Suddenly I couldn’t have been any more awake.
How had I put it aside, even for a moment—even in sleep? You’d think those girls could dominate everything, including my dreams. But maybe they had. Because faint, hazy images followed in a line, on the heels of the things I knew were true. The things I remembered. Or thought I remembered. There was no way I’d made up the way the whole bar had gone catatonic at the sight of those girls.
Yet as my thoughts roamed backward, separating the fact from fantasy and the truth from PTSD, I suddenly wasn’t so sure where to find the line. Maybe Kjell’s eyes hadn’t gone milky white. Maybe they’d just glazed over. And it didn’t quite seem possible that no one had cared when the blond girl, Astrid, had broken that man’s nose and left him bleeding on the ground. Things like that just didn’t happen today in civilized society.
“Ten minutes,” Grandmother called up the stairs. “I packed your breakfast. And I’ll pack you up too if you’re not out soon. Something tells me you won’t want to show your face in public wrapped in an old lady’s tracksuit.”
I couldn’t imagine how so much time had passed while I’d been just lying there, thinking. I rolled out of bed, whipped my hair into a ponytail, and threw on the clothes I’d worn the night before, ignoring the cigarette smoke still clinging to my sweater.
Once we were in the car, my thoughts seemed even more tangled, memories melding into dreams, mixing things I wished had happened—like me throwing Astrid right through the window—with visions that horrified me, like me abandoning Kjell and walking across the bar to stand behind Astrid. Dying to learn everything she was willing to teach me. Wanting to be just like her.
I never get carsick, but my stomach felt abandoned by gravity as Grandmother guided her sedan along the roller coaster of mountain roads.
“Something on your mind?” Grandmother asked, clearing her throat first, as if breaking a tense silence that somehow I hadn’t noticed.
I traced the slats of the air vent with my index finger, realizing I’d been adjusting them for the last fifteen minutes. Switching the air current back and forth and up and down was oddly soothing.
There was a long pause.
“What is it you’d like to ask me?” Grandmother asked.
I shouldn’t have been so surprised. She’d always been way too able to read me. And she knew it. Because I didn’t realize until that moment, until she asked me dead-on, that I’d made up my mind to tell her. And I’d been waiting for the chance, deciding how far I’d take my story. In my heart I’d always known I had to tell her what had happened, even if it meant getting Kjell and myself in trouble. After all, why would I keep secrets on behalf of a boy I’d known less than twenty-four hours? Especially when he knowingly broke her rules?
I shifted until I could covertly watch her reaction as I backed up and dumped a whole truckload of crazy at her feet.
“I was just wondering”—I paused to decide exactly how to proceed—“about Valkyries. Kjell told me there are rumors about them, um, being around. Last night I think we saw two of them.” Blunt seemed the best way to break the ice.
“Where?” Grandmother asked.
“Just a pub in Selje,” I replied. “Inside this old hotel.”
The expression on Grandmother’s face could not have been more neutral, which made me squirm in my seat.
“Right next to the water? Old Johann’s place. Strange that Kjell took you there when I specifically told him not to leave the boundaries of Skavøpoll.”
So many things about that statement were odd. Not only was she focusing on the least important part of what I’d just said, she acted like it wasn’t strange at all to impose a rule on me through a boy I barely knew. “In the future, I expect you and your brother to obey that rule unswervingly. Am I clear?”
I nodded. It was unsettling indeed that she was suddenly so interested in our whereabouts, given everything Kjell had told me.
Grandmother lapsed back into silence, and it took every inch of my spine to demand, “What about the rest of what I said—about the Valkyries? Kjell also said people have been disappearing.”
“Kjell was just trying to scare you,” Grandmother replied dismissively. “There’s no such thing as the boogeyman, either. Boys will tell all kinds of stories to impress a pretty girl. Make that heart of yours flutter. Kids run away from small-town life. Or go on a trip without telling everyone. It doesn’t mean they disappeared. Or were carried off by fairies, trolls, or Valkyries. Time to increase the sensitivity on your bullshit detector.”
That was exactly the kind of response I’d expected from her. The irony was, my bullshit detector went wild at the way she delivered it. “You’re hiding something,” I said, before I’d fully thought through what I was accusing her of. “I heard you telling Kjell to be careful. Now suddenly we can’t leave town without you? You can’t pretend nothing is going on.”
But it seemed like she had every intention of doing just that. Instead of replying, she clicked the wiper switch forward, dousing the windshield in fluid. Even though the windshield couldn’t be more clean.
“Some kids from town went with us,” I said. “They called you a witch. And said I’m one too. They accused me of trying to kidnap Kjell. What aren’t you telling me? I need to know.”
Grandmother glanced at me, true surprise in her eyes. “I’m not telling you how disappointed I am in Kjell for breaking my rules, and for befriending idiots who repeat ridiculous stories,” she said, her voice getting softer at the end. “Yes, some boys have left town, and the gossips are doing what gossips do best—speculating and spreading rumors. And even after fifty years of knowing me, half the people in this town still whisper that I’m dangerous, all because I came to town alone, with no family. And early on, there were some misunderstandings.” She paused, a strange ferocity glinting in her eyes at some distant memory I hoped she’d share. “There was an avalanche, and a year later a devastating boat accident. And in my years of travel I had learned a few things about survival. I thought I was helping when I rescued those people. But instead I set gossiping tongues in motion. And they never really stopped. If I can rescue a drowning boat crew, what’s to stop me from kidnapping a few boys?” Her lips curled in a wry smile as she reached over and patted my hand.
At least I now knew the real reason the old lady had attacked me in the bakery.
“But no matter,” Grandmother said. “Let’s let small-minded people live within the confines of their small-minded assumptions while the rest of us carry on with our lives.” It was clear she thought those words closed the topic. And any other day, the magnitude of what I’d just learned about her might have been enough to keep my brain busy for a while.
But not that day. “Still. The girls we saw—they just weren’t normal. I’m sure of it,” I pressed.
Grandmother sighed. “An example, please.”
“Well, first, they were ridiculously pretty. Unbelievable. Then one of them hit this guy when he grabbed her leg. I think she broke his nose. Then she walked right over and started talking to Kjell. She knew all about him being a medical student even though he hadn’t told her, and … and she tried to force him to leave with her.” It sounded so inexcusably ordinary, even to my own ears.
Which is probably why Grandmother interrupted me. “Kjell is a nice-looking boy. You can pardon another girl for taking a chance,” she said. “As for the hitting, I’d look the other way if you defended yourself in bar.”
“There’s more,” I said, taking a deep breath and holding it so that the rest practically exploded out of me—because this was the part of the memory I still distrusted. “Everyone’s eyes turned white. Solid white. And one of the girls, named Astrid, put one finger to my forehead and said Valkyrie.”
“Astrid saw you?” she asked. Her voice was unnaturally calm.
“You know her?” But I didn’t need her answer. I could hear the familiarity of the name on my grandmother’s tongue.
But “No,” she said
. “It’s surprising this Astrid girl would go after Kjell if you were standing there, that’s all.” If I hadn’t been staring at her hands on the steering wheel, I might have accepted her explanation. But I’d seen the way her fingers tensed around the leather like talons strangling their prey. The skin across her knuckles was stretched so thin, it almost melted away, leaving just bone behind. The hands of a skeleton.
“That’s all you have to say?” I demanded. “What about the Valkyrie part?”
“These supposed disappearances have the whole region on edge. Fabricating outlandish explanations. Name-calling. Sounds to me like Astrid was exploiting their fears. Really, Ellie, you’re smarter than this.” She paused, slowing down and changing lanes. Driving like a confused old lady—something my lead-footed grandmother never did.
“Speaking of fears, I’m terrified I’ll miss the airport exit. Last time I went ten miles before I realized I’d gone too far. You’re in charge of watching for it.”
Her explanation was a cover-up, followed by a blatant attempt to change the subject. Still, I let her words slip right into my ear unhindered. Maybe if I let them sit there long enough, I could start to believe them myself, because the truth was getting weirder by the second. Grandmother was holding something back, something big. And it wasn’t going to be easy dragging it out of the usually blunt and brazen Hilda Overholt.
WE PULLED UP to the curb at the main terminal, and after a few minutes of evading airport traffic cops, we saw Graham stroll through the sliding glass doors. I jumped out of the car and ran to greet him—so intently focused on Graham, I didn’t see Tucker Halloway until I ran smack into him. Actually, he ran right into me. In typical Tucker fashion, he stepped in my way the second before I would have reached Graham.
“Tuck?” I came to a stunned stop as my shoulder slammed into his chest. I took a step back, wishing my skin wasn’t so hyperaware of that brief moment of contact. “What are you doing here?”
“Missed you, Ells,” Tuck said, leaning way too close. “It was torture. I changed my ticket just to see your smiling face.”
“Then you’re out of luck,” I said, determined not to let his flirting confuse me. “With you around, it’ll be a while before I smile again.” I passed him by and folded myself under Graham’s extended arm.
“I missed you too,” Graham said, squeezing my shoulder. “Didn’t Grandmother tell you Tuck was coming early? Guess she didn’t know it was the start of World War Seven. Or are we already on Seventeen? Either way, there was a change of plans. Summer school starts in two weeks.” Graham gave Tucker a pointed look. “Someone skipped too much English class to get credit.”
“Actually, that’s still open to debate,” Tuck told me. “They have yet to produce a single shred of evidence that I wasn’t there. Everyone knows old Ms. Turner is so nearsighted, she wouldn’t know if it was me or a shrub planted in my seat.”
“Please tell me you didn’t actually test that theory,” Graham muttered, even as he cracked a grin and headed toward Grandmother’s car, keeping his arm draped over my shoulder.
“No hug for me, Ells?” Tuck fell into step beside us and tugged at my sleeve like a puppy.
“How about a hug around the neck with my hands?” It slipped out before I realized how harsh it sounded.
But Tuck laughed. “Easy there, tiger.” He gave me his flashiest grin. “Save some ammo for later. We’ve got two weeks. And you’re already throwing some pretty heavy shrapnel.”
After what had happened the night before, slipping back into my routine with Tuck offered the best kind of release I’d ever imagined. It was amazing I’d never appreciated it before, how Tuck could frustrate me and make me laugh all at once.
Even thirteen hours of airplane travel couldn’t take the shine off him. I had to bite my cheek hard not to smile right back at him as I prepared to fire the winning shot.
The words never made it past my lips. “Stop,” Graham ordered. “Mandatory truce. Effective immediately.” Then he lifted his arm from my shoulder and took the five remaining steps toward Grandmother alone, crushing her in his arms. As tall as Grandmother was, she looked dainty next to Graham’s broad frame.
“Mrs. Overholt—or may I call you Hilda?” Tuck said, ramping into overdrive as he gave my grandmother a hug. He hadn’t seen her for more than four years, but Tucker was never one to be shy. “Now we see where Graham and Ellie get their good looks.” He winked at me.
I rolled my eyes.
Then I looked at Graham standing beside her, trying to restrain Tuck before he said something even more inappropriate.
Even though my instincts warned me against it, now that Graham was actually here, it seemed so easy, so logical to tell him what had happened with Kjell in the pub.
He’d know exactly what to say and do to make Grandmother tell us everything she knew. But that moment of temptation was immediately followed by a horrifying image. Graham staring at me from white-on-white eyes—if that was what had really happened. My memories were still confused, tripping over themselves. All I knew was those girls were dangerous, and knowing the truth about them hadn’t helped Kjell or Sven one bit.
It was better to wait and watch, and if I ever saw those girls again, I’d keep Graham and Tuck as far away from them as possible. Without either of them ever being the wiser. Because Graham and Tucker weren’t the kind of boys who’d just back down or run away from trouble.
So I bit my lip, hoping ignorance would be enough to keep them out of the line of fire. Even as the new voice in my head assured me it wouldn’t be.
WE ATE DINNER early that night, and Tuck and Graham went to bed immediately after. They’d practically fallen asleep at the table. After my own war with jet lag just one short week earlier, I could sympathize, but I still felt a pang of disappointment as Grandmother and I settled down to a quiet game of cribbage—alone. All day, we hadn’t even acknowledged the conversation we’d had in the car, and I wondered if the tension between us was all in my head or if she felt it too.
At eleven I went up to my room and wrote down everything I’d noticed or overheard about the disappearances and those girls in the bar. But try as I might to find a rational, real-world explanation for everything I’d seen, nothing fit. And a rudimentary search for Valkyries on my phone had led me to video-game blogs and dating websites I’d rather not know existed.
Before long I was staring out the window. The world seemed clearer, more alive than ever that night, as if it would whisper all the answers to my questions right into my ear. Suddenly my skin itched to be out under the starlight. I’d always found it easier to think up on the roof—which drove my mother absolutely nuts. Fortunately, she wasn’t there to voice her opinion.
I pushed the window open as wide as it would go, smelling the jasmine in my grandmother’s garden mingled with the trees in the pine forest beyond. I stepped onto the window ledge and tested the rain gutter and steel shutters to make sure they still held my weight. Sure enough, they were as solid and still as a ladder put there just for me. In three quick steps, I was up on the roof, overlooking the fjord.
I leaned back against the steep slant of the peaked roof, picking at the blades of long, weedy grass. The sod roof was my favorite thing about my grandmother’s house. In Norway, living roofs were pretty standard, and I’d even seen the neighbors put a goat on their house, to give it a trim. The night was that much more magical when I was suspended in the air, two stories above the ground, yet at the same time securely rooted to earth and green.
I’d been sitting there for about ten minutes when I heard a tapping noise to my right. I crawled along the edge of the roof and peered over until I saw its source.
Tucker.
He was looking up at me or, more specifically, at my ankle hovering above the lawn.
“Ells, move back. You’re making me nervous,” he said, leaning out his window.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” I asked, even though I welcomed the company.
“I wis
h,” he said softly. “I was thirsty. Now I can’t get back to sleep. Then I heard this scampering noise, like a mouse. And there was your shoe dangling out in space.” He paused. “That’s dangerous, you know.”
“Lots of things are far more dangerous,” I replied, leaning back on my elbows and dangling both my legs off the edge of the roof.
“Don’t,” Tuck gasped. Which made it all too tempting to tease him like that. I sat up and scooted forward until I was perched precariously on the edge, looking down at him.
Tuck made a funny noise in his throat. “God, Ells. Seriously, please, just lean back again.”
“Of everyone in the whole world, you’re the last person I’d expect to be so uptight,” I said, leaning forward farther still.
“If I come up there, will you lean back?”
“If you come up, I’ll jump.”
“Oh.” He sounded hurt. His head disappeared back through his window.
“Tuck?” I called softly—actually feeling sorry. Tuck so rarely displayed any emotion other than impenetrable arrogance that I wasn’t quite sure how to deal with his reaction.
“I was just kidding,” I said. “I won’t jump. I promise. Join me. It’s incredible—you can see the whole fjord. You just need to mind your manners. This is about silent appreciation.” I slid backward, making room for him.
“I’m all for silence,” Tuck said as his hands appeared on the edge of the roof seconds later. He hauled himself over the side. “And appreciation.” His teeth flashed white, and I could picture how he’d look if I could turn on the lights—perfect smile, rumpled T-shirt, and the myriad assorted details that made him our Tuck.
“Really?” I said.
“Of course,” Tuck replied, like he couldn’t fathom the meaning behind my sarcasm.
“Pardon me for being skeptical,” I said softly. “It’s just that parties and senior cheerleaders are usually more within your purview than quiet moonlit contemplation.”
Tuck just settled on the grass next to me, like he hadn’t heard. “Wow,” he whispered, looking out over the twinkling lights of the slumbering town. Beyond that, the water of the fjord reflected the path of the moonlight and the dark mountains straining toward the stars. “You weren’t kidding,” he whispered.
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