Chapter 29
Butterflies flitted through Charlie’s stomach as she pulled the Bronco into the school parking lot, one hand on the steering wheel, the other clutching a large, triple-shot oat milk latte. Despite her complete lack of sleep, she didn’t feel tired at all.
She felt nervous as hell.
She didn’t know why. Technically, she should feel relieved; they’d made it to OET weekend without another attack by Rattatosk. The kids were leaving Silver Shores, which also meant leaving the murder danger zone.
Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Rattatosk knew exactly what they were doing and that he was somehow going to hitch a ride.
With a sigh, Charlie shifted the car into park and opened the driver’s side door.
Henry scampered down her leg and leapt to the ground, landing deftly on the pavement.
Charlie slid out after him. Lou and Abigail slammed the passenger doors and headed around to the back of the car, where Mason had already popped the trunk that held their overnight bags.
Of course, there was one other reason that could explain the butterflies in her stomach. A reason that had nothing to do with the bloodthirsty squirrel beast lurking around town.
She’d spent far too long getting ready that morning. Normally, she grabbed jeans and whatever clean shirt sat on the top of the pile, but today, she’d struggled to choose an outfit. As her hand hovered over a loose black blouse, a statement Abigail once made had popped into her head:
“Heather gray,” Abigail had said firmly during their first trip shopping together. “Heather gray is your color. There are swirls of it in your eyes. Wearing it will only enhance them. Trust me.”
Back then, Charlie had only laughed and kept pawing through the rack of sweaters before her.
She’d never particularly cared about her wardrobe.
She liked to keep things simple: dark jeans or black leggings, a top of any color that wasn’t too bright.
Easy. No way to go wrong. She already owned gray clothing; why did the specific shade matter?
But that morning, as she stood above her T-shirt drawer, fingering the steel necklace at her collarbone and staring down into the sea of blacks and blues and neutrals, she’d felt a flash of disappointment that she hadn’t taken Abigail’s advice.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she’d said out loud. “Who could you possibly be trying to impress?”
Henry, who had been running his usual circles on the bedroom floor, sent an answer into her mind right away:
ELIAS
Charlie had glared down at him. “That is not true,” she’d said. “Say it again and I’ll step on you.”
He’d only stuck out his tongue.
But now, when she heard the telltale roar of Elias’s convertible engine and glanced over her shoulder to find him turning into the parking lot—sunglasses on, hair tousled—her earlier certainty wavered disturbingly.
Gods he looked good.
He pulled into the spot beside the Bronco. “Morning.” He grabbed his backpack from the passenger seat and leapt gracefully over the convertible door, before pressing a button to close the top. “Everyone ready for a thrilling weekend of identifying western Michigan’s various flora and fauna?”
“I know I am,” said Lou, appearing at Charlie’s side and throwing an arm over her shoulder. “But it has less to do with education and more to do with Mason and his buddies driving up to the Gut Tuesday night and burying enough beer in the sand to drown an entire cavalry of horses.”
“That sounds a bit excessive,” Abigail said, coming to stand beside Elias with her overnight bag over one shoulder and frowning. “We’re going to be a long way from any hospital. If anyone gets too drunk—”
“—then Charlie will save them with her new god powers,” Lou finished. “Easy peasy.”
Charlie raised an eyebrow at her best friend. “That’s not really how it works.”
“It is in my mind. Now.” Lou pulled her arm from Charlie’s shoulder and clapped her hands together. “Let’s review. What’s the plan for tonight?”
“First, we build an enormous raft stocked with black coffee and college applications,” said Mason, popping up next to Lou with his duffel bag over one shoulder and hers over the other.
“That should be enough to lure Abigail aboard. Then, when she’s deep in one of the essays, we untie the ropes attaching it to the dock and—”
“Lights out is at ten p.m.,” Abigail interrupted, shooting Mason a stern look as she recited the schedule that she had group texted to the entire junior and senior class the night before.
“The chaperones aren’t supposed to drink, but because they’re suburban moms, they usually end up splitting three bottles of wine around the campfire and passing out by midnight.
At twelve thirty, if the coast is clear, we sneak out of the tents and head over to the Gut. ”
“Excellent.” Lou beamed at them. “Thanks to Elias and Mason, us juniors should have no trouble getting spots on the senior dock.”
“Safety is key,” Charlie said. “I know we’re heading away from the area Rattatosk has been targeting, but who’s to say he won’t decide to follow our buses north? In squirrel form, he’ll blend right into the forest.”
“Don’t trust any adorable fluffy things that offer me candy if I get into their white van,” Lou said. “Check.”
“I’m serious, Lou,” said Charlie. “Rattatosk wants Loki’s children dead.
He doesn’t seem to know who Loki’s children are, exactly, but what’s to stop him from murdering every teenager he finds until he gets it right?
And what better opportunity to do so than when we’re all tipsy in the middle of nowhere? ”
“Charlie,” said Mason. “Relax. We have a cute gnome with a Tasmanian Devil alter ego, a shadow demon, and a human who can blow shit up with her mind. We’ll be fine.”
“That’s not really what I—” she started.
“Plus.” Mason reached out and squeezed his sister’s shoulder. “We’re headed away from the danger, remember? We’ll be far safer in the Gut than we are here.”
Charlie exhaled. Mason gave her shoulder one last squeeze, then dropped his hand and pulled out his phone.
“Regardless,” Charlie said, looking around at the rest of the group, “does everyone have their gear?” She didn’t say the knives Sophie gave you because, to her knowledge, Elias still didn’t know that they had more than one Valkyrie blade, and it was the only advantage they had if he shifted into mare form and turned on them.
Although, if Charlie were being honest, she was starting to doubt that outcome more and more.
“Yeah, yeah.” Lou patted the side pocket of her bag. “I brought, like, three different weapons. Which took up way too much space, by the way. I almost had to leave behind the crop top I’m planning to wear tonight.”
“God forbid,” said Abigail dryly.
“All I’m saying is that we’re ready. If anything happens, we’re ready.” Lou grinned. “Though, personally, I don’t—”
“Guys,” said Mason, cutting Lou off. His voice was hollow. He was staring down at his phone, but his face was pale white, like he’d seen a ghost.
“What?” Charlie asked, dread gathering deep in her belly. “What is it?”
“It’s…” He swallowed, not looking up from the screen.
“I follow r/SpookyMichigan on Reddit, right? It’s this thread where people post scary shit they see around the state.
Naturally most of it is bogus, but I figured it would be a good way to monitor for sightings of magical Asgardian stuff, too.
Just now, I was scrolling through the feed and saw a post with the headline ‘Bigfoot Spotted in Silver Shores, MI?,’ so I had to click on it, obviously, and… ”
He turned his phone around to face the group.
Charlie’s stomach dropped to her feet.
Nothing could have prepared her for the creature on Mason’s phone screen.
It wasn’t anything like the “Bigfoot sightings” she’d seen in the past, usually on silly TikTok or YouTube videos.
Those were always blurry images of hairy, oversize men lit by the greenish glow of night vision goggles. But this …
This was a nightmare.
The photo showed an empty road late at night.
There were no houses, mailboxes, or anything else lining the road.
Only the dark shapes of trees, but above them the moon was full and bright.
The light it cast was enough to reveal a figure standing a stone’s throw down the road, just outside the tree line.
This “Bigfoot” was unlike anything Charlie had seen before.
It was huge. Nine or ten feet tall, at least—it was hard to tell for certain—and shaped roughly like a man, but hunched over, crawling on all fours.
Its arms and legs were long and spindly, like that of a spider, but threaded through with what appeared to be pulsing muscles.
The limbs ended in long, razor-sharp claws that dug into the dirt on the side of the road.
Its back was hunched toward the sky. Stringy black hair grew from its head, thin and dirty, like that of a half-rotten corpse.
And its face. Gods, its face was awful. Mostly mouth, a gaping hole filled with long, jagged teeth and topped off with two tiny yellow eyes.
And on its forehead, dim but unmistakably there …
A glowing red swirl.
“Sweet baby Balder,” Lou whispered.
“Fucking Hel,” said Abigail.
Elias, voice rough, murmured, “Rattatosk.”
Though Charlie had known that Rattatosk was supposed to be terrifying, part of her hadn’t really believed it. His primary form was that of a squirrel, for the gods’ sake. How bad could any other form he took possibly be?
But she’d been wrong. Gods had she been wrong. This creature leering out at them from Mason’s screen was so much worse than anything she’d imagined. It could rip her apart in seconds.
She touched the back pocket of her jeans, where her lucky cards rested, snug as always, as if their slowly deteriorating paper could somehow give her strength and safety.