by S. T. Bende
Right.
“See you in a few,” Mack said as he and Johann stepped onto the porch.
“Bye.” I waggled my fingers. When the door clicked closed behind them, I slid my hand over Tore’s and twined my fingers through his. “Come on, Protector. Let’s ask Greta what’s been happening in Asgard.”
“Or we could leave Bodie to embarrass himself in front of Greta, and you and I could head upstairs for some alone time.” Tore shot me my favorite dimpled grin.
“I wish.” I really did. Alone time was in short supply. All of my protectors—including Tore—were one hundred percent focused on getting me battle ready. They’d gone so far as to pin their insanely intense schedule to the refrigerator. Between sleeping, eating, and training, there was no time left over for what I really wanted to be doing.
“I mean it.” Tore winked. “Mack said we had a few minutes.”
“I think we’re going to need more than a few minutes.” I gave him a pointed look, and his eyes flared like two cobalt firepits. With a low growl, he ran his gaze up and down my body. The look sent another pulse due south. Good God, he was hot. We hadn’t gone all the way yet, and while I understood we had priorities, I couldn’t help but wish we had more time for ourselves. Not only was Tore ridiculously good-looking, but he’d saved my life—twice—and he was literally a demigod. I knew killing Nott was important, but couldn’t a girl multitask? I mean, seriously?
My overworked heart breathed a tiny sigh of relief when the flame in Tore’s eyes died down to the normal sea blue hue. “Fair enough.” He bent down to brush his lips against my ear, sending an icy shiver racing down my spine. Holy hot demigod. “But one day soon, when all of this Nott skit is behind us, I’m taking you away from all these guys. Somewhere warm.” He raked his teeth along my earlobe, and the shiver shot back up with a vengeance. “Clothing optional.”
The thought of Tore without clothing turned my brain to mush. I was totally done for.
“So, tell us, Greta.” Tore tugged at my hand, leading me and my inferno-laced cheeks into the living room. “What’s new in Asgard?”
“It’s been fairly quiet. Eir’s still in the healing unit, more for her own safety than anything else at this point. The Alfödr has two warriors stationed outside her door and one on the roof of the structure. I check in on her twice a day, and she’s remaining stable.” Greta sat on the loveseat beside the fireplace, leaving a disappointed-looking Bodie to join Tore and me on the L-shaped sectional.
“Has the Alfödr said any more about Nott? Any leads on the weapon?” Bodie leaned forward.
“None.” Greta shook her head. Another flurry of snow fell from her braid and landed on her lap.
“It must be coming down pretty hard out there.” I glanced out the window. Sure enough, fat, white clumps fell against the backdrop of thick evergreens. “Jeez, this blizzard’s been going on for days. We were lucky it broke long enough for Heimdall to drop in Greta’s Bifrost, but it picked up again in a hurry. This weather pattern has to let up soon.”
“Does it?” Tore slid his arm around my shoulders and pulled me to his side. “Nott’s been wreaking havoc on Midgard for years, and the mortals weren’t doing much to offset the effects of climate change. It was bound to catch up eventually.”
“I guess.” I sighed. “So, no word on the weapon pieces? Dang it. I guess we’ll just have to wait for—” A fierce pounding on the front door made me lose focus. “Who’s that?”
“Open up!” Johann’s shout was followed by heavy steps. A second later, a key clicked in the lock, and the door flew open. Johann and Mack stumbled inside, bringing with them countless snowflakes, four pizzas, and one dead raven.
“Holy Hel.” Tore jumped to his feet, nearly face-planting me into the coffee table. “Is that—”
“Huginn,” Mack confirmed. “We ran a perimeter check on our way back and found him just outside the barrier.”
“Oh my gods, is he okay?” Greta dropped to her knees in front of the coffee table and gestured for Mack to lay the Alfödr’s messenger-raven down. My light elf friend carried the bird into the living room and set him on Greta’s makeshift veterinary table. Mack was so distraught, he didn’t even notice all the snow he’d tracked over his pristine wood floor.
“Why couldn’t Huginn penetrate the barrier?” Tore barked. “We set the shield around the safe house to allow Huginn, Muninn, and direct Bifrost transports in. It blocks all other non-resident entrants, but the bird should have made it through. We haven’t changed the frequency.”
“No idea.” Johann set the pizzas on an end table before kneeling beside Greta. He pulled a tiny scroll from his pocket and held it up. “But we found this a few yards away from him. There’s a thread around his foot; it looks like he was carrying it.”
Tore snatched the scroll from his hands. His eyes moved back and forth as he scanned its contents.
“What’s it say?” I peered over his shoulder.
“One of the Alfödr’s contacts in Nidavellir spotted some dark entities atop one of their mountains,” Tore summarized.
“Not another mountain,” I groaned. “I barely made it off the last one.”
“We can worry about the tip later.” Bodie leaned over the table. “Greta, can you save Huginn?”
“Ja, I do not want to be the one to tell the Alfödr our protective barrier killed his bird.” Johann shuddered.
“Nothing killed him yet. He’s just in shock.” Greta held her hands over the creature. I reached out with my own energy and sensed a flicker of light from behind Huginn’s ribs. Thank the maker. I didn’t want to tell the head of Asgard we’d offed his pet, either. Odin the Alfödr was a scary-intense ruler who wore an eyepatch. That accessory alone upped his intimidation factor a billion percent.
“What shocked Huginn? Was it our shield?” Mack asked.
“No. I think . . . ah. There it is.” Greta placed her fingers on the bird’s chest and withdrew a small dart. “He was shot.”
“That close to the barrier?” Johann’s eyes widened. “We found him a few yards from our border. Nobody knows where we are . . . do they?”
“Not sure, but we’d better extend the protections. And possibly set a new shield.” Mack’s eyes rolled skyward in the inter-realm expression of mental math. He was probably recalculating how to extend whatever magical cloak protected our little compound.
“Greta,” Bodie said through gritted teeth, “Can you save Huginn?”
“Yes. It’s not a dark magic malady; it seems like a Midgardian tranquilizer.” Greta sighed. “It’s possible this just came from some kids playing too far out in the woods. But I’d increase the protections, just in case.”
“On it.” Mack nodded.
“Now, everybody quiet. I need to focus. Allie, you want to help me out?” Greta reached into her healing bag and withdrew a crystal wand.
“Uh, sure. What do you want me to do?”
“Call up the Liv. I’ll infuse Huginn with crystal energy where I have extracted the dart. If you give him a dose of your healing power, we’ll send him back to the Alfödr in tip-top shape.” Greta placed one hand atop the bird’s chest.
“Should I get my armor?” I asked.
“I think you’re ready to channel the Liv without it. Your necklace should be able to harness any overflow at this point.” Greta used her wand to tap the white gem that hung from my neck. It emitted a pulse of light at the contact.
Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. The Liv won’t accidentally kill you . . . I hope.
“Okay.” I pushed down my panic and positioned myself closer to Greta. With a breath, I called up the life-giving energy that lived beneath my ribcage. It pooled in my chest, drawing into my necklace and holding a steady pulse that resonated from my heart to the gem and back again. “Liv’s ready,” I confirmed.
“Great.” Greta laid her wand beside Huginn and placed her fingertips atop his chest. He was still—too still. Greta lightly massaged the place where she had ext
racted the dart moments ago and picked up her wand. “Allie, send a shot of the Liv into the wound, and I’ll seal it up.”
“All right.” I placed my left hand over Huginn and drew the Liv into my shoulder. It traveled down my arm, through my palm, and sent a glowing blue beam at the bird. His chest rose in one jerky movement. I pulled my hand back while Greta waved her wand in a figure-eight pattern over the raven. His body shuddered with one deep breath. A second followed, then a third. And we all exhaled in relief.
“Oh, thank gods,” Mack said.
I let the Liv simmer out of my system. It hadn’t killed me without my armor. For this, I was grateful.
Tore reached over to squeeze my hand. “We need to get him back to the Alfödr. Like Greta said, it was probably just some kid who wandered too far into the woods. But in case it wasn’t, Odin will want to have him looked after.”
“I’ll take him back,” I volunteered. It had been three weeks since I’d seen my mom. It would be nice to spend time with her.
“No can do.” Tore’s long, blond hair moved against his shoulders. “Huginn brought us a tip, and we need to follow it up by going to Nidavellir. But the dwarves can be nasty buggers. If we’re going to their realm, Greta’s going to need to teach you how to harness your energy for defense.”
“The Liv?” I paused. “I thought it was supposed to create life—not destroy it.”
“It can do both. Greta will explain.” Tore looked around the table, where Mack, Johann, and Bodie all hovered over the now-breathing bird. “Pizza’s going to get cold, so everybody eat up. Then Mack, you need to stay here and enhance the compound’s protections with me while Greta works with Allie. Bodie, you and Johann take Huginn home to Asgard. Spend the night with Bodie’s parents if you want to, or pop over to Vanaheim and say hei to Johann’s family. Just be back here by sunrise tomorrow.”
“What happens at sunrise?” I asked, hoping desperately the answer was Mack makes us a mouthwatering brunch. Or even better, Allie and I go on a super special date.
Tore eyed me levelly, no hint of brunch or dates in his icy blue gaze. “Tomorrow at sunrise, we pay the dwarves a little visit. We’re going to bring another piece of Gud Morder home.”
CHAPTER TWO
AFTER THE BOYS TOOK off with Huginn, Greta and I set to work on ‘energy warfare training.’ Because that was a thing now. Why I couldn’t just wave some crystal wands around like Greta, I did not know.
My friend had devoted the past few weeks to teaching me to single-handedly create shields. Mack’s team of doppelganger brothers—who I affectionately referred to as the Mack Pack—had used their swords to create a shield that had protected me from a night elf attack in Alfheim. And Greta had insisted on making sure I knew how to form one on my own. Now, it was time to learn offensive tactics—Greta was going to teach me to make a weapon from the Liv. The energetic power to give life had transferred itself to me while my mother was trapped in the Night Sleep. And since I was its keeper, I was tasked with yielding it, not only for protection, but apparently, for attack. No pressure.
The corners of my mouth tugged downward as Greta set up a perimeter of crystals around the living room. “If the Liv is supposed to heal people, why are we using it as a weapon?”
Greta completed her circle by placing the final crystal in front of the fireplace, then spun around to face me. Her green eyes blazed when she spoke. “Healers are warriors against the darkness. If we don’t fight with all the light we have, the realms will plunge into chaos. You’ve seen that firsthand.”
Her words sent flashes of memories across my mind—the black swirl rising over my mother, the treatises on deforestation and the ensuing species depletion I’d read in Environmental Studies, the reports of the torrential downpours in Los Angeles and the subsequent mudslides that destroyed homes and killed hikers. Despite the humans’ lack of awareness, the fact of the matter was that we were all in the midst of war. A war not only for my mother’s life, but for the future of Midgard, and for the power of light in all the realms. Greta was right—if we didn’t utilize every tool in our arsenal, we’d fail to protect the realms from Nott’s destruction.
Which meant we had to be prepared to use the power of life to kill.
I drew my shoulders back with resolve. “You’re sure I can do this?”
Greta raised one perfectly-groomed brow. “Your mother once took the heads off three dark elves with one snap of her light whip. I have no doubt that you can do the same.”
My mouth popped open. “Light whip?”
“Fun, right?” Greta grinned. “We should probably be practicing this in the complex, but it’s too cold to go outside. So, try not to burn the house down, okay?”
My newfound confidence took a nosedive. Was she serious? Could I actually destroy the cabin? Note to self: If I ever become an energy teacher, don’t tell students not to burn the house down before a lesson.
Greta walked over to her healing bag and removed two crystal wands. She waved them back and forth across her body before returning her attention to me. “The crystals along the perimeter of the room will help intensify the charge of your whip, make it easier to summon while you’re still learning. I’m going to help you the first time, but then I want you to do it yourself. Deal?”
My stomach balled in a knot of nerves, but I nodded. So much for my impression of the Liv as a friendly, life-affirming entity. Now that I knew it could hurt someone, calling it up seemed a whole lot riskier.
Greta correctly interpreted my furrowed brow. She reassured me with a gentle hand pat. “Don’t worry, Allie. I’m not a dark entity. The Liv won’t hurt me.”
Whew. Potential crisis averted. I released the breath I’d been holding. “The Liv can only hurt dark beings? You should have started with that.”
Greta laughed. “Relax. The worst it can do is knock me out for a few minutes.”
“What? I don’t want to knock you out!” Frustration coursed through me, and I tossed my hands in the air. “Greta, I think I’m in over my head. Maybe we should just go back to forming the shield, and I’ll try to bring whoever I need to protect inside it with me.”
“That’s not always going to be enough.” Greta eyed me levelly. “Tore, Mack, Johann, and Bodie are your protectors, but what if someone gets through all of them?”
“Then I fight with my sword,” I suggested.
“Swords will work on a night elf,” Greta agreed. “But on the darker beings, on Nott . . . you need to learn to turn the Liv into a weapon. Come on.” She positioned herself in front of me and raised her crystal wands as if they were swords. “Call forth the Liv.”
“Right.” I took a deep breath, shaking off my anxiety. Then I felt for the pulse, the living energy that crackled just below the surface of my torso. When the Liv flickered to life, I latched onto it. I drew it up through my ribs, ran it across my shoulders, and let it drain down my arm. The blue light flared out of my palm, and Greta narrowed her eyes.
“Veldig bra. Very good,” she translated. Veldig bra? I seriously needed to take some Norwegian lessons. And some Swedish lessons. The guys had told me they spoke a mashup of the two languages—a hybrid they referred to as ‘Scandiwegian.’ Clearly, I needed to study that if I wanted to keep up.
Greta moved back and forth in front of the blue ball that pulsed in my palm, working her crystal wands in and out. The elongated stones shaped the Liv into a thin stream of light. It stretched a full six feet in length, growing thinner and tapering into a wisp at its end.
Holy Lord. I stood staring at the long, blue weapon with a crooked grin. “You made a whip. That is seriously epic.”
“Focus, Allie,” Greta admonished. “It’s losing its shape.”
Sure enough, the whip had fallen flat. It now stretched across the length of the living room like a soggy noodle. Oops. The Liv reminded me of its power by poking me repeatedly from inside my chest. Each poke served as a reminder that the Liv was supposed to be the energetic manifestation of life
, not a magic noodle of limpness.
Sorry, Liv.
I fortified the surge through my palms, refocusing on the weapon until it took shape again. When the blue glow stiffened to re-form a thick rope, Greta shifted. She took several steps away from me, so her shoulder was pressed against the fireplace. “Better. Okay, now try to crack it.”
My eyes widened. “I’ve never used a whip before. I have no idea how to do that.”
“Fair enough. You’re going to want to do this.” Greta raised her arm over her head and quickly pulled it to her waist. “Physical whips are cumbersome. Their weight and length make it difficult for an average-sized mortal to generate the velocity needed to elicit a crack. But you’re not a mortal, and this isn’t a physical whip. It's energetic. Draw on your demigod strength, and you’ll easily control it.”
Because that made sense. Not.
“Show me?” I asked.
Greta nodded. “You’re right-handed, correct?”
“Yup.”
“Okay. Then follow me.” Greta slowly raised her right arm, held for a beat, then lowered it. I did the same; the whip fluttered with the gentle movement.
“Nothing happened,” I muttered.
“Well of course not.” Greta tossed her strawberry braid over her shoulder. “That was quarter speed. Do it again with me.” She repeated the movement, this time bringing her arm up, holding, and snapping it down at a slightly faster pace. When I imitated her, the whip fluttered with more intensity. It sent a jolt back through my palm as if it was irritated with me.
“I think the Liv wants to go faster,” I guessed.
“Then let’s give it what it wants.” The corners of Greta’s lips pulled back in a grin.
With a nod, I tightened my hand around the light whip. Fine, Liv. But you’re answering to Mack if you burn the house down.
Greta raised her arm, paused, and snapped it down so fast that the motion was a blur. I took a grounding breath and did the same, holding my hand above my head until the coils of energy threatened to unfurl. I snapped my arm down, yelping at the loud burst of noise that erupted though the living room. The blue pulse of light detonated just below the high beams of the ceiling. Crap. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to remember where the guys kept the fire extinguishers.