“They will never find the weapon, will they?” Helga asks.
My knees suddenly go weak, so I drop back into the seat. “Because I didn’t have one. I must have accidentally scratched him.”
Helga gives me a knowing look and reaches for my hand. “With these nails? I think not.” She unfurls my fingers. “Claws, however…”
I rip my hand away. “What?”
“They were claw marks, weren’t they?” she asks matter-of-factly.
I stare at her. How could Helga possibly know that?
Shejustgot here, and I haven’t told anyone.
“I’d hoped that perhaps you would be spared,” Helga continues, pressing her thin lips together. “Most never awaken to their powers anymore. And if they do, well…”
“Most what?” I ask, rubbing my throbbing temples.
“Berserkir,” Helga says solemnly.
“What are you talking about?” I blink a few times. “You mean like… berserkers?”
As I say the word aloud, I realize the way Helga pronounces it sounds different. Sharper. Berserkers were mentioned briefly when we covered the Viking age in European history. They’re supposed to be violent, battle-crazed warriors who ran into combat shirtless, wearing wolfskins instead of armor, and biting their shields like wild animals.
But that can’t be what Helga is talking about.
It wouldn’t make any sense.
Her eye contact is unwavering as she says, “True berserkir didn’t just fight with animalistic frenzy. Theybecameanimals. Either a boar or wolf or bear.” I scoff, unable to help myself, but Helga continues, “The transformation was triggered by intense anger. That raw emotion taps into something primal within all of us, but only berserkir could fully utilize it to turn animal. And those ancient warriors passeddown this ability to some of their descendants—including, it seems,you, Edith.”
Is this some kind of joke?
People turning into animals? Has Helga lost her mind?
“You can’t be serious,” I say, staring at her.
Helga doesn’t flinch. “Oh, I most certainly am.”
I glance down at my nails—still round. Not like when I slapped Jason. Impossible or not, I saw paleclaws.
I know I did.
Helga shakes her head, still frowning. “Most berserkir remain latent their whole lives—especially women, given that society is always teaching us to suppress our anger instead of expressing it. I wanted that for you, I did. After everything you went through, I’d hoped you’d be able to live a normal life.”
“What you’re saying, it’s not… This isn’t possible,” I manage to get out.
Not me being a berserkrnorliving a normal life.
“Of course, there was always the possibility you’d awaken,” Helga continues, unfazed. “That’s why I took on your case. My sisters and I work to ensure others like you are protected. As part of that, we monitor all the known berserkir bloodlines.”
Berserkir bloodlines.
My hands tighten on the plastic arms of the chair. “Wait, you don’t mean…?”
“Your father was a berserkr as well. A wolf, in fact.”
I shake my head so hard my hair sways. “Don’t be ridiculous. I would remember if—”
Helga leans forward, unzipping her briefcase.
