Page 99 of Soul of Shadow
Epilogue
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 probablyassumedwas 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.
