Twice Turned

by Heather McCorkle

  No bell rang to announce my arrival, and an old metal band wailed through the speakers throughout the part-filled shop. Regardless, the man behind the counter looked up at me. He may be getting on in age, but he still possessed the outstanding hearing and sense of smell of our kind. Crow’s feet pulled at the corners of his eyes as he smiled at me.

  “Ayra, perfect timing. Those new tires arrived yesterday, and I just got them put on for you. Come on back.” He waved a hand as he opened the back door.

  I vaulted over the counter and caught up before he could disappear into the shop. The scents of oil, gasoline, and half a dozen other vehicle-related liquids mingled into a pungent concoction that stung my nose. A black souped-up ’78 Corvette perched on a lift dripped oil into a pan. Along the opposite side of the room sat three motorcycles; a Sportster, a Kawasaki, and my BMW with its shiny new tires. Okay, they didn’t exactly shine, but they looked pretty sharp considering the brand-new tread.

  The rest of the bike really did shine, though. The pearl-white paint job reflected my image as if it had been freshly washed and waxed. Anything chrome left on the bike that I hadn’t gotten around to powder coating yet caught the overhead lights and sent them bouncing in every direction. If it weren’t for the hard bags on the side and back of my bike, it would have looked every bit the speed machine it was meant to be. While speed was vital to me, function would be just as vital where I was headed. Who knew how far I’d have to go or how long I’d be gone. Some gear would be necessary and the bags would give me all the room I needed. My closed face helmet hung on the left handlebar.

  “Looks good, Olaf. Thanks for getting them done so quickly,” I said as I dug my tiny wallet out of my front pocket. “How much do I owe you?”

  Olaf waved his hands in the air. “Don’t you worry about that.”

  I hoped he didn’t mean what I thought he meant. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone so I want to square things up before I go.”

  He patted my shoulder as he walked past. “We’re square.”

  Grinding my teeth against any further protest, I started counting bills out. It ended up being a good-size bundle of twenties and tens. I felt bad having to give him so many smaller bills, but my seasonal job at the forest service never put anything larger in my pocket. When I held the money out, Olaf shook his head.

  “You’re off to hunt the condemned. Charging you wouldn’t be right,” he said with far more reverence than I was comfortable with.

  “The tires cost you money, and it took up your time putting them on, not to mention the wash and wax job. Not paying you wouldn’t be right,” I insisted.

  He retrieved my keys from a pegboard on the wall above one of his workbenches. The star-struck look he gave me as he handed them over made me want to vomit. But he didn’t seem to notice. “You are the uppskera. Your mission is sacred, and the fact that I got to work on your motorcycle is payment enough.”

  I wanted to scream at him, slap him, anything to make him listen. But I knew it wouldn’t work. Everyone had become like this toward me since my awakening. To them Ayra was gone. Now I was just this thing.

  I stuffed the money back in my pocket and took the keys from him. Grinning like an idiot with no clue about my inner turmoil—despite the fact that it bubbled through my power—he pressed the garage door button. Sunlight spilled into the dim shop, forcing me to squint. Power crackling with aggression rolled in on the afternoon breeze. My own power tried to flare up in response, but I held it down. Never let them see you sweat. That mantra had saved me from a lot of beatings at my brother’s hand. Once a werewolf knew they got you riled up, they pounced. And this was definitely a werewolf. Three of them, in fact. They stood on the opposite side of Olaf’s huge parking lot, just near the thick fir trees. That they were in human form didn’t much reduce the hostility that hung in the air around them.

  Olaf glanced from me to them and began to chew on his bottom lip. “Sorry about them. They’ve been coming by asking about you every day since you dropped your bike off. Don’t pay them any mind. They’re just foolish kids.”

  “What’s their deal?” I asked.

  Olaf waved a dismissive hand. “They think they can challenge the uppskera and gain your power if they defeat you.”

  I was relatively certain it didn’t work that way. If it did, my brother would have challenged me the moment my power awoke. Wouldn’t he have? The what if ate at me. Could there be a chance for me to pass this power onto someone else? The thrill of hope that shot into my heart was almost too much to bear. It would have to be a good, legitimate fight, of that I was sure. I wouldn’t be able to hold back. Odin would accept no less. But that was fine. I really didn’t know how this new power worked yet, so winning wasn’t guaranteed.

  While Olaf made a rude gesture toward the three men, I tucked the money for my new tires beneath a wrench on his bench and put my helmet on. I didn’t know if I could beat these guys. Years of training in various fighting techniques could only get one so far. And the clear skies above meant I couldn’t call lightning down to help me. Then again, no one besides Vidar knew I could do that, and I didn’t really want to expose the secret. A few weeks ago many had seen Sonya—the Seeker—and I get hit by lightning, but they didn’t know that she had attracted it and I had channeled it and turned it into a force to heal her. From the rumors, they just thought Odin had used divine intervention to heal the Seeker.

  As far as I knew, that healing trick, channeling lightning and detecting the condemned were the only extra powers an uppskera had. And the lightning thing seemed to be unique to me and Sonya because the uppskera journals didn’t say a thing about it.

  Even that didn’t compare to an alpha’s ability to suppress, or even draw out, their packs’ power to the point where they could force them to shift. What good was the ability to channel lightning when I had to rely on a storm?

  “Get lost, you fools! You can’t beat Odin’s chosen,” Olaf shouted. Like any red-blooded werewolf, he sounded excited by the prospect of them trying.

  I fired up the bike and drowned out the trio’s snarky replies. I left some of my new rubber behind on the floor of Olaf’s shop as I tore out of it. The BMW hit forty-five before I whipped it into a hairpin turn to pull in the next driveway down and over from Olaf’s. I killed the bike’s ignition beneath the arched entrance sign of the Hemlock Street Park and coasted to a stop in one of the parking spots along the expansive lawn. This place would do nicely. Being behind the seven-foot-high rock wall that surrounded the circular public part of town, no outsiders would see what happened here. I climbed from the bike and turned around just as the three jogged up the drive. Crossing my arms beneath my B-cup breasts, I waited.

  They were older than me, but not by much. Each one was tall and built. They wore traditional Norse hairstyles; long on the top and shaved on the sides, the long bits braided back in different fashions. So they thought they were badass Vikings of old then. Fine by me. That would make this interesting.

  “Ayra Valdisdöttir, the tiny albino is the uppskera,” the middle one said with a shake of his head.

  I recognized him from high school, a member of the Arnoddr pack. He’d been almost as bad of a bully as my brother. And a redundant idiot on more than one level.

  I lowered my arms. “Yeah, I am, Corey. I hear you think you can do the job better.”

  He thrust his chin up. “Damn straight I can.” He swept his arms out to his companions.

  Now that they were close enough I recognized them too; Claude and Leif from the Reinhard pack. Leif was a friend of Raul Andreson’s—the man who had bitten in the Seeker without her permission. The prickly fingers of fear poked at my innards. Corey and Claude had been among those that had tormented me through middle school and half of high school. Memories flooded in and I was helpless to stop them: the boys pulling my hair while they made fun of it, of them piling extra food on my lunch tray as they walked past while teasing me about being a runt, the nasty notes left on my locker
.

  A seed of anger sprouted inside that fear. My left foot slid back, and I settled into a fighting stance. Lifting my chin, I beckoned to him.

  “Then prove it,” I said in a voice so steady it surprised even me.

  It was stupid, I knew, challenging three guys who had played college ball at Montana State. If I died then I was right and Odin had made a mistake in choosing me. A more worthy uppskera would rise. If I was wrong, then these bullies would finally get what was coming to them. Either way, I was good with the outcome. The assholes came at me all at once. So much for honor.

  Corey lunged straight for me with a front kick so fast his leg was just a blur. But I knew it was coming. His power gave it away. A steady pressure built in his legs before he even moved into position. I dodged with time to spare as Claude and Leif flanked me. One threw a sidekick, the other moved in to grab me. One huge step back took me out of their range. They collided with a thud. Leif fell toward me, and I slammed my foot into his jaw. Blood flew and he sprawled back onto the grass.

  Claude let out a roar and rushed me. Instead of moving, I grabbed his shirt and rolled backwards, pulling him with me. Knees to my chest, I placed my feet against his abdomen. I extended my claws, right into his pecs. A girlish scream came from him. It wouldn’t kill him but you would have thought so with the racket he made. As we rolled back, I kicked out, throwing him past me with his own momentum more than my strength.

  A booted foot flew at my face. I grabbed it and yanked it toward me. Corey growled as he hit the ground. His muscles flexed and his power flared, giving away the kick his other foot was about to attempt. Keeping hold of his foot, I rolled away. He rolled with me rather than let me dislocate it. Damn. I let go and continued to roll. I jumped up just in time for the other two to come at me again.

  Anger flared, raising my power with it. The strength of it scared me. Teeth gritted to hold the anger back, I threw a sidekick into Claude’s chest. He grunted and stumbled back several feet. The surprise in his eyes made me smile. From behind me I felt the press of Leif’s power as he advanced. I thrust a leg back and connected my foot with his jaw at a high rate of speed. The scent of more blood flavored the air. I breathed it in like a delicacy to be savored. With it came a bit of Leif’s power. It tingled on the edge of pain and pleasure, a bit like lightning and electricity did.

  That was new.

  A full feeling, like downing too much water too fast, filled me with an intense pressure. Corey landed a punch in my solar plexus. Pain reverberated throughout my midsection. Ignoring it, I jabbed a fist straight into his stomach. The full sensation slowed my strikes, making them less powerful. I tried to breathe Leif’s power out, but it wouldn’t leave me. Corey landed another punch to my right shoulder. Furious, I let out a scream as I punched for his nose.

  Power—my own and Leif’s—flowed down my arm, adding speed and strength to the strike. Blood exploded from Corey’s nose as my fist connected with it. The full feeling left me.

  He didn’t go down, so I breathed in, seeing if I could suck in his power like I had Leif’s. I could. It fed my power, which in turn fed my strength and speed. But channeling it wasn’t easy. It came and went in bursts, growing weaker when I needed it most and stronger when I couldn’t do anything with it. I hit him three more times before he finally went down.

  So, this was what the uppskeras of old talked about in their journals. Their references had been vague, as if they didn’t want whoever was reading to understand unless they were experiencing it themselves. I got it now. Couldn’t have the packs knowing this was the reaper’s true power. Not even alphas could use others’ power like this. They simply attracted or repelled it like a magnet, not absorbed it. If only it were easier to control and use.

  My attackers kept coming. They were every bit as strong as they looked, and fast, and well taught in various fighting techniques. Each attempted strike and hit made me madder and madder until I started to understand the term “seeing red”.

  As I drew their power, getting stronger and faster, they grew weaker and slower. But I could barely control this new ability. If I could only figure it out, it wouldn’t matter that I was a buck ten soaking wet.

  Maybe, just maybe, the Allfather hadn’t made a mistake in choosing me after all. If I could figure this out. I almost believed that as I beat them back again and again. They landed a fair amount of blows on me, but I landed more. I could take it. I’d grown up taking it.

  A fist slammed into my jaw. Rage erupted from me in the form of a vicious growl. With it went the power I’d just stolen from one of them, right into my kicks, punches, and swipes of my clawed hands. Two of the men went down, and stayed down. They moved, so they were still a threat, but I focused on the one standing for now. When he didn’t attack, I stalked toward him.

  Deep in Corey’s eyes hid a healthy amount of fear. It only enraged me more. He didn’t get to be the victim. Not after the way he had tormented me over the years. Claws and fangs bared, I launched myself at him. We ended up on the ground with me on his chest. I started pummeling him. I had the good sense to close my hands into fists rather than slash at him with my claws—but just barely. At first he fought back, bucking beneath me and jabbing at me with his fists. But with each struggle I drank down more of his energy. Soon he couldn’t even hold up his hands to block my strikes.

  The press of power warned me of Leif and Claude rushing up behind me. I tried to suck in their energy and couldn’t, not while I was punching Corey. A fist struck me in the breastbone so hard the air in my lungs vacated in an involuntary rush. Anger scorched away the restraint I’d been clinging to. A furious growl tore from me as I started punching him. His hands fell away. Blood spewed from his mouth, splattering my chest and hands. The smell fed my rage.

  “Ayra, stop!” came the voice of reason, the only voice that could make me stop.

  I froze, fist in midswing. No, not a fist. My hand had opened, claws extended. I hadn’t even realized it. If I had followed through with that swing…

  A big hand closed around my wrist in a gentle grip. Head still in the fight, my power tried to suck his in. It couldn’t. He helped me to my feet. I turned away from the three men lying barely conscious on the ground to peer up at Vidar’s tall, dark form. His power flowed out and around mine, cradling it, encasing it almost. It soothed me, helped me think again. His gentle hazel eyes lacked the surprise I felt at this.

  Hand sliding down to take hold of mine, he led me several steps away from the groaning men. Someone cleared their throat and I realized we had an audience, a big one. Well over a dozen people had gathered in the park. They all stared at me with reverence, accept for one. Kneeling on Leif’s back, holding one of his arms twisted up at a painful looking angle, was the man who had set all this in motion: Raul Andreson. Strange, what the Hel would he be doing here?

  “What happened?” Vidar asked, voice as gentle as the caress of his power.

  “They challenged me, thought they could beat me and become the uppskera.”

  Vidar made a dismissive noise. “Idiots. It doesn’t work that way.”

  “I tried to tell them that.” I had hoped I’d been wrong. But then, they hadn’t beat me, so that still wasn’t proved or disproved in my book.

  I looked at their bruised and battered bodies, at all the blood. They writhed slowly in agony. None of them would rise soon, and at least two of them wouldn’t be able to do so on their own. They’d live. Werewolves are strong and we heal fast. But seeing the damage I had wrought, that thought didn’t bring me much comfort.

  Low whispers started up around us.

  “Did you see that?”

  Gods, I was afraid everyone had seen it.

  “She beat three of our youngest, strongest wolves without breaking a sweat.”

  “Looked like she even held back.”

  Maybe a little, but I had tried not to. Wouldn’t want to displease Odin if I lost and hadn’t given it my all. But partway through the fight I had realized that
if I had given it my all, I might have killed them. My entire life I hadn’t thought I was worthy of being the uppskera. Being born with a mark did not a chosen one make. Or so I had thought. But this ability to siphon energy leveled the fighting field. It meant my size didn’t matter so much anymore. There might be a chance I could do this after all.

  Vidar’s hand slid down and tried to take hold of mine, but I pulled away.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said, tone hurt.

  In a numb state of charged energy, I followed him to the parking lot. The awestruck gazes of all these people made me nervous. They parted for us, bowing low as they made a wide path, some exposing their throats, others the backs of their necks. I recognized each of them. Some were guys and girls I had gone to school with, but others were people from the town, even a few elders in their three and four hundreds. I had a feeling there wouldn’t be any more challengers. I wasn’t sure if that made me feel vindicated or disappointed.

  They trailed along behind us like a pack following its leader. The skin on the back of my neck prickled in an attempt to raise hair that wasn’t there. If I were in wolf form, my hackles would have been standing on end. Sensing my displeasure, our followers stayed back fifteen feet or more. Comments whispered in awe, reverence, and even fear in a few cases continued in hushed voices. Each one made me tense up just a little more. But what really ate at me was walking away from Raul. The trial had happened so quickly after my awakening that I hadn’t had a chance to confront him.

  I stopped. “You go ahead. I’ll be right there,” I told Vidar.

  He nodded and took a step back. “I’ll wait for you.”

  I nodded and walked off toward where Raul held Leif on the ground. Claude, who had just regained his feet, bowed his head low and took several quick, stumbling steps backwards.

  “Let him up,” I commanded.

  Raul’s disarming amber eyes gave me a questioning look. “Are you sure?”