Chapter 11 #2
She grabbed a scrunchie off her wrist, pulling her long, strawberry locks into a pony. A line of silver hoops stamped her cartilage, all the way up to where the top of her ears came to a sharp point.
I tried—I really did—but I could just feel my eyes tripling in size and the air escaping my lungs. I’d seen enough movies, read enough books, even heard Shanley speak about them briefly to know…
Elves. These were elves.
She tilted her head at me, cheeks flushed from exertion as she hefted the stack of dirty plates to her hip. “Who’s this?”
“This is River. She’s staying at the hostel.” He swiveled in my direction. “River, this is Freyja.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said, her voice guarded.
A fold appeared between her brows. Shit. I was staring.
“Nice to meet you too,” I said quickly.
Gunnar propped up his elbows, resting his weight on the counter. “Can we please get two quadruple cappuccinos, Frey?”
“You got it.” With a wink, she drifted gracefully over to the espresso machine, wiping her hands on her apron.
“So, River,” Gunnar drawled, “what brings you to Reykjavík?”
“It’s…” Of course he’d ask that. Anyone would. It was an obvious, normal, question—but one I stupidly hadn’t planned an answer to. “I have a relative here. Uh, extended family. Well, more like a family friend…”
“Your drinks.” Freyja dropped two steaming mugs in front of us.
That was quick. Supernaturally quick.
Eager to have an excuse to dodge the question, I grabbed mine and took a sip. The rich, earthy notes settled on my tongue. “This is the best thing I have ever tasted.”
“Traveling will do that,” she laughed, heading to a customer flagging her from the other side of the bar.
Gunnar looked at me expectantly.
“Yeah, so that friend, she’s kind of like a great aunt? I just graduated”—lie. You’re a liar, River—“so I thought I’d come out here… to visit and explore. I’ve never been out of the country before.”
“Does she live in the city center?”
“No, she’s…” My fingers twisted in my lap, the edges of my nails scraping together.
Ugh, why was I so jittery? I was oceans away from home, the Finland wolves hadn’t reported any suspicious behavior, nobody here knew who or what I was…
Unlocking my phone, I pulled up the browser, the tab still open on the map. A marker hovered near the watchtower coordinates. “She lives out here, somewhere.”
Gunnar leaned over the screen, his forehead furrowing. “Not much out there. A geothermal swimming pool and a couple of guesthouses. There’s also an old village, but that was abandoned decades ago.”
And a lighthouse, I waited for him to say. I mean, it was there—on the map. But oddly, he didn’t mention it.
Suspicion picked at my insides like a crow gnawing on carrion. “Are there any buses that go out there?”
Gunnar blinked. A few times. I swore he was studying me closer.
“If you think that’s where you’ll find your aunt… let me tell you, there are no people out there. Just a lot of wind. And ice. And puffins.” He said it so casually—too casually—as if it were the least important place in the world.
It only made me more skeptical. But before I was able bring up the watchtower, Freyja reappeared.
She untied her apron, plopping it in front of us. “What are we up to today?”
“Sleeping,” Gunnar replied with no hesitation. “And it sounds like River might be trying to catch a ride to Dyrhólaey. Vitavellir.”
Didn’t know where that was, but assuming it was the location on the map, I went along with it.
“Ah,” she said, her voice pitching up. “What for?”
“Family,” he responded smoothly. “A great aunt.”
“Interesting.” A look passed between the two of them. It was subtle, but I didn’t miss it. They were scrutinizing me just as much as I was them. What for, I didn’t know, yet. “Not many people out there,” Freyja said, like she and Gunnar were reading from the same script.
When I didn’t acknowledge that, his fingers tapped an uneven rhythm across the bar top. “Not many at all.”
My eyes narrowed. Were they speaking in code or something? How many times did they need to say that?
“Well…” Cheeks raising in a close-lipped smile, she twisted out from behind the counter. “I’m off. There’s a south swell coming in.”
My breath caught in my throat, my heart fluttering. If there was one thing that could get me to ignore their questionable comments, ignore all my responsibilities, it was the opportunity to catch a wave.
“You surf?” The excitement in my voice was tangible; I cringed.
“I do,” she said with a laugh. “You?”
I nodded. God, I was practically salivating.
“Want to join me?” Her gray eyes burned brighter, as if they were crafted from the arctic sea themselves. “We can try to find your cousin’s house after.”
“Aunt—”
“Right, right.” She swatted the air, silver rings glinting on her golden-brown fingers.
Trapping the air in my chest, I took a beat to decide, while Gunnar texted someone and Freyja grabbed her bag.
Part of me was still a little weirded out.
I was probably just jet-lagged. It was just my sleep-deprived brain tricking me into thinking the world was against me—that they were against me—and I had nothing to worry about.
Gunnar and Freyja had been nothing but kind and welcoming.
“Let’s do it.” The rest of my words tumbled out in one, quick, excited string. “I hoped to fit in a surf sesh, but I wasn’t sure I’d get the chance. I packed my thickest wetsuits just in case!”
“One can never have too many,” Gunnar quipped, stashing his phone in his jacket pocket. “Fair warning: I’m sleeping on the way. Night shift.”
“You get your beauty rest. It’ll take us a little over an hour.” Freyja playfully cupped his cheek before turning to me. “Grab your stuff, River. We’re going surfing.”