Ansuz E-Book

Malene Sølvsten

• Herausgeber: Arctis US
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Fantasy, crime, and Norse gods come together when it emerges that a series of bestial murders is connected with an ancient prophecy about the end of the world. Anna can see events from the past, and one night she glimpses an old and horrible murder: a red-haired girl is killed and a rune carved into her back. Shortly afterward, someone begins killing red-haired girls in the same manner, and the rune is found on all of them. Suddenly the little town is full of strangers. They have mysterious powers, and are drawn to Anna, who isn't used to being near other people. Several of the strangers want to help her, but it takes a long time before she knows which of them she can trust. Playing on such classic themes as good versus evil, the book is at once a fantasy, a thriller, and a coming-of-age story.

Leseprobe

Malene Sølvsten

Whisper of the Ravens

Ansuz

Translated from the Danish by Adrienne Alair

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

TRANSLATOR’S NOTE: The passages from “Völuspá” and the Ballad of Vafthruthnir are based on the translation of the Poetic Edda by Henry Adams Bellows, which is in the public domain. They have been changed in some places to align more closely with the Danish version of the text.

W1-Media, Inc.

Imprint Arctis

Stamford, CT, USA

Copyright © 2023 by W1-Media Inc. for this edition

Copyright © Malene Sølvsten & Carlsen, Copenhagen 2016.

Published by agreement with Gyldendal Group Agency

First English edition published by

W1-Media, Inc. / Arctis Books USA 2023

First English-language edition published by W1-Media Inc./Arctis, 2023

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means,

electronoic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without

the prior permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

The Library of Congress Control Number is available.

English translation copyright © Adrienne Alair, 2023

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

ISBN978-1-64690-623-9

www.arctis-books.com

To my mother, who loves fantastical stories.

Part IHeaven’s Rim

The sun, the sibling

of the moon, from the south

Its right hand cast

Over heaven’s rim;

No knowledge it had

where its home should be,

The moon knew not

What might it had,

The stars knew not

Where their stations were

Völuspá

10th century

Prologue

I have always been able to see the past. And right then, I was having a vision. Normally, I don’t get scared when I see past events. I can’t change them anyway, and they can’t hurt me. But this vision made my heart pound, and I could barely breathe for fear.

I was barefoot and felt the winter chill creeping up my legs, but still, I knew I was not really there.

A girl walked right past me. Her face was hidden by her loose, matted hair, which appeared pale gray in the sparse light of the moon.

I found myself at the edge of a forest. A sharp scent of spruce tickled my nostrils, and through the trees, I glimpsed snow-covered fields, glowing coldly in the moonlight.

A man walked through me.

What the hell?

The man followed the girl with the matted hair, and his boots crushed the dry branches with each step.

The girl did not react to the sound but continued onward like a sleepwalker. Her white-and-dark-gray dress, which clung to her body, was made of a thin, almost transparent material.

The man’s clothing was timeless. Dark pants and a light-colored jacket with a hood that was pulled up, so I could not see his face, either.

I spotted the leather cord in his hand.

He shouted something I couldn’t hear, but it made the girl stop next to a spindly birch tree. The only one among the robust spruces. The birch tree was only a little taller than she was, and it had a delicate trunk that reached up toward the dark sky.

The girl’s slim neck was exposed above the low neckline of her dress, and it glowed nearly white in the light of the moon.

A stream of icy fear ran through my chest as the man grabbed an end of the cord in each hand and pulled it taut before him.

“Watch out,” I shouted uselessly. She could not hear me, after all. I was not there, and this had already happened, maybe a few months ago, maybe hundreds of years.

The man came close to the girl’s back and laid his cheek against her hair.

She did not react.

He whispered something in her ear and placed the leather cord around her throat. Gently, almost like a caress.

The man pulled, but the girl neither resisted nor moved.

I shouted again and again that she needed to run, kick, hit. Do something. Anything.

After several very long seconds, the girl sank to her knees and landed facedown on the layer of dry spruce needles covering the forest floor.

The man went down with her, and she flailed her arms weakly but managed only to sweep away some of the spruce needles surrounding her.

Finally, the girl was still.

The man sat hunched over with one knee on either side of the thin body, and he let out a desperate cry as he used both hands to rip her dress apart. His arms moved in strange jerking motions over her body before he stood and reached out to the little birch tree for balance. It snapped in half, and the top dangled from a thin strip of bark. On shaky legs, he disappeared into the adjacent field and out of sight.

The girl lay on her stomach, an arm sticking out at an unnatural angle. Her hair covered her face, which was turned away from me.

A terrified sound forced its way up my throat and out past my lips before I could stop it.

Her back had a symbol carved into it. It resembled a distorted “F,” but the two horizontal strokes sloped downward. Around the symbol were dark, glistening smears of blood.

I wanted to run, but I did not move. The girl’s mutilated back was the only thing I could see.

“Help,” I yelled. “Help me.”

I was pushed hard from the side and tumbled to the forest floor.

A gigantic, hairy head gave me another shove.

Chapter 1

Monster pushed me with his snout. He didn’t put his whole weight into it, but still, each shove nearly rolled me over onto my stomach. Standing on all fours by the side of my bed, he looked down at me, which should say something about his size.

When people ask what breed my dog is, I usually say he’s an Irish Wolfhound mix. What I don’t say is that he’s definitively not mine—he’s very much his own—and I suspect he’s only 0.001% Irish Wolfhound, the rest of him a combination of grizzly bear and mammoth. I tend to keep that part to myself.

“Was I screaming in my sleep, Monster?” I stroked his large head with a limp hand.

He nodded.

No, I corrected myself. Obviously, dogs do not nod.

The August morning sun was bursting through the window, and the clock read 7:30 a.m. Oh no! It was half an hour before I had to show up to my first day of high school.

Here in Denmark, high school lasts for three years, starting at the age of sixteen or seventeen. If my elementary and middle school years were any indication, this was not going to be easy.

I straightened my back, let out a deep breath, and dug around in my closet for a pair of black jeans and a black hoodie.

Monster placed his paw on the chair where I had laid out a yellow T-shirt, so that, for once, I would not greet the world dressed entirely in black. He tilted his head.

“I can’t do it after all,” I told him.

He sighed. This dog seemed to have a very un-dog-like interest in my clothes. And perhaps I assigned him some qualities he could not possibly possess.

“Another day,” I promised as I got dressed. Then I lay down on the floor and started doing push-ups. I did only fifty because I was in a hurry.

We shuffled the few steps to the kitchen. Everything but the toilet and shower were in the same room. I opened a package of chocolate cookies and held one out to Monster. He gave it a resigned look but, with a crunch, began to chew.

I also took a bite, but then put the cookie down. My stomach was already in knots. Instead, I went into the bathroom.

As always, my reflection seemed just a bit foreign. The girl looking back at me had raven-black hair; milk-white skin; large, slightly protruding blue-green eyes; a long, pointed nose; and strong, dark eyebrows—a scar running through one of them.

I have not been lucky with my looks. Or much else.

Out of habit, I let my finger glide along the long, twisted scar that runs from the middle of my chest down between my breasts, ending just above my navel. I have no idea where it came from. The one in my eyebrow, however, I have no doubts about.

Using black eyeliner and mascara, I camouflaged my ugly features. Then I stomped out of the bathroom. With my bag in hand, I shouted to Monster: “Are you coming?”

Monster ran alongside my bike the whole way to the high school, but I did not know what he would do while I endured the day inside. When I parked, he kept running toward Kraghede Forest, the edge of which stretches along the high school’s soccer fields. I watched him and wondered, as always, if it would be the last time I saw him. At the start of the forest, he turned around and gave a loud bark before running off between the trees.

Ravensted High School resembles a handful of gigantic reddish-brown LEGO blocks assembled haphazardly by a giant child. On one side of the high school sits one of the city’s two elementary schools. I attended both briefly. On the other side sits Kraghede Forest. I once saw a map of the city and thought that, from above, the forest resembles an arm hugging Ravensted in a semicircle. The forest’s broad forearm encircles the city to the east, thins out over the northern part, and ends in a finger pointing accusingly toward the west. After this, there is nothing but the boglands of Store Vildmose, ghost towns, and vacation homes, until you hit the west coast and the town of Jagd.

Inside the school, I studied the letter containing practical information and enthusiastic words of welcome that the school had sent.

People gave me a wide berth—aside from the one person whose shoulder bumped painfully into mine. I wasn’t sure if it was intentional or if she simply didn’t notice me. The few who looked in my direction turned up their noses at my black outfit and dark makeup. Or maybe they were simply turning up their noses at me in general.

I retreated against the wall and tried to ignore the other students. The first thing I needed to do was find Orange Hall, room 20.

After walking a short distance, glancing at the map I’d been given, I found out why it was called Orange Hall. Good God. Never in the history of orange had the color been misused to such an extent. The walls, doors, and ceiling were painted in varying shades of the color. Even the acrylic carpeting was tangerine. The pictures that hung on the walls had clearly been selected from the same color spectrum. Someone had taped a piece of paper to the door of room 2O that said, in a variety of colors, “Welcome 1B.” The last thing this aesthetically challenged hallway needed was more bright hues.

I entered the room, which, to my surprise, was half-empty. Even though I had overslept, I managed to arrive with ten minutes to spare. The few people in the room put their heads together, whispering, without saying hello.

Welcome to high school.

The tables were arranged in a horseshoe shape, and I chose a seat at the one with the greatest number of empty chairs. Feeling my chest tightening, I sat on the edge of the chair and kept my eyes on my hands, which were curled into fists on the table.

As the room gradually filled, I could feel the past pressing in. Or rather, the pasts.

I can feel a little from almost everyone. Some more than others. There are very few whose pasts I cannot see at all. For instance, my only friend, Arthur. I can often sense a person’s feelings with only a one-second delay, and I can feel most people’s basic mood. Meaning, the dominant feelings in their life. You could call them auras, although I don’t see rainbows around people. From some, I also get images that resemble little movies. I can bring up flashes from a person’s past if I touch them, so I avoid that, or if they touch me, which they pretty much always do.

Little Mads sat down across from me and didn’t talk to anyone, either. We’d both had a hard time in class the year I lived in Vringelby, but we never joined forces. From a distance, I had witnessed his painful transition from tall child to tall teenager. His growth had clearly not stopped after I left Vringelby Village School a little over three years ago, and with a height well over six-foot-five, he was the bearer of the region’s most ironic nickname. Nicknames are like a sport up here. There’s not much else to do. I’ve been given my fair share, too. Psycho is the one that stuck.

Peter walked in, and at once my entire body was ready to fight. The boy who had taught me to fight—let’s just say as a sparring partner—had become a young man, but his eyes were the same. Malicious and combative. Or maybe that was just when he was looking at me.

I remembered the time he and two other boys chased me through Kraghede Forest.

Being unable to run away from him and his mob had cost me a split eyebrow, four sprained ribs, and a whole lot of pride.

I looked at his somewhat flattened nose, which ruined an otherwise attractive face. He hadn’t been so tough when I first took the bat from him that day, around three years after the attack in the forest. It was stupid of him to go after me alone. Now I caught his eye and rubbed the straight bridge of my own nose. Imagine, he beats me up and bullies me for years, and I smash his nose with a bat one time, and I’m the one who ends up in juvenile detention.

Peter held my gaze and tapped a finger over his eye in the place where the scar shone through my brow.

I vaguely knew others in the room. Mina Ostergaard came gliding in aristocratically. I also saw Niller, Suzuki, Johnny-Bum from Rakkeby, and Alice with the long red hair. I remembered Alice as a quiet girl from the half year I had class with her in North Lyngby. She had never spoken to me or bothered me. I appreciated both facts.

The seats filled up, but the ones on my side of the table were the least popular. In the end, only two empty spots were left.

Exactly.

A chubby boy stuck his head in the doorway and looked around for a free seat. He took a couple of hesitant steps in the direction of the empty chairs on either side of me.

“Thomas, you can sit here,” a blond girl offered.

The relief in his face was palpable as he trudged over to his savior and sat at the corner of the horseshoe, uncomfortably straddling a table leg.

My eyes downcast, I resisted the urge to bang my head on the table.

“Can I sit here?” asked a melodic voice.

I looked up and into a pair of shining blue eyes surrounded by long lashes in the most perfect face I had ever seen. The nose was straight, and the eyes were deep-set above high cheekbones. The lips were shapely and full, the teeth pearly white, and the face surrounded by golden hair. This was, without compare, the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen in my life.

He smiled, but he could have just as well planted a fist in my solar plexus. I thought I heard a synchronized sigh from every girl in the room.

I realized he was still looking at me expectantly, so I gave a brief nod toward the chair.

“I’m Mathias. I just moved here. What’s your name?” He sat down.

What was my name again?

I looked at him with furrowed brows. He was probably wondering if I was all right in the head. The answer would be no, but I’m not mute, either.

“Anna Sakarias,” I stammered.

Mathias held out his hand, which seemed a bit old-fashioned, but when a guy like that offers you his hand, you take it.

I got the strangest pictures from him when our hands met. His past was like a series of photos where the images were out of order. I saw the usual little movie, but then suddenly, there were blind spots and missing links in the chain of events. The action stopped abruptly, and I was shut out.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting the girl who beat up the city’s biggest bully, burned her foster family’s house down, and lives with a killer dog.” He rolled his eyes dramatically.

I didn’t know how to respond to his stream of words, which were incidentally delivered in a flat Copenhagen accent. The story with Peter and the bat had become a local legend, and in the retelling, a silly broken nose had been transformed into a lengthy torture session. My foster family’s house had burned down, that was correct, but I was not the one who set it on fire. In fact, I had gotten the entire family out in time, including their elderly hamster. And Monster had not killed anyone. Not while he had been living with me, in any case. Or at least, I didn’t think so.

“Voilà,” was the only thing I could think to say. I pointed at myself with my right thumb, which could actually be interpreted as me confirming my reputation.

Mathias raised his well-shaped eyebrows, impressed. Something in the doorway caused his face to stiffen in a surprised grimace, which did not make him any less pleasing to look at.

I followed his eyes and saw a girl walking into the room. No. Sashaying was more like it, with hazelnut skin and a cloud of dark corkscrew curls around her head. Her eyes were large and round and the color of maple syrup. Her lips were soft, and her body was narrow and wide in all the right places. A tight neon-yellow-and-royal-blue dress appeared to be painted onto her, and a chain with large purple stones hung around her neck, almost reaching her waist. A violently orange bag was slung across her torso, so its strap accentuated the cleft between her well-formed breasts. I had never seen such a horrifying color combination with such a successful result.

Mathias’s mouth hung open slightly.

She headed directly for us, and what she did when she arrived at our table took me completely by surprise.

She hugged me.

Chapter 2

I sat stiff as a statue as the strange girl wrapped her slim brown arms around me. No one, and I mean absolutely no one, hugs me. Ever. I am not used to physical contact, and her—let’s just say aura—hit me like a freight train. It was crackling, electric, creative, and bubbly.

She took my hands as she sat. “You’re Anna.”

It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t nod.

“I’m Luna.” She might as well have added a ta-daaa.

I looked at her blankly.

“I’m that Luna.”

“Should I know who you are?” I tried not to reveal my bewilderment as I discreetly eased my hands out of her grasp.

The girl only tightened her grip on me. “My parents are your parents’ best friends.”

My face froze in disbelief.

Luna was about to say something more, but at that moment, our homeroom teacher arrived. He introduced himself as Mr. Nielsen, immediately launching into a long explanation of schedules, where we should pick up our books in the basement, and how we could always come to him with our problems. If I had a dollar for every time an adult had assured me of this, I would be pretty well-off. I could double my fortune with every time that turned out not to be the case. When his eyes fell on me, he hurried to look away. It was barely noticeable. That’s how it usually goes when people look at me.

My parents. My only relationship to them was that once, a little less than eighteen years ago, they dumped me into the world and left me.

I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t listening. To my right, Luna was openly staring at me. To my left, Mathias was doing whatever he could to catch a glimpse of Luna.

Mr. Nielsen started to call out our names. “Mathias Jarl Hedskov.”

Mathias raised a muscular arm without taking his eyes off Luna.

When Mr. Nielsen came to Luna, he had to stop and read the name to himself first. “Luna Asfrid Villum Sekibo.”

Mr. Nielsen announced that there would be a short break before we would all introduce ourselves to the class.

Luna was about to say something to me, but I stood up. It is rare for me to be around a lot of people, and even rarer for people to talk to me. So far, the day had been an unfortunate combination of both situations, and it was only 9:00 a.m. I stormed toward the door.

I turned and saw that behind me, Mathias had seized the opportunity, stolen my seat, and started talking to Luna.

When I swung out into Orange Hall, I ran right into a dark-haired boy. It felt like I had torpedoed into a concrete wall, and I nearly toppled over.

With a firm grip on my shoulders, he held me upright. I was hit with a strong scent of forest and fresh air and something I couldn’t identify. He looked down at me with intense, dark eyes. No pictures came from him, but I could sense that he had an important task. A man on a mission.

“Sorry,” I mumbled and tried to slip away. He looked gruffly at me but did not release my shoulders from his iron grasp. He stared at my face and squinted in recognition. I truly was infamous in Ravensted now. Had my reputation really gotten so far ahead of me?

“Varnar!” Janitor Preben stood a short way down the hall. I knew who Preben was. Everyone knows everyone in this small town. But I had never seen this boy before.

He let me go and walked off with fluid, feline steps. It was only then that I saw the green work pants.

“They hire a criminal as an assistant janitor every year.” Peter leaned against the doorway. “When I saw you here, I actually thought you had gotten the job.”

“Maybe I could make your nose look normal again if I smashed it one more time?” I wondered aloud.

“Maybe you would be less repulsive if I gave you a matching scar in your other eyebrow?” he bit back, but then shook his head. “No, you’re so hideous, even your own parents couldn’t bear to look at you.”

He was going to say something else, but his voice broke with a cough.

Behind him stood Luna, her arms at her sides.

Peter looked over his shoulder and smiled. His face changed and suddenly became almost pleasant.

“You’re new here in town, so let me give you a word of advice,” he said to Luna. “Stay away from this one and hang out with us normal people.”

She looked at him with her beautiful cognac-colored eyes. If looks could kill, Peter would have been lying dead on the orange acrylic carpet.

“I would rather drink piss in a pigsty with a bunch of perverted farmers,” she said.

His smile stiffened and he coughed as if he were finding it hard to breathe.

“That can certainly be arranged,” Niller said with a grin as he passed us.

Peter was still coughing when Mr. Nielsen called us back into the classroom.

“Instead of introducing yourselves to the entire classroom, please do so in groups of three. You will then introduce one another to the class,” he said.

Mathias and Luna leaned in to me, and easy as that, our group was formed. It felt strange after a whole lifetime of various teachers having to convince reluctant groups to take me in.

“Who was that idiot?” asked Luna.

“An old friend.” I looked down at the table.

“If that’s one of your friends, I’d hate to meet your enemies.”

Mathias squinted his eyes at Luna. “I’m confused. You know Anna, but she doesn’t know you?”

“I don’t get it. Why haven’t you ever heard of me?” asked Luna. “Haven’t Mia and Jens talked about me?”

I jerked my head up to look at her. How did she know my first foster family?

“It’s been thirteen years since they threw me out. I haven’t seen them since.”

“Why did they throw you out?” asked Luna. I could tell Mathias was ready to kick her under the table, but she continued. “The agreement was that you would live with Mia and Jens until either my parents or your mother could come get you.”

She pursed her full lips and tapped them with a pink fingernail.

I looked down again and inhaled sharply.

Mathias mercifully changed the topic. “What’s your story, Luna?”

Luna leaned back in her chair. “I’m seventeen years old. My parents lived here in town until about six months before I was born. My mom is from Ravensted. My dad is from West Africa, but he spent most of his life in France. They’re aid workers, so we’ve traveled all around the world. Now that I’m starting high school, my mom wanted to come back home.”

Wow. I was clearly not the only one who had lived in a billion different places. But at least Luna had had her parents along for the ride.

When it seemed like Luna had nothing more to say, we both looked at Mathias.

“I’m from Copenhagen,” he started.

“It’s pretty clear that you’re not from here.” Luna laughed.

He stared in fascination at her smiling mouth for a moment before he could continue. “My mom has always worked in hair salons, but she’d never had the means to buy one herself. About three months ago, she was contacted by a man from up here. He had bought an old salon and wanted her to run it. It sounded a little sketchy, but we decided to take the chance. And the guy has stayed away so far, so I think it’s okay.”

“Where’s your dad?” asked Luna.

I was beginning to suspect that she didn’t have the world’s best situational awareness.

Mathias’s face grew dark, and he crossed his arms. “I don’t know who he is.”

“Haven’t you asked your mom? Do you even know his name?” Luna pressed.

I was about to put my hand over her mouth, as the expression on Mathias’s face was almost unbearable. My own had probably looked about the same five minutes earlier. I came to his rescue.

“Who’s going to say what about whom?” I asked.

Mathias and I exchanged a glance. Neither of us wanted Luna to introduce us to the class. Lord only knew what she would come up with.

“Should I just introduce all three of us?” asked Mathias.

I was more than willing to stay seated, and Luna shrugged her shoulders and nodded.

People began their introductions, red-cheeked and giggling. A sour-looking girl named Maja introduced Little Mads, which appeared to cause her physical pain. When it was Mathias’s turn to do the talking, he described me as local and supersweet, and Luna he characterized as a globe-trotter.

I don’t think anyone had ever called me supersweet before.

I tried to keep to myself for the rest of the day, but Mathias and Luna were always around me. They didn’t give up, and they didn’t appear to tire of my one-word answers.

When I finally walked out of the school, Monster was waiting for me in the parking lot. Mathias and Luna, who were trailing at my heels and talking, stopped when they saw the enormous dog.

“Shut up,” Mathias exclaimed.

I pet Monster on the head and walked over to my bike.

“Don’t you want to come down to Frank’s Diner?” Luna shouted after me.

She unlocked a battered Long John–style cargo bike, with a box in front large enough to hold a small human.

I had heard the two of them talking about wanting to go to a café, but by no means had I thought their plans included me.

“And if you don’t want to come, you could at least say goodbye,” Luna continued.

Oh right. Normal people probably say a friendly goodbye to one another.

Too bad I’m not normal.

Without a word, I rode away with Monster galloping at my side.

The next morning, we stood in Brown Hall, waiting to be let in for our first history lesson.

For what it’s worth: If you ever need to decorate a high school and get the idea to design it around an already-dubious color theme, for God’s sake, skip the color brown.

I was having a hard time concentrating in my brown surroundings, and I rubbed my eyes to wake myself up a bit.

The night before, I had once again had the vision of the girl being strangled and mutilated, and again I woke up crying and shaking from fear. This was the first time I had had the same vision twice in a row.

On the color front, Luna gave Brown Hall a run for its money in her orange top, green pants, and purple shoes.

“You’re coming home with me today.” This was a command, not an invitation.

Mathias paced around us.

“I have to do something,” I mumbled.

Luna rolled her eyes.

Mathias began to chatter about something I didn’t quite register, trying with a strained smile to get our attention.

Luna did not back down. “My parents want to meet you.”

I looked down at the toes of my black shoes and counted silently to ten.

“They’re making dinner.”

I made a face. “Isn’t that what parents do every night?”

“They want to get to know you. They want to help you. They want to take care of you.”

With each of Luna’s statements, it felt like a balloon inside me was inflating more and more. Her final sentence caused it to pop.

“You can tell your parents,” I hissed, “that I don’t want any more biological, step-, adoptive, foster, or surrogate parents. More parents are actually the very thing I would most like to be free of. Tell them they’re too late. Seventeen years too late.” And before I could applaud myself for the longest cohesive string of words I had directed toward another person in months, I stormed down Brown Hall. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Luna tried to come after me, but Mathias held her back. I ran toward the exit, which was shaped like a little tunnel, and pushed open the first door, but before I made it to freedom, the other door opened, and the young assistant janitor entered. For the second time, I barged right into him.

The small passageway filled with his scent.

“Where are you going?” He had a slight Scandinavian-sounding accent.

“It doesn’t concern you.” I tried to go around him. He stepped to the side and obstructed my path. I went to the other side, but again he blocked me.

“Move,” I growled.

“It’s safest if you stay inside.” He spoke quietly, but there was determination behind his words.

I pushed him with both hands, but he didn’t move an inch. I pushed him again and felt, like the first time I’d run into him, an iron wall of a body. He was slim and only a head taller than me, but I could not move him from where he stood. I saw now that his black T-shirt was taut across his muscular torso.

He caught my eye with his intense gaze. His dark, longish hair framed his face.

While I’m quite sure I could take—or at least be a worthy opponent against—Peter and most other men, I was one hundred percent sure that I would not stand a chance against Varnar, as I’d just remembered Janitor Preben calling him. It wasn’t just his strong body, although that in and of itself would be pretty difficult to get past. It was his gaze. I could see a willpower much like my own in Varnar’s eyes, but his was stronger. But that did not mean I was thinking of giving up. If I couldn’t hit him, I could insult him.

“Since when are you a police officer? Aren’t you just an assistant janitor?”

A smile flew across Varnar’s lips, and for a split second, his face changed markedly. It was as if I were struck by a fleeting sunbeam. “Yes, right now I am an assistant janitor.” He said the word as if it were foreign in his mouth. His eyes grew even darker than before.

“Go back.”

He took a step in my direction and towered over me.

I had to fight hard not to step back or cast my eyes down.

At that moment, Mathias joined us. He looked at Varnar, who was blocking my way out.

Although I would put my money on Varnar every time if they really came to blows, he cast his eyes down as a sign of capitulation. At the same time, Mathias decided that Varnar had stopped my flight, and that the two of them were therefore allies. Against me, of course. He held out his hand.

“Mathias.”

Varnar took it and introduced himself.

“Anna, won’t you come back? Class just started. You can make it without getting marked absent,” Mathias whispered, which was completely pointless in the little tunnel. “Luna didn’t mean to upset you. She just really wants to be your friend.”

“Yes, Anna. Mathias is right. Go back,” Varnar said before he turned and disappeared the same way he had come, with a you-take-it-from-here look to Mathias.

“I’m not used to having friends.” I pressed my lips together. Why wouldn’t they just leave me alone?

“No one can go through life without friends,” Mathias said gently.

“I’ve gotten along just fine.” I let my eyes come to rest on a point far beyond the glass door.

“Just because you’re not used to having friends, that doesn’t mean we can’t be good for you, and you for us.”

I looked at him when he said us.

He nudged my shoulder. “Come on, Anna. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“As soon as I start to care about you guys, you’ll decide you don’t want to be my friends anymore.” The words were out before I could stop them, and my voice cracked a little.

The teasing tone was completely gone when Mathias spoke: “Oh, Anna . . . That won’t happen.”

I straightened my back and looked straight into his blue eyes. “I just don’t understand why you want to be friends with me.”

Mathias smiled his most charming smile, and my knees grew weak. This asshole knew exactly what he was doing.

“Luna, because she’s Luna, and because in her mind, you were already friends before you were born. She’s fantastic, Anna. You should really give her a chance.”

Okay. Someone had apparently grown fond of someone.

Mathias laughed. “And me, because you’re different, and you make me curious. You’re wild, and you don’t take shit from anyone. And you have that totally crazy dog. You don’t say a whole lot, but when you do, you’re sharp and funny and sarcastic. And you don’t talk like the others, all hou a hou a hou.” He mimicked the thick North Jutland accent.

I started laughing, and it broke my determination.

Mathias opened the door into the hallway, and I trudged after him back to Brown Hall and the history class that had already started.

During the long ten o’clock break, we sat in the school’s café, which was called The Island. We had claimed a plush red three-person sofa that had seen better days.

Luna broke the ice. “It’s fine. You don’t have to come home with me today, but can’t I still tell you what I know about your parents?”

Mathias, who sat between us like a mediator, leaned back in the sofa and busied himself reading a magazine.

“I don’t want to know anything about them.” I tried to sound decisive, without any hysterical undertone. “There’s no reason to. They’re gone.”

“Okay.” Luna looked like she had swallowed a lemon. “Okay. But it’s not my fault that our parents screwed everything up. I don’t know why we didn’t come here sooner. My whole childhood I was told, Maybe we can go home and get Anna next year. Maybe it’ll work out in the summer. But for some reason or another, it never worked out. Until now.”

She reached across Mathias and took my hand. I let her hold it, even though it felt strange. Once again, I felt her electric creativity and an immense strength.

“But we can still be good friends, anyway. I’ve never done anything to you. I can feel it, we have to be friends—we just have to.”

To be fair, she hadn’t done anything to me. What was so wrong with having a friend? Or two? Normal people have friends. Normal people actually like having friends and seek out the company of other people.

But I’m not normal.

Luna squeezed my hand, and my determination wavered. Suddenly, it was impossible to say no. No thanks. The words stayed on my tongue. No thanks. Just say it, Anna.

Luna smiled innocently. “Do you want to go down to Frank’s after class?”

I wanted to say no. No, no, no, and no.

“Okay,” I said. I was surprised to hear the word come out of my mouth.

Mathias smirked down into his magazine.

It was the first time I had been to Frank’s Bar & Diner, which had in record time become a town institution. Frank’s opened about three years ago. At that time, I was living in group home number two. Shortly before that, I had moved out of foster home number seven, after it had burned down. The reason for my exit. They thought I had set the fire. That was back when I was still trying to convince people of my innocence. Now I had reached the point where I couldn’t even be bothered to try.

The whole interior of Frank’s was stainless steel, chrome, and leather. The walls were lined with booths with red leather seats surrounding metal tables. The bar gave off a metallic shine, and next to it stood a jukebox that blasted 1950s music into the room.

I had no doubt that it was Frank who stood behind the bar. His dark-gray pomaded hair was combed back, the sleeves of his black T-shirt were rolled up, and sailor tattoos covered both arms. There was something youthful about him, though he looked like he was in his mid-fifties. The thing that endeared him to me the most was the warmth that twinkled in his eyes.

Luna ran up to the bar and gave him a hug. He returned it with one arm, while he used the other to hand a pint of beer across the counter to a woman, whom he winked at before turning his attention to Luna.

The woman hadn’t seen me, but out of habit, I managed to jump to the side when she turned, before either of us could be doused with beer.

“I thought yesterday was your first time here?” I whispered to Mathias.

“It was. She could make friends with a wooden shoe. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

We walked up to the counter, where Mathias shook Frank’s hand.

Frank scratched at his wide sideburns before extending his hand to me. I took it and got a flash of intelligence and friendliness. I also saw a little boy, about five years old, and I felt a violent wave of love, longing, and sadness. Too bad for Frank. But he was far from the first father in history to be separated from his child. Or—I looked him up and down—maybe grandchild.

“And who are you, my dear?”

I let go of his hand immediately. “Anna. And I’m not your anything.”

With a sour look on my face, I waited for Frank to wrinkle his nose or take a step back. But he just smiled at me.

Why are so many people suddenly noticing me?

“My my, she’s a scrappy one.” Frank wrenched me out of my musings and wiggled his eyebrows at Luna, who nodded with false resignation—like a mother who is confronted with her child’s misconduct.

“We don’t know what to do.” She put her arm around Mathias’s shoulder.

He quickly put his arm around her waist and beamed like the sun.

Luna continued: “We’ve tried everything. Homeopathic medicine, music therapy, exercise, fresh air . . .”

Frank placed his index finger on his chin and furrowed his brows, doctor-like. “It’s her diet that’s the problem. I’m prescribing a milkshake and a chiliburger with fries, stat.”

I rolled my eyes. How nice that they could amuse themselves at my expense.

Before heading into the kitchen, he swung his head toward Luna. “Remember, you start tomorrow.”

We turned to Luna, who gave us a goofy grin. “We agreed on it yesterday. I needed a job, and I thought this could be a fun place to work.”

We sat in a booth. Luna and Mathias ordered only milkshakes because they would be eating dinner at home later. They had families, after all.

Mathias clucked. “Luna, you are impressive. Yesterday you managed to acquire a new class, two new friends, and a new boss. Who knows what you can achieve in a year.”

She laid her hand on his, and he stiffened. “I got a new boss and a new friend. I don’t know yet what you will be to me.”

His cheeks burned, and a happy grin spread across his handsome face.

It suddenly felt quite warm in our little booth.

Fortunately, Frank came with the food and drinks just then, and the mood shifted. Luna dove into her milkshake and chattered away. Mathias looked happy and smitten, and I felt a pinch of guilt because I was sitting there, eating food that had been prepared for me. I decided to splurge and buy some extra food to bring home to Monster.

I let Mathias and Luna leave the diner alone, and I walked up to Frank.

“I’d like another burger to go.”

He turned and studied me.

“Still hungry?” He looked me up and down before smoothing his coiffed gray hair.

I shook my head. “Not for me.”

“Who’s the lucky person, if I may ask?” Frank leaned over the stainless bar with a hand beneath his chin.

“My dog,” I said. “He won’t eat dog food, I can’t cook, and I only have chocolate cookies at home.”

Frank let out a resounding laugh, and deep wrinkles surrounded his eyes.

He whistled toward the kitchen, and out trotted a rottweiler that, to my eyes, looked small and harmless, but on the other hand, I’m used to Monster. I’m sure to other people, Frank’s rottweiler was a large and potentially very dangerous dog.

“This one won’t touch dog food, either. No, you won’t, will you? Oh no you won’t.” This last bit sounded like Frank was speaking to a baby.

“You know what?” Frank said. “We always have a ton of leftovers, and my dog can’t eat them all, though he does try. If you give me five dollars a week, I’ll have my cook put some aside for you every day. You can just pick them up whenever works for you. What kind of dog do you have?”

I looked out the glass door and saw Monster sitting patiently just across the street from Frank’s. How did he find me? He sat near a dog-leash hitch on the wall, so it looked like he was tied up.

“See for yourself.” I pointed.

Frank looked out and his face froze in surprise. “Let’s make that ten dollars.”

I left Frank’s with a bag of food. When I got home and opened it up, between the mixed-up leftover fries, bread, and burger patties, I found a nicely wrapped chicken sandwich and a piece of pie. It’s rare to come across kindness without ulterior motives, and as I ate the sandwich later that evening, I considered what Frank might want in return. Not that he would get it.

Monster was happy. Never in all the time he’d lived with me had he eaten so well. I gave him a plate on the table because he was horribly offended whenever I put his food on the floor. He is tall enough to sit on the floor and eat at my tiny dining table. He ate the entire bag’s contents, and then we watched TV.

Monster laid his enormous head on my lap. An old movie was on, but I think Monster was paying more attention to it than I was.

Friends. I knew the word but didn’t know quite what it meant. Mathias and Luna seemed to have decided that I would be their friend. But did I even know how to be one? There had been very few consistent people in my life. Arthur and Greta were actually the only stable people in my world. Greta was my caseworker, so she could hardly be classified as a friend. So Arthur was the only one I would ever put in that category. Even though he was almost too weird to be.

I laid my head on Monster’s shoulder and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I was standing in the forest.

The man placed the cord around the girl’s neck, and I prepared myself for what I was about to see. What I would be forced to bear witness to. I cursed the fact that I was involuntarily admitted to this horrific performance. And to have to see it again and again.

Why did I keep seeing it?

I watched the scene with as much calm as I could muster, focusing to see if I could recognize anything. But spruce forests all look the same. Through the trees, I saw a field. It followed an upward curve and ended on a hilltop. At the top sat a small white house.

The man tightened the cord around the girl’s neck, and she made a gurgling noise.

Instinctively, I shouted for her to watch out. Anna, you idiot. Even though my brain coolly informed me that I might as well be shouting at characters in a film, I couldn’t stop myself.

The girl sank to her knees. Her arms slumped down at her sides, and she hit the ground with a thump.

I started to scream. Either in my head or out loud, I begged: Wake me up, Monster. Please? Before he gets the knife.

A cold snout prodded me.

I woke with a start in the same position I had fallen asleep in. I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand.

This didn’t feel like my other visions. Something about it was totally off. To clear my mind, I grabbed the remote and switched over to the news channel.

The yellow graphic on the screen announced breaking news. I wanted to switch back to the movie, but when I heard the presenter mention the town of Hjallerup, my finger paused over the button. I had lived there, the year I stayed in group home number one. Nothing much ever happened out there, and the town’s name sounded foreign in the news anchor’s mouth.

“The girl was found this evening on the side of the road near Hjallerup in North Jutland.” Photos of a redheaded girl flashed across the screen. She was sixteen, or maybe a little older. The news ran in a loop, and the presenter started from the beginning.

“We have news that a teenage girl was found dead this evening in North Jutland.” The young journalist wearing pastel colors and horn-rimmed glasses held a dramatic pause. “A jogger found the body of seventeen-year-old Tenna Smith Jensen in a ditch just outside Hjallerup in North Jutland. Tenna Smith Jensen had been reported missing two days ago, but this evening, authorities announced that she was found dead. The police believe that foul play was involved in her death.”

The news cut to pictures of a residential building at dusk. I recognized it immediately.

“Tenna Smith Jensen lived in Kobbelgården Group Home and had not been seen since the day before yesterday.” The pictures I had already seen of the girl and the policeman talking about the cause of death flashed across the screen again.

My old superintendent appeared on the screen. He said what was expected. They were shaken up. They didn’t think Tenna had any enemies. His thoughts went out to her loved ones.

Monster looked intensely at the TV, and once again the cavalcade of images streamed across the screen. No, I didn’t know her. But it was strange, nevertheless.

I turned off the TV while the anchor was mid-sentence.

However many months, years, or centuries apart we were, there was something about Tenna Smith Jensen’s fate that reminded me of the girl from my vision.

Chapter 3

Arthur was standing outside my door when Monster and I came back from our morning run.

“Did you hear?” Arthur didn’t bother with introductory pleasantries.

He didn’t need to, either, because I knew what he was talking about.

“Saw it on the news yesterday.” I unlocked the door and ushered him in.

Monster looked around as if to locate something before throwing himself on the floor.

I kicked off my running shoes in the hall.

Arthur is older than me. I don’t know exactly how old he is, but I met him in the orphanage I was brought to as a four-year-old when I was taken from Jens and Mia’s home. Back then, he must have been an older teenager—I don’t remember much from that time—but from the start, he took on a kind of older-brother role. He visited me in the various foster homes, and many nights he sat by my bed if I couldn’t sleep and told me stories and sang me songs.

His skin was always fair—even more so than mine—but today he was extra pallid.

“She was the same age as you.”

“It’s sad, but it’s not like I knew her or anything,” I said as I reached for an apple on the kitchen table.

Monster lifted his large head.

“It’s okay,” I told the dog. “Did you know her?” I asked Arthur and bit into the apple.

Arthur shook his head. “Nah. Still horrible though.”

He mussed his red hair and shivered as if he were freezing. He always goes around in the same worn-out winter coat—even in summer. I’ve teased him about it many times, but he always brushes me off with a smile. I envy his ability to be completely unconcerned with what others think of him.

“I see you’ve got a new roommate,” said Arthur. “Where did he come from?”

“He just showed up about six months ago.”

Arthur eyed the giant dog, who furrowed his bushy eyebrows. “And so you just let him move in?”

“It was more like he followed me in one day and never left.”

“I thought you liked to live alone.”

“It’s just that I like animals better than people,” I said with a grimace.

Arthur gave me a broad smile. “I’m glad he’s here. He can take care of you.”

“Are you thinking about the murdered girl?” How overprotective was Arthur allowed to be? “It must have been someone she knew. And it was all the way over in Hjallerup.”

Monster looked up, sensing my irritation.

“It’s okay, Monster,” I said again. Relax, dog.

“You call him Monster?” Arthur burst out laughing.

“Well, it’s not like he can tell me his name.” I took two pieces of rye bread and slapped a slice of cheese between them.

Monster looked miserably at the sandwich but took it in his teeth.

Arthur raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on it. He turned back to the other subject.

“Hjallerup is only fifteen miles away. We don’t know who or what is on the loose. I would be happy if you were extra careful for a little while. When you aren’t at school, have your dog with you.” He said dog as though he didn’t think it was a wholly accurate descriptor. “Will you promise me that? Then I’ll be able to rest a little easier.” He smiled to himself.

“I’m pretty much always with Monster. So okay.”

“Good. Thank you, Anna. I have to go now, but I’ll stop by again soon.”

I smiled at him.

“It’s so nice to see you smile. You don’t do it all that often.” Arthur looked at me warmly.

I opened the door for him, and he ran down the stairs with a wave. Monster looked out the door after him.

Tenna was the big topic of conversation when I got to school. Those who had not yet heard what happened received vivid accounts of the few details that had been released. No one knew Tenna except our classmate, Tine, who turned out to be her second cousin.

Tine enjoyed her place in the spotlight, and she gladly shared what she knew about Tenna’s alcoholic father. The three younger siblings. The forced removal. Tine insinuated incest, her eyes gleaming with sensationalism.

Mr. Nielsen entered the classroom. “I’m sure you have already heard what happened in Hjallerup. I understand, Tine, that you were related to the girl.”

Tine hung her head and looked suitably shaken.

Mr. Nielsen’s face shone with sympathy. “You take it easy today. I hope the rest of you will show Tine some extra care in the coming days and weeks.”

I concentrated on Tine and reached out with my power. It was not often that I searched for something specific in a person’s past, but it was actually easy to sort through the memories and find what I was looking for. It might have helped that, right now, Tine was thinking about her second cousin.

Tine had met Tenna only twice in her life. She felt nothing more than indifference and a touch of embarrassment for her.

“And uh . . .” For once, Mr. Nielsen focused on me.

“What was your name? Anna . . . you lived at Kobbelgården, didn’t you?” The question tore me away from spying on Tine’s past. “You must also be shocked by what happened.”

Stop trying to disguise curiosity as compassion, Mr. Nielsen. He certainly was not the first adult to have tried that trick on me.

Without answering, I vaguely shrugged my shoulders.

Mr. Nielsen’s eyes quickly flickered away from me, as if he had forgotten that he had just spoken to me. He looked back out over the class. “I think you should talk to each other about this.” He gave us an admonishing look. “And you should look out for one another. None of this walking home alone at night from Frank’s or other places. We don’t know who did this or what was behind it.”

Mr. Nielsen echoed Arthur’s concern. An adult concern. I don’t think anyone in the room, even for a second, saw themselves suffering the same fate as Tenna.

The mood was strange that day. The teachers didn’t feel like teaching, but they also didn’t want to release us from the protective walls of the school. Most of the day, we hung out on the sofas in The Island under the pretense of doing group work.

Luna stretched.

Mathias’s eyes lingered on her, but he managed to tear them away. “I know you don’t necessarily know everyone who ever lived in that institution, Anna, but did you know her?”

I ran my fingers through my hair. “I didn’t know her. But everyone’s acting like I did.”

He didn’t say anything more. Something made me look up, and I saw Varnar leaning against the wall just down the hall and staring angrily at me. What had I ever done to him? I held his gaze with a hard look.

Luna looked in his direction and leaned toward me. “That guy’s really hot. He’s, like, real bad-boy hot.”

Mathias looked, horrified, from Luna to Varnar.

She whacked him on the arm. “Not for me. For Anna. Are you interested in him?” This last bit was directed at me.

Where the hell did that come from? Here I was, trying to send him a death glare, and Luna interpreted it as my being interested? Maybe this experiment with having friends had turned me soft.

“No, absolutely not,” I said. “I’m just wondering why he’s looking at me like that. As far as I know, I’ve never done anything to him. Maybe I beat up a brother of his?”

Luna gaped. “Beat up?”

Oops.

Mathias didn’t look surprised.

“Anna, have you been going around beating people up?” asked Luna. “It’s one thing to defend yourself. Gods know, you’ve probably needed to.” She looked out the corner of her eyes at Peter, who sat nearby. “But have you actually sought out . . . violence?”

I smiled darkly. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“But violence is powerlessness and destruction.”

“No, Luna. Violence is a tool. If I want to be left in peace, I sometimes have to strike first. If I don’t go after them, sooner or later, they come after me.”

“You reap what you sow. And if you want to reap peace, it’s not a good idea to sow violence and hatred,” said Luna. “Can’t you see that? Think of that girl.”

“Save it for the Peace March, Luna. It’s wasted on me.” We sat for a while without saying anything.

Mathias started to study for class, but he was flipping through the history book so quickly that he couldn’t possibly have been taking it all in. Maybe he was hoping to skim so much that he could come up with some kind of answer if he was called on in the next class.

It was blazing hot out, and Luna had on royal-blue hot pants that very few girls could have gotten away with wearing. Luna got away with it. Her top was red with yellow polka dots, and she wore a narrow orange belt. To complete the look, she had tucked her dark curls into a green turban.

“Anna, why do you always dress in black?” she asked suddenly.

Mathias’s eyes stopped on the page, and he struggled to suppress a laugh.

I looked at Luna’s color bomb of an outfit and considered how to answer diplomatically. “I just like that color the best.”

Luna looked thoughtful. “Did you know that black isn’t really a color? It’s actually the absence of light. Black strangles the light and symbolizes destruction. That’s why I don’t like to wear black.”

Sometimes Luna sounded like a middle-aged alternative healer.

“Maybe I like destruction.” I turned up my lips in a sadistic smile.

Luna opened her mouth to say something, but Mathias slammed his book on the table.

“And did you know that in the Viking Age, there was a group of warriors called berserkers?” He was clearly trying to get us to talk about something else.

Luna took the book and looked through it, while Mathias continued. “Berserker