The Hammer of Thor

Amir shook his head. “No, I—I want to.”

I understood what he meant. The guy’s world had just been cracked open. He needed to do something familiar to steady his nerves. He craved the comfort of deep-frying chickpea patties, and really, who was I to argue?

The Transportation Building was closed for the night, but Amir had the keys. He let us in, opened Fadlan’s Falafel, and prepped the kitchen to make us a late dinner/really early breakfast of amazingness.

Meanwhile, Alex, Sam, and I sat at a table in the darkened food court, listening to the clanging of pots and fryer cages echo through the vast space like metallic bird cries.

Sam looked dazed. She tipped over a saltshaker and wrote letters in the white grains—whether Norse or Arabic, I couldn’t tell.

Alex kicked up his rose high-tops on the opposite chair. He twiddled his thumbs, his two-toned eyes scanning the room. “So, this sorcerer giant…”

“Utgard-Loki,” I said.

A lot of folks in the Norse cosmos had warned me that names had power. You weren’t supposed to utter them unless you had to. Me, I preferred to wear names out like hand-me-down clothes. That seemed the best way to drain the power from them.

“He’s not my favorite giant.” I glanced around the floor, making sure there were no talking pigeons nearby. “A few months ago, he showed up right here. Tricked me into giving him my falafel. Then he turned into an eagle and dragged me across the rooftops of Boston.”

Alex drummed his fingers on the table. “And now he wants you to come visit his bowling alley.”

“You know the really messed-up part? That’s the least crazy thing that has happened to me this week.”

Alex snorted. “So why is he called Loki?” He looked at Sam. “Any relation to us?”

Sam shook her head. “His name means Loki of the Outlands. No connection to…our dad.”

Not since the Great Alderman Disaster of that afternoon had the word dad invoked such negative feelings in a conversation. Looking at Alex and Sam sitting across from each other, I couldn’t imagine two people more different. Yet they both wore exactly the same expression: sour resignation that they shared the god of trickery as their pop.

“On the bright side,” I said, “Utgard-Loki didn’t strike me as a big fan of the other Loki. I can’t see the two of them working together.”

“They’re both giants,” Alex pointed out.

“Giants fight among each other just like humans,” Sam said. “And, judging by what we learned from Heimdall, getting the hammer back from Thrym will not be easy. We need all the advice we can get. Utgard-Loki is crafty. He might be the right person to figure out a way to foil Dad’s plans.”

“Fight Loki with Loki,” I said.

Alex ran his hand through his shock of green hair. “I don’t care how tricky and clever your giant friend is. In the end, we’re going to have to go to that wedding and get the hammer. Which means we’ll have to face Loki ourselves.”

“We?” I asked.

“I’m going with you,” Alex said. “Obviously.”

I remembered my dream of Loki in Alex’s apartment: It’s such a simple request. Having two children of Loki at the wedding, both of whom could be controlled by Loki’s slightest whim…that was not my definition of a joyous occasion.

Samirah drew another design in the salt. “Alex, I can’t ask you to go.”

“You’re not asking,” Alex said, “I’m telling. You brought me into the afterlife. This is my chance to make it count. You know what we need to do.”

Sam shook her head. “I—I still don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Alex threw his hands in the air. “Are you even related to me? Where’s your sense of recklessness? Of course it’s not a good idea, but it’s the only way.”

“What idea?” I asked. “What way?”

Clearly I had missed a conversation between the two of them, but neither looked anxious to fill me in. Just then, Amir came back with the food. He set down a heaping platter of lamb kebab, dolma, falafel, kibbeh, and other heavenly yummies, and I remembered my priorities.

“You, sir,” I said, “are a powerful entity.”

He almost smiled. He started to sit next to Sam, but Alex snapped his fingers. “Uh-uh, lover boy. Chaperone says no.”

Amir looked mortified. He moved to sit between Alex and me.

We dug in. (Actually, I may have done most of the digging in.)

Amir bit off the corner of a pita-bread triangle. “It doesn’t seem possible…food tastes the same. The fryer fries at the same temperature. My keys work in the same locks. And yet…the whole universe has changed.”

“Not everything has changed,” Sam promised.

Amir’s expression was wistful, as if remembering a good experience from childhood that couldn’t be recaptured.

“I appreciate it, Sam,” he said. “And I do see what you mean about the Norse deities. They aren’t gods. Anyone who can take so many selfies with a sword and a ram’s horn…” He shook his head. “Allah may have ninety-nine names, but Heimdall isn’t one of them.”

Alex grinned. “I like this guy.”

Amir blinked, apparently unsure what to do with the compliment. “So…what now? How do you top a trip across the Bifrost?”

Sam gave him a faint smile. “Well, tonight, I have to have a conversation with Jid and Bibi to explain why I’ve been out so late.”

Amir nodded. “Will you…try to show them the Nine Worlds, as you did for me?”

“She can’t,” Alex said. “They’re too old. Their brains aren’t as flexible.”

&nbs

p; “Hey,” I said. “No need to be rude.”

“Just being honest.” Alex chewed on a piece of lamb. “The older you are, the harder it is to accept that the world might not be the way you thought it was. It’s a miracle that Amir managed to see through all the mist and the glamour without going insane.” He kept his eyes on me a moment longer than seemed necessary.

“Yes,” Amir muttered. “I feel very fortunate not to be insane.”

“Alex is right, though,” Sam said. “When I talked to my grandparents this morning, the conversation they’d had with Loki was already fading from their memory. They knew they were supposed to be angry at me. They remembered that you and I had been arguing. But the details…” She made a poof gesture with her fingertips.

Amir rubbed his chin. “My dad was the same. He only asked if you and I had patched up our differences. I suspect…we could tell them anything about where we were tonight, couldn’t we? Any mundane excuse, and they would believe it more readily than the truth.”

Alex elbowed him. “Don’t get any ideas, lover boy. I’m still your chaperone.”

“No! I only meant…I would never—”

“Relax,” Alex said. “I’m messing with you.”

“Ah.” Amir did not seem to relax. “And after tonight? What then?”

“We go to Jotunheim,” Sam said. “We have a giant to interrogate.”

“You’re traveling to another world.” Amir shook his head in amazement. “You know, when I arranged those flying lessons with Barry, I…I thought I was expanding your horizons.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Foolish of me.”

“Amir, that was the kindest gift—”

“It’s all right. I’m not complaining. I just…” He let out a sharp exhale. “What can I do to help you?”

Sam put her hand flat on the table, her fingers stretched toward Amir like an air version of holding hands. “Just trust me. Believe what I promised.”

“I do,” he said. “But there must be something else. Now that I can see everything…” He waved a plastic fork at the ceiling. “I want to support you.”

“You are,” Sam assured him. “You’ve seen me as a Valkyrie, and you haven’t run away screaming. You don’t know how much that helps. Just stay safe for me, please, until we get back. Be my anchor.”

“Happily. Although…” He gave her a grin so sheepish it smelled like Heimdall. “I haven’t actually seen you as a Valkyrie. Do you think…?”

Sam got to her feet. “Alex, Magnus, I’ll meet you in the morning?”

“The statue in the park,” I said. “See you there.”

She nodded. “Amir, two days hence, this will all be over. I promise.” She rose into the air and disappeared in a golden flash.

The plastic fork fell out of Amir’s hand. “It’s true,” he said. “I can’t believe it.”

Alex grinned. “Well, it’s getting late. There is one more thing you could do for us, Amir, buddy.”

“Of course. Anything.”

“How about a doggie bag for this falafel?”

We Visit My Favorite Mausoleum

THE NEXT MORNING, I woke in my own bed in Valhalla, unrefreshed and definitely not ready to go. I packed a duffel with camping supplies and leftover falafel. I checked in across the hall with T.J.—who handed me the Skofnung Sword and promised to remain on standby in case I needed cavalry reinforcements or help charging enemy fortifications. Then I met up with Alex Fierro in the lobby and we headed out to Midgard.

Alex agreed to make one stop with me before we rendezvoused with the others. I didn’t really want to, but I felt obliged to break into Randolph’s Back Bay mansion and check in on my murderous, traitorous uncle. Because, you know, that’s what family is for.