Chapter Thirty-One Edith #2
“I see,” I say, suddenly uncomfortable as I search her face. “Thank you, Maeve.”
Wind whistles through the courtyard like a wolf’s howl.
“I appreciate you both being here.” Maeve barely glances at my lip. “Hopefully I’ll see you in class again soon.”
“I’m planning on going back tomorrow,” I tell her.
“Tuesday,” Tala cuts in. “Classes were canceled tomorrow.”
“Right, Tuesday. I’ll definitely be back in class.”
Emilía and Idris are both gone, but Isaac is still out there.
I have to stop him before anyone else dies.
When I reach my Transformation class on Tuesday, the berserkir are already gathered, waiting for Gunnar like usual. My gaze immediately lands on Isaac. Looks like he decided to return today too.
I keep my distance from him. In a group like this, Isaac wouldn’t try anything, would he? I take a deep breath, focusing on the reassuring weight of the dagger at my side. If he does, this time I’ll be ready for him. Even if I can’t go berserk, I can still fight back.
Everyone is wearing their tunics. As I look the other berserkir over, no one seems obviously injured at first glance. I need to see if Isaac’s injuries match what Amund inflicted. We have to confirm that Isaac is the one who attacked me and killed Emilía. And Idris.
But to do that, I’ll have to get close to him first, no matter how much my brain is screaming at me to stay as far away as possible.
So I force myself to approach the group, joining the rest of them.
Tala is standing with Isaac.
I stare at him, taking in how disheveled his hair looks and the dark circles beneath his bloodshot eyes.
The sight of him fills me with fury. Thinking of what he did not only to me but to Maeve and Amund?
Some part of me wants to hurt him. To make him pay.
Swallowing the acid burning the back of my throat, I do my best to smile and pretend like my attacker isn’t standing right in front of me.
“Hey, Edith,” Tala says with a wave. “You sure you’re ready?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie.
Isaac looks me over, wincing when he sees my lip. “Whoa. What happened to you?”
As if you don’t know. He’s taunting me now. I flex my fingers, trying to get myself back under control before I do something foolish. This isn’t like me. Impulsive. Violent.
Or maybe it is.
Maybe I’m more like Dad than I care to admit.
“I was attacked,” I grit out.
“You weren’t the only one,” he says roughly, tugging on the sleeves of his tunic. I can’t get a good look at his arm like this.
“That’s why I’m here,” I add, my focus not leaving Isaac. “I want to learn how to go berserk so I can fight back.”
Before things can escalate further, Gunnar finally shows up.
It’s about time.
He walks in front of the class. “Today, I want you to spar with each other. Your goal is to not go berserk.”
“I thought this was supposed to be Transformation,” Kris mutters.
More students join in, talking loudly over each other.
Gunnar raises his voice. “You need to be in control of your anger. You cannot let it control you. No transforming, not even in the slightest. Now, let’s get started.”
This could be my chance to get close to Isaac.
Even if I’ll have to face off against him and, more important, keep my anger in check while I do.
“Isaac,” I say as he turns to Tala, “do you think maybe I could spar with you?”
Tala shoots him a warning look, but he’s oblivious.
“Sure,” Isaac says, a glint in his eyes.
He takes up an ancient-looking shield and stands opposite me.
His build isn’t as broad as Amund’s, but it’s still sleek and predatory. Staring him down like this, I can feel the anger building inside me already, and we haven’t even started. “Actually,” I say as innocently as I can, “I was hoping you could go first. Show me how it’s done.”
“Yeah, of course,” Isaac says, offering me the shield.
When I take it from him, he starts rolling up his sleeves, exposing his arms.
Sure enough, there’s a long slice on his forearm right where Amund said there would be.
“What happened to your arm?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
I want to see what he’ll say.
Isaac glances down, noticing what I’m staring at. He curls his arm, pushing some of his hair out of his face. “This? Some lunatic cut me in the dining hall. Literally. There was a crowd of students, so I couldn’t see who, but I definitely felt it. Probably a fucking hunter.”
“Yeah,” I say, knowing full well a hunter did do that to him. Amund.
Isaac is the killer after all.
I throw the shield up as he attacks me again.
My arms shake from the effort. He’s strong. It must be his berserkr strength. Isaac batters the shield again and again. With each blow, it feels like I’m being knocked down on the kitchen tiles again, crushed by his weight.
He’s taking out all his frustration on me. My anger builds with each strike. Is this how Mom felt? She never fought back when Dad attacked her. Why? I ask myself each time Isaac batters the shield. Why? Why?
I block blow after blow—
“Enough,” Gunnar calls out. “Now switch.”
Suddenly, the onslaught stops.
“Shit, sorry,” Isaac says, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face. “Guess I got a little carried away.”
You think? I’m left panting, barely able to breathe.
Isaac takes the shield from me and holds it up.
“One minute,” I manage to gasp out. “I just… I need a minute.”
I cut through the class and find Gunnar instructing another pair of students.
“I have to speak with you,” I tell him.
“Whatever it is, it can wait until after class.”
“It really can’t,” I insist. “It’s about the attack.”
Gunnar turns to me with a scowl. “What is it?”
“I know who did this to me.” I point at my lip. “And it wasn’t just me he hurt. He’s killed—”
Gunnar grabs my shoulder. “Everyone, keep sparring.”
He ushers me outside into the hall and slams the door behind us.
“What are you talking about?” Gunnar demands.
“Isaac did this to me,” I tell him. “And he’s the one who killed Idris.” I don’t mention Emilía, since I’m not sure if Gunnar even knows about her death or not. “I’m worried next time Isaac is going to kill me—or someone else. You have to do something. Please.”
Gunnar narrows his eyes. “I assume you have proof?”
“When I was attacked, the hunter who saved me inflicted an injury on him.” I roll up my sleeve, showing my forearm. “Right here. Isaac has the same exact injury.”
Gunnar grunts. “Plenty of students have injuries. Skallagrim is dangerous. Now go back in—”
“It has to be him,” I say, desperate. “He was supposed to meet me in the dining hall when I was attacked. He knew where I was. He wanted to get rid of me after I warned Tala about him. And it’s not just that—”
“Enough, Edith,” Gunnar says. He points his chin toward the door. “Leave the investigating to those more qualified and get back in there.”
Why won’t he listen? He’s dismissing me like Principal Matthews and everyone at my old school. They didn’t believe me about the knife. Now Gunnar won’t believe me about my attacker. Like my words aren’t worth anything. Like I’m not worth being believed.
I rip the door open and return to class.
“While you attack,” Gunnar calls, resuming his lesson, “think of something that makes you angry.”
“No problem,” I say, heading straight toward Isaac.
I throw my first punch.
My fist collides with the shield, sending pain shooting up my arm. “Ow, fuck.”
Isaac shakes his head. “Don’t tuck your thumb in, or you’ll break it with your strength.”
I adjust my grip a bit before punching the shield again.
“Better,” Isaac says.
My fists fly, building more strength with each blow. I can feel the force of the impact traveling through me up to my teeth, but I don’t stop. I keep punching. Keep hitting. Now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. My rage consumes me as I think of Isaac. Of Dad.
A scream escapes me as I lash out.
My claws slice through the shield.
Wooden pieces burst apart, clattering to the floor.
Isaac is wide-eyed with surprise. “Damn.”
I look down at my shaking hands. My claws are still out, long and pale and sharp. I lost control and let my anger get the better of me. Again. Something I swore I wouldn’t do. The Unity Dance is eleven days away, and I still have no control. I could’ve seriously injured Isaac. Or worse.
Gunnar joins us, taking in the scene.
Breathing hard, I brace myself, already knowing I failed today’s lesson.
Instead, he grins. “So you do have claws after all. Good. You’ll need them to survive here.”