Chapter Fifteen Edith
I can’t escape Heightened Senses fast enough. Of course, not only do I have a class with Amund, but we had to partner up. He used our lesson as an excuse to interrogate me. I can’t believe I ever thought he was attractive.
Hurrying down the hall, I double-check my schedule. Thankfully, History of the Sagas is nearby. It must be another school-wide course. Hopefully Amund isn’t taking this one as well.
When I open the door, I’m surprised to see how large the lecture hall is. A giant chandelier made of antlers hangs from the high ceiling. Even more surprising is that Headmistress Helga stands in front of a lectern. Don’t tell me she’s the one teaching this?
“Be seated,” Helga calls with a wave of her hand.
Everyone takes their seats at long, wooden tables that run the length of the room. I don’t recognize anyone—
Nils. He’s sitting in the back, and my chest loosens a little.
At least I have a friend here.
Nils waves at me, motioning to the empty seat beside him.
I look around at the classroom, but only a few eyes remain on me. Most of the students look… bored, almost. Like this is just another normal school. I hurry over to the second-to-last row and take the seat next to Nils.
Helga waits for the last of us to sit down before she turns her attention to the open door.
As soon as she does, the door slams shut with a resounding noise, making me jump.
“Today, we’ll resume our look at Egill’s Saga.
When we left off last class, we were discussing how Egill’s son Boevarr tragically drowned during a storm. ”
As she continues talking, Nils leans over to me. He’s so close, but it feels strangely comfortable.
“So, how’d it go with Helga yesterday?” he whispers.
I shrug. “It… went.”
As much as I want to tell him what happened, I can’t talk about it with Helga right here.
“What about you?” I ask, keeping my voice low. “What did Amund have to say?”
Nils shifts in his seat. “Nothing good. It reminded me why I never talk to him anymore.”
“That bad?”
He nods gravely. “Actually, he tried to warn me away from you.”
I blink a few times, turning in his direction. Great. The last thing I need is Amund going around and telling everyone I’m a killer. Skallagrim was supposed to be a fresh start for me, not more of the same.
“Seriously?” I ask, too loud.
Helga clears her throat, casting me a scathing look before continuing her lecture. “After losing his second son, Egill was consumed with grief. He ended up writing the Sonatorrek, or the irreparable loss of sons, a beautiful skaldic poem lamenting their deaths and berating the god óeinn.”
Someone starts whispering behind us. “Psst, argr.”
I turn around to see a student dressed in leather, so it’s not hard to guess he’s a hunter like Amund. He waves at me before pointing at Nils, like he wants me to get his attention for him.
“Um, I think someone wants to talk to you,” I whisper.
Nils nudges my elbow and shakes his head before sliding me a piece of paper. His writing is small. Neat. Writing is probably better. Helga will kick us out if we keep talking.
I grab my pen and quickly write back, Right. Good idea.
Nils takes the paper. Amund said Emilía died. He thinks you killed her.
I press the tip hard to the page. I didn’t. Not knowing what else to add, I slide him the piece of paper.
Nils reads, his brow scrunching. I study his expression, waiting to see how he responds. He turns to me, our eyes locking. I believe you, he writes. I don’t think you would do something like that.
Relief fills me.
“Hey, argr,” the hunter whispers more loudly behind us.
What does that mean? I jot down to Nils.
He shakes his head and scribbles: Ignore him. Dorian always does this when he’s bored.
I do my best to ignore the hunter—Dorian, I guess—and lean closer to Nils, writing out a response: I want to find out who killed Emilía, but Helga will expel me if I investigate.
Nils quickly writes back without hesitation. I’ll help you.
After a moment, I write: Really?
Nils nods, determined. Emilía was my friend.
The weight I’ve been carrying around since last night lifts a little.
At least now I have a friend in this with me.
If Nils is one of the only other people who knows about what really happened, his help will be invaluable.
Especially since he was close with Emilía and a witch.
He might even know what the symbol I saw means.
Amund wasn’t any help. He wouldn’t even cooperate with me on our assignment in Reading the Runes.
I draw the three interlocking triangles and write under them: Have you seen this symbol before?
Nils leans closer, peering at the paper. His brow furrows, and he shakes his head. It’s not a stave or a rune—staves are more complex than that, while runes are simpler. Why? What is it?
Sighing, I write back. No idea. So where do we start?
Nils considers for a moment, tapping his pen against the paper. We should talk to her roommate, Irina, once class is over.
A wad of paper hits him in the back of the head and falls to the floor.
Sighing, Nils goes to grab it, but before he can, I scoop it up. As I smooth it out on the desk, I see ???? written in a messy scrawl. Nils winces. I lean over and whisper as quietly as I can, “What does this mean?”
“Nothing.”
Looking at him, I can clearly tell it isn’t nothing. A frown pulls at his lips and a crease appears between his brows. When people say he looks like a wounded puppy, I guess this is what they mean.
“Tell me,” I whisper back.
“It’s dumb,” Nils says, reaching for the paper.
I take my pen and write below the runes: What is that supposed to mean?
Then I crumple the paper and turn around, tossing it at Dorian.
He dodges and catches it with his left hand, grinning the whole time.
I growl at him. “Leave Nils alone.”
Helga clears her throat loudly.
Nils is her nephew. Shouldn’t she do something about this? I turn around, tapping my pen on the desk impatiently. Funny how Helga said nothing about the harassment that’s continued all class, but as soon as I do something, she’s paying attention.
While Helga continues her lecture, Dorian chucks the paper ball at Nils again. My hand shoots out on instinct, and I catch it before it can hit the back of Nils’s head. I blink a few times in surprise before unfurling the ball.
Unmanly.
Nils grabs it from my hands and quickly crumples it up. “I told you, it’s nothing,” he mutters, his face red with humiliation. “I’m used to it. It doesn’t bother me anymore, Edith.”
“Except it clearly does.”
My stomach squeezes as he blushes harder. Nils didn’t want to make a big deal of it so I wouldn’t find out what argr means.
Bea did the same thing when she was bullied.
One day, I caught her taking a pair of scissors to her auburn hair.
When I grabbed her hand, she said, What?
I want short hair like you, Edith. I frowned at her.
My hair is only short because I bleach it so much.
Your hair is so long and pretty. Just like Mom’s, I didn’t say.
Bea looked up at me with tears in her eyes.
I hate my hair. Everyone at school calls me a ginger.
Even though I told Patricia about it, it didn’t seem like enough.
I wanted to hurt every last one of her classmates for hurting my sister.
For making her hate our mom’s auburn hair when I wish I had it too.
My chest suddenly feels tight, and it’s hard to breathe.
Nils doesn’t deserve this either. Why are the nicest kids always bullied?
As I look down at my hands, my claws begin to emerge. Shit. I can’t lose control here—especially not in front of Helga. She warned me I have to take my studies seriously or I won’t be welcome at Skallagrim.
Breathing heavily, I try to rein my anger in. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to calm down. As I look at my long, pale claws, all I can see are the slashes that covered Emilía. The scratches covering the door of my parents’ bedroom.
My mom lying there.
Tears burn my eyes, but I blink them away quickly.
Nils studies me intently.
Great. I do my best to hide my claws.
To my surprise, he reaches out for my hand and captures it in his. His touch startles me—until I realize he’s helping conceal my claws.
Nils leans over close enough to whisper in my ear. “It’s okay, Edith. You’re okay. Just breathe.”
He’s right. I’m fine. Everything is fine. I try to focus on my breathing, in and out, in and out. The gentle weight of his hand on mine helps ground me.
I’m grateful Nils is sitting beside me and not his brother.
If Amund ever saw me like this, I don’t know what he would do.
At least Nils believes I’m not a killer.
My claws slice into my palms. I’m not a killer.
Even if I could still be deadly.
I wait until everyone leaves the lecture hall before I check my hands. My claws are gone. Thank God. A relieved sigh escapes me as I stuff my notebook back into my bag.
Nils is looking at me with a frown. “You’re bleeding.”
“Hm?” I glance down.
Blood wells in both my palms. I stare down in disbelief. Normally, the most my nails leave behind are bright red crescents. But these weren’t nails. I wince. These were claws.
“Luckily for you, I carry around a first aid kit,” Nils says, removing a bag from his backpack. He hesitates a moment. “May I?”
When I nod, Nils gently cleans my wounds. “I’m sorry, you hurt yourself because of me. You didn’t have to get mad on my behalf. Really.”
“Of course I did,” I tell him, and I mean it. “What Dorian was saying is bullshit.”
“I’m used to it.” Nils starts slowly wrapping gauze around my palm. He won’t even look at me. “Dorian has been calling me that since I became a witch. That doesn’t bother me. What bothers me is my dad used to call me it too.”
“What?” I ask, unable to hide my surprise. “Your dad talks to you like that?”
“He’s done a lot worse,” Nils admits quietly.
My stomach sinks. I stare at the gauze as he wraps it around my other palm once. Twice. He seems familiar with treating injuries, like he’s done this a lot. I hate his dad for ever hurting him.
Almost as much as I hate my own.
“My dad wanted both his sons to be hunters like him,” Nils continues while tending to me. “But I’m not strong or fast or violent enough. It didn’t matter how good I was at magic. Dad didn’t give a shit about that. I could never live up to his expectations.” He frowns. “Not like Amund.”
I press my lips together. I know all too well what that feels like, albeit for different reasons. Bea is everything Jim and Patricia could want in a daughter. She fits in so easily wherever she goes, in ways I never could. She’s perfect without even trying, unlike me.
“It was hard growing up,” Nils continues. “Knowing I was never good enough. Feeling like I had to earn his love. But no matter how hard I tried, or what I achieved, he always shunned me. He always made me feel worthless. For a long time, I believed I was.”
“I’m sorry,” I finally manage to say. “You deserved better.”
His fingers rest on my skin. “Thank you, Edith.”
When I look up, Nils is gazing at me intently. He’s looking at me like he’s seeing me for the first time.
The bell chimes, too loud in my ears.
I clear my throat. “Should we go find Irina?”
“Yeah. Good idea.” Nils sounds a little disappointed, but I can’t figure out why.
Once he tucks the first aid kit away in his backpack, we leave the auditorium behind us and head outside. Rain drizzles from a gray sky, and plenty of students rush to their extracurriculars or the dining hall.
“I forgot my umbrella.”
Nils whips an umbrella out from his backpack. “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t.”
“Jeez, you’re prepared for everything, aren’t you?” A laugh escapes me. I’m grateful for it as I join him under his umbrella and we walk through the quad. “Do you know where Irina—”
“Boo!” Someone gives my backpack a sharp tug.
Trying to pull free, I whirl around—
And accidentally knock Bea over.
She stares up at me, sprawled on the wet walkway, her lip wobbling. “E-Edith?”
“Shit, Bea. Don’t surprise me like that!”
But I’m not angry at Bea. I’m angry at myself. How many times did I see Dad shove Mom to the ground? My body starts trembling. No, no, no. I didn’t mean to do it. The walk is slippery, and she surprised me, and…
“It was an accident,” I say quickly. “I would never—”
My voice dies on my lips. Now I sound just like Dad too.
I stand there, frozen. With my berserkr strength, I could have really hurt her.
Nils helps Bea up. “You all right?”
She nods like it’s already been forgotten. “My butt is a little sore, that’s all.”
I throw my arms around her. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, really.” She hugs me, patting my back. “I’m fine.”
I release her, looking her over to make sure.
“See?” Nils offers, holding his umbrella over us. “She’s unharmed.”
For now, I think. If there’s a killer at Skallagrim, Bea is in danger too.
I don’t care what Helga says.
“Listen to me.” I grab hold of her shoulders. “You have to be careful, Bea. A berserkr is going around—”
“Duh,” Bea says with an eye roll. “Skallagrim is full of them.”
Nils glances between us uncertainly. “That’s not quite what your sister means.”
I sigh, shaking my head. “Someone was attacked—”
“Bea!” a group of younger girls calls out, waving wildly.
“I have to go. See you later!” Bea runs off to join her friends, completely unconcerned about the rain.
“You okay?” Nils asks, looking me over.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
My stomach slowly sinks as I watch Bea giggling with her new friends while they all get wet. She doesn’t get how serious this is, how dangerous berserkir are. But I can’t bring myself to tell her the truth about how our parents died, either. If she knew, she’d never be able to laugh like this.
I can’t take that innocence away from her.
Bea is the only family I have left. When she surprised me, I almost hurt her accidentally. If I ever injured her, I would never forgive myself. Until I can get myself under control, I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to be around her.
I have to protect Bea.
Even if I’m the one she needs protection from.