Yeah. You don’t joke about fire giants. Not when you don’t want them to show up. Although the first one I saw didn’t do anything other than give me a bit of a salute when I looked his way.

I studiously ignored it. I wasn’t in the mood to even acknowledge that I could tell he wasn’t a scruffy teenaged street punk. Instead, I idly wondered why Surtur was so keen on starting Ragnarok when fire giants clearly didn’t like winter, and quickened my pace towards school.

Maybe he didn’t care if everyone got frozen as long as he got to beat Odin. Well. He wasn’t going to get my help on the matter.

But would he get my father’s? Then again, Loki’s enthusiasm for Ragnarok seemed to have faded lately. Unless he figured climate change would take care of it or something.

Maybe I was getting through to him. I slipped through the gates, quite a bit behind Kanesha. She had wanted to drop by the library before first period. Given how early first period started, I thought that was rather insane. You would never catch me in school any earlier than I had to be, superhuman stamina or no superhuman stamina.

Instead, Prue waited by the gates. “Hey. You.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Got a name.”

“Need to talk to you.” She fell in next to me. “Got a problem.”

“What kind of a problem?”

“Something up your alley.” She let out a breath. “At first, I thought it was a fairy, but it’s not. It’s a ghost.”

“Last one of those I dealt with almost got Clara lust imped.”

She hesitated, then laughed. “It’s not the ghost that’s the problem per se. It’s the ghost that needs help.”

“So did the last one.” I wasn’t convinced this wasn’t going to end with lust imps.

“Okay. The ghost has some unfinished business. I can’t take care of it. I thought you might. It doesn’t involve killing anyone, but it might involve beating on her, well, ex a little.”

I held up thumb and fingers. “A little.” I didn’t want to kill anyone again any time soon. I’d decided I really didn’t like how it made me feel.

“She has some messages she wants delivered, but she also wants her ex to give her guitar to somebody else. He might not want to do so.”

“And this needs somebody like me?”

Prue grinned. “I would definitely have to beat on him. He’s likely to take one look at you and…”

“I’m not his type, am I?”

“You are absolutely his type.”