Struck: (Phoebe Meadows Book 1) Read Online Free

Ingrid whipped open my front door and disappeared through the opening.
    I glanced wearily at the huge raven.
    It snapped its beak a few times, and I flinched, my fingernails scrabbling on the wall.
    Today, after I’d been struck, I’d felt energized. Now, with everything that had happened, from the mystery one-handed man accosting me on the subway stairs, to right this minute, I felt totally drained.
    I just wanted to lie down. I needed to rest.
    “This can’t be happening,” I muttered to myself. My twenty-fourth birthday was in less than a week. Maybe this was some sort of elaborate practical joke Ingrid was playing on me, starting with exploding fluorescent lights and ending with a telepathic raven and a mad escape from the Norns. I glanced directly at the raven, meeting its beady stare, human to bird. “Ingrid is just taking me to a costume surprise party. I’m going to look back on all of this in a few days and laugh. Isn’t that right, big, scary bird?”
    There was no way this raven was going to answer me.
    I brought a hand up and pressed it against my neck, checking my pulse to make sure I was actually alive and breathing, and made my decision. I was going to shut the door behind Ingrid, lock it, and crawl into bed. Then I was going to pile an army of pillows over my head so the raven didn’t peck me to death. I was pretty sure once it got hungry enough, it would leave through the window from whence it came.
    If not, I’d deal with it in the morning.
    Leave…now.
    The words fluttered through my brain, same as before, with a small tickle and a poof of air.
    My eyebrows shot above my hairline right as Ingrid stuck her head through my still open door. “Phoebe, let’s go! Right now! If you want to live, follow me. If you want to die, then, by all means, stay here. But I wouldn’t wish that kind of death on anyone.”
    I glanced from Ingrid to the raven.
    “Fine. I’ll go,” I squeaked. “But you have to promise me that when we get to where we’re going, I get a drink, possibly with a pineapple slice or two and definitely with an umbrella. I need an umbrella.”

3
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    I trailed Ingrid down the stairs. She moved fast, but I managed to keep up. The lighting in my hallway sucked, but the leather crisscrosses holding her breastplate in place stood out starkly over her white tunic.
    “Ingrid,” I said to her quickly retreating back. “Don’t you think it would be a good idea to change into regular clothes? You know, before we actually encounter the general public on the street? Plus, I don’t think spears are allowed on the subway. I’m pretty sure they’re considered deadly weapons.”
    “This is New York, Phoebe. Nobody gives a crap what I’m wearing,” she tossed over her shoulder. “If anybody asks, I’ll tell them I’m an extra in a movie, and they won’t blink twice. Don’t worry about the spear.” She shook the weapon once, and it flexed, snapping smoothly down on its own to the size of a baton.
    When she was done, she holstered it at her waist.
    It must be a trick spear. “That was neat.” I was out of breath by the time we came to a stop in front of the door leading outside. “Can anyone buy one of those? It looked so real before.”
    Ingrid ignored my foolish question, peering sideways through the glass, her back up against the wall. “Huggie’s in place already. The plan is to follow him. He chooses which tunnel we go down, understood? You have to stay close to me. Are you sure you can keep up?” She gave me a critical once-over.
    I glanced down at my own attire, still laboring hard, like I’d sprinted a lap.
    Underneath my wool coat I had on a gray work skirt, black tights, a blue blouse, and fairly sturdy black boots. On my head I wore a black knit hat. A black and white checked scarf finished the ensemble.
    It was winter after all.
    I reached up and rearranged my scarf so it covered half of my face and pulled my black knit cap down