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area. Most of the other homeless are either caught or have fled. Our battle becomes the focus for the remaining ones, and they all head toward us.
    The guy I kicked moans and curses. As he starts to rise, the other man reaches us. The new guy grabs for Shondra’s arms, but I won’t let go, so he punches me in the face. I fly back several feet, and my skull smacks the asphalt with a sick crack. My stomach muscles flex as I sit up, blinking. The back of my head is sticky where I touch it.
    Shondra is screaming at me. “Run!” The spark I saw in her eyes goes dull, and I can tell she’s given up. “You can’t help me. Go!” A goon picks her up and throws her over his shoulder like a sack of wheat.
    For one brief second, I hesitate and count the four skeletons approaching me. I gaze one last time at the retreating image of my only friend, and then, God forgive me, I run.
    • • •
    “Ahhhh!” I jolt awake and struggle to free myself from my tightly wrapped bonds. My chest heaves, heart pounding.
    “Get. Off. Me!”
    Like a mermaid plucked from the water, I flail around until my body rolls off one level and falls onto a lower one. Ouch! Eyes open, I realize I’m in my apartment.
    I’m covered in sweat. Damp sheets envelop my arms and legs. I kick off the last of the covers and stumble into the kitchen for a drink. My head hangs over the sink as I fill my glass with water, tears still streaming down my cheeks.
    Oh, Shondra. I wish you were here, and these stupid dreams were random nightmares to wish away, but they’re not. It all happened. You’re gone—and everything is one hundred percent my fault.

5
    I never go back to sleep after my nightmares. Instead, thoughts of Shondra fill my head. Lying there, I hate the Snatcher, the goons, myself for the cowardice that made me run instead of fight for her. I never once thought of my knife, or used what I’d learned about self-defense.
    My fingers push my sweat-soaked hair back and scrub the tears from my eyes.
    Rolling over, my mind turns to Jeff, wondering what he’s about, and what really happened in the bank the day before, taxi cabs … the hot guy with amazing blue eyes.
    Lots of girls I knew had boyfriends. What’s it like to have someone you trust to talk to when you’re scared or worried or happy. I fantasized Grey was lying next to me, keeping me warm. Ugh, whatever. A dog can do that, too.
    I’m definitely getting a dog.
    Getting up and grabbing the shiny new laptop I bought with Jeff’s money, I slip back into bed and log on.
    Jeff’s voice bounces phrases around in my head. The warrior swore an oath to obey his King’s last request. Birdie, I cannot destroy the amulet. Only an heir of Orn Strong Wing can do that.
    The words Orn Strong Wing appear in the search bar as I type. I so love you Google . The search ends, and a list of clickable options pops up.
    A guide to Norse men’s names.
    I scroll down.
    Oddkell, Ongull, Ormr, Orn: Known in Old Danish as Ørn. Norse noun örn or “eagle.”
    Jeff’s voice whispers through my mind again. What is your name, Birdie, your full name? Do you suppose the name you use is coincidence?
    My hands tremble. I make a show of closing the lid with precision and setting my laptop on the floor by my mattress. He’s crazy, right? His story is just that, a story , nothing more.
    Jeff’s words continue to plague me. The warrior swore an oath. Only an heir of Orn Strong Wing can break the curse. Do you suppose the name you use is coincidence? What is your name, Birdie?
    Oh. My. Gosh . Orin.
    “No. It’s no coincidence,” I say to the night. “Orn means Eagle, and my name is Rebecca.Rebecca Starling Orin— the bird.”
    • • •
    Since I can’t sleep, I get up and shower. My palm smears the steam from the mirror as I try to find a visible spot. I frown at my appearance. I’ve never worn much makeup, but my lashes are so blond, I usually wear dark brown mascara and eyeliner to help them stand out. My eyes are