فصل 46

Aboard the Good Ship Toenail

I KNEW I WAS IN TROUBLE when I woke up dreaming.

I found myself standing next to Loki on the deck of a massive ship.

“There you are!” said Loki. “I was starting to wonder.”

“How…?” I noticed his outfit. “What are you wearing?”

“You like it?” His scarred lips twisted into a grin. His white admiral’s jacket gleamed with medals, but Loki wasn’t exactly wearing it regulation-style. It was open over a black T-shirt featuring Jack Nicholson’s face from The Shining. The caption read: HEEEERE’S LOKI!

“Where are we?” I asked.

Loki polished his medals with his coat sleeve. “Well, neither of us is here, of course. I’m still tied up on a stone slab with snake poison dripping in my face. You’re dying on the banks of a river in Jotunheim.”

“I’m what?”

“Whether you live or not, this may be our last chance to talk. I wanted you to see this—Naglfar, the Ship of Nails! It’s almost complete.”

The ship came into clearer focus—a Viking longship larger than an aircraft carrier. The main deck could’ve accommodated the Boston Marathon. Giant shields lined the railings. Fore and aft rose thirty-foot-tall figureheads shaped like snarling wolves. Naturally, they had to be wolves.

I peered over the side between two shields. A hundred feet down, braided iron cables moored the ship to a dock. The gray sea churned with ice.

I ran my hand along the railing. The surface was bumpy and prickly—enameled with white and gray ridges like fish scales or pearl shavings. At first glance, I’d assumed the deck was made of steel, but now I realized the whole ship was constructed of this weird translucent material—not metal, not wood, but something strangely familiar.

“What is this?” I asked Loki. “I don’t see any wood or nails. Why is it called the Ship of Nails?”

Loki chuckled. “Not carpentry nails, Magnus. Naglfar is made from the fingernails and toenails of dead men.”

The deck seemed to pitch beneath me. I wasn’t sure if it was possible to puke in a dream, but I was tempted. It wasn’t just the obvious grossness of standing on a ship made of nail clippings that made me nauseated—it was the sheer volume of the material. How many corpses had had to contribute their nails to make a ship this size?

Once I managed to steady my breathing, I faced Loki. “Why?”

Even with the ruined lips and scarred face, Loki’s grin was so infectious, I almost smiled back—almost.

“Amazingly disgusting, isn’t it?” he said. “Back in the old days, your ancestors knew that nail clippings carried part of your spirit, your essence…your DNA, you’d call it now. Throughout their lives, mortals were careful to burn any clippings they made. When they died, their nails would be trimmed and the clippings destroyed so the material wouldn’t contribute to this great ship. But sometimes”—Loki shrugged—“as you can see, the proper precautions weren’t taken.”

“You’ve built yourself a battleship out of toenails.”

“Well, the ship is building itself. And, technically, Naglfar belongs to Surt and the fire giants, but when Ragnarok comes, I will guide this ship out of the harbor. We’ll have an army of giants led by Captain Hrym, plus hundreds of thousands of dishonored dead from Helheim—all those who were careless or unlucky enough to die without a sword in their hand, a proper burial, and a decent post-mortem mani-pedi. We’ll sail to Asgard and destroy the gods. It’ll be awesome.”

I looked aft, expecting to see an army gathering on the shore, but the mist was so thick I couldn’t see the end of the dock. Despite my usual resistance to cold, the damp air soaked into my bones and made my teeth chatter.

“Why are you showing me this?” I asked.

“Because I like you, Magnus. You’ve got a sense of humor. You’ve got zing. So rare in a demigod! Even rarer among the einherjar. I’m glad my daughter found you.”

“Samirah…that’s how she can turn into a horsefly. She’s a shape-shifter like you.”

“Oh, she’s Daddy’s girl, all right. She doesn’t like to admit it, but she’s inherited a lot of things from me: my abilities, my dashing good looks, my keen intellect. She can spot talent too. After all, she chose you, my friend.”

I clutched my stomach. “I don’t feel so good.”

“Duh! You’re on the verge of death. Personally, I hope you wake up, because if you kick the bucket now, your death will be meaningless and nothing you’ve done will matter.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Listen—I brought you here for some perspective. When Ragnarok comes, all bonds will break, not just the ropes binding Fenris. The moorings of this ship—snap. The bindings that hold me captive—snap. Whether or not you keep that sword out of Surt’s hands, it’s only a matter of time. One bond will snap and they’ll all start going—unraveling like one huge tapestry.”

“You’re trying to discourage me? I thought you wanted Ragnarok delayed.”

“Oh, I do!” He put up his hands. His wrists were raw and bleeding, as if he’d been handcuffed too tightly. “I’m totally on your side, Magnus! Look at the figureheads. The wolves’ snouts aren’t finished yet. Is there anything more embarrassing than sailing into battle with half-finished figureheads?”

“So what do you want?”

“The same thing I’ve always wanted,” Loki said. “To help you fight your fate. Which of the gods besides me has bothered to speak to you as a friend and an equal?”

His eyes were like Sam’s—bright and intense, the color of burning—but there was something harder and more calculating about Loki’s gaze—something that didn’t jibe with his friendly smile. I remembered how Sam had described him: a liar, a thief, a murderer.

“We’re friends now?” I asked. “Equals?”

“We could be,” he said. “In fact, I have an idea. Forget going to Fenris’s island. Forget facing Surt. I know a place where the sword will be safe.”

“With you?”

Loki laughed. “Don’t tempt me, kid. No, no. I was thinking about your Uncle Randolph. He understands the value of the sword. He’s spent his life looking for it, preparing to study it. You might not know it, but his house is heavily fortified with magic. If you took the sword to him…well, the old man can’t use it himself. But he would store it away. It would be out of Surt’s hands. And that’s what matters, eh? It would buy us all some time.”

I wanted to laugh in Loki’s face and tell him no. I figured he was trying to trick me. Yet I couldn’t see his angle.

“You think it’s a trap,” Loki said. “I get that. But you must have wondered why Mimir told you to take the blade to the Wolf’s island—the very place where Surt wants to use it. What’s the sense in that? What if Mimir is playing you? I mean, come on. That old severed head runs a pachinko racket! If you don’t bring the sword to the island, Surt won’t be able get his hands on it. Why take the risk?”

I struggled to clear my thoughts. “You’re—you’re a smooth talker. You’d make a good used car salesman.”

Loki winked. “I think the term is pre-owned. You’ve got to make a choice soon, Magnus. We may not be able to speak again. If you want a gesture of good faith, however, I can sweeten the deal. My daughter Hel and I…we’ve been talking.”

My heart jackknifed. “Talking about…”

“I’ll let her tell you. But now…” He tilted his head, listening. “Yes, we don’t have much time. You might be waking up.”

“Why were you bound?” The question forced itself out before I realized I was thinking it. “I remember you killed somebody….”

His smile hardened. The angry lines around his eyes made him look ten years older.

“You know how to ruin a conversation,” Loki said. “I killed Balder, the god of light—the handsome, perfect, incredibly annoying son of Odin and Frigg.” He stepped toward me and poked my chest, emphasizing each word. “And—I’d—do—it—again.”

In the back of my brain, my common sense yelled, DROP IT! But as you have probably figured out by now, I don’t listen to my common sense much.

“Why did you kill him?”

Loki barked a laugh. His breath smelled of almonds, like cyanide. “Did I mention he was annoying? Frigg was so worried about him. The poor baby had been having bad dreams about his own doom. Welcome to reality, Balder! We all have bad dreams. But Frigg couldn’t stand the idea that her precious angel might bruise his little foot. She exacted promises from everything in creation that nothing would hurt her beautiful son—people, gods, trees, rocks….Can you imagine exacting a promise from a rock? Frigg managed it. Afterward, the gods had a party to celebrate. They started throwing things at Balder just for laughs. Arrows, swords, boulders, each other…nothing would hurt him. It was as if the idiot was surrounded by a force field. Well…I’m sorry. The thought of Mr. Perfect also being Mr. Invulnerable made me sick.”

I blinked, trying to get the sting out of my eyes. Loki’s voice was so full of hatred it seemed to make the air burn. “You found a way to kill him.”

“Mistletoe!” Loki’s smile brightened. “Can you imagine? Frigg forgot one tiny little plant. I fashioned a dart from the stuff, gave it to Balder’s blind brother, a god named Hod. I didn’t want him to miss the fun of chucking deadly objects at Balder, so I guided Hod’s hand and…well, Frigg’s worst fears came true. Balder deserved it.”

“For being too handsome and popular.”

“Yes!”

“For being loved.”

“Exactly!” Loki leaned forward until we were almost nose-to-nose. “Don’t tell me you haven’t done the same kinds of things. Those cars you broke into, those people you stole from…you picked people you didn’t like, eh? You picked the rich handsome stuck-up snobs who annoyed you.”

My teeth chattered harder. “I never killed anyone.”

“Oh, please.” Loki stepped back, examining me with a look of disappointment. “It’s only a matter of degree. So I killed a god. Big deal! He went to Helheim and became an honored guest in my daughter’s palace. And my punishment? You want to know my punishment?”

“You were tied on a stone slab,” I said. “With poison from a snake dripping on your face. I know.”

“Do you?” Loki pulled back his cuffs, showing me the raw scars on his wrists. “The gods were not content to punish me with eternal torture. They took out their wrath upon my two favorite sons—Vali and Narvi. They turned Vali into a wolf and watched with amusement while he disemboweled his brother Narvi. Then they shot and gutted the wolf. The gods took my innocent sons’ own entrails…” Loki’s voice cracked with grief. “Well, Magnus Chase, let’s just say I was not bound with ropes.”

Something in my chest curled up and died—possibly my hope that there was any kind of justice in the universe. “Gods.”

Loki nodded. “Yes, Magnus. The gods. Think about that when you meet Thor.”

“I’m meeting Thor?”

“I’m afraid so. The gods don’t even pretend to deal in good and evil, Magnus. It’s not the Aesir way. Might makes right. So tell me…do you really want to charge into battle on their behalf?”

The ship trembled under my feet. Fog rolled across the deck.

“Time for you to go,” Loki said. “Remember what I said. Oh, and have fun getting mouth-to-mouth from a goat.”

“Wait…what?”

Loki wiggled his fingers, his eyes full of malicious glee. Then the ship dissolved into gray nothingness.