“Því at ætt mín á enda stendr, hræbarnir sem hlynir marka.”
I steal a glance at Father. His gaze is fixed somewhere beyond the pyre, his brow creased deeply. Normally nothing seems to faze him, but now even he appears troubled. It makes me feel a little less guilty for the knot in my own chest. The lump in my throat.
“Nú erum torvelt,” Helga continues as smoke billows into the darkness.
I stare into the flickering flames, entranced by her words. Emilía’s skin blisters and bubbles. And then… she slowly sits up.
No, her spirit peels away from her body, hovering in the heat of the flames for a moment. In the blink of an eye, she shoots toward me, her mouth open in a scream as she grasps at me.
I stumble backward, stunned.
Hands grab my shoulders.
Not a ghost’s this time. Father’s.
He pulls me around to face him. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Nothing,” I grunt. Now that I look again, there is no spirit in sight. I’m haunted by my own guilt. “Just exhausted, that’s all.”
Slowly, he releases me. “I see.”
Somehow, I’ve seemed to disappoint him again. Clenching my jaw, I turn away and focus on the fire. I can feel the heat on my skin along with my shame. Whatever is going on with me, I need to get it under control. And quickly.
Father grows increasingly agitated the longer we remain, his gaze darting around the abandoned campus. I follow his attention, but there’s nothing there. At least nothing that I can see. Yet for some reason, Father looks… uneasy now. What did he witness here during the Tragedy? What hasn’t he shared with me?
Once Helga finishes the poem, she steps back and stands on my other side. “Hopefully this will be the last time I do this,” she mutters.
“It will be,” I tell her. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Helga’s dark gaze meets mine, the bright flames dancing in her eyes. “You had better.”
Sleep never comes. Every time I close my eyes, I see Emilía screaming as she shot toward me, her hands outstretched and desperate. Even now, as I slump in my chair in Heightened Senses, with every blink I see her.
Rubbing my forehead, I force my eyes open.
I cannot doze off.
“Of courseshe’salready here,” Val says, taking the seat beside me.
Tala is the only one sitting on the opposite side of the classroom.Most berserkir show up late, unlike us. Hunters are always early.
“I know,” I say flatly. “She was here when I arrived.”
“Funny, isn’t it?” Val says, leaning back in her chair. “She’s always early, but her boyfriend never shows up on time. I guess what they say is true. Opposites attract and all.”
Even though Tala has heightened hearing too—better than ours—she ignores Val and starts flipping through her notes.
Once again, Val has failed to get a rise out of her. Which only seems to irritate Val more. Over the past couple of years, this has become their routine. Val huffs, pulling out her own notebook. “Though I guess if that werereallytrue, then she’d be dating a hunter, wouldn’t she?”
Tala glares in our direction. “I can hear you, you know.”
“Oh, I know,” Val says sweetly, smiling at her.
After a moment, she leans closer to me, whispering in my ear. “As if She Wolf would ever be caught dead with ahunter.”
Tala squirms in her seat. “I’m human, too, you know.”
The door bursts open before they can keep fighting. Or flirting?
