Help Wanted, Call Loki: The Loki Adventures, #7

By Dawn Blair

When the ultimate answer to life is not 42!

Loki listens to the conversations of Midgard and looks for people to help. But the god of mischief has spent many years on parole, serving his punishment to save humanity, and realizes he must make his own fun. Yet even that has become mundane and, dare he say, boring. 

Until he hears a lone woman sobbing with such a tortured soul that even he takes notice.

It could destroy the fabric of Midgard if left unchecked. That would mean the end of the world.

A stand-alone prequel to 1-800-CallLoki. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Morning Sky Studios
• Release date: Dec 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393529880

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

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Paroled to Midgard for a crime I may or may not have committed, my punishment while I’m here is to send transdimensional beings back to their home world. Though my powers have been hobbled, I still have many tricks up my sleeves. I am Loki of Asgard and these are my adventures.

Isit behind the wheel of my Rolls Royce Phantom with my cell phone beside me on the passenger seat as I ease to a stop at the red light. Then I pick the phone up, place it next to my ear , and listen.

The hum of a hundred conversations buzzes all at once. Most of them are just your average daily after work conversations: what shall we do for dinner, which bar shall we meet at, have you picked up the kids yet, how was your day at work, and the like. None immediately grab my attention.

This must be what a routine day at the office feels like, boring and mundane. Everything lately has seemed to become just that. Even sitting here in traffic. Where has the excitement in my days gone? Will anything shake this up? Perhaps I should change all the lights to green and watch the ensuing mayhem?

Ah, but that would be passing entertainment, maybe take an hour or so before the police restore order. I seek something more, longer lasting, as every rubbery chewing gum promises until it too quickly loses its flavor.

I stare at the guy in the red Honda in front of me. His rearview mirror is tilted just so that I can see one side of his darkened photo gray pilot glasses. Didn't those go out in the 80’s? It seems to match his short but curly red hair. His head does this twitchy little thing which indicates that he is rocking out to the tunes that he's playing.

I can't help myself. I flick my fingers and watch his head jerk as he turns to stare at the radio. I can't quite see him anymore, but I figure he is changing his radio station back.

A moment later, he is engrossed once more and rocking out to his music. I twitch my fingers again. The station changes.

The light ahead turns to green. I can’t help but to tap on my horn while I know he is distracted.

His hand emerges from the car and I fully expect him to give me the finger, but instead he waves at me. I almost feel bad. Almost. After all, I am Loki, Norse god of mischief. Being a pain in the proverbial arse is kind of what I do.

The year is 2010 by the calendar of this modern age, and I think that it’s nearly the perfect time in the whole history of Midgard to be alive.

I set my cell phone down beside me again so that I can drive down the road. I love my Phantom. The Rolls-Royce is, of course, this year's newest model. Just released. I have already snapped the Valkyrie hair to send the prior year's phantom to Thor in Asgard. I wonder if he's demolished it yet. It seems to be what he does. Such a shame.

It's a good thing I'm not trying to get anywhere because the light in front of me changes to red. I slow to a stop once more, pick up my cell phone for the second time, and begin to listen again. This is what I do. For all eternity.

Somewhere amid all of the conversations, I begin to hear a woman crying. Talk to me, I whisper into the mass of a hundred voices while aiming specifically for her. As all the other voices of Midgard die away, hers seems to come rushing to the front. I can't really understand what she is saying because she is crying so hard. Deep, wretched sobs which indicates of the hardest of losses. This kind of pain doesn't get transmitted over phone lines or between satellites, but rather is woven right into the fabric of Midgard. But why should this pain, her pain, be so transmuted that it would grab my attention when surely she is not the only one feeling this at the moment.

The answer comes quickly to me now: because the gods cry out with her.

Behind me, someone lays down on their horn and I realize I have failed to notice that the light ahead has changed. People are now waiting on me. Such is what the world is coming to that we never notice another person's pain.

But I noticed. I feel it with her and I want to cry out as well. Her pain is that deep. Oh what anguish she must be feeling. I must find her and quickly.

Unfortunately, driving requires my attention right now. I once again toss the cell phone into the passenger seat beside me and begin to drive down the road in the fast lane. It’s pretty much useless to try to use the center turn-out lane to go left in this section of town. Knowing I will do much better off to go to the light and turn, I proceed through traffic as quickly as I can. It's so strange how in one instance thirty miles an hour can seem so fast and in another, it can seem too slow.

I wish I could take a moment to push the speaker button on my phone, but I dare not let myself get distracted. I swear, voice-activated control is the next thing that I need to make sure gets incorporated into cell phones. I must remember to put my assistant, Edgar, onto that.

Instead of waiting, I flick my fingers yet again to make the traffic light change. I do try my best to keep it in the natural flow and rhythm of things. I'm not in that much of a hurry, but I do want to find a