Atypical (A Magnus Chase fan novel)

A Lamppost Demon From Hel

     We walked along, Alex saying he remembered an entrance to Valhalla nearby somewhere. It was a nice night, but to me, something felt wrong. The cool breeze seemed a little too crisp, and I pulled my jacket closer around me. The bushes rustled in a sinister way, but other than that, the street was so quiet we could have been in a graveyard. This was crazy for a Boston evening at the Waterfront. Usually rich people were throwing their parties or going out for walks in the warm summer nights.

     "Wait," Alex said. All of a sudden, it registered that I could only hear one pair of footsteps besides my own. We both turned around under a lamppost, which was probably not the best place on the street to survey your surroundings. "Amara?"

     She had stopped under the last light, thirty feet away. I may have mentioned how poorly lit these streets were. Her head was down, her eyes closed. The wind gusted violently, making a howling sound like a pack of wolves. I may have also mentioned that I don't like wolves much. Amara looked up, her eyes open, but not in response to Alex. I gasped.

     Her eyes were solid black, no white at all. They weren't glassy, but looked like fog and mist had condensed with so much black emotion it had become solid. It reminded me all too much like a monster's or spirit's eyes. Amara's face was expressionless, cold, and indifferent.

     She jumped, and then, faster than I could compute, she was standing on top of the lamppost, which I didn't even know was possible. She jumped again, towards me, but I was too slow to process what was happening. Alex pushed me out of the way and Amara landed swiftly next to us.

     "What are you doing?" I yelled. But she just swung herself around the post, and kicked my chest, hard. I went skidding backwards, but I jumped up, and pulled Jack off my chain.

     He sprung into sword form. "What's up?" he asked, all casual-like.

     "Amara," I answered. When he saw Alex pull out his garrote, and saw demon Amara standing once again on top of the lamp, he got the general gist.

     "Hey, what's the idea?" Alex demanded. Something was definitely wrong. I don't think Amara was doing this on her own. It's like something was...controlling her. Amara didn't answer, and lunged at Alex instead. Alex swung his garrotte at her, and I didn't have time to stop him.

     "Wait!" I yelled. He stopped and looked at me like what?, but the move cost him dearly. Amara somehow caught the other end of his garrotte, which had never been done before. Alex and I gaped as she flicked it, turning it into a rope, a trick Alex had shown only me and my friends at dinner. There was no way possible that she could have known about it, much less how to do it.

     Her eyes still occluded by the black, she flung the rope at Alex, and quicker than I could compute (once again), she had Alex struggling against his own weapon, tied up from his chest to his waist, arms pinned, on the lamp pole.

     "Magnus!" he yelled. I ran forward with Jack, and sliced at the rope. It didn't give, and too late I remembered what Alex had told me at dinner, and the smug look on his face all too fresh in my memory. Can't be broken. If it seriously couldn't be broken by one of the strongest weapons in the Nine Worlds, I seriously needed to ask Hearth what stupid rune he had used, and add it to my Christmas list for 'things to save my butt in battle'.

     Amara still had the ends of the garrotte in her hands, and again, I was too slow. Idiot Magnus. Alex looked up, panicked, and I shouted "No!" She pulled on the ends tightly, and Alex sucked in his breath. I tugged on the ropes with my hands wildy, but his head lolled against his chest, his breathing lacking.

     "Amara stop, AMARA STOP!" I screamed desperately. If he died outside Valhalla, he would not be resurrected. I would never forgive myself for letting him die. Astonishingly, she dropped the ends of the cord. She disappeared. I looked around in a panic.