The Trap (The Magnificent 12 #2)(40)

And out of nowhere three very intimidating-looking women with long blond braids appeared and began singing in high-pitched wails, “Ah ah ah aaah! Ah ah ah aaah!”

Thor sang:


“We come from the land of the ice and snow,

From the midnight sun where the hot springs blow. . . .”



He was just launching into a second verse of “Immigrant Song” when a far door crashed open and an old guy, about a foot taller than Thor, stomped in.

“I’m trying to watch the match!”

This second god—because that’s clearly what he was—looked like an older, meaner Thor. But without the ludicrous T-shirt. This god was dressed the part, with a gold shield over his chest, gold bands around his bare arms, tall boots, and a sword clanking at his side.

But the outfit looked less than impressive. The hem of his tunic was frayed; the gold was smudged and seemed to be marked with some dried food.

“I’m just trying to entertain our guests!” Thor protested. But he waved his hand and disappeared the rest of the band. “You know,” he said significantly. “Our guests?”

“Oh, yes. Of course,” the ancient muttered. “Good, good. It’s about time. We’re completely out of Gouda.”

“Kids,” Thor said, “this is Odin. Or Wotan if you’re speaking German. Odin, these are . . .” Thor hesitated. “Should I intro you as the Magnificent Twelve or what?”

Mack said, “That would be great. Sir.” He thought about that for a beat; sir didn’t seem like quite enough. So he added, “Your Highness.”

“Welcome,” Thor said with a grand sweep of his hand, “to Asgard!” Then, as if realizing how it must look to strangers, he added, “You should have seen it back in the day.”

There was a rustle of fabric dragging on stone. Mack saw a third person, quite unlike either Thor or Odin. More human-scale, though still rather tall. She was very dark skinned, with black-in-black eyes and jet-black hair that reached all the way to the floor.

Looking closer, Mack saw many tiny stars glittering in the depths of those eyes. Her formfitting dress was actually in a lunar pattern, like a blown-up photograph of the gray and white surface of the moon.

Mack looked at her and yawned. So did Jarrah, Dietmar, and Stefan.

“Nott, goddess of the night,” Thor explained unnecessarily.

Nott spoke in a dreamy, faraway voice. “Welcome.” Then, since they were all having a hard time keeping their eyes open, she added, “Oh, good grief, I’d forgotten how vulnerable mortals are.” She snapped her fingers. “Stay awake.”

Mack’s cell phone signaled a message. Mack, Odin, Thor, and Nott all reached for their phones at the same time.

“Huh,” Stefan commented.

“You guys get service here?” Mack asked, incredulous. “Aren’t we, like, in magic land or something?”

Nott explained. “We are not confined; it is you who are limited. Humans see the world as if peering through a straw. They choose not to see us.”

“Exactly,” Thor boomed. “Doesn’t mean we can’t have BlackBerries. I mean, my manager has to be able to get hold of me. He could have a gig for me.”

“You play gigs?” Jarrah asked skeptically.

“All over Germany, Denmark, up in Sweden, Norway. Not stadiums, that’s not my thing. I mean, it’s mostly small clubs. But I like the intimacy, the audience feedback. You know?” He stroked his blond beard. “I haven’t played a lot of gigs lately. . . . I guess it’s been a while.” He sighed and seemed a little sad.

Then Thor clapped his hands together and said, “Hey! You guys thirsty? Flagon of ale?”

Mack left it to Jarrah to decline the offer of a beer.

Xiao gave Mack a significant look and began a whispered conversation with Nott.

Mack checked his message:


Don’t worry, Mack; Mom says she will replace laptop since I need it for school. Next time: no chisels!

Mack sighed deeply. He’d loved that laptop. All his files would probably be lost. All his games. None of which, he realized with a secret smile, were nearly as cool as hanging out with the gods of Asgard. Even this decrepit Asgard.

Xiao left Nott’s side and came back to Mack. Smiling all the while, Xiao whispered, “We are being deceived.”

Before he could ask what she was talking about, Thor launched into an earsplitting solo. So what Xiao said next had to be shouted into his ear.

“NOTT SAYS IT’S ALL A TRAP!”

“WHAT?”

“THEY’RE GIVING US TO THE PALE QUEEN!”

Odin had left, muttering something about the music. Thor whaled on his guitar. Nott carefully avoided meeting anyone’s eye.

“WHY?”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

You know how sometimes you’ll be at a party and the music is really loud, so you have to shout to be heard? And then suddenly the music stops, and you’re still shouting?

Thor’s guitar solo ended abruptly on the word “I.”

Which left Xiao yelling, “DON’T KNOW.”

The giant blond god took off his guitar and laid it aside. “What is it you don’t know?” Thor demanded, with a sidelong glance at Nott.

“So many things,” Mack said. “Such as . . . well . . . such as, where’s the bathroom?”