I nodded, staring up at him with wide eyes because I couldn’t work through the utter shock of having someone moving and actually aware while in this with me.
“What is this?” He stepped to the side, then blinked when he hit snowflakes hanging in midair.
“My sisters and I call it the rune tempus. I don’t really know what it is, but nobody has ever come into this with me. Ever.”
“Into what? A rune what?” He turned around, his mouth falling open as he took in all the suspended snowflakes in the air all around us.
I didn’t blame him for being disoriented. I was used to this, had been going through them since my ninth birthday when Mom had still let my sisters and me go to school. Though...this had been the reason we’d been pulled out. This and the teacher who’d tried to pray the magic demons out of my sister Raven.
I took off my glove, reached out and touched one of the snowflakes. It melted with the heat of my hand and I rubbed my wet fingers together. The rest looked kind of beautiful dangling in midair—like we’d been frozen into a painting. “Don’t worry. All of these people will be fine when time starts back up again.”
“When time starts back up again,” he repeated half under his breath. He flipped his long bangs out of his eyes. He hadn’t had bangs in the picture in the article I’d found about him—the one that had sent me here to see if my mother had gone after him. In that image, his hair had been short and a lot lighter than the sort of dirty blond it was now. “How long does this last?” he asked, turning to stare up at the porch.
“It’s different every time, so I have no way of knowing.” I looked to see the two other boys who stood by his front door—two identical boys with sharp features and red goatees.
A wave of something brushed over me, something dark and ugly. I spun, expecting to see my mother standing there. Lately, just being in the same room with her had felt like this—murky, prickly. As if she’d chucked her somewhat manic personality completely and adopted a darker one that belonged to the serial killer Ted Bundy.
All I saw was Taran staring down at me like maybe I’d adopted the serial killer’s personality.
“Hey.” I touched the sleeve of his black jacket. “I’m sorry but I probably don’t have a lot of time to explain what’s going on here, but any second I’m going to start writing stuff. This is going to sound crazy, but I came here looking for you because I think someone is going to try to hurt you.”
“You think?” That barely banked fury bled back into his dark eyes. “Someone is out there trying to hurt me. I’m being framed for beating up some kid when I wasn’t anywhere near him. Apparently, two kids now.”
Before I could react, my hands started to tingle and I opened my notebook, got the pen ready. “It’s coming.” I groaned when one hand gripped the pen tight. “This isn’t going to last that long, and I need time to explain why I’m here. With you in jail, I won’t be able protect you.”
“Protect me? You’re no bigger than my ten-year-old cousin.” He laughed. “Promise you’ll stick around for when I get out. They can’t keep me long—not without more proof.” He looked around again. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
His smile, when he’d laughed, had made me feel a little spacey again. It was such a beautiful smile—it softened features that seemed more comfortable scrunched up in anger. There were grooves on either side of his mouth when it was stretched wide. Dimples were sexy. I smiled back and this time, he caught his breath.
He took a step closer to me. “You’re older than I thought. About my age, right? Seventeen?”
“Eighteen.”
“Oh yeah,” he breathed, cocking an eyebrow. “An older woman. My night is looking up.”
I blushed, but my norn got impatient then. My hand went stiff and in the next moment, she forced the pen to the paper. It seemed to take forever because she had me going over each line several times—as if she wanted to emphasize the importance of this message. Either that or she was yelling. My hand grew tired but I couldn’t pull it away, couldn’t make this stop. I hated that Taran was watching me like this, but I could do nothing.
When the runes were finally done, I stared at them in confusion.
Taran suddenly growled, twisting his arms and shoulders as if he was trying to pry the handcuffs loose. “Hold that up so I can see it better. I know those shapes. You’re writing in runes. Why?”
I ignored his question, too confused over the words my always-cryptic norn had given me. “Valkyries shadow,” I read. Valkyries were female warriors, judges. The ones who took the bravest dead warriors from battles and carried them back to Valhalla. They supposedly swooped down on flying horses. I looked up into the sky, around suspended snowflakes, half expecting to see creepy, shadowy horses with shrieking women on their backs. “I don’t understand.”
Taran went still. “You write in runes about Valkyries. You can stop time...and you show up at my house as I’m getting carted off to the station.” The last word came hard through gritted teeth as he narrowed his eyes. “Are you a part of this?”
“This what?”
“Are you in with whoever is trying to frame me for the beatings? How are you getting my hammer? And from the evidence room? Did you use this rune temp-thing?” His voice got louder with each word. “You can’t be big enough to be hurting them, though. Stark is huge...” He trailed off, muttering as he glared. “Why hit Jimmy? He’s a nice guy.”
“I didn’t. I don’t know who Jimmy is. Or Stark. I came here because I think you’re in danger and—” I broke off because my heart felt like it was about to leap from my chest. I took a deep breath to calm myself, looked around, because I could have sworn it felt as though we weren’t the only ones aware here. And the feeling was familiar—old familiar—though I couldn’t remember from when exactly.
But nothing moved. Not the snow, not the wind through leaves clinging desperately to trees. It was just the two of us. When I focused on him again, none of the anger had left his face, but at least he’d stopped yelling. “Listen, you recognized the runes, so maybe you have some knowledge of what’s happening to the world right now with this snow and—”
This time he interrupted. “Snow? I don’t care about some freak snowstorm. Jimmy’s a friend and someone hurt him. I’m in handcuffs here.” He twisted to the side so I could see his hands. “Handcuffs.”
“But the snow is important because of Ragnarok.”
His features went momentarily slack, his dimples disappearing as his mouth fell open. “Seriously?” He actually stepped back from me. “I can’t believe you just said that.” He turned and looked up at the still boys on the porch.
But before I could explain more, the huge tree behind him began to melt. I usually had more time. “Gods. Not yet!”
Taran’s eyes rolled back in his head and he swayed and let out the most pitiful moan. “Not that spinning thing again. Come on, rainbow girl, give me a break.” He groaned. “I’m gonna regret eating all that pizza.”
I didn’t think, just stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him tight. “Close your eyes. It helps.”
He groaned. “Nothing would help this.”
“Just hold on to me.”
“I can’t.”
That’s right, he was handcuffed. “Close your eyes. You don’t want to be looking out there as it gets faster.”
He shuddered against me, and I held him so tight he probably couldn’t breathe. But then, he bent to bury his face in my neck. I didn’t blame him for the fear. The rune tempus sucked. It just plain did. I briefly had the crazy wish that my scarf wasn’t there so I could feel his skin on my throat, but then I lost my train of thought completely as the world spun faster and faster.
He grunted and I squeezed him harder, probably cutting off his circulation, but wanting him to feel grounded and not ready to fly off into that
scary, black abyss.
As everything jerked to a stop, I realized I’d royally screwed up. We should have moved back to where we’d been before. To the others—the cops and the kids on the porch—we had been in two different places then in the space of a blink, Taran and I were embracing in the middle of the yard.
“Well, crap,” I muttered as the cop behind me yelled.
Copyright © 2014 by Rinda Elliott
ISBN-13: 9781459254794
Foresworn
Copyright © 2014 by Rinda Elliott
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