Protector (Night War Saga Book 1)

by Leia Stone

  On Monday, I sat in my Classical Mythology class, waiting for Professor Millan to arrive. The weekend with Mallory had taken my mind off of things, but I’d had to wear gloves to finish the reading and avoid any unwanted visions. And I’d left the text at home on purpose. After my movie-memory experience, I was officially terrified of that book. Because, reasons. I had, however, gotten into a groove with my necklace. My headache hadn’t come back, and now I resonated a warm energy that filled me with vitality. Whether it was the necklace or Mallory’s seaweed-coconut water, I felt healthier than I had in months . . . or ever. Things were definitely looking up. And with only two days before Thanksgiving break, I was ready for some rest and relaxation.

  There was a commotion at the front of the class, and I looked up to see Professor Millan walk to the podium, a broad-shouldered man by her side. Long blond hair fell in front of his face, but when he tucked it behind his ear, I nearly jumped out of my chair. It was him—the guy who’d attacked me. He wasn’t wearing a beanie now, and his hair was neatly combed, but there was no forgetting those eyes or that jaw line. I scanned him again and sure enough, no energy signature. Not possible.

  “Class, we have a wonderful treat today.” Professor Millan clapped her hands together. “A visiting professor from the University of Trondheim, in Norway, is here to give a special talk. I trust you will treat him with the same level of respect you show to me. Professor Vidarsson? The floor is yours.”

  Professor? Yeah, right. That guy couldn’t have been a day over twenty-three. Oh, God. My ‘assailant’ was a super-young, visiting professor from . . . was it the same place the guy in the shop had mentioned? Weird. He was probably all gung-ho about his job, like all the newbie teachers were, and he’d probably just been exploring campus on Friday night. Maybe he had been trying to save me from a raccoon or something. I mean, in the fluorescent light of the university lecture hall, he really didn’t look like a maniac. Way to blow your academic future, Allie. And also, to freak out some poor foreigner. Nice. Mortification poured through my energy centers. I shrank slowly in my seat, hoping he wouldn’t see me.

  “God etermiddag. I am Professor Tore Vidarsson, and it’s an honor to be here. Just a head’s up, today I won’t be writing on the board. My eyes are recovering from an injury.” Professor Vidarsson pinned me with a glare. The hard look contrasted with the light lilt of his accent. Oh crap. I was so totally failing this class. Stupid, trigger-happy Allie.

  Professor Millan took a seat in the front row, leaving the angry guy at the podium.

  “Get out your notebooks,” Professor Vidarsson continued. “Today I’m going to tell you the story of Nott, the Goddess of Night, and her plan to create a new Midgard.”

  ****

  It quickly became clear Tore Vidarsson wasn’t the forgive-and-forget type of guy. When he finished his lesson on the night goddess and her diabolical plan, he gave an oral quiz that he said would count for five percent of our overall grade. He went down the rows, calling out one question per student. Some were easy—anyone who saw the Thor movie knew the head of Asgard was named Odin, and that Thor’s weapon of choice was a butt-kicking hammer. Some of the questions were tougher—Professor Vidarsson asked a particularly annoying frat guy if he could spell the name of that hammer. Poor guy came out with something nowhere close to the correct, Mjölnir. But our visiting teacher took it fairly easy on the sorority girls who sat to my left, and by the time he asked Mallory to name two light realms, I was pretty confident I’d be able to handle any question he threw my way. I’d kept current on the reading, despite my recent setback.

  “Your turn.” Professor Vidarsson locked his intense gaze on me. The ferocity of his eyes was a stark contrast to his slight accent. “What did you say your name was?”

  I wrapped a massive ‘sorry I pepper sprayed you, pretty please don’t flunk me, m’kay?’ up in an energetic beam and shot it at the teacher, before answering. “I’m Allie Rydell.” Blue eyes stared intensely, not shifting as he processed that information.

  “Mmm. Allie Rydell.” Professor Vidarsson’s lips moved slowly around my name. “What was the last known destination of the weapon Nott stole from Asgard?”

  “A family farm in, uh . . .” I struggled to remember the name. “The town you said you’re from. Toadheim?”

  “Trondheim. And what is the mythological theory about why the weapon disappeared?” His too-intense stare never left my face. I opened my sixth energy center, the one right behind my eyes, to try to figure out why he looked at me like that. But I came up blank. I’d forgotten the guy had no signature. It was beyond weird. I’d never met a person I couldn’t read. It infuriated and intrigued me all at once. What are you hiding, Professor?

  “The weapon disappeared because . . .” I glanced down at my notebook. “Oh. Because a dark elf stole it and first hid it on, uh, Smart Elfheim?”

  “Svartalfheim. Correct. But the real reason it disappeared is?” Professor Vidarsson pressed. Why was he asking me so many questions? Everybody else only had to answer one. You pepper spray a professor one time, I swear . . . I paged frantically through my notebook.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know the real reason it disappeared.” He couldn’t flunk me for not knowing something he didn’t cover. I hoped.

  “I think you do know. Remember, Allie.” The professor’s eyes narrowed. I didn’t need to read his energy to see the frustration emanating from his face. Or the tension coming off the fists he clenched tightly against the podium. Was he seriously this upset about being pepper sprayed?

  “I really don’t.” My voice sounded steady, but my heart pounded against my ribcage. This guy was entirely too intense for a college class. Maybe universities in Norway were more . . . Socratic?

  “Fine. One last question for you, Allie.” He snapped his fingers, and I felt a weird vibration in the air around me. “Which of Asgard’s enemies scare you the most?”

  “Excuse me?” I blinked.

  “Which of Asgard’s enemies scare you the most? Specifically, which do you think will most affect your abilities to perform as an energetic manipulator?”

  My mouth fell open. Oh my God, did he just say that out loud? I looked at Mallory, but she was flipping through her textbook. Hadn’t she just heard Professor Traitor Face out me? The sorority girls to her left were busy doodling in their notebooks, and to my right, a studious-looking guy pulled out his text. Seriously, did nobody hear the accusations our teacher was throwing around?

  “Allie, answer the question. I need to know which races from the lecture will most affect your abilities, and why.” Professor Vidarsson leaned forward, still gripping the podium.

  “I do not manipulate anyone’s energy,” I challenged. I looked to Mallory for backup, but she kept reading. The girls next to her pulled out their textbooks too. In fact . . . my eyes swept the room. Now the entire class stared blankly at their books. What the hell?

  “Right.” Professor Vidarsson ran his fingers through his slightly unruly mane. For the first time, I noticed how huge his hands were. This guy was absolutely massive. And more than a little intimidating. “Are you going to answer my question?”

  I glared at him. “You are making me extremely uncomfortable. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Fine.” He snapped his fingers again, and the hum in the air quieted. The class collectively closed their books. “That’s all we’ve got time for today. Professor Millan can continue with the oral quiz next week, for those I didn’t get to.”

  “Absolutely.” Professor Millan clapped Professor Vidarsson on the back. “Class, let’s thank Professor Vidarsson for sharing his insights with us. I’m sure you all found his lecture quite illuminating.”

  The only thing I found illuminating was the weirdness of the boundary-free, signature-impaired teacher standing at the podium. I hurriedly stuffed my notebook into my bag. “Come on, Mallory, let’s get out of here. The visiting professor gives me the creeps.”

  “Prof
essor Sexy Hair?” Mallory slicked a coat of gloss over her lips. “I’m getting a different vibe about him. If I didn’t have a study date right now, I’d totally ask him out for coffee.”

  “Yeah, probably not the best idea.” Since ‘Professor Sexy Hair’ was giving me the stink eye, and in all likelihood, listening to our conversation, I didn’t bother to tell Mallory he was the creep-o who’d attacked me the other night. That conversation could wait until we were in the privacy of our living room. Instead, I jumped to my feet and nudged Mallory toward the door. “Have fun on your date. I’ll see you back at the dorm.”

  With that, I pushed my way past the students who stood between me and fresh air. I might not have gotten a read on our teacher, but it didn’t take a clairvoyant to know that guy was not sending rainbows of kindness to my fourth center. The walls around my heart felt thicker than ever, as if they were fortifying themselves against an onslaught they couldn’t see coming. Awesome.

  Did he really call me an energy manipulator? Why would he do that? Did he work for the government? Maybe there were more people like me. Oh my God! Maybe he was like me and he could somehow manipulate his own energy so that I couldn’t see it. Girl, you are so losing it. He was probably just a jerk who held a fierce grudge against those who pepper sprayed him. I ground my teeth and reminded myself he was only a visiting teacher. If you’re lucky, you’ll never see that grudge-holding weirdo again.

  When I broke through the crowd, I elbowed my way toward the door. Keeping my eyes focused on the ground, I barreled down the hallway of the humanities building. I didn’t take a full breath until I was safely outside. Finally. I leaned against the brick wall and took a long inhale of the crisp Washington air. It smelled like winter. And freedom. And . . . gingerbread?

  “Rough class?” A lightly accented voice jarred me from my relief. I turned my head to the right, where three big guys stood close together. Two had their hands in their pockets, while the third snapped the head off a gingerbread cookie in one fierce bite.

  “Yes.” My tone was guarded. I pulled my backpack over my shoulder and shoved my hand into the front pocket. My chest relaxed when my fingers touched my pepper spray. Jeez. On edge much, Allie? “Do I know you?”

  “Nope. I just recognize the I-just-sat-through-a-boring-lecture face and wanted to offer my condolences.” The deep voice belonged to a tall guy with an easy smile. Despite the chill, he wore a V-neck t-shirt that showed off the taut muscles of his cocoa-colored biceps. He obviously lifted weights more than I did. Also, yum.

  “Well, thanks for your condolences.” I released my hold on the pink can. The guy didn’t look menacing, and I didn’t need any more embarrassing pepper-induced incidents.

  “Any time.” Mr. Friendly took a step forward and held out his hand. “I’m Bodie. This is Mack.” He nodded at the guy currently demolishing the gingerbread cookie. Mack had a dark, unruly mane, and a thick beard that contrasted against his alabaster skin. If he’d been wearing a plaid shirt, I’d have sworn he was a lumberjack. Yum number two.

  “Hi.” I shook Bodie’s hand and smiled at his friends. “I’m Allie.”

  Mack put his palms together and bowed. “Namaste, Allie.”

  “Uh, right. Namaste.” I had not taken the lumberjack for a yogi, but as I reached out with my energy I sensed that beneath the tough exterior lived a very gentle soul. Book, cover, Allie. Stop judging.

  “Your necklace is lovely. And your eyes are a beautiful shade of blue—like the sea during a storm,” the Zen-master lumberjack offered serenely. He had the same light accent as his friend. From the slight lilt at the end of their sentences, I guessed they were from somewhere in the Midwest.

  “Thank you.” I touched the crystal at the base of my throat. “I just got the necklace in town. The eyes, well, I got those from my grandmother.”

  “Naturally,” Mack nodded.

  The third guy stuck out his hand. “I’m Johann.” A grin lit up his exotic features. His black hair was spiked around a lightly tanned face, and his energy bubbled playfully from warm, brown eyes. He seemed thrilled to be exactly where he was. His good mood was infectious.

  “Hey.” I smiled.

  “So, what was the boring class? Can’t have been worse than the poetry lecture I just sat through because Mack swore it would be ‘soul lifting.’” Johann made air quotes with his fingers. “The class is filled with girls Mack wants to date, more like it.” Johann’s almond eyes shone with barely contained laughter. Mack just shrugged.

  “I was in Mythology,” I offered. “It’s usually a really interesting class, but we had a visiting professor who was a major jerk.” A jerk without boundaries, and apparently, the ability to manipulate the energy of an entire classroom. I glanced at the door of the humanities building. The stream of exiting students had slowed to a trickle, and the crazy professor was not trickling among them. Thank the maker.

  “What was jerky about him?” Johann hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans.

  “He was just weird. I’m glad he was only visiting.” I shuddered. “So, where are you guys from?”

  “We’re exchange students from Norway,” Johann offered.

  Norway. That place had been coming up a lot lately. Maybe I was working through some Viking-induced karmic cycle. Yeah, right.

  “Norway, huh?” I glanced at the door again, hoping I wouldn’t see the other Norwegian I’d recently met.

  Bodie followed my sight line. “Hey, if that teacher made you uncomfortable, we can walk you to your next class. Make sure he doesn’t follow you.”

  “I’m done for the day, and really, it’s fine. He wouldn’t do that. I think I just rubbed him the wrong way or something.” You know, when I pepper sprayed his eyeballs.

  “Fair enough.” Johann nodded.

  My stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly. I chuckled. “Sorry. Guess it’s lunchtime for this girl.”

  “For us, too. If you don’t have plans, you’re welcome to join us. We’re making burgers at our place, then heading up the mountain to catch a few runs before Mack has to get back to campus for his Women’s Studies study group.” Bodie’s cough sounded an awful lot like a laugh. I opened my senses and did a quick scan of his energy. He was definitely a jokester, but like his friends, he read as kind and honest. His energy was blue with hints of vibrant green. As I finished my scan on Bodie, my necklace sent a fresh wave of energy through me, almost as if it approved of my new social circle. It seemed I’d stumbled into a good group of guys to be around.

  “You mocking Women’s Studies, Bodie?” Mack pressed his palms together again. The movement made his muscles pop menacingly beneath his thin sweater.

  Johann put a hand on Mack’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Bodie’s just jealous he’s not as enlightened as you.”

  Mack nodded in agreement. “Come with us, Allie. The snow’s killer. First powder of the year makes for epic boarding.”

  “I ski,” I corrected. “And I’d love to, but I’ve got a ton of homework. Maybe another time. Thanks.”

  “Homework comes every day. First powder of the season?” Bodie raised his eyebrows. “You really going to miss out on that?”

  “Well . . .” He had a point. Powder days were pretty amazing. And the university’s proximity to the local mountain, not to mention the discounted season pass offered to all Northern Washington U students, had been a major factor in my college choice. “What time are you guys going?”

  “Immediately after burgers.” Johann grinned. “You in?”

  “I’m in. Meet you at the hill in an hour,” I offered.

  “No burgers?” Bodie furrowed his brow. “I’m an extraordinary grill master.”

  I laughed. “Thanks, but I’m good. I’ll see you guys at the base of the Olympia chair?” There was no need to point out that smart girls didn’t go to strange boys’ houses on days a crazy professor had done weird energy juju on them. There wasn’t enough pepper spray in all the world to handle that.

  “See y
ou there, Allie.” Johann turned to Bodie. “Should we just leave without him?”

  Bodie furrowed his brow. “I guess.”

  “Were you guys waiting for somebody?” I asked.

  “Our other roommate was supposed to meet us here, but he’s AWOL. Whatever, less powder for him.” Johann waved and pulled his backpack over his shoulder. “See you on the mountain, Allie. I hope you don’t ski like a girl!”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Clearly, you’ve been skiing with the wrong girls.”

  Johann laughed. “I guess so.”

  Bodie gave a jaunty salute as he walked away, and Mack did his prayerful bow again.

  “See you.” I smiled. They seemed like pretty nice guys. It would be fun to have a group to ski with. Mallory didn’t do sports, and so far, I’d been so focused on not failing any classes I hadn’t had time to meet a lot of friends. Who knew? Maybe these guys would end up being my people. Worst case scenario, they made for some pretty good eye candy.

  CHAPTER THREE

  AFTER THREE HOURS IN the world’s most perfect powder, during which it was accepted I did not, in fact, ski like Johann’s version of a girl, I decided I was right—these guys were totally my people. And once again, my people insisted I go back to their house to eat. Since skiing always left me famished, I was open to considering their offer.

  “You didn’t want my burgers, but Mack’s on dinner duty. He’s been crock potting some stew all day. Come on,” Bodie urged.

  “I don’t know,” I hedged. “I have homework.” My Lit paper was done, but pages of unfinished Calculus homework cluttered my desk. Ugh.

  “Ja, but you need to eat, right?” Johann bent down to unbuckle his boot from his board. The motion freed the light layer of powder that dusted his dark hair. “Have dinner with us. Don’t hurt Mack’s feelings. He’s our delicate flower.”

  I arched one eyebrow. The six-plus-foot beefcake didn’t look at all delicate flowery to me.