"I'm more or less dead," Zac shrugged. He climbed on to the table. "What's the worst that can happen?"

He began to advance, slowly and deliberately, along the table. "Hey, Jurgen!" he yelled. Jurgen and a few of the other nearby Vikings looked up. "She said it was an accident. Let her go."

Jurgen's eyes narrowed. Herya's widened. Down at the far end of the room, Angelo's face went pale. Nobody quite knew how to react as Zac continued along the tabletop.

"You dare tell me what to do?" Jurgen growled.

"I'm not telling you. I'm asking you nicely," said Zac as he arrived next to them. Even standing on the table, Zac was barely the same height as Jurgen. The Viking's ginger beard seemed to bristle with agitation. "Please. Pretty please with sugar on top. Let her go."

The laughter and cheering had choked off into silence, and now you could've heard a pin drop in Valhalla. All eyes were on Jurgen, waiting to see what he would do next. Zac could feel the tension in the air. Any moment now, the crowd could turn ugly. Or uglier, at least.

"I could rip you in two, boy," Jurgen said.

Zac held his gaze. "You could try."

A low Ooooh went round the table. Jurgen's eyes darted to the other Vikings around him.

"Or you could be the bigger man and let her go, then get back to enjoying the party," Zac suggested.

Jurgen ground his rotten teeth together. "Very well," he said at last. His hand opened and Herya pulled free. "She is free to go."

"Thank you," said Zac.

The big Viking cracked his knuckles. "I'll make you pay for her stupidity instead."

"Hey!"

The voice from the end of the table was shrill and high-pitched. All eyes turned to Angelo, still sandwiched between the two Vikings. The angel swallowed nervously.

"Let's do that song again. What was it?" He began to clap out of time. "A giantess... she, um, wears a vest...?"

A roar of approval went round the room and the tension immediately lifted. Muscular arms came up and pulled Jurgen down into a happy bear hug, and soon he was singing along with the rest of them, his anger all but forgotten.

Zac jumped from the table and landed beside Herya. The Valkyrie eyed him suspiciously. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Interfere," Herya said. "I could have handled him myself."

"I'm sure you could have," Zac conceded.

"Why did you help me? What do you want?"

"Nothing, really," Zac said. "Although now you're free, maybe I could ask you those questions? It'll only take a few minutes."

For a long time she said nothing. Eventually she gave a sigh. "Fine. You've got two."

"Great. Is there somewhere we can go that's less a"" Zac gestured around at the Viking horde a" "that?"

"Outside," Herya said, and she began walking in the direction of the door. Zac followed close behind her.

Two minutes, he mouthed as they passed Angelo.

Angelo's lips moved in reply. Hurry up. These two are squashing me. And they smell. And I'm pretty sure I need to go to the toilet again.

But Zac once again had absolutely no idea what the angel was trying to say. He gave another thumbs up, then hurried outside after the Valkyrie.

The door closed shut and the racket within was muted just a little. Herya turned to face Zac, her hands on her hips. "Two minutes," she said. "Starting now."

"I'm looking for a book," Zac began, not wasting any time. "You... um... you know what a book is, right?"

"Yes," she said, and the temperature seemed to plummet a few degrees further. "I know what a book is."

"Right, good. Well, this one has been taken from... Well, it doesn't matter where it was taken from, but it's now in Hell."

"Single or double L?"

Zac hesitated. "What?"

"Is the book in Hell, double L, or Hel, single L?"

"What's the difference?"

"Double L's a place. Single L's the daughter of Loki."

Zac tutted quietly. "Well, the place, obviously. How would the daughter of Loki have a book in her?"

Herya shrugged. "She's a big lass. You're eating into your two minutes," the Valkyrie advised. "Get to the point."

"I need to find a way into Hell, and I thought someone here might know something."

Herya's gaze was witheringly cold. "Here? In Valhalla?"

"Yeah. Well, we sort of ended up here by accident," Zac said. "I suppose it was a bit of a long shot."

"Yes," agreed the Valkyrie. "It was a bit."

Zac nodded. Suddenly he felt very stupid. "Yeah. Daft idea, really." He turned and pulled open the door. Roars of laughter rushed past him. "Sorry for wasting your time. Thanks for the water."

"Wait."

Zac turned back.

"I said it was a long shot," the Valkyrie said. "I didn't say you were wrong."

NGELO WATCHED THE door close again and felt his heart sink. The din in the hall was deafening. The smell of stale Viking sweat was all around him. The singing had degenerated into drunken slurring, and flecks of foamy spit felt like scattered showers all along the table.

He was alone in a room filled with godless heathens. OK, technically not godless. They had plenty of gods. Too many, if anything. There was only one God as far as Angelo was concerned, and you wouldn't catch Him singing about what lurked under a giantess's skirt.

A tankard of ale was slid in front of him. He gave it a quick prod, nudging it away. A rough, scarred hand swooped and grabbed the tankard and it was downed in one noisy schlurp.

The song reached some sort of shambling conclusion. The Vikings all cheered at this, but then Angelo was beginning to suspect they'd cheer at pretty much anything.

"More song!" shouted someone along the table who was apparently too drunk to even have a bash at full sentences. As expected, everyone cheered. Everyone, that is, except Odin.

"No, no, no!" he bellowed. "Enough singing. Let's dance!"

A roar of delighted agreement made Angelo cover his ears. All around the table, Vikings began to shout out the names of their favourite dances.

"The Filthy Hag!" cried one.

"Too slow," said Odin. "We need something upbeat."

"The Shepherd's Daughter," suggested another of the Vikings. He stood up and threw his hands above his head. No one was quite sure why.

"And who's going to be the daughter?" Odin asked. "You?"

The standing Viking thought about this. He lowered his arms and sat down.

"The Deathly Hallows?" volunteered someone else.

Odin shook his head. "No, no. Far too long and complicated. We'd be here all bloody night." He clicked his fingers and pointed along the table. "You," he said. "What's your name again?"

Angelo swallowed nervously. "Um... Angelo."

"Umangelo, right," said Odin. "What about you, Umangelo? What dances do you know?"

"I, uh, I don't really know any."

Odin banged a fist on the table. Angelo jumped in time with all the dishes and plates. "You must know one dance," Odin insisted. "Everyone knows one dance. Come on, boy, think."

Angelo thought. With the eyes of a hundred dead Vikings and their god burrowing into him, he thought harder than he had ever thought in his life until a" at last a" a single word popped into his head.

He stood up. He cleared his throat. "OK," he said. "I've got one."

Zac looked at Herya expectantly. "So... what? You do know something?"

"I know a lot of things," Herya said. She gave a short snort of laughter. "You don't think this is all I do, do you? Serving drinks to meatheads? I travel. I go on adventures. I see things."

"Right," said Zac. "Well, good for you. But what about the book? Do you know about the book?"

"Maybe. Where exactly is it?"

"I already told you, it's in Hell."

Herya sighed. "Yes, I know that, but where exactly is it? What circle is it on?"

"The tenth."

"There is no tenth."

"There is now."

The Valkyrie's eyebrows rose in surprise. "They've built a new circle in Hell?"

Zac shrugged. "Looks like it."

"Must be an important book."

"It is. Hell calls it the Book of Doom. It's also got the potential to be the most powerful weapon in existence. Or so I'm told."

Before Herya could respond, the door at Zac's back was yanked open. Angelo staggered out. His face was red and slick with sweat. Odin stood behind him, bending down so he could hold on to the boy's hips. As Angelo and the Allfather emerged, Zac realised there was a whole train of Vikings following in single file behind them.

"Conga, conga, cong-a!" they hollered, as Angelo led the line out into the snow. "Conga, conga, cong-a!"

Angelo met Zac's unblinking stare. Help me, he mouthed, then he was off leading the conga in a wide circle round the Great Hall.

"Conga, conga, cong-a!" chanted the horde, kicking up clumps of snow on every third word. By the time the end of the line came out through the door, the front was making its way back in again.

Now would be a good time, said Angelo silently, but Zac just watched as the long snake of Vikings danced their way back inside Valhalla, and closed the door behind them.

Zac and Herya stood in the near silence, listening to the soft pitter-patter of the falling snow.

"Well," said Zac at last. "There's something you don't see every day."

Herya gave a shrug. "You'd be surprised. You want Argus."

Zac frowned. "Who?"

"Greek demon. He sees everything. If Hell's had an extension built, he'll know about it."

"Where will I find him?"

"You won't," Herya said. "You can't find him."

"Oh."

"But I can. I'll take you to him."

"Right. Well, thanks a" but no, thanks," said Zac. "I work alone."

Herya glanced at the door through which the conga had just passed.

"Yeah, except him. I'm sort of stuck with him," Zac said. "Long story."

The Valkyrie folded her arms. "Well, that's the deal on the table. You want to find the book, you need to find Argus. You want to find Argus, you need to bring me." She shrugged. "Your choice, mortal."

Back in the hall, the conga line had broken up. Everyone had staggered and stumbled back to their places at the table, clapping Angelo on the shoulder and cheering as they passed his spot on the bench.