“There,” Sam said. “Did you feel it? We’ve passed from Midgard into Jotunheim waters.” I pointed off the port bow. A few hundred yards away, a granite spire jutted out of the fog. “But that’s Graves Light. We’re not too far from the harbor.” Sam grabbed one of the giant’s fishing poles, which looked more appropriate for heavyweight pole-vaulting. “The worlds overlap, Magnus, especially near Boston. Go get the bait.”
