Night Aberrations - An Adult Paranormal Romance (Night Aberrations Series) Read online

  Night

  Aberrations

  By

  JD Nelson

  This book is a work of fiction. It is a product of the author’s imagination.

  Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, organizations, or events is coincidental.

  Night Aberrations © 2012 by JD Nelson

  Published by Chaste Moon Publishing

  KiNDLE Edition

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced without the author’s permission, with the exception of reviews.

  This is for you, Viking.

  We are nature.

  We are the whispering of leaves in the trees, the Glistening of dew on the grass, and the call of the mourning dove.

  We are the creation of God.

  When man came, we knew our shape.

  We are man and nature still.

  Unknown - Lost Poems of the Norse

  —Prologue—

  “911, what is your emergency?”

  “M-my parents are dead.”

  I dropped the phone on the kitchen table and stumbled over the debris to get back into the living room—back to my parents. I could hear the 911 operator’s faint voice calling me. “Ma’am? Ma’am?” It didn’t matter. I couldn’t speak anymore. I couldn’t even breathe. The tears that I’d been too shocked to cry were now streaming from my eyes, blurring my vision of the bloodied couch. Oh God, my mother’s hand was there.

  I fell to my knees, unable to go any further, and shrieked when someone crouched in front of me. I recognized his face the moment everything went black.

  —Chapter One—

  I woke to the sound of sirens—again. Then I tumbled ass-over-teakettle off the bed—again, ending up on the floor with one of my slippers wedged in a place that no shoe should ever be allowed.

  I rubbed at my dry eyes, which were feeling more and more like the Sahara every day, and wondered how much longer it would be before some concerned neighbor would alert police to the strange smell emanating from the seemingly vacant house at the end of the cul-de-sac. This sad, complicated performance was becoming an unwelcome daily occurrence.

  By now, you’d think I would realize that the sirens were just the alarm clock, but no. Apparently, any sense of sound judgment had left the building.

  I glared over at said clock, angry that he had the audacity to remind me of my parent’s death every single morning for the past week. A stupid attention whore, that’s what he is.

  I considered the punishments that I could issue for the alarm clock’s latest transgression. Perhaps ripping his cord out of the socket and throwing him at the opposite wall—he would make a very satisfying crash, or maybe death by car tire was a more deserving sentence—no, I shouldn’t get behind the wheel in my condition.

  Oh, who was I kidding, I could never hurt Mr. Alarm Clock, no matter how mad I was at him. He held hundreds of memories of my father. I remember him laughing at me for keeping “human hours” when he came in to tuck me in bed at night. I remember him yelling at the top of his lungs for me to turn Mr. Clock off when I slept right through his alarm, and who could forget the times my father threatened to throw Mr. Clock in the garbage after he had to come in to turn him off himself? I guess the fact that I didn’t technically need to sleep made my super lame excuses even uh…lame-ier, but I wanted to be human more than anything and Dad knew it.

  Dragging myself back under the blankets, I whispered to myself. “You win again Mr. Clock, but I’ve got my eyes on you.”

  It was dark when I woke next. I sat up stiffly, letting my eyes adjust to the dimly lit room. Nothing seemed amiss as far as I could tell; the dirty laundry was still stacked against the wall (along with the empty aspirin and water bottles) and the voice mail button was still blinking at me like some kind of demented strobe light, and yet, there was something different. The hairs on my arms were sticking straight up and there was a familiar good feeling throughout the house; a sensation I hadn’t felt since my parent’s murder. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, only to open them wide a second later when I realized what I was feeling.

  Thank God, I was saved.

  I stumbled to the bathroom to try to make myself presentable. I couldn’t do anything about the way I looked, but maybe I could manage to style my long, white-blond curls into something that didn’t look like small woodland creatures were living in it.

  It was a little disappointing, but not surprising to see that I had gotten worse. I had to make myself stop looking in the mirror a couple days ago when I discovered my skin was jaundiced and my cheeks had become hollow. I made a vow then and there that though I might be dying; I was not going to document every change I underwent as I made my mad dash to the grave. I was going to come to terms with my demise the only way I could, by ignoring it. Just like a normal person.

  My slow shuffle down the hallway seemed to take forever. It was worth it though, just to see Uncle Soren flipping through an old photo album, looking exactly as he had in the thirty year old photos he held.

  He wasn’t really my uncle; he was my father’s best friend. I’d actually never met him formally, but I’d imagined so many things between us already. He was the only person that my parent’s had ever mentioned from their old life, so of course I had been fascinated by his mysteriousness from the moment I laid eyes on him. For entire days, I would stare at his pictures. I especially loved the hawkish severity he exuded; it was beautiful to look at, even if in every picture he seemed detached, unfriendly, and determined to avoid the camera. His unusual long, white hair and burning red eyes only made him more attractive to me. For the last three years, he has literally been the male of my dreams. Now he was here in my living room and I looked like an extra for Night of the Living Dead.

  “Hello, Uncle Soren,” I said, making my presence known and trying to ignore the way my heart raced with a mixture of dread, excitement, and nervousness.

  “I am not your uncle.”

  Disappointment rang through me. He didn’t even spare me a glance. This certainly wasn’t the way I’d envisioned our first meeting.

  When he did finally turn toward me, I watched his stern look turn to horror as he took in my frail condition with shock and surprise. It was the same look of concern and panic that shadowed his features no more than a week ago; the night I found my parent’s bodies.

  “Emelie.” He said in a deeply distressed voice. “What has happened to you?”

  I held on to the wall for support as I moved closer to rest on the couch. “Well, as you can probably guess, I’m dying.”

  He sat next to me and put his cold hand to my blazing forehead. It felt like heaven. I sighed in appreciation.

  “You are dying from magic withdrawal.” He said gravely.

  “Without my parents, I have no one here to draw from.” I replied.

  “You’ve never been to Yggdrasil? You have no magic of your own?”

  I chuckled weakly and gestured to myself in answer to his obvious questions.

  Sighing deeply, he stood. “We must work quickly if you are to survive. Your body is already shutting down. I could not detect your presence when I entered the house; I thought you had gone out for the evening.”

  Gingerly lifting me into arms, he marched me back into my bedroom and laid me on the bed. Noticing my questioning look, he smiled at me in what I’m sure he thought was a reassuring smile, but it was far from it. I was ready to bolt from the room at any moment. There was no sympathy in his eyes for me, he didn’t really care that I was dying. He was just
duty-bound to save me. I can’t believe I’d actually had romantic dreams about this male. In the dreams, he had been sexy and affectionate. In reality he was still sexy…definitely still sexy, but so cold.

  Joining me on the bed, he motioned for me to come to him. I hesitated.

  He narrowed his crimson eyes. “Don’t be so skittish, Emelie. I won’t hurt you. You can absorb my magic much better if we are skin to skin.”

  I nodded mutely and nestled into his side, laying my head on his newly exposed chest. He smelled wonderful, just as I knew he would. The bastard.

  Almost instantly I felt my magic return and it proved impossible to hold back the gasp when my face plumped up and my strength started to return. I tried to lift my head away from him, but he held me in place.

  “Not yet, little one, you are still quite unwell.”

  “How did you do that?” I whispered in awe.

  “I am Soren Vidar of Asgard, the son of Odin and Grid. I am one of the first.” He said simply, as if that should explain everything.

  I stiffened against him. “You don’t mean THE Odin, do you?”

  My parents had made sure I knew about Odin. The stories of the families ripped apart because of his lack of compassion kept me up many a night when I was young. I was always afraid that he was lurking outside my shower curtain or hiding in the closet next to my bed at night while I slept.

  Soren furrowed his brows. “Please relax, little one. You are safe with me. I do not serve my father. You might not realize it because you did not grow up in the worlds of Yggdrasil, but there are great many creatures there that refuse to be ruled by ‘The Alfather.’ Anders and I have…had long been together in the rebellion against him.”

  While he continued to inspire trepidation in me, I had little choice other than believe him. If he was Odin’s offspring, he could crush a little elf like me without a second thought. Honestly, it was almost impossible to distrust him while the slight tingling where our skin touched was so soothing and familiar, almost reminiscent of my mother’s magic. I closed my eyes and calmed myself by concentrating on the tranquility of his healing magic.

  “It is because I am more closely related to her, than I am to the light elves.” He said in answer to my thoughts.

  This startled me. I’d forgotten that there were those who could read your mind. Elves did not possess this particular talent. Damn it. Why hadn’t my parents ever taught me to block telepaths and what did he mean by he was more closely related to my mother? She was a light elf too.

  Soren interrupted my thoughts. “I can teach you how to prevent entry into your mind, but first I must address one thing.”

  I was afraid to hear what he was about to say. “What’s that?”

  He spoke in a tentative voice. “Your mother was not a light elf, Emelie.”

  I sat up and negotiated myself out of his grasp. “What do you mean? Of course she was, just like my father.”

  “No, I am very sorry that they kept this from you, but you are only half light elf. Your mother was a Norn.”

  My mind swam as I attempted to process this information. Why hadn’t she told me this herself? She had to have known I would find out this way if she died. Now I felt like I didn’t know her at all. What else didn’t I know about her?

  Soren cast a pitying look in my direction.

  “What, Soren? What don’t I know? Let’s just get it out into the open.”

  He sighed; burden was evident in his countenance. “Very well, your parents arranged your marriage before you were born, and you are weeks away from being a queen. Now, come into the living room where it is warm and I will tell you everything.”

  I gaped at him for his bluntness long after he had left the room, but eventually followed him and stood arms-crossed in front of the newly ignited fireplace.

  I was trying to be calm like he was, but as soon as he settled onto the couch I burst out with, “Who is this man…Is he a man...How do you know this?” My words were coming out in one jumbled sentence because my mind was caught in a whirlwind of terror.

  He pulled me down on the couch with him. “Calm down. None of this is happening right this second. Let me explain it fully before you start your hysterics.”

  Hysterics? I just knew Soren was about to tell me that I’d be marrying a troll and having little troll babies under a bridge somewhere.

  “You are endearingly neurotic, Emelie. I never know what you will think next.”

  “That is not a compliment.” I said dryly.

  He winked mischievously at me. It looked so absurdly out of place on his face, I had to laugh.

  “Now my dear little one, if you are truly settled, I will tell you of your parents.”

  I fluffed the throw pillow and put it behind me. “And…go.”

  Staring off into the fire, he began. “Your parents weren’t meant to be. Anders was once betrothed to Princess Viveka Väsen of Svartálfaheim—the land of the dark elves. Theirs was supposed to be the union that connected the divided races of elves, but he loved another; your mother, Wist.”

  I nodded knowingly. “My parents told me frightening stories about the black elves and their mad king. They are not to be trusted.” I shook my head as if it would rid my mind of this new thought. “I can’t imagine my dad ending up with a dark elf, instead of mom. She and dad were so deeply in love.”

  He made a sound of disgust. “Your mother is to blame for all of this. Norns have but only two rules that they must follow: They are forbidden to reproduce while in service, and they are not to interfere with the Fates that they cast. Not only had she become pregnant by Anders, but she was also the one who cast Viveka’s Fate; committing both of the crimes that carry an excommunication sentence for Norns. She and Anders went into hiding the day they married. Even I didn’t know they had left together. They made sure everything was in secret.”

  “That’s incredible.” Hearing about my parent’s secret double life was amazing; it was like something out of a movie. Of course, it would be more amazing if they hadn’t screwed my future ten ways to Sunday. “How did you find them out?”

  “Anders called me; he knew I could be trusted. He knew that I do not believe in the mockery that is Odin’s Fate system today. People should be able to live their own lives, make their own mistakes, and be able to love the one who is meant for them. Not be at the mercy of a wicked Norn who is money or power hungry enough to break a Fate for their own personal gains. Times have changed and we must convince him of that or break free of his rule.” He tucked my hair behind my ear. “He knew I could never betray you.”

  What a sweet and poignant thing to say. I took his hand in mine and held it to my heart in a traditional elven gesture of thanks—and then ignored the look of distaste that flashed across his face at my touch. Okaaay…I guess our tender moment was over.

  He examined our entwined hands with a frown, but started speaking again without removing it. “Anders contacted me almost nine months after they left, when you were born. They wanted you to be raised in a normal family, safe from the risks they brought upon you. I helped them come to Midgard and they settled in California as humans in secret. No one but I knew the location.”

  “Risk? Was it because of the excommunication thing?”

  He ignored the question. “The black elves declared war against the light elves even though your mother went to them and arranged for you to take Anders place. Until it is time for you to marry, the fighting will continue. They want what they were promised, a union between the purest of their races.”

  “How am I pure if I’m only half light elf?”

  He nodded. “Though they do not know who your mother is and your father’s ancient blood is considered pure. You may only be twenty but your father’s blood is thousands of years old. They consider you to be one of the purest of all the light elves.”

  “And I’m supposed to take my father’s place? I’m supposed to unite the elves; the same elves that have been fighting for twenty years, for no reason?�
� Oh, this will not end well. Nope. It has dismal failure written all over it.

  “Yes, the very same elves. Most are ready to end the battle, but you would do well to remember that it has been years since the fighting began, and there are many elves that benefit from the unrest in various ways. They would kill you in an instant if they knew where you were to keep their fortune intact. We have to keep you safe until you can be married.” He sighed heavily. “It is unfair for them to have put this on your shoulders, Emelie.”

  I sat back dejected. I couldn’t disagree with that. I was more than a little pissed that I’d never be able to experience falling in love. My whole damn future was already mapped out for me.

  “We know who killed your parents.” Soren declared, effectively pulling me out of my sorrow and into ass-kicking mode.

  I let go of his hand and stood up. “What! Who?”

  He frowned again. “Several hundred years ago, citizens of Vanaheim wanted to honor their God, Freyr. They decided to make a being in his image. The experiment went horribly wrong and Freyr was almost killed. The abomination that they made escaped and has been wreaking havoc upon the Norse-lands ever since.”

  “Where is the real Freyr?”

  “He is in seclusion. He thinks it best until we capture the doppelgänger and I have to agree. This creature is mad and very cunning, often appearing almost as Freyr does; actually, it thinks that it is Freyr, so it is wise for him to stay in isolation, lest he be confused with his doppelgänger. Did you know that the elves were once given to Freyr as a gift?”

  I shook my head.

  “Ages ago they were his, though the elves eventually rebelled and won their freedom, soon breaking into the two factions that you have today. The doppelgänger is insanely obsessed with controlling the elves. From what we can figure out, he seems to think that if you do not unite the elves with your marriage, he has a chance of lording over them once again.”