The Ragnarok Trials

Day Eleven: Let It All Hang Out

Day Eleven
         Let It All Hang Out
Focus Word: Chill
Word Count: 1692

"Sorry, Loki, my TV is on the blink."

I smiled and shook my head, dismissing the apology. "Don't worry, Herms. I'm here to talk, not to watch daytime television."

Hermes laughed. It was a warm sound, the laugh of a consummate liar, though I knew it to be authentic. The Greek trickster was handsome, like all of his kind, with golden curls, green eyes, and sun-kissed skin that always glowed with a healthy tan. He could make a woman swoon with nothing but a look and even I, who knew him for what he was, was not immune to his charms.

For all that, I really liked him. He had real chutzpah. And, of course, he was as close to me as any other god could be, silver-tongued trickster that he was. Coming from a pantheon entirely devoted to order, he was not quite in my league, but I have to admit that he told a good story. Not to mention that he, like Bacchus, seemed to know almost everything. And, unlike Bacchus, he would probably give me the information for nothing.

We were friendly, after all.

"You're here about Baldur's death, then," Hermes said, as if I had already told him exactly what I meant to speak to him about. He settled his bulk--not that there was much, of course, as he was mostly lean muscle--at his dining table, where a plate full of food had sat waiting for him. Apparently, he had been about to eat when I'd knocked on his door. He appeared to be eating a Reuben sandwich with extra sauerkraut, which amused me greatly. Usually, we prefer to stick with the food we'd lived with for so long. Hermes appeared to have branched out a bit, adopting foreign cuisines. He always did walk to his own beat. "Did you want something to eat? I'm assuming you're coming from Baldur's memorial, of course."

"Yeah. Got stabbed, too." I rubbed the spot at my stomach where Freya had pressed the knife into me. Nothing remained of the wound, not even the pain, such was Gabriel's power. Of course, had I been a god in his prime, it would have been the same, but I am not. And I could never have healed another person's wound. Which only made Gabriel that much more awe-inspiring.

He was already wonderful, of course. But his power was ridiculous.

"Stabbed? Who the fuck...ah, Freya, I would imagine." Hermes took a bite of his sandwich, watching me as he chewed. "She's the ringleader of their crazy suicide pact."

I pulled out a chair and plopped myself into it, hands resting on the dark wood of Hermes' table. It was uncomfortably warm in his apartment, but I refused to remove my jacket and reveal to Hermes that I was carrying a weapon. Deals with Bacchus included silence; I wasn't sure that Hermes would be able to keep his mouth shut, and he had no compulsion to remain silent. "I gathered that when Odin went ape shit about it. He didn't appreciate Freya bringing Gabriel down on them either."

"Yeah, I didn't think Odin would be particularly chill about that sort of thing. Listen," Hermes finished the sandwich, and washed it down with a can of Coke. "I'm gonna let it all hang out for you. I understand that you're under a deadline and everything, and what with the crazies trying to bring about Ragnarok, so I'm going to tell you. Ares threatened to kill Baldur the next time they met."

"Did he now?" I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms across my chest. "And when was this?"

"The night before we found Baldur's body." Hermes pushed away from the table and slinked into his kitchen. It was plainly furnished, but had plenty of storage, even if the cabinets were painted the world's most hideous light blue. Hermes didn't appear to care overmuch about appearances; as long as things worked, they were fine by him.

The rest of the apartment--at least so far as I could see--was comfortable, with plush couches and second hand everything else. It looked rather like a college apartment; the definition of bachelor pad. Every major gaming console seemed to be represented here, with controllers lying around everywhere; no wonder his television was broken. He probably spent the majority of his free time playing video games. That did it: he was king of the bachelors.

Lucky bastard.

"Do you think he did it, Herms?" Hermes was not one of the Greek gods that had risen up against the Norse...uprising. There were a lot of uprisings going on. I think I need a name for them. Let's call the Norse the Resurgence Party, and the Greeks the Let's Just Stay Alive, You Idiots Party, or LJSAYI Party. OK, let's just say the Norse and the Greeks. That sounds a lot less stupid. In any case, Hermes was not a part of the violence, and so I trusted him to tell me the truth about how he felt. Plus, liar to liar, I could tell when he was speaking falsehoods.

"He might have. Honestly, dude, he might have. Ares has never been known for keeping his temper. But, then again, he was with Aphrodite that night...and I'm not entirely sure he left her side at all. Which would mean that he has an alibi for the time of Baldur's death. Athena might have done it, though. She was none too happy when she heard about the Norse and what they were whispering in the streets. And she might have judged it the wisest course of action to take out a member of the opposition in order to knock their knees out from under them." Hermes sighed. "You're looking for someone who's good with a sword. Of all of us, Ares and Athena are the best. Apollo and Artemis prefer their bows and Hercules, while powerful, has sworn off violence since Hera made him go crazy."

"What of the Celts?" I raised an eyebrow. "I know there were a fair number of Celts that are involved with your fellows' little movement."

"Cuchulain, though not quite a Celt, has spearheaded the movement. Lugh has joined his son, as have several of their folk heroes. None of them are particularly keen on violence, though. Cuchulain is ready to bust some skulls open, but he is mindful of Christ's decree. I think he's a little bit more accepting of Christ than some of the others because his nation has managed to maintain faith in both the new God and the old. It makes it easier for him."

Hermes offered me a can of beer--it was the cheap stuff, fitting with his vibe of shabby nonchalance--and I accepted, because it was ice cold and I never turned down free booze. "So it's not a Celt, as far as you know. But it might be a Greek, though the likeliest suspect may or may not have been getting laid that night. How's Hephaestus taking his wife bangin' other dudes?"

The Messenger shrugged. "Same way he always has: bangin' other chicks. Not everyone finds him so very repulsive."

"Really?" I laughed. "Not something I would expect from him. I'd always thought that he was one of those fidelity types. Makes me like him a bit more, truth me told. And he wouldn't have done it? To get back at Ares?"

"No. He's not that stupid. Seriously, Ares is the dumbest of us all, and that's just because he tends to swing his sword first and ask questions later. But, even though I wouldn't put it past Ares to take down Baldur in some fit of pique, or simply to stop an all out war from happening--he's got a lot of Mars in him, too, and that's where his smarts come in, truth be told--but I am pretty sure he was otherwise occupied." Hermes leaned forward. "Talk is that it's someone a little closer to home."

"Yeah, I know." I sighed, running my hands through my hair. "I guess it's best to check out all options, though. Don't want whomever is guilty to point the finger at someone else because I didn't do my job."

Hermes raised an eyebrow. "You already know exactly who did it, don't you? This is just part of your mopping up exercises."

"Perhaps," I replied. "But I am a cautious bastard these days, and always want to check every instance before I make decisions. Plus, my life is on the line here. Gabriel would try to defend me, but Michael would consider it his personal duty to kill me even if everyone else thinks I'm guilty. He's crazy. Maybe now that it's clear it wasn't me..."

"Sounds a lot like Athena sometimes. I understand justice types. They're implacable." Hermes grinned. "Ask Medusa what justice types do to the innocent."

"No thanks. I'd rather not be made of stone at the end of the day."

"Suit yourself, Loki." Hermes laughed, slapping the table. "Don't worry. She's dead. Athena wears her face on her shield. So...asking Medusa anything is out of the question these days."

"Of course." I pushed myself away from the table. "I'm glad you were here to see me, Herms. If there's anything you find out, come to me. Do you know where Ares spends most of his time these days? And Athena, of course."

Hermes sat back in his chair. "Ares is usually at the local gym. He works as a personal trainer. If not, you'll find him at Aphrodite's place. It's the only house in God Town. Well, the only nice house. Athena...courthouse, library, or maybe the bar, but that depends on her day. If you wait until nightfall, she's at her own place. It's two blocks over, right on the edge of God Town. Kensington Place, the development is called. Third floor, building two A."

"Thanks, Hermes. I owe you for your help."

The Greek laughed and waved his hand, dismissing my thanks. "Please. I didn't tell you anything you didn't already know, Loki. I appreciate the company, nonetheless. Glad you chose me to be your mop."

"No problem, Herms. Anytime."