by Amy Pennza
12
Tap, tap, tap.
I jerked awake with a gasp. My breath fogged in front of my face. Straight ahead, the Eiffel Tower blazed gold against a black sky. Beneath it, the sprawl of buildings and roads were dark and quiet. Paris was asleep. I had been, too—until now. I pushed myself to my feet. An ache shot through my lower back.
Yeah, sitting in that metal chair had been stupid.
Tap, tap, tap.
I whirled, my heart racing.
Asher stood inside the apartment, my staff in his hand. His green eyes twinkled, and he spoke through the glass. “You called?”
I scrambled around the chair. He slid the glass to the side and opened his arms.
I flew into them, savoring his scent of earth and leaves. “How did you know where to find me?”
His chuckle rumbled against my cheek. “You didn’t make it easy. Luckily, the doors at Bjørneskalle had an idea where you’d gone. They’re unrepentant eavesdroppers, you know. Where’d you get this staff? It’s a beauty.”
I pulled back. “Hauk gave it to me.”
The twinkle in his eyes grew brighter. “Ahh. The same Hauk snoring in the other room? What mischief have you been up to, Elin?”
Can’t lie to him. Asher couldn’t read minds, but he was a master at reading people—especially when sex was involved.
My face must have revealed more than I intended, because he made a sympathetic sound. “Come on.” He slid an arm around my shoulders. “Come inside and tell me everything.”
I darted a look toward Hauk’s bedroom as we stepped over the threshold. “What if he wakes up?”
Asher’s face was smug. “I’m not without tricks, niece of mine.”
We settled on the sofa. He lay the staff across his knees and ran a reverent hand over the wood. “Where did you say Hauk found this?”
“I didn’t.” I pushed my hair over my shoulders. “I mean, he didn’t. He just plucked it off the wall in his study.”
“Hmmm.” Asher continued petting the staff, stroking it like someone might caress their cat. “It’s very attached to you.”
“That’s good to know, since it tried to murder someone. Twice.”
“Oh? Was it defending you?”
“Maybe. The first time wasn’t that big of a deal, but the second was . . . weird.” I told him how the staff had repelled Maja in Professor McBride’s class, along with my suspicions that it was responsible for the nettles attacking her. “Hauk seemed freaked out about it. But maybe that’s because he heard me talk to the nettles.”
Asher brought his head up. “You have that ability?”
“Is that a big deal?” Apprehension curled in my gut. He was looking at me like I’d grown an extra head.
“Have you done it before?”
“Not that I know of.”
His eyes grew distant, like he was recalling a memory. “It’s an unusual ability, to be sure,” he murmured. “My grandfather had it. In the old days, he could command the trees to uproot and do battle.”
“Like a Lord of the Rings thing?”
Asher tossed me a quick grin, then set the staff on the coffee table. “Something like that. It was a long time ago.”
I didn’t ask how long. He wouldn’t tell me anyway. Like most old Fae, he didn’t often discuss the past. Fiona claimed the weight of time was too heavy a burden for the old ones. Fae who didn’t reinvent themselves tended to lose their grip on reality. In the worst cases, they went insane, and the Rage Lords sent a berserker to stop them before they hurt anyone.
I wasn’t sure how old Asher was, but my guess was very, very old. Not that anyone would know it by looking at him. With his Converse, distressed jeans, and cashmere sweater, he looked more like an art professor than an ancient satyr.
“How do I use this power?” I asked. “Can I control it?” What if it was like my rage? If the incident with Maja was any indication, this was just another “ability” I couldn’t harness or direct.
Asher didn’t seem concerned. “It’s like anything else. You have to practice.” He gestured to the staff. “I’m not so sure our hickory friend here has anything to do with this particular power, but it might have influenced your actions. You have to remember that trees have their own minds, even if they don’t work like ours. If the staff thought you were in serious danger, it could have given you a push to use lethal force.”
My throat went dry. “If I’d killed Maja, the Rage Lords would have executed me. Doesn’t the staff know that?”
“Like I said, trees don’t think that way.” He spread his hands. “Power is power. Like a hurricane or a tornado. Those things are neither good nor evil. They just are. Wild energy can be beautiful . . . and deadly.” He gave me a look that was both loving and slightly censuring. “You’ve neglected your dryad heritage too long. I’ve warned you before not to underestimate trees.”
I stayed silent. I couldn’t exactly argue with him, especially when he was right.
“It’s also worth pointing out that this is one of several reasons why most Fae warriors prefer metal weapons over wood.”
I studied the staff. “I think I might agree with them.”
“Keep an open mind. But for now, it’s probably best to avoid holding the staff if you plan on chatting with any plants.”
“That won’t be a problem,” I murmured. Because I had bigger problems right now. Like defeating Radegast and figuring out what the hell I was going to say to Hauk after our little shower moment.
Asher punched a throw pillow a few times, then leaned against it. “So. You told Harald off, and now you’re on a quest to help Hauk get his immortality.”
“Yes.” I couldn’t tell him about my mother. She’d been his only sibling, and no brother and sister had ever been closer. But he was also wary of strange magic. For all his modern ways, Asher was old-fashioned when it came to the manipulation of magic. I knew without asking that he wouldn’t approve. I cleared my throat. “Yes, that’s what I’m doing.”
“But you have feelings for him.”
“What?” I put on my best “you’re being ridiculous” face. “He’s the headmaster of Bjørneskalle. I’m a student. Besides, this quest is a partnership. We’re professional with each other.”
Asher didn’t look impressed. “Former student. And you’re a horrible liar, Elin.” He waved a finger between the balcony and Hauk’s room. “What’s this with him in the bedroom and you sleeping on the freezing balcony? That’s a high-grade lovers’ quarrel right there.”
“We’re not lovers,” I huffed.
“No,” he said, his tone bemused. “Not yet. But you want each other.”
I opened my mouth to protest.
He folded his arms, the look in his eyes letting me know he wasn’t buying any of my bullshit.
I shut my mouth, my cheeks blazing. He might be my Lothario uncle, but “have a frank discussion about sex with a family member” wasn’t on my bucket list.
He went on. “As I was saying. You like him. He likes you. You’re both being dumb and trying to fight it. I’m no sword person, but it seems to me that a distraction like that could get a person killed.”
“It’s swordsman. And what are you suggesting? That I should just sleep with him?” There was no point keeping up the pretense that all was innocent between Hauk and me.
Asher shrugged. “You’ve got an itch. So scratch it.”
“That is absolutely the worst phrasing you could have used in this context.”
“I’m just saying you shouldn’t deny what’s in front of you.” He flicked his gaze toward the bedroom door. “Or in the other room.”
Yeah, except Hauk was going to hate me once he found out I’d lied. And how could I ever be certain he wasn’t influenced by whatever nymph powers I possessed? “It’s like you were built to tempt men.” He’d said that. Did he still believe it?
Asher leaned forward. “We live a long time, Elin. But no one is guaranteed anything.” His gaze softened, and I wondered if he was thinking o
f my mother. “You worry about how others perceive you. It’s not easy being a half-breed, especially when you’re not entirely thrilled with one of your halves.”
“I never said—”
He held up a hand. “It’s understandable. But nymphs and satyrs aren’t without power. Whether we’re dryad or naiad, oread or meliad, our magic comes directly from the earth itself. It’s raw, wild energy—the kind that makes blood and passion pump through your veins. Maybe you should try embracing it.” He reached over and laid his hand on the staff.
And lowered his glamour just a little.
His skin grew darker, his hair a riot of unruly curls around his head. The rich, dark mass was threaded with leaves. His green eyes glowed, and the angles of his face became sharper. His ears tapered up to delicate points, and something that looked like moss covered part of his neck. The swirling blue tattoos were the same, but now they appeared to move, the patterns slowly shifting and rearranging themselves.
My Uncle Asher was still there, but now he was something more. Something beautiful and wild and maybe a little dangerous. The Green Man ancient humans had carved into trees and rocks.
Out of nowhere, a rush of warm air swept the room. For a moment, it was like the sun shone from above, splashing cheerful yellow light over everything. Birds sang, their notes high and pure. The smell of honeysuckle and pine filled my lungs.
I wanted to tip my head back and let the sun warm my skin. I wanted to sprint through the forest, leaves crunching under my bare feet. I wanted to trail my fingers over the tops of flowers as I waded through tall grass. I wanted to . . .
I wanted to feel.
He lifted his hand from the staff.
The sun and wind disappeared.
His glamour snapped back into place.
An ache rose in my heart. How long had it been since I felt anything?
“Bend without breaking, Elin,” he said, repeating his words from our meeting at Bjørneskalle. “But first you have to bend.”
13
“Are you sure you want to take that?”
I turned at the sound of Hauk’s voice. He pointed to the staff, which I’d tucked through a loop on the side of the backpack he’d given me.
“Yes.”
He grunted.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He propped his foot on the edge of the coffee table and did up the laces on his hiking boot.
I held back a sigh. Apparently, he was determined to pretend last night hadn’t happened. After Asher left, I’d gotten a few hours of fitful sleep on the sofa, my mind whirling with worries of Hauk, my unpredictable powers, and the upcoming quest. Around dawn, Hauk had emerged from his bedroom and set about making pancakes.
“You should grab a shower while you can,” he’d said, his back to me while he poured batter onto a griddle. “I want to set out for Radegast’s territory as soon as possible.”
Breakfast would have been a perfect opportunity to clear the air. Instead, he’d placed a heaping stack of pancakes in front of me, then started telling me what to expect once we reached the Ural Mountain region where Radegast made his home.
So we hadn’t talked about it, and it was obvious he didn’t want to. Asher’s warning about the attraction between us being a dangerous distraction was foremost in my mind.
But how was I supposed to bring it up when Hauk was seemingly dead set on shoving it under the rug?
Worse, what if he regretted it?
I looked at him now. “You don’t think I should bring the staff?”
He tucked the ends of his laces in the top of his boot and lowered his foot. “I didn’t say that.”
I waited for him to elaborate. When he just moved to the next boot, I gritted my teeth. “Do you think the staff is dangerous? Is that it?”
“Unpredictable,” he said without looking up.
Yeah, well, so was I. Maybe that’s why it liked me so much. I chewed my bottom lip as Hauk worked over his boot. I couldn’t share what Asher had said about the staff. Something told me Hauk wouldn’t like knowing I’d invited a Fae into his apartment without his knowledge.
“It followed me here,” I said. “I don’t think I could leave it behind if I wanted to. It might just keep showing up.”
He straightened. “It might do,” he said, his accent thick. “We’re heading into an area filled with strong magic. That kind of power can have an unforeseen effect on magical objects. I’ve worked with a sword my whole life. I haven’t handled much wood.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, the ten-year-old boy in me roaring to the surface.
“But,” he said, his gaze going to my pack, “I see your point. For good or ill, the staff has bonded with you, probably because it senses your dryad side. We’ll just have to hope it behaves itself.”
Asher’s little show with his glamour and the phantom sun must have teased out my dryad side a little more, because Hauk’s words made a rush of protectiveness wash over me. I went to my pack and picked it up, then swung it over my shoulders. The staff fell into place alongside my thigh.
“Actually,” I said, “I think it balances the weight of all this gear.” He’d left a pile of extreme weather clothing outside the bathroom door as I’d showered—long underwear, fur-lined boots, waterproof pants, and a thick jacket.
Hauk snapped his fingers. “Ah, shit, I forgot something.” Muttering, he went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the drying rack next to the sink.
I made my voice light. “You forgot to put away the dishes?”
“No.” He glanced up as he filled the glass with water. “I forgot your oath. If you want this quest to count, you need to make a vow to Odin.”
Oh, right. I eyed the water as it bubbled to the top of the glass. “Don’t I have to mix it with my blood?”
“Just a drop or two.”
I swallowed, my stomach doing a queasy flip. “Does it have to be water?”
He shut off the tap. “No. Why?”
“I just . . . Don’t you have anything that could, I don’t know, hide the blood or something?”
He gave me a look like I’d just lost my mind. “It’s a couple drops of blood, Elin.”
“I know.” Great. Now he’d think I was too much of a wimp to take my oath. “Never mind.”
He dumped the water in the sink, then turned to the fridge and opened the door.
“Hauk, I said never mind.”
He withdrew a container of orange juice and shut the door. “Too late.” He unscrewed the cap and poured a healthy serving in the glass. Then he opened a drawer, rummaged around, and slipped something in his pocket.
For some reason, my throat burned. “I wish you’d just let me drink the water.”
He must have heard the tears in my voice, because he rushed over, juice in hand. He set it on the coffee table and put his hands on my arms. “Hey. It’s all right, Elin. You can drink whatever you want. I once took an oath with a strawberry smoothie and a sleeve of Girl Scout cookies.”
I let out a watery laugh. “Really?”
“Thin mints.”
“I love those.”
His eyes twinkled. “I’ll buy you some when we get back. Okay?”
I nodded. Why did he have to be so kind? So wonderful?
He smiled. “Okay. Now, do you want to draw your blood, or do you want me to do it?”
“You.”
His expression turned solemn. “Give me your hand.”
It took me two tries to get my glove off. I shot him an apologetic look. “Sorry. These are tight.”
“No worries,” he murmured.
Free of the glove, I placed my palm in his larger one. Although I knew it was just my imagination, my hand seemed paler than usual, as if all the blood had fled to safer parts of my body.
He closed his fingers over mine and gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Close your eyes if you want.”
I thought that over. “I think I’ll keep them open, but just look off to the side or something.”
I jerked my gaze toward the TV. My heart sped up, and the top of my head grew hot.
“Steady,” he said, his voice quiet but encouraging. He gave my hand another squeeze, then pulled my fingers straight and taut.
A bubble of anxiety rushed up my throat. “Hauk, I don’t think—”
A tiny lick of fire shot across the base of my index finger.
I sucked in a sharp breath and looked down. A line of blood welled from a shallow cut just above the spot where my finger joined my hand.
“You did it,” Hauk said, pride in his voice.
“I . . . did.” Relief washed over me.
Hauk tugged my hand toward the waiting glass. “Quickly, before it clots.”
Gross. I ignored the revulsion that swept me as he turned my palm and held my finger over the glass. One, two, three drops of bright red blood hit the surface, then sank into the juice.
I looked at him. “Now what?”
“Now you say the oath and drink.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” He handed me the glass.
I took it and stared down at the orange surface. There was no sign of my blood. “I thought it would be more . . . involved that that.”
He shrugged. “Simple is better, I guess. Less stuff to think about. Do you remember the oath?”
“Yes.” Harald had drilled it into me from the moment I could speak. I took a deep breath and spoke the ritual words. “Odin the All-Father, lord of wisdom and death, I undertake this quest in your name. May your hand guide me as I seek to bring justice to one who deserves it.” I tipped the glass back and drank.
“The whole thing,” Hauk murmured.
Still drinking, I gave him a look over the rim. Why did he have to fill the whole damn glass? I didn’t necessarily mind orange juice, but he’d given me half the container.
As I breathed through my nose so I could keep chugging, Hauk gave an approving growl and said, “Skol.”
Juice leaked from the corners of my lips, but I finished every drop. I lowered the glass, breathless.
Hauk grinned. “Welcome to the guild, berserker.”
