Thor's Serpents (17 page)

“Is that… a phoenix?” Reyna asked. “Do they have those in Norse myth?”

No. The only kind of flaming birds…

Matt swallowed. He remembered being in Hel when a bird had swooped at them. A chicken, Baldwin had said, and Fen had laughed, but that’s exactly what it was. A giant soot-red rooster. One of three that would herald the coming of Ragnarök. That was the one that would alert the dead. The second, Fjalar, would alert the giants in their realm, and Matt presumed that had already happened. Then the third would alert—

The burning rooster threw back its head and let out a crow, so loud they both stumbled back, hands to their ears.

“Gullinkambi,” Matt whispered.

The cat leaped through the hole and ran to the dresser, hissing with its fur on end.

“Kitty!” the little boy cried, running after it.

“No!” his mother shouted.

Matt dove for the child, but the toddler darted past. Gullinkambi rose: wings flying out, flame shooting from every burning feather, the walls igniting with a
whoosh.

Matt dropped his hammer and shield and ran for the boy. He scooped him up as the child’s mother screamed behind them. Matt wheeled toward the hole in the wall, but it was covered in flame. The fire was everywhere, engulfing the walls and the ceiling, lines shooting across the floor.

“Matt!” his uncle yelled.

“Working on it!” Matt shouted back. He handed the boy to Reyna. Then he snatched up the shield and hammer. The flames beat in, the heat unbearable, and the boy was howling, drowning out Matt’s uncle and Reyna.

A wall of flame blocked the path back to the hole. The only other way out…

Matt saw the door just as the cat ran to it, dodging fire.

“Wrong way!” Reyna shouted. There was a reason they’d been unable to come in through that door. It was a solid rectangle of flame.

The cat yowled. Matt looked from the wall of fire to the flaming door. Then he threw Mjölnir. Threw it as hard as he could. The hammer crashed through the door, ripping it off its hinges.

That works
, Reyna mouthed. Clutching the child to her chest, she started running for the door. Matt yanked her back as flames swallowed the opening, the doorjamb still on fire, the flames powered by magic now, burning hot and fast, devouring everything in their path.

He looked at Gullinkambi.

Are you supposed to alert me that Ragnarök is coming? Or stop me from making it that far?

The rooster only settled in, its dark eyes fixed on Matt, those eyes telling him the beast was neutral on the matter. It was merely the messenger, and if it set the room on fire and
Matt couldn’t survive that, well, then he was hardly ready to fight the Midgard Serpent, was he?

Matt looked at Reyna. Her eyes were closed, lips moving, trying to cast a spell, but whatever she was doing, it wasn’t working.

He thought of the fire Jotunn. Snow. Rain would work, too, but both required a sky for it to fall from. He looked at the burning ceiling. Nope. As he was about to look down, a chunk fell, heading right for Reyna. He pulled her out of the way, her eyes flying open as the chunk hit her shoulder. The boy shrieked as her shirt caught fire. Reyna put the child down fast. Matt smacked out the fire, hitting her hard enough for her to stumble, but when he tried to steady her, she grabbed him instead. Another chunk of flaming ceiling landed beside them.

“Matt!” his uncle called again.

“Still working on it!”

Matt wheeled on the door, his frustration surging, and when it did, he threw Mjölnir, as if reflexively lashing out. The hammer sailed through the flaming door and back into his hand, red hot, making him hiss through his teeth.

That won’t help. It can’t knock out fire. I need to—

The answer came in a flash, and he swung the hammer again, this time into his other hand, sliding the shield strap up on his arm. With his right hand free, he made a fist. Then he threw the other Hammer. The invisible one. It hit the
flame and the fire withdrew. It lasted only a few seconds before flame swallowed the doorway again.

“Okay,” Matt said. “You’ve got a five-second window. Can you do it?”

“I will.”

Holding the boy again, Reyna got as close as she could to the door. Matt threw his Hammer, and she ran as soon as his hand shot out, and he tried to shout for her to hold on, to be sure it worked, but she was already racing through the flames. The Hammer blast hit the door. The fire recoiled. Reyna and the boy ran through.

Matt readied the Hammer again. He bent, prepared to sprint, then threw it and—

Nothing happened.

Out of juice.

“Matt!” It was Reyna now.

He tried again. Nothing. He was about to give it a third shot when a huge chunk of ceiling fell. He spun out of the way, only to step into a fire, slip, and barely avoid another falling piece of ceiling.

He swung Mjölnir back into his right hand. Then he lifted the shield, hunkered down, and ran, his shield raised to block his face. But that was all it blocked, the flames swallowing the rest of him as he sprinted through the door. He felt the incredible heat. Smelled the flames, inhaled them and smelled them and thought,
I’m dead
. But he kept
going, running through to the next room and hitting the floor. He rolled fast. Something enveloped him, and all four limbs shot out to ward it off, but he realized it was a blanket, dropped over him, his uncle patting out the fire, saying “Hold still, Matt. Just hold still.”

Matt did hold still. For about three seconds. Just long enough to be sure he was no longer a human torch. Then he pushed off the blanket and got to his feet.

“You heard Gullinkambi?” he said.

Uncle Pete nodded.

“Then we need to get these people out of here, fast, because I have someplace I need to be.”

After they made sure the rescued families were safe, they returned to his uncle’s house, where they washed up and Alan got them something to eat. No one said much. Matt had told Owen about Gullinkambi, but he’d only nodded, as if he’d heard the rooster—or already knew what was coming. With Owen, either was equally possible.

After they ate, Uncle Pete announced, “I’d like to speak to my nephew,” which even Reyna knew meant
alone.

They went inside the study. Uncle Pete closed the door. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?”

His uncle gave a short laugh. “Everything. I’m sorry I
wasn’t part of your life, and I’m sorry that when we finally do meet, it’s under the worst possible circumstances. But more than that, right now, I’m sorry you need to go through this.”

Matt nodded. There wasn’t anything to say, really. No undoing what had been done. No stopping Ragnarök.

“Ever since I got your dad’s message, I’ve been looking for a loophole.” His uncle gestured at the paper-strewn table. “I’ve been trying to figure out if someone else can take your place. Namely me. But every reference I’ve found to the prophecy says no. I thought maybe I could try, but there’s one”—he lifted an old book and opened it to a marked page—“that says no one except the champions can step on the battlefield. If they try, it’ll be trouble for their side.”

“A penalty,” Matt said.

“Right. So…”

“It needs to be me, and we can’t take the chance of putting someone else in my place. It’s okay. I’m…” He glanced down at his hammer and shield. “I won’t say I’m ready, but I have what I need. I can’t get any more ready. Not in time. The next step is finding the battlefield. The Norns said you’ll show me where that is.”

“That’s up to you.”

“But—but I have no idea where to go.”

“I mean it’s up to you where the battle will be held. The descendants choose.” Uncle Pete pulled an atlas from the shelf. “And we’d better do it fast.”

A
side from the obvious bad timing of Laurie’s arrival while he was talking to Astrid, her appearance complicated things. On one hand, Fen really wanted to whoop in joy. She was here and apparently still speaking to him. On the other hand, she couldn’t stay. He wasn’t going to try to persuade her to fight
against
Thorsen. Matt needed help if he was going to win, stop the Midgard Serpent to save the world and all that.

Obviously something had alerted his pack to Laurie’s arrival, because
wulfenkind
in both wolf and person shape were headed toward him. Fen straightened his spine and squared his shoulders with more self-assurance than he felt.
More than a few of his pack members were watching with a mix of curiosity and hostility on their faces.

It wasn’t safe for her to be here—or for Baldwin.

“You don’t belong here,” Fen told Laurie. “Go away!”

“Neither do you, you… you… nitwit!” She stepped forward and poked him in the shoulder, hard.

Baldwin stayed at her side, but he shot an unreadable look at Fen and said, “Hi.”

A sudden growl just beside Fen’s left side made him look over his shoulder, where he found Hattie snarling as if she was ready to bite someone, probably his cousin.

“She has a weapon,” Hattie muttered. “She brought it here.”

Her gaze was low, and without even looking Fen knew what she’d seen. Still, he looked in the direction of her glare and saw the bone bow in his cousin’s hand. It wasn’t upraised, but it was in her hand and could be lifted in a blink.

This day just gets better and better.

If she raised the bow, there would be a flurry of violence that he wasn’t entirely sure he could stop. She was an intruder in their camp; worse yet, she was an
armed
intruder.

“No one touches her,” Fen yelled. “Anyone who does will be exiled.”

Growls and grumbles greeted his words.

“What about him?” someone called.

“I’m impervious,” Baldwin answered cheerfully. “
And
just back from the dead.”

“As expected,” a very unwelcome voice said. Astrid had to draw the attention to herself. She couldn’t just stay silent and hidden.

Fen winced as a hurt look crossed Baldwin’s face. Astrid’s involvement was like adding gasoline to a fire. “Not now,” he barked.

“
You!
” Laurie half screamed, half snarled. Her bow hand tightened on the magical weapon, and she started to straighten her arm.

Fen caught her wrist. “No.”

He couldn’t help but flinch at the look of pure betrayal in Laurie’s eyes.

“Why?” she whispered, and he knew it wasn’t just about this moment. There were a number of questions in those three letters.
Why was he here? Why was he defending the enemy? Why hadn’t he talked to her? Why was he a loser now?

All he could say was, “This is where I belong now.”

“
Why?
Why are you here with them? You owe me some answers, Fenrir.”

“It’s not that simple,” he started.

“Guys?” Baldwin’s voice interrupted them.

Fen and Laurie both turned to look at Baldwin.

“The wolves are growling… and more of them are actually wolves now. The evil one there”—he gestured toward Astrid—“makes me nervous, and Laurie looks like she’s
going to start firing those arrows any minute now. Do you think we can talk somewhere else?”

Fen dropped his gaze to where his hand was still wrapped around Laurie’s wrist and then back to meet her eyes. “Please?”

Silently, she nodded, and he felt her relax under his grip, no longer fighting to raise her arm and the weapon in it.

“Step back, everyone.” Fen glanced behind him.

They snarled and growled a bit, but they listened.

As they retreated, Fen told her, “I won the pack from Skull. I need to stay here and lead them.”

“Are you…” Laurie shook her head. “I’m not even going to ask if you’re crazy. Clearly, you are. They are trying to end the world, Fen. Did you forget everything?”

He took a calming breath. “As their alpha, I
have
to do what’s in their best interest.” He wished he’d taken the time to explain their heritage a little more, so she understood. The best he could say for now was, “I have no choice. It’s magic.”

“No. You will not stay here. You listen to me”—Laurie poked his shoulder again—“you are coming back with me right now.”

Astrid stepped forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with Fen. “He has a role to play in the great battle. We all do.”

Laurie snapped her attention to Astrid. “
You
do not talk to me.” If she could’ve hissed or snarled, he was pretty sure
she would’ve. That look of sheer fury that was on Laurie’s face never boded well.

Astrid is a dragon. My cousin is yelling at a dragon.

“You need to leave, Laurie,” Fen said, trying to defuse the situation. “Go back to Thorsen and—”

“Fine.” Laurie opened a portal quicker than he’d ever seen her do it. Apparently, fury made her faster. Then with a kick to the pink-haired girl’s legs, she shoved Astrid through it.

As Astrid fell through, Laurie looked at Baldwin and said, “Grab him.”

“Sorry, man,” Baldwin said cheerily, and threw himself into Fen, propelling them through the portal.

Before Fen opened his eyes, he already knew where his cousin had taken them: to Thorsen. He didn’t know what town this was at first, or what ruins of a town it was, but he knew who would be there. He looked around at what he quickly realized was Mitchell, SD. Shakily, Fen came to his feet and looked not at the one-eyed boy staring at Laurie in obvious disapproval, but at Matt.

The mix of relief and fear was a familiar one at this point. It’s how he’d felt when Matt learned that Fen was supposed to turn him over to the enemy, how he’d felt when he was standing before his Aunt Helen and the then-dead Baldwin, and how Fen had felt when he’d won his fight with Skull. Familiar wasn’t the same as
good
, though.

“We need to talk,” Fen told Matt.