Chapter Forty-Seven Edith #2
Just keep him talking, I remind myself. Already, my senses are slowly starting to sharpen. The lupine is wearing off. He must have underestimated how much to use. Probably since I’ve never actually gone berserk. I just need enough strength to break free.
“So you were the one who followed me through the school, weren’t you?” I ask, trying to stall him.
“You came too close to finding this place. I just wanted to scare you away, that’s all.”
“But you attacked me, didn’t you? In the dining hall.”
“I wasn’t planning to.” Nils frowns. “When you asked me to make the truth-teller potion, I knew no matter what I did, Isaac was going to say he didn’t do it.
Since I couldn’t resist the challenge of making it, I had to ensure Isaac never drank it, so I followed you with a helm of concealment.
I was only going to shatter the vial until I saw you almost kiss Amund. ”
“Don’t let her distract you,” his uncle’s ghost says from the shadows.
I yank my chains, but my strength hasn’t fully returned.
If Nils tries to kill me now, I won’t be able to stop him.
“I told you, there’s nothing to worry about!
” Nils shouts over his shoulder, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“We’re almost finished here.” Nils turns to me, wearing an apologetic expression.
“Sorry about that. My uncle is paranoid something will go wrong again. They should be drinking the fly agaric soon.”
“Fly agaric? What are you talking about?”
“My uncle wants to bring back all the seers,” Nils says slowly.
“We had to get creative with finding vessels for them. When I went berserk using Egill’s pelt, I was essentially being possessed by the wolf’s spirit.
Which means berserkir are vulnerable to possession too, especially when berserk.
With their humanity temporarily suppressed, a spirit can take control of their body. ”
My wrists burn from pulling at the manacles, but Nils hasn’t noticed yet. “So you’re going to let them possess wild berserkir?”
“Of course not. Haven’t you been paying attention, Edith?
Wild berserkir wouldn’t make good hosts.
Who wants to be stuck as an animal forever?
” Nils gives a shrill laugh. “No, I came up with something much better. Fly agaric is a hallucinogenic, mildly poisonous mushroom that induces a state of frenzy. When consumed by berserkir, it makes them go berserk. So I crushed it into a powder and added it to the punch at the Unity Dance. Even a sip will be enough to allow them to become possessed.”
My stomach plummets.
“They should be drinking it anytime now,” Nils continues, “and then all the descendants of the berserkir responsible for the Tragedy will become vessels for the seers they killed. I thought that was a nice touch. Poetic, really. Once that happens, I can finally complete the ritual.” He grins.
“Shouldn’t be much longer now. Then the seers can take their revenge on Skallagrim. ”
I shake my head numbly. Bea is at the dance. So is Amund. Jim and Patricia.
All my classmates. Tala. Isaac. Kris. Even my instructors like Helga and Maeve and Gunnar.
When the berserkir go into a frenzy, what will happen?
I shudder to think about it, especially with everyone in Skallagrim packed into that gym.
Not just students but the school board and alumni and family and friends.
It will be a bloodbath.
“Don’t do this, Nils,” I beg. “Please. This isn’t you.”
“Isn’t it?” His eyes glint as he brings his face closer to mine.
“No one at Skallagrim ever accepted me. I always had to keep my ability hidden, like it was something to be ashamed of. But Trygve taught me how to use it. He accepted me. He is the only one who acknowledges how special I am. Now, when I bring all the seers back, I’ll have a place where I belong. ”
“You won’t get away with this,” I snarl.
Thinking of my mom and dad and their relationship, I pull harder on the chains, making the metal groan.
My strength is almost fully restored. I’ve always been afraid of my anger because I’ve seen what it does.
Anger kills. But maybe I was wrong—maybe it also protects.
Someone needs to warn everyone at the dance.
Someone needs to stop Nils before everyone is massacred.
Time is running out. I can’t keep stalling him.
I have to free myself.
Gritting my teeth, I pull and pull and pull, hoping I can snap the manacles off. I keep pulling even though it feels like my arms are being ripped off. A scream tears from me.
“This again?” Nils laughs. “I told you, it’s pointless.”
But the manacles are getting tighter. Tighter.
My skin is crawling, rippling like it’s taking on a life of its own. The little hairs on my arms grow thicker, longer, my body changing before my eyes. My wrists enlarge, thick fur sprouting over my arms. The iron gives a high-pitched whine as it starts to stretch, unable to hold me any longer.
I scream against the tight pain. Reason disappears, replaced by rage. A rage so powerful my body trembles and won’t stop. Not from fear. This trembling is a raw, primal thing. Adrenaline and anger and action. Fight or flight or freeze or fawn. Survival mechanisms passed down from my ancestors.
For the first time, I do not run.
I choose to fight.
The chains snap, clattering to the floor like deadweights.
I collapse to the ground, panting heavily. Long, light-colored claws erupt from my fingers, pushing their way through my nail beds, splitting my nails apart. The same claws my mom had. When people learn what happened to her, their response is always: I’m so sorry for your loss.
But I didn’t lose her.
My mom was taken from me.
And I’m not going to let anyone else be taken from me ever again.
Not Bea. Not Patricia. Not Jim.
Not Amund.
My back arches. Breaks. Screams rend the air as my spine cracks, reshaping itself. Brown fur spreads over my arms and up my neck. I stare down at a massive brown paw, complete with sharp claws. Another scream tears out of my throat.
No, not a scream.
A roar.
I rise onto my hind legs, saliva flying from my jaws as I unleash a primal cry. A lifetime of pent-up rage rips out of me, reverberating through every bone in my body. All this time, I’ve been terrified of becoming trapped like my mom.
But I am like my mom. And that was never a bad thing. Surviving as long as she did took more strength than I could have ever imagined.
She was a berserkr.
A bear.
And I am her savage daughter.
Nils stumbles back. He quickly chants, low and steady as a drumbeat.
As ancient words pour from his lips, his face begins to change.
His head jerks violently, his neck twisting until he looks inhuman.
I watch in horror as the wolf pelt slowly melds with his body, spreading over his arms, his torso, his legs.
His spine snaps as he hunches over the stone floor, screaming in agony.
His limbs lengthen before bending back, bones crunching.
The werewolf rises before me.
Now I can finally see Nils for what he is. He stands on powerful hind legs, his massive paws scratching over the stone. His shoulders are hunched, and his unnaturally long arms hang beside his knees, his wicked claws like knives.
As Nils throws his head back and howls, it feels like facing my dad all over again.
My chest grows tight. Fresh rage fills me.
But I’m no longer a little girl. I’m a berserkr.
I bellow, saliva flying from my mouth, blasting him with the force of my own challenge.
I hurl myself at Nils, powerful paws ready to rip him to shreds.
I no longer have to be afraid.
He does.