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    1-800-CallLoki (The Loki Adventures Omnibus): The Loki Adventures
    1-800-CallLoki (The Loki Adventures Omnibus): The Loki Adventures
    1-800-CallLoki (The Loki Adventures Omnibus): The Loki Adventures
    Ebook352 pages7 hours

    1-800-CallLoki (The Loki Adventures Omnibus): The Loki Adventures

    By Dawn Blair

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    About this ebook

    Readers demanded the full story. All right, already! Here it is. Just remember, you were warned. 

     

    I, Loki, Norse god of mischief, was paroled to earth for a crime I swear I didn't comment. Of course, who would ever believe me, the Trickster? Odin, the All-Father, has charged me with protecting the humans of Midgard from unfriendly, trans-dimensional beings, as if that were a small task. Humans need more help than I can provide! Fine, I'll try. Maybe. Just don't be surprised when I roll my eyes. 

    Where should I begin? Oh, probably where every good story begins: with a girl. She walked along, her hair the color of a Valkyrie's and long legs tucked into stylish boots. How could she not attract my attention? But this isn't some urban fantasy romance novel. No, her guile would lead me to discovering a much larger plot against me. Someone wants me dead.  

    Now there's a cause for mischief. Let's play.  

    This book combines the first 5 stories in The Loki Adventures for the complete story arc experience. Included are: 
     1-800-Mischief 
    For Sale, Call Loki 
    For a Good Time, Call Loki 
    For More Information, Call Loki 
    For More Mischief, Call Loki 

    And the stories keep going, but that's all you're going to get in this box set! 

    If you like quick, fun, and imaginative reads, then you'll love being entertained by Loki and his adventures.  

    Buy 1-800-CallLoki and get into some mischief. 

     

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMorning Sky Studios
    Release dateAug 13, 2017
    ISBN9781386171638
    1-800-CallLoki (The Loki Adventures Omnibus): The Loki Adventures
    Author

    Dawn Blair

    Come take an adventure with your multi-dimensional, time-traveling tour guide, Dawn Blair. Telling stories of noble hearts and fantastic places, Dawn enjoys creating stories full of action, fantasy, quests, and maybe a touch of technology.  For as long as she can remember, she's been telling stories, starting with tales of cats and dogs. No one ever dared to ask her to "imagine" something because it would send her creativity spinning. One fateful day, her grandmother, certainly tired of listening to the endless prater, sat Dawn down at a typewriter and told her to write the story out.  Growing up on a ranch in rural Nevada, she had plenty of time and space to let her imagination roam free. When she wasn't out playing or working in the alfalfa fields or swimming at the pool, she was at home typing away at her novels.  Dawn moved to Idaho and, after a second fateful day where an instructor taught her to see as an artist, her life expanded to include other creative endeavors: painting, illustrating, animating, and photography in addition to writing. They all became mediums for the way she could share stories. Soon, she had won numerous awards for writing, painting, and photography, as well as gaining readers and collectors worldwide. All while raising her two fantastic boys as a single mom.  Dawn decided to start recording audiobooks. Knowing nothing about the process, she began learning and transformed a simple home setup into a home studio, a sequence marked by a third fateful day in her life when she decided to quit dabbling and get serious. Dawn aims for improving her audio with each narrative tale she completes. Still in Idaho, Dawn spends every moment she can exploring strange worlds, seeking out brave lives and magical civilizations. She wants to touch your life with magic, open your mind, and make sure you will never be the same again. Let her show you the sights. Let's be on our way, shall we? Sign up for your adventures at: www.dawnblair.com

    Read more from Dawn Blair

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      Book preview

      1-800-CallLoki (The Loki Adventures Omnibus) - Dawn Blair

      1-800-CallLoki

      1-800-CALLLOKI

      THE LOKI ADVENTURES OMNIBUS

      DAWN BLAIR

      Morning Sky Studios

      Copyright © 2013, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018 by Dawn Blair

      All rights reserved.

      No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

      The story and characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, persons (living or dead), or locales is purely coincidental.

      Cover and layout copyright © 2018 by Morning Sky Studios

      Cover design by Dawn Blair/Morning Sky Studios

      Cover art copyright © Jeske5 | Dreamstime

      Interior novella cover art copyright © Dawn Blair

      CONTENTS

      1-800-Mischief

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      For Sale, Call Loki

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      For a Good Time, Call Loki

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      For More Information, Call Loki

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      For More Mischief, Call Loki

      Mythology 101

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 22

      The Loki Adventures continue…

      Also by Dawn Blair:

      Ready for another quest?

      About the Author

      To my Ataraxis friends.

      Ataraxis: A Greek word meaning Peace of mind.

      CHAPTER 1

      Your cell phone… I live like a millionaire thanks to it and that annoying little contract which always costs you more than you think it will. It doesn’t matter which carrier you’re with. They really are all the same for they are owned by one person: me! So, go on, love your cell phone, text away, check your Facebook posts, tweet more, and cry, cry, cry over your bill.

      I know you can’t live without it.

      Complain all you want, but you’ll renew your contract, you always do. We both know it.

      Now that the truth is out, you can stop hating me or start. Whichever, it makes no difference to me. After all, the trick’s on you!

      But without cell phones it is a lot harder to know who needs my help.

      I am Loki of Asgard, Norse god of mischief, and I am charged with aiding the humans of Midgard against unfriendly transdimensional beings. It is that mission which has brought me to the college campus today.

      I watch the pretty blond approach as she talks on her phone. With her school books tucked in the crook of her arm, she fights with adjusting her little black purse while holding the phone between her ear and her shoulder.

      Really? I thought every college student had their textbooks on their iPads these days.

      She is wearing a denim jacket over a red tee shirt tucked into her blue jeans. She’s slim, slender legs that fit nicely into her black fringe boots. They make her feet look dainty. The color of her hair, pulled back into a ponytail, reminds me of the Valkyries of Valhalla. Loosen the hair, give her a winged helm on her head, a broadsword at her side, the north winds beneath her feet and she would easily transform into one of Odin’s warrior maidens. I wonder if she is a fallen Valkyrie. Of course, if she were, she wouldn’t need my help.

      No, Mom, I hear her say. Look, coming to stay at your place for the weekend isn’t going to make things better. It might just make them worse. I know already. I know! God, you just don’t understand. Look, Mom, I’ve gotta go. Yes, class. Love you.

      She hangs up right as I step in front of her. Her armful of notes and books go scattering over the campus sidewalk.

      Oh, I am so sorry, she says as she bends to gather her items. I stand there watching. I guess walking and talking is about as smart as talking on your phone while driving. Are you okay?

      Or texting when you should have both hands on the wheel, I reply dryly as I take a superficial glance around. There’s something about today. Maybe it’s the warm spring sun on my skin. After the freezing, blustery winter, to see things starting to grow under the melting snow is refreshing. Whatever it is, I’m certainly in a good mood and it feels peculiar and strange.

      She glances up at me. Her eyes are blue like a Valkyrie’s. At first, they are confused. Then when the fear enters them, I know what I’d been hearing is true.

      I really am so sorry, she says again, still kneeling before me. Her hands tremble as she reaches for her belongings. I should have been watching where I was going. She is starting to rush now.

      I want to rewind the previous moment before she’d become scared, loop it in eternity. I hate the one who had made her into this simpering woman before me. She definitely is not a reborn Valkyrie. I kneel down. Forgive me, I have forgotten my manners.

      She snatches her books before I could grab them. No, really, it’s okay. I can get it.

      To think, there are gods and demi-gods who dare to call me a monster! Oh, yes, Loki’s a bad one and not to be trusted. Silver-tongued devil he is. A criminal passed on to earth to serve his parole. But if they had to come down here and see this, maybe their thinking would change.

      I am sure you are plenty capable, but sometimes it doesn’t hurt to let people help you clean up the mess you’re in, I say.

      She looks up and her icy blue eyes meet with mine. She has ancient bloodlines, I feel it. It is almost as if I can hear Freya screaming a war cry that would ignite this woman’s blood. With all of my heart I want her to possess the strength that I knew in the females of Asgard. Would this silent communication be all that was needed to help her? I had to know, to be sure.

      Talk to me, I whisper.

      She draws back. Fear almost breaks the charm spell. I refocus my energy into making her relax. It’s okay. Sometimes words help to hold the enchantment.

      He hits me, she answers, glancing down at her arm.

      I reach two fingers up, though I didn’t really need to even physically touch her, and slide back the loose sleeve of her denim jacket to reveal the bruises beneath.

      Who did this? Show me in your mind? I say. Her thoughts jump to her boyfriend and I see the very image I need, not one of a man, but of a Minotaur. No wonder he is so violent. With a flick of my wrist, I present her with my card. After she’d seen it, I tuck it into her college book. If you see him again, call me right away. If you do, the mess will be cleaned up and you can live a happy life.

      I glance away, breaking the charm spell. You better get a move on. You wouldn’t want to be late for class.

      Yes, I’m late. Freya’s war cry has drowned under this woman’s fear. She jumps to her feet and runs down the sidewalk lined with evergreen trees for the two-story brick building.

      I turn on the sidewalk, listening to the grating of my Salvatore Ferragamo oxford leather shoes on the cement, and start to walk toward the parking lot.

      It is now a race against time. I know the Minotaur and he will soon know me. She has my calling card. Let the games begin.

      CHAPTER 2

      First comes the call. Second comes the information gathering. Third comes Loki barging down the door.

      I laugh at my own little joke as I walk through the college parking lot. I like to think that’s how the sequence always works. Unfortunately, it rarely does. You see, those coming to this dimension usually want to stay. Imagine the audacity!

      Still, it helps me get focused on the simplicity. Why make this harder than it should be?

      I pull out my cell phone, a smartphone of course and way more sophisticated than one you could ever think of getting, and call up the information I need. Within moments, I have the exact information I’m looking for. One has got to admire the genius of Google. They weren’t even gods when they got the idea, though they will be when I get my full powers back.

      But there is something nagging at the back of my head, like Odin’s ravens pecking away at something I should be remembering. What could I possibly be overlooking?

      Nothing. Loki overlooks nothing! I plan from beginning to end, taking into account every possible scenario. It’s who I am, it’s how I work.

      Then why do Huginn and Muninn haunt me. I look up, expecting to see the ravens circling me now. Well, they aren’t flying, but they certainly are looking down on me from the skeletal branches of leafless trees where they sit. It reminds me of the day the All-Father sat on his throne and cast me out with his easy judgment. Certainly, I promise that if things happened as the witnesses claimed it had then yes, I might have deserved it. Problem was that I hadn’t actually done it this time. For once, I was innocent.

      Then I feel the missing notion like a ghostly hand reaching across the realms. I know I have been touched by something powerful as I read the thought sent from the Yggdrasill Tree and I nearly slap my head. Yes, brilliant, why had I not remembered that piece of information?

      Minotaurs are assassins. Reading the mythology, it seems like there is only one Minotaur, but the truth is that Minotaur is the name of their race. They were brought here much in the way African slaves were brought to America and the aftereffects very similar too. It used to be that reparative sacrifices were sent to the Minotaurs in their labyrinths. An easy way to off the children of families not very well liked by those in power. Now, the Minotaurs are hired out and sent after their prey. I mean, gee, how many centuries did it take for the humans to realize, Hey, if we don’t send our children in the labyrinth, they won’t die?

      But I digress. The point is: if a Minotaur is here and his prey chosen, then he’s obviously set to work of slowly destroying his prey and the initiator must be somewhere nearby, watching.

      I wonder if that person is supposed to be here in Midgard. Why and who would want an ordinary human dead by the hands of a Minotaur? I can only think of a handful of suspects: a jealous goddess, a vain sorcerer queen, or a spurned half-god. All three possibilities are always a joy to work with, let me tell you.

      Well, if I am going to be searching for a Minotaur assassin and the purse-strings behind the beast, I better take a moment to gather my thoughts. Yes, it is time for a little peace of mind.

      Back in the day, I would just flip my cloak and I’d teleport where ever I wanted to be. But Odin wanted to make sure I stayed in Midgard and did what he wanted me to do. Keep the rabid dog on a short leash, make sure he stays in his cage and out of trouble.

      Again, I’ve let myself drift. Besides, it’s really not as bad as I make it out to be, this lack of teleporting. I run my fingers gently over the smooth gray body of my little imported automobile. Freshly waxed and sparkling like a gem, my Rolls Royce Phantom seems ready to break out of the parking spot before I even slide into the car behind the leather steering wheel. Thor once told me I was better suited to an AMC Gremlin, so I make sure that every year when I upgrade to the newest model, I send the prior year’s Phantom to him with a big ribbon on it.

      As the engine purrs to life, Two Steps from Hell pours sweetly out of the radio with their song Norwegian Pirate. Wouldn’t a Norwegian pirate be a Viking? I enjoy the way the beginning of the song sounds like a race on a space age track; it gets my own engine revving for the hunt. I shift the car into reverse, loving the feel of the mechanics gliding as I clutch, break, and change gears. Humans, they did get this power thing right with their automobiles.

      Within moments, I’m out of the college campus and back in traffic.

      Street lights… ah, what fun! You know how you’re driving along and one goes greeeeen, yellow, RED! Ha ha! Teleporting might be a no-no, but tinkering with and manipulating human inventions is not off my benefits list.

      With barely a thought, I get my lane moving ahead of me so I won’t have to slow down. A car oncoming the perpendicular intersection screeches to a halt at the sudden change in signals. As I sail through the intersection I swear I can hear him shouting into his cell phone that the light didn’t even turn yellow. He might be right. But I am on the trail of a Minotaur. There is no time to waste. It’s best to keep traffic flowing in my direction.

      I turn down a side street off the main drag and go down about two blocks into a charming residential area. Quaint cottage style houses with little white picket fences line the street. Not to mention the planter boxes waiting for spring flowers and lace curtains in nearly every window. The very part of me which could easily blend into this human world is repulsed. I want to flee. But the god in me knows, understands.

      The trickster in me, however, wants to make this sickly sweet and too-good-to-be-true neighborhood the site of a meteor impact.

      Now is not the time to be laughing at my own plotted jokes. Someday though, I promise it will be done.

      CHAPTER 3

      Ienter an alleyway not easily seen from the road. Any humans that do happen to stumble into this stomach-churning, saccharine illusion of the perfect American life usually don’t find their way down this far. From here, I have to park my Phantom and get out and walk. There are no other cars here, of course, because the other gods, demi-gods, and magical beings just pop right in. As I exit the car, I morph back to my fantastic black and gold clothes. It won’t do to have someone thinking that I’m just average, but wealthy, Joe Human stumbling down the alley.

      I smooth the front edges of my wool cloak where Runes once use to run down the length of it. It had been a gift from Frigga, Odin’s wife. Over the years, I’d watched the magical Runes fade away. They’d been gone for several centuries now, but the ever-growing sadness remains in my heart. I miss Asgard. I miss seeing Jotunheim and Muspielheim. I even miss Svartheim, homeland of the dwarves. Someday, hopefully soon, I will be allowed to return to Asgard.

      With a wave of my hand, my simple scepter appears in my hand. I count myself fortunate. The scepter is metal, has a good weight in my palm, comfortable. It is mostly black, but then turns to silver as it works its way up and finishes in golden swirls. In the tip is a small globe which more resembles a fat oval and is actually a piece of white ice, a small frozen remain of my birthland, Jotunheim. Long ago, I had a grander scepter with a much larger piece. The All-Father allowed me to keep this one in my banishment. What an old fool!

      I walk to a shanty halfway down the alley. It looks like someone’s old and neglected garage, small and worn out, abandoned, unpainted, and even having the illusion of broken windows. An old sign hangs from a rusty rod. It reads, Ataraxis Tavern. As I arrive at the door, a satyr fairy buzzes out of its nest above the security light.

      Hey, you think you can just walk right in there? the fairy screams at me. A human would hear his voice as a threatening buzz like a wasp, but I hear him clearly.

      I wouldn’t dream of going by without giving you your due, reindeer legs, I say as I pull a coin from my pocket. Yes, even gods have pockets. I flip the beautiful, shiny, gold coin around in my fingers, letting it sparkle under the single florescent light. Well, it looks golden and that’s what matters to the satyr fairy. He flutters down to my hand all nice and wide-eyed.

      That’s when I drop the coin.

      Whoops! Clumsy me, I say with mock surprise as I hide my sarcastic smile behind the upturned collar of my cloak.

      The fairy is still entranced by the coin and mutters something as it dives. Just before it reaches the fancy dollar, I twitch my fingers and the coin stands up on its side. The fairy looks momentarily startled. I flick my finger and the coin starts to roll down the pebbly alley. It swerves to miss rocks that would ordinarily knock it over. The fairy goes bursting after the coin.

      Rocking back on my heels, I turn with a smile and open the door.

      Ultra-fast techno dance music blazes like a sonic boom in my ears. Wow, so this is what the Greek gods are listening to these days. Give me epic soundtracks any day, music that heats my blood and makes me want to surge into battle.

      Great! Now I’m sounding like Thor.

      Disco lights circle around on the blue and white tiles of the floor and the sky-colored walls. In the center of the tavern is a rectangular bar with several empty stools around it. Beyond that is a larger area set up with tables and booths. A dance floor seems to cover everything in-between. Curtains draping the windows block out most of the afternoon sun, giving it the pseudo effect of night in here. Fortunately it takes very little for my eyes to adjust to the odd simulated light.

      A siren sways her way up to me carrying a corkboard tray with a couple glasses of water and a pitcher. Hi, hon. Will that be a table for one? she asks me in that lilting way that would drive mortal men insane. Of course, that was back in the days of old when humans adventured seeking glory and treasure. Now, with humans caring only for the latest sports game on their wide screen, flat panel televisions and their next round of beer, our poor beautiful, brown-eyed, brunette siren is reduced to waitressing. In some ways, she put herself out of her original job. After all, she was the one drowning the adventuresome saps while lazy cowards remained at home to breed. It was merely Darwin’s Theory of Evolution and natural selection in action.

      I’ll start that way, I reply, already scoping out the tavern for the usual suspects. I’m sure it won’t stay that way for long.

      She looks me over in that lustful way sirens do and murmurs a positive response. Whatever. On the other hand, it might do good to make a mental note of her being here for the future. A banished god’s nights do get lonely.

      Nah… I shred that mental note. Greek sirens are not worth the trouble. It never ends well.

      She leads the way to a table situated in the dark against the back wall. Of course, it doesn’t look good with a Norse god in a Greek establishment. Wouldn’t humans be glad to know segregation is still alive and well in the land of the gods too?

      Can I take that table over there? I ask, trying to sound as sweet and charming as I could. The taste of snake venom invades my mouth and I cringe from the sour it leaves there as another condition of my banishment. Remember ‘I must not tell lies,’ burned onto the back of Harry Potter’s hand. Well, this putrid sensation is the Loki’s punishment version, except I get it whenever I charm with the intent to deceive. Every now and again, I think the enchantment fires off just to remind me that it can. I grab a glass of water off the tray she carries and down it before she utters a word. I wish I could say it helped.

      I suppose we can do that, she says, starting for the other table. After all, you did say that you wanted others to join you.

      I don’t correct her wrong assumption. Let her infer what she will from my words. What’s the bartender’s best drink?

      She had started to put down a menu but stops and folds her arms over it against her chest. Oh, that would be the Cold Sparkling Firework Belly-Flop.

      I’ll start with that and see where the evening takes me from there.

      Sounds great, hon. I’ll be right back with it. She gives a wink and a snap of her gum as she twists back around and heads toward the bar, weaving between the jumping and shaking bodies of several dancers who look like they’d had the Firework Belly-Flop themselves.

      I feel uncomfortable and it takes me a moment to figure out why. I was use to attending civilized parties thrown by wealthy humans. Here on Midgard, my presence is expected and sought after. I’d stroll in, let myself be known as best as any human could perceive me, then I’d leave back to my solitude. But here, it is no different than a meeting of the gods on Asgard with the wild thrashings and the loudness of it all except for the fact that we’d always had splendid Asgardian parties after great battles. Festivities like this were for working off the excess energy in the warriors’ blood after the preceding fight.

      I tap my foot against the floor as my fingers drum on the table. I begin to wonder when I will receive back the calling card. I also wonder if the satyr fairy had caught the golden coin. If he has, does he realize yet that it is a human dollar and worthless to him save for it being a shiny object? I might have to watch for a pissed-off fairy dust trap as I leave.

      The techno music fills me with a need for a fight. Not the music itself, but the bravery it instills, the need for rejoicing after victory! To fight and live to fight another day.

      I really am starting to sound like Thor.

      The siren returns with my drink and sets it atop a marble patterned napkin on the polished table. Just call, hon, when you’re ready for another one.

      I pick up the clear goblet and swirl the blue liquid. Inside the glass, little fireworks go off, but instead of gravity pulling the raining ends of the firework down toward the bottom, they rise to the surface and snap as they pop and sparkle out of the fluid. It really is like watching fireworks from beneath them, except I am watching them from above. A human’s perspective from the god’s view. How very quaint and interesting.

      I sip of the fine, succulent berry wine and find it enjoyable. I might even be tempted to order up a bottle to take home with me. An elegant change from the hard meads Frey generally brings me. I try to imagine Thor drinking this and instantly imagine the satyr fairy doing leaps and pirouettes while it chases the coin. This is definitely a drink far too refined for Thor’s taste buds. Mine are attuned. I might be thinking myself similar to Thor, but I’m not becoming him. Yet maybe if I had been more like him, I wouldn’t be here now.

      Which rounds me back to my current mission: find out who had sent the Minotaur after the human and for what reason.

      That’s when I find out why the drink is called a Belly-Flop.

      CHAPTER 4

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