Chapter 25
After dinner, Charlie and Mason went upstairs to do homework while their mom settled onto the living room couch for one of her nightly singing-competition shows.
Charlie and Mason chatted easily on the way up the stairs, reminiscing about Abigail’s poorly contained excitement when the car wash broke a thousand dollars in profit.
“I swear to God,” Mason said, “I thought she was going to have a fit, trying to hold in that smile.”
“I know,” Charlie agreed as they reached the landing of the second floor. “She doesn’t know how to celebrate. If she actually gets into Columbia, she’ll probably be like, Excellent, now I can make an exhaustive list of everything I’ll need to pack in five months.”
Mason laughed, heading toward his bedroom. “Night, Charlie.”
“Night,” she said, reaching out for her doorknob.
As her fingers brushed the cool metal, she paused. Curled her fingers back into her palm, hesitating. Her fist hovered there for several seconds, floating an inch or two away.
Then Charlie spun on her heel and ran for Mason’s door.
She caught it right as it was about to slam shut. “Wait,” she said, yanking it back open and sticking her head inside.
Mason, who was halfway to his closet, turned around, eyes wide with surprise. “What are—”
“Come tomorrow,” she said.
“Come where?”
“To the forest. To train with Elias and me.”
At the mention of Elias’s name, Mason’s face darkened. “No.”
“Mason,” she stepped closer to him. “It’s true. It’s all true. I—we—can do things no human could ever dream of. It’s incredible. It’s also exhausting, and scary, and very, very confusing. But it’s worth it. I promise.”
“I don’t care,” he said. “You say Loki is our father. Fine. That doesn’t change that he abandoned us, Charlie. Left Mom to raise us alone. If these powers really came from him, I want nothing to do with them.”
“That doesn’t make sense, Mace. Inheriting magic is just like inheriting brown eyes or athleticism. Would you really give up baseball if you knew that it was Loki who gave that ability to you?”
He looked away. “Loki didn’t give us anything. That’s the point.”
Charlie sighed. She could tell she wasn’t going to change her brother’s mind. Not tonight, anyway. “That’s your decision, and I have to respect it,” she said. “But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“I won’t.” He gave her a tired smile. “But I appreciate the gesture.”
Charlie nodded. Mason had already turned away, headed for his closet.
She dug her nails into her palms. There was one more thing she needed to say, but she was terrified.
She had no idea how her brother was going to react.
She sucked in a breath of air, held it for three seconds, then blurted out, “There’s one more thing. ”
Mason looked back. “What’s that?”
“I’m sorry.”
Confusion wrinkled his forehead, but when he realized what she must have been apologizing for, he shook his head. “Don’t—”
“I’m sorry, Mason,” she plowed on. “I know I haven’t said it out loud, because I’m a stubborn asshole, but I’m saying it now: I’m sorry for not telling you about Sophie.
I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was protecting you by not telling you anything about Asgard.
Even once you ate the eyaerberry, it didn’t feel right.
I wanted to wait for the proper moment to tell you, but—” She inhaled, recognizing that she was making excuses, and cut herself off.
“But I see now that there never would’ve been a right time.
Not really. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for every unnecessary second you spent in pain, believing she was dead. ”
Mason was frozen, head half-turned, eyes darting between his sister and the Kendrick poster on his wall. He looked like a deer that had spotted a mountain lion and was trying to decide whether to flee swiftly or to just disappear slowly into the foliage.
Charlie paused, waiting to see if her brother would respond. When he didn’t, she tapped her legs awkwardly. “Well,” she said. “That’s all.” Then, with a small smile, Charlie left, shutting his door behind her.
An hour later, Charlie was seated at the desk in her bedroom, trying to focus on her history homework but worrying over her conversation with Mason instead. Her laptop was open, an untouched worksheet glowing on its screen. Outside the window, Henry was having a nap in the flower box.
Had she made a mistake bringing up Sophie to Mason tonight? At dinner, she’d felt a thawing, like the wall of ice he’d put up was finally melting away, but maybe she’d pushed too hard too quickly.
Anxiety was still churning through her mind when her phone lit up with an incoming three-way Facetime call.
When Charlie answered, two boxes filled the screen. Abigail’s face was in the top box, Lou’s on the bottom. Both girls were in their bedrooms. Abigail was at her desk, like Charlie, braids piled in a knot atop her head. Lou was lying in bed, a bag of potato chips open on her chest.
“I figured it out,” said Abigail without preamble.
“Figured what out?” Lou asked, popping a chip into her mouth. “How to send fan mail to the Valkyrie headquarters?”
“No, you troll.” Abigail rolled her eyes. “The riddle. I figured out the riddle.”
Charlie sat up straighter in her chair. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly. Listen to this.” Abigail leaned forward, picking something up off her desk.
“I kept getting stuck on the first bit. Evil lava. It’s such a bizarre phrase.
No amount of Googling turned up anything useful.
But tonight, I started this book—” She held up to the camera a massive, cloth-bound hardcover with the words The Ancient Tales of Iceland printed on its front.
“—and in the introduction, the author talks about the unusual geology of the country. He mentions the Blue Lagoon, which is the most famous hot spring in Iceland, and which is surrounded by a lava field called Illahruan.” A mischievous smile pulled at her lips.
“Guess what Illahruan means in English?”
“No way,” said Lou.
“Yes.” Abigail cackled. “Evil lava!”
“So, what does that mean?” Charlie asked, heart pounding. “Is the Seal in Iceland?”
“Not quite.” A thump sounded as Abigail set the book back on her desk.
She stood, starting to pace as she spoke.
“Once I knew that the riddle had to do with Iceland, and is in fact probably originally translated from the Icelandic language, my search took a whole new turn. I translated the whole riddle, going phrase by phrase.” She was really getting warmed up, hands gesticulating as she walked back and forth across her bedroom floor.
“When that didn’t pan out, I tried different variations of each phrase—you know how imprecise Google translate can be—and eventually came across an old book of Icelandic poetry called Tunglsljós dans, which, in English, means moonlit dance. ”
“As in, dance in the moonlight,” Lou filled in. “Damn. I really thought it would have to do with that horny song from the seventies.”
Abigail laughed. She was in her element, and it made her whole face shine with joy. “Not quite.”
“Were you able to get a copy of the book?” Charlie asked. Her heart was pounding so loud she could hear it in her ears.
“Well, I called Bethany to see if the library had it in stock—”
Lou chuckled. “Only you would be on a first-name basis with the town’s head librarian.”
Abigail rolled her eyes but kept going. “—and she said no. It’s a super rare book, apparently.
When she checked her system, it wasn’t in circulation at any public library in Michigan.
In fact, the only copy she could locate at all was a PDF version in U of M’s database, which is behind the university paywall. ”
Lou groaned.
“Shit.” Charlie sighed. “So, it’s a dead end?”
“Never underestimate my perseverance, ladies.” Abigail grinned. “Remember that private school guy I dated for a hot second last year?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Lou. “The tech whiz who kept trying to sell you different NFTs?”
“The very same. Well, I texted him asking if he knew how to get behind a database paywall, and he said, obviously.”
“He responded?” Lou asked. “I’m shocked. He was so butt-hurt when you dumped him.”
Abigail pursed her lips. “I may or may not have opened the conversation by hinting that I was in the market for some blockchain artwork.”
Lou and Charlie burst out laughing.
“You demon,” said Lou, grinning. “Go on.”
“Anyway. Long story short: he got me in. I found the PDF of Tunglsljós dans—a version translated into English, thankfully. And on page 57 is a poem titled … drumroll please…”
Lou and Charlie dutifully slapped whatever was closest to them—for Lou, it was the headboard, for Charlie, her desk—until Abigail said:
“Impossible but true.”
Charlie’s mouth fell open. “No way.”
“Yes way.” Abigail lowered her phone from her face, and Charlie heard the sound of her fingers tapping the screen. “I’m sending the poem to you both now.”
“Abigail Moore,” said Lou. “You are an evil genius.”
Abigail raised her phone back up to her face and beamed. “I know.”
A photo came through in their group chat. Charlie clicked the notification, and it expanded on her screen.
Impossible but True: A Poem
Burnt-orange sand,
burnt-orange sky,
bodies transparent
with years gone by.
Castle on the sea,
towers in the mist.
Try as they might,
no creature can resist.
Lou groaned loudly. “It’s another riddle?”
Abigail’s answering voice was gleeful. “It’s another riddle.”