Protector (Night War Saga Book 1) Read online

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.” Mallory’s voice shook. “Should we call an ambulance?”

  “No, I’m fine.” I shushed her. The last thing I wanted was to go to a hospital. The emotions in those places, not to mention the amount of dis-ease in everyone’s energy signatures, always wore me out. Besides, my fingertip pushing thing was working. The headache had given way to a slight buzz, and I didn’t feel terrible anymore. I actually felt pretty good—borderline amazing. What the hell?

  “You are not fine. You’re sweating.” Mallory pressed the back of her fingers to my forehead. “And you’re burning up. If you won’t go to a hospital, then we need to get you home and get this fever down. Can you stand?”

  “I think so.” With Mallory’s help, I tottered unsteadily to my feet, placing my palms on the counter to steady myself. A wave of energy pulsed at my throat, making me sway. “Whoa.”

  “Whoa is right. But dang, girl, your new necklace is gorgeous. How many carats is that thing? Five? Eight?” Mallory reached up to touch my neck. “I’ve never seen a diamond that big outside of LA.”

  Mallory must have been out of it, too. I hadn’t bought a necklace. “I don’t have a diamond. I don’t know what you’re . . . oh!” My pre-pass out moments flashed through my mind The necklace. I reached up and felt the stone hanging from my neck. How had it gotten there? I remembered touching the necklace, but I hadn’t put it on. And I could have sworn the crystal had been bluish, not clear. My palm closed around the stone, my hand absorbing its energy. Every gem had a different vibration, and this crystal had a much higher resonance than the diamond in the ring my Gran used to wear. And while this stone had looked like a quartz when I’d seen it behind the counter, I sensed it was way more powerful than the one I had in my crystal kit back in the dorm. It pulsed a clear, healing energy that felt completely foreign. Where did the lady say it was from? Trondheim?

  “Seriously.” Mallory let out a whistle. “That thing is beautiful. Are there two of them? Because if it’s costume jewelry, I will so totally get one. We can be twinsies.”

  “It’s not a diamond, but I don’t know what it is,” I admitted. “And I haven’t paid for it, so I should just—”

  “Oh, goodness. Customers.” A surprised man hurried from the front door to the counter. “I thought I locked the door. I’m so sorry I had to step out, ladies. How can I help you?” As the man took his place behind the display, his wrinkled face studied me with concern. “Oh, dear, you don’t look well. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I just, uh, wanted to buy this necklace. Please.” I touched the piece at my neck so he would know to what I was referring. “Your co-worker said it cost forty dollars?”

  “I don’t have a co-worker.” The man shook his head. “It’s just me, except on the days my granddaughter comes in after school to help out.”

  “But the lady . . .” I looked around. “She went through the back door. She was, maybe, seventy? About five-foot-two? Silver hair?”

  The man’s mouth turned down in a frown. “Are you sure you feel well, dear?”

  “No,” I said honestly, “but I really would like to buy this.”

  The man stepped closer to me, eyeing the necklace at my throat. I stroked my fingers over the crystal as it sent waves of energy down my arm. Whatever connection I had to this thing was intense.

  “I’ve never seen this before,” the man said. “Someone must have left it here by mistake.”

  “Your co-worker said it had just come in on a shipment from Trondheim,” I offered. If I jarred his memory, this transaction would go faster. My headache had returned, and I just wanted to go home and nurse what was quickly becoming a migraine.

  “Trondheim?” The man’s eyes widened. “We haven’t gotten a shipment from Trondheim in years. Hold on.” He leaned forward. “Did you say a silver-haired woman quoted you the price?”

  “Yes.” Thank God he remembered her. If I didn’t get out of here and lay down soon, my head might actually explode.

  “Ah.” Recognition lit up his light blue eyes. “Well, then take it. If she wanted you to have it, it’s yours.”

  “Thank you so much.” I pulled out my wallet and dug out two twenties, but the man waved his hand.

  “No charge,” he said.

  My fourth center warmed around my heart. “That is really kind, but I couldn’t just take it without paying.” Whatever was going on with this necklace, it was way too valuable to be free. I didn’t want to cheat a sweet little old shopkeeper. “Please, let me pay you for it.”

  “Absolutely not. Shipments from Trondheim have a way of finding the owners who are meant to have them. And if my, erm, co-worker offered this to you, then I want you to have it free of charge.” He patted my shoulder. My entire body warmed at his kind gesture, and when I brought my fingers up to touch the crystal again, my almost-migraine dropped to a regulation headache. Whoa.

  “Wow, that’s incredibly . . . thank you. Thank you so much.” I grinned up at the kind man.

  “We need to get you home,” Mallory said gently. “You’re really pale.”

  “Thank you,” I repeated earnestly to the shopkeeper. “I’ll take good care of this.”

  “I know you will.” The skin around his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “God dag, ladies. And good luck to you.”

  “Thanks,” Mallory called over her shoulder as she pulled me out of the shop and toward the street. “Come on, Allie, we have to get you home. No more skipping lunch. I can’t have my roommate fainting every time we go shopping.” I sensed anxiety beneath the tease—she wanted to lighten the mood. Bless.

  My headache was still there, and my skin tingled as heat prickled across my limbs. What is going on? I held my hand to my neck. Mallory was right—I felt like I was on fire. “I’m really hot,” I admitted. “And I have a killer headache.”

  “I know.” Mallory unlocked her car, and after we got in, she drove off through the leaf-covered streets of Skykomish. When we got back to our dorm, she pointed to my room. “Get into your pajamas, and lie down. I’ll bring you ibuprofen and some of that new water my dad shipped up from LA.”

  “Ugh, the seaweed-coconut stuff? No, thanks.” I’d rather have a headache.

  “It helps everything. All the celebrities swear by it.” Mallory shoved me toward my room. We’d scored one of the new buildings, so all the suites in our dorm had two individual bedrooms that led off a little common room/kitchen. NWU’s privacy-friendly dorm design meant I could put on my pajamas away from my roommate’s concerned eyes. By the time Mallory came in with a tray, I was nestled beneath my downy comforter, stretched out on the side of my double bed that wasn’t covered in textbooks. “Drink all of it,” she admonished as she set it on my nightstand.

  “Thanks,” I said. I put the ibuprofen on my tongue and raised the glass to my lips. A shudder wracked my torso. The magic water smelled horrible, but Mallory stared me down with a stern look. I gagged as I poured the contents of the glass down my protesting throat. “Thank you for that,” I croaked.

  “You’ll feel better in an hour. I’ll let you sleep this off. Yell if you need anything, ‘kay?”

  “’Kay,” I said feebly. What I needed was to throw up that seaweed-coconut water. Yech.

  My head hit the pillow the second Mallory closed the door. My arm flopped, landing on one of the textbooks at my side. Without warning, a fresh surge of energy zapped up my arm. Ouch. I pulled my arm back and rolled my head to the side so I could see what had shocked me, but my bed was only covered in textbooks—no electronics in sight. That was weird. Am I losing it? I prodded my Calculus book with one cautious poke. When nothing happened, I trailed my fingers over the copy of Moliere’s Misanthrope I was reading for Literature. Still nothing. Finally, I rested my hand atop my Classical Mythology textbook. Argh! Another shock shot up my arm, ricocheted across my shoulder, and sent a pulse of heat through the spot where my necklace rested against my throat. I ripped my hand away from the book and tried
really hard to not panic. After taking a deep breath, I stretched out my fingers and placed my palm on the cover, so the energy centers in my hands were fully exposed.

  I let out a gasp as my eyes pinched closed, revealing a movie-screen-like vision against the backs of my lids.

  A red-haired Viking warrior who didn’t look at all like the hottie from the Thor movie—but was still totally gorgeous—stood atop a giant boulder. He swung a T-shaped hammer above his head and released it at an unsuspecting cluster of giants. The beasts dropped to the ground with thunderous booms, the sound echoing across a sea of white-capped mountains. Not far away, a white-haired man with an eyepatch stabbed a red-eyed monster with a sword while shouting a battle cry in the name of Asgard. And in a scene entirely its own, a skeletal, black-haired woman shrieked a declaration of war against Midgard. She cast a titanium-colored sword into the sky, where it emitted a pulse of blinding blue light. The weapon then shattered into eight distinct pieces before scattering across the realms. Fear, rage, and pain engulfed my centers as the woman threw her head back and filled my mind with maniacal laughter.

  I couldn’t take anymore. I yanked my hand back and used my foot to send the book flying across the room. My fingers shook as adrenaline coursed through me. What in the hell had that been? First the blackout, and now the movie-visions . . . I was totally losing it. And my madness could be traced back to one wonderful, awful moment—the moment I’d discovered the necklace.

  The thing had to go. As much as I loved it, I needed to take it off and figure out what was happening to me.

  Careful not to touch any more books, I reached up and spun the chain around my neck. Where was the clasp? Oh, no. No, no, no. It took three frantic turns before I realized that the clasp was gone. This necklace was stuck on me. Stuck. The only way this thing was coming off was via wire cutters. I swung my legs over the bed, but something stopped me from getting up. I didn’t actually want to cut the necklace off. My wardrobe didn’t contain much by way of jewelry, so it would be a pain to hunt down a new, clasp-containing chain. And now that I’d had a few minutes to breathe, my body did feel better. My headache was gone, and I felt less feverish. My mental state, however, was a hot mess. Seeing energy was one thing, but having old-school visions of Norse gods when I touched a book? Total Freakville.

  Mallory knocked on the door and sauntered into my room as I struggled to pull myself together.

  “Hey, how you feeling?” she asked. My roommate was decked out—short dress, heels, and tons of make-up. She looked really pretty. But she was always a knockout, even without the war paint.

  I forced a smile. “Better, but not up for going to the party. I think I’ll go for a run and then just get some sleep.”

  Mallory pouted, her full bottom lip jutting out past her chin. “Aw, I understand. Are you sure?”

  I nodded. There was no need to ask if she’d be okay going without me. Mallory had tons of friends, no way would she be alone for long. And the intensity of a party would send me straight over the edge. What I needed was a good, long run to clear my mind and shake off the weirdness that had gathered in my body.

  When Mallory headed out, I threw on some yoga pants, running shoes, and my favorite hoodie, then made sure to grab the small pink can of pepper spray I’d picked up at orientation. Skykomish seemed safe enough, but there were bound to be a few crazies in every hood. If I couldn’t outrun the northern Washington ones, I’d just shoot them in the eyes with a pink can of chemicals. Easy peasy.

  I felt better the moment I stepped into the frosty air. There was no room for crazy on a crisp, gorgeous evening. After a few stretches, I took off into the night, blasting past the other dorms and out toward the dimly lit park. The sun set early this time of year—winter was just around the corner, and soon the green that lined my running path would be dusted in snow. As I ran under the enormous, hundred-year-old trees, some of the nervous, coiled energy from the blackout and book incidents faded away. I’d known it would—running helped me clear my space so I wasn’t left holding onto junk that wasn’t mine. And right now, I needed some major clearing out. I was going to evict that weird book incident from my brain if it was the last thing I did.

  My sneakers pounded the pavement until I reached the park at the center of campus. The path that led to the quad was lined with streetlamps and trees, so leafy shadows dotted the concrete. Campus was mostly deserted this late on a Friday, but one entwined couple and one solitary guy sat on benches about fifty feet from each other. The couple didn’t bother looking up from their make-out session as I jogged by. Typical. But as I approached the guy, he pinned me with a curious stare. My eyes locked onto his, and something inside me sparked—my stomach stung like it had been shocked. Oh God, what now?

  I slowed my run and examined the guy more closely. His face was shadowed beneath the streetlamp, but his eyes were such a clear blue, they seemed to sparkle in the light. I gave a slight nod as I ran past him, then continued my normal loop along the quad, around the library, and through the parking lot. By the time I got back to the park, the couple was gone, but the guy on the bench was still there. His muscular form sat beneath the streetlight—it really was a lovely view. He quickly pushed himself to his feet as I approached, moving so he stood directly in the center of my path. If I kept on my current trajectory, I’d run straight into him. Was that what he wanted?

  I slowed my jog and moved toward the side of the trail, and he sidestepped so he was in front of me again. He was definitely trying to get my attention. Kind of a creepy way to do it, but if he wanted to talk, I was open. The electricity pinging inside my gut, combined with the familiarity in the guy’s gaze, piqued my curiosity. Jeez, Allie. Need a date much? My brain battled my heart as I struggled with whether to turn tail and run or find out what the guy wanted. On the one hand, he had an energy that resonated familiarity—it felt like I’d met him somewhere before. But on the other hand, we were totally alone—if this guy was going to attack, there wouldn’t be anyone around to help me. And since he continued to stand there, not saying a word, it didn’t look like he was planning to ask me out.

  Crappers.

  I skidded to a stop and slipped my hand into my hoodie, wrapping my fingers around my pepper spray. I was so ready to pull the trigger if that guy came at me. I had no intention of being attacked. But the guy didn’t step any closer, nor did he change his position as I walked purposefully toward the far side of the trail. As I got closer to him, he took one step forward so the streetlamp hit the planes of his body. Holy hell. My eyes roamed over the impossibly tall, unbelievably gorgeous specimen, who put my earlier vision of Thor to shame. The guy must have been six-and-a-half feet in height, with tightly corded muscles that pulled on his long-sleeved, grey thermal. He wore his striped beanie pulled low over his ears, with long, shaggy, blonde hair spilling out of it. When he didn’t come any closer, I relaxed my hand on the pepper spray.

  I cautiously walked around him, preparing to break back into my run. He just stared at me, an unreadable expression covering his perfect features. Icy-blue eyes rested behind thick, dark lashes, and his square jaw tensed as he ran his gaze down my face to my neck, finally freezing on my new necklace. Recognition flickered in his eyes for a split second before a hardness coated his features. A sense of intensity radiated from his furrowed brow, and my mood shifted from appreciative to defensive as the stranger—the totally gorgeous, insanely massive stranger—moved toward me with his arms outstretched. Did he think he was going to tackle me? Screw his familiar-looking eyes. This guy was going down if he tried to touch me. The guy continued toward me without saying a word, and I shifted onto the balls of my feet. Move it, Allie.

  “You,” the guy said.

  “Yup. Me.” I backed up, aiming to put some distance between me and the world’s hottest park attacker. I raised my palm, hoping he’d read my stay back vibes, but instead of walking away he grabbed my arm. Hard.

  “You have to come with me. You’re not safe.” The man
iac pinned me with those crystalline blue eyes.

  No kidding, I’m not safe. The guy’s grip was cutting off the circulation to my hand. No way was I overpowering him, unless I could exploit some weakness in his energy signature. I grounded myself and reached out to brush my energy against his, only to realize this guy had no signature. None. That was impossible. I’d never met a person I couldn’t energetically see. Who the hell was this guy?

  The maniac’s grip on my arm tightened, and I panicked. In one quick move, I pulled out the pepper spray and pushed the button. It only took a second before the burning mist covered his face, and I took the opportunity to rip my other arm out of his grasp. He groaned and folded over, clawing at his eyes.

  Without another look, I turned and booked it, running faster than I ever had before. My feet pounded the ground, and I made my way back to my building in record time. My heart hammered in my chest as I used my keycard to enter the safety of the dorm. Inside, I crossed straight to the panic phone hanging on the wall to report Hottie McCrazypants to security. By the time I finished giving my statement and made it up to my room, I was ready for a long, hot shower. And when Mallory finally got home, she found me curled on the couch, a pint of ice cream in one hand and my can of pepper spray in the other.

  Screw this day. I could start fresh tomorrow.

  ****

  The weekend passed much too quickly. After I told Mallory about the hot maniac, she got spooked and decided to stay in the rest of the weekend. Saturday was devoted to a roommate-movie marathon, and on Sunday, we watched the first big snowfall of the year from the comfort of our dorm. It dumped for most of the day, and I knew by the afternoon, our local hill would have a solid base cover. My skis called to me from my closet, but my Literature paper called even harder. Instead of flying down a mountain, I sat dutifully typing on my laptop while the world outside my window was dusted in white.