The Crooked Mask

by Rachel Burge

  Loki’s face darkens and for a moment I think he’s going to yell, but instead he laughs. It goes on and on. Just when I think he’s about to stop, he laughs some more. He glances at Karl and then back to me, wagging his finger. ‘Very clever. You know, for a pitiful human, I’m starting to like you.’

  I take a deep breath. ‘So it’s over? You’re going to leave?’

  Loki shrugs. ‘Yes, you won. I can’t say I’m happy about it. But those were the terms.’ I stare at him, waiting for some clever comeback or final bit of trickery, but he just sneers. ‘I’m not one for long goodbyes, so I shall take my leave of you and this place.’ He looks around with disdain, as if he didn’t think much of it to begin with anyway, and then sighs dramatically. ‘I just hope it was worth it. Though I’m sure you checked the terms before entering into a bargain with him. Only a fool wouldn’t.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He looks at me as if I really am stupid. ‘Odin doesn’t care about this place or the humans here any more than I do. He set up the wager because he needed a way to make you ask for his help. A gift for a gift.’ Loki sees my surprised face and snickers. ‘He used those very words, didn’t he? Oh dear, and you took his help without asking the price.’

  I think back to the strange vision of the mask. I needed Grimnir’s help, I had to say yes. I remember Mum’s warning when I first came here – don’t trust anyone – and cold dread trickles down my spine. Could I have got it wrong? No, I don’t believe it. Loki is lying.

  When I don’t say anything, he checks his nails nonchalantly. ‘Well, it’s been a pleasure, as they say. You shall miss me, no doubt. But don’t worry – I have a feeling our paths will cross again one day.’ He bows, waving his arm with a flourish, and then vanishes.

  I stare into space, my muscles tense and my nerves taut, not daring to believe he’s really gone. Long seconds pass and I brace myself for him to return but he doesn’t.

  Relief comes over me, slowly at first and then all at once until I am weak with it. I look at the actors and their eyes are normal. Karl and Ulva hurry along the line, pulling off masks and throwing them on the fire. The faces of gods and animals appear in a swirl of green smoke. One by one the performers stare around, blinking like sleepwalkers waking from a nightmare.

  29

  I GO WITH HIM

  W

  hen we get back to the main site, paramedics and firefighters are there along with the police. The walkways are covered with soot and littered with debris: broken glass, scraps of burnt canvas and people’s dropped belongings. The night air reeks of smoke and is thick with falling ash, so that it looks as if it’s snowing. Two of the smaller tents have completely burned down and the front of the hall of mirrors is charred black. Firefighters jog past, dragging lengths of hose, and first-aiders help the last few tearful visitors, some seemingly suffering from burns and twisted ankles and others with smoke inhalation and shock.

  Karl speaks to a paramedic, who calls for assistance and then hurries down to the field. Some of the actors were able to walk up with us, but most of them are too badly injured. A lady attempts to check me over but I pull away, determined to keep walking even though I don’t know where I’m going. I just know I have to find Stig.

  Performers and visitors shuffle along the path, all with the same dazed look in their eyes. Like them, I stumble and stare around in bewilderment. My heart beats fast with worry but my mind is numb, my thoughts too slow to comprehend the speed of the destruction. An hour or so ago the circus was filled with expectant faces and laughter, and now it’s reduced to a wasteland. I tell myself I should be happy it’s over, but how can I feel joy surrounded by such devastation? And for what? For some twisted game of the gods.

  I can’t ignore the fact that Odin was a part of this. He got me here and then left me to fend for myself. Loki has appeared to me many times, so why couldn’t he? All I had was a brief encounter in a vision. Loki’s departing words replay in my head and I tell myself that it can’t be true. Odin wouldn’t have done all this just to trick me into entering into some kind of bargain with him. But then why isn’t he explaining things? Is he even pleased that I won the wager? I don’t expect gratitude, though it would be nice, but surely I deserve an explanation.

  I head towards the entrance, hoping Stig will be there. Ahead of me, Oskar is standing outside the big top, talking to a policeman. He points towards the field and says something then pushes his glasses onto his head and rubs the bridge of his nose. His eyes look red and sore as if he hasn’t slept for days. He shakes his head and his expression says what everyone is thinking: how could this have happened?

  I turn the corner and circus workers wander by in a daze. Two men in crew jackets talk, their eyes wet with tears, and a group of Valkyries stand in a circle, singing softly with their arms wrapped around one another.

  ‘Martha!’ Ruth rushes towards me, her makeup smeared and her auburn hair covered with ash. ‘Have you seen Karl?’

  ‘Yes, he’s OK. He’s gone back to the field with the paramedics.’

  ‘Are there many hurt down there?’

  I bite my lip, not wanting to tell her.

  Ruth sees my face and stifles a sob. ‘I can’t understand it. They say the fire giant deliberately set fire to performers and people in the crowd. I’ve known him for years, he was a lovely guy, it doesn’t make sense. And Sandrine. She was such a happy person. Why would she do that to herself?’

  I stare at the walkway, not trusting myself to speak. Maybe if I’d done things differently, if I’d figured out Loki’s trickery sooner, no one would have got hurt.

  Ruth puts a finger under my chin and lifts my head. ‘You’re OK though?’

  I nod. ‘I’m sorry about Sandrine. And I’m sorry for what I said about you in the canteen tent.’

  She sniffs. ‘It’s OK. I’ve been meaning to go back to Ireland for years, and I’ve got nothing to stay here for now.’ She embraces me and her shawl is sodden with anguish. But despite her fear, I can tell she’s excited about seeing her daughter again.

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ she presses me. ‘I was worried about you . . . That business with Stig?’

  I shake my head. ‘I was wrong about him.’

  He wasn’t the only one I was wrong about. Ruth felt uneasy about the binding spell she’d done, but it had nothing to do with Nina’s death. I feel bad for suspecting her and think about apologising, but decide some things are best left unsaid.

  Ruth smiles. ‘I need to check on the others, but I’ll see you soon, yes?’ I nod and she hugs me again and whispers, ‘I’m glad you’re OK.’

  She strides away and I turn and look around. Maybe Stig went with the police to give a statement, or perhaps he was injured in the crush. A hot, stifling feeling comes over me, despite the cold. After everything we’ve been through, I have to see him. I need to know he’s OK. I need to hug him and tell him again that I’m sorry.

  I’m heading for the exit of the circus, hoping to find someone to ask, when he rounds the corner, walking as if in a daze. Then he notices me and his eyes glisten. We stand a few paces from one another as ash drifts around us like snowflakes. He holds out his arms and I step into them, and his coat is heavy with fear and love. He’s been wandering the site looking for me, afraid I’d been hurt or worse.

  He holds me tight, then pulls away and gazes at me. A smile spreads across his face and I have a sudden urge to tell him how upset I was when he left and how much I’ve missed him. I think about all the people I read for in the psychic tent. It took courage for them to be vulnerable, to drop their masks and show their true feelings.

  He lowers his head towards mine and our bodies press close. His coat tells me how much he wants me, how he wants to spend days and nights wrapped up with me and never let me go. More impressions surface in my mind, a rush of emotions and flashes of childhood memories, and I have the feeling he wants to give himself to me. He doesn’t want to hold anything back; he wants me to kn
ow everything there is to know about him. I’m familiar with the emotion – it’s how I felt at the cabin.

  We kiss for a few wonderful moments, and then I pull away. ‘I’m sorry for thinking the worst of you, Stig.’

  He shakes his head as if it’s forgotten. ‘We all make mistakes. I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your messages. If I could change things, I would.’ He strokes my hair and whispers, ‘Maybe I could come to the island with you.’

  ‘I thought you were afraid to go back to the cabin.’

  ‘I am, but I want to be with you, Martha.’

  He holds my hand and his glove reveals it’s true. Despite the horror of what happened to Sandrine and seeing the dead at the cabin, he wants to be with me. Something flickers in my chest, but it’s not a buzz of elation. Stig has so much goodness in him, but now I can use my gift properly I can see other things about him too. He runs from his problems, going from one person and place to the next. That’s why he’s so upset with his mum for selling the house he grew up in – he doesn’t feel that he belongs anywhere now. Inside he’s lonely and lost and he thinks the best way to avoid feeling that way is to move on, like his dad always did. And like his dad, he has a romantic notion of riding off into the sunset. The idea of staying put and working things out isn’t quite so appealing.

  Stig squeezes my palm and looks at me hopefully, but I don’t know what to say. He admitted himself that he goes into things too quickly, and something tells me a relationship would be a distraction from what he really needs to do: deal with his feelings about his parents’ break-up and work things out with his mum. If I’m honest, a relationship wouldn’t be right for me either. I have so much to think about with Mum and the tree and starting a new life. As much as it would be lovely to have his support, I need to focus on myself.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t th—’ A ball of sadness rises to my throat as I realise what I’m about to do.

  Stig’s expression darkens, hope replaced by disappointment. He sees my face and gives me a tiny smile. ‘Hey, it’s OK to want something and not at the same time. Life is like that sometimes, complicated.’ There’s such kindness in his voice, I can tell he doesn’t want me to feel bad.

  My heart twists at the thought of losing him. Forcing myself to be strong, I take a deep breath and hold his gaze. ‘I know I didn’t answer you before, but I did miss you.’ Stig arches an eyebrow and I continue. ‘It’s just . . . I need to focus on Mum and things, and I think it would be better if you went home and saw your family.’

  He huffs and I hold his sleeve and pull at the material. ‘It’s what you need to do.’

  Stig gives me a wary look. ‘Is that your professional opinion?’

  I nod and continue, ‘You need to stop running, Stig. You need to work through whatever issues you have with your mum, and you need to make a life for yourself and put down roots.’ He smiles at me wonderingly and dimples appear on his cheeks. ‘If I’d known you were this good, I’d have insisted on my twenty-minute reading in the psychic tent.’ When I don’t answer, his shoulders slump and his voice becomes serious. ‘I suppose you’re right. I can’t keep avoiding Mum forever.’

  I fight back tears and try to smile. ‘Maybe we can meet up as friends some time.’

  ‘I’d like that. And I’m going to text every day.’

  ‘And I might reply . . . if I’m not too busy.’

  He laughs and then glances towards the exit. ‘The police are organising transport and hotel rooms for people. Do you want me to get your bag from the caravan?’

  I take the key from my pocket and hand it to him. ‘Thanks. I’ll meet you by the entrance in a bit.’

  The thought of saying goodbye makes my throat ache with unshed tears. He looks at me and his eyes shine with emotion, as if he knows this could be the last time we’ll be together.

  ‘Back soon, then.’

  I nod and his gaze lingers on me a moment longer, then he turns and walks away. I tell myself it’s for the best, but my heart aches with regret. I know it’s the right thing to do, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. I watch him go, and then my thoughts turn to Mum.

  I phone her and she answers instantly. ‘Martha!’

  ‘Everything is fine. I’m coming home now.’

  ‘Oh, thank goodness. I did as you asked and I went to the tree.’ She sounds out of breath and for a moment I worry she’s scared, but then I realise it’s excitement I can hear in her voice. ‘I met the Norns. They showed me a vision in the well and I understand now. I know why it’s so important that I take care of the tree. You have such an important destiny to fulfil, Martha. You mustn’t worry about me.’

  ‘Really? You spoke to them? That’s amazing. I want to hear all about it when I get back.’

  ‘We’ll see each other soon enough, don’t worry. I love you, Martha, and I’m so proud of you and what you’re about to do.’

  I ask what she means but the line goes dead. I’ll be home soon; she can tell me then.

  Flashing blue and red lights flicker through the wall of trees in the distance. I pause by the ticket tent and gaze across the snowy field. The wooden archway is lit by a single spotlight. Surrounded by swirling smoke and falling ash it looks indestructible, as if it’s been standing for a thousand years and will stand for a thousand more.

  I know I won the wager, but I still can’t believe it’s all over. I glance behind me at the destroyed circus, relieved to finally leave this place, and then turn back and gasp. Nina is standing in front of the archway. She gazes at me with empty black eyes then nods. It feels like a farewell. I have so many questions; was she sent to haunt me against her will? Where will she go now?

  I raise my arm, about to call out, when a figure emerges from the swirling smoke behind her: a man in a grey cloak and a wide-brimmed hat, holding a walking staff. He rests a hand on Nina’s back and a smile spreads across her face. She looks at me one final time, then walks through the archway and vanishes.

  The man touches the brim of his hat in acknowledgement, and I stare at his long grey beard and single eye in wonder. I know who he is, but I want him to tell me.

  ‘Who are you?’ I call.

  He turns and speaks loudly, his voice rich and velvety. ‘A single name have I never had. Grimnir the Masked One, Ofner and Svafner, Gatherer of Lost Souls am I.’ He bangs his walking staff and shadows stream towards him from every direction. I step back as a rush of icy air chills my face. More and more of the dead come, sucked into the archway. They swirl and spin, just like the others did when they followed the rope into the tree, and I smile with relief. The dead won’t be left to wander; he’ll return them to where they belong.

  I walk towards him and stop a few paces away. I can’t let him leave without giving me answers. ‘Why did you choose me? What was it all for? Please, I need to know.’

  Odin holds out his right fist. ‘You like things that are easy to understand, meanings so small and neat you can hold them in the palm of your hand. Win or lose, good or bad – everything black and white, as my friend Loki likes to say. But things are never that simple.’ I study his face and his single blue eye sparkles. ‘Sometimes the truth is grey, and sometimes there is none to be found.’ He uncurls his fingers and his palm is empty.

  The gesture reminds me of the vision when I opened my fist and found the metal pin. I reach my hand to my cloak and touch it now. Odin smiles kindly and his laughter lines deepen. ‘The sign of the Valkyrie. A gift for a gift and the price is danger.’

  Suddenly I understand what he meant in the vision. He wasn’t trying to trick me into asking for his help, he was offering me a reward for winning the wager! If I accept and become a Valkyrie, I need to know it could be dangerous. Loki was twisting things and trying to fill my head with doubt, as usual.

  Odin touches the brim of his hat and adds, ‘My gift to you – now yours for the taking.’

  ‘So the wager . . . it was to test me?’

  Odin strokes his beard. ‘Yes and no. T
he wager was the lesser of two evils – an exercise in damage limitation, if you will. Loki would not be deterred; I took the steps necessary to lessen the impact of his mischief.’

  I nod, accepting his justification. Loki was set on destroying the entire circus and everyone here. People were hurt, but it could have been worse if I hadn’t won the wager.

  ‘As for testing you, I prefer to call it an opportunity for observation. Just because a person can see things others cannot, doesn’t mean they’re able to perceive the truth. That skill requires a certain wisdom. I had to know if you were ready.’

  He looks at me expectantly and a thrill of trepidation sparks and catches fire inside me. Can I really do this, become one of Odin’s chosen ones? I’ve already said goodbye to Stig, and Mum told me not to worry about her or the tree. She said she was proud of what I’m about to do, as if she knew this would happen.

  I grip the pin and a profound sense of belonging radiates through me. Being at the circus has helped me discern truth from lies, but it’s given me something else too. Learning how to use my gift properly has taught me to trust my intuition. I don’t know what the future holds, but this feels right.

  I step forward and ask, ‘So where are we going?’

  Odin chuckles and a universe of possibility twinkles in his eye. ‘Somewhere we can see clearly. Come, I have much to show you.’

  I pause, anxiety fluttering inside me. ‘I will come back, though, to this world, I mean?’

  ‘Of course.’

  There are so many questions I want to ask, so much I want to know, and this is my chance. The women of my family have made countless sacrifices to fulfil their sacred duty to water the tree. Their journals are full of musings about their place with the gods, and I owe it to them to seize this opportunity. Taking a deep breath, I straighten my shoulders and go to his side. The archway glows with brilliant white light, whatever lies beyond it obscured by mist. Odin steps through and I go with him, my heart full of pride.