The Hammer of Thor

makes him good company.”
Mallory Keen sheathed her twin knives. “Well, that’s fascinating, I’m sure.

But shouldn’t you Aesir be doing something productive now, like…oh, finding
Loki and tying him up again?”

The girl is right, Vidar signed. Time is wasting.
“Listen to brave Vidar, girl,” said Thor. “Loki’s capture can wait for another
day. Right now we should be celebrating the return of my hammer!”
That’s not what I said, Vidar signed.
“Besides,” Thor added, “I don’t need to search for the scoundrel. I know
exactly where he’s going.”
“You do?” I asked. “Where?”
Thor pounded me on the back—fortunately with his hand and not his
hammer. “We’ll talk all about it back at Valhalla. Dinner is on me!”

Squirrels in the Window May Be Larger Than They
Appear

I LOVE IT when gods offer to pay for a dinner that’s already free.
Almost as much as I love assault squads that show up after the assault.
I never got the chance to complain about it, though. Once we got back to

Valhalla—thanks to Thor’s very overcrowded chariot—we were given a
celebration feast that was wild even by Viking standards. Thor paraded around
the feast hall holding Mjolnir above his head, grinning and yelling “Death to our
enemies!” and generally causing a commotion. Party horns were blown. Mead
was guzzled. Piñatas were cracked open with the mighty Mjolnir and candy was
eaten.

Only our little group sulked, clustered around our table and halfheartedly
accepting the pats on the back and compliments from our fellow einherjar. They
assured us we were heroes. Not only had we retrieved Thor’s hammer, we had
destroyed an entire wedding party of evil, badly-dressed earth giants!

Nobody complained about Blitz and Hearth’s presence. Nobody paid much
attention to our new friend Vidar, despite his strange footwear. The Silent One
lived up to his name and sat with us silently, occasionally asking Hearthstone
questions in a form of sign language I didn’t recognize.

Heimdall left early to get back to the Bifrost Bridge. There were important
selfies to be taken. Meanwhile, Thor partied like a madman, bodysurfing over
crowds of einherjar and Valkyries. Whatever he had wanted to tell us about
Loki’s location, he seemed to have forgotten, and I wasn’t going to get anywhere
near him in that mob.

My only consolation: some of the lords at the thanes’ table also looked
uneasy. Every once in a while Helgi the manager would scowl at the crowd as if
he wanted to scream what I was thinking: STOP CELEBRATING, YOU IDIOTS!
LOKI IS FREE!

Maybe the einherjar were choosing not to worry about it. Maybe Thor had
assured them, too, that it was a problem easily fixed. Or maybe they were
celebrating because Ragnarok was near. That idea scared me the most.

As dinner ended, Thor rode off in his chariot without even acknowledging
us. He bellowed to the assembled host that he had to hurry to the borders of
Midgard and demonstrate his hammer’s power by blasting some giant armies to
sizzly bits. The einherjar cheered and then began streaming out of the feast hall,
no doubt heading to smaller but even wilder parties.

Vidar said his good-byes after a short conversation with Hearthstone in that
strange language. Whatever he said, the elf chose not to share it with us. My
hallmates offered to stay with me, but they had been invited to an after-party
after-party, and I told them to go. They deserved some fun after the tedium of
digging their way into Loki’s cavern.

Sam, Alex, Blitz, and Hearth accompanied me to the elevators. Before we
got there, Helgi appeared and grabbed my arm.

“You and your friends need to come with me.”
The manager’s voice was grim. I got the feeling we would not be receiving
trophies and coupons for our brave deeds.
Helgi led us through passageways I’d never seen before, up staircases into
the far reaches of the hotel. I knew Valhalla was big, but each time I went
exploring, I was newly amazed. The place went on forever—like Costco or a
chemistry lecture.
At last we arrived at a heavy oaken door with a brass plaque that read
MANAGER.
Helgi pushed open the door and we followed him inside to an office.
Three of the walls and the ceiling were paneled in spears—polished oak
shafts tipped with gleaming silver points. Behind Helgi’s desk, the back wall
was one huge plate glass window overlooking the endless swaying branches of
the World Tree.
I’d seen a lot of different views from the windows of Valhalla. The hotel had
access to each of the Nine Worlds. But I’d never seen a view straight into the
tree. It made me feel disoriented, like we were floating in its branches—which,
cosmically speaking, we were.
“Sit.” Helgi waved to a semicircle of chairs on the visitors’ side of the desk.
Sam, Alex, Blitz, Hearth, and I got comfortable with lots of squeaking leather
and creaking wood. Helgi plopped himself down behind his huge mahogany

and creaking wood. Helgi plopped himself down behind his huge mahogany
desk, which was empty except for one of those desk-toy thingies with the
hanging silver ball bearings that you can knock back and forth.

Oh…and the ravens. At either front corner of the desk perched one of Odin’s
twin ravens, both of them glaring at me as if trying to decide whether to assign
me detention or feed me to the trolls.

Helgi leaned back and steepled his fingers. He would’ve looked intimidating
if it weren’t for his roadkill explosion of hair and the leftover bits of feast beast
in his beard.

Sam fiddled nervously with her ring of keys. “Sir, what happened in Loki’s
cave…it wasn’t my friends’ fault. I take full responsibility—”

“The Helheim you do!” Alex snapped. “Sam did nothing wrong. If you’re
going to punish anyone—”

“Stop!” Helgi ordered. “No one is getting punished.”
Blitzen exhaled with relief. “Well, that’s good. Because we didn’t have time
to return this to Thor, but honestly we meant to.” Hearthstone produced Thor’s
two-by-four hall-pass key and set it on the manager’s desk.
Helgi frowned. He slipped the pass into his desk drawer, which made me
wonder how many others he had in there.
“You are here,” said the manager, “because Odin’s ravens asked for you.”
“Huginn and Muninn?” Thought and Memory, I recalled from the Hotel
Valhalla Guide.
The birds made that weird croaking noise ravens love to make, as if
regurgitating the souls of all the frogs they’d eaten over the centuries.
They were much larger than normal ravens—and creepier. Their eyes were
like gateways into the void. Their feathers were a thousand different shades of
ebony. When the light hit them, runes seemed to glisten in their plumage—dark
words rising out of a sea of black ink.
Helgi tapped his desk toy. The balls started swinging and hitting each other
with an annoying click, click, click.
“Odin would be here,” said the manager, “but he is tending to other matters.
Huginn and Muninn represent him. As a bonus”—Helgi leaned forward and
lowered his voice—“the ravens don’t show motivational PowerPoints.”
The birds squawked in agreement.
“Now, down to business,” Helgi said. “Loki has escaped, but we know where
he is. Samirah al-Abbas…your next mission as Odin’s Valkyrie in charge of
special operations will be to find your father and put him back in chains.”
Samirah lowered her head. She didn’t look surprised—more like she’d lost
the final appeal for a death sentence she’d been fighting her entire life.
“Sir,” she said, “I will do as I’m ordered. But after what happened the last

“Sir,” she said, “I will do as I’m ordered. But after what happened the last
two times I faced my father, the ease with which he controlled me—”

“You can learn to fight it,” Alex interrupted. “I can help—”
“I’m not you, Alex! I can’t…” Sam gestured vaguely at her sister, as if to
indicate all the things Alex was that Sam could never be.
Helgi brushed some food scraps out of his beard. “Samirah, I didn’t say it
would be easy. But the ravens say you can do it. You must do it. And so you
shall.”
Sam stared at the ball bearings bouncing back and forth. Click, click, click.
“This place where my father went…” she said. “Where is it?”
“The Eastern Shores,” Helgi said. “Just as the old stories say. Now that Loki
is free, he has gone to the docks, where he hopes to complete construction of
Naglfar.”
Hearthstone signed: The Ship of Nails. That is not good.
I felt cold…and seasick.
I remembered visiting that ship in a dream, standing on the deck of a Viking
longboat the size of an aircraft carrier and made entirely from the toenails and
fingernails of the dead. Loki had warned me that when Ragnarok began, he
would sail the ship to Asgard, destroy the gods, steal their Pop-Tarts, and
otherwise cause mass chaos.
“If Loki is free, is it already too late?” I asked. “Isn’t his unbinding one of
the things that signals the beginning of Ragnarok?”
“Yes and no,” Helgi said.
I waited. “Am I supposed to pick one?”
“The unbinding of Loki does help start Ragnarok,” Helgi said. “But nothing
says this escape is his last and final escape. It’s conceivable you could recapture
him and put him back, thus postponing Doomsday.”
“Like we did with Fenris Wolf,” Blitz muttered. “That was a piece of cake.”
“Exactly.” Helgi nodded enthusiastically. “Cake.”
“I was being sarcastic,” Blitz said. “I suppose they don’t have sarcasm in
Valhalla any more than they have decent barbers.”
Helgi reddened. “See here, dwarf—”
He was interrupted by a huge brown-and-orange shape slamming into his
window.
Blitzen fell out of his chair. Alex leaped straight up and clung to the ceiling
in the form of a sugar glider. Sam rose with her ax in hand, ready for battle. I
valiantly took cover down in front of Helgi’s desk. Hearthstone just sat there,
frowning at the giant squirrel.
Why? he signed.
“It’s all right, everyone,” Helgi assured us. “It’s just Ratatosk.”

“It’s all right, everyone,” Helgi assured us. “It’s just Ratatosk.”
The words just Ratatosk did not compute. I’d been chased through the World
Tree by that monstrous rodent. I’d heard his soul-searing, scolding voice. It was
never all right when he showed up.
“No, really,” Helgi insisted. “The window is soundproof and squirrel-proof.
The beast just likes to stop by and taunt me sometimes.”
I peeked over the top of the desk. Ratatosk was barking and screeching, but
only the faintest murmur came through the glass. He gnashed his teeth at us and
pressed his cheek against the window.
The ravens didn’t seem bothered. They glanced over as if to say, Oh, it’s
you, then went back to preening their feathers.
“How do you stand it?” Blitzen asked. “That—that thing is deadly!”
The squirrel puffed his mouth against the glass, showing us his teeth and
gums, then licked the window.
“I’d rather know where he is than not,” Helgi said. “Sometimes I can tell
what’s going on in the Nine Worlds just by observing the squirrel’s level of
agitation.”
Judging from Ratatosk’s current state, I guessed some serious stuff was
going down in the Nine Worlds. To alleviate our anxiety, Helgi rose, lowered the
blinds, and sat back down.
“Where were we?” he said. “Ah, yes, cake and sarcasm.”
Alex dropped from the ceiling and returned to her regular form. She’d
changed out of her wedding dress earlier and was back in her old diamond-
pattern sweater-vest. She tugged at it casually as if to say, Yes, I totally meant to
turn into a sugar glider.
Sam lowered her ax. “Helgi, about this mission…I wouldn’t know where to
start. Where the ship is docked? The Eastern Shores could be on any world.”
The manager turned up his palms. “I don’t have those answers, Samirah, but
Huginn and Muninn will brief you privately. Go with them to the high places of
Valhalla. Let them show you thoughts and memories.”
To me, that sounded like some trippy vision quest with Darth Vader
appearing in a foggy cave.
Sam didn’t look too happy about it, either. “But, Helgi—”
“There can be no debate,” the manager insisted. “Odin chose you. He has
chosen this entire group because—” He paused abruptly and put a finger to his
ear. I’d never realized Helgi wore an earpiece, but he was obviously listening to
something.
He glanced up at us. “Apologies. Where was I? Ah, yes, all five of you were
present when Loki escaped. Therefore, all five of you will have a part to play in
recapturing the outlaw god.”

recapturing the outlaw god.”
“We broke it, we bought it,” I muttered.
“Exactly!” Helgi grinned. “Now that that’s settled, you’ll have to excuse me.

There’s been a massacre in the yoga studio, and they need clean mats.”

Daisies in the Shape of an Elf

AS SOON AS we left the office, the ravens led Sam up another staircase. She
glanced back at us uneasily, but Helgi had been pretty clear that the rest of us
weren’t invited.

Alex turned on her heel and marched off in the opposite direction.
“Hey,” I called. “Where—?”
She looked back, her eyes so angry I couldn’t finish my question.
“Later, Magnus,” she said. “I have to…” She made a strangling gesture with
her hands. “Just later.”
That left me with Blitzen and Hearthstone, who were both swaying on their
feet.
“You guys want to—?”
“Sleep,” Blitzen said. “Please. Immediately.”
I led them back to my room. The three of us camped in the grass in the
middle of my atrium. It reminded me of the old days, sleeping in the Public
Garden, but I’m not going to tell you I was nostalgic for being homeless.
Homelessness is not something any sane person would ever be nostalgic about.
Still, like I’ve said, it was a lot simpler than being an undead warrior who chased
fugitive gods across the Nine Worlds and conducted serious conversations while
a monstrous squirrel made faces at you in the window.
Hearthstone conked out first. He curled up, sighed gently, and went right to
sleep. When he was still, despite his black clothes, he seemed to blend into the
shadows of the grass. Maybe it was elf camouflage—a remnant of the time when
they were one with nature.
Blitz wedged his back against a tree and stared at Hearth with concern.

Blitz wedged his back against a tree and stared at Hearth with concern.
“We’re going to Blitzen’s Best tomorrow,” he told me. “Reopen the shop.
Spend a few weeks trying to regroup and get back to…whatever normal is.
Before we have to go and find…” The prospect of taking on Loki again was so
daunting he couldn’t even finish the thought.
I felt guilty that I hadn’t considered Hearthstone’s grief the past few days. I’d
been too preoccupied with Thor’s stupid TV hammer.
“That’s a good idea,” I said. “Alfheim was rough for him.”
Blitz clasped his hands near where the Skofnung Sword had pierced him.
“Yeah, I’m worried about Hearth’s unfinished business there.”
“I wish I’d been more help to him,” I said. “To both of you.”
“Nah, kid. Some kinds of help you have to do for yourself. Hearth…he’s got
a dad-shaped hole in his heart. You can’t do anything about that.”
“His dad will never be a nice guy.”
“No kidding. But Hearth has to come to terms with that. Sooner or later, he’ll
have to go back and face him…get his inheritance rune back one way or another.
When and how that will happen, though…” He shrugged helplessly.
I thought about my Uncle Randolph. How did you decide when someone
was irretrievably lost—when they were so evil or toxic or just plain set in their
ways that you had to face the fact they were never going to change? How long
could you keep trying to save them, and when did you give up and grieve for
them as though they were dead?
It was easy for me to advise Hearthstone on his father. The dude was way
past horrible. But my own uncle, who had gotten me killed, stabbed my friend,
and freed the god of evil…I still couldn’t quite bring myself to write him off.
Blitzen patted my hand. “Whatever happens, kid, we’ll be ready when you
need us. We’ll see this through and get Loki back in chains, even if I have to
make those chains myself.”
“Yours would be a lot more fashionable,” I said.
Blitz’s mouth twitched. “Yeah. Yeah, they would. And don’t feel guilty, kid.
You did good.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. What had I accomplished? I felt like I’d spent the
last six days scrambling around doing damage control, trying to keep my friends
alive, trying to minimize the fallout from Loki’s plot.
I imagined what Samirah would say: That’s enough, Magnus. She’d
probably point out that I’d helped Amir. I’d managed to heal Blitzen. I’d gotten
Thor’s assault team into the giants’ lair to retrieve the hammer. I’d bowled a
really mean game of doubles with my partner the African bush elephant.
Still…Loki was free. He’d hurt Sam. He’d crushed her confidence badly.

And then there was that little thing about all the Nine Worlds now at risk of
being thrown into chaos.

“I feel terrible, Blitz,” I admitted. “The more I train, the more powers I
learn…It just seems like the problems get ten times bigger than what I can
handle. Is that ever going to stop?”

Blitz didn’t answer. His chin rested on his chest. He was quietly snoring.
I put a blanket over him. I sat for a long time watching the stars through the
tree branches and thinking about holes in people’s hearts.
I wondered what Loki was doing right now. If I were him, I would be
planning the most massive revenge spree the Nine Worlds had ever seen. Maybe
that’s why Vidar, the god of vengeance, had seemed so gentle and quiet. He
knew it didn’t take much to start a chain reaction of violence and death. One
insult. One theft. One severed chain. Thrym and Thrynga had nursed a grudge
for generations. They’d been used by Loki not just once, but twice. And now
they were dead.
I don’t remember falling asleep. When I woke the next morning, Blitz and
Hearth were gone. A bed of daisies bloomed where Hearthstone had slept—
maybe it was his way of saying good-bye, thank you, see you soon. I still felt
depressed.
I showered and got dressed. Just brushing my teeth felt ridiculously normal
after the last few days. I was about to head to breakfast when I noticed a note
slipped under my door, in Samirah’s elegant cursive:

Some ideas. Thinking Cup? I’ll be there all morning.

I stepped into the hallway. I liked the idea of getting out of Valhalla for a
little while. I wanted to talk to Sam. I wanted good mortal coffee. I wanted to sit
in the sunshine and eat a poppy seed muffin and pretend that I wasn’t an einherji
with a fugitive god to catch.

Then I looked across the hall.
First I needed to do one more difficult and dangerous thing. I needed to
check on Alex Fierro.

Alex opened the door and greeted me with a cheerful “Get lost.”
Wet clay spackled Alex’s face and hands. I glanced inside and saw the

project sitting on the potter’s wheel. “Dude…”
I stepped inside. For some reason, Alex let me.
All the shattered pottery had been cleaned up. The racks were filled with new

pots and cups, just drying and still unglazed. On the wheel stood a huge vase,

pots and cups, just drying and still unglazed. On the wheel stood a huge vase,
about three feet tall, shaped like a trophy.

I grinned. “For Sif?”
Alex shrugged. “Yeah. If it turns out okay.”
“Is this gift ironic, or serious?”
“You’re going to make me choose? I dunno. It just…felt right to do. At first
I hated her. She reminded me of my stepmother, all fussy and uptight. But…
maybe I should cut her some slack.”
Over on the bed lay the gold-and-white wedding dress, still spattered with
blood, the hem caked in dust and spotted with acid stains. Nevertheless, Alex
had smoothed it out very carefully, like it was something worth keeping.
“Ahem. Magnus, you had some reason to stop by?”
“Yeah…” I found it hard to concentrate. I stared at the rows of pots, all
perfectly shaped. “You made all these last night?”
I picked one up.
Alex took it out of my hands. “No, you can’t touch it, Magnus. Thanks for
asking, Magnus. Yes, most of these were last night. I couldn’t sleep. The
pottery…it makes me feel better. Now you were about to say why you came
over and then quickly get out of my hair?”
“I’m going to meet Sam in Boston. I thought—”
“That I’d want to come with? No, thanks. When Sam is ready to talk, she
knows where to find me.”
Alex marched back to the wheel, picked up a scraper, and started smoothing
the sides of the trophy cup.
“You’re angry with her.”
Alex kept scraping.
“That’s a pretty impressive vase,” I offered. “I don’t know how you can
shape something that large without it falling apart. I tried to use a wheel in, like,
fifth grade art class. The best I could manage was an off-center lump.”
“A self-portrait, then?”
“Ha, ha. Just saying I wish I could do something this cool.”
No immediate reply. Maybe because I hadn’t left much room for a witty
insult.
Finally, Alex glanced up warily. “You heal people, Magnus. Your dad is
actually a helpful god. You’ve got this whole…sunshiny, warm, friendly thing
going on. That’s not enough cool stuff for you?”
“I’ve never been called sunshiny before.”
“Oh, please. You pretend like you’re all tough and sarcastic or whatever, but
you’re a big softie. And to answer your question, yes, I’m mad at Sam. Unless
she changes her attitude, I’m not sure I can teach her.”

she changes her attitude, I’m not sure I can teach her.”
“To…resist Loki.”
Alex picked up a lump of clay and squeezed it. “The secret is, you have to be

comfortable changing. All the time. You have to make Loki’s power your
power.”

“Like your tattoo.”
Alex shrugged. “Clay can be shaped and reshaped, over and over, but if it
gets too dry, if it sets…then there’s only so much you can do with it. When it
gets to that point, you’d better be sure it’s in the shape you want it to have
forever.”
“You’re saying Sam can’t change.”
“I don’t know if she can, or even if she wants to. But I do know this: if she
won’t let me teach her how I resist Loki, if she won’t at least try—then the next
time we face him, we’re all dead.”
I took a shaky breath. “Okay, good pep talk. I guess I’ll see you at dinner
tonight.”
When I got to the door, Alex said, “How did you know?”
I turned. “Know what?”
“When you walked in, you said dude. How did you know I was male?”
I thought about it. At first I wondered if it had just been a throwaway
comment—a non-gender-specific dude. The more I considered, though, the more
I realized I’d genuinely picked up on the fact that Alex was male. Or rather,
Alex had been male. Now, after we’d been talking for a few minutes, she
definitely seemed like a she. But how I’d sensed that, I had no idea.
“Just my perceptive nature, I guess.”
Alex snorted. “Right.”
“But you’re a girl now.”
She hesitated. “Yeah.”
“Interesting.”
“You can leave now.”
“Will you make me a trophy for my perceptiveness?”
She picked up a pottery shard and threw it at me.
I closed the door just as it shattered on the inside.

Let’s Try This Whole “Meeting for Coffee” Thing Again

JUDGING FROM the line of empty cups, Sam was on her third espresso.
The idea of approaching an armed Valkyrie with three espressos in her

system was usually not advisable, but I walked up slowly and sat across from
her. She didn’t look at me. Her attention was on the two raven feathers in front
of her. It was a windy morning. Sam’s green hijab rippled around her face like
waves on a beach, but the two raven feathers didn’t flutter.

“Hey,” she said.
It was a lot friendlier than get lost. Sam was so different from Alex, but there
was something similar in their eyes—a sense of urgency churning just below the
surface. It wasn’t easy thinking about Loki’s inheritance battling inside my two
friends, trying to take control.
“You got feathers,” I noted.
She touched the one of the left. “A memory. And this one”—she tapped the
right—“a thought. The ravens don’t really speak. They stare at you and let you
stroke their plumage until the right feathers drop out.”
“So what do they mean?”
“This one, the memory…” Sam ran a finger down the barbs. “It’s ancestral.
From my distant forefather, Ahmad Ibn Fadlan Ibn al-Abbas.”
“The guy who traveled among the Vikings.”
Sam nodded. “When I took the feather, I could see his journey like I was
there. I learned a lot of things he never wrote about—things he didn’t think
would go over well in the court of the caliph of Baghdad.”
“He saw Norse gods?” I guessed. “Valkyries? Giants?”

“And more. He also heard legends about the ship Naglfar. The place where
it’s docked, the Eastern Shores, lies on the border between Jotunheim and
Niflheim—the wildest, most remote part of either world. It’s completely
inaccessible, locked in ice except for one day of the year—Midsummer.”

“So that’s when Loki will plan to set sail.”
“And that’s when we’ll have to be there to stop him.”
I craved an espresso, but my heart was racing so fast I doubted I needed one.
“So what now? We just wait until summer?”
“It’s going to take time to find his location. And before we can leave, we’ll
need to prepare, train, make sure we can beat him.”
I remembered what Alex had said: I’m not sure I can teach her.
“We’ll make it happen.” I tried to sound confident. “What did the second
feather tell you?”
“That’s a thought,” Samirah said. “A plan to move forward. To reach the
Eastern Shores, we’ll need to sail through the farthest branches of the World
Tree, through the old Viking lands. That’s where giant magic is strongest, and
where we’ll find the sea passage to Naglfar’s dock.”
“The old Viking lands.” My fingers tingled. I wasn’t sure whether it was
with excitement or fear. “Scandinavia? I’m pretty sure there are flights from
Logan.”
Sam shook her head. “We’ll have to go by sea, Magnus. The way the
Vikings came here. Just as you can only enter Alfheim through the air, we can
only reach the wild borderlands of the Eastern Shores through salt water and
ice.”
“Right,” I said. “Because nothing is ever easy.”
“No, it’s not.”
Her tone was distracted, wistful. It made me realize I was being kind of
insensitive. Sam had a lot of other problems going on besides her evil father.
“How’s Amir?” I asked.
She actually smiled. In the wind, her hijab seemed to shape-shift from waves
to grassy fields to smooth glass.
“He’s very good,” she said. “He accepts me. He doesn’t want to cancel our
engagement. You were right, Magnus. He’s a lot stronger than I gave him credit
for.”
“That’s great. What about your grandparents, and his dad?”
Samirah laughed drily. “Well, we can’t have everything. They remember
nothing about Loki’s visits. They know that Amir and I have made up. For now,
all is well. I’m back to making excuses about why I have to rush off in the
middle of class or after school. I’m doing a lot of ‘tutoring.’” She put the word in
air quotes.

air quotes.
I remembered how weary she’d looked when I met her here six days ago. If

anything, she looked more tired now.
“Something’s got to give, Sam,” I told her. “You’re running yourself

ragged.”
“I know.” She put her hand over the feather of thought. “I’ve promised Amir

—once we recapture Loki, once I am sure that Ragnarok has been averted, at
least for the present, then I’m done.”

“Done?”
“I’m retiring from the Valkyries. I’ll devote myself to college, completing
my pilot’s training, and…marriage, of course. When I’m eighteen, as we’ve
planned.”
She was blushing like…well, like a bride.
I tried to ignore the hollow feeling in my chest. “And that’s what you want?”
“It’s entirely my choice. Amir supports it.”
“Valkyries can resign?”
“Of course. It’s not like being…ah…”
An einherji, she meant. I was one of the reborn. I could travel the worlds. I
had amazing strength and stamina. But I would never again be a normal human.
I would stay as I was, the same age forever—or until Ragnarok, whichever came
first. (Certain restrictions may apply. Read your service agreement for full
details.)
“Magnus, I know I brought you into this weird afterlife,” she said. “It’s not
fair of me to leave you, but—”
“Hey.” I touched her hand just briefly. I knew that wasn’t Sam’s thing, but
she and my cousin Annabeth were the closest thing I would ever have to sisters.
“Samirah, I just want you to be happy. And, you know, if we can keep the Nine
Worlds from burning before you leave, that would be nice, too.”
She laughed. “All right, then, Magnus. It’s a deal. We’ll need a ship. We’ll
need a lot of things, actually.”
“Yeah.” Salt and ice seemed to be making themselves at home in my throat
already. I remembered our encounter in January with the sea goddess Ran—how
she’d warned me that I would be in trouble if I ever tried to sail the seas again.
“First we need advice,” I said. “About sailing across magical waters, fighting
weird sea monsters, and not dying at the hands of a bunch of angry aquatic gods.
Strangely enough, I know just the person to talk to.”
“Your cousin,” Sam guessed.
“Yeah,” I said. “Annabeth.”

I Call In Some Favors

TEXTING AND calling didn’t work, so I sent a raven.
When I told T.J. that I was having trouble getting in touch with my cousin,

he looked at me like I was dense. “Just send a bird, Magnus.”
Stupid me, I’d spent months in Valhalla not realizing I could rent a raven, tie

a message to its leg, and send it to find anybody in the Nine Worlds. The whole
thing seemed a little too Game-of-Thrones-y to me, but whatever. It worked.

The raven came back promptly with Annabeth’s reply.
We coordinated train rides and met halfway between Boston and Manhattan,
in New London, Connecticut. Annabeth was there before me, standing on the
platform in jeans and sandals and a long-sleeved purple shirt with a laurel-
wreath design and the letters SPQR: UNR.
She hugged me until my eyeballs bugged out like Thrynga’s. “I was so
relieved,” she said. “I never thought I’d be glad to see a raven at my window,
but…Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I had to suppress a nervous laugh, because okay was a stupid
word to describe how I felt. Also, it was obvious Annabeth was not okay, either.
Her gray eyes seemed heavy and weary, less like storm clouds today, and more
like fog banks that couldn’t quite lift.
“A lot to talk about,” I said. “Let’s get some lunch.”
We got a table on the deck of the Muddy Waters café. I supposed the place
was named after the blues musician, but it seemed a little ominous considering
the waters I was getting ready to sail through. Annabeth and I sat in the
sunshine, ordered Cokes and cheeseburgers, and watched the sailboats heading
out to Long Island Sound.

out to Long Island Sound.
“It’s been crazy in New York,” Annabeth said. “I thought communications

were only down among demigods…I mean my kind, the Greek and Roman, but
then I realized I hadn’t heard from you, either. I’m sorry that didn’t dawn on me
sooner.”

“Wait, why are communications down?”
Annabeth poked at the table with her fork tines. Her blond hair was loose
around her shoulders today. She seemed to be growing it out. It caught the
sunlight in a way that reminded me of Sif…but I tried to shake that idea. I knew
Annabeth would destroy anyone who dared call her a “trophy” anything.
“There’s a crisis happening,” Annabeth said. “A god fell to earth as a human.
These evil Roman emperors are back, causing trouble.”
“Oh, so just the usual, then.”
She laughed. “Yeah. Somehow these evil Romans found a way to mess up
communication among demigods. Not just the usual magical kinds of talking,
but also cell phones, Wi-Fi, you name it. I’m surprised your raven made it to me.
I would’ve come up to Boston to check on you sooner, but…” She shrugged
helplessly. “I’ve had my hands full.”
“I totally get it,” I said. “I probably shouldn’t be distracting you. You’ve got
enough to deal with…”
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Are you kidding? I
want to help. What’s going on?”
It felt so good to tell her everything. I remembered how weird it had been the
first time we’d compared notes—her with the Greek gods, me with the Norse.
We’d both left that day feeling like we’d overcharged our batteries and our
brains were melting.
Now, at least, we had some kind of framework to build on. Sure, it was all
still ridiculously crazy. If I stopped to think about it too long, I would start
giggling like a lunatic. But I could tell Annabeth my problems without worrying
that she wouldn’t believe me. It made me realize how much Sam must appreciate
being able to be totally truthful with Amir.
I told Annabeth about Loki’s escape and Sam’s idea for tracking him down
—about an icy harbor at the farthest borders of Jotunheim and Niflheim (or
Scandinavia, whichever came first).
“A boat trip,” she said. “Oh, boy. That brings back painful memories.”
“Yeah. I remembered what you said about sailing to Greece and…yeah.” I
didn’t want to bring up all that horrible stuff again. She had cried when she told
me about the things that had happened to her during their voyage, especially how
she and her boyfriend, Percy, had fallen into some underworld place called
Tartarus.

Tartarus.
“Look,” I said, “I don’t want to put any pressure on you. I just thought…I

don’t know…maybe you’d have some ideas, some pointers.”
A train rumbled through the station. My view of the bay flickered between

the rail cars like an old, out-of-alignment reel-to-reel movie.
“You say you have problems with sea gods,” Annabeth said.
“Yeah, Ran…this bag lady with a net. And I guess her husband hates me too

now. His name is Aegir.”
Annabeth tapped her forehead. “I need more memory storage for all these

names. Okay, I don’t know how this works with multiple sea gods. Are the
Norse ones just in the north and Poseidon is in the south, or do they do, like, a
time-share program…?”

I remembered an old cartoon with sheepdogs punching time clocks as they
came in for different shifts to keep the wolves away from the flocks. I wondered
if gods had punch cards like that, or maybe they all worked from home. Could
sea gods telecommute?

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I’d like to avoid getting all my friends
drowned in a tsunami as soon as we leave Boston.”

“But you’ve got some time?”
“Until this summer,” I said. “We can’t leave while the seas are frozen or
something.”
“Good. We’ll be done with school by then, finally graduated.”
“I don’t go to school. Oh…you mean we as in you and your boyfriend?”
“Exactly. Assuming he passes his semester and does okay on his
standardized tests, assuming these evil Roman emperors don’t kill us all and
destroy the world….”
“Yeah. Loki would be seriously ticked off if Roman emperors destroyed the
world before he got to start Ragnarok.”
“We should have enough time to help you, at least compare notes, maybe
call in some favors.”
“Um, what favors?”
Annabeth smiled. “I don’t know the ocean very well, but my boyfriend does.
I think it’s time you met Percy.”

AEGIR—lord of the waves
AESIR—gods of war, close to humans
ALICARL—Norse for fatso
ARGR—Norse for unmanly
AVENTAIL—a chain mail curtain around the base of a helmet, meant to protect
the neck
BARROW—the tomb of a wight
BERSERKER—a Norse warrior frenzied in battle and considered invulnerable
BIFROST—the rainbow bridge leading from Asgard to Midgard
BILSKIRNIR—Bright Crack, Thor and Sif’s palace
BINT—Arabic for daughter
BRUNNMIGI—a being who urinates into wells
DRAUGR—Norse zombies
EINHERJAR (EINHERJI, sing.)—great heroes who have died with bravery on Earth;
soldiers in Odin’s eternal army; they train in Valhalla for Ragnarok, when the
bravest of them will join Odin against Loki and the giants in the battle at the end
of the world
FENRIS WOLF—an invulnerable wolf born of Loki’s affair with a giantess; his
mighty strength strikes fear even in the gods, who keep him tied to a rock on an
island. He is destined to break free on the day of Ragnarok.
FOLKVANGER—the Vanir afterlife for slain heroes, ruled by the goddess Freya
FREY—the god of spring and summer; the sun, the rain, and the harvest;
abundance and fertility, growth and vitality. Frey is the twin brother of Freya
and, like his sister, is associated with great beauty. He is lord of Alfheim.
FREYA—the goddess of love; twin sister of Frey; ruler of Folkvanger
FRIGG—goddess of marriage and motherhood; Odin’s wife and the queen of
Asgard; mother of Balder and Hod

GAMALOST—old cheese
GINNUNGAGAP—the primordial void; a mist that obscures appearances
GJALLAR—Heimdall’s horn
HEIMDALL—god of vigilance and the guardian of Bifrost, the gateway to Asgard
HEL—goddess of the dishonorable dead; born of Loki’s affair with a giantess
HELHEIM—the underworld, ruled by Hel and inhabited by those who died in
wickedness, old age, or illness
HUGINN AND MUNINN—Odin’s ravens, whose names mean thought and memory,
respectively
HULDER—a domesticated forest sprite
HUSVAETTR—house wight
JORMUNGAND—the World Serpent, born of Loki’s affair with a giantess; his body
is so long it wraps around the Earth
JOTUN—giant
KENNING—a Viking nickname
LINDWORM—a fearsome dragon the size and length of an eighteen-wheeler, with
just two front legs and leathery brown bat-type wings too small for effective
flight
LOKI—god of mischief, magic, and artifice; the son of two giants; adept at magic
and shape-shifting. He is alternately malicious and heroic to the Asgardian gods
and to humankind. Because of his role in the death of Balder, Loki was chained
by Odin to three giant boulders with a poisonous serpent coiled over his head.
The venom of the snake occasionally irritates Loki’s face, and his writhing can
cause earthquakes.
MAGNI AND MODI—Thor’s favorite sons, fated to survive Ragnarok
MEINFRETR—stinkfart
MIMIR—an Aesir god who, along with Honir, traded places with Vanir gods Frey
and Njord at the end of the war between the Aesir and the Vanir. When the
Vanir didn’t like his counsel, they cut off his head and sent it to Odin. Odin
placed the head in a magical well, where the water brought it back to life, and
Mimir soaked up all the knowledge of the World Tree.
MJOLNIR—Thor’s hammer
MORGEN-GIFU—morning gift; a gift from the groom to the bride, given on the
morning after a marriage is consummated. It belongs to the bride, but it is held in
trust by the groom’s family.
MUNDR—bride-price; a gift from the groom to the father of the bride
MUSPELL—fire
NAGLFAR—the Ship of Nails
NØKK—a nixie, or water spirit

NORNS—three sisters who control the destinies of both gods and humans
ODIN—the “All-Father” and king of the gods; the god of war and death, but also
poetry and wisdom. By trading one eye for a drink from the Well of Wisdom,
Odin gained unparalleled knowledge. He has the ability to observe all the Nine
Worlds from his throne in Asgard; in addition to his great hall, he also resides in
Valhalla with the bravest of those slain in battle.
OSTARA—the first day of spring
OTHALA—inheritance
RAGNAROK—the Day of Doom or Judgment, when the bravest of the einherjar
will join Odin against Loki and the giants in the battle at the end of the world
RAN—goddess of the sea; wife of Aegir
RATATOSK—an invulnerable squirrel that constantly runs up and down the World
Tree carrying insults between the eagle that lives at the top and Nidhogg, a
dragon that lives at the roots
RED GOLD—the currency of Asgard and Valhalla
SAEHRIMNIR—the magical beast of Valhalla; every day it is killed and cooked for
dinner, and every morning it is resurrected; it tastes like whatever the diner
wants
SIF—goddess of the earth; mother of Uller by her first husband; Thor is her
second husband; the rowan is her sacred tree
SLEIPNIR—Odin’s eight-legged steed; only Odin can summon him; one of Loki’s
children
SUMARBRANDER—the Sword of Summer
THANE—a lord of Valhalla
THINGVELLIR—field of the assembly
THOR—god of thunder; son of Odin. Thunderstorms are the earthly effects of
Thor’s mighty chariot rides across the sky, and lightning is caused by hurling his
great hammer, Mjolnir.
THRYM—king of the jotun
TREE OF LAERADR—a tree in the center of the Feast Hall of the Slain in Valhalla
containing immortal animals that have particular jobs
TYR—god of courage, law, and trial by combat; he lost a hand to Fenris’s bite
when the Wolf was restrained by the gods
ULLER—the god of snowshoes and archery
URNES—a symbol of two entwined snakes, which signifies change and
flexibility; sometimes a symbol for Loki
UTGARD-LOKI—the most powerful sorcerer of Jotunheim; king of the mountain
giants
VALA—a seer

VALHALLA—paradise for warriors in the service of Odin
VALKYRIE—Odin’s handmaidens, who choose slain heroes to bring to Valhalla
VANIR—gods of nature; close to elves
VIDAR—the god of vengeance; also called the Silent One
WERGILD—blood debt
WIGHT—a powerful undead creature who likes to collect weapons
YGGDRASIL—the World Tree
ZUHR—Arabic for midday prayer

AEGIR AY-gear
AESIR AY-ser
ALF SEIDR ALF SAY-der
ALFHEIM ALF-haym
ALICARL AL-ih-carrl
ARGR ARR-ger
ASGARD AZ-gahrrd
BIFROST BEE-frrohst
BILSKIRNIR BEEL-skeerr-neer
DAGAZ DAH-gahz
DRAUGR DRAW-ger
EINHERJAR/EINHERJI in-HAIRR-yar/in-HAIRR-yee
EHWAZ AY-wahz
FEHU FAY-hoo
FENRIS FEHN-rrihss
FOLKVANGER FOHK-vahn-ger
FREY FRRAY
FREYA FRRAY-uh
FRIGG FRRIHG
GAMALOST GA-ma-lohst
GEBO GIH-bo
GEIRROD GAR-rod
GERD GAIRRD

GINNUNGAGAP GEENG-un-guh-gahp
GJALLAR gee-YALL-ar
HAGALAZ HA-ga-lahts
HEIMDALL HAME-doll
HEL HEHL
HELGI HEL-ghee
HELHEIM HEHL-haym
HUGINN HOO-gihn
HULDER HOOL-dihr
HUNDING HOON-deeng
HUSVAETTR HOOS-veht-tr
ISA EES-ah
JORMUNGAND YOHRR-mun-gand
JOTUN YOH-toon
JOTUNHEIM YOH-tuhn-haym
LAERADR LAY-rrah-dur
KENNING KEN-ning
LINDWORM LIHND-wohrrm
LOKI LOH-kee
MEINFRETR MAYN-frih-ter
MIDGARD MIHD-gahrrd
MIMIR MEE-meer
MJOLNIR MEE’OHL-neer
MODI MOH-dee
MORGEN-gifu MORR-ghen-GIH-foo
MUNDR MOON-der
MUNINN MOON-in
MUSPELL MOO-spel
MUSPELLHEIM MOOS-pehl-haym
NAGLFAR NAHG’L-fahr
NIDAVELLIR Nee-duh-vehl-EER
NIDHOGG NEED-hawg
NIFLHEIM NIHF-uh-haym

NØKK NAWK
NORNS NOHRRNZ
NORUMBEGA nohrr-uhm-BAY-guh
ODIN OH-dihn
OSTARA OH-starr-ah
OTHALA OH-thal-ah
PERTHRO PERR-thrroh
RAGNAROK RAG-nuh-rrawk
RAN RAN
RATATOSK RAT-uh-tawsk
SAEHRIMNIR SAY-h’rrihm-neer
SAMIRAH AL-ABBAS sah-MEER-ah ahl-AH-bahss
SIF SEEV
SLEIPNIR SLAYP-neer
SUMARBRANDER SOO-marr-brrand-der
THINGVELLIR THING-vih-leer
THURISAZ THOORR-ee-sahts
THOR THORE
THRYM THRRIMM
THRYNGA THRRIN-gah
TIWAZ TEE-vahz
TYR TEAR
ULLER OO-lir
URNES OORR-nis
URUZ OOR-oots
UTGARD-Loki OOT-gahrrd-LOH-kee
VALA VAL-uh
VALHALLA Val-HAHL-uh
VALKYRIE VAL-kerr-ee
VANAHEIM VAN-uh-haym
VANIR Vah-NEER
VIDAR VEE-dar
WERGILD WIR-gild

WIGHT WHITE
YGGDRASIL IHG-druh-sihl

THE NINE WORLDS
ASGARD—the home of the Aesir
VANAHEIM—the home of the Vanir
ALFHEIM—the home of the light elves
MIDGARD—the home of humans
JOTUNHEIM—the home of the giants
NIDAVELLIR—the home of the dwarves
NIFLHEIM—the world of ice, fog, and mist
MUSPELLHEIM—the home of the fire giants and demons
HELHEIM—the home of Hel and the dishonorable dead

RUNES (IN ORDER OF MENTION)
FEHU—the rune of Frey
OTHALA—inheritance

DAGAZ—new beginnings, transformations
URUZ—ox
GEBO—gift

PERTHRO—the empty cup
THURISAZ—the rune of Thor

HAGALAZ—hail
EHWAZ—horse, transportation

ISA—ice

Also by Rick Riordan
PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS

Book One: The Lightning Thief
Book Two: The Sea of Monsters
Book Three: The Titan’s Curse
Book Four: The Battle of the Labyrinth
Book Five: The Last Olympian

The Demigod Files
The Lightning Thief: The Graphic Novel
The Sea of Monsters: The Graphic Novel
The Titan’s Curse: The Graphic Novel

Percy Jackson’s Greek Gods
Percy Jackson’s Greek Heroes

THE KANE CHRONICLES
Book One: The Red Pyramid
Book Two: The Throne of Fire
Book Three: The Serpent’s Shadow
The Kane Chronicles Survival Guide
The Red Pyramid: The Graphic Novel
The Throne of Fire: The Graphic Novel

THE HEROES OF OLYMPUS
Book One: The Lost Hero
Book Two: The Son of Neptune
Book Three: The Mark of Athena

Book Four: The House of Hades
Book Five: The Blood of Olympus

The Demigod Diaries
The Lost Hero: The Graphic Novel
MAGNUS CHASE AND THE GODS OF ASGARD
Book One: The Sword of Summer
For Magnus Chase: Hotel Valhalla Guide to the Norse Worlds

THE TRIALS OF APOLLO
Book One: The Hidden Oracle





Click here to order The Trials of Apollo, Book One: The Hidden Oracle

Keep reading for a sneak peek!

Hoodlums punch my face
I would smite them if I could
Mortality blows

MY NAME IS APOLLO. I used to be a god.
In my four thousand six hundred and twelve years, I have done many things.

I inflicted a plague on the Greeks who besieged Troy. I blessed Babe Ruth with
three home runs in game four of the 1926 World Series. I visited my wrath upon
Britney Spears at the 2007 MTV Video Music Awards.

But in all my immortal life, I never before crash-landed in a Dumpster.
I’m not even sure how it happened.
I simply woke up falling. Skyscrapers spiraled in and out of view. Flames
streamed off my body. I tried to fly. I tried to change into a cloud or teleport
across the world or do a hundred other things that should have been easy for me,
but I just kept falling. I plunged into a narrow canyon between two buildings and
BAM!
Is anything sadder than the sound of a god hitting a pile of garbage bags?
I lay groaning and aching in the open Dumpster. My nostrils burned with the
stench of rancid bologna and used diapers. My ribs felt broken, though that
shouldn’t have been possible.
My mind stewed in confusion, but one memory floated to the surface—the
voice of my father, Zeus: YOUR FAULT. YOUR PUNISHMENT.
I realized what had happened to me. And I sobbed in despair.
Even for a god of poetry such as myself, it is difficult to describe how I felt.
How could you—a mere mortal—possibly understand? Imagine being stripped
of your clothes, then blasted with a fire hose in front of a laughing crowd.
Imagine the ice-cold water filling your mouth and lungs, the pressure bruising
your skin, turning your joints to putty. Imagine feeling helpless, ashamed,

completely vulnerable—publicly and brutally stripped of everything that makes
you you. My humiliation was worse than that.

YOUR FAULT, Zeus’s voice rang in my head.
“No!” I cried miserably. “No, it wasn’t! Please!”
Nobody answered. On either side of me, rusty fire escapes zigzagged up
brick walls. Above, the winter sky was gray and unforgiving.
I tried to remember the details of my sentencing. Had my father told me how
long this punishment would last? What was I supposed to do to regain his favor?
My memory was too fuzzy. I could barely recall what Zeus looked like,
much less why he’d decided to toss me to earth. There’d been a war with the
giants, I thought. The gods had been caught off guard, embarrassed, almost
defeated.
The only thing I knew for certain: my punishment was unfair. Zeus needed
someone to blame, so of course he’d picked the handsomest, most talented, most
popular god in the pantheon: me.
I lay in the garbage, staring at the label inside the Dumpster lid: FOR PICK-UP,

CALL 1-555-STENCHY.

Zeus will reconsider, I told myself. He’s just trying to scare me. Any
moment, he will yank me back to Olympus and let me off with a warning.

“Yes…” My voice sounded hollow and desperate. “Yes, that’s it.”
I tried to move. I wanted to be on my feet when Zeus came to apologize. My
ribs throbbed. My stomach clenched. I clawed the rim of the Dumpster and
managed to drag myself over the side. I toppled out and landed on my shoulder,
which made a cracking sound against the asphalt.
“Araggeeddeee,” I whimpered through the pain. “Stand up. Stand up.”
Getting to my feet was not easy. My head spun. I almost passed out from the
effort. I stood in a dead-end alley. About fifty feet away, the only exit opened
onto a street with grimy storefronts for a bail bondsman’s office and a
pawnshop. I was somewhere on the west side of Manhattan, I guessed, or
perhaps Crown Heights, in Brooklyn. Zeus must have been really angry with me.
I inspected my new body. I appeared to be a teenaged Caucasian male, clad
in sneakers, blue jeans, and a green polo shirt. How utterly drab. I felt sick,
weak, and so, so human.
I will never understand how you mortals tolerate it. You live your entire life
trapped in a sack of meat, unable to enjoy simple pleasures like changing into a
hummingbird or dissolving into pure light.
And now, heavens help me, I was one of you—just another meat sack.
I fumbled through my pants pockets, hoping I still had the keys to my sun
chariot. No such luck. I found a cheap nylon wallet containing a hundred dollars

in American currency—lunch money for my first day as a mortal, perhaps—
along with a New York State junior driver’s license featuring a photo of a dorky,
curly-haired teen who could not possibly be me, with the name Lester
Papadopoulos. The cruelty of Zeus knew no bounds!

I peered into the Dumpster, hoping my bow, quiver, and lyre might have
fallen to earth with me. I would have settled for my harmonica. There was
nothing.

I took a deep breath. Cheer up, I told myself. I must have retained some of
my godly abilities. Matters could be worse.

A raspy voice called, “Hey, Cade, take a look at this loser.”
Blocking the alley’s exit were two young men: one squat and platinum
blond, the other tall and redheaded. Both wore oversize hoodies and baggy
pants. Serpentine tattoo designs covered their necks. All they were missing were
the words I’M A THUG printed in large letters across their foreheads.
The redhead zeroed in on the wallet in my hand. “Now, be nice, Mikey. This
guy looks friendly enough.” He grinned and pulled a hunting knife from his belt.
“In fact, I bet he wants to give us all his money.”

I blame my disorientation for what happened next.
I knew my immortality had been stripped away, but I still considered myself

the mighty Apollo! One cannot change one’s way of thinking as easily as one
might, say, turn into a snow leopard.

Also, on previous occasions when Zeus had punished me by making me
mortal (yes, it had happened twice before), I had retained massive strength and
at least some of my godly powers. I assumed the same would be true now.

I was not going to allow two young mortal ruffians to take Lester
Papadopoulos’s wallet.

I stood up straight, hoping Cade and Mikey would be intimidated by my
regal bearing and divine beauty. (Surely those qualities could not be taken from
me, no matter what my driver’s license photo looked like.) I ignored the warm
Dumpster juice trickling down my neck.

“I am Apollo,” I announced. “You mortals have three choices: offer me
tribute, flee, or be destroyed.”

I wanted my words to echo through the alley, shake the towers of New York,
and cause the skies to rain smoking ruin. None of that happened. On the word
destroyed, my voice squeaked.

The redhead Cade grinned even wider. I thought how amusing it would be if
I could make the snake tattoos around his neck come alive and strangle him to
death.

death.
“What do you think, Mikey?” he asked his friend. “Should we give this guy

tribute?”
Mikey scowled. With his bristly blond hair, his cruel small eyes, and his

thick frame, he reminded me of the monstrous sow that terrorized the village of
Crommyon back in the good old days.

“Not feeling the tribute, Cade.” His voice sounded like he’d been eating lit
cigarettes. “What were the other options?”

“Fleeing?” said Cade.
“Nah,” said Mikey.
“Being destroyed?”
Mikey snorted. “How about we destroy him instead?”
Cade flipped his knife and caught it by the handle. “I can live with that. After
you.”
I slipped the wallet into my back pocket. I raised my fists. I did not like the
idea of flattening mortals into flesh waffles, but I was sure I could do it. Even in
my weakened state, I would be far stronger than any human.
“I warned you,” I said. “My powers are far beyond your comprehension.”
Mikey cracked his knuckles. “Uh-huh.”
He lumbered forward.
As soon as he was in range, I struck. I put all my wrath into that punch. It
should have been enough to vaporize Mikey and leave a thug-shaped impression
on the asphalt.
Instead he ducked, which I found quite annoying.
I stumbled forward. I have to say that when Prometheus fashioned you
humans out of clay he did a shoddy job. Mortal legs are clumsy. I tried to
compensate, drawing upon my boundless reserves of agility, but Mikey kicked
me in the back. I fell on my divine face.
My nostrils inflated like air bags. My ears popped. The taste of copper filled
my mouth. I rolled over, groaning, and found the two blurry thugs staring down
at me.
“Mikey,” said Cade, “are you comprehending this guy’s power?”
“Nah,” said Mikey. “I’m not comprehending it.”
“Fools!” I croaked. “I will destroy you!”
“Yeah, sure.” Cade tossed away his knife. “But first I think we’ll stomp
you.”
Cade raised his boot over my face, and the world went black.

RICK RIORDAN, dubbed “storyteller of the gods” by

Publishers Weekly, is the author of five New York Times #1 best-selling series,
including Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard, based on Norse myths. He is
best known for his Percy Jackson and the Olympians books, which bring Greek
mythology to life for contemporary readers. He expanded on that series with two
more: the Heroes of Olympus and the Trials of Apollo, which cleverly combine
Greek and Roman gods and heroes with his beloved modern characters. Rick
also tackled the ancient Egyptian gods in the magic-filled Kane Chronicles
trilogy. Millions of fans across the globe have enjoyed his fast-paced and funny
quest adventures as well as his two #1 best-selling myth collections, Percy
Jackson’s Greek Gods and Percy Jackson’s Greek Heroes. Rick lives in Boston,
Massachusetts, with his wife and two sons. For more information, go to
www.rickriordan.com, or follow him on Twitter @camphalfblood.