The Ship of the Dead by Rick Riordan
ODIN’S LAWYERSwere good.
In two weeks, all the paperwork was done. Odin had to wrangle with various Boston zoning commissions, the mayor’s office, and several neighborhood associations, but he’d cleared those hurdles in record time, as only a god with infinite money and a background in motivational speaking could. Uncle Randolph’s will had been fully executed. Annabeth had cheerfully signed off.
“I think this is awesome, Magnus,” she said on the phone from California. “You are amazing. I—I kind of needed some good news right now.”
That set my ears buzzing. Why did Annabeth sound like she’d been crying?
“You okay, cuz?”
She paused for a long time. “I will be. We…we got some bad news when we got out here.”
I waited. She didn’t elaborate. I didn’t push. She would tell me if and when she wanted to. Still, I wished I could pull her through the phone and give her a hug. Now that she was on the other coast, I wondered when I would see her again. Did einherjar ever make it out to the West Coast? I’d have to ask Samirah.
“Percy okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, he’s fine,” she said. “Well…as fine as can be expected.”
I heard his muffled voice in the background.
“He wants to know if any of his advice helped you on the sea voyage,” Annabeth relayed.
“Absolutely,” I said. “Tell him I kept my butt clenched the entire trip, just like he said.”
That got a broken laugh. “I’ll tell him.”
“Take care of yourself.”
She drew a shaky breath. “I will. You, too. We’ll talk more next time I see you.”
That gave me hope. There would be a next time. Whatever was going on in my cousin’s life, whatever bad news she was dealing with, at least my friends and I had won her and Percy a reprieve from Ragnarok. I hoped they would have a chance at happiness.
I said my good-byes and got back to work.
In two more weeks, the Chase Mansion was open for business.
Our first guests moved in on July Fourth, Independence Day. It had taken Alex and me several days to convince them that our offer was serious and not some sort of scam.
We know where you’re at,Alex told these kids. We’ve been homeless, too. You can stay for as long or as little time as you want. No judgment. No expectations. Just mutual respect, okay?
They came in, wide-eyed and shaking with hunger, and they stayed. We didn’t advertise our presence in the neighborhood. We didn’t make a big deal out of it. We certainly didn’t rub it in the neighbors’ faces. But in the legal documents, the mansion was called the Chase Space, a residence for homeless youth.
Blitzen and Hearthstone moved in. They served as cooks, tailors, and life advisors for the kids. Hearth taught them sign language. Blitz let the kids work in his shop, Blitzen’s Best, which was right down the street and had reopened just in time for the high shopping season.
Alex and I went back and forth between Valhalla and the mansion, helping out, recruiting new kids. Some stayed a long time. Some didn’t. Some only wanted a sandwich or pocket money or a bed for the night. They disappeared the next morning. That was okay. No judgment.
Occasionally, I’d pass one of the bedrooms and find Alex with her arm around some new kid who was crying his or her eyes out for the first time in years; Alex just being there, listening, understanding.
She’d look up, then motion with her head for me to keep moving, like Give me some space, Chase.
That first day we were open, the Fourth of July, we had a party for our guests on the roof deck. Blitzen and Hearthstone grilled hamburgers and hot dogs. The kids hung out with us, watching the fireworks explode over the Hatch Shell on the Esplanade, lights crackling through the low clouds and washing the Back Bay brownstones in red and blue.
Alex and I reclined next to each other in the lounge chairs, where we’d sat after killing the wolf in Randolph’s library weeks before.
She reached over and took my hand.
She hadn’t done that since we were marching invisibly toward the Ship of the Dead. I didn’t question the gesture. I didn’t take it for granted. I decided just to enjoy it. You have to do that with Alex. She is all about change. Moments don’t last. You’ve got to enjoy each one for what it is.
“This is good,” she said.
I didn’t know if she meant what we’d accomplished with Chase Space, or the fireworks, or holding hands, but I agreed. “Yeah. It is.”
I thought about what might come next. Our jobs as einherjar were never over. Until Ragnarok, we would always have more quests to undertake, more battles to fight. And I still had to find the god Bragi and convince him to write Jack his epic.
Also, I’d learned enough about othala to know that your inheritance never leaves you alone. Just as Hearthstone had had to revisit Alfheim, I had difficult things still to deal with. Chief among them: that dark road to Helheim, the voices of my dead relatives, my mom calling to me. Hel had promised that I would see my mom again someday. Loki had threatened that the spirits of my family would suffer for what I had done to him. Eventually, I would have to seek out the frozen land of the dead and see for myself.
But for now, we had fireworks. We had our friends, new and old. I had Alex Fierro next to me, holding my hand.
It might stop at any moment. We einherjar know we are destined to die. The world will end. The big picture cannot be changed. But in the meantime, as Loki once said, we can choose to alter the details. That’s how we take control of our destiny.
Sometimes, even Loki can be right.
