فصل 24

You Had One Job

TURNS OUT VALHALLA had been sending its recycling to home plate at Fenway, which could explain any problems the Red Sox were having with their offensive lineup.

Hearthstone was just getting to his feet when I landed on top of him and knocked him flat. Before I could extricate myself, Blitzen plowed into my chest. I pushed him off and rolled away just in case anyone else decided to drop out of the sky.

I struggled to my feet. “Why are we in Fenway Park?”

“Don’t ask me.” Blitzen sighed dismally. His nice wool suit looked like it had passed through the digestive tract of a snail. “The doors in and out of Valhalla are notoriously wonky. At least we’re in Midgard.”

Rows of red bleachers stood empty and silent, uncomfortably similar to the Feast Hall of the Slain before the einherjar marched in. The field was covered in a patchwork of frozen tarps that crunched under my feet.

It must have been around six in the morning. The eastern sky was just starting to turn gray. My breath steamed in the air.

“What were we running from?” I asked. “What kind of mutant squirrel—”

“Ratatosk,” Blitz said. “The bane of the World Tree. Anyone who dares climb Yggdrasil’s branches sooner or later has to deal with that monster. Count yourself lucky we escaped.”

Hearthstone pointed toward the dawn. He signed: Sun. Bad for Blitzen.

Blitz squinted. “You’re right. After that business on the bridge, I can’t stand any more direct exposure.”

“What do you mean?” I looked more closely at his face. “Are you turning gray?”

Blitzen looked away, but there was no doubt. His cheeks had lightened to the color of wet clay. “Kid, you may have noticed I never hung around with you much during the day?”

“I…yeah. It was like Hearth took the day shift. You took the night shift.”

“Exactly. Dwarves are subterranean creatures. Sunlight is deadly to us. Mind you, not as deadly as it is to trolls. I can stand a little bit, but if I’m out for too long I start to…uh, petrify.”

I remembered the fight on Longfellow Bridge, how Blitzen had been wearing a broad-brimmed hat, coat, gloves, and sunglasses—a strange fashion statement, especially with the MAKE WAY FOR DUCKLINGS sign. “If you cover up, will you be okay?”

“It helps. Thick clothing, sunscreen, et cetera. But at the moment”—he gestured to his clothes—“I’m not prepared. I dropped my supply pack somewhere in the World Tree.”

Hearthstone signed: After bridge, his legs turned to stone. No walking until night.

A lump formed in my throat. Blitz and Hearth’s attempt to protect me on the Longfellow Bridge had been pretty ridiculous, but they’d tried. Just by being out in the daytime, Blitzen had risked his life.

As many questions as I had, as messed up as my life (death?) was at the moment, knowing that Blitzen was in danger again for my sake readjusted my priorities.

“Let’s get you someplace dark,” I said.

The easiest option was the Green Monster—the famous home-run-blocking four-story wall along the left outfield. I’d been behind it once before on a school trip—first grade, maybe? I remembered there were service doors under the scoreboard.

I found one unlocked, and we slipped inside.

There wasn’t much to see—just metal scaffolding, stacks of green number cards hanging on the wall, and the stadium’s concrete ribs tattooed with a hundred years of graffiti. The space had one important requirement, though: it was dark.

Blitzen sat on a pile of mats and pulled off his boots. Acorns spilled out. His socks were gray paisley, matching his vest.

The socks amazed me as much as anything I’d encountered in Valhalla. “Blitz, what’s with the outfit? You look so…spiffy.”

He puffed up his chest. “Thank you, Magnus. It hasn’t been easy dressing like a bum the last two years. No offense, of course.”

“Of course.”

“This is how I usually dress. I take my appearance very seriously. I’ll admit I’m a bit of a clotheshorse.”

Hearth made a sound between a sneeze and a snort. He signed: A bit?

“Oh, be quiet,” Blitz grumbled. “Who bought you that scarf, eh?” He turned to me for support. “I told Hearth he needed a splash of color. The black clothes. The platinum blond hair. The red-striped scarf makes a bold statement, don’t you think?”

“Uh…sure,” I said. “As long as I don’t have to wear it. Or the paisley socks.”

“Don’t be silly. Patterned fabric would look terrible on you.” Blitz frowned at his boot. “What were we talking about again?”

“How about why you’ve been watching me for the last two years?”

Hearth signed: Told you. The boss.

“Not Loki,” I said. “Odin, then?”

Blitz laughed. “No. The Capo is even smarter than Odin. He likes to work behind the scenes, stay anonymous. He assigned us to watch you and, uh”—he cleared his throat—“keep you alive.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” Blitzen shook the acorns out of his other boot. “We had one job. We failed. ‘Keep him alive,’ said the Capo. ‘Watch him. Protect him if needed, but don’t interfere with his choices. He’s important to the plan.’”

“The plan.”

“The Capo knows stuff. The future, for instance. He does his best to nudge events in the right direction, keep the Nine Worlds from spiraling into chaos and exploding.”

“That sounds like a good plan.”

“He told us you were the son of Frey. He didn’t go into details, but he was very insistent: you were important, had to be protected. When you died…well, I’m just glad we found you in Valhalla. Maybe all isn’t lost. Now we’ve got to report to the Capo and get new orders.”

Hearthstone signed: And hope he doesn’t kill us.

“That, too.” Blitzen didn’t sound optimistic. “The thing is, Magnus, until we talk to the boss, I can’t really go into many details.”

“Even though I’m important to the plan.”

That’s why we can’t, Hearth signed.

“What about what happened after I fell off the bridge? Can you tell me that?”

Blitz picked a leaf out of his beard. “Well, Surt disappeared into the water with you.”

“It was Surt.”

“Oh, yeah. And I gotta say, nice job with that. A mortal taking down the lord of the fire giants? Even if you died doing it, that was impressive.”

“So…I killed him?”

No such luck, Hearth signed.

“Yeah,” Blitz agreed. “But fire giants don’t do well in icy water. I imagine the impact shocked him right back to Muspellheim. And cutting off his nose…that was brilliant. It’ll take him a while to regain enough strength to travel between worlds.”

A few days, Hearth guessed.

“Maybe longer,” Blitz said.

I looked back and forth between them, two nonhumans discussing the mechanics of traveling between worlds the way somebody else might debate how long it would take to fix a carburetor.

“You guys got away okay, obviously,” I said. “What about Randolph?”

Hearthstone wrinkled his nose. Your uncle. Annoying, but fine.

“Kid, you saved lives,” Blitzen said. “There were a lot of injuries, a lot of damage, but no mortals died—um, except you. The last time Surt visited Midgard, it didn’t go so well.”

Great Chicago Fire, Hearth signed.

“Yeah,” said Blitz. “Anyway, the Boston explosions made national news. The humans are still investigating. They’re speculating the damage was caused by meteor strikes.”

I remember thinking that myself at first. And later wondering whether Surt had been responsible for them all. “But dozens of people saw Surt on the bridge! At least one guy caught him on video.”

Blitz shrugged. “You’d be amazed what mortals don’t see. Not just humans. Dwarves and elves are just as bad. Besides, giants are experts at glamour.”

“Glamour. I’m guessing you don’t mean fashion.”

“No. Giants are horrible at fashion. I mean glamour like illusions. Giants are magic by nature. They can manipulate your senses without even trying. One time a giant made Hearthstone think I was a warthog, and Hearth almost killed me.”

No more about the warthog! Hearthstone pleaded.

“So, anyway,” Blitz said, “you fell in the river and died. The emergency services retrieved your body, but—”

“My body…”

Hearthstone pulled a newspaper clipping from his jacket pocket and handed it to me.

I read my own obituary. There was my class picture from fifth grade—my hair in my eyes, my uncomfortable why-am-I-here smile, my ratty DROPKICK MURPHYS T-shirt. The obituary didn’t say much. Nothing about my two-year disappearance, my homelessness, my mom’s death. Just: Untimely demise. Survived by two uncles and a cousin. Private service to be held.

“But my body is here,” I said, touching my chest. “I have a body.”

“A new and improved body,” Blitz agreed, squeezing my biceps in admiration. “They retrieved your old body. Hearth and I did our own search of the river. There was no sign of Surt. Worse…there was no sign of the sword. If it’s not at the bottom of the river again—”

“Could Randolph have found it?” I asked.

Hearthstone shook his head. We watched him. Doesn’t have it.

“Then Surt has the sword,” I guessed.

Blitz shuddered. “Let’s not assume that. There’s still a chance it’s with your old body.”

“Why would it be?”

Blitz pointed to Hearth. “Ask him. He’s the expert at magic.”

Hard to explain in signs, Hearth gestured. A magic sword stays with you. You claimed it.

“But…I didn’t.”

You summoned it, Hearth signed. Held it first, before Surt. Hope that means Surt didn’t get it. Don’t know why the sword didn’t go to Valhalla.

“I wasn’t holding the sword when I hit the river,” I said. “It slipped out of my hand.”

“Ah.” Blitz nodded. “That might be why. Still, the sword would traditionally go into your grave, or get burned on your pyre. So there’s a decent chance it will materialize next to your dead body. We need to look in your coffin.”

My skin crawled. “You want me to go to my own funeral?”

Hearth signed: No. We go before.

“According to your obituary notice,” Blitz said, “your body is at the funeral home today for viewing hours. The service isn’t until tonight. If you go now, you should have the place to yourself. The building isn’t open yet, and you won’t exactly have mourners lining up outside.”

“Thanks a lot.”

Blitzen tugged on his boots. “I’ll go talk to the boss. On the way, I’ll pop by Svartalfheim and pick up some proper anti-sunlight supplies.”

“You’ll pop by the world of the dark elves?”

“Yeah. It’s not as hard as it sounds. I’ve had a lot of practice, and Boston is at the center of Yggdrasil. Slipping between worlds is easy here. One time Hearth and I stepped off a curb in Kendall Square and fell into Niflheim by accident.”

That was cold, Hearth signed.

“While I’m gone,” Blitz said, “Hearthstone will take you to the funeral home. I’ll meet you…where?”

Arlington—nearest T stop, Hearth signed.

“Good.” Blitzen stood. “Get that sword, kid…and be careful. Outside Valhalla, you can die like anybody else. The last thing we need to explain to the boss is two Magnus Chase corpses.”