Struck: (Phoebe Meadows Book 1) (2 page)

As I slipped by, the scarred man’s meaty fist latched on to my forearm.

His grip was painful, even through my woolen coat.

Abruptly, he turned and headed up the stairs, practically lifting me off my feet as he tugged me behind him.

Once we emerged on the street, I gasped, trying to yank my arm back. “What are you doing?” His iron grip held firmly. “Let me go!” I turned my head frantically, trying to search for help.

People passed us on both sides, but nobody noticed my plight. Typical New York. If I’d been in my hometown, there would’ve been an uproar, with folks swarming to help me.

Before I could shout my distress again, the man snapped me tightly to his chest. His breath carried the scent of coffee and something rancid. “New York is no longer safe,” he growled, his face not even an inch from mine. “You must get…
away
. They will be coming soon.”

No crap I needed to get away! Like right now.

“Let go of me!” I braced both hands against his chest and heaved backward. “If you need money, I have a few dollars in my pocket. I’m happy to give it to you. Just…let…me…
go
!” One more push, and he finally released me.

I pivoted away, twisting into the pulse of people on the crowded sidewalk. I wove in and out manically, ducking and bobbing. Only a full block later, with many bodies separating us, did I stop and venture a glance over my shoulder. The mystery man stood where I’d left him. Even at this distance I could see his eyes were focused on mine. I had no trouble picking him out of the crowd because he was a head taller than anyone else on the entire street.

One arm rose in some sort of salute, and his jacket cuff fell away.

He was missing his right hand.

“
Ohmygods
!” I ducked around the next corner, my breath coming in short, staccato bursts. I didn’t linger. Instead, I hurried down the street, heading for home, dodging groups of pedestrians, and checking furtively behind me at regular intervals to make sure he wasn’t following.

When I finally arrived at my corner, I turned back and scanned the street one last time.

It was clear.

There was no way I was leading that guy to my doorstep.

With relief, I rushed the last few paces to my building. I rented a small studio on the top floor of a five-story complex. I keyed the door open and raced up the threadbare steps to my apartment, unlocking my door as fast as I could.

I slammed it behind me, tossing my purse and keys onto the small table next to the door, my back braced against the wood as I tried to catch my breath and calm down. My heart raced a million miles an hour.

I began to unbutton my coat with shaky fingers.

CA-CAW CA-CAW.

2

__________________________

____________

M
y head snapped toward my tiny kitchen. The room was partitioned off from my main living space by a flimsy wall that rose only ten feet up.

CA-CAW. CA-CAW
.

Holy crap!

A cool breeze wafted by my cheeks. There’s no way I’d left my window open. It was the middle of winter. I fisted my hands at my sides. Not knowing what else to do, I crept slowly toward the kitchen. There wasn’t a door—it was just an opening that led from one space to another.

CA-CAW. CA-CAAAW.

I stopped just shy of the doorway, gathering all my strength. Then I leaned over and peered slowly into the tiny galley space that held a small fridge, a stove, and two cupboards. There, perched on my ugly gray Formica counter top, was the biggest raven I’d ever seen in my life.

And I knew birds.

You couldn’t be raised on a farm in small-town America and not know the difference between a crow and a raven—and this was no crow. This raven was so big it looked like it could swallow a fat raccoon and still be hungry.

It met my gaze, staring at me for a few beats before it cocked its head at a crazy angle and let out a big, loud
CA-CAW.

“What’ve you got in there?” a voice said behind me.

“
Argh
!” I leaped back, shrieking, covering my face with both hands.

“Sorry, Phoebe,” my neighbor Ingrid said in soothing tones. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Hey, calm down there.” Her hands patted my shoulders. I began to relax. “The door was unlocked, so I let myself in. I heard noises.”

After a few more inhales and exhales, I managed to slide my hands away from my face. I placed one of my palms over my thumping heart and tried not to pass out for the second time today.

I was glad Ingrid had arrived. She could help me get rid of the giant avian sitting in my kitchen. I started to tell her that very thing, but all thought left my brain once I took in her outfit. “Ingrid…what are you wearing?”

I’d met Ingrid, who lived across the hall, the very first day I moved to New York City. She had bounded into my apartment, introduced herself, and then, without being asked, lugged box after box up five flights of stairs, assuring me that helping people she’d just met move was what she loved to do in her free time.

But this wasn’t the Ingrid I’d come to know and love.

This Ingrid was dressed like a gladiator in some time-gone-by era where people smote one another for a living. Or at the very least, they impaled their opponents with wicked-looking spears, like the one she held tightly in her left fist.

Ingrid glanced down the front of herself like she was noticing her bronze breastplate, white tunic, leather arm guards, and full-length lace-up moccasins for the first time. “Well, I can’t very well protect you if I’m not armed and ready for battle, can I?”

“Protect me? Why would I need protection?” Right then, the raven soared over the partition with a huge flap of its wings, screeching loudly.

CA-CAW. CA-CAW.

I shrieked and hit the floor.

Okay, maybe I needed a little protecting.

“Use your spear, Ingrid!” I gestured wildly at the ornate weapon. “That bird is not going back out that window without a fight. Hurry, before it pecks us to death!”

Instead of impaling the flying beast with her spear, Ingrid chuckled warmly. “Huggie, it’s nice to see you again.” Her tone was affable as she nodded to the bird, which had managed to find a new perch on one of the wooden bedposts of my bed, which sat in the middle of the small studio room. “It’s been a while, old friend, hasn’t it?”

The bird gave a giant squawk in response.

I blinked a few times.

I was crouched on the floor, arms comically wrapped around my head. I was certain the bird was going to peck out my brain, so I was doing what any logical person would do in my place. I was shielding it. I sat there, pretending I hadn’t just heard what Ingrid had said to the killer bird.

The urge to run screaming out of my apartment pressed down on me.

That, combined with the jitters and near constant heart-hammering, made it hard for me to keep still. My legs quaked, and my heart felt close to bursting. Instead of fleeing my apartment, screaming like a madwoman, I managed, “Did you just call that bird
Huggie
?”

“Yep, this here is Hugin,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Your dad sent him to help you. Kind of like your own personal animal totem. Huggie can relay thoughts. You should be able to feel something from him once you get to know him a little better.”

“Huh?” I needed to find a different position, or I was going to fall over. Instead of collapsing in a heap on the floor, which I pondered for a long, sweet moment, I edged onto my knees and shuffled over to my one and only piece of furniture that wasn’t a bed—a shabby-chic chair I’d found at a thrift store—and pulled myself onto the thing, sitting down with a thump. I bent over and rubbed my temples. “Um, Ingrid,” I mumbled, “I hate to burst your bubble, but my dad runs an Ace Hardware store in rural Wisconsin. He couldn’t possibly have sent me a gigantic raven as an
animal totem
. And even if the sky did fall, and the world spun wildly on its axis, why would he sneak all the way to New York, break into my apartment, and drop a man-eating raptor in my kitchen without even sticking around to say hello?”

Why I was trying to make sense of this was the bigger mystery
.

Ingrid was obviously delusional.

“Huggie came here of his own accord. Your dad only
asked
him to come. Well, he likely made it an official order, but the bird makes his own decisions. You can’t be this old without gaining your own power, and Huggie here is as old as they come. Isn’t that right?”

The bird gave a loud squawk in answer.

I lifted my head, staring at her with an open mouth. With mock enthusiasm, I said, “Well, that’s a huge relief. I wouldn’t want the bird terrorizing us to be robbed of its own free will.”

“Free will. That’s a good one, Phoebe.” Ingrid chuckled as she strode over to my closet door and pulled it open. “Okay, enough dillydallying around. We have to make haste. They’re already tracking you, and time is of the essence.”

Make haste? Time is of the essence?

Ingrid wore lumberjack shirts exclusively. Her hair was military short, and she rarely left her apartment. She had a hard edge and most certainly did not use words like
dillydally
.

“
Who
…exactly is tracking me?” I glanced warily at the raven. It had its beady eyes pinned on me.

Ingrid poked her head out of the closet, duffel bag in hand. “When you got struck today, the Norns found out about you for the first time—and let me tell you, they are biting mad. Pulling the wool over their eyes for the last twenty-four years was no small feat. Manipulating them is nearly impossible for us regular people to do—and only
barely
possible for a god.” Ingrid began yanking clothes off hangers and tossing them into the duffel bag she’d set on my bed. “If they get to you before I can get you to the Valkyrie stronghold, you’ll either be killed or tossed into one of the Nine Worlds quicker than you can say, ‘Odin’s my dad.’”

“Okay, Ingrid, I have to stop you right there.” Wearily, I stood, one hand out in front of me, partly to ward off the giant raven from coming any closer and partly because I had no idea what else to do. “I’m not quite sure how you know I got a weird shock today. I was sort of saving that to tell you over popcorn during our movie tonight, but this entire conversation is making me crazy. More crazy than usual. I don’t understand why you’re dressed up in a toga like a Roman Coliseum fighter, or why there’s a raptor perched on my bedpost, or why you’re telling me these odd things, but just to be clear, my parents go by the names Frank and Janette Meadows, and they live in Prospect, Wisconsin. They do not breed ravens, I have no idea what a Norn is, and I’m not going to any Valkyrie stronghold—whatever that is. And, better yet, if you don’t mind, I’d love to continue this entire conversation later. Maybe, say, in a week or two when we’re both feeling back to our normal selves?” I wanted so badly for my life to be normal again. “I know we were supposed to hang out tonight, but I’m okay with rescheduling so you can go back to…your play practice…or whatever it is you’re working on. How does that sound?” I nodded hopefully.

It sounded like a perfect plan to me. Maybe the best one I’d ever had.

“Not your real parents, Phoebe. I hate to break it to you like this, but as I said before, time is of the essence.” She tapped her bare wrist right below her leather arm cuff. “Your real dad fell in love with one of his shieldmaidens twenty-five years ago—which is highly forbidden, by the way. You do
not
mess with the help. They had no choice but to give you to the Meadows family when you were born. Frank and Janette did a bang-up job, if you’re interested in hearing my opinion. But there’s no more time to explain. We need to move.”

Ingrid had never given off an insane vibe before, but this was seriously over the top. “Ingrid,” I started very slowly, “how is it that you know so much about me? Or, let me rephrase—the
me
you seem to think I am.” Did that even make sense? “We’ve never met before I moved here. I would’ve remembered you. There’s no way you can know anything about me or where I come from. This is madness, and I don’t know why we’re having this conversation. I think it’s time for you to go.” I paused, remembering my unusual situation. “You know, after you help me get the bird out.” I gestured casually to the raven, which seemed content to sit and watch us, its head bouncing between us as we talked.

Ingrid was completely unfazed by my order for her to leave the premises. She kept talking like I hadn’t said anything of importance. “I know about you because Leela was my sister—
is
my sister. I was sworn to protect you the day you were born, and I take that oath very seriously.” She threw more stuff into the duffel bag.

“I take it Leela is the shieldmaiden who gave birth to me?”

Ingrid nodded.

My fake real mother. “Just to humor me—if she’s still alive, why didn’t she raise me herself? You’d think a loving mother would reject the idea of her offspring being given away by her forbidden lover.” I crossed my arms. I was tired and wanted badly to lie down.

On a bed that didn’t have a raven perched on it.

“Odin had no choice but to seal her away. It was either that or instant death. And a baby wouldn’t have survived the transition process, and even if you had, most of the Nine Worlds are harsh and unforgiving. No place to raise a child. Your survival rate would’ve been nil to none. He made the best choice he could for both of you at the time. They both love you, Phoebe, and that’s why we need to leave right now.”