Chapter Twenty-Seven Edith
Yellow eyes open in the darkness of my dreams. Fur flashes as I hit the floor. I feel teeth. Claws. Sudden, sharp pain. The taste of blood on my tongue, like a mouthful of copper wool.
Only this time, Amund isn’t there.
The attack doesn’t stop. Teeth rip into my throat, tearing and biting viciously. Hot blood pumps out of me, steaming in the cold. Awful, sloppy wet sounds fill my ears. I can feel everything as I’m devoured. Bones cracking. Splitting. Unbearable agony.
I sit straight up, soaked with sweat.
Fur brushes my skin like a nightmare come to life. Breathing hard, I kick out instinctively—it’s only my fur blanket. Even though I need to keep warm, I can’t stomach having that touch me right now.
A loud knock rings out, making me jump.
When I open the door, Bea is standing there, wearing a sweater covered with stars, jeans, and her favorite UGG boots. She launches herself at me, throwing her arms around my waist. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” Bea nuzzles against me. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Don’t worry.” I pat her head gently. “I’m fine. See?”
Guilt squeezes me even tighter than she does. What would it have done to Bea if I had died? I know how badly it can fuck you up to lose someone you love, especially to violence. At first I was in shock. Nothing seemed real. Then came the tears.
Then I got angry.
I never want Bea to have to lose herself to such debilitating rage.
I was furious at Dad for what he did. Furious at Mom for letting his abuse continue for so long.
Furious at everyone for not helping her.
Furious at myself for… everything. The only way I learned to live with it was to push it down—and to focus on taking care of Bea.
She pulls back, pouting. “You’d better be.”
“I am. Promise.” I offer her a small smile. “You didn’t tell Jim and Patricia about what happened, did you?”
Bea shakes her head. “Helga told me not to.”
“Good. Don’t.” The last thing I want is them finding out about this. They could pull us out of Skallagrim before I learn to control myself.
Bea stares at my lip.
Instead of wincing like I expect, she grins.
“Wicked wound,” she says approvingly. “I want one.”
“Don’t even joke about it.” I crouch down to her level. I can never tell if she’s being serious or not. “You have to be careful, okay? Skallagrim isn’t safe.”
“I know.” Bea frowns. “Everyone’s talking about it.”
As I study her face, her cheeks are bright, rosy pink. Her auburn hair is braided carelessly. Her eyes sparkle. I won’t lose her or, worse, allow anything to happen to her. I never want her to have to go through what I did. I clench my teeth tight enough to crack them.
Isaac has to be stopped.
“Brought you something,” Nils calls from outside my dorm this evening.
I sit up in bed, grateful he’s back. Without classes to go to, I’ve been cooped up in this room all day while I recover.
I’m starting to feel like a caged animal, trapped with nothing but my own thoughts and fears as I relive the attack.
So I’ve been practicing summoning my claws, determined to learn how to control this ability.
“Come in,” I say, not wanting to get up. I’ve practically become one with the bed at this point. I don’t want to leave its comfort and face the reality of what happened. At least in bed I feel safe.
The knob twists, and Nils grunts. “I can’t open it.”
Right. “Sorry, one sec.” I climb out of bed and move the chair I’d lodged underneath the handle as an added layer of protection after Bea left. I’ve been on edge since the attack. Every sound makes me jump. I pull the door open to reveal Nils standing there with a bowl of steaming soup.
“Thought you might be hungry,” he says, carrying the bowl over to my desk.
My stomach grumbles loudly in response. “How’d you know?”
Nils laughs. “Just a hunch.”
I take a seat, grabbing the spoon and inhaling the warm, savory aroma. “Thank you,” I say, turning toward Nils. “This smells amazing.”
“It’s kjotsúpa. Lamb soup is my favorite. I thought you could use some, and you’ll actually be able to eat it.”
I help myself to a spoonful, careful to avoid the right side of my lip where my wound is.
It’s salty and delicious, a blending of hearty lamb and vegetables.
I help myself to more, suddenly starved.
Each sip warms me from within. I haven’t been able to eat much since the attack.
Opening my mouth too wide is painful, and it’s easy to get food in the wound.
“Just what I needed,” I tell Nils.
“I made it for you myself.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sure it’s nowhere near as good as my mom’s, but I’m happy you like it.”
“It’s delicious,” I say, savoring another spoonful.
Nils averts his gaze, blushing. He walks around my room, checking the fireplace is full of wood and picking up the fur blankets from the floor. “You dropped these.”
My fingers tighten around the spoon. “I don’t need them.”
“You don’t want to get a chill.” He lays the furs out over the bed. “We want to avoid a fever or any sign of infection while you’re recovering.”
A lump forms in my throat. “It just… reminds me of what happened.”
I can still feel the weight of the massive wolf on top of me, still feel the press of its claws, still see the sheen of its bloody teeth. I put the spoon down, no longer hungry.
“Right. Of course.” Nils tucks the furs under the bed, out of sight. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” I get up and face him. “I never should have gotten you involved in this.”
Nils shakes his head, rising to his full height, so we’re almost at eye level with each other. “You didn’t. I chose to. And I don’t regret it. I want to help you, Edith, if only you’ll let me.”
My chest loosens a little. “I know. Thank you.”
“Your lip is looking better.” Nils hesitates before asking, “May I?”
When I nod, he removes a tin from his pocket and dips a finger into the ointment. He leans closer, gently rubbing the wound, his face far too close to mine. Nils has been nothing but nice to me. So why do I feel uncomfortable?
“That should do it,” Nils says, glancing at the excess ointment on his fingertip. Rather than wipe it off on his pants like I expect him to do, he slowly takes his finger and traces my mouth, a longing expression on his face. “Your lips are dry. You should be drinking more, Edith.”
I put some distance between us. “I know, it’s just difficult without a straw.”
“I’ll see if I can get one for you,” Nils says, averting his gaze quickly. “Your lip is healing nicely, though. It shouldn’t be much longer until it’s fully closed up. Want to see?”
I force myself to nod. I’ve been avoiding my reflection, since it triggers a panic attack whenever I see my lip and think about what else could have happened. I keep hoping this is just another nightmare I’ll wake from.
I still haven’t.
Approaching the mirror, I brace myself to see the large gap where part of my upper lip should be, the raw red flesh split open. Instead, the hole has mostly been closed over by a yellow-whitish scab.
“Mouths are actually one of the areas to heal fastest,” Nils says nervously, “because of the amount of blood there. The magical salve helps too.”
I guess I should be grateful.
The attack could’ve ripped off my lips or my nose.
I always took my face for granted. That it belonged to me.
Our face is there every time we see our reflections, in every photograph—so much of our identity is wrapped up in it.
And the fact it can change in an instant without warning is…
terrifying. Kind of like going berserk. At least my face is still intact, even if my lips will never look the same.
All things considered, the wound is healing fast.
Somehow, I doubt the trauma will go away as quickly.
A week later, Tala hands me a pile of papers, the edges ripped. “A peace offering. I made copies of all my notes while you’ve been out. I thought they might be helpful.”
“Thanks,” I say, accepting them from her.
Tala glances at my lip. “It’s not as bad as I expected.”
“It’s healing quickly.”
She looks around my dorm room. “I’m sorry we never showed up last week,” she adds quickly. “I know I said we’d meet you, but Isaac was ignoring me. He’s been having a hard time with everything, and then I forgot to text you. I feel like what happened is my fault.”
“This isn’t your fault,” I say slowly. “It’s Isaac’s.”
“Isaac?” Tala raises an eyebrow.
“You didn’t show up, but he did.”
“No he didn’t.” Tala shakes her head in frustration. “He hasn’t left his room since I told him about Emilía. He won’t even talk to me. He’s really devastated, and I didn’t even mention that you think he killed her.”
Or Amund injured him, and that’s why he’s been missing class.
“You think Isaac cares about Emilía that much?” I ask her slowly.
Tala nods. Even if he really did care, it doesn’t mean he didn’t kill her. He’s a berserkr. He could have attacked her in a rage—just like my dad.
“Doesn’t that bother you?” I ask.
“Not at all,” Tala says. “He’s my best friend. Honestly, I’m only with Isaac because it’s what my parents want from me. It’s… complicated. Speaking of which, I have to bring him his notes too.” She closes the door behind her.
It’s pointless trying to argue with Tala about this. She’s too close to Isaac. If I want to prove he’s guilty, I’ll have to do it myself.
I set her notes down on my desk and stare out the window.
Someone outside gives me pause.
Amund is standing in a corner of the courtyard with his arms folded, glaring as he surveys the students passing by.
He’s extremely conspicuous, standing out in the open like he is, and people are moving around him, careful to keep their distance from him, like he’s radiating a dangerous energy. What is he doing here?
I linger a moment, studying him from the safety of my room. With that menacing expression, no wonder everyone is avoiding him. A hunter among berserkir is almost a threat, especially since he’s still wearing his battle leathers. Is he trying to start a fight?
Even so, something draws me to him.
Some small part of me might be curious what he’s doing outside my dorm. He couldn’t be… worried about me, could he?
I shake my head. No, that’s ridiculous. More likely he’s here to find the berserkr responsible for the attack—and Emilía’s murder. Cooped up like this, I have no idea what’s been going on. I should tell him I know who did it.
Even though it’s my first time going out in nearly a week, I leave my room. I’m hesitant to walk around with my lip the way it is, feeling like everyone is going to immediately notice. Part of me wants to hole up in my room and hide from the world forever, but that’s not an option.
Not when Isaac is still out there.
I hurry down the hallway, staying close to the wall, and keep my head down. Unfortunately, once I’m outside, it’s much harder. There are so many students around, and it seems like they’re gawking at me. It makes me feel small. Ashamed.
And the one who did this to me—he could be anywhere. I search the sea of faces, but I don’t see Isaac’s sandy hair nearby. I don’t pick up his scent either.
I cut my way through the crowd, keeping myself as small as possible, until I reach Amund. At least with him, I’ll be safe. The irony of that isn’t lost on me considering he was literally hunting me until recently. But he also saved my life.
Amund’s eyes widen as soon as he sees me. “Edith.” His gaze flicks briefly to my lips. “You’re healing well. I’m glad.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t come here just to check on me, though,” I say, trying to make a joke.
His face doesn’t move, like he has absolutely no sense of humor whatsoever. “I’m looking for someone,” he says seriously.
I sigh. “Yeah, I figured. A berserkr student?”
Now it’s his turn to nod. “One named Isaac came to the clinic after the attack.”
Isaac. I knew it.
Amund continues, “I need to confirm his injuries match the ones I inflicted, but…”
“No one will talk to you,” I finish for him. Actually, no one will even get close to him. There’s a wide perimeter around us. I’m glad for the space, honestly.
He looks defeated. “Yeah.”
“I could help you,” I point out. “I can be your eyes on the inside. I’ve suspected Isaac for a while now. He was seeing Emilía in secret.”
“What?” His body tenses.
“I can help you catch him. Please.”
Amund looks me over with a frown. “No. You’ll be putting yourself in danger, and next time, I might not be there to help you.”
I give a frustrated huff. “You’ll never be able to catch him by yourself.”
“I won’t endanger you,” Amund says, his voice like steel.
My stomach flutters at his protective tone. “As long as Isaac is out there, my little sister is in danger, along with every other girl on this campus.” I hesitate, meeting his dark gaze. “I won’t let that happen again. Next time, I’ll be ready. I’m going to learn how to control my ability. Please.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks.
“Fine,” Amund grits out. “But only if you’ll let me teach you self-defense in the meantime. With your strength, you should be able to protect yourself once you learn how.”
I rub my arms. Amund is offering me something I didn’t even know I needed.
“How soon can we start?” I ask him.
“Tomorrow night, if you’re up for it,” Amund says. “Come by the training grounds after classes.”
I nod. I don’t want to feel that helpless ever again. I thought if I never allowed anyone close, I wouldn’t get hurt. But I know now that isn’t the case. No matter what I do, just being a girl endangers me.
It’s time I learned how to fight back.