Elf Raised (Northern Creatures Book 3)

by Kris Austen Radcliffe

  Mr. Right inhaled sharply.

  I dropped Sal into my hand and stared at Mr. Left. “You do understand that, right now, both of you are within my physical reach?” I could snatch one and slash the other, if I wanted.

  Mr. Left’s eyes narrowed.

  “I am the jotunn of Alfheim.” Intimidating elves was not wise, but something told me that if I really was Arne’s paladin, I damned well better play it up.

  Mr. Right muttered something.

  Mr. Left shook his head. “We have orders,” he said.

  “Yes. I’m sure,” I responded.

  They looked at each other, then at me. They both shook their heads once again.

  I sighed and threw them my best “you disappoint me” look. Sal tossed out her own wave of disappointment. Mr. Right’s lip quivered ever so slightly.

  “You and your bosses are not of this enclave. I am. And I will defend Alfheim and her elves until my last breath.”

  Remy grinned. Mr. Left stared out into the lot.

  Remy saluted the two guards with a hand gesture that said “I’m watching” more than showed respect. “I would pee on your legs but that would be unfriendly.”

  Mr. Right muttered again.

  Remy made a show of sniffing the air. “Woof,” he said, and walked away.

  I crossed my arms and stared at the two elves. “Welcome to Alfheim,” I said, and followed Remy toward our trucks.

  Chapter 4

  Remy leaned against the rear bumper of my new truck. “That was fun.” He pointed at the hotel glamour around The Great Hall. “Which king do you think sent them? They were speaking Russian but my money’s still on Bragisson.”

  Tyr Bragisson, our Queen’s father, and the default Elf Emperor. “I suspect you are correct. Those two switched to speaking Icelandic.” The other kings in Siberia and Norway were not likely to pull a fly-in on Arne. Only his father-in-law had the power to treat the New World elves like children.

  “Dag can’t be happy,” Remy said.

  Good thing Maura and Akeyla moved back into my place this morning. The farther from elven politics they were right now, the better.

  Remy tapped the tailgate. “The only time Bragisson has set foot in the New World was when he presented his daughter to our King.” He shook his head.

  I walked around to the passenger side and set Sal on the seat. Remy followed and leaned against the side panel. “Nice truck, by the way,” he said.

  “Magnus gifted it to me because the vampires totaled my old one.”

  Remy looked impressed. “I’ll remember that the next time I get in an accident.”

  I chuckled. “I doubt the vampire excuse will work twice.”

  He laughed and patted Bloodyhood’s rich, wine-colored finish. “After what they put you through, you deserve a fleet, my friend.”

  I looked back at The Great Hall. The two guards had retreated inside and were no longer visible. Reset magic danced and streamed around the edges of the glamour. Most of the town got through the ordeal intact and okay.

  Did I? I wasn’t yet sure. Benta assured me that the magicks left no physical wounds. I just…

  I closed my eyes. I just didn’t want any more unwanted outside forces messing with my home while I recovered.

  Remy patted my arm. “I think you should finish resting.” He nodded toward The Great Hall. “We both know Arne will put the little Emperor in his place.”

  Maybe, I thought. Part of me knew that even though the vampires had been dealt with, the situation as a whole had not. And unfinished situations were the only reason guards—and presumably an emissary—from the Icelandic Court would fly to Minnesota.

  Arne Odinsson had some explaining to do.

  The other elves wanted to know why the Elf King of Alfheim had allowed vampires access to his territory—and also allowed me to live here as well, since I was what drew out Dracula in the first place.

  No wonder they wouldn’t allow us in.

  Remy pulled out his phone. “Not a lot we can do right now, anyway.” He walked toward his truck, but looked back at me. “Arne will call,” he said, then waved once as he put his phone to his ear.

  From inside my truck, Sal agreed. Arne Odinsson was not an elf who backed down. We were probably lucky right now not to be in the middle of the fight.

  Though Sal would like to engage in a little swinging and hitting.

  I walked around to the driver’s side and got in my truck. A new fight was something I’d like to avoid. “Perhaps I need to find you a new itchin’-for-a-battle partner?” I asked my axe.

  A wave of ironic you disappoint me rolled off Sal. I laughed, though I couldn’t help but notice the increase in her conversational skills—and was met with a clear I chose you.

  “Thank you,” I said, and started my truck.

  Who knew an axe could be such a good friend?

  I tucked Sal into the magazine pocket on the back of the passenger seat and made my way into Alfheim’s main grocery store. Her handle stuck out between the seats and was visible from outside the vehicle, but around here no one was going to break into my truck anyway, so I figured she was safe.

  I loaded up with “magic burger”-worthy ground chuck, fresh potatoes for fries, a new bag of Akeyla’s favorite apples, salad greens, a cantaloupe, and a handful of clean-scented, locally-grown tomatoes.

  The morning air still held a crispness and the sky gleamed a gorgeous, bright fall blue. Downtown Alfheim gleamed too, as if the reset had washed the grit off the streets. Perhaps it had. Or perhaps I was simply happy to be in The Land of the Living.

  Outside town, the trees did a fine job of shading the road, but it’d be nice to get my sunglasses back. They were in the glove compartment of my old truck. I’d call Ed, or Gullinbursti’s, tomorrow, and get them back.

  I saw the woman with the bicycle as I turned onto the road toward home. The bike’s green paint blended into the grass and underbrush, but its rounded, old-style frame and two big saddle baskets behind the seat set it apart.

  The back tire had completely deflated, and the woman tugged the bike along the shoulder of the road toward the lake.

  I didn’t recognize her. She was probably a new neighbor from one of the lake lots, or a tourist from a local lodge. Either way, the truck had plenty of room. I pulled off ahead—plenty ahead, so as not to be frightening—and hopped out.

  “Hi!” I called. “I live up the road. Do you need a ride?”

  She stopped walking. She stood perfectly still and stared, her lovely rich, auburn hair shimmering in the sunlight and her equally lovely hands on the bike’s handlebars.

  She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my entire two centuries. I hadn’t noticed when I drove by—I’d been looking at the bike. But I noticed now. Perfect breasts. Perfect hips. A face that even from twenty feet away I knew was just as perfect as the rest of her. Natural, shimmering magic fluttered around her shoulders and arms. Not controlled, wielded magic like an elf or a witch, but soft, gentle magic that mirrored her soft, curved body.

  Elves were preternaturally exquisite—they were adjacent to beautiful, and in a lane all their own, like leopards or tigers. They were elves, not humans, and had to be appreciated for their nature.

  Real, human beauty was something special.

  The woman’s lips thinned and she tipped her head as she watched me notice her. I swear she was about to burst into tears.

  “Are you okay?” I walked toward her. “My phone’s in the truck. I can call someone if you need help.” I pointed over my shoulder.

  When I looked back, she was wiping her eye. She shouldn’t be crying. Not her, because…

  I did know her. I didn’t recognize her, or remember her name, but I knew deep in my bones that we’d talked sometime in the recent past. I’d seen her smile.

  “Have we met?” I reached out but realized I was being forward and stuffed my hand into my pocket. We must have met in a particular context, one completely different from this one,
and the road must have been interfering with my recollection. “Do you work in town?” Maybe the last time we talked, she was in a uniform, or scrubs.

  She didn’t answer. She wiped at her eyes again.

  I wanted to touch her face and pull her close and stop whatever caused those tears because the deep parts of my soul were roaring protect.

  “Frank,” she said.

  She knew my name. I was the idiot with no memories of how we met but she knew me.

  The need to protect almost burst free, but I caught myself and stopped about five feet away. I wouldn’t be forward and frightening.

  I rubbed the top of my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember your name.”

  “That’s because you were with that elf this morning,” she said.

  She knew about Benta being at my place? Her words felt like a slap—like an accusation, as if Benta’s presence had been what caused the pain so obvious in the set of her shoulders and the tightness of her hands on the bike’s handlebars.

  “Marcus Aurelius is at my cottage. I made him stay because I need supplies and didn’t want to go into town with your dog.” She looked at the trees. “I didn’t want to answer questions from the non-magical locals.”

  “You have my dog?” She’d been looking after my missing hound?

  “You sent him with me.” She rubbed at her eye again. “I can’t do this, Frank. Please go away.”

  I’ve been dumbfounded to speechlessness before. At two centuries old, not having been dumbfounded into silence would show a significant lack of worldly awareness. But this was the first time I’d been dumbfounded into thoughtlessness.

  Nothing swirled in my head. Nothing but the clear, piercing brightness of adrenaline fueled by a genuine, personal, gut-cinching fear that I’d caused this woman pain.

  “I can’t wake up every morning wondering if I’m going to come down the path to your door and find Benta in your bed. I can’t explain to you every goddamned day why you don’t remember me. I can’t. I can’t put you through that. I can’t put me through that.”

  She steered the bike to walk around me. “How often do you go into town? Will it always be in that truck, now? I need to know so I can avoid this.” She waved her hand between us.

  “I don’t understand.” What else could I say? I had no idea what was happening here.

  “No, you don’t,” she said. “The concealment enchantments wipe your memory every evening.” She sniffled. “I’ll send Marcus Aurelius home.”

  “Don’t.” I knew he needed to stay with her. She needed to be safe.

  I touched her elbow. “If you’re enchanted, I can help. The elves can—”

  “No they can’t, Frank!” she yelled. “They can’t see me!” She pushed by. “You will always forget me. Always. It doesn’t matter how you feel about me or how I…” She stopped and looked up at the sky. “I should have known better. I should have sent you away the moment you walked out of the trees and down to the lakeshore.”

  I’m not impulsive. I’ve learned to keep myself under control. I’m measured. Determined. But my need for her came out of nowhere, burst through my chest as if my brother’s pike had done its job and now my unfounded emotions for a woman I did not remember bled from my heart. My soul dripped onto the ground.

  Because of concealments and enchantments. Because someone wanted me to forget and for her to be hidden. “Don’t go,” I said. “Tell me what I need to know. What I need to do to help. Please.”

  She turned her back to me, but didn’t walk away. She stood next to the road holding her broken bicycle as she tried not to cry. “My name is Ellie,” she said. She glanced over her shoulder.

  I extended my hand. “Frank Victorsson,” Maybe I could fix this. “It’s nice to meet you again, Ellie Jones.”

  She turned around. Her eyes and her mouth—her entire face—rounded.

  Ellie Jones. She’d come down the path and she hadn’t run away from my cold morning touch. I hadn’t remembered then, either. “Ellie,” I whispered.

  She dropped the bike and extended her arms.

  I had one moment, one memory back—and I had hurt her. Not intentionally. Not in a planned way.

  Two strides and I picked her up because I had to fix this. I had to. Right there on the side of the road, I scooped my arm under her bottom and lifted her into the air so her chin was level with my mouth.

  She wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her forehead against my temple. Her breath tickled my cheek, and the warmth of her body eased my aches—the small pains, the pricks and kinks—the inner echoes in my bones because loneliness makes me hollow.

  I learned to live with the pain long, long ago. I am not easy for a woman to love. Not with the frightening size, scars, and lumbering, physical or otherwise. But Ellie Jones kissed the bridge of my nose and none of the horrors my father baked into my body mattered. She kissed my lips and all my mistakes fell away.

  I needed to remember her. I needed her.

  Some memories filtered back into my mind. Ellie ran away when she realized Benta had stayed last night.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. Ellie curled around me without reservations or distaste for my skin. “I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again.” I kissed her chin and her jaw. “I swear. I am so sorry.”

  Ellie shook. A sob broke through and she pressed her face against my neck, but she held on.

  Spells, enchantments, magical gearwork, vampires—I should have remembered anyway. Deep down inside, I should have realized. “I’ll figure out what needs fixing. I promise.”

  She let go. Her arms came off my neck and she pushed on my shoulders until I set her down. “Then what?” She stepped back.

  “Ellie.” I reached for her again. Her touches, her sobs swirled around my head like a dream. We lacked a past and a future. All we had was this disconnected present moment.

  All I had was this thin faith that what I did not remember had been true and good. That all my subsurface emotions erupted because my soul knew what my mind did not.

  And now Ellie backed away.

  “We’ll make it work,” I said. A cliché, yes, but the truth.

  She shook her head. “What happens when magic moves my world again? After you figure out what needs fixing and poof I vanish forever anyway, Frank?” She held out her hand. “It will happen. My mother’s magic will realize I have connections here and it’ll move me. I’m going to vanish one day. I can’t do that to you. I can’t.”

  Her foot slid back. “I’m sorry I wrapped you up in my life.”

  “Ellie.” I reached for her again.

  All sense of possibility left her face. Every belief and hope. It all vanished into a mask that screamed I give up.

  Ellie Jones ran into the trees.

  “Ellie!” I yelled, but she vanished between two trunks and I couldn’t follow. I didn’t know where to go, or how to find her.

  I was alone at the tree line, my truck, her bicycle, and the road behind me, and the empty expanse of trunks, leaves, and undergrowth in front.

  Did I imagine her? No, her bike lay on the gravel. Where did she go? I rubbed my head. What kind of concealment enchantments did she suffer?

  All the hollowness, all the internal pulls and pinches of my patchwork body screamed. Pain resurfaced. Pain I’d learned to calm and control. Pain that reminded me that I was a singular creature alone in this world. A man without true family or a mate.

  I bellowed at the sky.

  What else could I do?

  Chapter 5

  Akeyla burst through the door when I pulled up. “Uncle Frank!” she yelled. “Did you get the groceries?” She jumped up and down next to my truck’s door. “Mommy texted you because we need oatmeal for cookies.”

  I did my best to smile. “I didn’t see it, honey.”

  She frowned. “Oh.”

  “We can make cookies some other time, okay?” I handed her the bag of apples.

  Her frown turned into a tight-lipped look of concern. “Why
are you sad, Uncle Frank?”

  I looked down at my little elven niece. She watched my face as if every single push and pull of my cheeks and jaw put on a puppet show just for her.

  Why could women read me so well?

  “It’s nothing, sweetie,” I said. “Take the bag into the house.” I nodded at the door just as Jax walked out.

  The kid stopped halfway to the truck and sniffed the air as if he smelled everything Akeyla saw in my expressions.

  Jax frowned also, but in more of a confused way. Then he jumped up onto the truck’s rear fender and leaned over the tailgate. “You found a bike,” he said.

  “You did?” Akeyla set the bag of apples on the ground and also jumped up onto the bumper. “It’s green!” she said.

  “Get down,” I said. “Both of you.” The bike wasn’t for them. Why, I couldn’t remember. I wanted to remember. I had to remember, but no matter how I concentrated, my mind suggested the bike was for them. Why else would I have it other than for the kids?

  No other explanation made sense.

  I slapped the side of the truck.

  Akeyla yipped. Jax jumped down. He watched me the entire time he helped Akeyla off the bumper. She pouted but picked up the apples and walked toward the door.

  Jax held out his hand for a bag. He didn’t say anything, just held out his arm, and waited.

  I handed him the meat. He took the bag, looked inside, then walked toward the house.

  Maura watched me from the threshold. Her natural magic jumped and flickered, and she crossed her arms.

  She moved aside for the kids. “Make sure what needs to go into the fridge gets in, please,” she said as Jax passed by.

  He nodded and made his way toward the kitchen.

  Maura walked out onto the driveway. “What’s up, Frank,” she said.

  I pulled the last bag out from behind the seats and handed it to Maura. “I need to carry Sal,” I said.

  My axe seemed as distressed by the roadside encounter as I was, partly because Sal was sure someone enchanted had interacted with me, and partly because that interaction had left me upset enough I’d refused to talk to her on the drive to the house.