Loki's Wolves (8 page)

A
t the parade, Laurie had seen that the shield was missing, and she’d known that Fen must have gone back for it. She wasn’t sure if that’s where he got the black eye, and he wouldn’t tell her what had happened. All she got out of him was that he was “handling it,” but he looked like whatever it was had handled him.

Her temper wasn’t often horrible, but as she waded through the carnival games and crowds of people standing in lines to buy food or tickets to the rides, she was shaking mad. Even the smells of popcorn, funnel cake, and cotton candy didn’t distract her. Admittedly, she still kept looking at all the games of chance that were set up to convince
people to spend all their money on games with pretty lame prizes. She won at those. She had a weird luck with carnival games and had toted home enough stuffed bunnies and creepy dolls over the past few years that her mother had taken a trunkful to the kids at the hospital. Maybe if Laurie wasn’t so mad she could stop and play just one, but she
was
mad. If Fen got caught with the shield, he would put them both at risk. If her mom weren’t so adamant that Fen wasn’t welcome, or if her dad was around, or if Matt weren’t the sheriff’s kid, or if… well, if Fen weren’t being so stupid, things would be better, but none of the
if
s were truths. The worst possibility was that Matt told the sheriff and she and Fen were both arrested. The best case was that Fen would get in trouble—and she’d lose him. So, even the best case was horrible.

Unless Matt doesn’t tell.

Even before this, Laurie had needed to talk to Fen about the weird fish dream, but she hadn’t been able to get him alone since the other night at the longship. Even at the science fair, he wasn’t available. He’d actually invited his friend Hunter to join them. She wasn’t going to be ignored any longer. She’d talk to him whether he wanted to hear it or not. Maybe if they turned the shield in, Matt would keep their secret.

As she walked around the festival, she kept a lookout for Fen. She stopped at the Ferris wheel, the Tilt-A-Whirl, and
the teacup ride. No Fen. She wandered through the petting-zoo area. No Fen.

“Where are you?” she muttered. She’d call him, but he didn’t have a cell phone.

“Hello.” A boy a few years older than her stepped up beside her. “I wondered where you were.”

“What?” She paused.

He looked like he belonged… well, anywhere but Blackwell. He wore a pair of black-and-blue tennis shoes, black trousers that hung low, a blue shirt that looked silky, and slightly longish hair that was dyed blue. Odder still, the boy had on jewelry that was almost girly: a pair of tiny black bird earrings in one ear and a twisted metal ring on his finger.

“Are you looking for me yet?” he asked.

“No.” She scowled. “I don’t know you. Why would I look for you?”

“I’m Odin.”

“Uh-huh. Odin.” She did laugh then. Anyone who grew up in Blackwell knew the basics of their mythology. Between school, parents, plays, a well-stocked myth section in the library, and some pretty terrible videos in every grade, it was impossible to completely avoid myth in Blackwell. That didn’t mean it was real.

“So,
Odin
, I guess there’s another play this year?” She hadn’t picked up any activities listing for the fair, but even if she had, she wasn’t so much up for watching another play on
some battle or other. Some people in Blackwell took their Scandinavian heritage far too seriously.

“Would you like to play a game?” Odin looked around for a moment and then pointed to a booth where some sort of gambling game was set up. “You’d be good at that one.”

It was supposed to be a game of luck, but she’d been banned from it the year before when she won every time. The man running it insisted she was cheating somehow; she hadn’t been. This year, she was staying out of trouble—no games of luck for her. This boy obviously had heard about the ugly scene last year when she’d had to give up every dollar she’d won
and
the money she’d paid to play.

“Very funny,” she said.

Odin gave her a weird little smile, but didn’t reply. He just stood there waiting. It seemed odd, but she didn’t have the time or interest to waste on some blue-haired boy. She shook her head and turned away.

“You’re leaving already?” he asked.

“I need to find someone.”

“Not me?” He sounded sad.

She looked back at him. “No.”

“Oh. I must be early then.” The boy calling himself Odin frowned. “They won’t like me, unfortunately.”

Laurie stepped a little farther away from him. He was starting to make her nervous, and she wasn’t used to talking to boys without Fen showing up to snarl at them anyhow.
Her whole family was overprotective in one way or another, and talking to Odin made her think maybe they were right. “I think I’m going to go now. Good luck with your play or whatever.”

“It’s real, you know,” Odin said. “That’s why you’re good at those games. I know. You don’t cheat, but you win.”

At that, Laurie didn’t know what to say, so she gave up. “I’m not allowed to play gambling games. My cousin will probably be a jerk to you if he sees you talking to me, and even if he doesn’t, I’m not looking for you, so please just go away.”

He studied her for a moment. “I expected you to be less of a rule follower, but I guess we’re still becoming.”

“Becoming
what
? What does that even mean?” She looked around for Fen—or even Hunter at this point. All she could see was the crush of people milling around the sawdust-covered paths of the festival. Blackwell itself wasn’t that big, but the festival always drew in people from outside the area. It made sense, she supposed. The fair might celebrate Scandinavian heritage, but it still had the trappings of a lot of festivals. There were wooden booths where volunteers manned games of chance and skill; there were all kinds of good foods, and usually there were bands and fireworks and whatever else the committee felt would add to the overall excitement and appeal.

As Laurie looked, she saw a few of the odd acrobats who
were running through the festival, doing tricks that made her think of the extreme sports games Fen liked to watch. They didn’t have bikes or skateboards, but they did handstands, weird half jumps, and crazy flips as they ran.

“Becoming more than we are,” Odin said.

“Okaaaay,
Odin
, I’m not in your play or whatever, so I’m going to go now,” she said.

“You can call me Owen, if you’d feel better,” he offered. “I’d rather you call me my true name, but you’re not ready. Maybe next time I see you.”

She stared at him and said, “I don’t need to call you Owen or Odin or whatever other name you want to use. I won’t be talking to you. Now
or
later. Go away before my friends show up.”

“They
would
misunderstand.” The boy nodded to himself. “I just wanted to see you. You’re the one who will understand me. I hoped… I hoped you’d be ready. Soon, though, we can talk as we are meant to.”

He turned and disappeared into the crowd.

She watched him go; his blue hair made him stand out enough that it was easy. The acrobat kids seemed to be following him, but not with him. It was weird. They trailed him, and he walked as if he were alone. For a moment, she had a flash of worry for him.
What if they aren’t with him? What if he’s in trouble?
But they didn’t seem to be trying to hurt him, and he didn’t act like he was worried.
And it’s not
my problem.
Still, she watched them as they headed toward the exit.

Owen was barely out of view when another, more important person caught her eye. “Fen!”

She pushed through the crowd, not caring that she was drawing attention or being rude. She shoved between him and the ever-present Hunter and grabbed Fen’s wrist. “I need to talk to you alone….” Her words died. Fen had flinched from her touch. She let go of his arm and said softly, “Please, Fen?”

He looked directly at her.

And she said the magic words, the words that they’d both used over the years: “I need your help with something.”

Her cousin opened his mouth, but before he could ask, she spoke. “I need to talk to Fen alone. If you could—”

“Go away, Hunter,” Fen finished for her. Then, he started through the crowd away from Hunter. He was pulling her with him as he had on who-knew-how-many adventures over the years, and she felt such relief that she almost hugged him. Everything would be okay now. She had Fen at her side again.

By the time they’d reached the edge of the festival, behind a row of booths where the tangled wires for the strands of temporary lights were stretched, Laurie was bursting with the words she’d been waiting to say. The music over the loudspeakers made it impossible for anyone in the booths to hear them, but that didn’t mean they wanted witnesses.
They both knew that if the other one said “I need your help” that meant they also needed privacy.

After he confirmed that no one was watching, Fen let go of her and tucked his hands in the pockets of the torn jacket he was wearing. He looked around to make sure no one was nearby. “What happened?”

She didn’t want to start by accusing him—that never went well—so she started with her other worry. “I thought I was a fish,” she blurted.

“Okay.” Fen nodded, and then he paused, blinked, and said, “
What?
”

“A fish,” she whispered.

He stepped closer to her and said, “Say that again.”

“I woke up in the middle of the night, and I was a fish and I couldn’t breathe and you weren’t there.” She sounded crazy even to herself. “I know it was just a dream, but it was so real, and all I could think about was telling you.”

Fen stared at her.

“Say something,” she half begged.

“Maybe you should keep a bucket of water by your bed, because Aunt Janey isn’t going to let me stay with you unless Uncle Stig is around.” Fen folded his arms over his chest.

Laurie stared at him.

The music on the loudspeaker was interrupted by some sort of squeal that caused them both to jump. After a minute, Fen said, “What I mean is maybe you really were a fish.”

“It was a dream; it had to be,” Laurie said.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Fen shrugged. “There’s weirder stuff out there.”

“Like what?”

“The Raider Scouts,” he said.

“Who?” Laurie couldn’t always follow the way his mind jumped around, but she knew he usually got to his point. “I don’t get it.”

“Those weird people who just camp and stuff all the time,” Fen said.

Laurie shook her head. “You think turning into a fish is
less
weird than camping?”

Fen shrugged. “They say they’re wolves, you know.”

Laurie laughed. “Right. Well, maybe they are, and I’m a fish. Do you think I ought to join them? Can you imagine Mom’s face? I dreamed I’d turned into a fish, and Fen says maybe I’ll be a real fish, so I’m going to drop out of school and camp with these kids who say they’re wolves.”

“No, you shouldn’t join them, but…” The way Fen looked at her seemed off, but maybe that was just because his face was so bruised. He smiled, but it didn’t look quite right. “What if the Raiders really
are
wolves, Laurie? What if you really are a fish, or your dream means you will be?”

For a moment, she stared at him, and then she burst out laughing. “You don’t know a guy named Owen, do you?”

Now it was Fen who looked confused. “No. Why?”

“Everyone seems crazy tonight. He was a stranger who acted like he knew me, got into his role for the play too seriously. It was weird. Now, you’re telling me that there are kids who might be wolves, and… well, I’m telling you I am freaked out by a dream about being a fish. Crazy. Everything just seems crazy.”

“Some of the cousins joined them.”

“The Raiders?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Fen folded his arms over his chest. “Dad was one, you know.”

“So Uncle Eddy is a wolf? That makes you one, too.”

“Maybe,” Fen hedged.

“Okay, so I’m a fish; you and Uncle Eddy are wolves.” She shook her head. “I know it’s silly, but I feel better for having told you. I’ve never had such a realistic dream.”

For a moment, Fen said nothing. He stared at her as if he would, but then he grinned. “Come on. I stole some tickets earlier for the rides.”

She paused. Fen was relaxed enough for her to ask him about the other thing, but that didn’t mean he’d like it. She put a hand on his forearm. “You still need to tell me what happened.” She pointed at his swollen and blackened eye. “And about the shield. If Thorsen tells the sheriff, we’re going to get in so much trouble.”

Fen ignored her, as he always did when he didn’t feel like answering.

“Seriously, Fen! If they go to your house and find it, we’re going to—”

“It’s not at the house,” Fen interrupted. “I don’t have it, and
if
I knew anything, that’s not enough to get me—or you—in trouble.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Trust me. I won’t ever let anything happen to you. You know that, don’t you? You’re my sister even though we don’t have the same parents.” Then he head-butted her. It almost hid his blush. He was embarrassed every time he admitted to having feelings.