A Twist of Wyrd (The Ways of Wyrd Book 1) Read online

  I whipped right out of the parking lot and tore off down Romig Road. The only thing keeping me from flying out of my body was my grip on the steering wheel.

  “Bryn, I’m not getting in bed with him. But you heard him.” She touched my shoulder. I flinched and she gripped it. “He’s not someone we can afford to disappoint.”

  She was right, but I couldn’t focus on that right now. I had to get home. I raced us down the hill, through the light, and left at Church’s Chicken. And left at the light and we hit the 77 North on-ramp. Fairlawn was less than five minutes up the road if I did eighty.

  I did ninety.

  “B, where are you going? Your office and your bike are back in Green, remember?”

  “Home. Need to get home.”

  “Okay.” She rubbed my shoulder and I looked nervously at the backseat. “We’re alone. It’s just you and me here.”

  “Like you’d know,” I snapped. “They pop out of the darkness and snatch you away before you can even scream.”

  Breathe. Shake it off. I turned on the dome light. Better.

  Her hand trembled. Yeah. Exactly. Finally, she was getting it. Or maybe she was afraid of me. I never let her see this panicked version of her gun-toting, hard-nosed best friend.

  Tonight had pushed me over the edge. I’d told her before about the bogeymen who slithered out of the shadows and stole children away from their mothers. Maybe it just took me melting down for her to realize how serious I was.

  Bogeymen. That’s what I’d called them all my life. Had spent countless hours with a therapist attempting to logically explain away the one lone memory I had of my life from birth to seven years old—the bogeymen holding me captive in a dark warehouse, torturing me, experimenting on me. Not a single other memory prior to that one survived.

  “I won’t let them take you. I promise,” Dezi said.

  “Like you could stop them.”

  I heard the derision in my tone and I hated it. Dezi was my best friend. She was only trying to help. Treating her like this hurt both of us, but I was a wounded animal right now. I couldn’t help myself.

  Dezi sighed and shook her head. “This is just your fear talking.”

  She was right, of course. That she was so understanding just made me feel worse. But I needed to be surrounded in light, not platitudes from my best friend.

  It was eleven years before I found out the truth about what happened to me. The truth of how my adoptive parents had used magic to erase my memory of the past, except for the one memory assured to make me wary of strangers. Because I had to be wary, but also determined.

  I had to push myself to be better, stronger, faster, deadlier than any woman had ever been, so no one could ever take me again.

  My adoptive parents left seven-year-old me with the memory of bogeymen. Then they told me those same creatures were too fantastical to exist. They told me I was abducted by bad guys, experimented on by a sick group of men. They told me there was nothing waiting for me in the dark.

  They lied to me because a child couldn’t be trusted with the truth. But at eighteen, I discovered it for myself and I’ve never forgiven them for it.

  “They don’t even know where you are, B.”

  The bogeymen were real. They waited for me in the dark. My birth father’s people—Svartalf. And their blood ran through my veins.

  “They found me once. They can find me again.”

  CHAPTER 8

  BRYN

  The second level of Hinterland’s Theater of War had four exits via doors, probably more in employee-only areas. If I wanted to break some windows, that added additional points of egress, but required getting out of these balcony seats. Wearing a dress and stilettos wasn’t exactly conducive to climbing over the rail and dropping down onto the seats below us. Then there was the whole escape into the dark night thing.

  Right.

  It was time to put an APB out on Jace. Chaperoning Dezi to client dinners was his job, not mine. Two outings within twenty-four hours were two too many. I could be snuggling into my comfy couch, eating Chunky Monkey ice cream right now.

  I poked my head out around Mordechai and glared at my soon-to-be-former best friend. Dezi happily chatted with Mist, Mordechai’s very human girlfriend who looked closer to his son’s age than his own. Mist gave me the Side-eye of Doom. Apparently, her internal threat assessment ranked me at DEFCON 2. Dezi finger-waved at me, completely oblivious to my aggravation or more likely enjoying it.

  I rolled my eyes and caught DG staring at my boobs. Again.

  Jerk.

  Sighing, I flopped back in my mini-throne and focused back on the center stage where two men in a cage beat the ever-loving crap out of each other. The crowd roared when one of them staggered backwards after a particularly vicious elbow to the face. I checked my watch. The first fight of the night was in its final minutes and we had one more after it.

  Normally, I loved mixed martial arts fights, but being surrounded by Outlanders and bookended by two Jotun mobsters sucked the joy right out of me. If Dezi hadn’t made me leave my dagger at home, I’d just shank myself and get it over with.

  “Most women would rather kiss me.”

  I gritted my teeth and willed that voice out of my head for the millionth time tonight. I hadn’t seen Mr. Tall, Dark, and Conceited since he’d put himself between me and a bullet. Thankfully, the gunman’s aim had been bad, or Hinterland’s insistence upon no police would have been overruled by an ambulance ride.

  All’s well that ends well, I guess. Except for the two idiots who had decided to rob a mobster. Mordechai’s arrogant head of security was probably taking care of the situation right this minute. Hunting down two armed men. Out there. In the dark.

  I shivered and ignored how dry my mouth got at the thought of something happening to him. After all, I barely knew Trygg Mackenzie. What did it matter to me if I never saw him again?

  “Are you cold, Bryn? Would you like my jacket?” Mordechai’s hand dropped onto my forearm and his girlfriend narrowed her eyes at me.

  Oh, for the love of Ben & Jerry’s.

  If he dropped his jacket on my shoulders, Mist was going to eviscerate me with her lacquered claws.

  “No, thank you. I’m fine. Really.” I slid my arm out from under his hand on the pretense of tucking my hair behind my ear. I had a pixie cut. There was nothing to tuck.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  “The next fight will be starting shortly. It should be quite exciting. Both of them are brutally strong and quick on their feet.”

  “Which styles of fighting do each of them prefer?” Might as well make the best of this, right?

  “One uses a combination of boxing and Muay Thai.”

  Nothing unusual there. “And the other man?”

  “His style is hard to pin down. It’s a mix of several, I believe. I’d be interested to hear your thoughts while you watch.”

  “Sure. Sounds like fun.”

  Mist gave me another death glare.

  Screw this.

  I hopped to my feet and stared at Mist. “Ladies’ room?”

  I felt DG’s gaze ooze down my body. “It’s downstairs. I’d be happy to show you.”

  “I’ll take her, DG,” Mist purred, rising to her feet.

  Cue the intro for Mean Girls.

  I motioned for Mist to precede me and pointedly ignored DG. “Let’s do this.”

  Mist turned left when I expected her to go right.

  “Aren’t the restrooms downstairs?” I’d seen the signs when we came in and DG had confirmed that.

  “Those are for the public. VIPs have a private one.”

  Of course they did.

  Mist stopped at a door down the hall from our box seat, punched in a code, then motioned for me to enter. As soon as I cleared the opening, she slammed the door and rounded on me. She had a couple of inches on me and she used them to look down her nose at me.

  She bared her tee
th. “I don’t know what your game is, but you picked the wrong woman to mess with.”

  I held up my hands and gave her my best placating tone. “Calm down, okay?”

  Mist glared at me and poked her index finger into my forehead. “Don’t tell me to calm down. You’re going to go back in there and tell everyone that you’re feeling sick and need to leave. You’ll never return here nor will you contact Mordechai in any way.”

  Adrenaline surged through my system and the urge to knock her off her Barbie heels was overwhelming, but I’d give her one chance to back off before I laid her out. “Take your finger off me.”

  “You don’t tell me what to do, bitch. Your fate is in my hands,” Mist spat as she grabbed me by the throat.

  And that was enough of that. I tucked my chin, grabbed Mist’s wrist, and jerked down. I intended to spin her around and reverse our positions, but as soon as my hand closed around her wrist, she whimpered and a feeling of dread washed over me. I tried to pull away from her, but electricity shot up my arm, locking my grip, then a vision exploded inside my head.

  I stood under a starless sky. Ahead, a girl ran for her life. I could feel her panic as rocks bruised her bare feet. Her red hair and wet clothes tangled around her body. Her breath blew out in puffs of white. So cold. She shot a terrified look over her shoulder at the sound of pursuit.

  Who was she?

  Weightless, I flew closer and closer to the girl, trying to see her face, until finally...I was the girl. Heart racing, limbs shaking, thoughts focused onto a single screaming word.

  Run. Run. Run!

  I had to run or he would catch me. Run forever, away from my home, away from my family, but most of all, away from him. But the rocks had other plans for me. My foot got caught and I went down hard. My breath whooshed out and I struggled to draw air.

  Get up. Get up. Get up!

  Before I could even rise to my knees, a muscular body landed on top of me and whispered into my ear, “Nothing I like more than a wee bit of a chase to get the blood pumping.” His hips pressed into mine. “And it surely is pumping for you.”

  I whimpered as my hopes died. “Please, let me go. I won’t tell anyone what you tried to do. I promise.”

  “Oh, I’ll be doing more than trying,” he said. He rolled me over and forced his mouth onto mine.

  For a moment, I floated out of the girl’s body. This wasn’t my life. I’m Bryn, not this faceless girl. If this was happening to me, I had a dozen moves to throw him off and incapacitate him, but the girl knew none of that.

  An invisible thread yanked me back into her body and I screamed, struggling against the man, bucking and clawing until he captured my hands and held them tight above my head with one of his. With the other hand, he pulled my skirts up and yanked at my panties.

  “Let her up!” a voice said from above me.

  Hope surged in my heart.

  The man’s hand froze and he looked over his shoulder. He chuckled. “This is no business of yours, boy. Go back to your whore mother.”

  “Not without her,” the boy said.

  A young boy stood beside us. I couldn’t see his face, but somehow I knew he wasn’t quite yet a man, though he bravely confronted the one who was hurting me...his friend.

  Or was I his girlfriend? Yes, I loved this boy.

  I floated out again, fighting against the girl’s feelings for the boy.

  A crack of lightning lit the sky and the boy’s bright green eyes flashed with defiance.

  Snarling, the man lunged up and grabbed the boy by his shirt. “I said leave.”

  “Just go,” the girl sobbed. “He’ll kill you if you don’t.”

  An animalistic growl rent the air.

  Mist wrenched away. Snarling and shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks, she whispered, “What are you?”

  The restroom reappeared. I dragged in a breath and spoke around the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had an uncontrolled—I mean, I’m sorry you remembered that.”

  “That wasn’t me! I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mist said, her voice rising.

  “Of course not.” Best to deny everything and get the heck out of there. I reached out to her. “Please, let me help you.”

  “Stay away from me! Don’t touch me!” Her gaze jerked back and forth. She wanted out without having to pass by me.

  “I won’t.” I pulled the door open and motioned at her. “Go ahead. You can leave.”

  Mist scuttled past me and ran. I stumbled to the lounge chair in the corner of the elegant powder room and sank onto the plush cushion. My hands shook as I stared into the connecting bathroom. Dezi would love this dainty, feminine setup. What I wouldn’t give to have her here with me right this second.

  Dezi had been the one who’d helped me gain control of myself after my first vision and every other one that attacked my mind. They had always come at the most inopportune moments, like tonight’s, but this was the first uncontrolled vision I’d had in years.

  Eight years to be exact.

  On the night of my high school graduation, I’d hugged my father and uttered the fateful words, “When you adopted me, did you ever think you’d see this day?”

  Before he could open his mouth, we’d both dropped into the memory of him standing behind my adoptive mother in the hospital as she wiped my mind, a good little soldier following orders.

  But after years of dealing with my powers, I hardly ever slipped. Why tonight and why Mist? Maybe it was just the emotional situation. I didn’t know, but I refused to wallow in an emotional minefield any longer.

  I stood up, straightened my dress and my shoulders, and took a couple of deep breaths. I was going to walk downstairs, get a drink, and then go back to the box seats and pretend that I hadn’t just made a woman relive one of the most traumatic moments of her life.

  “I hope that green-eyed boy rescued you, Mist,” I whispered, swallowing hard. Given her reaction, I wasn’t holding out much hope.

  By the time I’d walked down the steps my legs no longer trembled. I turned the corner at the bottom of the steps and ran face-first into a linebacker chest. Big hands gripped my waist, steadying me and unbalancing me all at the same time.

  “Hi, you,” I stammered. So smooth.

  His lips curled into that grin that instantly lowered my IQ. “Forgot my name already?”

  “Not possible.”

  Oh my god.

  I pulled away from him and straightened my spine. “I remember the name of everyone I almost shoot.”

  His gaze wandered lazily down to my mouth. “How about the name of someone you wanted to kiss?”

  In his dreams.

  I stepped around him and delivered my put-down over my shoulder. “I don’t remember people who can’t get the job done.”

  “Oh, I can get the job done. Just give me a time and place and I’ll bring my tools.”

  What a comedian. I kept walking until I got to the bar and then slid onto a barstool. The main event was about to start and the bar area was empty, everyone already settled into their seats.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asked, ready and waiting to take my order since I was his only customer.

  I needed something strong, but wasn’t prepared to down straight shots of tequila. Yet. “How are your Long Islands?”

  He looked over my shoulder. “Mac, tell the lady how my Long Islands are.”

  I glanced behind me and groaned. Why couldn’t the man just go away? My earlier desire to see him had been killed by my run-in with Mist. I wasn’t prepared for verbal sparring while trying to shake off the feeling of being hunted by a rapist. That vision had wrecked me. And what the heck was that growl I’d heard right before it ended?

  “It’s okay. I’m sure they’re fine.”

  “Do you like limes?” Trygg asked as he sat down onto the stool beside me.

  “Yes,” I bit out, consciously avoiding his gaze and those eyes that were more forest than lime.

  “Br
ing the lady a Long Island,” he said. “I’ll take a Guinness. On my tab.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  His hand closed over mine on top of the bar and my whole body shuddered with awareness. His heat soothed away the last of my jitters.

  I tried to jerk my hand away and he tightened his grip.

  “Please,” he said.

  The soft tone and vulnerability surprised me and I couldn’t resist looking up at him. There was nothing dishonest or sinister in his gaze, just a gentle pleading for me to let him do as he asked. A feeling of ease and safety washed over me.

  “Why?”

  His answer was a boyish grin and my heart revved in my chest. “To apologize for making you want to shoot me.”

  “You’re going to be apologizing all night then. My feelings haven’t changed.”

  He threw his head back and laughed, showing off straight white teeth. “You don’t pull any punches, do you?”

  “Come to my Krav Maga class. I’d be happy to demonstrate.”

  “You teach Krav Maga?”

  I shook my head. “No, I go for the workout.”

  His gaze roamed over my face then took a leisurely tour of my body. I returned the perusal. If any other man had done that to me, I would have left, but if I did now, I’d be a hypocrite.

  Trygg Mackenzie was the definition of juxtaposition. Wrinkled suit on a smooth operator. Boyish grin and intense gaze. I wanted to know him and I also wanted to run for my life.

  His body was so solid and well defined, so sexy that he made my lungs go into breathless mode. Geez, I didn’t breathe this hard after a quarter-mile sprint. By the look on Trygg’s face, he was enjoying the workout my spaghetti straps were getting.

  Please don’t break.

  The bartender returned and slid our drinks in front of us. “Anything else I can get you?”

  I shook my head, thankful for the interruption. “I’m good.”

  “Mac?”

  “No. I’ll let you know if there is, Jack.”

  There was a definite dismissal in his tone and Jack heard it loud and clear. He winked at Trygg and moseyed to the other end of the bar to wipe out glasses that were probably already spotless.