Chapter Twenty-Five Edith
I stare down at the vial of truth-teller potion, sloshing the contents around.
More than half is left. Nils said the full thing would be enough for an hour, which means I’ll have at most thirty minutes now if Isaac does show.
Judging from how Amund is talking, at least I know it works.
The tea Helga gave me before must have been diluted.
Hopefully he hasn’t figured out what he drank or I could get expelled.
Amund sits stiffly across the table from me. His jaw is tight, his body full of tension, but he’s made no mention of the truth-teller potion. The plan can still work, even if there’s been an unexpected complication.
I doubt Isaac and Tala will join me if I’m with a hunter. As much as I’d love for Amund to hear Isaac’s confession, I have to figure out a way to get rid of him. Somehow.
Leaving isn’t an option either, since Isaac and Tala will hopefully be arriving any time now. Even if they’re very, very late. I glance at the clock. The dining hall must be closing soon.
What am I going to do if they don’t show?
“So, what door did you see?” I ask, trying to get rid of Amund. If he’s anything like me, he would rather run away than discuss that.
“The door Nils and my mother left through.” His throat bobs. “They never came back. They live with Helga now. While I’m sitting here, they’re probably eating dinner together as a family.” He forces the words out begrudgingly, like it’s the last thing he ever wanted to admit.
But he did. Because of the truth-teller potion.
Tension stretches taut between us.
Suddenly, I feel bad for asking him something so vulnerable. He was supposed to get up and leave, not actually answer me. This isn’t fair of me. I should share something with him, too.
“Family dinners weren’t really a thing when I was growing up,” I offer quietly.
“Dad was either gone at work or storming out after a fight. Mom would be lying in her bed, too busy crying to eat, so I’d end up pouring us some cereal or making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for both of us.
Otherwise Mom probably wouldn’t have eaten for days. ”
Amund frowns. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I say quickly.
My therapist would probably point out that I’m minimizing feelings right now, but I can’t help it. The sympathetic look in Amund’s eyes makes me so uncomfortable. I said more than I should have. I don’t even know why I did. It’s not like I drank the potion.
“I’ve had plenty of family dinners with my foster parents,” I add, trying to lighten the mood. “We ate dinner together every night, whether I wanted to or not.”
A small laugh escapes me. I always resented how Patricia made such a big deal of eating together, like she wanted to show off what a good homemaker she is or prove to me that we’re a family.
Maybe that’s what family actually is: the people you choose to spend your time with, not just those who share your blood.
“You must miss Nils and your mom,” I add, thinking of Patricia and Jim.
“I do,” he admits. “But that doesn’t matter anymore.”
The pain in his voice sounds a bit like an invitation. It must be the truth-teller potion, but Amund seems softer somehow, a little more open. As much as I hate to admit it, some part of me is drawn to him. I want to know more about him. Apparently he knows a lot about me.
“Why not?” I ask gently.
“Because Nils hates me.”
At a nearby table, the berserkr students stand, eying us as they carry their trays by. They’re looking at me like I have a death wish to be sitting with a hunter.
How long have Amund and I been talking for? I check the clock on the wall. Somehow it’s already been fifteen minutes. The dining hall will be closing soon, yet Isaac and Tala still haven’t shown up.
I wait until the berserkr students are gone before I continue. “I think Nils misses you, too.”
“He’s better off without me,” Amund says, avoiding eye contact. “They both are.”
He must genuinely believe that, or he wouldn’t be able to say it. Why would he think that? He clearly cares about Nils, and having someone like Amund on your side, well… it wouldn’t be the worst thing.
I fall silent, not knowing what I can possibly say.
To my surprise, Amund continues on his own.
“I could have gone with them, but I chose my father instead. I couldn’t leave him too.
My father is… a complicated man. He’s the strongest person I know, the best hunter, and I’ve wanted to be like him since I was little.
Sure, he can be demanding, but it’s only because he has high expectations.
He’s hard on me, but he’s even harder on himself. ”
The way that Amund talks about it sounds like a trauma bond.
Something that countless therapists have explained to me about my mom.
I understand it in theory. Sort of. But I’d be lying if I said I understood why she stayed for so long with someone who abused her, or how she could love someone who hurt her.
Licking my lips, I ask quietly, “Why couldn’t you leave?”
“Because I love him.” Amund glances away.
“No matter how he treats me, I know he loves me back. He’s only hard on me because I’m his son and he wants the best for me.
And it isn’t all bad. There are plenty of good times, too.
My father isn’t a man of empty words. When he tells you something, he means it.
And when he’s proud of you? There’s no better feeling in the world. ”
Is that how Mom felt too?
“I never understood why my mom didn’t leave my dad,” I admit.
“I guess it must have been like that for her, too. When they were fighting, they seemed like the last two people on earth who should be together. Screaming. Punching walls. You name it. But there were also times they seemed really happy. My dad would surprise her with flowers or expensive jewelry or a vacation or something, and things would seem good for a while. Great, even. The problem was, it never lasted.”
By the time I finish, that pesky lump in my throat is back again.
Amund stands. At first I think he’s going to leave, but he takes the seat next to me instead. Great. Instead of driving him away, I only brought him closer.
He reaches for my face, only to stop.
Amund hesitates before asking, “May I?”
Why does it feel like he’s asking for permission to kiss me?
I look him over like I’m seeing him for the first time.
Sitting this close, I realize just how broad his shoulders are.
How strong his arms look. How much I really wouldn’t mind it if he were to kiss me.
At least with Amund, I wouldn’t have to worry about feelings forming on either side.
He’s a hunter. I’m a berserkr. We’re completely incompatible.
Forcing myself to swallow, I manage to nod. “Yeah.”
Instead of kissing me, Amund reaches for my face, brushing something wet away with his thumb. His touch is startlingly gentle for someone who hunts my kind.
“Don’t cry.” When he speaks, his voice is rough. “I hate seeing you sad.”
When did I start crying? I blink, feeling the wetness along my lashes, but another tear rolls down my cheek. Amund wipes it away again. His hand lingers longer this time, cupping the side of my face.
“Sorry,” I say hoarsely. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Nothing is wrong with you.”
His earnest words send warmth spreading through me.
Barely a breath separates us.
My gaze lowers to his lips. Is Amund a rough kisser?
He looks like he would be. Finding out would be a bad idea, right?
But right now I can think of few things I want more.
I want those strong arms wrapped around me, not to capture me but to keep me close.
I want to feel his lips press hard against mine.
I want that familiar rush of dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin.
I want to feel good.
Before I can kiss him, the lights in the cafeteria cut out.
We’re left side by side in sudden darkness.
“Do they just… turn off the lights when the dining hall closes?” I ask in disbelief.
“No,” Amund says stiffly. “Stay here. I’m going to find out what happened.”
“Okay,” I tell him. “Be careful.”
He gives me a look like I’m being ridiculous, and then he leaves.
While I wait, I look around the darkened cafeteria, letting my eyes adjust. The world starts to brighten, taking on an ambient glow.
Still no sign of Isaac or Tala anywhere.
Two girls studying nearby quickly close their books and rush outside.
I’m left sitting in absolute silence. A shudder traces down my spine as I look around the empty dining hall. No one else is here. So why are the little hairs on my arm standing on end? It feels like something is close by. Or someone.
“Isaac?” I call out weakly.
A pair of glowing eyes opens in the darkness, staring straight at me.
Everything happens at once.
A wolf lunges at me.
The vial slips from my fingers and shatters on the floor.
Screaming, I scramble away from the table as claws slice the wood.
I have to get out of here—but the berserkr is between me and the main door.
It’s the same one that chased me through the seer school.
The killer stands on his hind legs, his misshapen body silhouetted against the glow of the exit sign.
I run in the opposite direction, feet flying through the empty dining hall. There’s another door on the far side.
The killer follows me, taking his time.
I burst through the door.
Now I’m in the kitchen, no exit sign in sight.
I can hear the creature getting closer. Closer.
He must have known where this door led. He must have known I’d be trapped.
A shaggy silhouette appears in the door window before I duck behind one of the long kitchen counters.
Hopefully he didn’t see me, but I’m not so sure.
The killer walks into the kitchen, his claws scraping the floor with each step.