Strange Nightmares

Strange Nightmares 4

Stephen went outside on the master bedroom's tiny balcony which looked over the newly minted city-state of Tvania. People milled around, completely unaware of the drama hovering over them. A few cooking fires crackled in front yards, racks of rabbit and chicken and vegetables roasting on them. Delicious smells wafted through the air, mixed with the scents of the lush forest.

He sighed and rested his elbows on the balcony. The village was real, he didn't need a spell to uncover that. Still, Loki had somehow convinced all these people to follow him. There had to be a lie or a trick in here somewhere. This was Loki he was dealing with, after all.

A sudden crash from downstairs broke the peaceful silence, followed by Sylvie's angry screams.

"You kept telling me one of them would help, Mobius! You promised me!"

Stephen ran out of the bedroom and down the stairs, but waited at the bottom, hidden from view, listening.

"Sylvie, I tried!"

"You didn't try hard enough!"

Her heavy boots stomped around the place like a pounding hammer, then a clatter, like silverware scattering on the floor. She and Loki must have certainly been a pair. He wondered what a lover's spat between them would look like.

"I know you're angry, but that's no excuse to lose your mind, okay? I'll have to find someone else."

"No one can do anything! I've been trying to take care of him this whole time and I cannot do it anymore!"

Another crash, brittle and sharp, like broken glass.

"Stop! Enough!" Mobius thundered, startling him. Stephen didn't think Mobius's voice could even get that loud.

The house was eerily quiet after that, and Stephen couldn't make out what they were whispering. All he could hear were Sylvie's hiccupping sobs.

"Shit," he muttered. This was real. He'd be a monster if he didn't--

He stopped that thought in its tracks. Loki meant something to them, and he was sick, but he was not innocent. He'd somehow cheated his own death, a death that had ripped Thor's heart out and left him depressed for years. He'd murdered in cold blood, without hesitation, with a smile on his face, tried to force humanity to kneel to his will. Stephen couldn't forget watching the chilling footage from SHIELD's archives, of Loki taunting Black Widow like a sadistic maniac. He was no America Chavez. He wasn't even a Wanda Maximoff.

Stephen walked around the corner and into the kitchen, trying not to betray any emotion on his face. Broken china dishes and silverware littered the peeling linoleum floor. Mobius held a crying Sylvie in his arms, who straightened and scowled the second she caught sight of Stephen. She fiercely broke away from Mobius, head down, glaring like a lioness bent on killing her prey.

"You!" she growled.

Stephen prepared a spell with a golden glow of magical energy, every muscle taught and ready to fight.

"Sylvie!" hissed Mobius. She paused, breathing heavily, then stamped her foot with a frustrated scream, a shuddering vibration of angry magic emanating from her like a tiny earthquake. The house shook so violently for a moment that a bit of plaster fell from the ceiling.

Mobius let out another sigh, then took the tempad out of his pocket.

"I'll take you home, I guess," he mumbled, pressing buttons on the tempad.

"No," said Sylvie, a crazed look in those unnerving green eyes of hers. She crossed Stephen to stand in front of Mobius. "Don't let him leave. We kidnap him, that's what we do. We force him to help. He can't leave without you, right?"