Chapter Forty-Eight Amund
I search the room wildly to find the source of the screams.
More shouts rise as people clear the dance floor.
I push through the crowd, getting closer, until I see Tala curled up on the floor, panting heavily as she clutches her stomach.
Her back arches, a scream interrupting the song.
She tears at her dress like it’s constricting her.
Fur spreads over her skin as her limbs lengthen.
Change. And then a dark wolf has taken her place, eyes glowing bright yellow.
I hesitate, unable to act. What is happening?
Tala snarls at Val.
Val frees a dagger strapped to her thigh, brandishing it toward the sleek black wolf.
“What are you doing, ma chérie?” She backs away, broken glass crunching under her heels. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Tala bares her fangs.
All those times they fought in class, and now they might actually kill each other.
Val’s back bumps the wall, her eyes wide with panic. “Tala, stop!”
An arrow whistles past me—clipping Tala’s ear and lodging into the wall.
“No!” Val shouts.
Tala growls, deep and dangerous. The near miss only seems to anger her. I whip around to see Dorian already reloading his crossbow. Tala sets her sights on him, too, her teeth bared at her new target.
I turn to Isaac. “Stop her—”
Isaac starts screaming, his drink shattering on the floor. His clothes hang in tatters on his body, and his dress shoes are split open. Brown fur envelopes his body as he falls on his hands and knees. I stare in horror as bones crack and snap.
A sand-colored wolf rises where Isaac was moments ago.
Isaac lets out a furious howl, exposing long, lethal fangs.
He joins Tala as she races toward Dorian.
More glasses shatter.
The music cuts off abruptly, replaced by screams. I look around the gym, watching as more berserkir drop to the ground, their own transformations starting. Not just students. Faculty and staff. Alumni. Every berserkr.
“What the hell is going on?” Val shouts over all the noise.
“I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
While the berserkir transform, everyone who isn’t one runs for the only exit.
They throw themselves against the doors, pounding their fists and screaming, but the doors don’t open.
Helga pushes through the crowd and chants an unlocking spell.
Nothing happens. When that doesn’t work, she paints an unlocking stave with her blood, yet the doors still won’t open.
We’re trapped.
Something must have sealed the doors shut from outside.
While Helga and my mother try more spells, I can feel the weight of the lupine canister in my pocket. This is the only one we have. I should save it until they get the doors open. Otherwise, we won’t be able to escape.
A group of hunters is already stationed in the bleachers on the opposite side of the gym.
They draw their bows, arrows aimed at the berserkir.
Bows every hunter brought with them because I warned them the killer could attack the Unity Dance.
When I told them to stash weapons in the gym just in case, I never imagined this.
“No!” I shout. “Hold your fire!”
Too late.
Arrows slice through the air.
One after another buries into the berserkir.
In a flash of fur, Tala and Isaac descend on the hunters. More wolves join them, leaping over the bleachers and knocking aside the bows before the hunters can reload.
Tala latches onto Dorian—and rips out his throat. Blood sprays the wall. Agonized screams pierce the party, quickly replaced by the sound of wet flesh being feasted on as Dorian is devoured by the pack of wolves.
“Damn it, Amund,” Val shouts. “We have to do something!”
“I know,” I say, taking in the chaos.
There’s at least fifty berserkir. Boars rampage through the crowd, tusks tearing into flesh and driving people toward the bleachers where the wolves are waiting.
Other people scramble onto the tables, trying to avoid tusks and hooves and claws while they start chanting spells.
The berserkir are so quick, there’s no time for staves, only spoken spells.
A gray bear bellows, drawing my attention as he barrels toward a group of screaming people. The bear is missing one eye, just like… Gunnar.
Then Helga is there. The massive bowl of punch levitates in the air a moment before flying toward Gunnar, red liquid washing over the floor like blood as the bowl hits him in the head. Gunnar roars and turns on her, and Helga throws her hands out, chanting to lift the bowl back up.
While Helga fends off Gunnar, I spot another door behind her.
Not an exit, but it should lead to the locker room.
Everyone should be safe inside.
Still, I hesitate. What if I’m wrong?
Helga can’t help me. She’s busy with Gunnar.
Where is Father when I need him? Better yet, Idris.
He would know how to stop this from becoming another massacre.
But neither of them is here. This is on me now.
My responsibility. I reach for the canister of lupine. I can’t keep hesitating. I have to act.
I rip the pin off and hurl the canister.
Purple smoke pours out, clouds billowing through the gym.
I can’t see anything past the purple plumes, but I can hear the berserkir yelping and chuffing. It won’t leave lasting damage, but it should incapacitate them temporarily and buy us time to retreat.
“Everyone, get inside the locker room!” I shout, squinting through the smoke.
Every few seconds, strobe lights flash through the haze, illuminating the silhouettes of people rushing to the back of the gym in a panic. Val and I grab whoever is close by, pulling them toward safety.
Once everyone we can find is inside, I give the gym a final scan.
The smoke is settling. Some of the berserkir are starting to recover. Damn it, already? At least it seems like only the boars are so far. We’re running out of time. I search for any stragglers—
Bea.
She’s huddled in a corner with her terrified foster parents.
For some reason, Bea hasn’t transformed yet. She’s still human.
“We have to get Edith’s family,” I tell Val, tipping my chin in their direction. With this many berserkir, I won’t be able to rescue them by myself. Even if I’m asking my best friend to risk her life too.
“On it,” Val says without hesitation.
We cut across the floor, racing for the opposite side of the gym.
Snarls and screams fill my ears. A stray arrow whistles past my head.
Some hunters must still be out here too, trying to pick off the berserkir.
Fools. A boar barrels after us, so I run to the right while Val makes a beeline for Bea and her parents.
The boar is right on my heels as I topple one of the nearby tables, slamming it on the ground and standing it up like a shield.
The boar hits the table so hard it squeals in pain, temporarily stunned.
But the sound draws the attention of the other boars.
They start charging through the smoke toward us.
“Val!” I shout. “Hurry!”
She slips in, pulling Bea and her parents behind the table quickly.
We barricade ourselves in the corner.
“We need to get to the locker room.” I lean against the table, hoping the wood will hold as more boars batter against it. The force of the impact travels through me, making my shoulder ache. Tusks scrape over the table, desperate to get to us. “I don’t know how long this table is going to last.”
“The question is how,” Val says. “We aren’t going to make it with this many boars, and it’s only a matter of time until the rest recover. We’re trapped now.”
“What’s happening?” Bea asks, clinging tightly to her parents. “Why did everyone go berserk?”
“We don’t know,” Val admits.
Bea’s mother rubs her shoulder. “You’re still human, honey. Don’t worry.”
Why is that? The question nags at my mind. All the berserkir transformed, so why hasn’t Bea? I saw more than a few smaller cubs and pups among the berserkir, so it can’t be only that she’s young.
There must be something else…
I fight to keep the table from crushing us as boars ram against the wood. Wait. This all began shortly after Helga’s toast. All those glasses shattering right before they lost control.
“Did you drink the punch?” I ask through gritted teeth.
Bea frowns. “No, my mom wouldn’t let me.”
“Sugar makes her too hyper,” her mother adds, a bit frantic.
Realization hits me like a hammer. “There must be something in the punch. I don’t think they went berserk willingly.”
“You mean they were drugged?” Bea’s father asks.
“Something like that.”
“Well, we have to do something,” Val says, growing desperate. “Or else they’re going to kill us.”
The wood cracks, a split forming before my eyes. Val is right.
This table won’t last much longer.
Neither will we.