Page 22 of Heart of Mischief

“What are you doing here, mortal?” Bjorn demanded, digging a meaty hand into the popcorn bowl. “You’re not due back until Wednesday morning.”

Henry jumped from Charlie’s palm and landed on the carpet, scuttling over to the sofa. He skittered up the leg of the coffee table and plopped down beside the bowl of popcorn, darting one tiny hand out and plucking up a kernel.

Charlie was too winded to speak. “I was”—she inhaled heavily—“just checking”—gasp—“that Elias hadn’t”—gasp—“killed you.”

“What?” Vidar asked as Bjorn leapt to his feet, yelling over his friend.

“The mare is here?” Bjorn said, yanking the sword from his belt and holding it aloft. “Where? I’ll have his head, the fiend.” He advanced on the wall, waving his sword threateningly at its plaster, as if expecting Elias to step right through it—which, frankly, wasn’t an unreasonable suspicion. “Come out, demon!”

Henry chirped and waved his little arms in the air, egging Bjorn on.

“Is he here?” Vidar asked, picking up the TV remote and lowering the volume. With his other hand, he touched the hilt of his axe, straightening and glancing over his shoulder. “I thought he was in Helheim with Loki.”

“You stole our chance to get back into Valhalla,” Bjorn yelled, stabbing his sword at the wall. “I’ll steal the shadows from your body and shred them to pieces!”

“We thought so, too,” Charlie said, straightening up and sheathing the Valkyrie knife in the hidden pocket she now sewed into all of her pants. “He showed up at lunch today. Just walked into the cafeteria and announced his return to the entire school.”

“His return?” Vidar asked. “As in, he’s living in Silver Shores? Where?”

“I don’t know.” Charlie rubbed her forehead with the heels of her palms. “I thought he would’ve come back to this house, and when I imagined him finding you two here instead…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I was scared you wouldn’t be alive when I got here.”

At last, Bjorn quit sparring with the wall. He looked over his shoulder at Charlie. “Us? Killed by that puny little beast?” He scoffed, stuffing his sword back into its leather sheath. “Not a chance.”

“What does he want?” Vidar asked. “Why is he here?”

“He claims Loki sent him here to ‘protect’ Mason and me. But then Sophie showed up, crashing straight through the skylight of the bathroom—”

“Wait,” said Bjorn, whose complete attention Charlie had apparently just won, “your twin sister was there? The one who’s a Valkyrie?”

“Yes,” she said. “She was, and she—”

“But that’s incredible!” Bjorn yelled. “Did you mention us? Did you ask about a timeline for our return to Valhalla?”

“It must have slipped my mind.” Charlie rolled her eyes. “Something about my worst enemy returning to town and my dead sister flying through a skylight really clogs up the brain.”

Bjorn sighed dramatically, crossing the room and falling back onto the couch.

“Ignore him,” said Vidar. “Go on. What did your sister say?”

“She wanted to talk about the kids we found this morning. She said that they were attacked by… a squirrel?”

Bjorn wrinkled his nose. “A squirrel?”

“Yeah. A shape-shifting squirrel. One whose name sounds like ratatouille.”

The Vikings’ eyes ballooned in unison.

“Rattatosk?” Bjorn whispered.

“That’s the one,” Charlie said. “She said he’s pretty horrific.”

“Oh, he is,” said Bjorn, his voice husky and crackling. “Rattatosk makes the Fenrir look like an innocent little puppy. And because he’s always controlled by someone else, you never know what his next move will be.” He shuddered. “She really thinks Rattatosk is the one who killed those kids we found?”

“She knows he is. Apparently, taking fingers is what he does.”

Vidar grunted. “We wouldn’t know. We’ve never seen him or any of his victims.”

“Youhaven’t seen him,” Bjorn corrected. “I knew a guy, in Valhalla. Name of Harald. Says he went head-to-head with Rattatosk on the battlefield, back in the day.”