Page 59 of Soul of Shadow #1
Charlie and Mason stumbled through the front door of their house at five a.m. exhausted, covered in dirt, and with shredded clothes clinging to their bodies like thieves gripping a windowsill with nothing but their fingertips.
Henry scampered ahead of them, zooming around the entryway in little circles.
One would never have guessed that, less than an hour before, the little guy had nearly died.
My children.
Almost two hours had passed since Loki, Elias, and the Fenrir had vanished, and much had happened in that time.
Charlie, Mason, Abigail, and the Vikings had been able to collect themselves, to check each other for injuries.
Once they were certain no one was dying, Bjorn had scooped an unconscious Lou up from the cave floor and cradled her limp body in his arms. Vidar led the group out of the cave and back through the underground tunnel, with Bjorn bringing up the rear.
When they emerged from the hatch in the beach, it was just past four.
The night sky twinkled innocently above them.
Lake Michigan lapped gently against the sand.
Birds twittered in anticipation of the coming sunrise.
Everything felt so normal, so peaceful. As if they hadn’t almost lost their lives minutes before .
They bid farewell to the Vikings at the tree line, with Bjorn passing Lou’s unconscious body to Mason. Her head lolled over onto his shoulder, auburn hair spilling down his chest. Mason’s face was ghostly pale, and Charlie had a feeling it would remain that way until Lou woke up.
As they went their separate ways, the humans heading into the forest while the Vikings set off down the beach, Charlie heard Bjorn whisper (or what the Viking probably assumed was a whisper but could likely be heard three towns over), “Surely that was enough to get us back into Valhalla, wasn’t it? ”
And as they trudged back to the Bronco, the shock and adrenaline of the night finally started to wear off, and heavy silence settled over them like a stifling wool blanket. Even Abigail, for the first time in her life, had nothing to say.
My children.
My children.
My children.
The words echoed through Charlie’s head on a constant loop, an eerie soundtrack to their journey home.
As they passed the askafroa’s tree, Charlie remembered what she had promised.
She pulled out the Fenrir’s tooth from her pocket and tossed it at the foot of the tree, not bothering to stop and make small talk.
Not even bothering to double-check that it was the right tree. She didn’t have the energy.
Lou awoke just after they’d loaded back into the Bronco, stirring in Mason’s arms, her head cradled in his lap.
She muttered an unintelligible string of words that Charlie recognized from countless sleepovers as her “still mostly asleep” monologue.
At the sound of Lou’s voice, Mason visibly relaxed.
“ Shhh ,” he’d whispered. “It’s okay. Keep sleeping. ”
No one talked during the fifteen-minute drive to Abigail’s house. They played no music, discussed nothing of what had happened. Only once Charlie pulled into her driveway and put the car into park did she finally turn in her seat and look Abigail in the eye.
“When she wakes up,” Charlie said, digging into one of the many pockets of her torn-up dress and pulling out the final eyaerberry, “give her this.”
Abigail had widened her eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Charlie exhaled. “If we could protect her from all of this, I would obviously prefer that. But Lou is better at snooping around than most detectives; if we don’t tell her what’s going on ourselves, she’ll figure it out on her own. And she’ll probably get kidnapped again in the process.”
Abigail glanced at Mason, who was adjusting Lou’s body in his arms, getting ready to carry her to Abigail’s doorstep. When Mason noticed her questioning gaze, he only nodded.
“She’s right,” he said unhappily.
Finally, Abigail gave a small grimace and took the eyaerberry. “Okay.” They got out, and she led Mason up to her front door, opening it and stepping aside to let him pass. He disappeared inside, reemerging a moment later, Lou no longer in his arms.
They drove home in total silence.
And they probably would have entered their home in total silence, too—tired and muddy and battered up—if their mother hadn’t been waiting for them, seated at the foot of the stairs.
The moment they stepped through the door, she leapt to her feet.
Her face was red and puffy. Eyes bloodshot.
Hands balled into fists. She ran toward her children, and for a second, Charlie truly believed that she was going to hit them.
Their mother. Their mother, who liked soapy Korean dramas and smut novels and Saturday brunches with her friends.
Their mother, who had never exhibited even a hint of violence in her life.
Their mother, whom they didn’t know at all.
She didn’t hit them, of course. Instead, she gathered her children into her arms and buried her face in their dirty chests.
“Mason,” she whispered. “Charlie. Oh my God. I thought you were gone. I thought you’d been taken like the other kids, and I… I…” She hiccupped, her voice trailing off as sobs racked her chest. “I thought I’d lost another child. I thought I’d lost… I’d lost you all…”
Neither Charlie nor Mason hugged her back. They stood side by side, arms hanging uselessly. They stayed this way for so long that Charlie was surprised their mom didn’t pull away.
“Mom,” Mason said at last, and Charlie knew. She knew he was going to ask.
Hesitantly, their mom pulled away, her splotchy face warped with confusion. She studied her children, no doubt noticing their shredded clothes, the mud and sand on their shoes.
“Mason?” she said. “What—”
“Who is our father?” he asked flatly.
The confusion on their mom’s face deepened. She looked between her kids. “What?”
“Who,” Mason repeated, “is. Our. Father?”
“You already know the answer to that question,” their mom said. “His name is Walter Moray. He’s a good-for-nothing piece of trash who—”
“—left us for a life of Bud Lights and neon signs, never once looking back,” Mason said, filling in the end of her sentence. “Yeah. We know. You’ve only told us a thousand times. ”
“I know I have.” She shook her head. “So why are you asking me again?”
“Mom,” said Charlie, and her mother looked over in surprise. She was just going to say it. Just going to ask the question, because she desperately needed the truth. “Is Loki our father?”
“Is…” She stared at her daughter blankly. “What?”
“Loki,” Charlie repeated. “Is Loki our father?”
“Loki, like… like the Marvel character?”
“No,” said Charlie. “Not like the Marvel character. Loki like the actual god Loki. Because the gods are real, and apparently, you’ve known this whole time.”
Their mom took two steps backward, looking between her kids with alarm. “Are you… are you two on drugs?”
“Of course not,” Charlie said impatiently. “We never had the chance to take any drugs, because we never made it to a homecoming after-party, because your ex-husband , a literal god , stole all of that away from us and—”
“Jesus Christ.” Her mom’s face fell into her hands.
“You’re completely out of it. I knew it.
I knew I shouldn’t have let Colin Wilkins’s father host the after-party.
I’ve always said she was bad news, the most negligent father at school, and…
” She exhaled, steadying herself. Then she looked up at them.
“Right. A lecture clearly won’t stick for either of you right now, so.
Bed. Both of you. We’ll discuss this tomorrow. ”
Charlie started to argue. “But—”
“Nope.” Their mom grabbed their shoulders and marched them over to the staircase. “Upstairs. Unless you’re so messed up that you need me to drag you.”
“We’re not,” Mason said quickly. “Thanks, Mom.” He turned and started up the stairs .
Charlie shook her head, bewildered. He was just going to give in?
Not demand any answers? With one last look at her mom, who was massaging her forehead, Charlie turned around and followed Mason upstairs.
She tailed him all the way to his room, stopping just outside so they could discuss what happened.
“Right,” she whispered. “What are we going to do? Mom is clearly lying, so—”
“She’s not lying.” Mason’s voice was flat, dead.
“What?” Charlie asked. “Of course she is. You saw Loki’s face. He looked just like us. He had our eyes! Mom must be trying to protect us. She—”
“Charlie,” Mason cut her off, voice still flat as a windowpane. “You know Mom can’t lie. She’s never been able to.”
Doubt crept into Charlie’s mind, because her brother was right.
Their mother couldn’t lie. Just last week, she tried to get out of a dinner with her friends that she didn’t want to attend.
She texted their group chat that she wasn’t feeling well; she was running a fever and had spent the whole afternoon over the toilet.
But when her friend Martha had called to check in on how she was doing, she’d broken down and told the truth—even though Martha hadn’t asked.
She, Charlie, and Mason had laughed about it when she’d gotten off the phone. They’d all agreed that their mom was as good at lying as she was at remembering to mow their lawn—which, most of the time, looked like a miniature jungle.
Maybe their mother was putting on the best performance of her life… but it seemed far more likely that she truly believed Loki wasn’t their father.
“You’re right,” Charlie said. “She meant what she said to us. I don’t even think she knows that Asgard exists. ”
“My point exactly,” said Mason.
“But that doesn’t mean that Loki isn’t our father, Mason. You know how Asgard is. Maybe Mom’s memory was wiped. Maybe a creature of the forest inhabited her body for three years and left when Sophie and I were born. I don’t know. Anything is possible now that real magic is on the table.”
“You sound insane. And even if you’re right, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter if our father is a Norse god or Tom Cruise or some drunken asshole from three towns over. He left. He abandoned us, and I have no interest in knowing him.”
“That’s it, then?” Charlie asked. “You’re not even going to help me try to figure it out?”
“No, Charlie,” he said, turning around, grabbing ahold of the knob, and pushing the door open.
“I’m not going to help you. You’re on your own for this one.
” Just before he stepped into his room, he looked back over his shoulder.
“That’s clearly how you like to operate, anyway.
No need for support. No need to tell your brother that his baby sister is still alive. ”
“Is that what this is really about?” Charlie asked. “The reason you haven’t looked me in the eye once since we left that cave? Because I didn’t tell you about Sophie?”
He said nothing, just pursing his lips.
“Mason, I only learned that she was still alive last night . I’ve barely had time to process the information, let alone think about sharing it.”
“ Think about sharing it?” His lips pulled back in disgust. “She’s my sister, too, Charlie. I think you forget that sometimes. That you don’t have some monopoly on grief. That the rest of us lost her, too.”
It felt as if he’d slapped her. “I don’t— ”
“A day is more than enough time to tell your older brother that his younger sister is still fucking alive ,” he said. “But clearly you don’t see it that way.” He shook his head. “Jesus. You’re so goddamn selfish.”
And with that, he stepped into his room and slammed the door in her face.
That was it, then. The real reason Mason hadn’t looked her in the eye a single time since they left that cave. Because she hadn’t told him about Sophie.
All at once, it hit her. Everything. The panic.
The fear. The regret. All the emotions that she had squashed deep, deep within herself for the sake of getting through the night, of saving the people she loved and making it out alive.
They descended upon her like a twenty-foot wave, swallowing her up and sucking her to the bottom of the ocean.
She stumbled blindly down the hall, feeling her way to her bedroom. She just needed to make it inside. Just needed to close the door behind herself, and then… and then…
Her hand found the doorknob.
She pushed the door open, hobbled though, slammed it shut, and collapsed against it, sinking to the floor in her tattered dress.
Her first thought: We did it. We made it out alive.
Her second: We will never be safe again.