Chapter 43
New York, United States
June 2011
The clothes itched.
Loki rubbed irritatedly at his elbow. Maintaining a full illusion for hours on end was taxing, particularly when he was holding a constant shield up to stay hidden from Heimdall. Everything was simpler to simply steal the necessary garments from a Midgardian man and clothe himself as would the man he was impersonating.
He smirked at the thought of Derek Bord, CNN reporter. Distasteful man. Loki had watched him take one too many passes at a waitress’ private bodily regions and decided quickly that Mr. Bord had a little bit of vengeance coming his way. The reporter was currently trapped in an unpleasant vision spell in his own home with enough food to get him by for a few days. Hopefully. Loki still didn’t understand the limitations of these fragile Midgardian bodies. He’d go back when he was done with Derek Bord’s visage and release the man from the vision, wipe his memory, and be on his way.
But for now, this was what he needed to get close to Darcy Lewis. So this was the face he wore.
Even though Loki rather hated it. His own was so much more attractive.
A spell alerted him. Loki straightened and his gaze snapped to attention on the front door.
There she was.
Darcy Lewis stepped out of the automatic doors and ducked her head over her phone. She turned left out of the doors.
He didn’t know where she was going, but he didn’t need to.
Loki crossed the street and fell into step behind her.
She tried to hide it, but he caught the moment when she realized she was being followed, and not very subtly either.
“Miss Lewis,” he said quietly.
Darcy Lewis turned and caught him in her eyes. “Mr. Bord, I believe.”
“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” he said.
She raised one eyebrow. “I’m afraid I can’t say the same. If you wish to schedule an interview, our PR department-”
“That’s not what I’m here for,” Loki interrupted, and brought beads of perspiration to his illusion’s forehead. He glanced around nervously and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I need to speak with you.”
“About…”
Loki stepped closer and lowered his voice, careful to keep the predatory intensity he knew was in his own eyes out of those of his illusion. “I’m a reporter,” he said quietly. “I have a carte blanche to speak with some… very well-placed people. People in the State Department, for example.”
“People like the Secretary?” Darcy Lewis asked. Her attention had focused, sharpened. Loki resisted a smile. The Midgardian television spoke of the Hulk, or Iron Man, or Captain America, as being the most powerful of the Avengers. He knew they were not entirely correct. Here was one of the most dangerous people among the group who had stopped the Chitauri. She had so much potential for chaos, so much ambition, such a clever mind—especially for a Midgardian—that it was fascinating.
“People like the Secretary’s aides,” Loki corrected. “People who support the Avengers, and who would like me to pass on a warning.”
Darcy Lewis cocked her head. “What’s the warning, messenger boy?”
O, that was a challenge. Loki was looking forward to matching wits with this one. He would win, of course; he always did. But she would present an interesting diversion during his incarceration on Midgard.
“Let’s speak somewhere a little less visible?” Loki suggested.
Miss Lewis checked her watch. “I have half an hour. There’s a cafe a block down. Good?”
“That’ll do,” Loki agreed.
They set off down the street.