Chapter Thirty-Eight Amund
The next time I wake, Val is sitting beside my bed with her head in her hands. When I start to stir, she notices my eyes are open. “Amund?”
“Val?” My voice is rough from disuse. “How long have I been out?”
“A few days,” she says, leaning over me. “It’s Monday evening.”
“Really?” I groan. Last thing I remember, Nils gave me that medicine. It must have been really strong if it knocked me out for a few days. But as I sit up slowly, I don’t feel any more pain. Whatever it was, it worked.
“At least I feel a lot better,” I add.
Val smiles. “You’re never allowed to worry me like that again, got it?”
I laugh. “I’ll try.”
“Seriously, though, I’m glad you’re okay.” Val shifts in her seat, looking uncomfortable. “I was scared shitless I’d never get the chance to apologize to you. I’m sorry I was such an asshole. I’m still figuring out my own shit, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“Why were you so upset about Edith?”
“I have nothing against her, other than that she’s a berserkr.
” She shakes her head. “I just told you all the same things I’ve been telling myself.
That hunters and berserkir would never work.
I mean, look what happened to Idris.” Val falls quiet for a moment before continuing, “I didn’t want to see you get hurt. You’re my family now.”
I fight a smile. “This is about Tala, isn’t it?”
“What?” Val tenses. “What are you talking about?”
“You obviously like her,” I say. “At least, you can’t seem to leave her alone.”
She shrugs. “I enjoy riling her up. It’s different.”
My phone buzzes with a new text. I grin when I see who it’s from.
Val arches a brow. “Let me guess, Edith?”
I nod, distracted by her message: We were wrong about Isaac.
Seems like we’re on the same page.
I know, I type back. There’s a lot we need to catch up on. I never told her what I realized about the original berserkr, but first, I want to confirm I’m correct. This way, we can both get on the same page.
Meet at library? I add and tap send.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,” Val says, standing and stretching. “I’ve been sitting here way too long. I need to grab something to eat. Glad to have you back.” She casts me a knowing look before heading out of the clinic.
Edith’s response is quick: see you there.
I climb out of bed and quickly get changed.
Mother pokes her head out of her office. “Amund, where are you going?”
“I’m meeting Edith.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Mother asks, frowning. “You just woke up.”
“I’m fine,” I tell her, rolling out my arm and stretching to show her I have full mobility again. “I’m practically fully healed now, thanks to that medicine Nils made and a few days of rest. I’m only going to the library, that’s all.”
She looks less convinced. “You shouldn’t push yourself.”
This has been the longest I’ve spent under her care in years, and she seems to not want to let me go. I’m not sure I want to leave her, either. I could get used to this. Being with her and Nils. The thought is as sudden—and dangerous—as a snap trap.
“I can’t just sit around while there’s a killer on the loose,” I say, meeting her gaze.
“I know.” She reaches for my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I think I always knew that about you, even before you were born. That’s why I named you what I did. In Old Norse, Agmundr means respectful protector.”
Shame burns through me. Her words only remind me of how many people I’ve failed to protect. Nils. Emilía. Idris. Even Edith.
Mother rubs soft circles on my hand. “Just be careful, okay?”
The only way I can protect Mother now is to leave.
“Of course,” I tell her.
It feels good to be moving again, free from the clinic.
The library isn’t far. I peer up at the towering building with its slanted iron roof and tall, arched windows.
I can’t remember the last time I was here.
As I climb the concrete stairs, I realize how sore my muscles still are.
I reach for the iron railing for support.
Maybe Mother was right. Maybe I do need more rest.
But I can’t just sit there any longer, so I head inside the library.
The walls are lined with thousands of books.
Long tables stretch across the lower floor with wooden chairs pulled up like a great feast hall.
A librarian with thick red glasses sits behind the central desk.
Margrét is good friends with my mother. When I was young, Mother used to bring Nils and me here to borrow from their collection of children’s books, although we often ended up chasing each other through the aisles instead.
Margrét was always kind to us. Though I’m not here to see her, but the computer by her side.
As I approach the desk, Margrét offers a warm smile. “Amund, what brings you here?”
I nod in her direction. “Just looking for a book.”
Margrét turns to her computer. “Title?”
“Actually, I was hoping to look it up myself.”
She laughs, not unkindly. “Helping people locate books is what Skallagrim pays me to do.”
So much for that. I can’t tell her I’m looking for books about seers. I doubt there are any left anyway. Anything related to seers was purged from Skallagrim after the Tragedy. Now it’s almost impossible to find anything about either.
I clear my throat. “Well, I don’t know the title, but I’d like to learn more about Egill Skallagrímsson.”
Margrét starts slowly punching the keys. “Taking an interest in your ancestors?”
“That’s right.”
The real reason is because Egill is the only seer still spoken of here. I’m hoping a book about him will provide insight into his ability or have more information about the original berserkir.
“Let’s see.” Margrét adjusts her glasses, the computer screen reflected in them.
“We have Egill’s Saga, of course. Then there’s a book that focuses on his feud with Harald Fairhair in Norway.
Gripping, really. Did you know that Harald murdered Egill’s brother?
Oh, and here’s a collection of Egill’s poems. What else do we have…
there are plenty of scholarly works. Egill’s Saga and Empathy: Emotions and Moral Issues in a Dysfunctional Saga Family by ármann Jakobsson.
Social Memory and the Sagas: The Case of Egill’s Saga by Jesse L. Byock. The Enigma of Egill—”
“I think I’ll start with his saga,” I say, a bit overwhelmed.
Margrét grins. “An excellent choice.”
She jots down where I can find it on a scrap of paper.
I take it and head to the shelves on the left.
“Oh, Amund, it’s in the collection upstairs,” Margrét calls after me.
“Right. Thank you.”
Upstairs is a different world. There are no tables in sight, just endless shelves of books. Each aisle is labeled with numbers, but I have no idea what they mean. When I used to come here, Mother always helped us find books. Maybe I should have asked Margrét to show me.
This floor of the library is eerily quiet.
Each creaking footstep I take sounds too loud in my ears.
As I wander the aisles, the lights overhead blink off and on a few times.
I check each row I pass, making sure I’m still alone.
Somehow, something about this place seems almost…
sinister. I have no idea what could be lying in wait behind these rows of books.
There are too many hiding places here for me to feel comfortable.
I walk past the next row at the same time someone turns the corner, slamming into me.
Edith looks alarmed. “A-Amund?”
“That was fast,” I say, surprised to see her so soon.
“I was nearby when I got your text.” Edith peers up at me. “Why did you want to meet here?”
“To confirm something, actually,” I admit.
“When I was talking to my father, I realized there’s only one reason why the wolf would be bipedal.
” I draw Edith around the corner so we’re surrounded by books.
I can’t help but feel as though someone could be listening, so I lower my voice. “I think it’s an original berserkr.”
She blinks. “What?”
I lean closer to her and whisper in her ear.
“A seer could be behind the killings. That’s why the killer looks different from typical berserkir.
Someone stole Egill’s pelt and has been using it to go berserk.
I came here to confirm my theory,” I add, “but most books related to seers have been removed.”
“Irina said something similar,” Edith offers.
I hold out the slip of paper Margrét gave me. “Do you know what these numbers mean?”
Edith scans the book spines, moving down the shelf slowly. It doesn’t take her long to find Egill’s Saga. There are numerous copies, practically a whole shelf devoted to holding them.
“Egill, huh?” she asks.
“He was the original berserkr,” I say, sliding one of the books from the shelf. “I’m hoping we can find out more about seers through him. There might be some clue that could help us.”
“Sounds good.” Edith trails her finger over the tops of the books.
She selects one called The Enigma of Egill.
Her brow furrows in concentration as she scans the table of contents.
Realizing I’m staring at her, I crack the spine of Egill’s Saga. Trying to focus, I flip through the pages. The one I grabbed is illustrated. Hopefully this makes it easier to find what I’m looking for. One illustration in particular stops me.
A man-wolf.
It hardly resembles a berserkr at all, looking more man than animal.
Thick hair grows around his face, his ears are pointed, and he bears sharp fangs like a wolf, but otherwise he looks mostly human.
Kveld-úlfr, the caption reads. Egill’s grandfather Ulf was known as Kveldulf or “Evening Wolf” for his strength in hamrammr, or shape-shifting, which predated the use of berserk fury.
Interesting.
Next is a two-page illustration, with Egill wearing a wolf pelt on the left, and on the right, a large werewolf standing on its powerful back legs. The misshapen back. The too-long arms. This illustration looks exactly like the killer stalking Skallagrim.
“Is this what you saw?” I ask, holding the book out to Edith.
She leans closer. “Definitely.”
I quickly read the caption. Egill took his grandfather’s hamrammr ability even further by combining it with his spiritual power.
By wearing a wolf pelt, he could channel the animal’s spirit in his own body and go berserk.
Doing so made Egill increasingly violent and unstable, which we see throughout his saga.
I look up at her. “So a seer is definitely using Egill’s stolen pelt to go berserk.”
“But who?” Edith leans back against the bookshelves, using them to support her. “The only seers we know are…” She frowns. “You don’t think it was Irina, do you?”
“It could be,” I say, trying to untangle all my thoughts. “Maybe Emilía found out she was practicing forbidden magic, and Irina killed her to protect her secret.”
Edith chews on one of her nails. “Maybe that’s why she attacked us, too.”
“What about Idris, though?” I ask quietly.
“Well… your dad is a seer too, right? What if it was him?”
“My father wouldn’t do that,” I tell her, my voice steely. “He wants nothing to do with it. Unlike Irina.”
Edith doesn’t seem convinced. “Well, this is something, anyway. Let’s keep looking.”
I flip through the pages, hoping to find more—
The overhead lights begin to blink off. On. Off.
Edith and I exchange an uncertain look.
“Um, does that happen often?” she asks, worrying her lower lip.
“Only during severe storms.”
The floor creaks behind me.
Edith jumps, snapping her book shut. I turn quickly.
Someone stands in the distant, dark end of the aisle.
The overhead lights buzz and hum like a swarm of insects.
“Hello?” I call out, shielding Edith.
The lights flicker back on, but I can’t believe my eyes.
Irina stands there with an armful of books.
“What are you doing here?” I demand. Was she following us?
How much of our conversation did she overhear?
Irina’s eyes widen like those of a mouse that’s been caught in a trap. “Sh-shelving some books before my shift ends.”
“Well, we’d better leave you to it, then.” Edith grabs my arm, pulling me away from Irina and down the stairs.
“What was that?” I ask her once we’re alone again.
“We were wrong about Isaac,” Edith says quietly. “I want to be sure Irina is really guilty before we turn her in, especially if it means I could be expelled alongside her. I… I’m not ready to go home yet.”
We reach the bottom of the stairs. “How are we supposed to prove that she’s guilty?”
“We’ll wait until her shift is over and follow her.”
I fight a smile. “Now you’re thinking like a hunter.”
Edith and I head downstairs, and I grab us a table in the far corner. This will give us a good vantage point. I can see the circulation desk and the exit from here, but we aren’t close enough to be easily noticeable.
While Edith goes back to reading, I scan the library.
It’s getting late. Irina’s shift should be ending soon.
We don’t have to wait long.
After a few minutes, Irina heads for the circulation desk, her back turned to us. “Have a good night, Margrét.”
Margrét peers up from her red-rimmed glasses. “You too, dear. See you Thursday.”
Irina rushes out the main entrance.
We follow her outside.
From the top of the stairs, we have a clear view of Irina hurrying down the walkway.
Instead of going to Freyja Hall, she heads for the quad.
Is she going to the dining hall? Once there’s enough distance between us, I motion for us to move.
Edith is quick. It doesn’t take long for us to trail Irina.
Irina stops in front of Egill’s statue.
I flatten against the side of the building, pulling Edith with me. Did she see us? Hear us? Irina isn’t a berserkr, so I assume it would be harder for her to sense she’s being followed. Edith’s mouth pops open, but I shake my head, unwilling to risk giving our location away.
I peek out from the corner.
Irina glances around the courtyard, looking nervous. She must be satisfied she’s not being followed, because she continues onward—but not to the dining hall.
She heads straight for the seer campus.