Chapter Nineteen Edith #2
At the front of the classroom, a piece of chalk is floating in the air.
What the hell?
I can’t stop staring as the chalk slowly scrapes over the board. It draws a… triangle before moving to the right and drawing another one. My stomach sinks as I watch. A third triangle is drawn lower on the board so it overlaps the other two.
Three large interlocking triangles. Just like the symbol I saw on Emilía. I gulp. Is it some kind of seer symbol? Is that why Amund and Nils had never seen it before?
There’s a noise outside the classroom. Footsteps.
I rush into the hallway. “Emilía?”
Someone—no, something—stands at the other end of the long hall. My vision readjusts to the darkness. I can make out shaggy fur, pointed ears, long claws. A wolf.
No, a berserkr.
But it stands on two feet. It doesn’t look fully animal or human. Its shoulders are too broad, its arms too long and encased in thick fur. I can’t see its face in the shadows—only its glowing eyes fixed on me.
The intercom system crackles to life, making me jump out of my skin. Then the voice I heard earlier screams, “Run!”
I listen.
As I bolt in the other direction, images flash of Emilía, her stomach shredded by claws. Images of my mom, lying on the carpet, covered in blood. The memories propel me, my muscles screaming from effort. I have no idea how to get out of here, but I cannot let the monster catch me. No matter what.
Because I know, somehow I know, that I’ve just seen Emilía’s real killer.
Behind me, the creature drags a claw along the wall. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out all other noise. It sounds like nails against a chalkboard. The killer is… playing with me, I realize.
I have to get out. Somehow. The scraping grows louder. Louder. My breathing is getting heavier, but years of track have prepared me for this. If it comes down to a chase, I can outrun them. I hope.
The creature rounds the corner, letting out a menacing snarl.
Shit.
There has to be another exit somewhere. If I just keep going—
I burst through a set of double doors.
Beyond the doors is a long hallway lined with portraits. Pale faces stare out from the dark paintings, their eyes following me as I run past. My frantic footsteps echo everywhere as I race down the hall and open another set of doors.
Wait. A long hallway of portraits is before me again, seeming to stretch forever.
How the hell did I get back here?
No, this has to be a different one. I take another step, only to see the same faces staring out at me. I-I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. Now I’m all mixed up.
The killer is getting closer. I can’t turn around, so I sprint forward instead. Instinct pushes my feet faster. If something is chasing you, you run. My arms pump as I race to the end of the hall. I don’t stop, don’t slow, as my feet pound over the floor.
I push through the doors—
Only to be staring down the long hallway with portraits again.
Awful realization prickles my skin. If I keep running in this endless loop, eventually I’ll get exhausted. Even I can only run from something for so long. The killer must know it too. He’s wearing me down, toying with me until he can rip me to pieces.
Taking off, arms pumping, I check over my shoulder again—
And slam into something hard like an immovable wall.
No, not something.
Someone.
I look up from the strong chest in front of me and see Amund’s scowling face. Towering over me, he’s as broad as an oak. Relief fills me at the sight of him, even though it shouldn’t. A hunter might be the only thing worse than the killer chasing me.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice low.
I can’t tell him I came here trying to talk to Emilía again, not without revealing we did a séance. It’s forbidden at Skallagrim, and I wouldn’t be the only one in trouble. Irina and Nils would be too.
“Nothing,” I say, my breath heaving as I back away from him.
Amund quickly captures me. A spark shoots through me at the touch of his fingers against my forearm.
“Let me go,” I say. “We have to get the hell out of here.”
“Why?” Amund asks darkly.
“The killer is here.”
His unflinching gaze remains locked on me. “I know.”
I shake my head, frantic. “No, I’m telling you, there’s a berserkr back there. A wolf. A wolf was standing there on two legs, and—”
Amund’s gaze narrows. “Berserkir aren’t bipedal.”
“This one was,” I say. “I saw it myself. Maybe you don’t know as much about berserkir as you think you do.”
“I’ve encountered plenty in the Wilds,” Amund says gruffly. “All quadrupeds.”
All I can think of is when I first saw him—the dead berserkr draped over his horse. “Killed plenty, you mean.”
His lips tighten.
The tension between us pulls taut.
I strain to hear the scrape of claws, or even the rush of footsteps, but there’s nothing. Just the unnatural, creepy silence of the empty school. Seems like the berserkr disappeared as soon as Amund showed up.
I pull my arm free of his grip. Before Amund can grab me again, I push past him and break out into a run. I don’t care what he says. I have to get out of here. I sprint down the hall, shoving through the double doors—
Only to end up right back where I started.
Amund stands there, arms folded across his chest. “Apparently, you’re not going anywhere. Neither of us is.”