anyway, because dangerous was also the new normal.
We dashed back across the school yard. We were going to climb the Pinewood Bluffs water tower. In a thundering rainstorm. One slippery ladder rung at a time.
T HE WATER TOWER WAS A HUNDRED FEET TALL AND ringed with a narrow walkway. To get to the top, we had to climb straight up an iron ladder that was dripping with cold rainwater.
“Wherever the Cyclopes are hiding,” Dana said, clinging to the rungs below me, “the tower will give us the best view.”
Sydney chuckled behind her. “Also the best view of where we’ll land when we fall.”
“Please don’t say things like that,” Jon squeaked.
Poor Jon. I felt bad dragging him up there, knowing he didn’t like heights. I also knew he wouldn’t let us go without him.
With a final pull, I swung my arms up and around the support posts of the iron railing, crawled between them, and slumped down on the cold walkway at the top of the tower.
“The lyre’s keeping dry?” asked Sydney, when she joined me.
I checked it, then pulled my hoodie tight around my head. “It’s good. Dana, you have your book?”
“Safe.” Dana patted the pocket of her sweatshirt.
Dana’s battered copy of Bulfinch’s Mythology had been our major source of information about the Underworlds. Besides the text, she had scribbled hundreds of notes in it. It had just about everything we needed to know about mythological places, creatures, and stories.
A lyre and a book. So far, these were our only weapons in this weird battle. Plus the sometimes-working cell phone Sydney had borrowed from her dad.
Some arsenal.
Dana squeezed up next to me. She was quiet for a few minutes, just looking out at our town. The giants were nowhere to be seen. The rain had let up a bit, but it was quickly turning into early evening, and streetlights and house lights were coming on.
“We should be home, not chasing monsters,” said Dana softly.
“I told my mom we had extra work at school,” I said. “Which is slightly true.”
“And slightly insane,” Dana added.
We all grinned at that, but Dana was serious. She had endured a lot. The unthinkable, really — being kidnapped by an evil god and held prisoner in the Underworld. I couldn’t imagine it. But she wasn’t wallowing. She was strong, and she was smart. Leafing through her book, she stopped at a page.
“Loki is known as the Dark Master for a reason,” Dana said, referring to what the monster Argus had called Loki when we rescued her. “He was known as a trickster, too. I figure he’s using tricks to get the Cyclopes to join him.”
“Not to mention that gross, giant wolf, Fenrir,” said Sydney.
We’d met Fenrir a couple of times, and we weren’t on the best terms. He was an extra-large red-furred wolf who breathed fire and smelled like garbage.
“Actually,” said Dana, “the wolf is one of Loki’s children.”
Jon froze. “Uh … what?”
Dana shook her head. “Don’t ask. Loki is the father of a bunch of monsters.”
“That’s probably what makes him so good at getting monsters on his side. He’s like a dad to them,” I said, trying to make it sound funny. (Okay, so I didn’t do a very good job.)
That made me think of my dad and my mom and my little sister, Mags. I hoped they would stay home and out of all this craziness.
“Dana,” Sydney said, “what are the Cyclopes actually like?”
Dana brushed the rainwater from her cheeks. “They’re not the sharpest crayons in the box. And they’re easily enraged, which we already found out.But they do one thing well. They make lightning bolts for Zeus.”
“Do you think that’s what they’re doing here?” asked Sydney. “Making bolts for Loki? Was that why they were collecting metal junk?”
Dana shook her head. “I don’t know.”
None of us knew much, really. Only that the Underworlds were in turmoil. Loki was recruiting monsters for some big battle. But why he sent the Cyclopes here was a mystery. All
We dashed back across the school yard. We were going to climb the Pinewood Bluffs water tower. In a thundering rainstorm. One slippery ladder rung at a time.
T HE WATER TOWER WAS A HUNDRED FEET TALL AND ringed with a narrow walkway. To get to the top, we had to climb straight up an iron ladder that was dripping with cold rainwater.
“Wherever the Cyclopes are hiding,” Dana said, clinging to the rungs below me, “the tower will give us the best view.”
Sydney chuckled behind her. “Also the best view of where we’ll land when we fall.”
“Please don’t say things like that,” Jon squeaked.
Poor Jon. I felt bad dragging him up there, knowing he didn’t like heights. I also knew he wouldn’t let us go without him.
With a final pull, I swung my arms up and around the support posts of the iron railing, crawled between them, and slumped down on the cold walkway at the top of the tower.
“The lyre’s keeping dry?” asked Sydney, when she joined me.
I checked it, then pulled my hoodie tight around my head. “It’s good. Dana, you have your book?”
“Safe.” Dana patted the pocket of her sweatshirt.
Dana’s battered copy of Bulfinch’s Mythology had been our major source of information about the Underworlds. Besides the text, she had scribbled hundreds of notes in it. It had just about everything we needed to know about mythological places, creatures, and stories.
A lyre and a book. So far, these were our only weapons in this weird battle. Plus the sometimes-working cell phone Sydney had borrowed from her dad.
Some arsenal.
Dana squeezed up next to me. She was quiet for a few minutes, just looking out at our town. The giants were nowhere to be seen. The rain had let up a bit, but it was quickly turning into early evening, and streetlights and house lights were coming on.
“We should be home, not chasing monsters,” said Dana softly.
“I told my mom we had extra work at school,” I said. “Which is slightly true.”
“And slightly insane,” Dana added.
We all grinned at that, but Dana was serious. She had endured a lot. The unthinkable, really — being kidnapped by an evil god and held prisoner in the Underworld. I couldn’t imagine it. But she wasn’t wallowing. She was strong, and she was smart. Leafing through her book, she stopped at a page.
“Loki is known as the Dark Master for a reason,” Dana said, referring to what the monster Argus had called Loki when we rescued her. “He was known as a trickster, too. I figure he’s using tricks to get the Cyclopes to join him.”
“Not to mention that gross, giant wolf, Fenrir,” said Sydney.
We’d met Fenrir a couple of times, and we weren’t on the best terms. He was an extra-large red-furred wolf who breathed fire and smelled like garbage.
“Actually,” said Dana, “the wolf is one of Loki’s children.”
Jon froze. “Uh … what?”
Dana shook her head. “Don’t ask. Loki is the father of a bunch of monsters.”
“That’s probably what makes him so good at getting monsters on his side. He’s like a dad to them,” I said, trying to make it sound funny. (Okay, so I didn’t do a very good job.)
That made me think of my dad and my mom and my little sister, Mags. I hoped they would stay home and out of all this craziness.
“Dana,” Sydney said, “what are the Cyclopes actually like?”
Dana brushed the rainwater from her cheeks. “They’re not the sharpest crayons in the box. And they’re easily enraged, which we already found out.But they do one thing well. They make lightning bolts for Zeus.”
“Do you think that’s what they’re doing here?” asked Sydney. “Making bolts for Loki? Was that why they were collecting metal junk?”
Dana shook her head. “I don’t know.”
None of us knew much, really. Only that the Underworlds were in turmoil. Loki was recruiting monsters for some big battle. But why he sent the Cyclopes here was a mystery. All
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