Crux (6 page)

“Not her. Just
him
.” A thin Asian woman points over my head.
“That man nearly knocked me down pushing through the line.”

“That was an accident.” His breaths part my hair, coating my ear. “We’re together. Aren’t we, honey?”

I stare at Mr. Stone, praying he can read fear in my eyes. I hope he’s convinced I’m not with this clown.

“If you’ll move this way, sir, we can speak in private.” Mr. Stone’s voice is determined but calm. Another guy shows up and stands next to him. I’m guessing he’s some plainclothes security guard. “We don’t want a scene,” Mr. Stone continues. “I’m sure we can clear this up if you’ll just—”

“I know where you shop now,” the bald guy whispers against my face, making my skin crawl. “Later, Blondie.” I fly forward, crumpling against the check-out conveyer belt, as Cue Ball bursts past me and bolts out the front entrance.

Everyone stares at the open, automatic doors. Rain splatters in from the wind, and beyond, only the darkness of night remains. The other shoppers’ eyes turn to me. Questions and annoyance, pity and confusion, their expressions run the gamut, and my normal, little shopping trip ends up anything but.

The cashier leans over and says, “Miss? That’ll be sixty-two-fifty.”

7

As I roll out of bed, I catch my reflection in the wall mirror. My hair sticks up six ways from Sunday, but I’m exhausted and past caring. I spent half the night trying to concoct an excuse to get out of having dinner with Grey’s family, and the other half waiting for the army guys to find me.

My eyes shift toward the front door. Coffee and a perusal of the morning paper sounds relaxing, but a hot bath sounds better. I leave the suds to form while I get the amulet from its hiding place at the bottom of my laundry basket. Careful to avoid touching the stone, I drape the chain over the faucet of the tub, so I can study the necklace.

I ease into the hot water, and the stress drains from my body. Hanging there, over my sparkly, blue painted toenails, the amulet shines, dangerous and beautiful. “What are you really?” I murmur as though the stone can answer. “How many lives have you helped or ruined? Jeff says you need to go. If your power corrupts people who try, how can anyone destroy you?”

Leaning up through two feet of bubbles, I stare at the ice-like stone. Maybe I only imagined the scene at the bank. “How can something so small …” My fingers inch closer and brush the gem.

As before, my lungs squeeze under the sensation that I’m being shoved down a three-inch pipe. I gasp for air, but the pressure seems less painful this time, maybe because I know what to expect. The power of the amulet transports me to the same courtyard where the rune stones jut into the sky twelve feet or more.

Snow no longer coats the landscape; green colors the meadow while the sun burns white-hot in a cloudless sky.

Across from the courtyard where I stand, men work hoes and picks in a huge garden. They dress in brown burlap-type robes, which they secure in the middle with woven belts. Their legs are covered in animal skins, laced together with thin strips of leather. My guess is they are priests or monks from the stone temple across the lawn. I didn’t see that building the first time I visited.

No one seems to notice the naked girl in their midst. I’m standing there in all my glory, a few bubbles still stuck to my skin, but they pass by as if I’m not even here. I’m equal parts offended and relieved.

A man, wearing knee length mail, limps from behind the largest rune stone holding a burlap sack. Dishwater blond hair lies plastered against his brow; his lined face is careworn and haggard. “Brother Mica,” the man says as he drops to one knee and hangs his head. “I have failed. The task falls to you now.”

“Orn. Is that you, my son?”

Orn?

Reaching inside the bag, Orn produces the amulet that hangs on my bathroom faucet. I’d know that awful thing anywhere. The monk relieves Orn of his burden. The necklace doesn’t appear to burn him as he handles it. He calls his homies over and they ooh and awe over the trinket until one becomes overzealous, and the monks begin arguing like a bunch of women in a Turkish bazaar.

The scene clouds up and refocuses inside a building where the same guys appear to converse at some official council meeting. One guy, maybe the head honcho, stands in front of the others. Beneath his fur hat with horns, he puffs out his chest, his arms gesturing as though his opinion should be accepted without question.

“The task to defeat this darkness is left to us.”

“Brother Vistna, how may we achieve this feat? Will God protect us if we house the evil stone … ?”

My head gets heavy; their voices distort as if I’m listening underwater. I can’t hear them, exactly, but I
feel
the intent of their words. The brethren seem to understand what the amulet is, what its capabilities are, and they form a plan.

Men of different hierarchy and positions are brought within a center circle. Some put their hands on the men’s shoulders and chant. Others dance around the circle, leap or writhe on the ground.

The Grand Poohbah with the horns on his hat shouts, “Swear your oaths brothers! Swear your obedience.”

The men pound their chests with tight fists. “We swear.”

“Swear your silence.”

More pounding. “We swear.”

The scene before me swims again, swirling like a whirlpool of colors in a slush drink machine until I drop the stone and sit trembling in my bath.

Crap.

Blades of grass from the monk’s garden float in the frothy suds around my feet. This is real, either that or I’m totally insane.

Dang you, Jeff.

Steam fills every crevice of the bathroom, billowing up from the still hot water. The trip took a lot longer in my mind than it did in reality.

The smell of lavender wafts off my skin as I get out of the tub, slip into my bathrobe, and wrap my wet hair in a towel. I’m ready for that paper now; that and a good bludgeoning to the head to forget the mess I’m in.

Wet feet leave prints across the floor as I plod through the apartment to the front door. The second I open it, I freeze.

Jeff stands there with his hand fisted as though preparing to knock.

Seriously?

I peer out into the hall, checking both ways to satisfy myself there’s no one else coming. That’s when I catch sight of the dog—although said dog looks more like a black, shaggy bear.

Who’s next, the Easter Bunny?

The hulking beast trots past me and straight into my apartment. I open the door the rest of the way and gesture for Jeff to enter. “Might as well make yourself at home, too.”

The animal climbs on top of my mattress, scratches around in my blankets, and lies down.

I throw up my hands. “Can you shut the door? I’ll be right back.” I grab some underwear, jeans, and my new, red T-shirt with a blingy rhinestone peace sign on the front and disappear into the bathroom to change. “What are you doing here, Jeff?” I yell through the door as I tug on my jeans. I imagine it has something to do with the twenty panicked voice mails I left on his phone last night after ‘Baldy’ tried to abduct me in the grocery.

“You left twenty panicked voice mails in my inbox, why else would I be here?” Insinuation lies barely concealed in his words, but when I peek around the corner his face is dead serious.

Funny.

“Okay, okay.” I emerge from the bathroom, rubbing a towel on my wet hair, and as I drop into a chair. “Remember the day we met? There were three big guys in army fatigues in on the money grab.” I pause to make sure he’s with me. At his nod, I continue. “Well, they followed me after you left. I guess they wanted my share, too. They even went so far as to have a taxi tail me, but I lost them in a parking garage.”

Jeff stands and walks to the kitchen. I swivel in the leather chair Grey assembled for me, so I can track his movements. He opens the refrigerator door and peeks inside.

“Anyway … one of them showed up at the market last night, said they’ve been looking for me. Dude, I was totally freaked. That and … I touched the amulet again, Jeff. I believe you. Well, I believe something sketchy surrounds you and the necklace thingy. No offense, but I need to know how to get rid of you … both of you.”

He glances up from the refrigerator, his expression blank. “You have nothing but bologna and cheese in here.”

“Ahh! I know that! Why is everybody so fascinated with my lunch choices?” I thumb behind me, “And what’s with the mutt?”

As if on cue, the dog lifts his head from my bed. I’m already imagining the eau de canine he’s infecting my blankets with.

“You said you wanted a dog.”

“Dog, yes. Woolly mammoth, not so much.” I blow out a breath. “Oh, whatever. What’s its name?”

“
His
name is Fenris, and he’s no ordinary dog.”

The dog scratches his ear and shakes. That I believe. “So, what do I do, Jeff? Truthfully I think you’ve got the wrong girl. I’m not brave. I tend to run when things get dicey, so I have no idea why you think I should be trusted with this, er … whatever it is.”

“Tell me what you saw when you touched the amulet.”

I hesitate for only a second as I describe my latest experience. His eyes light up when I tell him how the monks recovered the necklace and about the meeting they’d held.

“The amulet has been known to give its bearer visions of its history,” Jeff says. “The occurrence is coveted, and the information that’s revealed is valuable.”

“What do you mean?”

Jeff shifts in his chair. “The priests devised an intricate plan of protection. Three tiers of handlers exist for Alarr. That is the name of the amulet, by the way. The first are the Wielders—what you are.

Wielder?
I swallow.

“They are the descendants of Orn, and there may be as few as one or two alive in the world at one time who can complete this task. Next are the Konrs, connected to Thorolf and Haddr. They use Alarr’s power for evil and must not be allowed access. The Guardians are the third and last tier. They can be anyone of value or who proves trustworthy. They protect the Wielders and keep Alarr from the Konrs.

My eyes narrow. “Are you my Guardian?”

“No. That is not possible. The role of Guardian is one of honor and sacrifice. He is Húskarl, a free man in service to another person—a relative or friend who can travel everywhere you go without raising suspicion.”

An insistent knock bangs on my door. I stand to answer it. Grey waits in the hall, clutching a bag of Duncan’s Bagels. He glares at me, walks straight to my kitchen, and tosses the bag on the counter before turning to Jeff who is now standing, too.

I position myself between them.

“Who is this? What’s a Guardian?” His tone is low and fierce. “Someone better start explaining.”

My mouth pops open. “How did you … ? You were listening?”

Grey doesn’t answer, but his nostrils flare. I can hear him suck air through them. The men glare at each other. Their chests puff up like two World Wrestling Federation action figures.

“Who the hell are you?” The question is fired from both of them at the same time.

From the bed, the dog gives no more than a yawn in response to the testosterone twosome.

Yeah, he’s a real killer.

I roll my eyes and sink back into my seat. “Um … guys?”

“Stay out of this, Birdie,” Grey warns.

Oh, for heaven’s sake.

“Who are you, her pimp?” Grey says to Jeff. “Get out of here old man, or I won’t be responsible for what I’m going to do to you.” His hands are fists at his side, his knees slightly bent. Every muscle in his body coiled and ready for a fight.

Surprisingly, Jeff’s shoulders relax. He crosses one hand to his bicep and rubs the blond stubble on his chin with the other. “Who is he, Birdie?”

“He’s a friend. He helped me get away from the apes that followed me the same day I met you.”

Grey’s head snaps toward me. His brow creases in confusion.

“How well do you know him?” Jeff continues.

I see the wheels turning in Jeff’s head, and I don’t like the direction I think he’s headed. “Forget it, Jeff. Not him.”

“Uh … you know I can hear you.” Grey says, crossing his arms. “And not me, what?”

Instead of answering him, I stroll across the room to my new dog, letting him smell my hand.

“How much did you overhear, boy?”

Grey’s eyes narrow. “Name’s Grey Mathews. And I heard most of it, I think, but I don’t know what any of it means.”

“That makes two of us,” I mumble. When the dog licks my fingers, I rub his ear, and the mongrel leans into the scratch. Impressed with the progress, I crawl on my mattress and lay alongside him, surprised to find he doesn’t smell bad.

As I run my hand over his coat, I discover he’s much softer than he looks. “Hey, buddy,” I croon. In response, the dog makes a low rumbly noise. I bolt up, thinking it’s a growl, before I identify the rhythmic purr similar to a cat’s.

“Birdie, go get the amulet. I’m going to explain the situation to your friend.”

I roll from my bed and plod into the bathroom. Although I know I’ll never allow Grey to get caught up in my mess, there’s a part of me that wants him to understand what’s happening. Somehow Grey knowing makes me feel less alone, less psychotic.

I return, careful to only touch the chain, and lay the amulet on the kitchen counter.

Grey joins Jeff and me on the other side of the little peninsula. Grey’s eyes brim full of unanswered questions.

“Listen, both of you, while I explain.” Jeff has this easy confidence when he speaks. He doesn’t yell, but somehow I have a feeling I’m going to do whatever he says anyway.

“Look at the amulet. Every shape here has meaning. The lion’s mouth holding the stone represents the strengths of animals. These waves are water, and the wings represent flight.” Jeff’s fingers point out the various decorations. “Here, the sun’s rays indicate fire. The stone itself is healing, life and death. The stone has great power for a Wielder, but Guardians cannot use its energy. In the past, however, they have manipulated others for their own gain. That is why they must be chosen with care.”

Grey lifts his head. His brow creases as if to say, you’re not buying into this whack story, are you?

I am. I’ve seen things Grey hasn’t.

Jeff lifts the amulet and drapes the chain around my neck. My body tenses, and I take a step back.

“Alarr Skakki Víglundr,” Jeff says. “Birdie? Will you trust me to try an experiment with the amulet? To get used to Alarr’s power? I won’t let anything harm you.”

I nod, interested.

“Now, close your eyes—”

“Wait a minute. Is this safe?” Grey’s focus flits between Jeff and me. “I’m not saying I buy into all this voodoo crap, but I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“Worried about her, are you?” Jeff asks with a smug smile. “Oh, I think you’ll do quite nicely … if you decide to take the job.”

“No job,” I counter and stare pointedly at Grey. “Dude, aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“I skipped. What job, Birdie? What’s he talking about?”

I raise my hand. “Never mind, it’s all right. I want to try his … experiment.” I’m shaking and tense, but somehow, I understand I have to start down the path if I’m ever going to get this over with and reach the end. What I hope will be waiting are peace and a normal life. “I’m ready.”