Chapter Forty-One Edith
For the first time, I show up to Transformation because I want to.
There’s only a few more days until the Unity Dance.
Bea will be there, and so will Jim and Patricia.
I want to be able to have fun and actually enjoy the dance without worrying I’m going to accidentally hurt someone.
To do that, I have to be confident I can control my transformation.
When I arrive to class, Isaac slings one arm around me. “So, Edith, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you…”
“Don’t even think about it,” Tala warns him.
“What? I need a date to the dance now,” Isaac says. “You know, since you’re going solo.”
I shrug him off and turn to Tala. “Really?”
“Yup,” she says, popping the p. “I finally told my parents that Isaac and I broke up.”
Looks like I’m not the only one primal screaming helped.
“How’d they take it?”
“Not great, honestly.” Tala sighs. “But I’m learning to be okay with disappointing other people. The most important thing is that I don’t disappoint myself. I’m going to start doing what I want to do.”
Isaac laughs. “About time, T.”
“All right everyone,” Gunnar calls, clapping his hands together. “Break into groups and work on your transformations.”
I look up at Tala and Isaac. “Any advice?”
“Remember what you told us?” Tala asks, searching my face. “Use your rage to transform.”
“I’ll try.”
I do my best to concentrate. Since I screamed before the crater, I haven’t been able to access that anger again. The animal within seems to have quieted. I haven’t felt the scrape of claws inside me or even the low rumble of growls.
I shake my head slowly. “I don’t think I can.”
“No problem,” Tala says. “Start with something small. How about letting your claws out?”
Isaac holds up his hands. “Just don’t use them on me this time.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”
Ever since I swiped Jason, I’ve been afraid of my claws coming out.
Now it feels weird to want them to. I don’t have to be afraid of them, I remind myself.
Mom was a berserkr too. But she was in denial.
She never had a chance to attend a school like Skallagrim, where she could have learned to control it. To use it.
But I can.
My nails start to lengthen before my eyes. Curling and sharpening to fine-tipped points. They’re long and pale just like Mom’s. For once, when I look at my claws, I’m not terrified. I’m awed by them. They actually look… beautiful to me. Because these claws don’t just belong to me.
They belonged to Mom first.
“Val just texted me,” Amund says, checking his phone. Somehow it’s already Thursday. We’ve been waiting to hear from her for the past twenty minutes, standing awkwardly in the middle of campus after our classes ended. “Irina just went to the library. We should have plenty of time.”
“Great. Let’s go.”
Amund removes a dark chunk of coal from his pocket. “One last thing.”
“A lump of coal? Really?”
A small smile tugs his lips. “It’s the helm of concealment.”
“Um, I don’t think it’s working,” I point out. “I can still see you.”
Amund laughs. “I know. My blood is required to activate the stave.”
“Then let me,” I say, searching his face slowly. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”
I stare down at my nails and concentrate.
Slowly, they start to sharpen into claws.
I grin. “See? I’ve been practicing the past couple of days.”
“Impressive,” Amund says, even though this is all I’ve managed to do.
I still haven’t been able to transform, even when I tried again in class earlier today.
He offers me his hand without hesitation.
Amund isn’t afraid of me.
Meeting his eyes, I press my claw to the pad of his finger. Amund doesn’t so much as flinch as his skin parts and bright blood wells. His eyes remain fixed on mine.
I withdraw, watching while he closes his fingers around the stave—
Amund vanishes before my eyes.
I stare in disbelief at the empty space where he was a moment before. “I think it worked.”
If he responds, I can’t hear him.
I glance around, unsure where to even look.
Something brushes the back of my hand. Amund. Well, hopefully it’s him. This is so weird. I hold my hand out hesitantly, not sure what to expect. His fingers lace through mine—
Amund appears as suddenly as he disappeared.
“Oh.”
“Sorry, I probably should have prepared you more. It’s my first time using it with someone else.”
I look down at our entwined hands. His fingers are warm and steady, but I can feel the calluses on his palm from all his training. There’s something reassuring about his hand in mine. “As long as we hold hands, I’ll be invisible too?”
He nods. “Seems so.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
We pass countless students, but no one so much as looks at us. It’s strange, being invisible. For so long, it felt like that’s what I wanted to be, to make myself small and silent and insignificant. Now that I’ve accepted who I am, I know it’s not.
Amund gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
We can do this only because we’re invisible. Even if we wanted to hold hands like this, we wouldn’t be able to. A hunter and a berserkr could never be together. Could they? I think of Maeve and her husband. Maybe being together isn’t as impossible as it seems.
Not like it matters.
I can’t be in a relationship. I won’t.
Even so, I find myself squeezing Amund’s hand a little bit tighter.
We slip inside Freyja Hall, following a witch as she heads into the dorm.
“Shoot, I don’t remember which room was Irina’s.”
Amund laughs. “I do. I followed you and Nils there.”
“Wait,” I say, stopping abruptly. “So that’s how you knew about the séance?”
“I heard the whole thing.” He tugs my hand, leading me back to Irina’s room, where he tries the door with his free hand—locked.
“Brjóta dyrr,” Amund says.
His voice sends a shiver through me.
The words sound ancient. Powerful.
He tries the handle again. This time it opens.
We slip inside, quickly locking the door behind us.
“There isn’t much lignite left,” Amund says. “We should try to be quick.”
I slip my hand free of his, and Amund vanishes before my eyes again. Shaking my head, I start looking through Irina’s books. She has a ton of textbooks—things like The Art of Staves and Deciphering Dreams—and various sagas. But none of the books look out of the ordinary.
Frowning, I keep searching. “It has to be here somewhere.”
I look around the room, forgetting I can’t see Amund.
Or hear him, for that matter.
If only I could remember where Irina got the notebook from the last time I was here. I was too focused on Emilía’s side of the room, looking for clues about who her boyfriend was. Now I know I should have been focused on Irina all along.
I start rifling through the drawers of her desk, searching piles of papers and pens and highlighters. “I wonder if that’s why Irina was going to the seer school? To visit her aunt’s ghost?”
Amund appears before me. “She could also be trying to get in touch with her powers there,” he muses to himself.
I nearly jump. “Shit, you scared me.”
Amund checks his palm. “Looks like the lignite ran out.”
I pull my hand back, only to brush against a weathered book. “Wait, here it is.”
The old notebook is tucked in the back of one of her desk drawers.
I crack it open.
Seers can enter the spirit realm through trance and communicate with spirits to gain knowledge.
By traversing the spirit realm, we assume great personal risk.
Our spirit can become lost in the realm, leaving our body open to possession.
Even after returning, we are particularly vulnerable because of our ability to bridge the divide between life and death.
I start flipping through the pages as quickly as I can. “If it’s really a seer symbol, it should be in here somewhere.”
“I’ll look around and see if I can find the pelt,” Amund says, moving through the room behind me.
I thumb through page after page of notes on Traversing the Spirit Realm and Seeking the Wisdom of Spirits and Returning to Your Body when—
There.
At the top of a page, it reads Returning Spirits to Our Realm.
A cold shiver traces down my spine. “Amund. Look at this.”
He leans closer, looking over my shoulder. We read it together.
Returning Spirits to Our Realm
Just as it is possible to enter the spirit realm, it is also possible for spirits to reenter the realm of the living.
Unlike séances, which allow temporary communication between our realms, this ritual can be permanent.
It must be done with great caution. Once the door to the spirit realm is opened, it will remain so until sealed, and any returned spirit must either possess a living host or become trapped in the realm of the living until it is released.
“Wait.” My stomach sinks as I turn to Amund. “Is this what Irina is after? Is she killing people in order to bring her aunt back?”
His eyes lock with mine. “Sounds like motive to me.”
I swallow hard. “We have to bring this to Helga.”
“As soon as we find the pelt,” Amund says. “I haven’t seen it anywhere so far.” He pulls open her dresser drawers and searches through her clothes. “We’re going to need as much proof as possible to convince Helga.”
“Maybe she’s keeping it somewhere else?” I try, eager to get out of here.
The drawer snaps shut. “Like the seer school?”
“Well, we did see Irina going there… and I was also chased by the original berserkr when I went there.”
Something buzzes loudly in Amund’s pocket.
He pulls out his phone quickly. “Shit, Val said Irina is coming.”
I shove the notebook closed. “What do we do?”
Footsteps approach down the hall.
“We have to hide,” Amund whispers.
He glances around the room, but there’s nowhere to go.
The door handle jiggles.
“Get under the bed.”
I crawl under quickly, hugging the book to my chest.
Amund slides in next to me as the door opens.
We barely fit. Lying on my back, I stare up at the bottom of her mattress. Poor Amund has even less room, his chest pressing against the bed frame. He had to turn his head to the side so he’s facing me.
I listen to footsteps as Irina walks through her room.
“Weird,” Irina says slowly. “I don’t remember leaving that open.”
A drawer slams shut.
I wince. Looks like I forgot to close it before we hid.
I twist my head, trying to look over Amund’s broad chest. But all I can see are Irina’s shoes as she walks around, clearly searching for something. My heart thumps. Hopefully not her aunt’s notebook.
Amund stiffens beside me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, afraid to even breathe. Please, please, don’t look under your bed.
If she catches us here, I have no idea what she’ll do.
Irina has already killed two people.
I don’t want to be next.