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With fear discarded and path chosen…

I twisted my lips to the side, eyeing the empty Mason jar on the nightstand.

I had plenty of reasons to feel like my mind was a prisoner, and boy, did it make my soul weary. My heart wasn’t broken, but who knew what the future held?

I laughed. “It’s just a silly occult game.” The alcohol was messing with me. “Might as well have some fun today.” Nothing else had gone right.

Setting the book down, I gathered the list of items required for the game: candles, a precious trinket, and a knife. I assumed a box cutter would work. I wasn’t going back downstairs for a knife.

I sat on the floor beside the bed, lighting and arranging four candles in a semicircle around the book as instructed. Slipping off my necklace, I placed it over the triangle symbol on the page that matched the one on the cover.

Frowning at the box cutter, I reread the line directing me to add drops of my blood to the symbol beside my trinket.

I needed another drink. It wouldn’t hurt; they barely had any vodka. I loved the strong, tart taste of cranberries more than the alcohol.

Nicking the pad of my thumb, I squeezed my finger until a few droplets fell to the page. I sucked the remaining blood from my finger while I continued reading.

Speak the words to bind your soul and heart to fate.

With a sigh, I read the bottom of the page.

With the declaration below, the Nyrith comes.

A forlorn smile crossed my face. “This Nyrith better bring me a car.” I shook my head at the ridiculousness of it all and recited the final silly lines the book instructed.

“Nyrith, my heart yearns for you. Nyrith, my soul needs you.”

A deafening crack of thunder shattered the silence, and lightning flooded the room with brightness before everything went dark again, save for the candles in front of me.

5

CRIMINALS

RAE

“Cool,” I said without humor. “That’s cool.” I rolled my eyes and drew my knees to my chest, setting my elbows on them. Another power outage—because of course there was. I rubbed my eyes with my palms.

After sitting ten minutes without power, I slipped my necklace on, blew out the spare candles, and set two on the dresser before leaving the room.

I moved carefully down the pitch-black stairs. I needed my phone to check the outage map, so I headed for the kitchen, using the candle to guide my steps.

An enormous shadow crossed my path when I rounded the counter, making me yelp and stumble back. Hot wax splashed onto my hand as the candle slipped from my grip and shattered. “Son of a—”

The stove light blinked on when the power returned.

I almost swallowed my tongue; another scream lodged in my throat as my gaze connected with olive-green eyes set beneath a heavy, puckered brow.

The giant staring down at me looked almost… uncomfortable, like he hadn’t expected me either.

He resembled a Norse Viking with his long brown hair—half pulled into a man bun with braids along the sides of his head. But he wasn’t dressed for a break-in. Casual jeans hugged his thick thighs, and a plain green T-shirt fit across his broad chest.

How was he not wet from the rain? And what was he doing standing in my kitchen in the middle of the night?

“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” My voice didn’t tremble, but my knees did.

The tanned man, with shoulders broad enough to make Thor proud, stepped forward. He grasped my elbow, sending an electric jolt up my spine. As if he felt it too, his eyes widened, and he released me, scratching his trimmed beard.

“The glass,” he said, his deep, rumbling voice edged with a breathy quality. He nodded toward the shards near my foot. I’d almost stepped into the broken glass.