his fiancé implying pressure.
Agents punch, kicking, firing bullets. Exhaustion kicking in. Sweat droplets dripping down faces.
One second I’m observing our chances of winning, the next in a white room. Stiles standing by my side. Eyelid drooping and hunched over.
“Hello Nemeton, aren't I lucky to see you twice in a day.”
This darkness cloud is the tree of life; isn't that ionic. Odin would faint. The tree of life being light and all powerful. It’s a dark fog inside a tree.
“Hello Stiles, Loki. Stop the beacon. I will be invisible, my powers restored. Thanos wouldn’t know my location. The spiders, unable to see me. Harvest season will end. Stiles, thank you for giving me a tiny part of your force. Your magic. Once I’m a full-grown adult; shrink me, take me to Haven. Loki, this next part Stile has to do it on his own.”
What the hell, gave part of his life force. His magic is sacred. That's sacred. It’s unthinkable to give that up.
“Why would you give that up?”
Stiles stare pierced into my soul, “why wouldn’t I? Thanos is on the attack. Beacon Hill is in danger. I abandoned it a long time ago. But it's my hometown. This next part; step back, don't get involved.”
Don’t get involved in what?
Opening my eyes. Canon lasers rain upon us. Smokey ash wafting through the forest, burnt chicken comes to mind. Thanos’s goons beam down, circling the Nemeton.
Stiles is illuminating, gold shining glow glossing his skin, fingers spread out his palm directly on the trunk.
Stiles held at gunpoint deliberately in the bullet's path.
Magically creating a staff, bashing the staff across the henchman knee, he goes buckling to the ground. One down, nine to go. Peter claws a goon in the chest, kicking him in the goonies.
Attacking back, one henchman has their own staff. Long sticks crossing each other. Clacking, yacking, pocking.
“I’m ready Nemeton,” Stiles whispers.
Stiles collapses. The Nemeton grows rapidly, Orange, green and vibrant red leaves showcasing on branches. The grand, elegant tree was only an hour ago a stump.
Racing to Stile’s side, two fingers checking for a pulse. None. I have just found my grandson. Now he’s dead.
The goons beam back up. No reason for the retreat. Looking back at the tree, it’s no longer visible.
Peter falls to his knee puffy eyed. “Stiles, wake up. Darling, wake up,” shaking Stiles’s limp body.
The remaining spiders crawl back underneath, where they came from. The wolf transforms into human flesh and the injury fully healed up, not a single scratch on his skin.
“I told you, Stiles would corrupt the Nemeton again,” said the whiny alpha. Bob, Jerry, Fred, doesn’t matter what his name is.
Pouncing on the apparent true alpha hand on his throat. “He saved us, false alpha.”
“Brother release the man at once.” Thor had to reappear now.
“No.”
Captain America and Thor tackle me off the whiny baby. A familiar sensation hits me in the gut.
“Oh, my god. Stiles, is he dead?” said Tony.
Oh, so caring Tony it's not like he cared before. Goes over to Stiles, unable to sit with him. Peter, wolf-man, crazy shiny blue-eyed girl and the Director crowding Siles.
The people from Section 7 crying their eyes out over Stiles.
Pushing Steve and Thor off me, helping hand a magical boost. Thump to the ground.
“Get off me.” Placing my hands on the weakling. Finding what I was looking for, a shining glimmer of hope. Pure white circular energy ball, once belonged to Stiles. True alpha. What true alpha. Alpha spark was lit by Stiles. Not like man-baby deserved it. Him losing his alpha-hood will give me pleasure.
Fighting for a spot near Stiles. Pushing the pure energy into Stiles. Magical CPR. Come on, this should work. Can't imagine why Stiles would give part of his spark to the loser. Oh, that’s how he became a true alpha.
Ironman grabs my arm. “What did you just do?”
Gasping. Eyes glittering. Stiles is alive.
Peter gently bashes Stiles' arm. “Why would you do a dying sacrifice after the last time? I nearly lost you.”
He did this before; he doesn't have my self-preservation gene.
The clear up started. The town is in a rough state; rubble scattered the street, houses collapsing, businesses in meltdown. The hospital in a dire panic bed filling up quickly. Section 7 helping the situation.
Beacon Hill's only hotel is at full capacity. Section 7 and the Avengers staying the night, dawn breaking the night.
Hand hovering inches away from knocking, two voices in Stiles' room.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you growing up. For a long time I was self-centred, there's no excuse that I left you with a jackass father.”
Stiles coughs. “Tony It’s not your fault. I have a busy life too.”
footsteps near the door. “I want to be a brother to you. I’m not great at family”
What. Stile is giving Stark a chance. I wasn’t there, but that was different. Stark was partying the decade away. The link between me and my daughter was dangerous knowledge.
“We can suck at this family thing together.”
Shifting to the side; hiding, behind the opening door letting Stark pass, hopping he will walk in the opposite direction, lucky he did. Waiting five minutes, I knock on the door.
“For the god of mischief, your mysterious nature is lacking. As a former rebellious child, I can be more stealthy than a few minutes breathing loud in a hallway. Surrender pose, I just got here defence.”
I’m not lacking in mischief. I’m a trickster god. Thy trickster god.
“I’m not lacking in any sense. Rebellious is hard to believe. You gave up part of your soul, to undeserving creatures. You could have died. Did die. Did you know you gave part of your spark to the false alpha?”
“No, Scott was my best friend. My brother. He ruined me. Cut me into tiny cube pieces. When he turned into the true alpha it was a critical situation. He saved many lives that night. Rebellious was my middle name. Mom nicknamed me mischief; when I was little.”
How ironic that is, without knowing Claudia nicknamed Stiles after me.
Stiles sits up on the bed he was lying on. The teeny bare room, a bed and a wooden table in the corner. Their tactical gear scattered, laying on every surface.
“You're my grandson. I want to know you. Learn more about my daughter's life.”
“Déjà vu, I have already had one family reunion today. I have read enough norse mythology to guess what happened to your other children. Calling you grandpa it's too weirded-out for me. I would be up for getting to know you, I have an offer for you; you're not an Avenger, you probably don’t want to go back to Asgard. A couple of years ago I helped to build a haven for the supernatural and for anyone who doesn't fit into our society. That could include you.
A society his darling children could have been safe in. A safe place for magic users like myself. Nothing sounds sweeter than that.