The moment my uncle gunned the engine of his BMW, I began to regret my life decisions, but not the one I'd made to not have breakfast this morning. Randolph was a terrible driver, acting oddly distracted by the lint-colored sky as he ran red lights, forgot that lanes existed, and left behind a sea of honking Bostonians and my stomach.

"You missed a pedestrian—you wanna go back and hit her?" Magnus asked dryly as we swerved around a startled-looking girl with earbuds.

Randolph made a noncommittal noise and glanced up at the sky yet again. "What are you looking for?" I ventured finally.

"Signs," Randolph said grimly. "We're getting closer to the bridge."

"O…kay," Magnus said, and I couldn't blame him for sounding skeptical. You know how many bridges there are in Boston?

Being someone who cuts to the chase (haha, Chase), the natural thing for me to say next was, "What bridge? Also, who's trying to kill us?"

There was a long silence, during which Magnus and I had a heated silent exchange that went something like: What the heck is going on? Does it look like I have any idea? Why are we in a car with our crazy uncle?

I was about to half-pantomime, half-sign something like I have no idea when Randolph interrupted us. "I've made it my life's work, studying the Norse exploration of North America."

"Yes, because Vikings are trying to kill us," I said politely, then told myself to shut up.

Randolph scowled at me over the top of his glasses, an oddly familiar look that made my heart squeeze when I realized how much it reminded me of my mom. She'd given me that exact look every time Mags or I sassed her. "'Viking' is more of a job description. Not all Norse people were Vikings, but…"

"Vikings are trying to kill us?" Magnus, who had been running his hand along the leather of the seat and probably reminiscing about cop cars, looked up at that. Nothing like a death threat by some Norse people to get someone to pay attention!

"A millennium ago, a team of Norse explorers came to this land," Randolph said, as if this was an answer. "Their captain was the son of the god Skirnir."

"A son of a god," Magnus repeated. "That's great. Look, I just remembered, Ally and I have an appointment down the street—"

"Yeah, an appointment," I added.

Randolph talked over us like we hadn't spoken. "The captain had with him a very special item. It belonged to your father, but when the ship went down in a storm, it was lost. But you, Magnus—you have the ability to find it."

"What about me?" I objected. "Don't I have the ability to find it too?"

Randolph studied me with the air of someone trying to figure something out. "We'll see, Alyssandra. Today, both of you turn sixteen, which means you'll be able to claim your birthright. One of you."

Magnus and I glanced at each other, his expression of concern mirroring my own. I didn't like the way Randolph made this birthright thing sound like a contest; Mags and I rarely fought about anything, not when we had cops and muggers to fend off together.

"But your enemies have been waiting for this day, too," Randolph continued, parking haphazardly by a meter on Cambridge Street. "We must find it first."

I was almost distracted enough by the sight of Longfellow Bridge to forget about the other craziness going on. "This is where we're going?"

"Yes. Trust me a little longer," Randolph said, straightening. "Once you have claimed your birthright, you'll be safer. You both will. I can help you, I can train you for what's to come."

"Wait." A steely tone entered Magnus' voice, and I looked over to see that he'd grabbed Randolph's arm. He wasn't big on physical contact, not even with me, so I knew he meant business. "Give me one clear answer, without the history lectures and rambling. You said you knew who our father was. Who is he?"

"On my life, Magnus, I swear to you and Alyssandra that your father is a Norse god. Now, come on. We're in a twenty-minute parking spot."

Randolph strode off toward the bridge, leaving Magnus spluttering as I hurried to match my uncle's brisk stride. "What are you talking about?" I demanded. "I thought Mags said one clear answer!"

"That was clear, my child," Randolph answered. "Don't you believe me?"

Magnus caught up to him on his other side, butting into the conversation with a brusque, "Maybe."

The fact that Magnus was even willing to consider Randolph's crazy ideas might have seemed surprising, but I kind of agreed with him. I knew Randolph wasn't making any sense, what with his talk of Vikings and gods, but something inexplicable about the things he was saying struck a chord deep within me. I found a small, crazy part of my mind wondering if he could possibly be right about my father being a god.

Then, of course, I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity, but not in time to stop Randolph from halting at one of the main towers, muttering to himself and staring down into the frigid, glittering waters of the Charles River. I exchanged a look with Magnus that clearly said, What the heck is going on? "Magnus," Randolph said suddenly, before either of us could voice our thoughts. "Look. What do you see?"

My brother stared down at the river. From the frown on his face I thought he was going to say something intelligent, but all he said was, "…Water?"

"No, the carved ornamentation, just below us. You see it? It's the prow of a Viking longship; this place is sacred to the Vikings!" I noticed how he said 'is', not 'was', and bit my lip. "Somewhere below us," Randolph continued, "is the wreck of a longship that was carrying cargo of incalculable value."

"I still see water," Magnus said dryly.

"And I want to hear about Dad!" I interjected.

"That's what I'm getting at," Randolph said hurriedly, and a long, low boom sounded from across the river. The bridge shook under our feet, and I instinctively grabbed the rail for support. Not too far away, maybe a mile or two at most, a dark cloud of smoke billowed above Back Bay.

"That was near your house," I observed.

Randolph's expression steeled. I didn't like the sudden hardness in his eyes. "We're out of time. Magnus, extend your hand over the river. There's a sword down there, a sword that belonged to your father. Call it. Focus on it like it's the thing you want more than anything else in the world."

"What?" Mags and I objected simultaneously.

Randolph seemed to have decided who the birthright belonged to, his eyes focused on my brother. "Magnus. DO IT."

He hesitated, then thrust his arm out over the side of the bridge, wind pulling at his dirt-flecked blond hair. Concentration settled over his face, but nothing happened—no sword came flying out of the river, at least. The bridge shook again, though, more violently this time, and horns blared. Another cloud of smoke shot up into the sky, still in the Back Bay area but much closer to us. "It's getting closer," I murmured, hoping someone would tell me that was a stupid thing to say.

I didn't know what 'it' was, but Randolph clearly did. "Alyssandra, you try it," he said wearily. "Just…please."

I tentatively reached out above the water when I glanced at my brother, who was watching me. To anyone else his expression might have been unreadable, but I knew what he was thinking. "Together?" I asked.

"Together," he said, and we both stretched our hands out. I felt stupid at first, but then I thought suddenly of Mom, of the night she and the only home I'd ever known had gone up into flames. I pretended it was her hand I was reaching for, somewhere in the murky water below, that I could somehow pull her out of the mess my life had become. Just when I thought nothing was going to happen, the water below us began churning and steaming, ice cracking and snow melting; I let out an involuntary gasp as two hand-shaped holes formed in the river's surface. I hesitated, not knowing what I was doing, but Magnus kept moving his hand, and I backed away from the bridge, watching in confusion and awe as my big brother suddenly closed his hand into a fist. Water swelled and ruptured like the bubbles I'd played with as a kid, and something long and metal flew out of the water and into Magnus' waiting hand.

"At last!" Randolph cried jubilantly, looking up at the sky; Magnus and I just stared at whatever it was he was holding. If I didn't know it was supposed to be a sword, I wouldn't have figured it out—it was slathered in barnacles and mud, and Magnus raised an eyebrow at me as I shrugged back. To be honest, with all the weird magic involved in its withdrawal, I had expected a little more.

"Hooray. I feel safer already," Magnus said.

"You can renew it! Just try."

"I dunno, Randolph…"

I tuned out my brother in favor of surveying my surroundings, wondering if anyone had seen us magically pull a sword out of a river and if we'd get arrested for it. (Years of living on the streets had made me rather paranoid.) But I didn't have much time to worry about reputations, because the center of the bridge suddenly exploded.

Flames shot toward the clouds as I was shoved violently into the rail from the force of the explosion. People screamed, and I thought my face was on fire from the sheer heat of the blast. "Ally!" Magnus yelled above the sudden chaos, glancing at me for a moment before shaking his head, as if to clear it, and running headlong toward the impact zone.

"MAGNUS!" I screamed, throwing myself after him without a second thought. I didn't know what on earth he thought he was doing—stupid brothers and their hero complexes! —but there was no way I was letting him do it alone.

"Alyssandra!" Randolph called, but his voice was mostly lost to the noise around me. When I cast a glance behind me I saw that he looked devastated, and my heart twanged, but I turned around and ran after Magnus instead of going back. He had reached the huge circle of charred asphalt that marked the source of all this weirdness, and inside it stood a man with the most purely black skin I'd ever seen. It was blacker than, well, everything. His outfit was impeccable, his hair slicked back, his face inhumanly chiselled and perfect. (Oh yes.)

I skidded to a stop beside Magnus in time to hear the stranger say my brother's name. Then his strangely-glowing eyes shifted over to me. "And Alyssandra," he said, his voice vaguely accented. Was it Scottish? "Have you come to try and stop me?" He didn't give me a chance to answer, looking a little curiously at an abandoned Corolla standing between him and us. Instead of walking around it, he walked through it, melting it right down the center as the car's sides fell to either side of him. That was probably not going to be covered by insurance.

"Give me the sword and I will spare you and your sisters' lives," Scary Fire Dude said.

The air around him rippled with heat. "What do you want with a sword?" I asked, because Magnus looked a bit confused. I honestly didn't know what was happening, but when you're a homeless kid in Boston, you see a lot of weird things. I kind of mentally shrugged and went, Whatever.

"That is none of your concern, Alyssandra," Fire Dude said smoothly. He and Randolph should have a contest to see who could say the vaguest thing. I wasn't sure who would win.

Speaking of Randolph, he had decided to catch up to us, and now stood at Magnus' shoulder. "The sword, Magnus. Use it!"

"Professor Chase." Dark Man chuckled. "I admire your persistence. I thought our last encounter would've broken your spirit. But here you are, ready to sacrifice more family members!"

I wondered uneasily what he meant by 'more' family members, but Randolph seemed to know. His voice was unnecessarily shrill as he said, "Be quiet, Surt! Go back to the fires from whence you came!"

"Give it here, boy, or I will show you the power of Muspell. I will incinerate this bridge and everyone on it." Surt raised his arms, and flames wound around his fingers like snakes; the pavement popped and bubbled under him, and small fires erupted up and down the bridge. Randolph staggered back from the heat, but I wasn't affected. I never was, not by extreme heat and not by extreme cold. I just gritted my teeth, despising the classic kind of jerk that Surt was. I might not know who—or what—he was, but I'd seen way too many bullies.

Magnus pointed his sword-thing at Surt, my own annoyance mirrored in his eyes. "Cool down, man. I have a corroded piece of metal and I'm not afraid to use it."

"Just like your father, you are no fighter," Surt said, his lip curling, and I frowned. He knew our father? But—

My thought was interrupted by a foam arrow hitting Surt in the chest.

I turned to see Blitz and Hearth running toward us, bless their hearts, sporting the strangest outfits I'd ever seen them wear. Hearth shot Surt ineffectually with foam arrows while Blitz whacked him with a dowel saying something about ducklings. I wished they hadn't gotten themselves mixed up in this crazy mess, but I felt touched that they were willing to defend us.

Randolph managed to grab Magnus' arm and mine at the same time. "We have to go. NOW!"

Magnus didn't move, probably seeing how pointless it would be, so we stood together watching our friends get backhanded and kicked away, respectively. I would have gone to help them up, but the truth is that I was way too terrified to do anything except stand there. "Enough," Surt said, and summoned himself a nifty fire sword out of nowhere, glowing white-hot. "I am annoyed now. You will all die."

"Gods' galoshes!" Blitz stammered. "That's not just any fire giant. That's the Black One!"

I looked sharply at Blitz, but he didn't seem inclined to say anything more. It almost sounded like my friend knew who Surt was, but that was impossible. Right?

I didn't get a chance to say anything, because flames suddenly licked up around Surt, smoke and heat circling outwards and wreaking havoc on the bridge. It felt like I had walked into a furnace, but for some reason I wasn't dying or otherwise hurting. From the heated conversation Magnus was having with Blitz about Hearth, it didn't seem to be affecting my brother either. He was holding Randolph up, and I watched Blitz take him and stumble away.

Surt laughed. "The sword will be mine, boy. You cannot change fate. I will reduce your world to cinders!"

Magnus clenched his fists, and for a moment I thought he was going to do something rational, like think about what he should be doing. Of course, I was not that lucky. "You're starting to aggravate me. I have to kill you now."

He started to step into the wall of spiralling flames separating us from Surt, but I snapped, "Not if I kill him first." To this day I don't know what possessed me, but I yanked the sword from Magnus' hand, ignoring the heat in favor of walking straight toward Surt.

Was that a good idea? No, probably not. But I had spent most of this day following Magnus around and waiting for him to do hilariously stupid things; it was my turn to do something hilariously stupid. With that logic in mind, I passed through the flames and whacked Surt with my new piece of corroded metal.

The fire hadn't hurt me, but my awkward swing at Surt didn't hurt him either—it just surprised him. We stared at each other, sharing a nice bonding second before he kicked me in the gut.

Maybe you're thinking, Alyssandra, that doesn't sound too bad. Sure, but Surt could really kick. I vomited and collapsed at the same time, as lame as that sounds, my entire body feeling like it was on fire. My suspicions that Surt wasn't human increased tenfold, although those suspicions were hiding in a tiny corner of my brain that wasn't screaming GAAAAAAA.

"Feeble," Surt tsked. "Trying to outdo your brother, are you? Give me the blade, Vanir-spawn. I promise you a quick death."

Magnus told Surt to do something physically difficult and dropped to his knees beside me. "Ally? Ally, are you okay?"

I gave him the sword by way of answer. Magnus took it and rose to his feet, staring at it, but there was a flash of movement in the corner of my eye. When I looked up, I did a double take; I must have been hallucinating from Surt's wicked kicking skills, because a girl on a flickering, faded apparition of a horse was circling above us. She wore chain mail and a glittering silver helmet, and a spear that looked like it was made out of concentrated sunlight glowed in her hand. Though I couldn't see much from under her green head wrap, I thought she was frowning, but she and her horse melted into smoke before I could get a good look.

Yeah, I was probably imagining things.

"The sword," Surt demanded of Magnus. "It's worth more to me freely surrendered, but if I must, I will prise it from your dead fingers."

That sounded awfully cliché, but I glanced at the sword and dropped my mouth open so fast I almost dislocated my jaw. "Mags…the sword."

His and Surt's eyes both widened when they saw it. Instead of a crusty, unappetizing metal rod, my brother was now holding a thirty-inch, double-edged silver sword, with a leather grip and a silver pommel. Viking runes were engraved in a groove that ran down the length of the blade, and Surt stepped back uneasily as he seemed to read them. "You don't know what you have there, boy. You won't live long enough to find out."

I struggled to my feet, moving forward, but I wasn't fast enough. With a flourish, Surt swung his fiery scimitar.

Well, I'm really good at updating. But I've edited the first few chapters and will try to get a new one up within the week! Thanks for reading, and please review :)