The Day the World Went Loki (11 page)

Greg bit back on the harsh comment that sprang to his lips and stood sympathetically over the unconscious
fairy. “She’ll be fine. She’s magical, after all.”

“Yes, she is.” Lewis sighed.

At that moment Lindsay stirred and her eyes flickered open.

“You see, I told you,” Greg said, throwing open the cupboard.

“What happened?” Lindsay asked in a daze.

“You got conked on the nut,” Greg told her as he rummaged. “Lewis saved your life.”

Lindsay’s eyes widened and fixed on Lewis as though she were seeing him for the first time. “Lewis, you saved me?”

“It wasn’t anything much,” Lewis mumbled. His face turned bright red.

“Don’t listen to him,” Greg said, pulling a cycling helmet out of the closet. “He was a big hero.”

“Oh, Lewis,” said Lindsay.

She tried to sit up, but Lewis made her lie back down. “You stay here and rest,” he told her. “You’ve taken a bad knock.”

“That’s right, just leave everything to us,” said Greg. He strapped on the helmet and gestured with the golf club. “Come on, Lewis, we’ve got to hold them off till Aunt Vivien gets that spell working.”

As the boys headed out the door, Lindsay’s voice trilled, “Be careful, Lewis!”

Lewis looked back to where she was beaming at him. “I w-will,” he stammered, then followed Greg down the stairs.

“Thanks,” he said quietly when he caught up with his brother.

“Don’t say I never did you a favour,” said Greg.

Just then the house was shaken by a tremendous crash, as though someone had driven a battering ram into the front door.

The brothers rushed to the hall where tables and chairs were piled up against the front door. The makeshift barricade was teetering under the impact of the blow. They heard a snort like steam escaping from a piston and the sound of a motorcycle engine revving furiously.

“They must be using one of those horse-bike things to smash the door!” cried Lewis.

“I hope it smashes its brains in!” Greg said between his teeth.

The Chiz appeared from behind them. “Back door blocked, Greg,” he reported.

“That’s great, Chiz,” Greg said. “Help us out here, will you?”

The Chiz pressed his huge hands flat against the tottering mound of furniture and wedged it firmly back into place against the door.

The sharp crash of breaking glass sent them scurrying into the front room. Two Valkyries were climbing in through the window with swords at the ready. The Chiz surprised everyone by snatching up the sofa and heaving it at them with uncanny
accuracy. With twin shrieks of dismay the Valkyries were bounced back into the front yard, leaving the sofa securely wedged in the window frame.

Greg crowed, “Top man, Chiz! I didn’t think you had it in you!”

The Chiz’s big face split in a gap-toothed grin. Thumping his hairy chest, he said proudly, “Did good.”

Just then, there came a muffled boom from the rear of the house.

Greg clenched his golf club tightly. “Hold the fort here, Chiz,” he said with a determined gleam in his eye. “I’ll find out what they’re up to. Lewis, go and see what’s happening in the kitchen.”

In the kitchen Aunt Vivien had her spellbook lying open on the counter in front of her. She was dropping ingredients into a pot of ooze that bubbled unpleasantly on the stove.

“How’s the spell?” Lewis asked.

“We’re getting there,” Aunt Vivien replied, “but this has to be done ever so carefully.”

Mum was standing with a pensive finger on her large, thick lip. “Goblin’s fingernails, goblin’s fingernails,” she repeated to herself. “I’m sure we have some. Oh yes, I remember.”

She reached up to a high shelf and brought down a pot.

“Could you speed it up?” Lewis pleaded. “We’ve not got much time.”

Aunt Vivien ignored him and ran a finger along the next line in the book. “Let’s see,” she mused. “Iguana blood. Where do you keep that, Adele?”

The window over the sink suddenly shattered and a Valkyrie appeared. She sneered menacingly. In an instant Mum plucked a frying pan from the wall and walloped her square in the face, sending her flying backwards through the air.

“I’ll thank you to stay out of my kitchen.”

“Nice one, Mum!” Lewis gasped.

Aunt Vivien gave Lewis a warning glare. “Are you going to keep us gabbing all day, young man, or do you want this time business sorted out?”

A shout from Greg sent Lewis racing to join him. He found his brother pressed across a heap of trunks and boxes that reinforced the back door against the Valkyries’ assault. Lewis added his weight to the pile as it shook under a renewed pounding.

After a few moments the attack stopped and the boys relaxed.

“How long do you think we can keep this up?” panted Lewis.

Greg straightened his cycling helmet and struck a commanding pose. “It’s like Robert the Bruce said,
Swing like a spider and sting like a bee…”

Lewis shook his head. “Nobody
ever
said that.”

But Greg was already bolting towards the front door. Lewis joined him in time to see the barricade toppling like an avalanche. The door split down the middle and the metal head of a roadsteed thrust itself through the gap. With an angry roar of engines it began forcing its way into the house.

To Lewis’ amazement Greg let out a wordless battle cry and charged forward, swinging his golf club. He brought a mighty blow down on the roadsteed’s skull. The creature’s glassy eyes popped out on a pair of springs, its body shuddered, and then it was still.

“Wow!” Lewis exclaimed. “You knocked it out!”

“Result!” Greg declared.

“Base wretch!” cried a familiar voice. “You will pay for slaying my steed.”

Shona Gilhooley was clambering over the broken beast with the point of her sword thrust towards them.

“Get back, Greg!” Lewis warned. “She’s on the warpath.”

“No way, Lewis!” Greg responded. “I’m in the zone now.”

With a wild cry of, “Fore!” he swung the golf club and dashed the Valkyrie’s sword from her grasp. Disarmed and dismayed, Shona gaped incredulously as
her blade clattered across the floor. Greg flailed at her with the club and sent her scrambling backwards over her mount to safety.

“How’s that for a workout!” Greg called after her as she fled.

Before he could savour his triumph, a riotous uproar broke out in the front yard. The brothers dashed up the stairs to their parents’ bedroom to see what was going on.

Ignoring the tusks and antlers that now festooned the walls, they sped to the window and looked down. Below, the Valkyries and their remaining steeds were fleeing in terror from the Larkins’ dog. It was tearing madly around the yard, snapping its three sets of slavering jaws at anything that moved.

“It must want to play some more,” Greg said.

The din had finally roused Aunt Vivien’s green dinosaur from its slumbers. It heaved itself sluggishly onto its stumpy legs and stood blinking sleepily at the surrounding chaos. After a moment, it gave a cavernous yawn and plodded off in search of a quieter neighbourhood, crushing fences and shrubbery in its path.

This did not distract the Larkins’ three-headed hound from its furious pursuit of the Valkyries, who were fleeing for safety in all directions.

Opening the window, Greg yelled, “Go get them, Fido!”

Lewis shook Greg’s sleeve and pointed. “Look out! Here’s more trouble!”

Two enormous trolls, each of them nearly ten feet tall, were jogging up the street, carrying a garishly-decorated sedan chair between them. They set it down on the pavement in front of the McBride house, where a familiar, green-clad figure climbed out.

“It’s Loki!” exclaimed Lewis. “Now what are we going to do?”

Greg chewed his lip for a second. “Relax,” he said. “I’ve got an idea.”

He sprang to the door and shouted down the stairs, “Heads up, Chiz! I’ve got a job for you!”

He shouted a brief set of instructions before rejoining Lewis at the window. Shoulder to shoulder, they watched Loki straighten his jacket and adjust his fedora before entering the front garden.

The Larkins’ dog was chasing off the last of the Valkyries when the creak of the gate caught its attention. First one head, then the other two whipped round in Loki’s direction as he sauntered up the path. With a low growl the monster turned on the green-garbed intruder, three sets of dagger-teeth glittering dangerously.

Undaunted, Loki gave a casual snap of his fingers and a coil of flame appeared in his hand. With a flick of his wrist he sent the length of fire snaking through the air like a whip. The fiery lash connected with a crack, and the hound recoiled with a threefold yelp of pain.

The stink of scorched fur filled the air. Falling into a crouch, the monster dog glowered angrily at Loki with all six of its savage eyes. Loki lashed out again with his fiery whip and scored another hit.

With an anguished howl, the dog spun about and bolted with its tails between its legs. It disappeared around the back of the Larkin house, its pitiful yelps receding into the distance.

Loki opened his hand and the fire slithered back into his palm. “That takes care of the mutt,” he said coolly.

Leaning out of the window, Greg called down, “You’re hot stuff when it comes to dogs,
Lucas
, but an old lady can sneak up and whack you over the skull.”

Loki whipped a cigar from his breast pocket and lit it with a flame that popped out of his thumb. “Don’t waste your breath trying to insult me, kid,” he snapped. “You’re running out of time to make a deal and save your skin.”

“Make a deal with you?” Greg scoffed. “I’d sooner kiss a tarantula.”

Lewis watched nervously as Loki drew nearer, his jaw set in an angry grimace. “What are you winding him up for?” he pleaded in Greg’s ear. “Aren’t we in enough trouble?”

“I need him to come closer,” Greg explained out of the side of his mouth.

The thud of heavy footsteps heralded the arrival of the Chiz. He had Mum’s enormous washtub wrapped in his brawny arms and water sloshed about in it as he squeezed through the doorway. The brothers shifted aside to make room and the Chiz propped the tub against the window frame.

“Let me make this really simple for you, boys,” snarled Loki. “Either you hand over the book or I burn your house to the ground with all of you in it.”

“I don’t think so,” said Greg. “You see, we’ve got the book
and
Aunt Vivien, and that’s more than enough to see off you and your conjuring tricks.”

“Conjuring tricks!” Loki was seething now. He took a menacing step closer. “I’ll show you tricks, you delinquent.”

Taking a deep puff on his cigar, he exhaled a stream of sulfurous smoke that whirled about him like a storm cloud. A spark of lightning flashed from his finger and the cloud lit up like a bonfire. Unaffected by the flames, he advanced on the doorstep, blazing like a human torch.

“What’s next?” Greg taunted. “Are you going to pull a rabbit out of your hat?”

“Next I’m going to turn you into a cinder!” Loki roared. “Laugh that off!”

Greg snorted contemptuously. “Face it,
Lucas
, we’ve been running rings around you all day. Why don’t you pack it in and shuffle off back to Right Guard.”

Loki glared up at him. “That’s Asgard, you bonehead!
Asgard!”

“Now, Chiz!” yelled Greg.

With a single heave, the Chiz upended the washtub over the windowsill. Several litres of water poured down in a deluge that broke over Loki like a waterfall. The flames guttered out with a loud hiss, leaving him drenched from head to foot.

Loki staggered back, swearing vehemently.

Greg let out a derisive hoot. “Nice going, Chiz!”

Loki gave himself a furious shake like a wet cat, and flung aside his extinguished cigar. “You’ll pay for this, you worms!” he snarled as the steam rose from his suit. He snatched off his dripping hat and used it to wave the two trolls forward.

Greg turned to Lewis and the Chiz. “Let’s go!” he ordered. “We have to keep them out of the kitchen!”

Scrambling downstairs, they reached the front hall in time to see the defunct roadsteed yanked out of
the doorway and flung aside. One of the trolls bashed through the remains of the door and trampled the wrecked barricade under its oversized feet.

“Leave this to me!” said Greg, taking a tight grip on his golf club.

“No!” Lewis cried. He could see that Greg was in such a rush he wasn’t thinking straight.

He charged the troll and whacked it hard. The impact jarred him from head to toe as the golf club snapped in two and fell from his numbed fingers. The troll hadn’t even felt the blow. It raised a massive fist to crush Greg, who was now backing frantically away.

“Help him, Chiz!” yelled Lewis.

Lumbering forward, the Chiz threw his arms around the troll and they lurched from side to side, bashing off the walls in a monster wrestling match. While they grappled, noises of rending and tearing came from the front room.

“Whatever you do, Chiz, don’t let go!” called Greg as he and Lewis rushed to investigate.

The second troll had punched the sofa out of the window and sent it bouncing across the floor. Then the monster crashed into the room like a runaway train, scattering bricks in all directions, the broken window frame dangling around its neck.

The brothers reeled back as the troll barrelled across the floor and crashed head first into the opposite wall. The force of the collision shook the whole house. The troll lumbered backwards to collapse in a senseless heap among the bricks and dust.

“He’s knocked himself out!” Lewis exclaimed in relief.

“See, I told you everything would be okay,” said Greg.

The next instant, the Chiz came tumbling in from the hallway, bowling the brothers aside. He flopped down on top of the unconscious troll and lay there stunned. The other troll tromped in after him, its tiny eyes blazing with berserk fury, its fist still swinging.

With no other weapon handy, Greg snatched off his cycling helmet and hurled it with all his might. It bounced harmlessly off the troll’s chest. Lewis shook the Chiz’s arm in desperation. “Chiz, wake up! We need you!” he yelled.

The Chiz began to snore.

Roaring with rage, the pursuing troll advanced on the brothers, brandishing its rock-like knuckles. Greg yanked Lewis out of range and barked, “Fall back to the kitchen!”

Clambering over the Chiz and the unconscious troll, they tumbled into the kitchen, slamming the door behind them. They were engulfed by a cloud of
malodorous steam, through which they could see Mum and Aunt Vivien hovering over the stove.

“Aunt Vivien! The spell!” Lewis panted. “You’ve got to say it
now
!”

On the stove top an iron pot bubbled and burped. The toxic reek it gave off made them glad of the breeze wafting in through the broken window.

With a curt nod Aunt Vivien waved her hands over the pot and peered hard at the book that lay on the counter beside her. Brow furrowed in concentration, she began chanting the spell. To Lewis the unintelligible words sounded like a duet between a whale and a cuckoo.

From the far room came the ominous thud of approaching feet.

“Chant faster!” urged Greg. “Here, Lewis, give me a hand!”

The fridge had been transformed into a large metal chest, which the boys now shoved into place against the door. There was a light knock and Loki called, “Anybody in there?”

“We’ve gone to the beach!” Greg answered. “We’ll be back on Tuesday.”

There was a heartbeat’s pause. Then, without warning, the door was smashed clean off its hinges by a resounding blow that knocked the metal chest right
across the room. Greg and Lewis were sent sprawling. Elbowing himself up dazedly, Lewis saw the troll looming on the threshold, fist upraised to strike again. Waving the creature aside, Loki stepped around it into the kitchen. “My, my,” he drawled. “What’s cooking?”