Struck: (Phoebe Meadows Book 1) (5 page)

“It’s too late for
youuuu
,” one of the creatures growled. As a group, they lowered me down, tugging harshly on my arms and legs. They swung me twice, cackling, “
Goodbyeeee
.”

On the third swing, they tossed me straight into the swirling light.

I screamed as I plunged through it like I’d been thrown into the deep end of a pool. I free-fell into the void, my arms pinwheeling frantically. There was nothing to grasp on to. My stomach dropped to my knees, like a bag of concrete tossed directly on top of my lungs.

I couldn’t breathe.

Gaping like a fish, my body was tossed in circles. The pressure was too much. It was yanking me apart, and it felt like my brain was going to explode.

Just when I thought I couldn’t handle any more, things went blessedly black.

* * *

“Where is
she
? I told you not to fail me on this, Bragnon! That little human is doomed. She will not get by us. If the shieldmaiden Ingrid thinks she can outsmart me, she has much to learn. She will not be able to save the girl. None of them will. Not even Odin himself.”

“We have not failed you,
missssus.
” The familiar leathery voice jerked me out of my delirium. My head felt like it’d been split open and my gray matter was leaking out. I twitched my hand and felt dirt. “The girl
issss
here, but she is
clooooaked
. Have no fear, she will be found.”

I opened one eye.

A pair of old, scuffed shoes passed within an inch of my face. “She better be here. If she came through the other portal, we would’ve heard her by now. You go to the barracks. Tell them to be on high alert. I’m going to check the receiving room.”

The voices trailed out of the room.

I eased my aching head up, making as little noise as possible. I couldn’t see anything from my vantage point on the floor. It seemed I was wedged under some kind of bookcase. I craned my neck and peeked out. The first thing I saw was a low fire burning in a stone fireplace. It held a smoking black cauldron, which hung from an iron rod. The fire was crackling, and there was actual steam bubbling out of the pot.

If I hadn’t gone through such an ordeal, I would’ve thought I was on a movie set.

I examined the rest of the room as best I could. It was more like a cave than an actual room. The walls were earthen and dirty and contained a busy network of roots running in every direction, even the ceiling.

It was like we were encased in a tree.

I brought my arm up and touched the rough wood directly above my face. It was old and worn. I was lucky these shelves were big enough to cover most of me, even though that thing had told the woman I was cloaked.

“Insufferable white elves! Their magic should not surpass our own!” The angry voice stalked back into the room. “She could be anywhere by now. We must search the caverns. Put everyone on it. We must find her. My sisters will arrive soon. She will not get by Urd so easily.”

“Yes,
missssus
,” the creature hissed. How could a horrid thing like that take orders from anyone? The beast should only have to bare its teeth, and the old woman should be screaming in fear.

“Don’t fail me again, Bragnon.” Something flew through the air and struck the hard-packed wall, exploding into pieces. “I will not tolerate anything less than success. Do you understand me? The cloak stone will wear off in a few hours. I want her brought to me well before then!”

They both left the room again, presumably to scour the caverns. I quietly eased from my spot. My only hope was to find a way out of here. As I stood, my brain threatened to short-circuit for a second as my mind rehashed everything, from getting shocked, to the one-handed man, to finding a raven in my kitchen, to Ingrid dressed as a gladiator, to the horrible face gaping at me in the subway car, to being kidnapped and tossed here.

I reached out to steady myself.

I couldn’t allow my brain to rest on any one thing for too long, or I knew I’d find myself in a fit of ugly tears brought on by total disbelief, soon to be followed by rocking on the floor in a fetal position, unable to function.

That was not going to help me get out of this place.

If I’d made it here, I could find a way out.

I brought my other hand up to my forehead and remembered Gram. Forgetting everything, I dropped to my knees, frantically searching on the ground. It had to be here. Without protection in the form of a hide-cutting dagger, I knew I’d never have a chance to make it out of here alive. “Please, please, be here,” I whispered.

Growing up on a farm, before my family moved into town and bought the hardware store, I’d regularly handled tools such as hammers, axes, and crowbars. I’d used them my entire life. But the only knife I’d ever owned was a small, flimsy pocket knife given to me when I started 4H.

I couldn’t think about that right now.

With relief, my hand finally closed around the hilt, and I slid the dagger out. “Thank you,” I whispered to it, my fingers wrapped over the warm handle. I must not have been out for very long.

I stood.

Okay, now what?

I focused on what Ingrid had told me. I had to woman up. There was no other choice. I had to find a way out.

Think, Phoebe
.

Other than the old fireplace with the spooky, bubbling cauldron, and the rickety bookshelves I’d landed under, which I saw upon further inspection held millions of jars with specimens floating in them, the room was sparse.

The only other piece of furniture was a battered old wooden table that sat in the middle. It had a few stools shoved under it.

I turned in a full circle.

Toward the back, a massive expanse of a tree trunk half erupted out of the wall. It took up the entire corner.

In fact, this room looked to have been built purposefully around that exposed trunk. The bark went from the floor to the ceiling, indicating it kept going outside these walls.

The tree was oddly compelling.

I walked toward it with one hand extended before I knew what I was doing.

Once there, my fingertips brushed against the bark. A swirl of light formed instantly at the contact point as a spark of electricity raced up my arm, like a swarm of bees had jumped into my bloodstream.

I snatched my hand away and stumbled back.

The light dimmed before my eyes.

Before I could decide what to do, I heard a loud thumping. It sounded like it was coming from the tree. Something was clanking around inside. I searched for a place to hide and ran, ducking down by the end of the bookcase, right as a massive form tumbled out in a flash of bright, white light.

Right where I’d been standing only two seconds ago.

As it landed, rolling a few times, it shook the room like an earthquake.

I shrank back into the shadows as far as I could go, clutching Gram to my chest.

The thing on the floor was huge. As it rose, it shook its head a few times. The ride must have been rough. At full height, it had to duck down so it didn’t scrape its gigantic noggin on the exposed roots dangling from the ceiling.

When I noticed the tusk coming out of its forehead, it was all I could do not to whimper out loud. The thing had to be at least eight feet tall.

“Good, Junnal.” The same crisp voice entered the room, but stopped short of where I could see from my position crouched against the wall. “You came quickly. I am in need of your assistance. We have had a…
misfortune
of sorts. A certain prize of mine has slipped away. I will need the aid of your expert nose. I want you to sniff the creature out and bring her to me. She must smell human after all the time she’s spent on Midgard. You’re familiar with human scent, aren’t you, Junnal?”

“Yes…Verdandi.” Its voice was extremely low and filled the room like rumbling thunder, making my head ache.

“Good. Now come with me. We have reason to believe she has made it into the root network. The ettins are busy scouring the caves, but the little urchins have yet to unearth her. She is cloaked, but that shouldn’t be a problem for you. You are immune to white-elf magic, are you not?”

The thing nodded its boulder-sized skull.

As they moved to the door, I risked poking my head slightly around the bookcase. I wanted to get a glimpse of the woman, Verdandi. Her voice was harsh and formidable, and I was expecting a librarian or a schoolmarm. At first look, my hand flew up to my mouth to stifle any sound that wanted to erupt without my permission.

The woman was nothing more than a skeleton, gnarled and grizzled.

As she appraised the giant, or the troll, or whatever Junnal was, it took everything I had not to squeal out loud. Her eyes were two sunken orbs in her skull. Her skin was so worn it hung in loose folds, drooping around her face. Her pallor matched the grubby gray dress she wore, and her hair was a tangled mass of charcoal and white hanging limply around her shoulders.

She turned and left, the large beast lumbering after her, each footfall shaking the floor.

I slowly exhaled, but kept a hand cupped over my mouth just in case. I tasted bile in the back of my throat as I sank down to the dirt floor, bringing my knees up, bowing my head on my arms, still clutching Gram in my fist.

What was I supposed to do now?

I wasn’t sure why the giant hadn’t smelled me already, but I knew my luck would run out once they came back.

That’s when I heard the humming.

5

__________________________

____________

I
lifted my head off my knees. The humming wasn’t exactly a tangible sound, per se. It was more like a frequency. My blood began to beat at the same rate, like a song.

I stared at the tree.

Ingrid would never forgive me if I didn’t try my best to escape. I wouldn’t really forgive myself either. I’d be dead, but ultimately unforgiven. I stood up and brushed myself off, cocking my head at the tree as I took a step toward it.

As I drew closer, the thumping in my veins got louder. The humming was coming from
inside
the tree.

Once I was close enough, I brought my hand forward, just like I had before, lightly brushing my fingertips over the rough, aged bark. Shocks and tingles immediately raced up my fingers, electrifying my entire body.

I almost snatched my hand back, until I realized my body
liked
the sensation. It seemed to be absorbing it greedily, like nourishment. The tree was giving me something, and it felt wonderful. I exhaled as I moved closer, resting my forehead against the trunk, splaying my hands across it.

The humming merged effortlessly with my body, and they became one, with the same heartbeat.

This tree is
alive
.

As soon as the thought entered my mind, I realized this had to be the tree of life Ingrid had mentioned. I was bewildered. What had those creatures called it in the tunnel? Ig-dra…Ig-dras-something?

Nothing rang any bells.

I wasn’t up on ancient history or mythology. Ingrid had mentioned Odin. I knew he was a Norse god, but other than that, I had no idea what any of the particular mythology entailed. In rural Wisconsin, we learn about farming and animals. We didn’t have much need for detailed accounts of Norse gods—even though a good portion of our population was Scandinavian.

Oh, the irony!

I stepped back, hoping my touch this time had kindled some kind of swirling light. The light had to be a good thing. It’s what got me here, if I followed the logic of what the ettins had done. That had been a concrete wall in New York City, not a tree. But maybe the tree had been behind it, since it seemed I’d been spit here just like Junnal? It was hard to know anything for sure.

No light sparked this time.

Shouts came from outside the room.

I eyed the trunk with mounting panic. I leaned into it and whispered, “Okay, I need to get out of here right now.” What had the creature said to unlock it? I racked my brain, trying to remember the chant and what it’d been doing with its hands. In an effort to try to make something happen, I placed a hand on the bark, using my fingertips to trace some rectangular shapes while quietly chanting, “Please, please, open for me. I need to get home because…Ingrid’s waiting for me.”

That was the best I had.

Nothing.

Not even a glimmer of a spark.

The creature had given the portal its blood. That goopy, awful, yellow stuff. I’d been trying hard to forget. I still held on to Gram in one hand. I glanced down at the dagger. Without over-thinking it, I pressed the tip of the knife into a soft spot on my palm.

Bright red blood burst forth.

I blinked a few times at what I’d done.
You didn’t have a choice
, I reminded myself. Something had to be done, and this counted as something.

I dipped a single finger into the blood and brought it up to the tree. “I pay my debt willingly in blood,” I murmured as I pressed my bloody finger into the bark, which was deeply grooved. “Please open your doors for me and bring me home.”

There, before my shocked eyes, a small, bright light started to swirl in the bark. It was small, but it was there.