The Book of Doom - By Barry Hutchison Page 0,25

head. Together.”

Odin’s eye widened with surprise. He flipped up his eyepatch, revealing a third one below. The cartoon eye drawn on it shared the surprise of the real one. “You dare defy a god?” he asked.

Zac held his gaze. “Defy is such a strong word. It’s just, you know, beheading a guest seems like bad manners.”

“What are you doing?” Herya hissed, but Zac didn’t reply.

Odin gave a curt nod, as if coming to a decision. “Very well,” he said. “You are indeed our honoured guests here in Valhalla. Both of you.”

With two fingers he gestured for more Vikings to step forward. “As such, we will kill you both. Together.”

Despite Zac’s lightning reactions, he couldn’t move quickly enough. Two of the Norsemen caught him by the arms and forced him down on to his knees. He watched helplessly as Odin let the axe clatter to the floor and wrapped his fingers round Angelo’s throat. The god lifted the boy smoothly into the air.

“Allfather, this is wrong!” protested Herya. “Let him go. In the name of Baldr, let them both go.”

“Do not defy me, Valkyrie,” the Allfather warned. “Lest you be punished too.”

There was the sound of applause from high in the rafters. It took a moment for Zac to realise he was listening to the beating of feathery wings. Eight Valkyries – larger and older than Herya – alighted around Odin and the Vikings.

“Herya,” growled the largest Valkyrie. “Know your place!”

“But, Mother—”

“Know your place!”

“But this is not right! They’re just travellers. They don’t know the rules.”

The head Valkyrie took two large paces forward. There was a noise, sharp and sudden like the cracking of a whip, as the back of her hand struck Herya’s cheek, sending the girl spinning to the floor.

“Apologies, Allfather,” the Valkyrie said, bowing respectfully. She lifted the squirming Herya with one hand. “My daughter shall be severely reprimanded for her insolence.”

Odin grunted and nodded. Zac struggled against the arms holding him, but he was pinned too tightly. He could only watch as Herya was dragged back up to the ceiling and devoured once more by the shadows.

“Now, where were we?” the Allfather asked. “Oh, yes, I was about to tear your head off.” He chuckled merrily. “Any last words?”

Angelo was fighting for breath, digging his fingers in between his throat and Odin’s hand. His legs kicked uselessly, as if he were riding an invisible bicycle that was going nowhere.

“Well?” Odin demanded. “Anything you would like to say?”

With some effort, Angelo managed a nod. The assembled Vikings leaned in to listen. This was the best entertainment they’d had in centuries, and they didn’t want to miss a moment.

Angelo’s voice was little more than a wheeze. Zac groaned when he heard the boy’s words.

“P-please d-don’t make m-me angry,” he said. “You w-wouldn’t like me when I’m a-angry.”

There was silence for a moment, and then the room was filled with the raucous laughter of a hundred dead Vikings and one Viking god.

“Good one!” cried Odin, when he was finally able to compose himself. He wiped away a tear with the back of his hand, still chuckling. “You are bolder than you look, Umangelo,” he said. A flicker of discomfort crossed his face. “Heavier too,” he said more quietly.

All eyes were on Odin and Angelo now. Zac tried to stand, but the Vikings pushed him back down.

A fit gripped Angelo and his whole body started to shudder and convulse. His arms dropped to his sides, shaking wildly along with the rest of him.

Odin’s arm hadn’t lowered at all, but the tips of Angelo’s toes were now scuffing against the floor. The Allfather’s face was turning red, as if the effort of holding the boy aloft was taking all his strength. The soles of Angelo’s feet touched the ground, although Odin still hadn’t moved a muscle.

That was when Zac realised – he was growing. Angelo was growing. In that moment, something inside Zac’s head went click.

Jekyll & Hyde. A whole shelf full of Jekyll & Hyde. Gabriel had said Angelo was only half angel.

But he never said the other half was human.

Zac shuffled a few centimetres backwards on his knees, until he could retreat no further.

One of the Vikings beside Odin pointed at Angelo’s face. He laughed, but the sound was nervous and uncertain. “He’s going an awfully funny colour, Allfather,” he said.

“Is anyone hot in here all of a sudden?” asked another of the Norsemen.

And at that, all Hell broke loose.

NGELO’S FINGERS BALLED into tight fists, then opened again suddenly. Smoke