Struck: (Phoebe Meadows Book 1) (3 page)

BOOK: Struck: (Phoebe Meadows Book 1)
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“Sealed her where
exactly
?” Morbid curiosity was apparently now in charge.

Ingrid moved to my dresser and opened my underwear drawer and began shoveling things into the bag. “Well, we’ve pretty much narrowed it down to Svartalfheim, which is the only world we haven’t been able to fully search yet. Those bastards guard their entrances like rabid dogs. If she’s there, let me tell you, it’s going to be hard work to spring her. Dark elves are nasty, and tricky with their magic. We’ve been trying to find a way in for the past eight years with no luck, but we’re getting closer each day. Invaldi recently made a very big mistake, and he owes one of my sisters a favor. We’re bargaining for entrance right now.”

My head spun like someone had clocked me right in the face.

Why had I asked?

I thumped down on the edge of the chair to steady myself. “
Svartalfheim
? Come on, Ingrid!” I tossed out my arms. I had to find a way to get her to put my undies back in my drawer and leave. “I can’t believe you’re actually trying to convince me this story is real, and you can stop packing now. I’m not going anywhere, except to sleep. For like a week.”

“Yes, Svartalfheim. It’s one of the Nine Worlds. Covered in dark elves. Highly dangerous.” She zipped the now full duffel like I hadn’t said anything and slung it over her shoulder like it weighed nothing. “Enough talking. We’re wasting time. We need to get out of here. It’s not safe for you in the city any longer.”

There were so many things wrong with those sentences.

I stood, shaking my head. “I’m really, really sorry, Ingrid, but I’m not going to join you tonight. What I need is a hot cup of soup and some honest-to-goodness sleep. If you could just help me get the bird out, I promise I’ll be a good audience the next time you need another run-through with your lines. But, I’m going to stay here and crash.”

Before Ingrid could answer, the raven swooped off the bedpost, barely flapping its wings, and landed on the table next to me.

I stifled a scream as the lamp clattered to the ground.

That thing was
huge
.

CAW-CA. CAAA-CAW.

The sound was deafening this close.

“Sorry, big guy,” I squeaked, slowly standing and backing against the wall behind the chair, edging as far away as I possibly could. “I’m not really picking up on any mind action, so I think your communication lines might be broken. If I open the window a little more, do you think you could make it back out by yourself?”

Leave…now.

The words fluttered through my brain like actual feathers tickling my gray matter.

I gasped, stumbling to the side, trying to catch myself before I fell. My head snapped to Ingrid, who now wore a devilish grin, and then back to the raven perched on my tiny table.

“Huggie start talking to you? Good job, bird. Whatever it takes. Now we really have to go. You don’t want to come face-to-face with the Norns, Phoebe. There’s nothing worse. Those hags will tear you apart with their bare hands and cackle while they do it.”

Instead of moving, I responded in a monotone, my eyes locked on the bird. “What exactly is a Norn, Ingrid?”

“The Norns are sister goddesses—or witches—depending on who you talk to. They control, manipulate, and foresee what goes on with us, and tend to Yggdrasil, the tree of life. They don’t really care what goes on in Midgard.” She motioned out the window, I guessed to indicate the rest of the world. “But if you go behind their backs like we did for all those years, you’re going to pay in spades. Not even Odin is strong enough to take them on all at once. Nasty bunch of ladies. Come on. I’ll fill you in more on the road.” Ingrid whipped open my front door and disappeared through the opening.

I glanced wearily at the huge raven.

It snapped its beak a few times, and I flinched, my fingernails scrabbling on the wall.

Today, after I’d been struck, I’d felt energized. Now, with everything that had happened, from the mystery one-handed man accosting me on the subway stairs, to right this minute, I felt totally drained.

I just wanted to lie down. I
needed
to rest.

“This can’t be happening,” I muttered to myself. My twenty-fourth birthday was in less than a week. Maybe this was some sort of elaborate practical joke Ingrid was playing on me, starting with exploding fluorescent lights and ending with a telepathic raven and a mad escape from the Norns. I glanced directly at the raven, meeting its beady stare, human to bird. “Ingrid is just taking me to a costume surprise party. I’m going to look back on all of this in a few days and laugh. Isn’t that right, big, scary bird?”

There was no way this raven was going to answer me.

I brought a hand up and pressed it against my neck, checking my pulse to make sure I was actually alive and breathing, and made my decision. I was going to shut the door behind Ingrid, lock it, and crawl into bed. Then I was going to pile an army of pillows over my head so the raven didn’t peck me to death. I was pretty sure once it got hungry enough, it would leave through the window from whence it came.

If not, I’d deal with it in the morning.

Leave…now.

The words fluttered through my brain, same as before, with a small tickle and a poof of air.

My eyebrows shot above my hairline right as Ingrid stuck her head through my still open door. “Phoebe, let’s go! Right now! If you want to live, follow me. If you want to die, then, by all means, stay here. But I wouldn’t wish that kind of death on anyone.”

I glanced from Ingrid to the raven.

“Fine. I’ll go,” I squeaked. “But you have to promise me that when we get to where we’re going, I get a drink, possibly with a pineapple slice or two and definitely with an umbrella. I need an umbrella.”

3

__________________________

____________

I
trailed Ingrid down the stairs. She moved fast, but I managed to keep up. The lighting in my hallway sucked, but the leather crisscrosses holding her breastplate in place stood out starkly over her white tunic.

“Ingrid,” I said to her quickly retreating back. “Don’t you think it would be a good idea to change into regular clothes? You know, before we actually encounter the general public on the street? Plus, I don’t think spears are allowed on the subway. I’m pretty sure they’re considered deadly weapons.”

“This is New York, Phoebe. Nobody gives a crap what I’m wearing,” she tossed over her shoulder. “If anybody asks, I’ll tell them I’m an extra in a movie, and they won’t blink twice. Don’t worry about the spear.” She shook the weapon once, and it flexed, snapping smoothly down on its own to the size of a baton.

When she was done, she holstered it at her waist.

It must be a trick spear. “That was neat.” I was out of breath by the time we came to a stop in front of the door leading outside. “Can anyone buy one of those? It looked so real before.”

Ingrid ignored my foolish question, peering sideways through the glass, her back up against the wall. “Huggie’s in place already. The plan is to follow him. He chooses which tunnel we go down, understood? You have to stay close to me. Are you sure you can keep up?” She gave me a critical once-over.

I glanced down at my own attire, still laboring hard, like I’d sprinted a lap.

Underneath my wool coat I had on a gray work skirt, black tights, a blue blouse, and fairly sturdy black boots. On my head I wore a black knit hat. A black and white checked scarf finished the ensemble.

It was winter after all.

I reached up and rearranged my scarf so it covered half of my face and pulled my black knit cap down over my ears. “I think I can keep up. I mean, I don’t see why not. I’m not exactly in your kind of shape.” Ingrid obviously worked out a lot. She was a good foot taller than I was and all brawn. If it weren’t for a set of thick, curly eyelashes framing a pair of clear hazel eyes, she could almost pass for a man. My dull chestnut hair and gray eyes seemed boring in comparison. “But I can most likely get to a subway station without collapsing.” I tried to stop breathing hard to further prove my point, but my lungs weren’t cooperating. I was a swimmer in high school, and I walked the city streets regularly. I wasn’t totally incapable.

She nodded once and made her move.

I followed her out onto the street. It was full dark already. Early December brought on the short days.

I spotted Huggie perched on a flagpole across the street.

The bird turned toward us, its feathers catching the orange glow of the streetlights, making it shimmer in the low light. It was more than a bit surreal.

In fact, this whole day had been surreal.

I guess it seemed apropos that I was going to end my very strange day trailing a huge, gleaming raven named Huggie through the streets of New York City.

The bird took off, soaring down the street with unusual grace. Its powerful wings flapped fluidly and soundlessly in the dark. Ingrid followed and I jogged behind.

“Ingrid,” I panted after a while, the cold air stinging my lungs. “We’ve passed three stations so far, and it’s a friggin’ meat locker out here. Are we heading down anytime soon?”

Up ahead, the raven chose that moment to plunge into a stairwell at the corner of 72nd Street.

I stopped mid-jog.

People should be screaming their heads off right now.

If a bird that big buzzed by me as I was emerging from a subway station, I would’ve hit the ground, shouting for animal control and Valium.

Nobody noticed the bird at all.

“Come on, Phoebe. Hurry up. Time to head down,” Ingrid called over her shoulder.

I picked up the pace. “Why aren’t people freaking out about Huggie?” I asked. “He’s a big, black, terrifying bird. It should be pandemonium down there.”

Ingrid scoffed. “They don’t see him, of course. What? You think people in Midgard can see stuff from Asgard? Ha! Only if they have Aesir or Vanir blood flowing through their veins. Or if Huggie chooses to let them. But why would he? That would be courting chaos.”

I grabbed on to the handrail, yelling after her, “I have no idea what you’re talking about! As usual,” I muttered under my breath. This was so crazy. “Midgard, Asgard, Vanir…
whatever
.” I shuffled down the steps. “I need an umbrella.”

* * *

The subway car Ingrid entered was fairly empty. Other than a few curiously raised eyebrows about her choice of attire, no one said a word, which wasn’t a surprise.

Huggie had either disappeared or flown off, and I was relieved.

“Where are we headed to now?” I asked as I took a bench seat opposite Ingrid. My duffel was sprawled out next to her. The subway doors closed, and the train took off.

“We’re heading to the airport.”


The airport
? Are you serious?”

“How else are we supposed to get out of town? Well, other than a portal. But those are too risky at the moment. The shieldmaidens have a private jet parked in New Jersey at Teterboro. The modern human world has forced us to adjust over the past hundred years. Even though it’s not our preferred mode of transportation, it works fine. Usually.” Her voice ominous.

“But…” I trailed off. “Ingrid, I can’t leave town. I’m sorry, but I can’t do it. I’ve played along with you thus far, but honestly, I have to go home. I have a job and a life, and I like it in New York. I can’t just jet off on some mad tangent with you! This is so insane.”

Ingrid leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs, her face serious. “Phoebe, listen to me. I understand this has been a lot to take in and you’re freaked out. But what’s happening here is real. I’m not known for my soothing nature or my subtleness. I’m known for kicking someone’s ass four ways from Friday. That’s why I’m here. I’m the best protection you’ve got. When, and if, this blows over, you can think about returning to New York, but until then—”

The lights in the car flickered, and the car was thrown into complete darkness.

“What’s going on?” I whispered as my blood began to gallop in my veins. When she didn’t answer, I urged, “Ingrid, this isn’t funny!” I grabbed on to the handrail beside me, wrapping a hand around the metal bar. I tried to wait patiently for her to get back to me, but when no emergency lights blinked on, panic bubbled in my chest like carbonation out of a shaken can of soda.

The only illumination came from the occasional dim light outside the tunnel, giving the inside of the car a sporadic strobe of artificial light. There were some quiet murmurings from the other passengers, but it was going to take a lot more than a blackout to freak out a seasoned New Yorker.

I, however, was not seasoned. “Ingrid!” My voice was shrill because she still hadn’t answered me. “I can’t take any more! What’s going on?”

“Stay right where you are.” Ingrid’s order came from a space over by the doors closest to us. As we passed another light, I saw her crouched down.

I was restless, so I glanced out the window.

A face stared back at me.

I screamed.

The head was leathery, and it had gleaming yellow eyes. It opened its maw and snarled at me, revealing rows of sharp, pointy teeth.

Several things happened at once.

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