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Authors: Robert J. Harris

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A Scottish barbeque is always a risky business, but this time the gamble had paid off. The sun shone down on the McBrides’ back garden as everyone tucked into a feast of hamburgers and hot dogs with lashings of ketchup and brown sauce. Mrs McBride had even provided some tofu sausages in case any vegetarians showed up.

After yesterday’s visit to Aunt Vivian, who had forced an Ecuadorian peanut and bean casserole on them, Mr and Mrs McBride had returned to St Andrews with a powerful yearning for some proper food – hence the impromptu barbeque they had organised the next day.

Susie’s parents, George and Theresa, were there. George Spinetti brought along his latest batch of home brew to share with Mr McBride, while Theresa and Mrs McBride took a turn at flipping the next round of burgers.

Of all those enjoying the sunny afternoon, only Greg, Lewis and Susie had any recollection of the extraordinary events that had overtaken the town the day before.

“So yesterday turned out to be a normal day after all,” said Greg, slurping on his huge tumbler of ginger beer
and ice.

“Yes, once Ymir’s power was destroyed, everything went back to the way it was,” said Lewis, “right at the moment before Loki stole St Andrews.”

“It was definitely weird finding ourselves back on the bus to Dundee,” said Susie, “as though Sigurda, Odin, Ymir and all the rest of it had never happened.”

“Well, I’m glad we made it to Dundee after all,” said Greg, “or you would never have got to see my new thunder-splash dive into the pool at Olympia.”

“It was pretty spectacular,” Susie admitted, “but I’m sure they meant it when they said you’ll be banned for life if you ever do it again.”

“What a bunch of wimps!” said Greg.

Their attention was momentarily distracted by the loud snores of their friend Arthur ‘the Chiz’ Chisholm. Exhausted from the effort of wolfing down ten hotdogs in a row with scarcely a pause for breath, The Chiz had collapsed in a deckchair and dozed off. His deep slumber wasn’t disturbed in the least by the yelling and screaming of Susie’s two younger brothers as they raced around beyond the hedge, playing a game of Cosmic Warriors.

The back gate opened and in walked Dave the Lobster.

“Hi there, Elvis,” Dave said breezily. “Thanks for the invitation. I hope it’s for two because Inga flew in last night from Copenhagen.”

Lewis expected Inga to be a tall, blonde Viking like Sigurda, but when she followed Dave into the garden she was less than five feet tall with short-cropped black hair. She wore a pair of coral earrings and a lobster claw necklace, which Lewis remembered was a gift from Dave.

“It is extremely groovy to be back in Scotland,” said Inga with a bright smile. “I have been so missing your haggis and chips.”

Once the introductions had been made, Dave accepted a bottle of George Spinetti’s home brew and drew Lewis aside to a spot beside the garden shed.

“Elvis, I hardly like to mention this,” he said, “but when I bumped into you at the harbour yesterday I was feeling a bit confused.”

“I wondered why you left in such a hurry,” said Lewis.

Dave shook his head, as though to clear it of a bad dream. “Even though it seems completely nuts, I had this notion in my head that it wasn’t a normal day. That this guy Logan teleported the whole town into another dimension and we were almost destroyed by a giant climbing out of a black hole. I’m not going crackers, am I?”

“It’s okay, Dave. I remember all that too,” said Lewis reassuringly. “It really did happen. These rings we have and that amulet Inga gave you with Asgardian gold inside, they’ve kept us from forgetting it all.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” said Dave the Lobster. He shook his
head wonderingly. “It’s a pretty wacky universe we live in.”

“Tell you what, Dave,” said Lewis, “it’s probably best if we keep it to ourselves.”

“Right,” said Dave. “Mum’s the word, eh?”

When Lewis rejoined his dad, Mr McBride was talking to Greg and Susie.

“I don’t know why,” Dad said, “but I feel we should be celebrating. Celebrating what, I don’t know.”

“Maybe the fact that we haven’t been slaughtered by an insane ice giant climbing out of a bottomless pit at the end of the world,” Greg suggested.

“Whatever you think you’re talking about, Greg,” said his father indulgently, “I suppose it’s as good a reason as any.”

“So, my young friends, you hold a feast in honour of our victory,” said a familiar voice.

Lewis looked round and saw Odin had appeared as if from nowhere, dressed in a white suit and a Panama hat.

“Is this another one of your friends that you’ve invited along?” Mr McBride enquired affably.

“Oh, yes,” said Lewis. “This is… Mr Owen.”

“And what’s this about a victory?” Dad asked.

“Ah, when Susie and I were at the pool yesterday,” said Greg, “we got roped into a game of water polo.”

“Mr Owen coached our team and we won,” Susie chipped in.

“Yes, by two hundred points,” Greg enthused. “Nice going, coach!” He offered Odin a high-five but the king of
the gods did not recognise the gesture.

“Nice of you to come along at short notice, Mr Owen,” said Susie, pulling Greg’s hand down.

“I wanted to make sure you had all recovered from your heroic exertions in the… er… water-polo contest,” said Odin, falling in with their story.

“Can I offer you a drink, Mr Owen?” asked Dad.

“Let me offer one to you,” said Odin, pulling a bottle of golden liquid from his pocket. “I have brought a gift of the finest Asgardian mead.”

“Very nice,” said Dad, accepting it. “I’ll go and fetch some glasses.”

When Mr McBride had wandered off, Lewis said, “It’s good to see you, Lord Odin. Is everything really back to normal?”

“It is as I told you,” said Odin. “Once Ymir was hurled back into the pit of nothingness, his evil magic was undone. Both Vanaheim and Earth have been restored to their former state.”

“What happened to Loki?” Greg asked.

“Well,” said Odin, “as you will recall, Sigurda saved his life. According to our custom Loki is compelled upon his honour to serve her for as long as she wishes. I have made him her shield-bearer, tasked with caring for her weapons and polishing her armour.”

“I can’t see him enjoying that much,” said Susie.

Just then there came the sound of a musical car horn
from the front of the house. “What’s that? An ice-cream van?” Greg wondered.

Odin led the way through the house to the street, followed by Greg, Lewis and Susie. They saw that a red MG sports car had pulled up in front of their driveway. Loki was lounging in the passenger seat, wearing a straw hat and a short-sleeved shirt decorated with palm trees and pineapples.

Sigurda was at the wheel, but she looked very different without her helmet and armour. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail and she was dressed in a black t-shirt, a leather jacket and jeans.

“Loki, I thought you were supposed to be polishing armour or something?” said Lewis.

“Sigurda decided we should take a vacation,” said Loki airily, “check out a few places, you know, Paris, Rome, Venice.”

“But as he is my servant, he, of course, carries the luggage,” Sigurda added.

“That’s a fantastic car,” said Susie. “My Uncle Lorenzo drives an MG.”

“It is no flying horse,” said Sigurda, “but it serves well enough.”

“Honey, I wish you’ d let me drive for a while,” said Loki. “I’ve always wanted to get my hands on one of these.”

Sigurda slipped on a pair of aviator sunglasses. “I am in charge,” she stated firmly. “I drive.” She started the engine and flashed a smile. “Let us see what the world of mortals
has to offer.”

Loki waved as the car roared off and disappeared round the corner of Learmonth Place. “You know, Greg,” said Susie, “we should go on a trip like that one day.”

“Spinny, we just got back from the land of the gods,” said Greg. “Let’s take a wee break.”

A brilliant pathway of multicoloured light appeared at Odin’s feet and curved upward into the sky. Lewis recognised it as the Bifrost, the rainbow bridge that would transport him back to Asgard.

“I must return now to the golden city,” said Odin. “There is trouble brewing among the Storm Giants.”

Lewis glanced at the ring on his finger. “What about these rings?” he asked. “Are they going to work any more magic?”

“You have no more need of such enchantments,” said Odin, “for you have courage in your hearts. Those rings are mere souvenirs now. Never again will they blaze forth with Asgardian magic.” He set one foot on the rainbow pathway, then paused and looked back with the faintest of smiles playing about his lips.

Just as he vanished they heard him say, “But you never know…”

Many thanks to all the people without whom Lewis, Greg and Susie would never have made it out the front door. My wife and in-house editor Debby, who is always the first to read all my work and makes me try harder. My editors at Floris Books, Sally Polson and Sarah Stewart, whose suggestions helped to make these three books even better – and to all the team at Floris. My friend Jane Yolen, who prodded me into becoming a writer in the first place. And Diana Wynn Jones, the great children's writer, whose stories are clever, exciting and very funny, and who provided much of the inspiration for these adventures.

To find out all about me, my books, games and future projects, go to my website:
www.harris-authors.com

Kelpies is an imprint of Floris Books
First published in 2016 by Floris Books
This eBook edition published in 2016
© 2016 Robert J. Harris

Robert J. Harris has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act 1988 to be identified as the Author of this work

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without the prior permission of Floris Books, Edinburgh
www.florisbooks.co.uk

British Library CIP data available
ISBN 978-178250-271-5

 

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BOOK: Odin Blew Up My TV!
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