The Rise of Hel {Loki Laufeyson} Book Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

She cuts my hair, the strands falling to the floor and curling in on themselves in dead ringlets.

She cuts straight across, the scissors glinting in the sunlight that streams through the kitchen window.

Once she finishes, she styles my hair and gestures to the mirror. At first, I'm hesitant. What if I don't like it? What if it's too short for my liking?

I look up and stare at myself. It's long, but not too long. Wavy, not curly. Perfect.

It spills over my shoulders in waves of gold. I avert my eyes from my hair and look at myself. I haven't changed much in a few months. Same face as always - but different. My eyes burn scarlet.

My heart starts to panic and I lock eyes with my mother - only, she's not my mother. It's Hel.

She smiles widely, stroking my hair and twirling a strand in her fingers. "Relax. You look beautiful." She reassures me and for some reason, I calm myself.

I stand, turning and wrapping my arms around Hel. She embraces it, keeping the scissors in her pale hands as she reciprocates the gesture.

No. No, this is wrong!Get away from her! I scream in my mind but something in my heart is telling me to trust her.

Hel pulls away, still gripping the scissors. My stomach clenches. Something isn't right here.

Hel places a hand against my cheek and smiles warmly. I try to scream but nothing comes out.

Her eyes narrow and she jabs the scissors into my abdomen. Suddenly, my voice returning to my body again, the pain surging through me. I sink to my knees, my blood spilling out onto the carpet. "Mommy?" I find myself whispering. Then, I'm across the room, watching Hel. She turns to me and smiles deviously, laughing. The room around us falls away, the walls bleeding a dark red. Suddenly, she's in front of me and I'm surrounded by friends and family, their bodies black and their eyes shining.

She presses a knife to my throat and I gasp as she slashes and everyone around us laughs.

I cry out, waking with a jolt and sitting up. My head viciously pounds against the cage of my skull, my arm pulsing with pain and I crumble back down, choking on a scream.

I'm in a familiar bed, a familiar room with a familiar figure sitting at the edge of it. They turn, locking their gaze on me immediately. "It's okay. It's only me." Loki shifts closer, smiling sadly.

"Where am I?" My voice is slurred, groggy. He reaches out and I glare daggers at his arm as it touches my forehead and runs through my hair.

"You're in my bedroom."

"Oh no." I groan and look around, panic rising in my stomach. If Odin finds me here, he'll kill me for what I did during my last visit.

Loki frowns. "What? What's wrong?"

I sigh. "You know that I'm a fugi-"

"... a fugitive here, yes darling. I am aware of such. Trust me, you're safe here-" I hear thunderous footsteps nearing the door. Loki sighs, rolling his eyes. "Okay - maybe that last one was a lie..."

A luminous thud echoes through the room and someone bounds up the stairs to Loki's bed.

Thor.

His long blonde hair shines in the golden light of the room, his muscles veiny with anger as he flexes to appear intimidating. Loki just rolls his eyes, eyeing his brother as he mounts the golden stairway.