Chapter Forty-Nine Edith #2
“We can’t kill the berserkir,” I say, turning to Amund. “They aren’t in control. They were drugged.”
“I know.” Amund approaches a dead hunter lying on the gym floor.
Her suit is ripped to shreds around her, but her leathers are still intact.
The other hunters must have worn them underneath their clothes like Amund.
He crouches and starts stripping her leather armor off, piece by piece.
“She won’t be needing these anymore.” He holds the leathers out to me. “But you will.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking them from him. Our hands brush briefly.
I stare down at the leathers. These were made from a wild berserkr… I think of the wolf pelt Nils wore. Maybe there’s a way I can wear these more like the original berserkr. A way I can honor the animal who made this. Saving all the berserkir here from themselves seems like a good start.
I slip off Patricia’s coat, letting it fall at my feet. Amund averts his gaze, a blush spreading across his cheeks. I pull on the leathers quickly, surprised by how well they fit me. How easy they are to move in.
“The punch was laced with fly agaric,” I say, struggling with one of the leather bracers. “It’s a hallucinogenic mushroom that drives berserkir wild. It represses their humanity, so they aren’t in control. They’re acting on animal instinct.”
Amund reaches for my arm, helping me secure the bracer with practiced fingers. “Who would do that?”
I hesitate a moment, searching his face. I hate that I have to be the one to tell Amund this, but he needs to know the truth. “Your brother.”
Amund’s fingers tighten around my wrist. “What?”
“It was him the whole time,” I say. “He’s been killing people for some sick ritual to bring back the seers who died in the Tragedy like his uncle wants. That’s why he put fly agaric in the punch. So their spirits could steal the berserkir’s bodies while their humanity was suppressed.”
Amund shakes his head. “No. No. Nils wouldn’t—”
“He would.” I rest my hand on top of his, meeting his eyes. “He was going to sacrifice me. I had to fight him. I couldn’t… I couldn’t end up like my mom.”
His throat bobs. “Is Nils dead?”
“No,” I say quickly. “But I knocked him out.”
Amund frowns, looking at war with himself.
“And the ritual?” Valerie asks.
“He wasn’t able to finish it, and he won’t be waking up any time soon.”
Valerie gives me an approving grin before flipping a knife over in her hand. “That still leaves us with the berserkr problem. So what do we do about them?”
I look out over the gym.
A boar huffs toward us, its tusks gleaming. More charge after it—
They swarm the now-naked hunter and begin to devour her. Snorting, they chew frantically, smacking their lips together. The sound is sickening.
I swallow my revulsion. “I’m not sure,” I admit. “Nils made it seem like the fly agaric would wear off, but I don’t know how long that takes. We have to keep them busy until then.”
“They seem occupied right now,” Amund says.
“Well, what happens when their food runs out?” Valerie frowns. “The only reason they aren’t attacking us right now is because they have kills already waiting for them. But this won’t be enough to feed all these berserkir.”
“Speaking of which, I think we should probably go, honey,” Patricia whispers urgently like she’s afraid the animals will overhear her. Jim has his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and Bea clings to both of them, her eyes wide.
“She’s right,” Amund says. “We should head for the locker room while we still can.”
I nod. “Let’s go.”
Bea starts to run, but Valerie grabs her arm. “No running. We don’t want to draw the animals’ attention or, worse, trigger their prey chase drive.”
We move slowly over the floor as a group. Amund and I are at the front, with Bea, Jim, and Patricia close behind. Valerie brings up the rear, in case any animals attack from behind.
“Cover your eyes, sweetie,” Patricia whispers to Bea.
My heart lodges in my throat as we approach the boars. The dead hunter is already unrecognizable, her ribs exposed. They chew wetly on her flesh, focused on their food as we move past slowly. I exhale a sigh of relief.
We continue over the slippery floor of the gym.
Amund holds up a hand as a few wolves dart in front of us, dragging the upper half of a body with them. They snarl and snap at each other, fighting over the kill. Quietly, Amund leads us around them, careful not to draw their attention to us.
Finally, we reach the locker room.
Amund pounds his fist on the door. Benches and other objects scrape over the floor. Once the blockade is moved, the door opens. I step aside, letting Bea and my parents through first, and rush in after them. Amund closes the door behind us once we’re all inside.
The locker room is packed with people. Some are standing in shock, while others are pacing along the lockers or seated on the benches, hanging their heads. Helga is making rounds, trying to reassure everyone, while Eva tries to heal the injured.
“We can’t let them hurt anyone else until the fly agaric wears off,” I say to Amund and Valerie.
A low frequency thrums through me.
I clap my hands over my ears. It hurts.
“Edith?” Amund is beside me in an instant. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” My heightened senses are going wild. The air itself changes, crackling with energy. The atmospheric pressure plummets like a storm is coming. Shelter, my instincts blare in alarm. Find shelter.
Wincing, I search the locker room for its source.
“It’s coming from outside.” I grit the words out through my teeth.
Amund cracks the door wide enough to get a look at the gym.
All the animals have stopped eating. Their eyes flash as they look our way.
We quickly close the door.
“They can sense it too,” I say slowly.
“Sense what?” Amund asks, his voice desperate.
“Nils is trying to complete the ritual.”
Amund tenses, searching my face. “I’ll stop him.”
“How? The gym is crawling with berserkir.”
Amund reaches for something in his pocket. The invisibility stave. “It’s my last helm of concealment,” he says, glancing at the lignite, “but it should be enough to allow me to escape.”
Part of me wants to offer to help him. It’s going to be difficult for him to face Nils. I worry my lip between my teeth. But someone has to stay and keep the berserkir from killing everyone else until the fly agaric wears off. If I leave now…
Amund must sense my struggle because he says, “Help the berserkir.”
I nod, grateful he gets it. “Okay. He’s in the seer school, but be careful. Nils… I don’t think you know this version of him. He’s unhinged.”
Amund’s expression doesn’t waver. “He’s still my brother.”