Josh opened the gate and led me up to the steps. “We practically live here so we have keys. Taran’s dad is gone a lot and his mother—” He broke off.
“His mother?” I prompted.
“She died when he was nine. It’s been a long time but he isn’t over it. Neither is his dad. They left her stuff out everywhere. It’s like she’s still here. She was our mom’s friend, came from the same place.” He unlocked the front door and moved his arm in a sweeping gesture so I’d walk in ahead of him.
As I did, every hair on my body stood on end when I faced the massive, hand-flattened piece of metal art taking up an entire wall of their living room. Staring, it felt like my heart jumped into my throat as a current of fear brushed over my skin like static. Everything was coming together. Like we were all tiny chess pieces on a crazy Norse god-driven game board.
The art was a depiction of the triple goddess spiral. The very symbol of the norns my sisters and I carried inside us.
Chapter Three
I couldn’t take my eyes off it. My heart left my throat and started thumping as if I’d jumped into the middle of a race, my palms suddenly sweating inside my gloves. My entire life had been spent separate from most people as we kept our Norse heritage secret. We always ran if the subject even came up—our mom was that paranoid. But most barely knew a thing about Norse gods, or even knew magic existed. Now, in the span of a day, I’d met kids who spoke the old language, and I was looking at the most beautiful representation of the triple goddess I’d ever seen.
My norn shifted inside me and I put a hand over my sternum. It hit me then that she must miss her sisters in a way I couldn’t understand. Yeah, I missed mine, but to have spent so very long separated after they’d come into us? It had to feel like being banished into one of the worst levels of hell.
I could tell she liked the symbol, could actually feel the warmth of her approval.
“His mom loved mythology.” Grim said with a shrug as he walked past me. He picked up a small package off the coffee table and ripped it open as he plopped down on the couch.
“It’s Fun Dip,” I murmured, still reeling over the goddess symbol but glad to know what he’d been chewing on this whole time.
“He has oral fixation issues.” Josh tossed his coat onto a leather chair and walked to the woodstove in the corner.
I stared at the black appliance in surprise—hadn’t seen one of those in Florida before. Of course, it wasn’t like any of my family actually went into other people’s houses. Like we had friends.
“Oral fixation issues? Really?” Grim threw the unopened powder packet back onto the table. “Yet you’re the one who kept his pacifier the longest.”
Josh frowned. “I thought Taran said he was gonna start a fire. His mom insisted this thing be installed and they don’t even use it when it makes sense.” He walked to the couch and picked up the discarded packet, shook it. “Grim doesn’t ever eat the fruity part—just chews on those nasty pieces of chalk.”
“I like them.” Grim shrugged again.
“They’re the best part of Fun Dip,” I agreed, then I just stopped talking because Taran walked into the room and all my attention shot to him.
He had the bad boy vibe down.
I mean really down. He strolled into his living room wearing a lazy, naughty grin and half his clothes. I looked for goose bumps because he had to be cold, but there was nothing but a smooth expanse of skin and muscle. Not that I could take my gaze off the intriguing ripple of muscle in his stomach, revealed by the loose, low jeans and the unbuttoned long-sleeved blue shirt.
He didn’t even have socks on.
It took all my concentration not to shiver because I had a feeling he’d interpret that as a reaction to him and not the cold that had followed Josh, Grim and me inside.
Who was I kidding?
It was all him. Holy gods, he had me quaking inside like an idiot. He had one of those leanly muscled frames that made him seem taller than he actually was—but he was still tall compared to me at five foot one.
Josh snorted, rolled his eyes. “I could have sworn you had clothes on when we left here.”
“I took a shower.” Taran had a gorgeous, sharp-featured face, with high cheekbones, full lips and a brown-eyed stare that made me feel as if he could see any and everything about me. Even though he looked relaxed, that same fierce intensity came off him as if he had his own electrical current. “I still had that police station funk smell in my hair.” He came closer, stopping a couple of feet from me. “Back here to try to protect me again?”
“This is Coral, though you probably found that out last night when you guys pulled your little magic trick.” Josh pulled a navy blue throw blanket off the back of the couch. “Are you gonna explain that finally?”
“You’ll have to talk to her.” Taran looked me up and down, his lips twisting in amusement when he took in the bright orange boots, then again when he eyed the colorful feathers clipped into my hair. He nodded toward my bag. “What’s with the giant purse?”
“She’s a hoarder.” Josh threw his long legs over the arm of the couch. “You should see the back of her car. All kinds of crap in there. Now, about that trick—”
“I’m not a hoarder.” I interrupted him because I had no intention of explaining all this to anyone but Taran. I clutched the bag closer to me, feeling ridiculous in the big coat and multilayers of winter clothes. “I have important things in here.”
“I’ve seen the shows.” Josh stretched to grab the Fun Dip packet, ripped it open, licked his finger and stuck it into the bag. He waved his newly purple digit at me. “All things are important to you people.”
I glared at him.
Grim blinked and rubbed his eye. “Dude, quit flicking that stuff.” He grabbed the bag from his brother. “Hey, Taran, wanna hear something crazy? She’s Norse like us.”
Light brown eyebrows rose as Taran looked at me again. “Oh yeah? Funny, you don’t look it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You do know that north men and women didn’t all look alike? That they took in people from all cultures, right?”
He nodded. “It’s just that you look more like you came from here.”
He was right. I did. Sort of. I did have the long, thick black hair of my mother’s people. “My mother is Arapaho.”
Grim chuckled. “Her temper might even rival yours, Taran. Both her sides come from warrior cultures.”
Taran merely stared at me.
I nervously shifted the bag again, wincing at the loud clinking noises. I’d readied several spells, put them in vials, and wrapped towels around them so they wouldn’t break, but I should have swathed the entire stone gargoyle collection I brought, as well.
“You can set that thing down.” Taran started buttoning his shirt, still not looking away.
I set my bag on the floor beside the table, then crossed my arms, not sure where I should start. “Thanks for inviting me in.” There, that was a good start.
“I’m curious why you’re here. Again.”
My gaze caught on the metal symbol on his wall. Might as well jump in. I pointed. “What do you know about that?”
He shrugged, pulled a pair of white socks he must have had hanging out of his back pocket and sat to pull them on. “My mother was into that stuff. She said her ancestors and my father’s shared a common bond in that symbol. She was a little obsessed if you can’t tell.” He waved his hand toward more of the same symbols on different prints and carvings. “Maiden, mother and crone. The Greek fates. Things like that.”
“It wasn’t Greek fates and you know it.” Grim crunched on his candy. “It’s about the norns. And guess who’s a triplet?”
“Dun, dun, dun,” Josh sang.
My heart started pounding.
Taran hesitated while pulling on the
second sock. His grin stretched slow and wicked. “Oh yeah? Identical?”
“Straight guys.” Grim rolled his eyes, took his feet off the coffee table and sat up. “Seriously? Dudes, in walks one of three Norse triplets during a freak snowstorm, one who can apparently mess with the space-time continuum, and both of you only want to know if her sisters look like her.” He waved his candy. “I’m ashamed of testosterone right now.”
A phone beeped and Josh dug his cell phone out of his tight jeans. It beeped twice more. “We have to run. Mom’s having a conniption. Texting in capitals.”
Grim stood and offered me a sweet smile. “I apologize again for their one-track minds. Hope you’ll be around again tomorrow so you can explain how you got across the yard like that.”
“Yeah, me too. Want us to walk you back to your car?” Josh snagged his coat off the chair.
“I’ll take her,” Taran answered. “Later.” He looked at me. “Unless your parents are looking for you?”
I shook my head. “No, no parents. Not one caring about where I am right now anyway.” And there went my mouth. If these guys had any sort of idea about hurting me, I’d just pretty much told them nobody would be looking. I picked my bag back up so I’d have protection spells on hand if needed. I’d brought them for him, but wouldn’t hesitate to use them. I also had my boline somewhere in there—the knife I used for cutting herbs. In that moment, I thought about my earlier vision. That boy had moved during my rune tempus...but so had whoever had hit him.
Taran had been moving and aware during it last night.
My gut still told me he was incapable of such a thing, but my brain was erring on the side of caution.
“Wait,” I said to Josh when his hand touched the front doorknob. “Were you guys with Taran all day?”
“Nah, that jerk cop dragged his butt to the station again.” Josh stuck a green beanie over his spiked hair. “We came over when he got home a couple of hours ago.”
It couldn’t have been Taran with the hammer then. I shivered, which made the stuff in my bag clink again. Someone else had done it. Someone else who wasn’t affected by my rune tempus.
“Later,” one of the twins yelled as they slammed out the front door.
When I looked back at Taran, that lazy grin had vanished and the frown that replaced it looked both pained and fed up. “Why’d you ask them that?”
I scrambled for an answer. Starting with I had a vision of a boy being hit with your hammer into the water would probably have him kicking me out before I could do what I came for. “I heard on the news another kid had been hurt.”
He pushed long dirty blond bangs out of his eyes, tilted his head. “So you came here? Alone? Thinking I was guilty?”
I didn’t answer. What could I say?”
“I haven’t hurt anyone.” He crossed his arms, shook his head slowly. “I didn’t hear anything about someone else getting hurt on the news. Did it say who? Or where?”
“No.”
“So that’s why they let me go tonight,” he murmured. Rock music blared from his pocket and he groaned. “That will be my dad. I’ll go get us something to drink while I see what he wants.”
I barely listened, too caught up in fear. Someone with a lot of power was involved, and it couldn’t be my mother because she wasn’t that good. Not enough to fight the rune tempus and not enough to summon a hammer from an evidence room. Something brushed over my skin—a sort of slow ripple of evil that flickered through the air. I hurried to the front door. The huge tree in his yard blocked most of the view but I felt a presence out there—one that could be my mother. But it felt different. Worse. Like some kind of depraved creature skulked just out of sight, one that had wallowed in sticky puddles of the worst sort of magic.
And again, the sensation was familiar.
A memory flashed and I closed my eyes, tried to concentrate and pull it to the surface of my mind. It was of one of the nightmares I’d had for a long stretch of time when I was little. A recurring dream of a manlike thing that sneaked into our tent at night to stare at my sisters and me.
I rubbed the goose bumps that sprang up on my arms, remembering how many times I woke my sisters with my cries. And how they had never, not once, seen him. I tugged off my coat, set my bag on the floor and started pulling items out of it. Taran was going to think I was a lunatic, but in that moment I couldn’t care less. The malevolence coming from outside along with the memory of that suffocating fright pricked at my skin. Taran’s shadow fell over me just as I was setting down the third gargoyle. I had brought my entire collection of the protective statues and planned to put the other three at his back door.
“So...” Taran drew out the word as he crouched next to me. “I’m trying to think of something funny to say here. Something about playing with dolls, but I’m at a loss. What’s with the freaky little creatures?”
“They offer protection and it’s good to have more than one because they work better when they aren’t lonely.” I faced them out, next to each other.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Lonely? You think these things need friends?”
“Doesn’t everyone? Of course they do.”
“You aren’t wrapped too tight, are you?” He chuckled. “I kinda like that.”
“They meaning the gargoyles.” I frowned, cluing in to what he meant and shooting him a quick glare. “You’re making fun of me.”
He put his hand on his chest, lifted both eyebrows. “I didn’t mean to. Really, I didn’t. I think your gargoyles are um...cute.”
“Well, I think they’re sweet.” Sighing, I stood and swept my coat off the floor. “I have a few more to put by your back door. Is it in the kitchen?”
“Those gnarled, scary faces are sweet to you?” His mouth twisted, showing one dimple to the side. “Guess I have no chance, then.”
I narrowed my eyes. “If I’m not wrapped too tight, why would you want one?”
Both dimples appeared. Light from the streetlights shining in through the glass of the door, made his eyes sparkle. “Trust me—I want one.”
“Your friend Josh said you aren’t the affectionate sort.”
“Maybe I haven’t had a reason to be.” And again, that smile stretched his mouth wide. The smile that said so much more than his words.
I could not stop the heat that crept up my neck and probably blazed across my cheeks. “You don’t mind the statues?”
“Nah. Feel free if you think I need protection. So,” he drew out, putting his hands in his pockets. “Now that my friends have left, you want to tell me why you’re really here? It’s not often a gorgeous girl shows up to put little dolls by my doors.”
My cheeks heated with the gorgeous part of his statement. “They’re powerful spirit protectors, not dolls. If you don’t mind, I have a couple of other protection spells I’d like to do. When is your dad coming home?”
Taran scowled. “He doesn’t know. Apparently they need every cop in town because a few have taken off to be with their families and the crazies are out in full force.” He rolled his eyes. “People are looting. Some are saying it’s the end of the world.”
I looked away from him because technically, it was. Ragnarok began with three years of winter with only one summer break. Then there were supposed to be huge waves and out-of-control fires. War. All the stuff of nightmares. My mother had been telling us about the end-of-the-world battles my whole life. My sisters had never wanted to believe, but I had because why else would we be carrying norns? But now that it was here...I realized I’d still hoped none of that would play out. Heart heavy, I pulled a vial out of my purse and sprinkled its contents on the threshold. Looking up, I caught his silent question in both raised eyebrows. “It’s saltpeter melted in water. Also a protection spell.” I pulled out the dill and sprinkled that around the saltpeter water.
“So, you
really are here to protect me?” This time his smile didn’t have the arrogant tilt of earlier—genuine amusement softened his features. “Guess you’ll have to stick around since I’m not allowed to leave the house. I’m still under suspicion for assault.”
I thought about how hard that kid in my vision had to have been hit to fly off the pier like that. It was possible Taran would be under suspicion for murder now, despite his alibis. I’d seen his hammer there, covered in blood. “So you couldn’t walk me to my car after all, huh?”
“I think as long as my house is in sight, I’m technically home. Not that I give a crap about their rules.” He muttered the last part under his breath.
“But today, when that kid was hurt, you said you were at the police station.”
“Yeah, about that.” He picked up one of the gargoyles, frowned at its face and set it back. “I’d really like to know how you know about that, because I watched the news when I got home and saw nothing about a third kid.
I closed the vials and wrapped them in the dishrags I’d had them in earlier. Not that the material had helped with the clanking. “I did.” I didn’t look at him because I’m a crappy liar. “So why are they still watching you? Because of the hammer?” I had read about that in the article my mom had printed.
He nodded, stood and held out his hand. “Come on. You can tell me why you think I need protection while we have some hot chocolate.”
I took his hand, glanced out of the front door again and hoped that whatever was out there, stayed out there as I followed Taran into the kitchen.
Looking around with interest, I was surprised to find more examples of my culture in the small goddess figurines atop a narrow roll-top desk next to a rectangular breakfast table with three chairs. The kitchen held more white than a hospital—with cabinets, counters and appliances in different shades of it. The only splashes of color were in the black coffeepot and a yellow cookie jar in the shape of a goat’s head. “That’s creepy.” I slapped my free hand over my mouth and tightened my other hand around my bag. “Sorry.”
Forecast Page 4
