Chapter Forty-Seven Edith
“Are you sure you have everything this time?” I ask Nils as we leave his house. We didn’t get far from Odin Hall before he realized he forgot something.
He rubs the back of his neck, laughing. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine,” I say, eager to get going. Nils is taking his time. He seems like he’s in no rush to get to the Unity Dance, but I can’t wait to see my family and friends. “I just don’t want to be late. We should hurry.”
The creepy statue of Egill watches while we cut across the quad.
I squeeze the stems of the wildflower bouquet, feeling a little queasy. No one else is around, and I can hear the low thump of music from inside the gym even though the doors are closed. Looks like the Unity Dance has already begun.
“I’m just a little nervous,” Nils admits. “In case you couldn’t tell.”
He must be worried about what Dorian will do to him at the dance.
I bump his shoulder with mine. “Don’t worry, it’ll be great.”
“Right. Yeah.” Nils nods, but he still seems uneasy.
When we reach the gym doors, he stops instead of going in.
I pause, confused. “Is everything okay?”
“It will be soon,” he says, sliding a knife out of his pocket.
“Nils?” I stumble back, suddenly dizzy. “What are you doing?”
He doesn’t come after me. Instead, he calmly slices open his palm and smears blood over the doors in the shape of a strange symbol. Not a symbol, a stave. I blink a few times, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing, but my mind feels sluggish.
“There,” Nils says once he’s finished. “No one will be leaving the dance now.”
What the hell is going on? He turns to face me, his expression darkening. His eyes glint the same way my dad’s used to. I back away from him slowly, my head spinning.
I try to run, but my knees give out.
Nils catches me. “It’s all right, I have you.”
The flower bouquet falls from my hands. My limbs feels weak.
“What did you do to me?” I ask, panicked. “Why do I—”
“Lupine,” Nils says. “I hid some inside your bouquet, in case you recognized it. You didn’t even notice, did you? You should really be more familiar with one of your only weaknesses.”
His words don’t make any sense. I’m only half-aware, unable to move, as Nils picks me up in his arms. Since when is Nils strong enough to carry me?
Everything is moving fast and slow at the same time.
The dizziness is getting worse, the ground seeming to spin more with each step he takes.
I have to close my eyes against the sudden swell of nausea.
When I open them again, we’re outside the seer school.
No one is around—everyone is at the dance. I try to scream, but I can’t. I can’t even form words. My mouth feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton balls. I fight to keep my eyes open, but my eyelids grow too heavy.
The world goes dark.
When I wake, heavy manacles are clamped around my wrists. I struggle against the chains, letting out a frustrated scream. No matter how hard I pull, I can’t break free. My berserkr strength is gone.
I sniff the air, but all I can pick up are wet stone and a whiff of rot. Squinting, I look around where I’m being held, but my vision isn’t adjusting to the darkness. All my senses are dulled. Now that my heightened senses are gone, it feels like having a dark bag pulled over my head.
I’m completely powerless.
“Help!” I call out.
Movement catches my attention.
Someone else is here. They’re crouched on the ground, their back turned to me, fur draped over their shoulders. I can’t see who it is, but I have a sinking feeling I already know.
“Nils?” I ask, my voice hoarse. “It was you?”
The cloaked figure stops.
“Oh, you’re finally awake.” Nils turns to me with a smile. “Good.”
All I can see is the face of a dead wolf draped over his head. Dull, lifeless eyes stare at me. Egill’s pelt. No wonder we couldn’t find it in Irina’s room. He’s had it this whole time.
I pull at my chains, rattling them.
Nils watches me struggle. “Thanks to the lupine, you won’t be getting out of those.”
“Help!” I scream. “Someone help me!”
He laughs. “No one can hear you. We’re in the seer school.”
My vision slowly starts to adjust to the darkness. I look around the crumbling, decrepit classroom. The broken windows are all boarded up. Nils must have been using this as his base. He was the one who chased me through the seer school.
“Not yet,” a voice rasps from the shadows.
“I know, I know,” Nils says abruptly. “We need to wait for the fly agaric. I know.”
Who is he talking to?
Wait. Someone else is sprawled on the stone floor. If only I had my berserkr vision right now. I squint, trying to see who it is. Amund? But no. The close-cropped hair. The strong jaw. That could only be their dad. No matter how long I stare, he doesn’t move.
Nils can’t be talking to his dad.
Dread slides over me. Unless… he’s talking to his ghost.
Nils is unhinged. I never imagined he could be the killer. He was the first friend I made at Skallagrim. He always seemed so nice. He even went out of his way to help me catch Emilía’s killer and prove my innocence. No wonder he believed I didn’t kill her.
He did.
“Why would you kill Emilía?” I ask, still not wanting to believe it. “She was your friend.”
“That was the problem.” Nils shakes his head. “I wanted to be more, but she didn’t.”
Realization chills me to my bones. All this time, I thought Nils was helping me because he was my friend. But he had ulterior motives, didn’t he? He made the truth-teller potion for me—only to attack me before I could give it to Isaac. My lip. Nils did that to me.
And not just me—he even attacked his own brother.
I never really knew Nils at all.
I have no idea what he’s capable of, do I? My chains still won’t budge. I need to keep Nils talking until the lupine wears off so I can escape and warn everyone. Who knows what he has planned for the Unity Dance?
My blood runs cold. “You killed your own dad?”
“Oh no, he’s not dead.” Nils lets out a sharp laugh.
“Uncle Trygve needs a new vessel. Seers make the best hosts, since we’re already more susceptible to spirits.
My dad was the perfect choice. Trygve will take his body, and I’ll get the dad I always wanted.
One who actually wants me to be his son. ”
Nils steps aside, revealing a view of what he’s been working on: two large triangles fashioned from something dark and slippery with blood—
Intestines. Those are intestines.
I start to retch at the sight, even worse than I imagined.
The remnants of the ritual I discovered in the seer school. The chalky powder that formed three interlocking triangles. They must have been the entrails of three people, desiccated after lying there for thirty years. Sour bile burns my throat.
But there have been only two killings so far. Two triangles.
My stomach sinks with realization.
“The ritual requires the entrails of a witch, a hunter, and a berserkr,” Nils continues.
“Originally, I planned to use one of the wild berserkir.” He waves a hand to a glass jar sitting on the desk, full of twisted intestines floating in green liquid.
“But you just had to choose my brother instead of me, didn’t you? ”
His eyes flash in the darkness. Looking at Nils now, with his disheveled hair and wild expression, I don’t recognize him.
This isn’t the awkward, sweet boy who showed me around Skallagrim, who became my first real friend here.
I no longer know who Nils is or why I didn’t see this side of him sooner.
“But I didn’t! I told Amund the same thing I told you: I don’t do dating.”
Nils sneers, exposing too-sharp canines. “Liar.”
Screaming, I struggle with my chains.
I feel so helpless. All my life, I’ve been afraid of repeating Mom’s mistakes and ending up like her. I swore I’d be different. I’ve been so careful to avoid romantic relationships, to not let myself love anyone like she loved my dad, so I couldn’t be trapped too.
But maybe that isn’t enough.
Maybe just being a girl in this world makes me a target.
No matter how careful I am, no matter how I look or dress, no matter how many precautions I take… no matter what I do, I’ll never be safe. Not really.
It was never about what I did or didn’t do.
Part of me always blamed my mom. How could she ever fall in love with someone who hurt her?
But it isn’t as simple as that. Maybe Amund was right.
Maybe abusive relationships are like snap traps.
Anyone can accidentally step on one, at any time, no matter how careful they are.
By the time you realize what you’ve walked into, or how bad it actually is, it’s already too late.
Sometimes leaving isn’t just difficult; it’s dangerous.
What happened to my mom wasn’t sudden, though.
It was gradual.
More like running downhill.
I do it all the time for cross-country. At first it feels easy.
By the time you realize how steep the decline is, you’re more than halfway down.
You’re out of breath, your muscles are screaming, and you no longer know if you can make it.
Do you turn around and try to climb back to the top?
Or do you take the easier option: let momentum carry you down?
After all, you’ve already come this far.
Running up that hill would take so much energy, more energy than you have to give. If you turn around now, what was the point? So you keep going down, down, down. Until one day you’ve reached the bottom. There’s nowhere left to go.
When you finally look up, you realize it was never a hill at all. It was a mountain. Where you started seems so impossibly far away, you can’t imagine ever reaching it again. Finally, finally, I feel like I understand Mom a little bit.
And my heart breaks for her.
But now I’ll claw my way up the whole fucking mountain if I have to.
I’ll do whatever it takes to get out of here before I become someone’s victim.