Page 62 of Heart of Mischief

“Wow,” said Hod. “I wish I could join.”

“You can!” said Loki. “Let me help you. I’ll lead you over to where they’re standing and give you something to throw at him. It will be something small, but I guarantee they will still roar with laughter when you throw it.”

“That would be wonderful, Loki,” said Hod. “Thank you so much.”

Loki led Hod over to the gathered gods, nudging them aside to make sure Hod ended up in the optimal throwing spot. Once Hod was in position, Loki placed the small dart of mistletoe in his hand.

“Go ahead, Hod,” Loki said encouragingly. “Make them all laugh!”

Hod smiled and threw the dart.

Expectantly, he waited for the other gods to laugh. To appreciate his addition to the joke.

Instead, the crowd went silent—and then Frigg began to wail.

The story wasn’t over yet, but Charlie stopped reading. She needed a break.

This story… unsettled her. On the surface, it was not so different from the other stories she’d read: the gods do something to make themselves stronger or better or wiser (in all these stories, Charlie noticed the gods areobsessedwith their immortality and are constantly finding ways to ensure it can never end), clever Loki plays a shape-shifting trick, someone dies, etc. It had all the trappings of a classic Norse myth. Why, then, did this story in particular make Charlie sick to her stomach?

And then it hit her.

The answer was Loki himself. In the tales Charlie had read, Loki did morally questionable things, but there was always a reason. A purpose behind his tricks and mischief. They fit into whatever scheme he was running—one that benefited him, the rest of the gods, or both. She might disagree with his actions, but she understood them.

This story was different. It offered no reason for Loki killing Balder. Was it jealousy? An unresolved feud? Something else? Because, as the story was written now, Loki killed Balder simply to be cruel, to hurt the other gods.

It made Charlie’s stomach churn. Yet another reason to pray he was not her real father.

Sighing, she pushed aside her laptop and settled in to do some homework. Her mom was right; she’d been slacking lately. But how exactly was she supposed to focus on schoolwork when the end of the world was always just around the corner?

Charlie had a math worksheet and three chapters inA Tale ofTwo Citiesdue the next day. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to focus on the pages in front of her for more than five minutes before her mind started to wander. To flash back to the Morrises on the forest floor or Rattatosk’s message carved into that garage door or to Thrym’s mountainous voice telling her,Stand, child of Loki.

She couldn’t truly be Loki’s child… right?

Right?

After forty minutes of staring atA Tale of Two Cities, Charlie gave up. She shoved the book onto the floor and rolled over onto her back, lifting up her phone.

I’m ditching school tomorrow, and so are you, she typed, then pressed Send.

There was no guarantee that Elias still used this number. It was the number he’d used three weeks ago, but for all she knew, that phone was long gone. Maybe he’d smashed it before heading into the cave. Or maybe he brought it along, but it blew up when they transported to Helheim. Presumably, hurtling through space and time had a negative effect on one’s electronics.

Apparently, his phone was fine, though, because his response appeared only seconds later.

ELIAS:Mmm, I like the sound of this already

ELIAS:Your bedroom or mine?

She snorted.

CHARLIE:Don’t be disgusting.

CHARLIE:This is for training.

CHARLIE:Frankly, I don’t care about school right now. Not when we need to find Rattatosk’s master. I should focus ontrying to learn the magical woo-woo stuff that could keep my town safe.

ELIAS:“magical woo-woo stuff”?

ELIAS:Don’t insult your father like that.