It’s the same thing she told Tala, but now she no longer sounds so sure. She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself, too.
If this is how the hunters are acting when someone has been attacked, what would they do if they knew someone died? The thought makes me shudder. Maybe this was why Helga wanted to keep Emilía’s death quiet.
“Berserkir are people too, aren’t they?” Idris asks.
I can’t help but think of Edith. Of everything she’s been through.
She didn’t choose to be a berserkr, either.
“They are,” Val admits quietly. “But look, all I know is that if someone had done something about the berserkr who attacked my family sooner, they would still be alive.”
Maybe that’s true, butanyoneis capable of violence.
“Yeah,” someone else calls out. “She’s right. A lot of our loved ones would still be here.”
“We’re too lenient on berserkir,” Dorian says. “Especially you, Idris. Hell, you even married one. Why should we listen to anything you say? You’re not even a real hunter anymore. We should just fucking get rid of them all.”
Quiet falls over the classroom.
In his dangerous words, I hear my father’s. Some hunters view Idris’s affection for the berserkir as weakness and his retirement as a personal failing. To them, the worst mistake a hunter can make is falling in love with your prey.
Idris turns to Dorian, his voice a touch harder. “Elaborate.”
“Society no longer needs the berserkir,” Dorian continues. “Theyjust pose a threat now. It’s only a matter of time before they give in to their violent tendencies and kill someone.”
A lot of the hunters nod in agreement.
But Val doesn’t.
She looks conflicted.
I swallow the words I want to say, and they taste like my mother’s bitter medicine. I remember the first time I met Val. She was brought to Skallagrim after her whole family was killed. A berserkr attacked the annual Durand family cookout in France. Val was ten years old. She found a knife and hid under a picnic table.
She survived. No one else did.
It’s one of the things we never discuss.
Unlike Val, I didn’t become a hunter because of personal tragedy. Most hunters have been recruited by Skallagrim after their family or loved ones were killed by berserkir, because only those who felt that violence firsthand would dedicate their lives to hunting them. I’m not motivated by vengeance like the rest.
I became a hunter because of my father.
Nothing else.
How can I argue with them when they have conviction I’ll never understand? The only reason I picked up my bow and arrow to begin with was to earn my father’s praise. Suddenly, it seems selfish. I hunt and kill not because I believe in it but because someone else told me to.
What does that make me?
Unless I can find proof Isaac is responsible, the situation is going to escalate. And quickly. As I look around the room full of hunters, I realize it’s only a matter of time until they decide to take matters into their own hands. They’ll start hunting any berserkr they have doubts about. Chaos will erupt.
Skallagrim—the only home I have—will tear itself apart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINEEDITH
I’m on edge as I walk through the hunter campus. Surrounded by killers, I hug my arms against myself protectively. The hunters glare as I go by. There’s a familiar gleam of violence in their eyes. Even though a berserkr attacked me, am I any safer here?
Or is this just a different kind of danger?
I pick up my pace, heading for what I assume is the training grounds. It looks more like a field than anything. Long wooden racks line either side with spears leaning against them. The tips of the spears are pointing toward me as I approach. Not a very welcoming sight to say the least.
