Page 3 of Heart of Mischief

As Loki opened his mouth to reply, a voice interrupted.

“Sir.”

Elias glanced back to find Ragnar, leader of the mare guard of Helheim, standing at attention. Ragnar was, as always, in shadow form, his hulking body and shoulder-length hair outlined in flickering darkness. Elias had never seen the head guard’s true face—not even in the gambling den, where the other guards gathered on days off to drink and bet and occasionally throw hands. Everyone who came did so in human form. It was a house requirement; it’s too easy to cheat when you’re made of shadow.

But Ragnar never joined. Elias wasn’t even sure that he’d taken a single day off since becoming head guard centuries before. The man was obsessed with honor and duty.

Yawn.

Elias looked back up at Loki.

“This better be important,” the god said, eyebrows raised. “I was just about to send Elias here to wreak some delicious havoc on those imperious, annoying elves.”

“It is,” said Ragnar. “We have received news from Asgard.” He paused. “News that requires your urgent attention.”

“My urgent attention?” Loki snorted. “There’s no such thing as urgency in the afterlife.”

The corners of Ragnar’s mouth didn’t so much as twitch. “Trust me, sir. You’re going to want to hear this.”

Loki studied him. At last, he nodded and gestured for Ragnar to approach. The mare climbed the steps up to the dais and bent over to whisper in Loki’s ear. Within seconds, the god’s eyes expanded with uncharacteristic shock.

When Ragnar was done speaking, Loki leaned back and looked him in the eye. “You’re certain?”

Ragnar nodded.

Loki turned away, rubbing his chin absently with a thumb and forefinger. It was his usual look of calculation, of the wheels turning as he cooked up a brand-new plan. But there was something different about this particular expression. Normally, when he was in this state, his eyes flashed and glimmered, as if lit from within. A small smile would play at his lips. But this time… this time, his eyes were dark, his lips turned down. Almost as if he was worried.

But the god of mischief never worried.

Right?

When Loki’s eyes returned to Elias, his face had altered once more. Now, it was resolute. Locked into whatever path he had chosen.

“Change of plan, Elias.” He leaned back on the throne, folding his hands on his lap. “You’re going to Asgard, not Alfheim.” He hesitated, as if he was still on the fence about what came next. “But first, there’s something you need to know.”

Part

I MONDAY

1

The vittra had no ideahow closeit was to death. The ground was covered in leaves, and the vittra just hunched there, gnawing at the carcass of what appeared to have once been a two-headed rat. Its focus was on prying every chunk of meat from the rat’s bones, not on the trees above where Charlie crouched, concealed by bright fall foliage, bow in hand, ready to take its head off.

It was just past dawn. Early morning light filtered through the leaves, illuminating the hideous creature below.

The vittra was goblin-like, with corpse-gray skin, bulging eyes, poison-tipped teeth, and nails like newly sharpened kitchen knives. Nearly four weeks ago, a whole pack had chased her and Elias through the forest. Thankfully, they’d been able to escape by diving headfirst into Lake Michigan. Vittra loathed bodies of water.

Charlie shuddered to remember how woefully unprepared she’d been for the dangers of Asgard. She had no idea how to defend herself. Had never even wielded a knife before then, let alone a sword or spear or bow and arrow.

Which was why she was perched in a tree.

A twig snapped beside her, and the goblin paused, stubby ears perking up. Charlie swallowed a gasp and ducked behind a cluster of orange-red leaves just before the creature’s head whipped around.

Hunched over, she found herself staring down at Henry, who squatted beside her on the tree branch. The vätte’s little foot restedatop a broken twig. She narrowed her eyes. His tiny arms shrugged, and even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she somehow knew they were wide with apology. She rolled her eyes and pressed a finger to her lips.

Ever since Charlie had given Henry his name and solidified their bond, he rarely left her side. He sat on her shoulder during training, slept at the bottom of her backpack during history class, stole slices of turkey from Lou’s sandwiches during lunch. He was her shadow. To an outsider, his never-ending presence might sound irritating, like a little sibling who won’t leave you alone. To Charlie, however, it was exactly right. He was a part of her now. A piece of her soul that lived outside her body.

Not to mention her personal security.