by Kristie Cook
Eventually, I fell asleep, and it didn’t take long for my recurring nightmare to begin. It was different this time. The sun was low in the sky, and the wolf and the snake were moving across a field. I was mercifully absent. As the earth was covered in frost. As the light began to dim, a lone figure stood in a field of English lavender. He faced the onslaught without a hint of fear: my devastatingly handsome, ill-behaved, blond stranger.
Chapter Three
MY MOOD WAS JUBILANT when I slid into a seat near the middle of the lecture hall on Tuesday morning. It was my first day of school, and I’d always enjoyed listening to a good professor talk about the subject they’d dedicated their life to. Plus, there was nothing more satisfying than typing perfectly-outlined lecture notes—roman numerals, proper headings, the whole kit and caboodle. Today would be a good day.
I untied my scarf as the uncomfortable prickling sensation tickled the back of my neck. My hair bounced against my shoulders while I turned left and right, but nobody was looking at me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him standing in the doorway of the hall, staring right at me. It was the boorish Viking. The guy I figured I’d never see again, and whose stare was making me wish I’d been right. His eyes never left mine as they morphed from furious to confused to sad. Sad was an improvement over the fury I’d seen in London, but his reaction was still weird. I hadn’t done anything to this guy, and here he was again, making me feel like I’d kicked his puppy with a steel-toed boot.
Well, two could play at that game. I met his eyes with my own determined look. I’d come to this school for a fresh start, and I wasn’t about to let some guy intimidate me.
Students streamed by to take their seats, pausing to stare at the stranger’s unnatural beauty. The girls snuck glances at the soft jeans and fitted sweater that failed to conceal his impressive musculature. My unladylike thoughts fluttered against my will.
The boys’ looks were more resigned, tinged with barely-concealed envy. But the stranger stood still, staring at me, heartbreaking sorrow lining his features. I self-consciously tugged at the hammer of my necklace. The gesture caught his eye, and as he looked down at my neck, his features hardened in anger, nearly settling into the fury I’d seen in the museum. He stormed to take a seat in the back of the hall, never breaking his glare. I glared back until he looked away. Take that, Viking. I thought I’d put on a pretty good show, but when I turned back to my computer my hands were shaking.
Thankfully, Professor Carnicke took the podium and the hall fell silent as she began her lecture. “Mythology.” She wrote on the board as she spoke in a clear voice. “The study of folklores.” Professor Carnicke was a graceful woman in her thirties, with shoulder-length hair the color of wet sand. She stood at the front of the room with the poise of a dancer. “Early cultures used myths to make sense of a confusing world, to explain the origin of mankind, and to create a sense of history and belonging. We will be focusing on three primary mythological studies: the Norse, the Greek, and the Eastern. We begin with the Norse.
“The Norse mythology begins with a trio of prophets. The Three Sisters were the primary Norns—seers, if you will—tasked with predicting the fates of gods and mortals. Urd, Verandi and Skuld lived at the Well of Fate and gave water to the Life Tree, Yggdrasill. They supervised a team of lesser Norns who traveled the realms predicting the fates of humans, elves, and non-titled gods. It was the Three Sisters who predicted the fall of Asgard at the epic battle of Ragnarok.
“Ragnarok was Asgard’s final battle. Dark elves, fire giants, and jotuns attacked together and most of the gods were slain, so mankind could prosper. This myth resonates as a common theme in many creation stories.”
Despite the rugged stranger glaring in my direction, the lecture was off to a fine start. On the one hand, Professor Carnicke was one of the good teachers who spoke really passionately about what she taught. The kind I took detailed notes from. On the other hand, I didn’t need to turn around to know that a very large man was boring angry beams into the back of my head from the last row of the lecture hall. The ninety-minute class seemed to go on forever as I concentrated on the feel of the keyboard under my fingers and the clarity of the professor’s voice. I didn’t raise my head from my computer screen until I heard Professor Carnicke close her textbook. She walked towards her briefcase and put the book inside.
“That’s all for today, ladies and gentlemen. Read ahead fifty pages, and be prepared to discuss the tragedy of Ragnarok when next we meet.” The room began to buzz as students made plans for lunch. I glanced at my computer. The screen was filled with well-organized notes, but I was annoyed that I couldn’t recall a word Professor Carnicke had spoken. My mind had been too full of images of an angry, blond Apollo to process much else.
I packed up my bag, tied my scarf around my neck, and stood to leave. He’d gone before I made it to the back of the room. Shaking my head, I walked into the chilly, Welsh air. The stranger was nowhere to be seen. His anger made no sense. But then, I had no idea how guys operated. I was lost as a goose in a snowstorm in every possible way.
I made my way toward the Student Union to meet Emma.
***
“You must be talking about Ull Myhr. Tall, blond, super fit. Unbelievably gorgeous,” Emma drew out each syllable, nearly salivating over the words. I was telling her about my morning, over a cup of tea.
“That’s the one.” Ull Myhr. What a name. I’d never met a boy named Ull in Nehalem. Then again, I’d only met about thirty boys close to my age in Nehalem, three of whom were named Mike. Emma sipped at her tea absentmindedly. “You know, I had a course with him last semester. It turned out to be my favorite subject.”
“Oh? What subject?”
“Don’t recall,” she giggled. “He’s kind of hard not to notice. But he’s a senior, so he’s out of here at the end of this year. Pity. He’s one of Cardiff’s high points, as far as I’m concerned. And I’m not alone.”
“Right.” My attempt at nonchalance fell completely flat.
“Not like it matters though,” Emma shook her head, “He doesn’t exactly mingle with the underclassmen. I’ve only ever seen him really talking to two people—a guy and a girl who are just as hot as he is—but I don’t know their names. I’ve heard they all live together off campus, but that’s all I know about Ull Myhr. He’s half man, half myth around here. But I wouldn’t mind finding out a lot more, if you know what I mean.” Her giggles made me smile.
“Does he seem, uh, angry, to you?” Or terrifying? Beyond irritating?
“No.” Emma was surprised. “If anything he looks almost … amused. It’s like this whole university experience is funny to him.”
Well, maybe I could chalk his general jerkiness up to a bad week. He obviously wasn’t himself.
“Do you want me to make chicken parmesan for dinner tonight?” I changed the subject.
“Ooh, yes. Please. Supper has been so much more enjoyable since you moved in with us. Thanks for taking on so much of the cooking. Victoria’s dinners were okay, but we all know baking is her culinary strong suit. And I once burned noodles. Honest.”
“I don’t mind, really. My grandma and I always cooked together. It makes me feel at home.”
“Well, I don’t want you to feel like we’re taking advantage of you. You’re just better at it than we are.”
“Not at all. I don’t have to clean up, and Victoria makes dessert every night. Hey, we might want to talk about that by the way. I’m going to leave this place considerably larger if she keeps making bread pudding.” I patted my stomach.
“No way!” Emma laughed. “I’m not giving up nightly goodies for the sake of your figure. Americans are too obsessed with appearances, anyway. Oh and speaking of appearances, James Percy from across the courtyard asked me about you. He thinks you’re really cute.”
“Who?”
“James Percy, the tall guy, super polite, with dark hair. Glasses?” Emma’s eyes were big. “You haven’t noticed him, either? Jeez K
ristia, are you even looking at boys?”
Oh, I was looking. Just not at the nice ones who were asking about me.
“Anyway, I told him to just come over and talk to you. He’s right cute; you’ll definitely like him.” She was obviously pleased with her role as matchmaker.
“Um, super. Thanks, Em.” My cheeks were hot. Back home, I was pretty much invisible to guys. If I’d somehow caught this James guy’s attention, did that mean Ull Myhr was going to stop glaring long enough to see me that way too? Not that I wanted him to—a cranky Viking was the last thing I needed to deal with right now.
***
Ull was definitely seeing me, all right. In Mythology a few days later, he sat in the back of the room again, staring at me from the last row. His eyes were less angry today, more resigned. I dodged his gaze as I set up my laptop, resisting the urge to turn around and stick out my tongue. If he was going to give me the evil eye during every class, this was going to be a long semester.
Before the lecture started, an unfamiliar, sandy-haired boy slid into the seat next to me. “You’re Kristia, right?” The boy stuck out a hand and offered a friendly smile from thin lips. “I’m Henry. Henry Webster. I live upstairs in the Student Houses.”
“Oh, right. Kristia Tostenson. Nice to meet you.” We shook hands and I looked over the top of Henry’s neatly-combed hair to see Ull’s eyes narrow infinitesimally. That was interesting.
“Emma and I have Statistics together. She told me she had a new roommate.”
“That’s me.” I typed the date and sat back in my chair. “So you’re a math major like Emma?”
“Hardly.” Henry actually looked down his nose. He was a good-looking guy and something told me he knew it. “I study business. I’m planning to go into finance.”
“Ahh, got it.” I glanced up again. Ull’s focused stare had zeroed in on Henry.
“And what do you study, Kristia?” Henry booted up his own laptop.
“History of Art,” I shifted my gaze back to Henry, trying not to laugh at the “v” forming between Ull’s eyes. “But I’m mostly taking general ed. courses while I’m here. I’m an exchange student from the US.”
“Very well.” Henry clicked at his keyboard. He stuck out his tongue when he typed—it was cute. “Has Emma taken you to Naan Palace yet? It’s one of our favorites after study group.”
“The Indian restaurant?” What was it with these people and their curries? Didn’t England have good old-fashioned Chinese food? Or pizza? “We went my first night here.”
“Fabulous, isn’t it? Let’s all three go sometime. Too bad she’s not in this class; she’s a great study partner.”
I giggled. Henry definitely saw Emma as more than a study partner. A glance at Ull showed he had misinterpreted my laughter. His eyes were thin slits now, his hands balled into fists. I forced my features into a coy smile and put my hand on Henry’s arm, watching Ull’s jaw set. Very interesting indeed. “That sounds fun, Henry. Let’s grab dinner sometime.” Maybe my voice was a teensy bit loud, but Henry didn’t seem to notice. He prattled away, making plans while I snuck another look. Ull glared at me, the muscles of his jaw tensing as he clenched his teeth. I shot him a grin and turned to my computer.
When Professor Carnicke dismissed the class ninety minutes later, my gaze wandered toward Ull’s seat. It was empty; he had escaped before the lecture was over. Well that was good—I didn’t want to waste any more energy avoiding his mean looks. Did I?
***
The following Tuesday, I sat in Mythology class, third row, taking my standard copious notes. Henry was absent and I hadn’t met any of the other students in class yet, so I had most of the row to myself. All around me, pens scribbled and keyboards clicked as Professor Carnicke waxed poetic about the Norse Gods.
It was easy to get wrapped up in the dramatic stories, the romance, the anguish, when the professor was so into her subject. After only a week, this had become my favorite class—it certainly wasn’t because of the bizarre Ull Myhr who sat in the back making me feel an inexplicable combination of emotions. I genuinely liked both the professor and her subject matter. Like I’d written in my last e-mail to Ardis, I was getting college credit for going to story time. It was a pretty good deal.
“That’s it for today folks,” came Professor Carnicke’s dismissal. “Read through the next seventy pages in your text and start working on an outline for your term papers. I will be available for questions during my office hours this afternoon.” I bent my head to rummage through my bag as the room began to empty. When I looked up, I spotted the tousled, blond hair of the student who was occupying far too many of my thoughts. He was looking at me curiously—the anger finally gone. Well color me pink; that was a nice change. I ducked my head and jumped from my seat, rushing to leave the lecture hall. Once in the hallway, I leaned against the wall and exhaled. When I was sure I could walk, I headed to the quad to find an unusually clear sky. I relished the feel of the sun on my face. A girl could almost take off her sweater without getting goose bumps. Almost.
I sat under a tree and took out my Mythology book, planning to read ahead for the next lecture. As I turned the page, a deep voice broke my concentration. “May I join you?”
I looked up to see him. Ull Myhr, who never spoke to anyone, was speaking to me.
“Join me?” I looked around. “Are you serious?”
Ull chuckled, looking pointedly to the ground next to me. “May I?”
“Don’t you want to glare at me for a while first? Make me feel like I stole your Granny’s favorite baking sheet?”
He sighed. “Please?” It was the first nice thing he’d said to me.
“Uh … um … fine. Have a seat,” I gestured feebly, shock keeping me from standing like etiquette would have dictated. His grin made my stomach flip as he sat next to me, leaning against the tree. I was instantly and immeasurably self-conscious.
“I am sorry, I should introduce myself. I am Ull Myhr. Fourth Year, majoring in Classics. I did my first two years at the University of Oslo, Norway. And you are?”
By some miracle I found my voice again. “Um … uh.” I had actually forgotten my own name. “I’m, uh, Kristia. Kristia Tostenson. Sophomore, History of Art, visiting student from the U.S.—Oregon.” I forced a welcoming smile on my face, but it faltered quickly. “Sorry, I’m not trying to be difficult, but this is just weird. Is there something you want?”
Ull looked surprised. “Why is this weird?”
“Um, because you’ve spent the last week glowering at me? And avoiding me? Why do you suddenly want to talk to me?”
“Kristia, I am sorry if I gave you the impression that I have ill feelings towards you.” Ull’s sincerity threw me off balance. “Nothing could be further from the truth. I do not even know you.”
“I know!” I threw my hands up in frustration. “That’s why I’m so confused.”
Ull laughed, a hearty laugh that bounced through the trees. It was a wonderful sound. “Well I am sorry I have not been friendlier. This week has been unusually difficult for me. But it is no excuse to have made you uncomfortable.” He stuck out his hand. “Can we start over?”
“Do you want to start over?”
“I would not have asked if I did not.”
“Oh. Okay then.” I eyed his hand warily before I shook it. The instant our palms touched, an electric pulse charged my skin. It raced up my arm and into my chest, spiking my already overworked heartbeat. Every nerve ending in my body sprang to life, leaving me with the feeling of pins and needles from tip to toe. It took ten slow breaths to calm my heart.
Ull assessed my reaction with guarded eyes. Then he gently pulled his hand back. “Since we are starting fresh, may I ask you something else?”
“What?” I didn’t mean to sound so suspicious.
“Well, my pen gave out mid-lecture. Would you be willing to e-mail me your notes? You type so earnestly, yours must be worth reviewing.”
Okay, now this conversation mad
e sense. He wanted my notes. I should have been offended he was using me, but he was just so good looking, I couldn’t muster up the appropriate level of indignation.
“Oh. I guess.” I handed him a pen and he jotted down his e-mail address. Our hands brushed as he handed me the scrap of paper, sending another jolt to my poor heart. I pulled back quickly. No point in hyperventilating again before I could tell Emma about this small miracle. The legend himself had given me his e-mail address. He wanted to talk to me again! What had changed since we met in London? Though I didn’t want to destroy any good will building between us, I desperately wanted to ask him about London—he may have been having a bad week at Cardiff, but that didn’t explain why he’d been so rude at the British Museum. And I was positive this was the same man—there was no way there were two god-like creatures walking around Britain. If there were, Ardis would have signed up for study abroad years ago.
Study abroad! I kicked myself. I’d totally forgotten the meeting with my advisor. I jumped up so quickly I had to grab onto a tree for support. “Sorry, I have to go. I have an appointment. I’ll send my notes this afternoon.”
“Of course.” Ull stood gracefully, his light jacket straining against defined shoulders. “I would imagine an Oregon girl could use a good cup of coffee. What is your favorite? Soy Latte?”
I shook my head. “Earl Grey. Weird, I know. My dad says he’s not sure I’m really from Oregon.”
Ull smiled. “Well, I owe you a cup of tea then. It is the least I can do for imposing on your notes.”
“And for spending a week glaring at me?”
“I thought we agreed to a fresh start.” Blinding teeth peeked from upturned lips. “No fair bringing up my past indiscretions.”
“TouchÉ.” I caught myself grinning back. This day had taken an unexpected turn.
“I hope a drink will wipe the slate clean. Where will you be at eight o’clock this evening?”
I managed to remember the name of my residence hall. Ull seemed to know it offhand. I scurried off to my meeting, only tripping once on the short walk to the administration building. I could have sworn I heard a low chuckle as I steadied myself, but when I glanced over my shoulder, Ull Myhr was gone.