The Circle (Hammer)

by Elfgren, Sara B. ,Strandberg, Mats

  The book also taught them a magical version of hide-and-seek, or ‘pendulation’ –that was the word Ida had used when she’d tried to explain the procedure. A Chosen One would stand in Nicolaus’s living room while the others would go into the kitchen, shut the door between the two rooms and sit at the kitchen table. Then they would spread a diagram of the apartment on the table. The one doing the exercise would take Ida’s silver necklace and let it hang like a pendulum above the diagram.

  Vanessa was the first to try. She took Ida’s necklace while Linnéa waited in the living room. At first the little silver heart just hung there without anything happening. But when she started moving it back and forth over the diagram and concentrated on Linnéa, it swung faster and faster in a clockwise motion over a certain point.

  ‘Linnéa is standing to the left of the coffee-table,’ Vanessa said.

  Nicolaus opened the door, looked into the living room and reported that Vanessa was right. ‘Pendulation’ doesn’t always work for Vanessa, but she manages to find Linnéa each time.

  It was strange in the beginning, but the novelty soon wore off. The book insisted they should practise this over and over again, but never provided them with anything new. Minoo’s constant babble about how the book was both a transmitter and a receiver, and that whatever it showed them had to be important, was sounding more and more hollow with every passing week.

  But now, after two months, the transmitter finally changed frequencies. They’ve finally learnt something that could help them find out the truth about Gustaf and his doppelganger.

  A bell jangles when Vanessa opens the door to the Crystal Cave. The plucked harp strings, burbling water and birdsong are filtering out of the speakers. Vanessa feels as if someone is plucking directly at her nerves.

  She almost bumps into Monika of Café Monique, who smiles so widely that her eyes almost disappear behind her cheeks. It’s the first time Vanessa has ever seen her smile. She’s carrying a big, rustling plastic bag in her arms with ‘Crystal Cave’ written on the side in the same curlicue lettering as the sign outside.

  ‘Vanessa! How nice to see you!’ she says, and adds, in a conspiratorial whisper, ‘Isn’t she amazing?’

  It takes Vanessa a second to realise she’s talking about Mona Moonbeam.

  ‘Absolutely,’ she answers. ‘Totally amazing.’

  ‘Good luck,’ Monika says, and gives her a gentle nudge before she leaves.

  Vanessa notices that the shelves are full of new products. Most striking among them are a couple of large crystal fountains with dolphins suspended above the water’s surface, frozen in their frolic. The copper dragon that was standing by the red curtain has gone. Not only is the Crystal Cave still there, but business seems to be booming.

  Vanessa waits until she’s alone with Mona. She stops at the shelf of porcelain cherubs and fingers the price tag stuck to the biggest. The one Linnéa had liked.

  The doorbell jingles again as the last customer leaves. Mona is still behind the counter, lighting a cigarette. ‘I assume you’re not here to buy a dream-catcher,’ she says.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘That kind of knick-knack is the last thing a real witch would be interested in,’ Mona says.

  Vanessa’s shock must have registered clearly on her face because Mona is grinning with such satisfaction that both rows of yellowed teeth are showing. She goes to the door, locks it and flips the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed’.

  ‘How did you know I was a witch?’ Vanessa asks.

  ‘I saw it in your hands. And in the teeth. Not that I needed the Ogham characters. It’s just fun to take out that pouch in front of cheeky little girls.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say anything when you read my fortune?’

  ‘You didn’t know it yourself then, and it wasn’t my responsibility to tell you. That job was already taken.’

  ‘If you could see that I’m a witch, does that mean you’re also—’

  ‘What a silly question. Of course I am.’

  When Vanessa had suggested the Crystal Cave to the others, it had been a gamble. She’d thought that Mona was just your typical crystal-rubbing ex-hippie. A bit nutty, but harmless. Or, rather, Vanessa hoped she was, considering the fortune she’d received. If it’s true, then goodbye Wille, hello, death. Vanessa looks at Mona, sizing her up. Tries to decide what to do. If Mona is a witch … what sort of witch is she? Does she know the principal? Does she report to the Council?

  Vanessa looks around the shop. She looks at the crystal fountains. Thinks about Monika’s smile. Monika who never smiles. Looks towards the red curtain. Looks at Mona Moonbeam as she stands there, puffing away, in her denim outfit with butterflies on it. Suddenly she understands how everything is connected.

  ‘You’re tricking them,’ Vanessa says.

  Mona raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything.

  ‘When you read my fortune, you first tried to pull some kind of hocus-pocus crap on me to make me believe all your clichés. I felt there was something … and I wouldn’t fall for it. That was when you got annoyed, wasn’t it? And then you told my fortune for real.’

  ‘I was annoyed as soon as I laid eyes on you,’ Mona says. ‘And as for your fortune, I remember you weren’t especially pleased to hear the truth.’

  She moves closer to Vanessa and blows a huge cloud of smoke in her face. ‘Can you honestly believe people want to hear their actual fortunes?’ she asks. ‘They want to feel happy when they walk out of here. Have a little hope for their future. And I’d say they need it in this backwater.’

  ‘So is this some act of charity for you?’ Vanessa says ironically.

  ‘Of course not,’ Mona snaps. ‘It’s business. A happy customer is a regular customer. What I do doesn’t harm anyone.’

  For once Vanessa is grateful to the principal for constantly droning on about the Council.

  You’re not allowed to practise magic without the Council’s express permission.

  You’re not allowed to use magic to break non-magical laws.

  And you’re not allowed to reveal yourselves as witches to the non-magic public.

  ‘I wonder if the Council would see it that way,’ she says. ‘You dupe people. And you’re the first successful business in the City Mall since it was built. Not especially discreet.’

  Mona is about to take a drag, but her hand stops before it reaches her mouth. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want to know how we can help each other,’ Vanessa answers. ‘I’ll keep quiet about your activities if you keep quiet about mine.’

  Mona stares at her, as if she’s trying to decide whether Vanessa’s threat is serious. Vanessa stares back at her. Doesn’t even blink. Mona is the type who would never respect her if she looked away. Finally Mona snorts, but Vanessa spots a glint of appreciation beneath those turquoise-daubed eyelids.

  ‘You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that. Mona Moonbeam is no snitch, that much I can promise you, but she’s not someone you can push around either. Don’t you forget that.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Vanessa says. She hesitates. ‘There’s something I need to get hold of. Do you have things in stock that aren’t on display in the shop?’

  Mona lights a new cigarette from the old one and smiles wanly. ‘Tell me straight out what you’re looking for.’

  ‘Ectoplasm,’ Vanessa says.

  Mona smirks and nods, then ducks behind the curtain.

  Vanessa takes the opportunity to text Minoo. ‘Got the ectoplasm.’

  Now all that’s left is the problem with Anna-Karin.

  Mona’s bracelet rattles at the other side of the curtain. When she comes out she’s holding a brown glass jar filled with a light-coloured cream. ‘Extra virgin,’ Mona says, and holds out the jar.

  It’s warm – warmer than it could have become from Mona’s hand. Vanessa tips the jar to the side. The ectoplasm barely moves. It looks like partially congealed meringue. She unscrews the lid and sniffs. It is odourless, the olfac
tory equivalent of deafening silence. ‘What exactly is this stuff?’

  ‘Soul matter,’ Mona answers.

  ‘Never heard of it. How do you make it?’

  ‘You don’t. It’s excreted by witches when they act as mediums for the dead.’

  Vanessa recalls the white substance oozing out of the corner of Ida’s mouth when she hovered in the fairground that first night. She puts the lid back on and screws it tight. The warm contents jiggle inside the jar.

  ‘Looks to me like you’re scared of your first ritual,’ Mona says.

  ‘Who says it’s my first?’

  Mona doesn’t answer. She just rattles out her irritating chuckle and lights another cigarette. If chain smoking were a sporting event, she’d be world champion several times over. Vanessa looks at the jar again. She doesn’t like asking Mona questions, but no one else can answer them.

  ‘Do you have to use this … drool?’

  ‘I don’t know if you have to exactly,’ Mona says. ‘If you’re just doing some light magic you can use chalk or graphite to draw the circles. If you’re in a round room you can use the walls as the outer circle. But proper ecto binds the energy better than anything else. If you try to perform heavy-duty magic with chalk circles the whole thing’ll go poof.’

  ‘Poof?’

  ‘That cute little head of yours will go up in smoke.’

  Vanessa is suddenly very thankful that the Crystal Cave exists. They had discussed trying something else if they couldn’t get their hands on ectoplasm.

  ‘How much is it?’ Vanessa asks.

  ‘Five grand.’

  ‘Five thousand?’ That’s exactly how much money Vanessa has in her bag. Hardly a coincidence, she thinks. It’s no easy job negotiating with a clairvoyant.

  ‘Were you expecting a student discount? It’s not like you just spit out all this stuff in a single session. It takes a long time to collect enough for a jar.’

  ‘But five thousand? Seriously?’ Vanessa says quickly, so that she doesn’t have to listen to a lengthy description of the finer points of spittle harvesting.

  ‘If you want to blame someone, blame the Council,’ Mona says. ‘They control all official trade in ectoplasm. That means the rest of us have to add a surcharge for the risks we take. I’m sure you understand how it works, considering what your boyfriend does for a living. Have you dumped him yet, by the way?’

  Vanessa doesn’t answer. She digs out ten five-hundred-crown notes from her bag. They’re crumpled. Nicolaus literally had them hidden under his mattress.

  Five thousand crowns is more money than Vanessa has ever held. Mona takes it without blinking. It’s obvious she’s used to dealing with such sums. She puts the jar of ectoplasm into one of her crackly plastic bags and hands it to Vanessa across the counter.

  ‘Do come again, won’t you?’ she says. ‘You should all shop here more often because I’ve stocked up. With the biggest trans-dimensional war about to start, business should be brisk.’

  ‘Do you sell to those collaborating with demons, too?’ Vanessa asks.

  Mona just smiles and releases a cloud of smoke from her nostrils. She looks like an old dragon in its lair.

  ‘Sorry, I forgot,’ Vanessa says contemptuously. ‘“Mona Moonbeam is no snitch.” The only thing that matters to you is business, yes? All customers are good customers.’

  ‘Well well well, I see you’re not as blonde as you look.’ Mona smirks.

  Vanessa makes for the exit without a word.

  ‘You’ve still got nGéadal hanging over you. Don’t forget that,’ Mona calls after her.

  It is only once Vanessa has made it out of the desolate City Mall that she realises exactly what Mona said. You should all shop here more often. She knows they’re more than one. Vanessa isn’t even surprised.

  ‘Nessa!’

  It’s a voice she hasn’t heard for three months. Vanessa turns and sees her mother outside the Crystal Cave.

  ‘Hello,’ her mother says.

  Her hair is bleached a few shades lighter. She’s wearing a jacket Vanessa doesn’t recognise. Signs that her life has continued without her daughter. ‘Hi,’ Vanessa answers.

  An awkward silence settles between them. There are a thousand things to say, a thousand reasons to stay silent.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ Vanessa says.

  Her mother nods. ‘See you around,’ she says, as if they were casual acquaintances who had bumped into each other on the street. She opens the door to the Crystal Cave. A puff of incense and she’s gone.

  Vanessa looks after her. What had she expected?

  I miss you.

  Sorry.

  Come home.

  47

  ANNA-KARIN HEARS A laugh echo behind her and stops in the corridor leading to the school library. She stares at the floor until the girl gang has walked past. It’s an old habit that’s come back. Of course they weren’t laughing at her. No one does any more.

  The first week after the fire she had refused to go to school or leave the farm. She had spent her days in front of the TV.

  ‘I would have thought you cared enough about your grandpa to visit him at least once,’ her mother snapped. The mood swings have gone. Her mother is back to her permanently disgruntled self.

  On Sunday the doorbell had rung. Anna-Karin was sitting there with her plastered foot propped up, a bowl of crisps in her lap and no intention of going to see who it was. But the person outside didn’t give up and eventually let themselves in through the unlocked door.

  Adriana Lopez’s elegant appearance made the living room look shabby. Anna-Karin was happy that her mother wasn’t in.

  ‘How are you?’ Adriana asked, and sat down in Grandpa’s armchair.

  Anna-Karin said nothing. She wouldn’t answer any of the principal’s questions. She had decided never to tell anyone what had happened that night. How recklessly she had behaved. That the ‘accident’ hadn’t been an accident. And that she had very nearly caused Grandpa’s death. He will never be the same again, according to her mother.

  Eventually the principal got tired of Anna-Karin’s silence, stood up and said that she expected to see her at school the following day.

  Only when she was on her way out of the door did Anna-Karin say, ‘I’ve stopped using my powers. And I’ll never use them again. Ever. You can tell that to the Council and the others. I’m going to stay away from all of you. It’s best for everyone.’

  ‘But you have been Chosen.’

  Anna-Karin didn’t respond to that either.

  When she went back to school for the first time after the Christmas break, she lingered at the gates for a long time on her crutches. Would they hate her more than ever? Would they have worked out that the fat BO Ho, the manure-stinking peasant had been tricking them all along?

  But then Julia and Felicia were walking towards her with Ida. Julia and Felicia didn’t even look in her direction. It wasn’t that they ignored her. They weren’t treating her like air. She was air. Not the slightest hint of recognition.

  But Ida saw Anna-Karin and let her gaze linger on her for a few seconds. Then she pretended to laugh at something Felicia had said, and they disappeared in a cloud of blonde hair and a fresh blossom scent.

  Two months have gone by since then and Anna-Karin has become the ghost of Engelsfors School. It’s as if all memory of her has been expunged. For better and for worse. Even her teachers forget about her sometimes, fail to see her raised hand or hesitate before reading out her name from the register.

  Anna-Karin hurries into the library and looks around furtively. The librarian doesn’t look up when the ghost girl mumbles, ‘Hello.’

  She slips into the little niche where she usually sits. It’s hidden behind a bookshelf and most people don’t realise it’s there. She holes up there with a physics book in a well-worn black armchair. The last few weeks she’s spent every free moment filling her head with facts to stop herself thinking.

  ‘Hi,’ she hears Linnéa say.
>
  Anna-Karin doesn’t look up. Instead she lowers her head and hides behind her hair. She’s already said she doesn’t want to speak to them. At least a hundred times.

  ‘I’m not leaving here until you speak to me,’ Linnéa says.

  Then you’ll have a long wait, Anna-Karin thinks. I’ve practised being silent for nine years.

  ‘What’s the matter with you? You can’t do this. We need you. And I think you need us, too.’

  Anna-Karin remains stubbornly silent. But she’s surprised. Linnéa doesn’t sound like she usually does. She actually sounds as if she cares. She’s usually so impatient, as if she’s pissed off with the whole world.

  ‘Okay.’ Linnéa sighs. ‘But something’s happened. Something good.’

  ‘What?’ Anna-Karin mumbles, with reluctant curiosity.

  Linnéa leans forward and lowers her voice.

  ‘The book has shown us how to make a truth serum that we’ll give to Gustaf. Then we’ll get him to tell us about his doppelganger. But to make the serum we have to perform a ritual. It’s a much more powerful kind of magic than we’ve ever done before. And you have to be there. It’s all up to you and me. Earth and water.’

  She might have known, Anna-Karin thinks. Linnéa wants something, which was why she pretended to care about her.

  ‘No,’ she answers. ‘You’ll have to do it without me.’

  ‘Anna-Karin …’

  ‘There’s no point in pestering me. Go away.’

  Linnéa is rummaging in her bag. ‘Not until you’ve helped us.’ She takes out a needle and a lighter.

  Anna-Karin shrinks in her chair. Linnéa holds the needle in the lighter’s flame. Then takes out a Kleenex and a little test tube. ‘If you’re not going to help us, then we need your blood. According to the book, the ritual is a lot more dangerous if you’re not there when we lay down the circles, but if we put some of your blood into the power symbol, it’ll make it a little easier for me to control the energy. “Little” being the operative word here.’

  Anna-Karin understands only about half of what Linnéa just said. The others must have made huge strides without her.