“No!” Pop yelled and threw himself in front of my brother. The sword sliced through his breastplate as if it wasn’t there. Pop fell, blood spurting from his chest. The Red Blade continued in an arc, returning to Loki.
I don’t remember leaping from the platform or covering the ground to where Pop lay, but somehow I was there, cradling his head in my lap, pressing on the wound, trying to stop the flow.
The whine began again. Loki was willing the blade for a second attack. But another sound brought my head up—a groan from the frozen form of Frey at Loki’s feet.
The Red Blade shot singing from Loki’s hand to bury itself in Hela’s breast. She screamed the scream of the damned. Blue light flowed into the sword, and red flames from the blade licked her skin as Death’s cold touch battled the sw
