Freya's Founding: Book 2 of the Winging It Series Page 3

  Hesitantly, I mentally reached into myself for this other and pictured my hand scooping it up and holding it. It didn’t hurt or sting me as I held it and rotated it for a better view. And though this sensation defied any description using sight or sound, I tried to categorize it using words I knew. It was… fluid… but held together like a solid. I couldn’t see a color, but the feeling of it was green. The green of a breeze before a summer rain. And when it first erupted in me, it was fiery hot, but that heat was now fading into a slow burn. It pulsed like a heartbeat, and in my mental image, its edges curled around my fingers almost like an embrace. Yes, it was other, but as I explored it more, it wasn’t as foreign and intrusive as the IV. In fact, the new sensation reminded me of something, something right at the edge of my brain…

  I stood, eyes still closed, trying to hold the feeling tighter to examine it in closer detail. Hearing the roar of the ocean in front and below me, I turned and stepped away from the cliff. And then beamed my head soundly on a low-hanging tree branch. My eyes bolted open, I cussed loudly, and rubbed my sore head. A crow above me cawed shrilly in annoyance at his tree being knocked, then exploded with a flap of wings from his perch. But instead of heading toward the sky, it launched itself in my direction. Black feathers and sharp claws filled my view and its screeching pierced my ears. Instinctively, I held up my arms to protect my face and took a step back. And stepped into empty air.

  There’s a big difference between leaping forward, fully prepared, off a cliff and accidentally tripping backward off one. The first method can be graceful and elegant. The second way mostly involves arm flailing and maybe a screech or two. I bumped an elbow on a rock protruding from the cliff, which caused my body to twist midair. A branch from a scrawny tree clinging improbably to the sides tore at my wings. My brain screamed helpful tidbits such as a bunch of curse words in both Swedish and English.

  It was embarrassingly long until I realized there was an easy fix to the situation. I spread my wings and felt the immediate scoop of air slow my fall. The air pressure beneath my wings increased as I contracted my back and ab muscles, pushing down in a powerful stroke. I was still falling, but there was now a forward thrust. Pushing down again, the air rushed against my wings, providing a lift. I streamlined my body like a swimmer and glided through the cool air. The cuts covering my wings stung as the air rippled over them, but the overwhelming elation of breaking free from land made the pain insignificant. I swooped close enough to the ocean to feel the frigid spray from the waves breaking against the boulders below. Problems forgotten, I laughed and dangled my toes to slide them across the water surface. I was Alva and life was glorious.

  After an hour of pretending to be a sea bird, I headed up the cliff and back to my car, sweaty from the flying. No vindictive birds attacked my face, but I kept watch just in case. In the plummet off the cliff and during flying, I had completely forgotten the sense of otherness that had startled me so badly, but now, back on land, my worries started again. I did a check for the sensation of foreignness. Maybe there was something? I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination or there really was a remnant of it still in me. I tried to shake it off, but like the thought of the IV while in the hospital, it feathered the edge of my consciousness for most of the drive back to town.

  Almost as soon as cell coverage picked back up, an annoyingly cheery electronic tune broke my train of thought, bringing me back to the present. I looked down at the screen. It was David. I hit speaker since I was still driving.

  “Any word from the Elders?”

  “Not so far. Any progress on your side?” I asked in return.

  “I talked with the Alphas, Amir and Julia, about an hour ago. I’ll spare you the gory details right now, but let’s say they weren’t happy. On the other hand, they promised they wouldn’t do anything rash until after they met with us on Saturday morning.”

  I chuckled darkly. “And after Saturday morning?”

  “Let’s hope we can convince them you aren’t threatening to the werewolves. If that doesn’t work, I’ll allow Alrik and the rest of the Alva to intimidate them. That will probably be enough for them to promise to leave us alone. If not, our pack will defend ourselves as we need to.”

  “Here’s to hoping that doesn’t have to happen.” My phone beeped at me, telling me I had another incoming call—this time from Sweden. I was really going to have to look at a new calling plan; these international phone calls were probably pushing my phone bill through the roof. A private school teacher doesn’t exactly bring in stacks of Benjamins.

  “I think I have a call from the Elders,” I said to David. “I’ll call you later.”

  Sure enough, rapid-fire Swedish orders greeted me as soon as I answered. I pulled over to the side of the road so I could grab my notebook and write a list of their instructions:

  1. The meeting with the Denver werewolves would happen Saturday at nine in the morning at City Park. Only the Alphas and one other werewolf would be allowed to meet with us. I was to allow Alrik to do the talking.

  2. I was to report back to the Elders as soon as the meeting was over.

  3. I was to remove myself from the werewolf world completely ASAP

  4. If there were further problems, I was to come to Sweden and leave the werewolf pack

  At this point in the one-sided conversation, I was pressing down so hard with my pencil that the lead broke. Through gritted teeth, I tried to convince the Elders that the situation was more complicated than they would like to acknowledge. Like it or not, there were people who needed me, as Alpha, to stabilize the pack. I didn’t pretend to understand the intricacies, but werewolves need two Alphas present and participating in their lives or else they go a little crazy. And nobody wants a crazy werewolf around.

  There was silence and transatlantic disapproval on the line for a few seconds. Then the Elder continued as if I hadn’t said anything, repeating that I should call back as soon as possible after the meeting. And then he hung up on me.

  I glared at the phone. I really, really wanted to hurl the phone out the window in frustration and drive over it a few times, but that action wasn’t in my budget, either.

  Being a part of a powerful supernatural tribe was usually a good thing. Respect was expected from other tribes, so I could travel to almost any part of world and be welcomed. There was a price, however, for being associated with the Alva, and that price was following the Flock rules.

  My mother, too, had clashed with the Elders when she was young. In fact, she was one of the first Alva to emigrate away from Sweden in order to join in the creation of the Union of Supernaturals, an organization promoting international cooperation between various supernatural groups. But over the years, she had proven herself responsible and helpful to the Flock, and the Elders now grudgingly respected her decision to leave. I guess it was my turn to have a run-in.

  I started up the car—I’d had enough of sitting and worrying about other people’s expectations for me. Throwing my phone out the window and watching it smash in a thousand pieces may not be in my budget, but ice cream was, and there was a fabulous little parlor in SLO.

  Mint chocolate chip ice cream can cure almost any problem, I thought, not suspecting for a moment that it would be the starting domino that would lead me into a new set of trouble.

  After ordering a double scoop of mint chocolate chip on a waffle cone, I was feeling much better. Life was good. The strong San Luis Obispo sunshine shined down, warming me to the very core. How was it that all my ancestors lived in the cold, dark land of Scandinavia? I was such a sunshine girl. Never, never would I allow myself to be dragged back and live with my parents in Chicago or—heaven forbid—be forced all the way back to Sweden.

  A neighbor of David’s passed by, and although we hardly knew each other, we exchanged greetings. SLO is one of the friendliest towns I have ever experienced. After finishing the conversation, smile on my face, I continued on my walk past a hotel with a gorgeous sprawling ficus tree reaching to the
sky. And a little past the hotel was a small parking lot which ended in an alley. As I walked by the lot, my feet stopped abruptly, seemingly of their own accord. A lump swelled in my throat and my smile faltered. Three people had died in front of me in the nearby alley. My taste for ice cream faded and I dumped my half-eaten cone in a nearby trash can. My now-empty fists clenched and unclenched. Squaring my shoulders and pushing my head from side to side, I stretched my neck muscles like a prize fighter. I knew what I needed to do— I had to take back this alley. I was not going to be intimidated by any part of my town. I needed to face my demons.

  I forced my feet to carry me over the parking lot to the opening. Straining my eyes for any movement, I looked down the small passageway. The only other company I had was a black bird sitting on a wire crossing over the alley. Pushing my head up, I took a deep breath and walked in. The trash cans, reeking of day-old restaurant cast-offs, lined the walls, like they had before. The small storage shed was still there. I hadn’t realized it was dark green—when I was last here, it was nighttime, and all colors were washed to shades of grey. And beyond the shed was where Jia attacked me, and Ming and Wen died. Remember, my inner voice said, you defeated her. She’s gone. There were only a few steps left and I would conquer the alley and my residual fear. I shifted my weight forward and someone stepped out from behind the storage shed.

  I nearly jumped out of my own skin and may have shrieked. Loudly.

  The man put his hands up, pushing his palms toward me in a calming position.

  “Whoa, whoa. Sorry, lady. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  My heart was pounding one hundred miles per hour, but I managed to catch my breath and stuff myself back into my skin.

  “Oh. Yes. Well. Um. I didn’t see you behind the shed. I thought I was alone back here.”

  “Hey, no worries. I was hidden back there, wasn’t I?” He looked over his shoulder, as if trying to see what made me startle so badly.

  I took that moment to study him. He wore faded jeans which were starting to fray at the bottom, and his shirt was a simple red plaid design, rolled to the elbows. The only distinctive part of his outfit was a massive belt buckle with intricate scrollwork and inlaid red stones. His hair was somewhere between a sandy blond and a medium brown. It was cut short but had turned a little shaggy at the ends as if he hadn’t bothered to get it cut in a while. His face was wrinkled and looked as if it had prematurely aged from frequent time in the sun. The very mediocre-ness of every feature made his age hard to determine, but my quick guess was that he was somewhere between thirty and fifty.

  He turned back to me. “Yup. Guess I was hidden by the shed. Sorry.”

  “That’s fine; you just startled me. I’m fine.” At this point, seeing as I was in an alley alone with a strange man, I probably should have walked speedily out of the alley, but my curiosity got the better of me. “So why were you back there?” Maybe if I hadn’t had such a traumatic experience, I wouldn’t have cared in the least, but I was frankly a little too paranoid to let it go. Besides, it was daylight and there was probably about twenty feet between us.

  “Ahhh. This is a little embarrassing,” the mystery man said with a sheepish twist to his mouth. “I’m staying at the hotel back there and the front desk clerk was telling me there was a bunch of murders back here recently. I guess I was seeing if there was any clue of it still here. But, you know, obviously the police would have cleaned it up long ago.” He cocked his head slightly to the side and squinted suspiciously at me. “So why were you walkin’ back here?”

  Before I had a chance to reply, he snapped his fingers. “I bet you were comin’ back here for the same reason. You have a morbid curiosity too.”

  I made a noise of denial, but he cut me off with a wave of his hand. “Nooo, you are white as a ghost right now. I don’t think that you were only curious.” He paused and squinted slightly at me again. “No, you have some connection to the crime. Yeah, that’s right. Were you a friend?”

  I pivoted on my heel, not bothering to answer him. He was getting way too close to the truth way too fast. This was more than a little creepy. Footsteps sounded behind me and in a few strides, he caught up to me.

  “I’m just doin’ all the wrong things today, aren’t I?” he said with a slight drawl. “Sorry again.”

  I didn’t say anything and focused on getting to the parking lot. It was only a few feet away, but it felt like it wasn’t getting any closer.

  “A back alley with a strange man talking about murders. That’s not a good way to treat a lady.” He shook his head as if he was upset at himself. After a seeming eternity, the alley spilled into the parking lot. I spotted a few people on the sidewalk ahead of us and relief flooded through me.

  “Look, lady. Let me at least introduce myself so you know what name to use when you’re cursin’ me out for being so rude, okay?” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Nick.”

  We were now walking in broad view of everyone on the main street of San Luis Obispo. Nothing had happened and the guy was being super polite. I probably overreacted—most people in this world are not out to get each other. I gave myself a mental shake and decided to give Nick the benefit of the doubt.

  “Freya. Pleased to meet you.” I shook his outstretched hand, which was hard and calloused.

  Nick cocked his head again. “Freya. Now that’s an unusual name. Probably not too many Freyas in this town, are there?” He smiled ever so slightly. “I’ll see you around, Freya.”

  He nodded, curled his thumbs into his belt loops, and turned down the street.

  I watched him stroll down the road. What a weird interaction. I didn’t know what to think about him or the situation. I decided to let it go. It probably wasn’t anything.

  Chapter 4

  When I arrived home, I found Gina in the kitchen again. This time, she had stopped on the way home from school and picked up a few more ingredients. A bag of barley sat next to a deli container of freshly grated parmesan. I don’t think I had ever bought either of those ingredients and I had about a decade more of grocery shopping experience than she did. She was zesting a lemon as I hopped up on the counter next to her. The fresh scent of citrus filled the room. Neither of us said anything for a moment.

  “So tell me what you learned in school today.” Internally, I groaned at my lame question, promptly betting with myself what her exact answer would be.

  “Nothing,” she replied.

  Aaaand… you won twenty bucks from yourself. I racked my brain for a better question, but then Gina surprised me as she corrected herself.

  “No,” she said, “that’s not true. I did learn something today. Did you know the story of how Rome was founded?”

  I knew, but in an attempt to keep conversation going, I shook my head.

  “So there were these two guys, Romulus and Remus. They were twins and supposed to be the kings of their land but their evil uncle murdered their parents and then tried to kill them. But a river swept them away and they were saved and raised by wolves for a while. Then some shepherd found them and adopted them as his own. But, even without knowing that they were royalty, they eventually killed the usurper king and were offered the crown to share between them. It was all cool for a while, but then they started arguing where to build their capital city. So they build two cities on different hills to spite each other. But then Remus starts talking smack about Romulus’ city wall and so Romulus kills him and becomes the solo leader and founder of Rome.” She stopped and looked at me. I wasn’t sure how I should respond, or if there was some deeper meaning, so I pitched my reply to be very neutral.

  “What do you think about the story?”

  She paused momentarily and took a deep breath, as if she was on the brink of saying something important, but then drew back into herself and gave a very teenager-y shrug. “I think it means that ancient people were whacked out. I’m making something like an orzo for tonight.”

  I was disappointed that she chose not to reveal why this story had im
pacted her, but understood that I was still an unknown in her very mixed-up life. Maybe I could bring up the foundation myth again sometime and try to get her to talk, but the current hunch of her shoulders told me that the door to that conversation had been firmly shut.

  “Is cooking a stress reliever for you?” I asked.

  There was a pause. “I guess.”

  “I can live with that.”

  I opened the container of parmesan, scooped up a few shreds of cheese, and popped them in my mouth. Wow. The rich, nutty flavor of the cheese was nothing like the parmesan from the green cardboard tube that had lived in my fridge for months.

  The plastic handle of the zester cracked down on my knuckles.

  “Ow. What was that for?” I whined, rubbing my knuckles like she had seriously injured me, although it had only been a scolding knock.

  “The parmesan is for the orzo. No snacking,” Gina said. And although her tone was that of a reprimanding matriarch, I saw a twitch of a smile on her face.

  “Orzo? The parmesan is for the orzo, or-zo you say…” The pun was terrible, but it gave me an excuse to grab another small pinch of the cheese and gobble it up.

  Gina groaned but didn’t assault me with the zester again, so I guess the joke was good enough.

  “Want to tell me about some of the people you met at school?” I asked. This was her second day in San Luis and her first day at the local public high school. I thought she would have been a good fit for the quirky private school I taught at, but her parents and her former pack had truly washed their hands of her and we hadn’t asked them to pay the tuition. Plus, the local public school was very good, so I didn’t feel bad about sending her there.