Struck: (Phoebe Meadows Book 1)

by Carlson, Amanda

Tyr’s face was downcast. It seemed like he understood my plight, which made me feel a little better. “Unfortunately, our father chose the wrong path for you. One that has the potential to endanger us all. But make no mistake, it’s not your fault, sister.” It was beyond weird to hear this stranger call me that. “The only thing wrong was the timing of your birth. It was foreseen that a child born at exactly the time you were would be a catalyst, one that would drastically change our worlds forever. The Norns seek to stop it from happening at all costs. It’s their job, so to speak. Killing you because of this is legal in our worlds. Not even Odin himself can forbid them from coming after you. The only option for you now is to run and, when they come, to fight.”

  I rubbed my forehead. He sounded like Fen. Just fight when the trouble comes, no big deal. The wind was bitingly cold. I had so many questions. I didn’t know where to begin. “Huggie, the raven, said that if I stay alive long enough to permanently change the timeline, the Norns will have less reason to kill me. Is that true?”

  “Yes and no,” Tyr answered, his voice a true baritone, deep and low. It sounded menacing, but not like before, especially with Fen standing beside me. “When your mother was pregnant with you, an old seer came to Asgard. No one knew the shieldmaiden was pregnant, as she and Odin were not supposed to be lovers.” He didn’t elaborate, but that was a curious thing to say. Why couldn’t they be lovers? “The seer foretold of a birth that would happen in nine months. A birth that would be cataclysmic to our world. It would change things as we knew it. People took his words to heart and panicked. His predictions spread rampant among people and gods alike. All expectant mothers were sought out. The seer cleared their children based on the timing of the birth. After, we believed we’d been spared, and there was great relief. But Odin kept your mother from being interviewed. He could not bear to lose you. And being a god—and a very powerful one—he had good reason to think his child might be the one they were looking for.” Tyr smiled. At least, I think it was a smile. One side of his lip turned up. “He kept you a secret, which took great skill—as much as a powerful god has to wield. But now that you’ve been revealed, the Norns believe you to be this child. They will seek to destroy you on those grounds alone, as will many in Asgard.”

  I was dumbfounded. “Why didn’t he just leave me human, then? Why did he have to strike me and make me into a Valkyrie? No one would’ve been the wiser, and I could’ve lived my life in peace!”

  Tyr slowly shook his head. His navy blue knit hat was pulled down, covering dark, seemingly wavy hair. I had a feeling that if he removed his hat and took a shower, he would look leagues younger. “The spell he paid the dark elves to craft twenty-five years ago to hide you was reaching its end of effectiveness. When he went back for another, they refused his bid. He had no choice but to strike you in hopes it would give you a better chance of survival.”

  “Okay…um,” I stammered. “I’m not sure what to do with this information. But at least the reason why everything in my life has been skidding downhill like a go-kart with no brakes is becoming clearer.”

  Tyr seemed perplexed at my analogy. I bet they didn’t have go-karts in Asgard.

  Fen’s arm tightened around my waist as he addressed Tyr. “So your father ordered you here to protect your sister? Is that why you came?”

  “No,” Tyr said. “I left Asgard many, many years ago. Soon after you were sent to Muspelheim. I have not seen my father in all that time.”

  “Why would you leave?” Fen asked.

  “Because, my friend, what they did to you was wrong, and I let it happen. You were mine to protect, and it was a job I took seriously. I am atoning for that mistake by wandering the realms in search of answers. I’ve given up the life of a god in favor of finding ways to make things right.”

  Fen snorted. “You will have to keep searching, then, brother. Things will never be right between us.”

  I placed a hand on Fen’s chest. His heart beat rapidly. I knew what Tyr was saying meant something to him, but it would take him time to heal from the betrayal by one he called a friend and mentor for so long. “How did you find out about me, if you haven’t been back to Asgard?” I asked. “How did you know I was here and was about to be hunted by the Norns?”

  “The raven,” Tyr answered. “Hugin tracked me down in Jotunheim and told me of your birth and the story behind it. Then the bird came to me a few weeks ago and told me what was about to transpire. I came as soon as I could.”

  “You rushed to her side like a trusted brother, protecting an innocent sibling you’d never met?” Fen’s voice was harsh. “I don’t believe that. You have always been selfish, out for your own good and no one else’s, God of War.”

  “Yes, that was me,” Tyr agreed, nodding. “But I come here as a man trying to atone for a life of wrongdoing.” He ran a hand over his neck. “The bird also imparted some very important information—facts that are just now coming to light. He told me that the seer was a fake, an impostor. What the seer said about the birth of a child was actually the opposite of what was supposed to happen. The raven fears that the impostor killed the old seer, and we will never discover the truth.”

  “A fake?” Fen said, his voice tight. “Only a scant few can use glamour to that effect.”

  Tyr nodded slowly, but said nothing.

  “No,” Fen replied, shaking his head. “I refuse to believe it could be him.”

  “Who?” I asked. I’d missed something.

  “Loki.” Fen’s voice was as stony as I’d ever heard it. “He is blaming my father for this.”

  “Your father?” I exclaimed, horrified. “You mean Loki pretended to be the seer who could’ve caused the deaths of innocent unborn children?” I had to stop and catch my breath. “That’s horrible!”

  Tyr said nothing while we gathered our thoughts. Finally, he responded, “The raven believes it to be Loki. But as usual, it will be hard—if not impossible—to pin it on the trickster god who relishes in wreaking horror and havoc wherever he goes. He delights in the macabre, which you know well, friend.” He directed his gaze at Fen. “During the timeframe he masked himself as the seer, he and Odin were at war over something else. If Loki had gotten wind that Leela was pregnant with Odin’s child, he would’ve ended Odin’s happiness at all costs.” Tyr shook his head sadly. “It might be that we never uncover the truth.”

  “But if we can prove the seer was an impostor,” I said, thinking quickly, “and the information was wrong, won’t that prove my existence isn’t a threat, once and for all?”

  “That’s not how Asgard works,” Fen answered. “We are guilty until proven innocent. Isn’t that right, friend?”

  “Yes, you are correct.” Tyr nodded. “The logic is not always sound, but that’s the way it had been for us for a thousand years.”

  Before Fen or I could reply, there was a loud cracking noise, like a tree branch being ripped off a tree.

  Tyr made a gesture to grab me, but Fen snarled, whisking me away. “Do not touch her!”

  “Someone is coming, and they will be here soon,” Tyr said. “We need to leave this area immediately.”

  “Who’s coming? Are they coming through a tree? Is it Yggdrasil?” I asked as we all began to run, Fen holding my hand as we made our way back to the street. I spotted the large oak that sat twenty feet away on the main boulevard. It seemed to be glowing.

  “Not Yggdrasil,” Fen answered. “But it means they were granted access to Midgard by an alternate route, one that finds the beacon and takes them within closest proximity.”

  “Am I the beacon?” I asked, my breathing coming in puffs of air, the cold infiltrating my lungs. “It seems that with so many wormholes, Midgard should be crawling with beings from other realms.” I was not happy. We’d barely had a chance to catch our breath since we landed. I’d hoped for more time.

  Tyr was right behind us. “My guess is it’s dark elves. They would want the bounty promised by the Norns the most and have access to other routes to Midgar
d, including by oak trees. Greed is their way of life.”

  “Can we fight them?” I asked. We’d hit a side street. It was late, but this was New York. A few blocks up, people were going to notice us running for our lives.

  “Not advisable,” Tyr said. “We don’t know how many there are, and they will be armed with dark magic. It will be hard enough for Fenrir and me to best them on our own, but likely impossible for you. We can’t take that risk.”

  “So what do we do?” I called over my shoulder.

  “We need a place to hide,” Fen replied, taking a sharp right at the corner. We booked down the next street. No one was on this street either, but our luck was going to run out soon. “You mentioned having a friend. If she lives nearby, that could work. We can duck into her building for safety. We might be able to throw them off the track since we now have a big lead.”

  “Yes,” Tyr agreed. “I have some spells with me. If we can find a safe location quickly, I can dispatch them. It will cover our scent for a few hours. Then we can steal away.”

  Fen was talking about Sam.

  Before I could respond, Fen added, “Your friend will remain safe. You have my word. She might have to leave her apartment for a day or two, if we are found, just to make sure. But once the elves, or whoever is after us, find we’ve left town, there will be no reason for them to linger. The creatures of other realms do not destroy life on Midgard. The penalty is stiff, usually death. We leave humans alone.”

  I glanced up at a street sign as we jogged down the next block. Sam did live pretty close, and she would likely be home. She didn’t go out much, preferring to stay in and study lines or whatever it was that had caught her fancy that week.

  “Okay,” I agreed. “We can see if she’s home. But I need to make double sure we’re not putting her in any danger.” What Sam would make of all this was beyond me. I smiled, imagining her stunned reaction when we tumbled through her door. “Are we allowed to tell her what we are? It’s this way.” I gestured toward the next block on the left before we went too far. Fen was moving fast, and I was surprised I could keep up with him. “We go down two more blocks and up one, and her building is around the corner.”

  As we ran, Tyr answered my question. “Yes, you can tell someone you trust about us, but whether they believe you or not is a different story. There’s nothing they can do to us, so there’s no harm. Even if they told a story about gods from one of the Nine Worlds visiting, no one would take them seriously. The human realm is the only one that has no clue that the others exist. The other eight worlds interact and know about each other. Because of that, we must cloak ourselves when we’re here.”

  “Does that mean the dark elves will be cloaked?” I asked as we turned another corner.

  “If they don’t want to be punished, they will be,” Fen answered. “If you look human, like we do, it’s unnecessary.”

  “What do the dark elves look like?” I tossed a glance behind me. “Do they look like ettins?”

  “Yes and no,” Fen replied as we slowed. We had already covered three blocks and were in front of Sam’s building. Hers was a regular brownstone, like mine, but her apartment was nicer. There was no doorman, but unlike mine, this building had an orderly row of buttons on the outside that corresponded to the apartment numbers. “The dark elves are a little taller and more humanlike than ettins.”

  “More humanlike?” I guessed that was better than more creaturelike. “Don’t worry about explaining. I’m sure I’ll have the unfortunate luck of running into one soon enough.” I depressed the buzzer for Sam’s apartment. She would likely be asleep. I kept my finger on it, tapping it on and off. It would piss her off, but she would also be more likely to get out of her warm bed and answer it that way.

  Tyr’s gaze was locked behind us. “Hurry, I can sense them. They are near. I tossed something behind us to mask our scent a few blocks back, but we need to be off the streets.”

  “I’m working on it—”

  “Who’s there?” Sam’s voice cracked out of the intercom, sounding sleepy. “This better not be a joke. I was having the best dream ever.”

  “Sam!” I yelled excitedly into the little metal grille. “It’s me, Phoebe! I need you to let me in.”

  “Phoebe!” There was a brief pause. “Where the hell have you been? You left town without so much as a backward glance. I spent hours—”

  “Sam, I’m in trouble!” I cut her off sharply. “I’ll explain when I see you.”

  “The door buzzer is broken. I’ll be right down.”

  Fen watched one side of the street while Tyr monitored the other.

  Tyr slid something out of his jacket pocket. It looked like one of those big chalky bath soaps you buy at a specialty store. It was swirled dark purple and white. He grinned at me. “This will make us smell like livestock.”

  Yummy. Tyr hardly needed to smell any worse. Add that to the list of bad smells we were bringing into Sam’s apartment.

  There was a noise, and I spun around.

  Sam stood in the doorway dressed in flannel two-piece jammies. They were light yellow with little blue sailboats dotted all over. Her blonde curly hair was ruffled from sleep. She opened the door a crack, glancing at the guys. “Get in here,” she ordered, waving her hand.

  I slipped inside and just as she was about to shut the door, I said, “Wait. These two are with me. They have to come with me.”

  Sam arched an eyebrow at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “I promise it’s okay,” I assured her. “I have a really good reason for being gone and for bringing two very large, strange men into your apartment at this late hour, but we have to move fast. I’ll explain everything upstairs.” And I’m so sorry one smells like a sewer and now a barnyard, and by the way he’s my half brother. “Please, Sam,” I begged. “Bad men are following us.”

  After a brief pause, she answered, “Fine. Come in.” She waved her arm to usher the boys in. “But the story better be good. It’ll have to top the ‘pizza guy with a banana’ story, or I’m going to be totally cranky.”

  “Oh,” I told her as I walked in, “it’s way better.”

  28

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  ____________

  “I thought your place was bigger,” I commented as Sam shut the door to her apartment. It was an asinine thing to say, but I had no idea how else to start this conversation. We were a motley crew stumbling into her home in the middle of the night.

  There was no good way to begin this.

  I glanced around. Her apartment was clean and sparsely decorated. New Yorkers usually had less, so the space was manageable. We all stood in the small living area, which held a couch, a table, and a few chairs. There was a tiny bedroom off to the left and a small galley kitchen to the right. Her kitchen had actual walls and a door.

  “It looks small because it’s now occupied by both of us and two men who are the size of at least four adults,” Sam answered as she walked over to her couch and sat down, crossing her arms. “Start explaining, Phoebe, or I’m calling the cops. This is too strange, even for you.” She eyed Tyr, not commenting on his stench or his scarred face.

  I appreciated that.

  “I know this looks…weird,” I started, settling on a chair next to the couch as Fen crossed to the window to peer out, while Tyr stood by the door like a sentinel, staring straight ahead. I noted that Tyr’s jacket was extra-large, and the cuff came down to cover his missing hand. Best not to let Sam see it until she’d heard the entire story. She’d already witnessed him tossing an exploding talcum bomb outside the door and had said nothing.

  I didn’t want to push my luck.

  “This is more than weird, Phoebe!” she cried. “It’s bat-shit crazy! First, you don’t show up for work all week, and I think you left town because you were so freaked out about the stockroom incident. I actually forced your landlord to open up your apartment for me, threatening a lawsuit and pretending I was your concerned sister! When I saw your su
itcase and clothes were gone, I figured you left in a hurry and were too distraught to call me. I decided to forgive you—if you ever came back. Now you’re back, but with two guys who make the New York Giants look like kindergartners. What gives? Are they holding you hostage?” She glared in Fen’s direction, and then Tyr’s. “Do you need to give me some kind of sign you’re in danger? Blink twice if you’re their sex slave. I have Mace in my bedroom.”

  “No, it’s nothing like that,” I assured her, leaving off that Mace would hardly be an effective long-term deterrent for a god. “But the story I’m about to tell you is incredibly strange, and I don’t expect you to believe it. But that’s okay. I’m going to share it anyway, and then you can decide what you think. Just know that I would never leave town without telling you. You’re my best friend. If I’d had more of a warning, I would’ve gotten a hold of you. I promise.” I cleared my throat, readying myself.

  This story was going to be tricky to relay in a coherent fashion—one that didn’t make me seem like I needed to be locked up in the loony bin.

  Sam settled back on the couch, arms still crossed. “Well, I believe you already. I knew you would’ve called me. We’ve only been friends for a short time, but I consider you a sister.”

  I smiled. I felt the same way. I’d always wanted a sister, and if I’d had one, Sam would fit the bill. “Okay”—deep breath—“here goes. When I came home from work the night I was shocked by the lights, I found a raven in my kitchen.” Sam’s eyebrows went up, but she refrained from commenting. “Then my neighbor Ingrid showed up. You remember Ingrid, right?”

  Sam nodded. “The beauty who lives next door? I’ve always said she should be a model. Those eyes of hers are killer, and she’s got the height for it. She has to be almost six feet tall.”

  “Yes, she’s tall, but I’m certain modeling is the last thing on her list.” Was it ever. “Anyway, she came into my apartment dressed like she was ready for battle, full breastplate, toga, and spear, and told me I was in danger. Then the raven started talking to me…” I continued to unleash the rest of the sordid tale, all the way up until we’d found Tyr by the docks.