Page 41 of Heart of Mischief

“Or someones,” she agreed.

“A set of siblings, perhaps. A brother and sister, about high school age…”

She whipped her head to look at Elias. “You’re not saying…”

He shrugged, turning the car onto Birch Street. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions yet. All I’m saying is that there’s a reason Loki sent me here to keep watch on you and your brother.”

A shiver ran down Charlie’s spine as Elias leaned onto the accelerator. The convertible picked up speed, wind howling in her ears and sending her hair flying.

Rattatosk was looking for her and Mason. That’s what Elias was insinuating.

It can’t be true, she thought.Why us? Why now?

The why doesn’t matter, whispered a darker part of her mind.You knew this would happen. You’ve known since the day your brother ate that eyaerberry. You two are exposed. Your sister is a Valkyrie. TheFenrir wanted you dead, and others probably do, too. This development is an inevitability.

She shouldn’t let her mind go there. Already she could feel another episode beginning, creeping into her body. It started as it always did: like an orchestra tuning up, the cellos her rising anxiety, the cymbals her quickening heartbeat, the high-pitched violins the buzzing on the surface of her skin.

You are in danger. Your brother is in danger. Your friends are in danger.

And it’s all your fault.

The orchestra played only one note, a note of panic, starting soft but getting louder with every instrument, every body part and internal organ that joined in, all of it against Charlie’s will. She squeezed her eyes shut. The anxiety built to a crescendo. It overwhelmed everything else; every sound and smell and touch and sensation—it was all gone. Panic was all she knew.

“—lie?” came a voice at the end of the tunnel she was in. It rose just over the awful music. “Hello? Are you with me?”

Her eyes popped open. She stifled a gasp.

Elias. It was just Elias. He was sitting next to her, driving his car. Only, the car wasn’t moving. It was stopped at an intersection, and he’d turned all the way around in the driver’s seat to stare at her.

You will turn him back into a human.

And you will never trust another boy with your heart again.

“Yes.” She exhaled, laying a hand on her chest. The violins were quieting, the cymbals slowing their crashes. “Yes, I just… I got lost in thought.”

He narrowed his eyes. “That didn’t look like someone who was just lost in thought.”

“Well, I was,” she snapped, and if her voice was a touch too bitchy, whatever. She couldn’t have him knowing about the strange episodes she kept having. Not when they were such an obvious weakness. “Now, can you please start driving again? We’re wasting time.”

Elias hesitated, clearly not wanting to drop the subject. Until finally, with a muttered, “Whatever,” and a shake of his head, he took his foot off the brake and the car pulled forward.

Charlie exhaled in relief.Thank the gods.She turned to face the road, determined to change the subject and keep herself distracted. Keep the episode at bay. And if her hands were clenched in fists a little too tight at her sides, oh well.

“So,” she said, raising her voice to compensate for the wind. “What exactly is this ‘clue’ you claim to possess?”

“I don’tclaimanything,” he yelled back. “My intel is very reliable. It came from the Sons of Ivaldi themselves.”

“Wait.” Charlie blinked. “TheSons of Ivaldi?”

She remembered their story well. It was one of the first ones she’d read on Twelve Essential Tales, and it went like this:

Once upon a time, Loki stole the hair from the head of Sif, Thor’s wife, while she slept. To Loki, it was a funny prank, but Thor was furious. Sif had the most beautiful hair in all of Asgard, and Loki hadn’t just shaved it off; he’d removed it by the very roots, never to grow back. When Thor confronted Loki and threatened to kill him, Loki promised to go to Svartalfheim and not return until he convinced the dwarves—the most skilled magical craftsmen in the eight realms—to create a wig that would perfectly replicate Sif’s hair and would bond to her scalp like real hair does.

On the way to Svartalfheim, Loki cooked up a plan. Not only would he get Sif a new head of hair, he would pull off a scheme sure to pleaseallthe gods.

When he reached the realm of the dwarves, he sought out the two sets of blacksmiths rumored to be the most skilled in all of Svartalfheim: the three Sons of Ivaldi, and two brothers called Brokkr and Eitri. Loki convinced them to go head-to-head in a competition to determine which brothers were the most talented smiths in Svartalfheim. Each team was to create the three mightiest magical items they could, then present them to the gods as gifts.Whichever team made the item that Odin deemed most powerful would be crowned the winner.

The Sons of Ivaldi created Sif’s magical head of hair, Frey’s flying ship, and Gungnir, Odin’s legendary spear (which Odin later gave up so it could be the anchor for the Seal between Asgard and Earth, though naturally, Twelve Essential Tales didn’t know that detail). Brokkr and Eitri created Frey’s vicious boar, Odin’s self-replicating golden ring, and—last but not least—Mjollnir, the legendary hammer of Thor.