This is more like the Fenrir I know, the one who’s looked at all solutions.
“Okay, so it’s agreed: We stay put until the weather subsides.So, how do we deal with whatever shit we’re dealing with?”I ask, pushing my hair behind my ears.
“I think we both need to agree on what exactly is going on here,” Fenrir says, eyeing me carefully.
Inhaling deeply, I consider this.What do I think is going on here?
“Do you believe what my mother wrote in her journal?”I ask.We need to get to the bare bones of this, the million-dollar question.
“Yes,” he replies.
“Why?”I shoot back.
“I don’t know.It feels genuine.”He scratches his chin.
“She could have made it all up.The ravings of a madwoman who’d been secluded in a house for too long with a tyrant of a husband,” I suggest.
“She could, and if I’d have read the journal, having not been in this house, having not witnessed the things I’ve seen over these past few days, then I’d argue that yes, she was deluded, confused, seeing things.”He leans closer to me.“But I have seen things too, felt things, watched you do things I can’t explain.So now I have my own experiences to add to hers.And the more I think about it, the more it all makes sense that what she wrote was true.The question you should be asking yourself is: Do you believe in ghosts?”
He holds my gaze because he already knows my thoughts on this topic.
There are no such things as ghosts.
But before I get a chance to answer him, a phone rings.
FIFTY-TWO
HAYAMI
PRESENT
We stareat each other before our heads swivel to where the sound of the ringtone is coming from.
It’s Willa’s work phone.
“Shit,” I say as Fenrir strides over to the mobile sitting on the bedside table.Panic swells in my chest.
This isn’t a social call, one of her friends checking in.This is her work phone, so there can only be a handful of people calling her and expecting her to answer.
Fenrir picks it up, and we stare at the name on the screen.
Markus.
“What do we do?”I ask, my voice quivering.
He takes a deep breath.“We answer it.”
He presses Answer and places the phone to his ear.My stomach coils in on itself as I lean in to hear what’s being said.
“Hello.”He doesn’t flinch, and I’m amazed by how calm and cool he appears.
“Fenrir?”Markus asks, then doesn’t give him time to answer before he says, “Where’s Willa?”
“She’s in the shower,” he replies, glancing at the open door where the shower stands empty.
“Okay,” Markus says.I can taste the tension in the air, feel it humming down the phone line, and I pray that Markus remains oblivious, because right now, we are fucked.“Well, as soon as she gets out, tell her to call me.”
“Of course.”He angles his thumb over the End Call button, but Markus’s voice carries through the air.
