Struck: (Phoebe Meadows Book 1) (37 page)

Some Valkyrie’s preferred a longer kyrtill, so nothing impeded their movements. But I liked the pants. These were pretty kickass. I’d never been tempted to wear leather before, but were by far the softest pants I’d ever owned.

The only thing I’d insisted on making my own was the footwear.

Valkyries usually wore simple leather shoes, but I knew I needed more. My request had been granted, but no Valkyrie knew what a Doc Marten was, so I’d had to draw a map to the shoe department at Macy’s where I worked.

The next day I’d found a beautiful pair of high lace-up boots outside my door.

Door was a loose interpretation.

The entire stronghold was literally carved out of the side of a sandstone mesa, just like the Pueblo Indians had done with their cliff dwellings. The only thing different were the Valkyries had modern conveniences, such as beds, furniture, you name it. Things ran on energy harnessed by the sun, which is why they’d chosen New Mexico in the first place. Sunny days were the norm here. The workings were far more advanced than solar. They assured me some day humans would catch up.

Because of the arrangement we’d made to get the guys in, Fen and Tyr were not allowed in the main area. So the three of us, and Sam, had our own separate quarters a half a mile away. They were a little less high tech, but they’d worked just fine.

“Don’t worry, Phoebe. You’ll find yours soon enough,” Ingrid said. “Our weapons have a way of knowing when we need them. My guess is you’re still too green, so it’s waiting to reveal itself like a present on Christmas morning.”

I took a few practice swings with the pickax, air whizzing by the blade as it came down swiftly. I’d grown immeasurably stronger during my stay here. Ingrid insisted I feed from the tree every other day. I was toned and strong. My balance was much improved and I’d learned to fight with my hands.

The only thing we were waiting on was learning how to harness my inner energy.

Ingrid had insisted I wait until I was ready, as it was “a tricky thing to learn.” I wasn’t in a position to dictate anything, so I went along with the agenda. The only thing that occupied my mind, urging me to find my weapon and harness my energy, was finding my mother.

We had encountered a dark elf when we were fleeing New York City, and it had told us they were keeping my mother in Svartalfheim, their home realm, alluding to torture among other things. I couldn’t get those thoughts out of my head.

Every time I brought up the fact my mother needed rescuing, and we had to go get her, Ingrid replied, “Your mother is the strongest Valkyrie I know. She will endure. When you’re ready, we go.”

I swung the pickax in the air again, pinwheeling it with my arm, making my way over to a bales of hay. Each was a different shape and size. With thoughts of my mother in danger, I swung the axe down with everything I had, embedding it solidly in the middle of the red X painted roughly over the straw.

The bale exploded handily, hay flying everywhere, each side toppling to the ground, rocking like two dead weights before the lay still.

“That was great.” Ingrid clapped, her voice sounding genuinely appreciative. She strode over, looking fierce as always. She wore her blonde hair in a flattop, but she was one of the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. “That was a better than what you did with the cudgel all day. How does that weapon feel in your hands?” With the cudgel I’d only managed to spray hay everywhere, beating the bales to death like a frustrated child fisting a feather pillow.

I shrugged, bringing the ax up to inspect it, turning it over in my hand. “Honestly, it’s nothing special. It doesn’t hum in my hand, but I have a hard time imagining this is my weapon.” Not only was the blade dull, calling it a blade at all was iffy. It was more like a tool you’d use to climb Mount Everest with. The handle was chipped and warn. It was not a weapon anyone would take seriously.

No one would run screaming if they saw me brandishing this pickax.

“No, you’re likely right, this isn’t it, but we gotta go with the weapons we have access to,” she agreed. “Give it another try. Maybe it’ll sing this time.”

I eyed it. “Does this even qualify as a weapon?” I flipped it to my left hand, taking a few swings. I had mastered using both hands and pretty proud of my newfound agility. I wouldn’t exactly classify me as a klutz before, but smooth wasn’t in my repertoire either. I’d been a swimmer in high school, and the only thing I’d ever swung before hitting the Valkyrie stronghold was a baton in junior high and a baseball bat during our family picnics. “I think we should call it a tool from now on. If this is truly my weapon, I’m going to be the biggest pansy in Valkyrie history. It might get me voted out of the sisterhood before I even join.”

Ingrid chuckled. “You haven’t met Helga yet. Her weapon is a hammer. And we’re not talking Thor hammer here. We’re talking hardware store hammer. But,” Ingrid shook her head appreciatively, “the girl can make that puppy sing. I’ve seen her take out more eyes than you can count. She uses that claw like it’s an extension of her hand. Brutal.”

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About the Author

Amanda Carlson
is a graduate of the University of Minnesota, with a BA in both Speech and Hearing Science & Child Development. She went on to get an A.A.S in Sign Language Interpreting and worked as an interpreter until her first child was born. She’s the author of the high octane Jessica McClain urban fantasy series published by Orbit, and the Sin City Collectors paranormal romance series. Look for these books in stores everywhere. She lives in Minneapolis with her husband and three kids.

Find her all over social media

Website:
amandacarlson.com

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Other Books by Amanda Carlson

Jessica McClain Series:

BLOODED

FULL BLOODED

HOT BLOODED

COLD BLOOED

RED BLOODED

PURE BLOOED

BLUE BLOODED (COMING 2016)

Sin City Collectors:

ACES WILD

ANTE UP

ALL IN

Phoebe Meadows:

STRUCK

FREED (coming Fall 2016)

Nothing is created without a great team.

My thanks to:

Awesome Cover design: Damon Za

Digital and print formatting: Author E.M.S

Copyedits/proofs: Joyce Lamb

Final proof: Marlene Engel