Protector (Night War Saga #1)

Protector (Night War Saga #1)

Leia Stone & S.T. Bende



DEDICATION


For everyone who fights to protect Midgard—you are our heroes.





CHAPTER ONE


“AND THAT IS WHY it’s never a good idea to upset a frost giant.” Professor Millan set down her notes and peered at us from behind thin-framed spectacles. “All right, class, that’s it for today. Read through the sections on Svartalfheim and Muspelheim in your text, and next week, we’ll finish our unit on the dark realms of Norse folklore.”

I slammed my Classical Mythology text shut and jumped to my feet, eager to be done for the day. It was Friday, which meant instead of hitting the library like we usually did after school, my roommate Mallory and I had an intense afternoon of party prep ahead. Northern Washington University was known more for its liberal arts program than its party scene, but Mallory was from Bel Air, and she’d carved out a reputation as social queen. Her friend was hosting a party at his off-campus apartment tonight, and Mallory insisted it was not to be missed.

“Come on, Allie. You and I are going shopping,” Mallory declared. She shoved her books into her backpack and led the way through the aisle of desks. “I saw this red A-line mini on Main that would be to die for with your legs. I’ll show you.”

As I made my way through the throng of jostling students, I held my breath and imagined I was inside of a thick bubble. I was super sensitive to energy, and my classmates’ pre-weekend cocktail of elation and anxiety hit me hard. The trio of sorority girls to my right gave off pulses of anticipation as they whispered about the evening’s parties, while a quiet guy to my left sent out desolate vibes. A guy by the door beamed a euphoric white light, and someone behind me vibrated orange—probably from too much coffee. I’d been able to see other people’s energy signatures for as long as I could remember, and I’d never understood why, or what I was supposed to do with the overload of information that came at me twenty-four hours a day. Over the years, I’d developed some tools to keep my sanity. But I was only a few months into my freshman year at NWU, and figuring out how to deflect so many signatures at once made for a steep learning curve. I’d spent the bulk of my first few weeks on campus completely and totally wiped out.

Kind of like I felt right now.

With a breath, I went deep inside my mind. I closed down the seven energy centers that ran from my head to my tailbone, creating a barrier between myself and the world. Then I followed Mallory out of the classroom. Once outside, I took a few steps away from the mass of students to pull myself together. My head swam as I gently evicted the unwanted buzzing from my space.

“You okay?” Mallory’s perfect espresso eyebrows pinched as she looked at me with concern. I had a terrible poker face, so it didn’t surprise me that I’d failed to hide my discomfort. I shoved my hand into my backpack and pulled out a bar of dark chocolate. The stuff grounded my frazzled energy; that was why I ate so much of it. Or so I told myself.

“Sorry, I forgot to eat.” I popped a chunk into my mouth, then held the bar out to my roommate. “Want some?”

“No, thanks.” The worry on Mallory’s face turned up a notch. “Should we stop and pick up lunch before we go shopping? You really don’t look that well.”

It was two in the afternoon; I’d just wait and have an early dinner. I shook my head and followed Mallory out to the parking lot, crossing my fingers that she’d let it drop. My extra ability wasn’t something I talked about. My grandmother had sworn me to secrecy about my gift when she took me in after my mom died. According to Gran, the world wasn’t safe for people like me. And since a sojourn in a padded cell wasn’t my dream vacay, I stuck to my word. I’d always figured at some point, I’d find a purpose for my odd skill set; maybe figure out how to use it to help people. But so far, that point hadn’t come. Maybe someday.

“Allie?” Mallory pressed. “Are you sure you don’t want food?”

“I’m good,” I assured my still-frowning roommate. “Come on, we have shopping to do.”

That made Mallory smile. “You know it,” she agreed. She unlocked her car with a cheery hair toss. I slid into the passenger’s seat of the black Mercedes and stared out the window as the tiny town of Skykomish passed by. The city didn’t have much besides our school and a ten-lift ski resort that brought in some tourist traffic, but it did have a few shops on Main that were run by longtime—some fourth or fifth generation—locals. It was a sweet little town, and I looked forward to calling it home for the next four years.

“How was the rest of your day?” Mallory asked as she drove. “Did your Environmental Studies professor give you a lot of weekend homework?”

“Not really. She wanted us to write a paper about the earthquakes in Mexico last month—I guess that fault line wasn’t expected to have a seismic shift for years. Crazy, huh?”

“As crazy as the dormant volcanoes erupting this week in Hawaii.” Mallory frowned.

“Exactly. This morning’s lecture was on the increase in non-predicted natural disasters. There’s been a surge over the past few years.” I glanced out the window at the wall of redwoods bordering the road into town. I hoped whatever was happening to geo-plates and volcanoes wasn’t going to happen in the Pacific Northwest. I liked our trees.

“Yeah, it’s a whole lot of weird lately.” Mallory slid easily into an empty parking space on Main and turned off the engine. She pulled her credit card out of her purse and waved it in my face. “Come on, Allie. Let’s do some damage.”

Laughter bubbled from my throat as I stepped out of the car and slung my backpack over my shoulder. Mallory was a trust fund baby, and she spent her dad’s money like it would never end. I, on the other hand, had been admitted to NWU with a full-ride scholarship. And since Gran had recently passed away, I needed every cent of that money to get me through four years of college. Trust fund baby, I was not. And I was totally okay with that.

Mallory shook her head as I dropped down to retie my Converse. “Please let me buy you some proper shoes.” Her perfectly upturned nose wiggled, but it only served to make me laugh. Her energy was pink, and her heart was in the right place. She was a good egg.

“Proper, as in four-inch heels that will lead to my death?” I extracted my long, light-blonde mane from the hair-eating backpack strap gnawing at my shoulder. Down, boy.

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