Chapter Twelve Amund
As soon as Edith disappears into Helga’s office, my brother turns his back on me. I reach for his shoulder but quickly stop myself. “Wait. Please, it will only take a minute. I have to tell you something important.”
Nils clearly wants nothing to do with me. “What is it?”
The hatred in his voice stings like a slap.
One that I deserve.
“Stay away from Edith,” I warn him, lowering my voice. “She’s dangerous.”
“Dangerous? Coming from you? That’s rich.” He lets out a small, disbelieving laugh, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “If that’s all, I’m leaving.”
Nils won’t listen to me. I have to make him.
“There was an attack,” I whisper harshly. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but you need to know who you’re spending time with.”
Nils pauses. “An attack?”
“Keep your voice down.” I glance at Helga’s closed door. “A girl is dead, Nils. And Edith is responsible. That’s why Helga wanted to speak with her. You have to be careful. You don’t know what she’s capable of.”
“Who was it?” he asks slowly. “Who died?”
I pause. “A witch. I believe her name was Emilía.”
His eyes shoot wide. “What? Emilía? I know her, she’s… she was my friend.” Nils blinks a few times, like he’s trying to make sense of what I said. “That’s not possible. We just gave Edith a tour the other day.” He rubs his face. “Are you sure it was Edith?”
“Not yet.” The file I stole should help, but I can’t mention that to him. I’m sure he’d tell Helga I broke into her office. Warning him about the attack is probably a mistake, but I won’t stand back and watch while Nils is in danger. Not this time.
“I saw Edith,” I add, my sense of urgency rising. “Her hands were covered in blood.” I take a step closer. “Our first attack in years happens as soon as she arrives at Skallagrim? You’re the smart one. You must realize the likelihood of that.”
Nils shakes his head, his curly hair swaying. “No, you’re wrong. Edith isn’t like that. She’s been nothing but nice to me.” His gaze locks with mine, his brown eyes fierce. “Unlike you and Dad.”
“Nils, please,” I say. “She’s dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Nils scoffs. “A little late for that, don’t you think?”
His words hit me like a blow to the stomach.
I fight to find something to say. Nothing seems like enough.
I clench my teeth, trapping any pointless apology I could offer.
I should have seen what was going on earlier.
I should have recognized that Father’s brutal treatment of Nils went beyond the training ground. I should have stopped it.
I should have done a lot of things.
Instead I hesitated.
I always hesitate.
“Does Dad even know you’re talking to me?” Nils asks.
Another blow. If Father knew I was speaking to him, especially about this, I don’t know what would happen. I shake my head stiffly. “Of course not.”
“You should leave, then,” Nils says flatly. “Before we’re seen together.”
He tries, but fails, to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Before I can respond, Nils turns and heads down the hall like he can’t wait to get away from me. It takes everything in me not to follow him. I didn’t know, I want to call after him, but it won’t make any difference.
Excuses don’t matter. Only actions do.
When it mattered most, I did nothing.
My limbs turn leaden. I have to lean against the wall for support. Father is right. I can’t do anything correctly. I revealed a secret I swore not to—and for what? Nils won’t listen. He’s going to get himself killed. I smack my palm against the wall in frustration.
I’m a damned fool.
I press my forehead against the wall. Focus, Amund. I can’t lose my cool or let my emotions get the better of me. If Nils won’t listen to me, then I have to make sure Edith does. I can’t hesitate this time. If I do, my brother could be next. I won’t let Nils become her victim.
I don’t care what I have to do.
Even if it means waiting for her outside Helga’s office like a dog. Quieting my thoughts, I strain to listen, hoping I can catch some of the conversation happening inside. Even with my heightened senses, I can’t hear—
The door opens, jolting me.
Edith walks out into the hall, rubbing her hands down her arms nervously. I narrow my eyes, trying to get a read on her. She’s clearly agitated. Her conversation with Helga must not have gone well. Hopefully she’s been expelled. She deserves to be locked up, but it’s a start.
Until she’s gone, I need to make sure she doesn’t go anywhere near Nils.
I block her path. “Stay away from my brother.”
Edith looks at me with such disdain, it’s impossible to believe she ever smiled at me. When we first met, she seemed friendly and kind, so unlike any hunter. I thought there could be something there.
Now her full lips turn into a scowl. “I don’t take orders.”
“It’s not an order,” I say, voice rough. “It’s a warning.”
“Whatever.”
Edith goes to push past me, dismissing me.
A mistake.
I back her against the wall. My arms shoot out on either side of her, caging her in. Edith peers up at me, searching my face in alarm.
Her gray eyes are the color of a stormy sky. This close, I can make out flecks of brown, too, the same shade as the harsh terrain beyond Skallagrim’s gates. Edith is like the Wilds. Beautiful but dangerous.
“What do you want?” she asks, breathless.
My gaze lowers to her mouth. All I can think of is how soft those lips of hers look. What they might feel like against mine, if everything were different. If she weren’t who she is. If I weren’t who I am. I lean in, catching a faint whiff of her floral perfume.
It doesn’t matter what I want.
All that matters is what I have to do.
“I know you killed Emilía.” I bring my face closer to hers. Centimeters separate us. “So listen carefully, Edith, because this is the only warning I’ll give you.” I whisper against her ear. “Hurt my brother, and I will hunt you down.”
I head straight for Father’s office next.
As I’m walking through the halls, I can’t get Edith off my mind.
There has to be something in her file, something that can help us get her expelled.
I pull out her stolen file and flip through the pages as I go.
I’m far enough from Helga’s office now that anyone who sees me reading will assume it’s schoolwork.
A detailed history of her upbringing. Apparently Edith and her sister stayed with an uncle first, but that didn’t work out. I grip the folder tighter. He’d recently gone through a divorce, and then losing his sister… the other Helga made notes about alcohol usage and concern for the girls’ safety.
I dismiss a swell of sympathy and keep reading.
After their uncle’s, the sisters went into foster care.
So Edith not only lost her parents, but she was also nearly separated from her sister. I swallow past the lump in my throat. She’s the oldest child too. Shouldn’t Edith understand that I just want to protect my brother? Wouldn’t she do the same for Beatrice?
The more I read, the more I realize all we have in common.
We’re both killers.
Unlike her, you kill to protect people, I remind myself.
When I flip the next page, it’s all handwritten. Detailed notes and observations about Edith. These must have been recorded by the other Helga.
Edith intellectualizes her emotions rather than feels them.
They must be too overwhelming, so she tries to repress them, just as she tries to repress what she witnessed as a child.
She gets uncomfortable anytime it’s brought up or something triggers a memory.
I strongly suspect she has post-traumatic stress disorder.
Edith seems to be doing much better with her new foster family. She’s focused on her grades, on getting into a good college, and doesn’t drink or use drugs. Her foster parents are concerned about her, though. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t too.
She continues to experience debilitating migraines. They could be caused by PTSD or by suppressing her berserkr nature. I can only hope it is the former. If she inherited her father’s ability, then…
I squeeze the papers, wishing I’d read this before I confronted—no, I can’t let myself think like that. It doesn’t matter who she is or what she’s been through. A killer is still a killer.
Looking up from the page, I realize I’ve already reached Father’s office. He needs to see this as soon as possible. I snap the file shut and push open the door.
Father is seated at his desk, reading through some reports.
I drop the thick file in front of him with a heavy thud. “It’s done.”
Father looks from the papers to me. “What is this?”
“Edith’s file.”
He steeples his fingers. “Did I ask you to steal it?”
I stiffen at his tone. “No, you asked me to break into Helga’s office to look at them. Before I could finish, she returned. I had no choice—”
“You had no choice?” His voice rises with each word. “Now Helga will realize her file is missing.”
Once again, I can’t do anything right. I clench my hands into fists. Not only that, but Nils and Edith saw me outside the headmistress’s office. It won’t be hard for Helga to figure out who took it. “Should I return the file?”
Father gives me a disbelieving look but doesn’t bother with a response. Instead, he reaches for the file and begins to flip through it.
He frowns. “Her surname is Holden?”
“That’s right. Her younger sister, Beatrice, is here as well.”
The crease in his forehead deepens. “So Henry is their father.”
“Was,” I correct. “Did you know him?”
“Henry Holden attended Skallagrim when I did,” Father says. “He was one of the berserkir involved in the Tragedy. He left the school not long after.”
Right. There was something about him among Helga’s files.
A complaint that the Holdens lodged with the school, saying their son Henry was worse off after he returned.
If he witnessed—or worse, took part in—the Tragedy, that would explain why.
But if Henry killed someone while berserk, what does it say about him that he was still able to transform back? Most berserkir can’t.