Chapter Fifty Amund
I allow myself one last look at Edith before I leave.
Then I activate the helm of concealment and slip outside the locker room, closing the door behind me. A bear rises on its hind legs nearby. I freeze, gripping the lignite more tightly, but instead of attacking, the bear lumbers past me.
I advance through the gym quickly. So far, the stave seems to be working. None of the animals have detected me. Yet. Several bodies litter the gym floor, a grim reminder of what will happen to me if this lignite runs out.
I feel sick to my stomach as I look around the gym.
This is all because of my brother. When Edith told me, I couldn’t believe her.
Didn’t want to. I can’t imagine my younger brother could be capable of killing in cold blood.
If Nils really is responsible, then I have to stop him before he does something even worse.
As soon as I’m outside, cold air shocks my system.
My eyes dart around campus as I scan for more threats. To my surprise, Skallagrim looks… peaceful. Quiet. There’s no indication of the horrors that happened inside the gym. Out here, it seems as normal as any other November night.
But if Nils completes the ritual, Skallagrim will never be the same.
I sprint for the seer school, feet pounding over pavement. Hopefully I’m not too late. I fling open the school doors and dash down the hall. A foul smell leads me to a classroom at the end. I burst inside, taking in the scene.
Busted chains.
Entrails on the floor.
Father, unmoving. My heart misses a beat. He must have figured out who the killer really was and went to confront Nils on his own. That’s why he wasn’t at the dance.
I rush over to him and check his pulse.
Still alive.
And then I see my brother. Nothing could prepare me for the sight of Nils, bloody and broken. The wolf pelt hangs in tatters on his body. His right arm is limp at his side, but he uses his other hand to shape the intestines on the floor, gritting his teeth.
Edith’s warning comes back to me. I don’t think you know this version of him. He’s unhinged.
I shake Father, trying desperately to wake him.
“Of course you’d run right to him,” Nils says bitterly. My lignite must have crumbled because he’s looking straight at me.
“See? I told you.” The quiet hiss comes from the shadowed crevices, jolting me. “You don’t matter to your brother, just as I didn’t matter to mine.”
Nils winces as he arranges the entrails. “I already know that.”
I peer into the dark corner of the room. Someone stands there, but I can’t see them clearly. Edith warned me someone else could be here.
“Who is that?” I finally manage to get out.
Nils remains quiet.
“What have you done?” I shake my head helplessly, some part of me still refusing to believe he could be responsible for all of this. “Did you really kill those people?” I ask him slowly. I can’t even bring myself to say their names aloud.
“I had to” is all Nils says.
Realization punches through me.
Emilía. Idris. Their brutalized bodies.
Nils did that.
My little brother murdered them and attacked me and Edith. My little brother whom I built pillow forts for and read Donald Duck comics to and played sticks and stones with. My little brother who loved drinking Kókómjólk and was terrified of the yule lads.
I have to look away, staring down at the slimy string of intestine he holds in his hands. “Are those…”
Nils shakes his head. “These belong to that wild berserkr you and Father recently killed.” His words turn my stomach.
I unknowingly helped with this twisted ritual of his.
After all, my brother isn’t the only one who’s taken life.
So have I. “I preserved the viscera in a jar until now,” he continues, “figuring it was one less person I’d have to kill. ”
I swallow, still trying to wrap my head around this. “Why Idris? Why would you kill him?”
“At first I was just going to kill Dorian, but then when I saw you and Edith… I wanted to take someone you cared about away from you, like you took Edith from me.” I grind my teeth together.
The only thing worse than Idris dying is knowing he died because of me.
“I wanted to punish you,” Nils adds, “since I couldn’t bring myself to kill you. ”
“You almost did.”
I wish he would have.
At least then I wouldn’t have to face the fact that my little brother is a murderer.
“That was an accident,” Nils says after a beat. “I only wanted to hurt you a little, but then I lost control when I saw you.”
Father sits up with a low groan. “So you did have it in you to be a hunter.”
I wince at his words. Why does Father almost sound pleased?
“I have to admit, I didn’t think you did,” Father continues, full of bitter dismay. “You bested your brother, defeated Idris, and even eluded me. If I wasn’t so horrified by your actions, I might be impressed.”
Father is looking at Nils with begrudging respect. All I can bring myself to feel is disgust. If this is what it takes to earn Father’s esteem, then I want no part of it. Not if it means betraying everything I believe in.
Not if it means betraying myself.
“If only you weren’t such a misguided fool, son,” Father finishes.
Nils frowns at him. “Really, now I’m your son again?”
“You always were.”
Nils stares at Father, the intestines forgotten in his hands.
“Lies,” the voice hisses from the shadows. “He only says this now that he is afraid of you.”
Father turns toward the voice. “You’re the liar, Trygve. Like always.”
Trygve.
As in Uncle Trygve?
A ghastly figure emerges from the dark recesses of the room.
Uncle Trygve looks nothing like his portrait, drenched in dark blood.
Flaps of flesh hang from his face. His nose and lips have been ripped off, exposing a skeletal smile.
I knew he was mauled by multiple berserkir, but I never fully grasped how horrific that could be.
Until now.
“He had his chance,” Trygve says, laying a ghostly hand on Nils’s shoulder. “When he cast you out, I took you in. Who taught you how to use your seer power? Who helped you embrace what you are?”
“Trygve cannot be trusted,” Father says, an edge in his voice. “No spirit can be. He’s manipulating you just like he was manipulated thirty years ago.”
Nils looks up at Trygve. “What is he talking about?”
“The spirit who told me of this ritual claimed that we would be granted limitless power if we performed it. Of course, I believed it was merely a ritual to invite spirits into our realm, not to find them new bodies. I was… misled.
“But this time? I have been nothing but honest with you. You know exactly what this ritual is for. I will finally be your father in the flesh, not only in spirit. My secret society will be restored. You will be not only accepted but admired. We will be your family.”
I take a slow step toward Nils. “You already have a family.”
“They don’t understand you, not like we do,” Trygve says. “Which is why you must complete the ritual.”
“You wouldn’t understand, Amund. How could you?” Nils asks, squeezing the intestines tighter. “You aren’t a seer. You haven’t seen the things I have.”
Against my will, my gaze shifts to my uncle’s gruesome face.
“I was just a child when I started seeing him,” Nils says quietly. “I would be in bed, only to see Uncle lying on the ceiling, staring back at me with empty eyes, his blood dripping onto my face as I lay there screaming.”
“Your night terrors.” I feel sick to my stomach.
Nils nods. “I wish I only saw them at night.”
“What do you mean?”
“At first, Trygve followed Dad wherever he went. Sometimes he’d reach out of the walls, grabbing at him.
He’d crouch on top of the television, watching him the same way we’d watch a show.
He and the other seers who died in the Tragedy would surround our table while we ate, crowding into the kitchen. I thought I was losing my mind.”
A pit forms in my stomach. I always held on to memories of those times when we were a happy family. A whole one. Now I realize how different everything must have seemed to Nils. We grew up surrounded by ghosts, and I never knew.
“One day, I asked Dad why he was being followed,” Nils continues. “He slapped me. It was the first time he ever hit me. He couldn’t stand that I was a seer like him, because it meant I could see all his ghosts too.”
“I’m sorry,” I say heavily.
“I should have stopped Trygve sooner,” Father says. “I’ve been haunted by my own inaction since the Tragedy. You’ve seen how many died because of that damned ritual. After that, I swore I’d never use seer powers again.”
Nils grips the intestines tighter as he faces our father.
“I was so scared and confused. You were the only one who could help me, or even understand what I was going through. But you wouldn’t.
You wanted to forget it all. Then Uncle Trygve found me.
He taught me what I was and how to use my ability. I didn’t have to be afraid anymore.
“Until you found out Uncle was teaching me. You lost it. I ran into my room and climbed the bookcase trying to get away from you. But I couldn’t. Remember? You beat me so bad you broke your own fingers.”
“He should have helped you, but instead he hurt you,” Trygve adds. “You deserve a father who loves you as I do.”
Disgusted, I look at Father. Nils was just a boy. It should have been me, I think. Not Nils. That was no fair fight—no fight at all. Someone who is truly strong would never need to take their anger out on someone smaller and weaker, especially not a child.
“That’s when Mother took you and left, isn’t it?”
Nils nods. His eyes lock with mine. “And you chose him.”
“That’s right,” Trygve goads Nils. “Both of our brothers betrayed us.”