Struck: (Phoebe Meadows Book 1)

by Carlson, Amanda

  But this wasn’t the Ingrid I’d come to know and love.

  This Ingrid was dressed like a gladiator in some time-gone-by era where people smote one another for a living. Or at the very least, they impaled their opponents with wicked-looking spears, like the one she held tightly in her left fist.

  Ingrid glanced down the front of herself like she was noticing her bronze breastplate, white tunic, leather arm guards, and full-length lace-up moccasins for the first time. “Well, I can’t very well protect you if I’m not armed and ready for battle, can I?”

  “Protect me? Why would I need protection?” Right then, the raven soared over the partition with a huge flap of its wings, screeching loudly.

  CA-CAW. CA-CAW.

  I shrieked and hit the floor.

  Okay, maybe I needed a little protecting.

  “Use your spear, Ingrid!” I gestured wildly at the ornate weapon. “That bird is not going back out that window without a fight. Hurry, before it pecks us to death!”

  Instead of impaling the flying beast with her spear, Ingrid chuckled warmly. “Huggie, it’s nice to see you again.” Her tone was affable as she nodded to the bird, which had managed to find a new perch on one of the wooden bedposts of my bed, which sat in the middle of the small studio room. “It’s been a while, old friend, hasn’t it?”

  The bird gave a giant squawk in response.

  I blinked a few times.

  I was crouched on the floor, arms comically wrapped around my head. I was certain the bird was going to peck out my brain, so I was doing what any logical person would do in my place. I was shielding it. I sat there, pretending I hadn’t just heard what Ingrid had said to the killer bird.

  The urge to run screaming out of my apartment pressed down on me.

  That, combined with the jitters and near constant heart-hammering, made it hard for me to keep still. My legs quaked, and my heart felt close to bursting. Instead of fleeing my apartment, screaming like a madwoman, I managed, “Did you just call that bird Huggie?”

  “Yep, this here is Hugin,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Your dad sent him to help you. Kind of like your own personal animal totem. Huggie can relay thoughts. You should be able to feel something from him once you get to know him a little better.”

  “Huh?” I needed to find a different position, or I was going to fall over. Instead of collapsing in a heap on the floor, which I pondered for a long, sweet moment, I edged onto my knees and shuffled over to my one and only piece of furniture that wasn’t a bed—a shabby-chic chair I’d found at a thrift store—and pulled myself onto the thing, sitting down with a thump. I bent over and rubbed my temples. “Um, Ingrid,” I mumbled, “I hate to burst your bubble, but my dad runs an Ace Hardware store in rural Wisconsin. He couldn’t possibly have sent me a gigantic raven as an animal totem. And even if the sky did fall, and the world spun wildly on its axis, why would he sneak all the way to New York, break into my apartment, and drop a man-eating raptor in my kitchen without even sticking around to say hello?”

  Why I was trying to make sense of this was the bigger mystery.

  Ingrid was obviously delusional.

  “Huggie came here of his own accord. Your dad only asked him to come. Well, he likely made it an official order, but the bird makes his own decisions. You can’t be this old without gaining your own power, and Huggie here is as old as they come. Isn’t that right?”

  The bird gave a loud squawk in answer.

  I lifted my head, staring at her with an open mouth. With mock enthusiasm, I said, “Well, that’s a huge relief. I wouldn’t want the bird terrorizing us to be robbed of its own free will.”

  “Free will. That’s a good one, Phoebe.” Ingrid chuckled as she strode over to my closet door and pulled it open. “Okay, enough dillydallying around. We have to make haste. They’re already tracking you, and time is of the essence.”

  Make haste? Time is of the essence?

  Ingrid wore lumberjack shirts exclusively. Her hair was military short, and she rarely left her apartment. She had a hard edge and most certainly did not use words like dillydally.

  “Who…exactly is tracking me?” I glanced warily at the raven. It had its beady eyes pinned on me.

  Ingrid poked her head out of the closet, duffel bag in hand. “When you got struck today, the Norns found out about you for the first time—and let me tell you, they are biting mad. Pulling the wool over their eyes for the last twenty-four years was no small feat. Manipulating them is nearly impossible for us regular people to do—and only barely possible for a god.” Ingrid began yanking clothes off hangers and tossing them into the duffel bag she’d set on my bed. “If they get to you before I can get you to the Valkyrie stronghold, you’ll either be killed or tossed into one of the Nine Worlds quicker than you can say, ‘Odin’s my dad.’”

  “Okay, Ingrid, I have to stop you right there.” Wearily, I stood, one hand out in front of me, partly to ward off the giant raven from coming any closer and partly because I had no idea what else to do. “I’m not quite sure how you know I got a weird shock today. I was sort of saving that to tell you over popcorn during our movie tonight, but this entire conversation is making me crazy. More crazy than usual. I don’t understand why you’re dressed up in a toga like a Roman Coliseum fighter, or why there’s a raptor perched on my bedpost, or why you’re telling me these odd things, but just to be clear, my parents go by the names Frank and Janette Meadows, and they live in Prospect, Wisconsin. They do not breed ravens, I have no idea what a Norn is, and I’m not going to any Valkyrie stronghold—whatever that is. And, better yet, if you don’t mind, I’d love to continue this entire conversation later. Maybe, say, in a week or two when we’re both feeling back to our normal selves?” I wanted so badly for my life to be normal again. “I know we were supposed to hang out tonight, but I’m okay with rescheduling so you can go back to…your play practice…or whatever it is you’re working on. How does that sound?” I nodded hopefully.

  It sounded like a perfect plan to me. Maybe the best one I’d ever had.

  “Not your real parents, Phoebe. I hate to break it to you like this, but as I said before, time is of the essence.” She tapped her bare wrist right below her leather arm cuff. “Your real dad fell in love with one of his shieldmaidens twenty-five years ago—which is highly forbidden, by the way. You do not mess with the help. They had no choice but to give you to the Meadows family when you were born. Frank and Janette did a bang-up job, if you’re interested in hearing my opinion. But there’s no more time to explain. We need to move.”

  Ingrid had never given off an insane vibe before, but this was seriously over the top. “Ingrid,” I started very slowly, “how is it that you know so much about me? Or, let me rephrase—the me you seem to think I am.” Did that even make sense? “We’ve never met before I moved here. I would’ve remembered you. There’s no way you can know anything about me or where I come from. This is madness, and I don’t know why we’re having this conversation. I think it’s time for you to go.” I paused, remembering my unusual situation. “You know, after you help me get the bird out.” I gestured casually to the raven, which seemed content to sit and watch us, its head bouncing between us as we talked.

  Ingrid was completely unfazed by my order for her to leave the premises. She kept talking like I hadn’t said anything of importance. “I know about you because Leela was my sister—is my sister. I was sworn to protect you the day you were born, and I take that oath very seriously.” She threw more stuff into the duffel bag.

  “I take it Leela is the shieldmaiden who gave birth to me?”

  Ingrid nodded.

  My fake real mother. “Just to humor me—if she’s still alive, why didn’t she raise me herself? You’d think a loving mother would reject the idea of her offspring being given away by her forbidden lover.” I crossed my arms. I was tired and wanted badly to lie down.

  On a bed that didn’t have a raven perched on it.

  “Odin had no choice but t
o seal her away. It was either that or instant death. And a baby wouldn’t have survived the transition process, and even if you had, most of the Nine Worlds are harsh and unforgiving. No place to raise a child. Your survival rate would’ve been nil to none. He made the best choice he could for both of you at the time. They both love you, Phoebe, and that’s why we need to leave right now.”

  “Sealed her where exactly?” Morbid curiosity was apparently now in charge.

  Ingrid moved to my dresser and opened my underwear drawer and began shoveling things into the bag. “Well, we’ve pretty much narrowed it down to Svartalfheim, which is the only world we haven’t been able to fully search yet. Those bastards guard their entrances like rabid dogs. If she’s there, let me tell you, it’s going to be hard work to spring her. Dark elves are nasty, and tricky with their magic. We’ve been trying to find a way in for the past eight years with no luck, but we’re getting closer each day. Invaldi recently made a very big mistake, and he owes one of my sisters a favor. We’re bargaining for entrance right now.”

  My head spun like someone had clocked me right in the face.

  Why had I asked?

  I thumped down on the edge of the chair to steady myself. “Svartalfheim? Come on, Ingrid!” I tossed out my arms. I had to find a way to get her to put my undies back in my drawer and leave. “I can’t believe you’re actually trying to convince me this story is real, and you can stop packing now. I’m not going anywhere, except to sleep. For like a week.”

  “Yes, Svartalfheim. It’s one of the Nine Worlds. Covered in dark elves. Highly dangerous.” She zipped the now full duffel like I hadn’t said anything and slung it over her shoulder like it weighed nothing. “Enough talking. We’re wasting time. We need to get out of here. It’s not safe for you in the city any longer.”

  There were so many things wrong with those sentences.

  I stood, shaking my head. “I’m really, really sorry, Ingrid, but I’m not going to join you tonight. What I need is a hot cup of soup and some honest-to-goodness sleep. If you could just help me get the bird out, I promise I’ll be a good audience the next time you need another run-through with your lines. But, I’m going to stay here and crash.”

  Before Ingrid could answer, the raven swooped off the bedpost, barely flapping its wings, and landed on the table next to me.

  I stifled a scream as the lamp clattered to the ground.

  That thing was huge.

  CAW-CA. CAAA-CAW.

  The sound was deafening this close.

  “Sorry, big guy,” I squeaked, slowly standing and backing against the wall behind the chair, edging as far away as I possibly could. “I’m not really picking up on any mind action, so I think your communication lines might be broken. If I open the window a little more, do you think you could make it back out by yourself?”

  Leave…now.

  The words fluttered through my brain like actual feathers tickling my gray matter.

  I gasped, stumbling to the side, trying to catch myself before I fell. My head snapped to Ingrid, who now wore a devilish grin, and then back to the raven perched on my tiny table.

  “Huggie start talking to you? Good job, bird. Whatever it takes. Now we really have to go. You don’t want to come face-to-face with the Norns, Phoebe. There’s nothing worse. Those hags will tear you apart with their bare hands and cackle while they do it.”

  Instead of moving, I responded in a monotone, my eyes locked on the bird. “What exactly is a Norn, Ingrid?”

  “The Norns are sister goddesses—or witches—depending on who you talk to. They control, manipulate, and foresee what goes on with us, and tend to Yggdrasil, the tree of life. They don’t really care what goes on in Midgard.” She motioned out the window, I guessed to indicate the rest of the world. “But if you go behind their backs like we did for all those years, you’re going to pay in spades. Not even Odin is strong enough to take them on all at once. Nasty bunch of ladies. Come on. I’ll fill you in more on the road.” Ingrid whipped open my front door and disappeared through the opening.

  I glanced wearily at the huge raven.

  It snapped its beak a few times, and I flinched, my fingernails scrabbling on the wall.

  Today, after I’d been struck, I’d felt energized. Now, with everything that had happened, from the mystery one-handed man accosting me on the subway stairs, to right this minute, I felt totally drained.

  I just wanted to lie down. I needed to rest.

  “This can’t be happening,” I muttered to myself. My twenty-fourth birthday was in less than a week. Maybe this was some sort of elaborate practical joke Ingrid was playing on me, starting with exploding fluorescent lights and ending with a telepathic raven and a mad escape from the Norns. I glanced directly at the raven, meeting its beady stare, human to bird. “Ingrid is just taking me to a costume surprise party. I’m going to look back on all of this in a few days and laugh. Isn’t that right, big, scary bird?”

  There was no way this raven was going to answer me.

  I brought a hand up and pressed it against my neck, checking my pulse to make sure I was actually alive and breathing, and made my decision. I was going to shut the door behind Ingrid, lock it, and crawl into bed. Then I was going to pile an army of pillows over my head so the raven didn’t peck me to death. I was pretty sure once it got hungry enough, it would leave through the window from whence it came.

  If not, I’d deal with it in the morning.

  Leave…now.

  The words fluttered through my brain, same as before, with a small tickle and a poof of air.

  My eyebrows shot above my hairline right as Ingrid stuck her head through my still open door. “Phoebe, let’s go! Right now! If you want to live, follow me. If you want to die, then, by all means, stay here. But I wouldn’t wish that kind of death on anyone.”

  I glanced from Ingrid to the raven.

  “Fine. I’ll go,” I squeaked. “But you have to promise me that when we get to where we’re going, I get a drink, possibly with a pineapple slice or two and definitely with an umbrella. I need an umbrella.”

  3

  __________________________

  ____________

  I trailed Ingrid down the stairs. She moved fast, but I managed to keep up. The lighting in my hallway sucked, but the leather crisscrosses holding her breastplate in place stood out starkly over her white tunic.

  “Ingrid,” I said to her quickly retreating back. “Don’t you think it would be a good idea to change into regular clothes? You know, before we actually encounter the general public on the street? Plus, I don’t think spears are allowed on the subway. I’m pretty sure they’re considered deadly weapons.”

  “This is New York, Phoebe. Nobody gives a crap what I’m wearing,” she tossed over her shoulder. “If anybody asks, I’ll tell them I’m an extra in a movie, and they won’t blink twice. Don’t worry about the spear.” She shook the weapon once, and it flexed, snapping smoothly down on its own to the size of a baton.

  When she was done, she holstered it at her waist.

  It must be a trick spear. “That was neat.” I was out of breath by the time we came to a stop in front of the door leading outside. “Can anyone buy one of those? It looked so real before.”

  Ingrid ignored my foolish question, peering sideways through the glass, her back up against the wall. “Huggie’s in place already. The plan is to follow him. He chooses which tunnel we go down, understood? You have to stay close to me. Are you sure you can keep up?” She gave me a critical once-over.

  I glanced down at my own attire, still laboring hard, like I’d sprinted a lap.

  Underneath my wool coat I had on a gray work skirt, black tights, a blue blouse, and fairly sturdy black boots. On my head I wore a black knit hat. A black and white checked scarf finished the ensemble.

  It was winter after all.

  I reached up and rearranged my scarf so it covered half of my face and pulled my black knit cap down over my ears. “I think I can keep up. I mea
n, I don’t see why not. I’m not exactly in your kind of shape.” Ingrid obviously worked out a lot. She was a good foot taller than I was and all brawn. If it weren’t for a set of thick, curly eyelashes framing a pair of clear hazel eyes, she could almost pass for a man. My dull chestnut hair and gray eyes seemed boring in comparison. “But I can most likely get to a subway station without collapsing.” I tried to stop breathing hard to further prove my point, but my lungs weren’t cooperating. I was a swimmer in high school, and I walked the city streets regularly. I wasn’t totally incapable.

  She nodded once and made her move.

  I followed her out onto the street. It was full dark already. Early December brought on the short days.

  I spotted Huggie perched on a flagpole across the street.

  The bird turned toward us, its feathers catching the orange glow of the streetlights, making it shimmer in the low light. It was more than a bit surreal.

  In fact, this whole day had been surreal.

  I guess it seemed apropos that I was going to end my very strange day trailing a huge, gleaming raven named Huggie through the streets of New York City.

  The bird took off, soaring down the street with unusual grace. Its powerful wings flapped fluidly and soundlessly in the dark. Ingrid followed and I jogged behind.

  “Ingrid,” I panted after a while, the cold air stinging my lungs. “We’ve passed three stations so far, and it’s a friggin’ meat locker out here. Are we heading down anytime soon?”

  Up ahead, the raven chose that moment to plunge into a stairwell at the corner of 72nd Street.

  I stopped mid-jog.

  People should be screaming their heads off right now.

  If a bird that big buzzed by me as I was emerging from a subway station, I would’ve hit the ground, shouting for animal control and Valium.

  Nobody noticed the bird at all.

  “Come on, Phoebe. Hurry up. Time to head down,” Ingrid called over her shoulder.