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The woman lowered the sunglasses. When their eyes met, and when she spoke in a language only Ulla understood, the world closed back together.

Her mother touched Beskyddaren. The sunlight hit the diamonds, dappling her face in light. “He did his job well, did he not?”

Chapter Sixteen

Mora, Minnesota

Ulla

The giant Dala horse loomed in the town center of Mora, Minnesota, when they arrived. Ulla gasped and pointed emphatically, exclaiming in Swedish to her mother that someone made a giant statue of Beskyddaren! And Ulla’s mother lowered her shades, her excited eyes matching Ulla’s. With a wink she reminded her that Beskyddaren was super-secret, and, look, this big one was not as pretty. The statue didn’t sparkle like Beskyddaren, did it?

Ronja stopped Tina at the Marathon gas station. Instead of asking Ulla to fill the tank, she gave her thirty-five cents to get a pop.

Ulla walked to the Coca-Cola vending machine and saw a shadow dart from the corner. Perhaps it had been a trick of the moon, a thumbnail in the sky.

She slipped the quarter and dime into the coin slot and pressed the square box for a Dr. Pepper. The machine tumbled the pop down. She crouched and drove her hand inside the box to grab it, but the bottle was stuck. Ulla yanked and throttled the cold glass. No budging. She let go, huffed, and kicked the red contraption. She cussed in Swedish, hoping her mother wasn’t in earshot.

Someone touched her shoulder. Startled, Ulla turned to face a girl her same height. The girl maneuvered her hand into the black hole, jiggled her wrist, and emerged with the Dr. Pepper. She jammed it into the bottle cap opener. With a pop, it fizzed, and brown, bubbly liquid dribbled over her skin.

Ulla wasn’t interested in the soda pop anymore.

The girl seemed to wait, uncomfortable, for Ulla to take it, but Ulla was too busy studying her features. The girl wore clothes that appeared outdated and three sizes too small. She was all knobby knees and stick arms. But to Ulla, the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen.

Like a fairy elf from a picture book.

The girl’s long-lashed eyes were a similar shade of blue to her own, but they glowed against her ghostly skin and shiny black hair that covered her forehead in jagged, overgrown bangs. Her cheeks were streaked, as if maybe she’d been sweaty, or crying, and accidentally smudged dirt on them.

“Keep it.” Ulla was pleased she said so because the girl’s stunning eyes fully emerged in surprised delight.

Ulla’s mother called her name. “Did you find a friend?” she asked in Swedish.

The girl tilted her head in curiosity at the foreign language. Ulla ignored her mother. “I’m Ulla.”

With a closed-mouth smile, the girl walked away, treasure in hand, and with a shy wave, disappeared around the building.

Ulla didn’t recognize the tiny, pleasant ripple in her stomach.

Their new home was a split-level on the outskirts of Mora with two bedrooms and two bathrooms. A chain-link fence outlined the lawn’s perimeter but was sagging, sinking into the earth. By now, Ulla had experienced life in a wealthy neighborhood, a car, and a modest duplex in Minneapolis. But she didn’t care where she lived. Because she had her mother. Although, she did ask, “Why can’t we live with Melia and Shorty?”

“Nej, min lilla älskling. We have to protect them from my past.”

Melia and Shorty’s fierce hugs would be forever glued upon Ulla’s skin. Melia had whispered in her ear, “Remember, I will always find you, but you also know where to find me, liebchen.” She pressed a phone number into Ulla’s hands. “Memorize it.”

“Where’s Peter?” Ulla had asked her mother as they drove away.

“Prison,” her mother whisper-choked. “Please don’t ask me about him. Ever again.”

So, Ulla packed Peter away into a corner of her heart where it didn’t hurt so much.

Their new home also had a backyard with rustling trees and endless space to spread her arms and free her legs. But more than that? A sparkling lake that held in its depths treasures and creatures untold. Maybe even a sunken car!

When Ulla ran to it, her mother chased her and said, “Nej, älskling, it’s too dangerous.” She took Ulla into her arms that night as they lay on a pile of blankets and told her about bäckahästen—a beautiful but deadly creature that hid near bodies of water, circling them, looking for children. “It will take you on its back and dive under the water, drowning and devouring you. It can appear as many different entities, sometimes a handsome prince or a fairy. It sings or plays music to lure you into the water . . . or the ice.”

Ulla searched high and low those early days for bäckahästen. She set out fruit, dug up shiny rocks, and placed notes on top detailing negotiations. She’d creep outside once her mother was asleep, onto the rotting pine dock and dip a toe in the water.

She and her mother had neighbors visit. They liked to bring cookies and banana bread. Her mother was polite but spoke little and never allowed them inside.

Ulla watched their skeptical faces in the market, the gas station, and the post office. How their heads swiveled in curiosity. None of it should’ve been threatening, but Ulla listened to her mother’s brief hellos, vague introductions, and an occasional shameless lie. “Her father died suddenly of a heart attack. We wanted a slower, quieter pace of life. Yes, yes, very tragic for us.”