“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, Mj?lnir. 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.”