Thor Is Locked in My Garage! Page 2

  “How’s that, Dad?”

  “Well, he lost a ball in the burn under the Swilken Bridge.”

  “What’s the Swilken Bridge?” asked Lewis.

  Greg shook his head despairingly. “Even you should know that, Lewis! It’s only one of the most famous landmarks on the course.”

  “It crosses the burn between the first and eighteenth greens,” said Dad. “It’s been there for 700 years.”

  “What about Larry O’Keefe, Dad?” Lewis persisted.

  Dad looked amused. “Right. He plopped a ball into the burn right under the bridge. He spent ten minutes splashing about under there. Lost the ball completely, but came out with a box he’d found. The funny thing was, he seemed pretty pleased with himself.”

  Dad went back to his phone as the boys stepped outside. The neighbouring gardens and the street were covered over with a thick layer of white, like icing on a Christmas cake. A car crawled past, leaving a set of tire tracks in its wake. Even as they watched, the falling snow began filling in the furrows.

  As they started down the Canongate Road, Greg said, “Do you have to wear that duffel coat? You look like Paddington Bear.”

  “I do not!” Lewis retorted. “Plus it’s really warm, I’ll have you know.”

  Before Greg could open his mouth again a snowball thumped into his back. “She shoots, she scores!” called a familiar voice.

  Another snowball caught Lewis in the shoulder as they turned around.

  There stood Susie, dressed in her winter gear, leaning on her ice hockey stick. She laughed and scooped up another handful of snow. Lewis dodged as the snowball went whizzing past his ear.

  “Spinny, are you just looking for trouble?” Greg asked.

  “I told you I’d see you outside for a snowball fight. Don’t you listen to anything?”

  “Why have you got your hockey stick?” asked Lewis.

  “Because it’s dead brilliant for skiting snow about,” Susie told him. “See?”

  Bounding forward, she took a savage swing and smacked a heap of snow right in their faces. Lewis squawked and stumbled back, wiping his eyes with the back of his glove.

  Greg scooped up a double handful of snow and pressed it into a ball. “You asked for it, Spinny!” he said, letting fly.

  With a casual flick of her hockey stick, Susie smashed the snowball to bits in mid-air. “Some technique, eh?” she grinned.

  “That’s great, Susie,” said Lewis, “but we don’t have time for this right now.” He grabbed hold of Greg’s arm to keep him from making another snowball.

  Greg recovered himself and pulled his arm away. “He’s right. We’re busy.”

  “Busy?” said Susie. “How can you be busy on a snow day? I’ll bet half the town’s shut down already.”

  “We’ve got to go and find Larry O’Keefe,” said Greg.

  “What for? Who is this Larry O’Keefe anyway?”

  “Nobody,” said Lewis. “We’re just running an errand for Dad. Aren’t we, Greg?”

  “Uh huh,” Greg agreed.

  Susie gave them a hard stare. “Look, this snow is obviously a freak thing and it probably won’t last long,” she said, drumming her fingers on her hockey stick. “We should make the most of it.”

  Greg began edging away. “Tomorrow we’ll go diving or camel riding or whatever you want. Promise.”

  “I told you I’m going to hockey camp tomorrow,” Susie reminded him sharply.

  “Then you’d better go home and pack.”

  The brothers made off in the direction of town. Lewis braced his shoulders, half expecting to get a snowball in the neck, but nothing happened. When he judged they were safely out of range, he turned to his brother. “You like her, don’t you?”

  Greg glanced back to make sure Susie wasn’t following. “She’s okay,” he said with a shrug.

  “No,” said Lewis, “I mean you like her, like a girlfriend.”

  “She is not my girlfriend. It’s Susie. We pal around together, that’s all.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “You’re just saying that because you’ve been pining over Lindsay Jensen ever since her family moved to Aberdeen,” snorted Greg.

  Lewis reddened. “I have not.”

  “Right, then it’s settled,” said Greg. “You’re not pining and Susie is just a pal.”

  “Fine,” said Lewis, “she’s a pal.” And let the subject drop.

  Blanketed with snow, Bridge Street looked like a ski slope. As the brothers climbed the hill, they had to dodge some kids who were sledging down in the opposite direction. At the bus station on City Road they saw the Dundee bus was stuck in the snow. A group of shivering passengers had got out and were struggling to push it free.

  As he thought nervously about facing the enemy who had almost destroyed them once before, Lewis couldn’t help wishing he was a little more like Greg. What was the right word for it? Simple minded? That sounded a bit harsh. But things always looked simple to Greg. He didn’t study up or calculate the odds, he just charged in. And if he banged his head or tripped over, he shook it off and kept on going.

  Lewis, by contrast, was too aware of how complicated everything was, geometry, the economy, growing up. He was already trying to work out which school subjects would give him the best chance of making it to university and finding a job. Greg acted as if all he had to do was come up with some kind of trick and everything would fall into his lap, as if by magic.

  And here he was now, leading them off to confront a Norse god as if it were no more dangerous than a trip to the shops.

  A short trudge brought them to a mini-roundabout marking the entrance to the Old Course Hotel. As they started down the drive, the pair of them saw something that made them stop dead in their tracks.

  To their left lay the deserted playing fields of Station Park. To their right lay an empty car park. Dead ahead a familiar red-bearded figure was striding energetically towards them as if the flurrying snow didn’t bother him in the least.

  He was wearing a long fur coat and a fedora. As he drew closer, they could see his green eyes flashing beneath the brim of his hat.

  Loki.

  The Norse god stopped short at the sight of them and grimaced. “You two? I’m beginning to think you’ve nothing better to do with your time than get under my feet. Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  “It’s the summer holiday,” said Lewis.

  “And you’re ruining it with this blizzard of yours,” Greg added boldly.

  “What makes you think I had anything to do with it?” Loki asked innocently.

  “It’s just the sort of thing you’d do,” said Greg. “Because you’re such a creep.”

  “Yes, you know me too well,” Loki agreed ruefully. “But how did you know where to find me?”

  “If you want privacy,” Greg informed him, “you shouldn’t get your picture in the paper.”

  “It was vanity, I suppose,” Loki admitted, stroking his beard. “I couldn’t say no to being photographed with a movie star.”

  “And why are you calling yourself Larry O’Keefe now?” asked Lewis.

  Loki waved the question away with an airy hand. “Kid, I change my name more often than you change your underwear. It’s all part of being a professional trickster.”

  “But you don’t have magic powers any more,” said Lewis. “You told us that last time we met.”

  “So how are you pulling this off?” Greg demanded.

  “Because I have this,” said Loki.

  With a flourish he pulled a wooden box out of his pocket. It was about the size of a small box of chocolates and Lewis could see that its surface was carved with runes, the writing of the ancient Norse peoples.

  “This box was manufactured for me centuries ago by the Troll King,” Loki explained smugly. “It contains the Fimbulwinter. That is to say, it did until I opened the lid and let it out.”

  “The Fimbulwinter,” said Lewis. “I read about that in Myths of the Vikings. It’s supposed
to be one of the signs of the end of the world, what the Vikings called Ragnarok.”

  “Been boning up on your Norse legends, eh?” said Loki with a wicked smile. “Not that it will help you.”

  “Lewis, how is it you know all that stuff,” said Greg, “but you’ve never heard of the Swilken Bridge?”

  “I’m just not interested in sports,” Lewis retorted. “That’s not a crime, is it?”

  “So, Larry,” said Greg, turning his attention back to Loki, “last time it was a book, this time it’s a box. What’s next? A magic toothbrush?”

  “There isn’t going to be a next time,” said Loki, baring his teeth. “This time I’m playing for keeps.”

  “It looks to me like you’re planning to open a ski resort,” said Greg.

  “Mostly the snow is to keep people off the streets so they don’t get in my way,” said Loki, “but in your case it’s obviously going to take a little more than that.” His smile widened nastily. “You see, as long as I possess the box, I control all this snow.”

  He gripped the box tightly in one hand while with the other he made a magical gesture. The snow at his feet rippled and heaved. As Greg and Lewis watched in amazement, it formed a conical mound eight feet high. The mound sprouted a bulbous head and a set of stumpy arms. Then, with a ponderous shudder, it lurched forward on a pair of legs as thick as post-boxes.

  Lewis took a step back. “We’d better get out of here.”

  “Relax, Lewis, it’s only a snowman,” said Greg. “A few good kicks will knock it to bits.”

  Even as he spoke, the lumpy snow creature hardened into a glittering statue of clear greenish ice. Its face became a crystal mask of jutting angles. Claws like icicles bristled from its hands.

  Lewis gulped. “I think it’s a lot worse than a snowman.”

  “Actually it’s more of an ice monster,” said Loki. “Here, why don’t you get acquainted?”

  He waved the creature forward and it stomped towards the boys, slashing the air with its jagged claws.

  “Run!” yelled Lewis.

  The brothers wheeled around and bolted. Almost at once they found themselves floundering in the snow. The monster came after them with a noise like icebergs colliding.

  Bounding clumsily from drift to drift, the boys fled along Station Road.

  Lewis could hear the creature’s icy talons clashing behind him like steel shears. Straining for speed, he slipped and sprawled flat on his face.

  Greg seized his elbow and tried to haul him up. “Come on, Lewis, move!” he urged. He lost his footing and flopped down right beside his brother.

  His heart pounding, Lewis looked up and saw Loki’s monster looming over them. It raised its claws and prepared to strike.

  3. A Man Called Mallet

  Lewis gritted his teeth and braced himself for the deadly blow.

  But at that instant a figure leaped suddenly from the narrow alleyway of Granny Clarke’s Wynd, like a rabbit popping out of its hole.

  It was Susie Spinetti.

  As the monster lunged at the boys, she swung her hockey stick and hooked it around its ankle. The boys rolled desperately aside as the ice creature toppled face first into the snow.

  “Ka-BOOM!” Susie crowed in triumph.

  It was what she shouted whenever she scored a goal.

  “Spinny!” Greg exclaimed, as he struggled to his feet, pulling Lewis up beside him.

  “Come on, you two, don’t hang about!” Susie cried, bounding off in her thick-soled boots. “Good thing for you I hung back in defence.”

  “It’s lucky for us she’s a pal,” said Lewis, as he and Greg toiled after her.

  The deep snow made it impossible to move quickly. When Lewis glanced back he saw the ice monster heave itself upright. With a noise like an avalanche, it started after them, closing the gap with long, purposeful strides.

  “We’ll never get away from that thing!” Lewis gasped.

  “We’ll have to stand and fight then,” said Greg. “Here, give me a loan of that stick, Spinny.”

  “Don’t be daft,” said Susie. “Come on, we’ll duck in here.”

  She swerved left, vaulted up a couple of steps and dived through the revolving door of the Rannoch Hotel. The boys dashed in behind her and stumbled into the brightly lit foyer.

  Following hard on their heels, the snow monster hurled itself at the revolving door. Without a brain to understand how the door worked, the creature got trapped in one section. Instead of exiting, it sent the door into a wild spin.

  Faster and faster it flew around, the monster clattering about like a glass tumbler in a washing machine. Chips flew off at every impact until suddenly it shattered into smithereens. When the door slowed to halt all that was left was a harmless scattering of ice.

  “Fife Flames one, ice robots nil!” Susie declared with satisfaction.

  Lewis yanked off his woolly hat. “Loki could easily whip up another one of those things to send after us,” he muttered to Greg.

  “The heat in here would probably melt it,” said Greg.

  “Fair enough,” Lewis conceded, “but we can’t stay put forever. Suppose Loki’s waiting outside?”

  “One thing at a time,” said Greg, turning to Susie. “Not that we don’t appreciate the help, Spinny, but what exactly are you doing here?”

  “I knew you were up to something,” said Susie, “and it’s easy to trail folk when they leave footprints in the snow.” She fixed them with a challenging stare. “If you ask me, it’s you boys that have got some explaining to do.”

  Lewis noticed that they were drawing disapproving glances from a number of guests who were seated in comfy chairs sipping coffee.

  “Over here,” he said, leading the way to a quiet spot by a potted rubber plant.

  Susie lost no time in getting to the point. “Spill it. Who is that guy in the fur coat and how did he make that monster come out of the snow?”

  As Lewis groped for words, the revolving door spun around and Loki came sauntering across the hotel lobby. He scanned the foyer and Lewis’ heart skipped a beat when his sharp eyes spotted them.

  Loki popped a stick of chewing gum into his mouth and walked over to them.

  “No cigar today?” Greg inquired.

  “My doctor told me to give them up,” said Loki.

  Lewis forced himself to speak boldly. “That’s right, without any magic powers, you’re just a guy.”

  “And you can’t pull any of your snow tricks in here,” said Greg.

  “Don’t be so sure of that,” said Loki. He raised an eyebrow at Susie. “And who’s this little spitfire?”

  “Leave her out of it,” said Greg, stepping between them.

  Loki removed his hat and scratched his head. “Take it from me, toots,” he told Susie, “hanging around with these chuckleheads will only buy you trouble.”

  “Toots?” Susie echoed indignantly. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

  Ignoring her, Loki addressed the boys. “Last time we met up you got lucky, plain and simple. But if you cross me again, it will take more than a trick door to save you.” He put his hat back on and headed to the exit. “Take a telling and back off.”

  As he disappeared through the revolving door, Lewis let out the breath he had been holding. “I thought he might whip up another blizzard right here,” he said.

  “He was bluffing,” Greg snorted.

  “Did you hear what he called me? Toots!” Susie exclaimed, as though that were all that mattered. She took an angry step towards the door. “I’ve half a mind to go after him and—”

  “That’s a bad idea,” said Lewis, blocking her way.

  Susie eyed him crossly, then turned to Greg. “I’m still waiting for an explanation from you two,” she said, bouncing the blade of her hockey stick off the palm of one hand. “And it better be good.”

  Greg rubbed his jaw. “Well, since you’ve jumped right into the middle of things, I suppose you might as well know the whole story.”
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br />   He and Lewis took turns telling, as briefly as possible, how Loki had conjured up a magical day that transformed the whole of St Andrews and how they had only just been able to turn everything back to normal. It had happened months ago and they definitely hadn’t expected to see him again.

  There was a long silence while Susie stared at them. “Okay,” she said at last, “who is he really?”

  “We just told you,” said Greg.

  Susie clucked her tongue. “Greg, I wasn’t born yesterday. I don’t believe in Norse gods and magic and stuff any more than I believe in ghosts or fairies. Come on, what is he? A space alien?”

  Lewis knew there was never any point arguing with Susie. “All right, you guessed it,” he said. “He’s a space alien.”

  “From Planet X or something,” Greg agreed.

  Susie grinned. “Well, why didn’t you just say so in the first place?” She gave her hockey stick a warlike shake. “We’ll teach him to invade our planet!”

  Just then a young woman in a smart uniform approached them from the reception desk. “Excuse me, can I help you?” she asked primly. “I don’t think you’re guests here.” She cast a wary eye over Susie’s hockey stick.

  Before Lewis could say they were just sheltering from the blizzard, Greg declared loudly, “We’re here for the spoons.”

  The woman raised her eyebrows. “Spoons?”

  “Right. We’re collecting spoons for charity. To help starving people in Burpovia.”

  Lewis groaned, but there was no stopping Greg now.

  “Are people starving in – what was it? – Burpovia?” the woman inquired.

  “You bet they are,” said Greg. “We’re collecting spoons, selling them, and using the money to send food to Burpovia. So how about it? Have you got any spare spoons?”

  The woman peered at him for a few seconds then said, “I don’t think so. We need all our spoons for our guests.”

  “Fine. If you’re going to be miserly about it, we’ll be off,” said Greg.

  He gestured to the other two and marched off towards the rear of the hotel. “Did you see that?” he said when Lewis and Susie caught up. “She couldn’t have cared less about the people in Burpovia.”