“We were playing a joke on Josh and Grim.” Taran’s tone changed as he talked to his dad. It lost the confidence that laced most of his words before, now sounding flat, forced. His stance changed, too. He’d sagged in worry earlier, but now he just looked tense, distant—and faintly guilty. “Sorry about that.”
“Okay.” His dad barely looked at him.
It wasn’t my imagination that the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. “Let’s get them out of the walkway now, Taran.” He looked at me. “Coral, right?”
I nodded.
“I’m Grady. You have parents who can come pick you up?”
I blinked at the sudden subject change. “No, sir. I have my car.”
“You live far?”
I shook my head. “No, but it took me a long time to get here this morning.”
He picked up his coat. “It’s late, and Taran obviously didn’t share that he’s grounded, so I’ll follow you home.”
There was no arguing with this man. That was clear. I wanted to stay and help protect Taran, but I could only hope his father being home would do the trick. That and the saltpeter and dill, because he made us pick up the gargoyles.
Taran and I exchanged numbers before I left, and I caught his dad watching him out of the corner of my eye. There was something in his expression that made my heart ache—a weird mix of exasperation and yearning when he looked at his son. He made me wonder what it would be like to have a father. It wasn’t the first time. Shame still ate a hole in my chest when I thought of all Mom’s boyfriends over the years and how many of them I tried to use as a replacement. She’d once told me I ran them off before she could.
Mr. Breen, or Grady, didn’t give Taran and me any time to talk alone. Frustration kept me quiet and I saw my feelings mirrored in Taran’s expression.
We needed to figure out what was happening with that hammer.
Grady Breen followed me all the way home, even though it took nearly an hour to get there in the snow and traffic. He didn’t leave until I waved safely from my open doorway.
I hurried into the house, my bag clanking against my hip, shivering because the power was still out, and I could see my breath in the air. Thankful that Raven always insisted we keep the garage stocked with propane for emergencies, I pulled out one of our old camping heaters and set it up in my bedroom. I could keep the door cracked for ventilation.
Forgoing what was sure to be an icy shower, I changed into two pairs of pajamas and Raven’s robe. While the water heated for tea—this one chamomile and mint—I hauled a bunch of Mom’s spell books onto my bed so I could look for something that might explain how someone else called Taran’s hammer. I was starting to get really scared that it could be my mother, though I could not come up with one reason why.
My hands started to ache with cold, and I remembered that my mom had a stash of fingerless gloves in the top of her closet. Her room smelled kind of funny, so I looked under the bed, opened all the drawers, but she had so much crap for spells stashed everywhere, all the scents started to meld.
I sneezed.
Giving up on the smell, I reached into the top of her closet, grabbed the gloves and the yarn caught on something—something that crashed onto the floor and spilled everywhere. I knelt and grinned at the tiny, black rocks.
“Black salt,” I murmured. “Perfect.”
Despite the weird odor in the room, I could easily pick up the nose tingling mix of iron and black pepper. Mom had used scrapings from a skillet—which would normally be a bad thing—but not this time. For the first time in days, a light filled my heart. Black salt worked as powerful protection and because my mother had made it, it would work twice as hard against her if she tried to do harm. I scooped all the granules into a vial and stashed it in my bag.
Before I settled with my tea and books, I huddled in front of the heater, pricked my right finger and let three drops of blood fall onto my left middle fingernail. It was an old trick my mother had taught me years ago—one I should have remembered to try the night before. The drops would form into a shape...or a clue. As I watched, the blood moved, merging into a rune. One that resembled a P.
Thurisaz.
I frowned because that could mean anything. In some cultures, it represented frost giants. In some, or really all, it meant something dangerous or bad. Trials and tribulations, or natural force devastation, which was so obviously going on that wasn’t any help. Sometimes the rune was used in stories of Loki. Most of the time, it was about Thor and his hammer. Again, too obvious.
But...it also could be about a thorn—which was sharp and piercing.
I stared at the bloody rune, my gut in a knot.
Thorns were often used in powerful, dark spells.
* * *
Taran called and asked me to meet him for a late lunch at a fast-food seafood restaurant on Miracle Strip Parkway the next morning. Guess he’d decided to ignore the grounding. I picked out a pair of skinny jeans with a huge red-and-blue sweater—again the colors of protection—then put matching feathers on clips into my hair. The ensemble would all clash with the orange snow boots, but I didn’t really care. Color cheered me.
I was five minutes into the drive when I realized there wouldn’t be a lot more driving—not in my little Neon. The snow had let up the night before but now it fell in sheets. I hoped it didn’t stay like this because I couldn’t imagine how everyone would keep doing the things they needed to do. Get to jobs, schools. I had to drive slowly, and the entire time my hands shook because I was terrified of other vehicles running into me. Cars crammed the parking lots of hotels and grocery stores. I drove past stores with closed signs on the doors. Normally people would be on the sidewalks and streets...on the beaches.
When I finally got to the restaurant, I felt as if I’d been driving for days. I had to park a ways from the entrance because the parking lot was packed.
I opened my car door and swung my legs around to get out, and the wind nearly knocked me back into the car. Snow stabbed at the exposed skin of my face and hands as I pushed my way out of the car and slammed the door. I promptly slipped and grabbed the side mirror, dangling there. The healing wound on my palm stung as I held on to keep from hitting the ground.
A group of kids hurried past me, then stopped. I thought they were going to offer to help me, but the sudden raucous squawks of ravens drowned out even the sound of the wind. Hundreds landed in the parking lot, noisy, stabbing at each other with sharp beaks. The wind grabbed black feathers and drops of red blood, spreading them on the mounds of white in morbid contrasting colors.
A hand grabbed my elbow, lifted me, and I looked up to find Taran had come out. But like everyone else, he watched the birds. It was as if they’d been possessed as they fought each other. I wondered why they hadn’t frozen and died like the flock I’d seen before.
And again I wondered what the ravens were doing in Florida.
The rate their number was growing sent ripples of alarm up my back.
Taran pulled me close to him as some of the birds swarmed around us. One dived toward his face and he batted it away, then wrapped his arm protectively around my head as he walked me across the parking lot.
The scent of fried fish, shrimp and French fries made my mouth water when Taran opened the door. We turned and watched as other people ran toward the restaurant. Then the birds suddenly swarmed into the air in a tornado like formation and flew off.
“That was wild,” Taran muttered. He scowled as someone jostled into us, making me hit the window. Taran pulled me closer. “Hey, dude, watch it.”
The man who’d run into me grimaced. “Sorry. Never saw crows like that before. They freaked me out a bit.” He moved away.
“That’s because they weren’t crows,” I murmured to Taran under my breath.
He looked down at me, lift
ed an eyebrow.
The noise of the packed restaurant swirled around us. I stood on my toes to get closer to his ear. “Those were ravens, and it isn’t the first time I’ve seen them. They shouldn’t be here.”
“Maybe they’re just flying south, thinking it’s a regular winter—that sort of thing.”
“Maybe,” I said, though in my heart, I knew it was something a little scarier than that. All I could think about were the stories of Ragnarok. The ravens and the wolves.
Taran’s face went slack with surprise when he turned to face the restaurant. “I swear there weren’t this many people in here just a second ago. I saw you pull in and was worried when you dropped—thought you’d hit the ground.”
People filled every booth and table and even more milled about, some in line for food and others standing around talking. Quite a few were around our age, and on nearly every face, there was an expression of fear or worry. The noise level drowned out thought.
A handful of kids gathered near one of the cash registers, and I couldn’t help but stare at a couple of them because they were huge. One was unnaturally big, like close to seven feet tall. Their matching jackets told me they were on the same sports team at their high school.
I tugged on Taran’s coat. “Do you go to school with them?”
He looked where I indicated with a nod of my head, then grimaced. “Yeah, I do. Unfortunately. The tall one, Billy, is an asshole.”
Billy picked that moment to glance over, and the scowl that scrunched already-rough, craggy features put my back up. He looked at Taran as if he’d just scraped him off the bottom of his shoe. He walked closer and my neck bent back. I’d never seen anyone that tall in person. His shoulders were twice the width of the kid next to him. His face was so strange—sort of wide and slightly flattened as if he’d been dropped on it when it was still forming.
“Yo Breen, how come you aren’t in jail? Your daddy pull some strings?”
The noise in the restaurant trickled into silence.
I understood Taran’s grimace then. He leaned down to put his lips by my ear. “He’s Stark’s best friend. That first kid who was hit with my hammer, remember?
Without thinking about it, I pulled off one glove and slid my hand into Taran’s, threading our fingers together. He straightened and smiled, surprise in his eyes as he squeezed my fingers gently.
Billy came even closer and I noticed another group our age watching from a table on the other side of the restaurant. One of the boys at the table was big, too. What did they put in the water here?
“Breen,” Billy sneered when he stopped a couple of feet away. Then he surprised me by stepping right into Taran’s personal space. Which meant he stepped into mine, as well. Bristling at his bad manners, I put my hand on his chest to stop him. He looked down at me in surprise. Then, the slimiest smile crossed his mouth, and he let his body go loose, hunched his shoulders and leaned toward me.
“Are you trying to make yourself look smaller so I’m not scared of you or something?” I asked. “Because it’s not going to work.”
“Aw, you’re really cute. So small, I could put you in my pocket.”
“I suggest you don’t try that,” Taran said, voice low.
Billy continued to stare at me. “Don’t be scared of me.”
“I’m not. I meant you can’t make yourself look smaller.”
“Breen’s the one you should be worried about. Guess you don’t know he’s going around beating people up. Hit a girl once, too.”
I didn’t believe that for a second. Taran’s hand started to sweat as it tightened around mine. I wanted to reach out and stroke his side for some reason. The thought made me release the most gods-awful, girlie giggle ever. I promptly blushed—more out of humiliation.
Billy took it as a flirty noise, and from the short glance of shock I got from Taran, he did, as well. I gave him the raised brow “as if” look and he bit his lip as if he was trying not to smile, then looked back at the giant. But the tension I’d felt building in him lessened.
“I can’t believe you have the nerve to just walk around town like you’ve done nothing wrong, Breen.”
“I haven’t hurt anyone. Cops know it. They let me go.”
“And your daddy had nothing to do with that?”
“Nope.”
The giant kid suddenly grabbed the lapels of Taran’s coat and lifted him to his toes. I gasped, let go of Taran’s hand and kicked the big kid in the shin.
“Hey now, watch those crazy orange boots.”
“Billy, you better put me down.” The words caused me to shiver as they came low and gravelly from Taran’s throat. A warning dripped from each syllable.
“I think you should listen to him.” Grim added as he and Josh walked up to stand behind Billy.
“Go back to sticking things in your mouth, gay boy.”
I gasped and so did a few people around us.
Every muscle in Taran’s body went taut and that fierce energy I’d picked up from him before suddenly spilled so heavily into the room, others must have felt it. People started squirming in their seats.
“Bad move, Billy,” Josh muttered. “Bad, bad move.”
Taran’s fist shot out, hitting Billy so hard in the nose, the kid’s thick neck snapped back, and there was an audible crunch that had several around us wincing. Blood splattered Taran, but that didn’t stop him from jabbing Billy twice more until those huge fists released his coat. Billy staggered back, his hand over his face. “I think you broke my nose. There are witnesses here. You’re going down.” He looked around the room.
“What witnesses?” the other big kid I’d noticed earlier said as he came to his feet.
Blood splattered the floor when Billy whipped his head toward that table. “Sit your happy tourist butt back down. You have no idea what’s been going down around here—”
But the new guy interrupted. “You’re right. I don’t live around here, and I have no idea what you have against this guy. All I saw was him walk in, holding hands with his girlfriend, and you attacking him.” He looked at me. “Name’s Magnus.”
Billy turned that snarl on the guy, but he shouldn’t have taken his eyes off Taran. When Taran stepped forward, the fury pouring off his taut body made me wince. He wasn’t as big, but it was obvious he was more dangerous. I put my hand on his back, noticing that he went instantly stiff before he looked over his shoulder at me, eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Don’t know why you’re standing up for Taranis Breen.” Billy wiped the back of his hand under his nose, leaving a huge smear of red across his cheek. “Everyone around here knows he’s bad news. Killed his own mom when he was little.”
“Wow, you’re really stupid,” Josh said through gritted teeth.
Taran yelled and lunged at Billy. Surprisingly, Magnus held him back. By the grimace on his face as he gripped Taran’s arms, it was obvious he struggled more than he expected.
Guess Billy decided that having Taran held back made him safe. He came at him like a lumbering bull, ducking to drive his shoulder into Taran’s chest. Magnus moved him out of the way.
“Hey!” one of the restaurant employees yelled as he came running from the kitchen. “Stop it or take it outside.”
Billy wasn’t listening. It was as if he’d let his anger take over his humanity or his ability to listen...or fight with any sort of brains or finesse. When he rushed Taran this time, Magnus let go so Taran could fight back. Taran smashed his fist into the side of Billy’s face, but Billy’s momentum still took Taran to the floor. I winced when Taran’s head smacked the hard, brown tiles. He tried to twist out from under Billy but was stuck.
I tried to push Billy off, but it took me and Magnus to roll his leg off Taran’s neck.
Magnus helped Taran to his feet then smiled down at me, showing v
ery white teeth in his dark face. Noise in the restaurant began to pick up.
A tall, curvy girl came up to slide her arm around his waist. She studied me closely as she pushed her straight, blond hair off her shoulder. She had a gold beanie on her head that sparkled under the restaurant lights.
Magnus tugged her close and looked at her as if she’d hung the moon. “This is Mist.”
Her name was like a punch to the gut. I knew that name from my mythological studies. “Mist?”
“It’s an old family name.” She turned a smile on Taran, Josh and Grim, who now stood on either side of him. Josh turned a pretty spectacular shade of red and actually shuffled his feet a bit.
Did I say curvy? We’re talking full-on womanly hips, boobs—everything. She was a walking, talking Scandinavian warrior. Named Mist.
“Valkyries shadow.” I murmured the rune tempus from the first night with Taran under my breath, looking for her shadow.
I didn’t think I said it loud enough for her to hear me, but she turned to face me fully. We stared at each other. This was no kid carrying a Valkyrie soul, but the actual Valkyrie named Mist. I knew it with every fiber of my being. I’d read about her.
Goose bumps sprang on my arms.
My norn started shifting about and I didn’t even think about it, I just raised my hand out of habit, hoping to settle her down. Again, my gaze went to the tall, very dark Magnus. He was probably another warrior then. A warrior travelling with a Valkyrie.
To where?
“It’s a mess out there, isn’t it?” Mist pointed, and I turned to see that the wind had picked up even more. Trees had nearly bent in two and feathers from the flock of ravens still swirled in the air.
Someone in the restaurant gasped and the place went silent again as everyone turned toward a small, portable television somebody had set up on one of the corner booth tables. Probably an employee who wanted to keep an eye on the weather. On the small screen, a frantic newscaster was using words like multiple superstorms and evacuations going on in the entire lower half of Florida, Cuba and along the East Coast.
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