The Sword of Summer (Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard, #1)

by Rick Riordan

“What was that sound?” Mallory scowled at me. “Why do you have a dwarf and an elf in your room?” “SQUIRREL!” Blitzen yelled, slamming my door shut. Hearth said the same thing in sign language—a gesture that looked disturbingly like a set of mandibles rending flesh. T.J. looked like he’d been slapped across the face. “Magnus, what have you done?” “I need to leave the hotel. Now. Please don’t stop us.” Mallory cursed in what was maybe Gaelic. Our little hallway group was a veritable United Nations of Cussing. “We won’t stop you,” she said. “This is going to get us laundry duty for a decade, but we’ll help you.” I stared at her. “Why? You’ve known me less than a day.” “Long enough to know you’re an idiot,” she grumbled. “What she’s trying to say,” T.J. offered, “is that hallmates always protect each other. We’ll cover your escape.” The door of my room shook. Cracks spiderwebbed from the nameplate. A decorative spear fell off the wall of the corridor. “X!” T.J. called. “Help!” The half-troll’s door exploded off its hinges. X lumbered into the hallway as if he’d been standing just inside, waiting for the call. “Yes?” T.J. pointed. “Magnus’s door. Squirrel.” “Okay.”