Page 115 of Heart of Mischief

“We’re Loki’s children,” Mason interrupted.

Charlie inhaled sharply, head whipping around to look at her brother. It was the first time he’d ever said those words out loud—and with such resolution. As if he truly believed them.

The mare paused.

“Mason and Charlotte Hudson. We live in Silver Shores, Michigan. Loki sent Elias there to protect us from Rattatosk.” He stared the mare on the screen down, as if in challenge. “We’re his children.”

“How can—”

“Ask him yourself,” said Mason.

This drew the mare up short. Charlie knew that he was hearing what she did: the confidence in Mason’s voice. The surety. Her brother always spoke this way. It was how he’d become the most popular senior at their high school, how he’d become captain of the baseball team when he wasn’t even the most talented player on it. Mason radiated self-confidence. It was something she’d always admired about him.

In that moment, she felt immense (and immensely selfish) gratitude that he’d come with her to Helheim.

The mare turned his head and began speaking a language they couldn’t understand. It sounded like… Swedish? Icelandic? Russian? Charlie had no idea. She was woefully bad at languages; she barely spoke Spanish, and she’d been taking classes since freshman year.

The mare’s voice didn’t sound angry, but it didn’t sound particularly friendly, either. When he finished speaking, he paused, listening to the response of whoever had been listening.

Charlie’s heart thundered in her chest.Is it Loki?Could her father be on the other side of that screen?

The Swedish/Icelandic/Russian back-and-forth continued for over a minute. Charlie and Mason exchanged panicked glances but said nothing, both clearly thinking the same thing:What is the mare saying? Is he going to let us through? Are we going to be torn limb from limb by hounds?Charlie didn’t know that she could stop them if they tried. There were somany, and they looked fast—and potentially already dead, which, you know… how does one kill something already dead? She’d have to use her magic to protect not only herself but Mason and Elias. Henry, too. Could she conjure a shield, maybe? A really, really, really big shield?

A really, really, really big shield, she thought to herself.Great idea, Charlie. You’re definitely getting everyone killed today.

After an excruciatingly long and unintelligible conversation, the mare on the screen turned to them at last. The hounds tensed, preparing to leap. Charlie sucked in a breath and held it. Beside her, she heard Mason do the same.

“You may enter,” the mare said.

Breath rushed out of Charlie’s and Mason’s lungs in unison.

“However,” he went on, “the garmur will be with you the entire way to the palace. You are to take two of the helhest tied up outside the cacti forest and ride them straight here. The garmur willshow you the way. If either of you tries to pull anything—if you so much as stop to tie your shoelaces—the garmur will attack without hesitation. You’ll be dead before you have time to explain what you were doing.” He paused, his brown eyes moving between Charlie and Mason. “Understood?”

“Understood,” they said together.

“Good. We’ll be waiting.”

With that ominous farewell, the screen vanished, and the way forward was finally clear.

38

They found the helhest rightaway.There were six of them, lashed to the cacti a stone’s throw from the exit, and they looked about as close to horses as one might expect to find in the underworld. Like the garmur, the helhest were half-dead, all graying skin, glowing eyes, bony ribs, and clumps of patchy black fur. They had only three legs but no issues with balance. They huffed and snorted, tossing their heads up and pawing impatiently at the dirt.

“Have you ever ridden a horse before?” Mason asked as they made their way slowly toward the steeds. There was an unspoken agreement between them to move as carefully as possible, given that they were currently flanked by a dozen hungry, undead hounds.

Charlie shook her head.

“Me neither,” said Mason. “And I’m not thrilled that my first time will be on one dreamt up by Stephen King back when he was too young to know how many legs horses have.”

One of the garmur growled, causing Mason to whimper and stumble sideways into Charlie. “Looks like Lassie speaks English,” he whispered, “and doesn’t like it when we talk shit about her creepy friends.”

Charlie would have laughed if she weren’t so terrified.

When they reached the horses, the garmur formed a large half circle around the helhest, sitting on their haunches and staring withunsettling intensity at Charlie and Mason. Their glowing blue eyes were made even creepier by the hazy orange sky behind them.

“Right.” Mason put his hands on his hips. “No saddles. Of course not.”

“Let me try and set Elias on one of the helhest with magic,” Charlie said. “If that works, I can do the same with you, then—”