“If she did this, she can’t be allowed to stay at Skallagrim.”
His gaze flicks to me, sharp as any arrow. “Ifshe did this?”
“I misspoke.”
“If you have any doubts, so will Helga,” Father says. “She’s always been too soft on the berserkir.”
I shift my weight between my feet, feeling unsteady as I carry the body. “No. Of course—”
“Quiet,” Father says harshly. “Valerie is close by.”
We must have reached the seer campus. My mouth snaps shut, and I focus on the task at hand: carrying the corpse. We can’t risk alerting Val or anyone else to our presence here. We move at a quick clip, sticking to the shadows.
The deserted campus is unsettling. After all our hunts, even our footsteps are soundless as we head toward the morgue. Soon, the crumbling, decrepit building looms over us. Like everything else in this part of campus, it’s been long abandoned.
Even though both our hands are full, the door slowly creaks open.
An invitation.
My muscles tighten. Even Father seems tense, like he doesn’t want to be here any more than I do. Inside, the morgue smells of dust and mold, every surface covered by thick cobwebs. This place probably hasn’t been used since the Tragedy occurred. The morgue would have been filled with bodies then.
Countless students died that day.
Not just seers but berserkir. Witches. Hunters.
My uncle.
“Have you been here before?” I ask Father.
“Of course,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate.
Father never speaks of the Tragedy. All I know about his brother is that he was an ambitious seer. The few times Father has mentioned Trygve, he got choked up. Even though Nils is no longer a part of my life, at least he’s alive. I can’t imagine how I would feel if I lost him permanently.
Father’s earlier words come back to me.We can’t save everyone.
I suspect he wasn’t just talking about Emilía.
A heavy, cold weight settles inside my stomach as we continue. The sounds of squeaking wheels and quiet wails still echo through these halls. The stench of death permeates this place, wafting through the stale air.
Finally, Father turns left.
I follow him, carefully steering the body through the doorway.
Metal tables fill the room like a classroom for corpses.
We heft Emilía onto the nearest table with a grunt. Her left arm flops over the side, almost as if she’s reaching for me. But her hand is limp as I move it back. Even with the worst of her injuries hidden underneath Father’s cloak, it does nothing for my guilt.
I look to Father, but his focus seems elsewhere.
“What now?” I ask him.
He shakes his head slowly. “After Helga speaks with her family, her body will be cremated. We have to conceal the truth of how she died in order to keep Skallagrim’s secrets safe from the world.”
“Is that what happened to Trygve?” I ask before I can think better of it.
Father pauses. Nods. “What happened to Emilía could have been worse,” he says thickly. “Much worse. At least she was only mauled byone berserkr.” He has to clear his throat before he can continue. “Helga wants to cover this up, and quickly, so we’re going to investigate this ourselves. I need you to find proof that a berserkr is responsible.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
