Thor's Serpents, page 8
Shielding his eyes was tougher. He walked outside with his hand in front of his face, trying to wave the smoke back. He looked ridiculous, but there was no one in sight. No one he could hear, either—he realized that when he strained for voices, hoping to find someone he could ask about the fire.
Smoke. Darkness. Silence.
Whatever was happening, this was the creepiest thing he’d ever experienced. Even creepier than the bone beach in Hel. All he could see was smoke, and it was like he was all alone on the street moving through fog, lost in the swirling.
Where were the fire truck sirens? The alarms?
As if conjuring one up, he heard the faint wail of a siren. It grew louder and louder and then…
Silence.
Matt stopped short. Baldwin did, too, whispering, “What just happened?”
I don’t want to know.
But I have to know, don’t I? That’s why I’m out here. Thor’s champion and all that.
He took a deep breath and turned in the direction he’d heard the siren. As they walked, a shape swerved in front of them so fast that Matt barely had time to lift Mjölnir. He saw the thing coming for them, huge and dark, whining as it bore down on them, and he threw Mjölnir the second he was certain it was too big to be a person. As soon as the hammer left his hand, he saw his mistake. It was a truck. Mjölnir slammed into the grille, metal crunching, the front end crumpling inward as the hammer seemed to drive right through the engine. The truck stopped dead… and Mjölnir flew back into his hand.
For a moment, the truck just sat there, smoke wrapping around it, the headlights glowing and then dimming as the smoke whirled past.
“It looks like there’s no one driving,” Baldwin whispered. “Maybe it’s a ghost truck.”
The door opened, and Baldwin jumped back. Matt had to steel himself not to do the same. They couldn’t see anything. Then a woman stepped through the smoke, squinting, with her forearm over her mouth. Spotting them, she gasped.
“What are you—?” Her gaze dropped to Mjölnir. “Where did you get that? Did you steal—” She took a slow step back. “I don’t have anything. I had to leave my purse at the office when we evacuated. All I had were my keys.”
It took a moment for Matt to realize she thought they were going to rob her. That they’d wrecked her truck on purpose and now wanted her wallet.
“Um, we’re here to help,” Baldwin said. “We’re trying to save—”
The woman turned and ran. Baldwin raced past Matt, calling after her, but Matt grabbed his shirt and held him back.
“Grown-ups,” Baldwin said. “I’m not even a teenager yet, and they already think the worst of me. Do I look suspicious?”
Matt could not imagine any kid who looked less suspicious than Baldwin. But it was true. You hit a certain age and grown-ups started looking at you funny, like you were two seconds from slashing their tires for kicks.
When another car zoomed up, they heard it coming and got to the side of the road in time. Baldwin waved his arms and hollered for the car to stop, but it sped past. The next one honked. The pickup behind it slowed just enough to yell at them to get off the streets, but roared away before they could ask what was happening.
“At least there are people,” Baldwin said. “I was starting to wonder.”
There were still no sirens, though. Not since that one that had been cut short. As they walked in that direction, they passed through the pocket of fleeing people and went right back into the silent gray emptiness. Except it wasn’t completely silent. Matt could hear an odd scraping noise, like a fan with one blade catching.
As Matt followed the sound, the smoke got thicker, until his eyes were streaming tears again and he had to blink nonstop to see, though he wasn’t sure why he bothered. All he could see was smoke. He could hear that weird scraping sound, like it was right in front of them and then—
He bashed into something huge and red.
“Is that…?” Baldwin whispered.
Matt ran his hands over the thing—a massive red metal box that disappeared into the smoke. When he walked farther, something tapped against his head. He reached up and felt a thick rope of canvas. He pulled it down to get a better look.
A metal nozzle hit him in the face.
As he staggered back, his hands flew up and his Hammer power launched in a rush of wind that scattered the smoke.
“It’s a fire truck,” Baldwin whispered.
It was indeed a fire truck. Upside-down in the middle of the road. That sound he’d heard was one of the tires still turning, catching on the crumpled fender.
Matt walked along the truck, casting his Hammer power, surprised that it was actually working. Fear was what fueled it. And that’s what he felt, however hard he tried to hide it for Baldwin’s sake.
He kept using the Hammer to clear the smoke as he ran to the driver’s door. The safety glass was smashed out and it crunched under his sneakers, but when he looked inside, the seats were empty. He exhaled in relief.
Baldwin swallowed. “What could do this? I mean, it’s flipped right over, as if…”
Matt looked at the truck again. There were huge dents in the side. Dents where the metal almost seemed melted, the red paint dripping like blood.
What could do this? Oh, Matt had a pretty good idea, and as soon as he thought it, his amulet vibrated.
“Better late than never,” he muttered as he gripped it.
“Monster alert?” Baldwin whispered.
“Yeah. I think I know what—”
The ground shook. Someone screamed. Then came a roar, like the roar of fire itself, but so loud that Matt slapped his hands over his ears, wincing.
“Matt…?” Baldwin tapped his shoulder with a trembling finger.
Before Matt could turn, a wave of heat hit him. He gasped, and it was like sucking in fire, scorching his lungs and sending him reeling back. Baldwin grabbed and steadied him, and they both turned toward the source of the heat. Turned… and looked up.
It was a fire giant. A Jotunn, like they’d met in Hel. Except this one didn’t have two heads, which would be a relief except… well, that other Jotunn had breathed smoke and carried a flaming sword and its hair had been on fire. This one? It was fire. A fifty-foot-tall human-shaped torch.
“That…” Baldwin whispered, his eyes round. “That’s what you guys fought when you came for me?”
No, that’s what we escaped from. We hadn’t dared fight it. And it was nothing like this.…
“There was… less fire,” Matt said.
Understatement of the century.
NINE
FEN
“VISITS FROM THE WRONG THORSEN”
As Fen watched the Raiders set up their new campsite at the edge of the Badlands, he felt almost like things hadn’t changed. He was living rough, traveling with kids with unusual powers, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to face whatever fight would inevitably come next. The difference was that these kids were watching him—not Matt or Owen—for instruction. The Raiders were counting on him… and instead of liking it, he wished he had Matt there for advice on how to handle it, especially when he saw Matt’s grandfather Mayor Thorsen walking through the Raiders’ camp toward him.
Fen never liked any of the Thorsens, not until he and Matt had fought against a few trolls and assorted monsters together. Liking that Thorsen didn’t do a thing to change Fen’s opinion of the rest of them. It went both ways. Neither family liked the other. They saw everything differently—except Ragnarök, apparently. Mayor Thorsen was commanding a bunch of Brekkes to do his dirty work, while Fen had been on the side of Matt Thorsen. This apocalypse business was confusing everything.
But Fen was still steadfast in his anti-Thorsen stance. He’d met another Thorsen, who shot Matt with a tranquilizer dart and threatened Laurie, and now he was standing in the woods with the chief of the redheaded clan. Mayor Thorsen was all the proof anyone would need that most Thorsens were not to be trusted.
“I’m glad you saw sense, young man,” the mayor said. “Skull said he could talk to you so we could get you to your rightful place, and here you are.”
“Skull cornered me, threatened my friends, and forced me to fight him.” Fen glared at the old man. “That’s not talking to me.”
Around them, wolves patrolled and watched. Fen wasn’t sure what the Raiders could hear, but he didn’t care, either. Part of helping the pack was to let them understand that they were on the wrong side of the upcoming battle. They should already know that trusting Mayor Thorsen was a bad idea, but clearly that fact was somehow escaping them.
“Details don’t matter,” the mayor said magnanimously. “The point, son, is that you’re here now. Loki’s champion, ready to lead the monsters into the great battle.”
“My cousin is Loki’s champion,” Fen argued, before he realized that he could be endangering her.
“No, son, you both are,” the mayor said in a voice that sounded like he was talking to a small child. “The girl is on the other side. You lead the monsters. Loki was a trickster, a many-sided god, which means that for this fight, his descendants will fight on both sides.”
Fen stared at the man, feeling like pieces were clicking into place. It wasn’t that the Norns were pointing at him or Laurie when they directed Matt to Loki’s champion. It was both of them. It made sense in a weird way, but it didn’t help. He’d rather be no champion at all than be the champion for the villains.
“I won’t hurt Laurie,” Fen pointed out, staring directly at the mayor as he said it. “I’m bound to do what’s best for the pack, but there’s no way that hurting her or Matt is what the pack needs.”
The mayor laughed. “Of course you won’t! That’s not your role. Matty fights the serpent, and she’ll fight her own foes. You’re not as familiar with the myths as you should be, are you?”
Fen stared at him, not understanding how he could be so calm discussing his grandson’s probable death. “The myths aren’t set in stone. If they were, we wouldn’t have been able to bring Baldwin back,” Fen pointed out.
“So you had an EpiPen? Gave him CPR? That doesn’t mean—”
“No,” Fen interrupted. “We went to Hel.”
“Poppycock!”
Fen shrugged and continued, “We met my aunt there. You know, the one who rules the afterlife? We rescued him from death. We brought him back. Me, Laurie, and Matt.”
The mayor stared at him for a minute. “What have you done?”
“Changed fate,” Fen said firmly. “We can do it. Matt doesn’t have to die. None of this has to happen.”
For a brief moment he thought he’d reached the mayor. He thought he’d gotten through to the man, and he hoped that they’d finally have an adult on their side. It was scary trying to save the world. They’d been doing it, but it was frustrating that none of the adults understood. It was like they couldn’t believe, couldn’t hope. If that was what it meant to be a grown-up, Fen was glad he was still a kid.
“No,” the mayor said. That was it, just no. He shook his head, and Fen could see that he wasn’t going to listen.
He tried another approach. “But you want to save him, right? Why would you help save Matt when the house fell into the ground if you want him to die? There are other choices. Maybe we can all sit down and t—”
“No,” the mayor repeated. “My grandson needs to be strong and ready for his fight against the Midgard Serpent. I helped because he can’t die before the final fight.”
Any hope that Mayor Thorsen could be wavering on his path stopped then. He wouldn’t alter his plan to sacrifice Matt. Fen filled with so much anger that his voice was shaky as he said, “So you want him strong before he… dies?”
“Yes,” the mayor said.
“Did it ever occur to you that Matt might win?” Fen asked. “That maybe we could work together and stop the end of the world? You could help him. He’s your grandson, and he’s Thor’s champion.”
The mayor sighed. “Kids! You just don’t understand. You can’t stop fate. We can’t avert Ragnarök!” He raised his voice and looked around at the Raiders. “This is the start of a new era. After the fight, we will be rulers of a new world. Wolves can roam free. We’ll build a new world… one fit for gods. One fit for us.”
The Raiders were obviously listening. They stopped whatever they had been doing and watched the old man. It was creepy the way they smiled at him and nodded as if he were sane. He wasn’t. He might look sane, but he was spouting the kind of theories that only lunatics embraced.
“The blood of gods runs in our veins,” the mayor continued. “We’ll be the rulers of the new world.”
“And sacrificing family members for this… perfect world of yours is okay with you?” Fen asked quietly.
The mayor met Fen’s gaze unflinchingly. “Of course I don’t want to sacrifice him, but Matt will die a hero’s death and go to Valhalla, the afterworld for the strong and brave. He’ll be happy there.”
“Matt would be happier alive,” Fen pointed out.
“That’s not your concern, Fenrir. Your role is to lead our monsters into the battle. These fine young wolves and the creatures that will rise…” The mayor paused and grinned, looking like he was talking about some parade or whatever in Blackwell, not the end of the world and billions of deaths. Then he met Fen’s eyes again. “You’ll be at the front of our forces when the battle starts.”
The Raiders were all watching them attentively, and for a moment, Fen was okay being their alpha. Being in charge meant putting their needs first. Regardless of what roles fate had planned for any of them, Fen had a responsibility to the wulfenkind watching him right now. He wasn’t going to blindly follow anyone’s plans. It wasn’t about whether or not he’d die. He’d rushed into danger repeatedly, but he’d done it because the younger Thorsen’s plans were sane and logical. There were things worth the risk—saving the world was one of them.
“You’re going to need more than this to convince me that supporting your plans is what’s best for the Raiders,” Fen said in a voice intended to carry.
The mayor folded his arms and looked at Fen from the bottom of his ragged shoes to the top of his shaggy hair before saying, “Fate, my boy. The Champion of Loki leads the monsters. If you don’t do your job, I’ll wipe out the lot of these ragamuffins and your cousin, too.” He smiled in a friendly sort of way, as if he hadn’t just threatened everyone Fen knew. He was—like most Thorsens—not concerned about the Brekkes. Fen had seen the flash of worry on the mayor’s face when Matt’s death was mentioned. He obviously cared about his family. That didn’t mean he cared about Brekkes.
“Brekkes don’t have a history of obeying Thorsens,” Fen pointed out, thinking of all his family members who ended up in trouble. The Thorsens were the law, and the Brekkes broke the law. That was a fact.
The mayor merely said, “You will do your part, just as Matty will.”
Without another word, the old man turned and walked away, leaving Fen with a crowd of wulfenkind who were watching him attentively. Leadership is hard, Fen thought. He looked around at the kids. Fear was obvious on more than a few faces. He knew only one thing to say that might help them understand his stance.
“Even if I weren’t bound by wulfenkind law, I wouldn’t let anyone hurt my cousin. You all know that I’ve paid Laurie’s dues for years. I don’t let down the people I’m sworn to protect. I’ll do what I have to do to keep you safe just like I have with her. I’m going to find a way to protect all of us.” He tried to keep from yelling at them for ever trusting a Thorsen.… Well, trusting one who wasn’t Matt. As calmly as he was able, Fen added, “Following Thorsens isn’t a great idea for Brekkes, and following that Thorsen really, really isn’t.”
He didn’t wait to see what they all thought. Instead, he went straight to Skull’s tent, which had been the first one Fen had ordered erected. He needed to see how his recovery was going, and if possible, learn some information from him. Skull had been the alpha since this pack was formed. He was the oldest and strongest kid there, and no one would have challenged him for leadership. That meant he knew everything about the pack—which meant that Fen needed to gain his trust if he was to rescue the pack from the mayor’s crazy plans.
The older boy met his eyes expectantly when Fen stormed into the tent. “So…” Skull started.
“So, that lunatic is why you trapped me.” Fen flopped to the floor of the tent.
“Yep.”
“Do you believe in the whole better-to-end-the-world-and-rebuild-from-the-ashes thing?” Fen asked.
For a moment, Skull said nothing. He looked strangely normal in that instant, like he wasn’t the same kid who’d tormented Fen for years. Then he ruined it all by saying, “Most of the time.”
Fen snorted.
Skull grinned.
They sat, staring quietly at each other for an almost peaceful moment before Skull added, “It’s not like it could be worse than now, you know?”
Fen’s ears perked up like the wolf he sometimes was. There was a reason Skull was cooperating with the mayor, and maybe if Fen could figure that out, he could change things. Being a Brekke made him understand that people often make bad decisions not because they’re bad, but because they’re scared or angry.
“I need to think about my sister,” Skull continued. “I need to think about what’s best for the pack… well, I did before you took over. I have a little brother, too, you know? I never see him, and I don’t want this life for him, too. Living like we do, always moving, camping, fighting. It gets hard. I have scars I don’t even remember getting. My sister handles it, but she’s an… unusual girl.”
A bark of laughter escaped before Fen could smother it. Hattie was more wolf than girl. Over the years, Fen was pretty sure he’d grown more scared of her than of Skull.
