Chapter Six Amund
It’s already time to start our nightly patrol. As part of Safety and Surveillance Protocols, upper-level students take turns patrolling campus. Father is the head hunter, and responsible for Skallagrim’s security, so he oversees our patrols, too.
Most of the time, they’re uneventful. Sometimes we have to deal with medical emergencies, fights, or petty crimes. Rarely, a berserkr loses control and maims someone. But it’s been years since that happened. Five to be exact.
I was only thirteen, but I haven’t forgotten.
Two berserkir boys got into a brawl.
By the time we reached them, one had already gone berserk. A boar. It was my first time seeing one fully transformed. The boar charged his classmate. Tusks tore through flesh. Blood everywhere. The victim was as good as dead—until Father sent an arrow straight through the boar’s skull.
Now I sheathe my dagger and sling my quiver around my back. I have to be prepared, even though I hope tonight will be uneventful. After pulling on my leather gloves, I flex my fingers slowly. The smell of the metal and leather is comforting, as familiar to me as home.
Home. The home I think of isn’t the way ours is now, but how it used to be when Mother and Nils still lived with us. A home that always smelled of arctic thyme and simmering stews and melting candles. A home that actually felt like one.
My phone buzzes.
A new message from Val pops up. Ready?
I find her waiting for me outside.
She frowns as soon as she sees me. “You look rough.”
“Do I?”
Val nods. “Your dad shouldn’t be so hard on you.”
“I can take it.” Her concern makes me uncomfortable. I thought I could hide how bad I feel. “We should go. We’re going to be late.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” Val says. She doesn’t sound convinced.
By the time we reach Father’s office, Dorian and Michael are already there.
As Father spreads the map of Skallagrim across his desk, I can tell something is wrong. His body is drawn as tight as a bowstring.
“Egill’s pelt was stolen last night,” Father says, tapping a finger on the main hall. “I want you to be on the lookout for anyone suspicious. That pelt is an important part of Skallagrim’s legacy, and it was stolen right under our noses. Report anything unusual to me at once.”
“On it,” Val says.
Dorian casts her a scathing look.
“Who’s covering what tonight?” Father asks.
This is another one of his tests.
The berserkir section is the largest, and also houses the rowdiest bunch of students.
Or the ones most likely to give us a hard time.
The witches’ and hunters’ sections are on opposite sides.
Our own turf is the safest. Only a fool would try anything there.
Then in the back is Skallagrim’s original campus and what was once the seer school.
Even though it’s abandoned, no one ever really wants to patrol there, mainly because it’s creepy as hell.
“I’ll take berserkir,” Dorian says without missing a beat. He’s always salivating for a school-sanctioned reason to get into it with the berserkir students.
“Hunter for me,” Michael says not long after. Of course he takes the easiest one. He hates anything that requires actual effort. I hear he’s undefeated at Counter-Strike though.
Val looks up from the map and meets my gaze. She knows which one I want, but I can’t say so outright. Not without angering Father. She gives me a quick wink before saying, “I guess I’ll take seer.”
“I’ll cover witch, then,” I say, grateful to Val.
Even so, I glance at Father, nervous to see how he’ll react. The only time I’ve ever seen him smile is after a successful hunt, when he’s brought down a berserkr. But I still hope for some sign he’s pleased with me. Or at least not angry.
After a moment, Father nods, seemingly satisfied. “Very well.”
It’s the best reaction I could hope for.
“You’re all dismissed.”
We leave the lodge together but split up as soon as we get outside.
Father hands me my two-way radio. “Eyes open and ears sharp.”
“I know.”
He can’t hear me. He’s already gone. Sometimes Father moves so fast it’s as if he disappears before my eyes. His reflexes and speed are preternatural. The ultimate hunter. How can I possibly compete with that?
I shove the thought away along with my radio.
Time to start patrol.
When I reach the witches’ section, no one is around.
The moon sits high above me, which means it’s late enough that most students will be back in their dorms. I slip down a nearby alley and grip one of the fire escape ladders, hoisting myself up.
I quickly scale the side of the building and climb onto the roof, where I have the best vantage point.
The campus is quiet and still. No sign of trouble.
Yet.
I run over the rooftop to the other side of the building, staying low and out of sight.
The greenhouse. Somehow, I always end up here on my patrols.
Almost as though I’m drawn toward my brother’s favorite place, taking any opportunity I can find to check on him and observe how he’s doing.
Even if I can do it only from a distance now.
My chest hurts when I think about Nils, but I push it down along with any lingering regret.
I should be focused on patrol, not personal distractions. Especially after the recent theft. But then I notice the curly head of hair below me as a student hurries back home. Even this far away, recognition rockets through me.
Nils.
My brother is leaving the greenhouse late as usual. I used to escort him home at night to make sure he arrived safely. But that was before. Now Nils moves quickly along the path, his hands tucked into his pockets as he returns to his new home.
I watch until he reaches the brick building covered with climbing ivy. Helga’s house. After separating from Father, Mother took Nils and moved back in with her sister. Both their bedroom windows are illuminated with warm light. There’s a pang in my chest as I watch Nils disappear inside.
Must be my cracked rib again.
I check the time. It’s nearly midnight. Skallagrim is sleeping, and so far, nothing is out of the ordinary. While I survey the campus, my eyelids grow heavy. Exhaustion overcomes me, wrapping around my limbs and weighing me down. I blink furiously, shaking my head. I have to stay sharp.
My boot slips on a shingle. I lose my footing for a moment before righting myself. Sloppy, I can hear Father scolding. Even in my own head, he’s always watching me. Always judging me.
I press my hand into my side, gritting my teeth against the sharp pain that greets me.
Father taught me early on that pain can be a tool.
It keeps you alive. When I was younger—maybe eight or nine—I told him I couldn’t train any longer.
Instead of an answer, Father knocked the back of my legs out with a spear.
Hard. As I fell to my knees, he loomed over me. In battle, there are no breaks.
To Father, everything is a battle.
Wincing, I run along the roof and leap to the next building. Moonlight washes over the rooftops, making my path clear. At least I should be grateful for that.
Movement in the corner of my eye.
I still.
A couple is kissing in the courtyard below, tucked away in the shadows.
The girl giggles, and her partner silences her with another kiss.
My entire body tenses. I already know what Father would do.
Break this up swiftly and send them both back to their dorms. But they don’t pose any threat or seem like they’re in danger, and I really, really don’t want to deal with this tonight.
I clear my throat, averting my gaze.
Romance is nothing more than a distraction.
Briefly, Edith and her welcoming smile comes to mind.
Not like I have time for a relationship anyway, between training and hunting.
I barely have time to rest. Father always thought Val and I would end up together.
He said she’d be a suitable partner with whom to carry on the hunter’s legacy one day.
He urged me not to make the same mistake he did in marrying someone soft like my mother.
Val is a fine hunter, but she’s only interested in girls.
And I’m not interested in her like that anyway.
She’s my closest friend. My only one, and—
A scream pierces the night.
My body goes rigid. Alert. That sounded nearby.
I’m already moving, racing in that direction. I don’t slow. Don’t stop. That wasn’t any ordinary scream. It was the kind that shreds my insides. It sounded like Nils’s screams that would wake me in the middle of the night when I was younger. The kind full of primal terror—
There.
A girl lies in the courtyard ahead. Another girl is standing over her.
Run faster, Amund! My boots pound over the ground as I race toward them, reaching for my weapon, ready to pull it in a split second if necessary. As I get closer, I recognize the second girl’s short platinum hair.
Edith.
The girl lying at her feet has had her stomach ripped open.
Disemboweled.
The wounds inflicted are raw and primal, not clean and efficient. It’s the work of an animal’s claws. Flesh shredded to ribbons. No human is capable of such savagery. Only a berserkr. This is why we hunt them. Why we kill them. Because if we don’t, innocent people will die.
No need to check for a pulse. I’ve seen plenty of death, but I’m still not prepared for it.
My gaze flicks to Edith. At first I can’t tell which she is: prey or predator. She makes no move to run. Frozen in place, she makes no movement at all.
Unlike when we first met, she doesn’t so much as look up at me. Her face remains expressionless as she stares at the mutilated body lying before her. Blood covers both her hands.
Realization punches into me. Edith is no witch.
She’s a berserkr.
How could I have been so wrong? I grab hold of Edith’s arm.
She doesn’t resist me.
I reach for my radio with my free hand. “There’s been an incident on the witch campus.”
Sharp static answers first. Then Father says, “Heading your way.”
I shove the two-way radio away, turning my attention back to Edith. Her clothes are bloody. There’s no evidence of tearing like I’d expect if she’d transformed. No trace of claws, at least not anymore, but her hands are stained red, slick with blood…
Edith isn’t just a berserkr.
She’s a murderer.