Protector (Night War Saga #1)

“You’re crazy! This rainbow isn’t taking us to Asgard. Asgard is a made-up place that exists in textbooks and movies and—oh my God!” My fingers dug into Tore’s beanie as the rainbow sucked us into the sky. The cabin, the trees, and all of Skykomish shrunk to the size of a stamp as we shot through the air. My stomach lurched, threatening to paint Tore’s shirt with the remnants of Mack’s stew. By the time we hit our first cloud, I buried my face against Tore’s neck and commenced hyperventilation. Forget cleansing breaths and grounding, my energy was officially out of my control.

As was, apparently, my life.

A terrifying eternity passed before I felt a jolt. The wind seemed to have stopped, and I no longer felt Tore’s hair slapping against my cheeks. Logic suggested we’d landed wherever magic rainbows land, so I slowly opened one eye and took in the snowy field ringed with silvery pine trees.

“Where the hell are we?” I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Even though it had been night back in Washington, the morning sun had just risen here. My world was majorly upside down.

“We’re in Asgard.” Tore marched forward, holding me tight in his arms.

“Right. Where are we really? Is this like what you did in class, where you hypnotized everybody into reading their books while you humiliated me?” I glared at him.

“I’m your protector, and I did what I had to do to get your attention. And I didn’t hypnotize anyone. I just gave them a different focus.” Tore kept his eyes straight ahead as he carried me across the snowy field. “Heimdall, our gatekeeper, sent the Bifrost and brought us home.”

“This isn’t my home,” I objected. “And you can put me down. I know how to walk.”

“I’ll put you down when we get inside.” Tore reached the edge of the field and moved through a thick grove of trees.

“Inside where?” While Tore marched on in silence, I bit the inside of my cheek to make sure this wasn’t a dream. If I didn’t wake up from the nightmare that was my day right this minute, I might lose it all over him. Again.

“Inside there.” Tore jutted his chin.

I looked to the right, where a small cottage sat nestled against a snowy hillside. Warm light glowed from behind cheerful windows, and a white picket fence lined what I assumed was the edge of the property. The early morning sun cast a beautiful orange glow onto the thatched roof and bright blue shutters of the cottage. As I stared, something stirred in my memory.

“Whose house is that?” I asked. It felt oddly familiar—like someplace I’d been before. Tore finally put me down, and I swayed on my feet. My feelings had begun to overwhelm me.

“You’re intuitive. You tell me.” Tore stood impassively at my side.

“Is that . . .” My necklace vibrated against my throat. No freaking way. I sucked in a breath as a wall of memories slammed into me. Kind eyes and gentle arms rocking me to sleep. An angelic voice singing a lullaby. Bubbles in a tub that tickled tiny toes. And love . . . so much love.

“No,” I whispered. “That’s not possible.”

To his credit, Tore stayed silent. For once.

“Is this my mom’s house? Is this where she raised me before she died?” I blurted. Something had opened up inside my head, revealing memories I never knew I’d forgotten. One second they were gone, and now . . .

“Your mom’s not dead,” Tore corrected me. “Your grandmother told you that so nobody would figure out who you were. She’s only sleeping, remember? And you have the power to wake her. If you just god up, already.”

The next time he said god up, I was punching him in the throat. I blinked up at Tore, the frosty air chilling the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes. Stupid tears.

“Please don’t do that.” Tore shifted uncomfortably.

“Do what?” I feigned nonchalance.

Tore used his thumb to wipe the traitorous liquid from the corner of my eye. “That. Your mom’s not gone. And you have the ability to bring her back. That’s what I’m trying to show you.” He lifted my chin with one finger. “You can see for yourself, if you want.”

“How? She’s in a sleeping curse, right?” I was trying super hard not to love the feel of his fingers on my face. Why was he being nice to me all of a sudden?

“Yeah. She is.” Tore nodded at the cottage. “But after the healers stabilized her, your grandmother asked that she be returned to where she was most comfortable. Said it would increase the potency of her healing abilities when the time came.”

“Do you mean . . .” I sucked in a breath.

“Your mom’s in that house.” Tore pulled a key from his pocket. “Want to go inside?”

****

I sat in the chair beside my mother’s bed, just staring out the window. I was processing, thinking. My mom had “died” right around my first birthday, which meant I hadn’t been inside this house in over seventeen years. And yet, its energy sparked memories I’d long forgotten. The woman in this bed was my mother—my mother. She looked exactly like me, only twenty years older. Her long hair spilled over the pillow in a cascade of golden silk. Her nose was slightly upturned, and her full lips were relaxed in an almost-smile, as if sleep brought her peace. I hoped that it did, because even though the evidence of my Night-Sleeping mom pretty conclusively proved that Tore and the boys weren’t lying about my demigod-ness, I wasn’t sure that I could do what they said. They expected me to wake her from a sleep that not even the most skilled gods had managed to hack, to travel across the realms and retrieve broken pieces of a weapon, to kill a goddess. Kill a goddess! That wasn’t me. Sure, I could see energy, so maybe I could be taught to heal like my mom. And yes, I had been known to have a teensy temper, and a trigger-happy pepper spray finger, but that didn’t make me a goddess killer/savior of my home planet. Did it?

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