Anna-Karin squeezes her phone in her hand.
She is standing in the small copse on the edge of Dammsjön Lake, while the dusk is spreading over the sky. She ought to go home now, before it gets dark, but moving seems impossible.
She appreciated that Minoo had been trying to tell her about the interrogation in a way that wouldn’t drive her crazy with fear. Considerate, but pointless.
The interrogations have begun. It’s really happening now.
She thinks about the money that Nicolaus hid in the mattress, cash that she is now hiding in the case in her wardrobe. What if she just ran away? The others would surely understand …
But the Council would find me, she thinks. They are everywhere in the entire world. I could never hide from them.
She looks out over the still surface of Dammsjön Lake. It reflects the images of the trees on the other side of the lake.
She hasn’t been here for several years. Not since some of the elementary-schoolers were made to come here to camp overnight. A twenty-four-hour nightmare of nature-quiz walks, sausage grilling and swimming, all for the sake of ‘getting to know each other’. Anna-Karin was the only one who didn’t have somebody to share her tent, and she lay awake all night because Erik and Ida had told her that they would set fire to her sleeping bag after she fell asleep.
The fox-bite part of her hand begins to throb and feel hot. Anna-Karin rubs the scar with the fingers of her other hand and ambles along the shore, looking for plantain leaves.
A loud splash from somewhere in the lake. Anna-Karin looks up.
Thin rings are forming far out and spreading over the water. Perhaps a fish leapt up. That must have been it.
Another splash.
Her eyes search the water. New rings are forming, closer to the shore where she stands.
Anna-Karin begins to back away towards the wood when a slurping noise from the other side of the lake sets up an echo.
Must be the fish at play, she tells herself. Normal, nothing to worry about.
In the middle of the lake, the water begins to move gently, around and around in a circle.
And then the water slowly retreats away from the shoreline and moves towards the center. Inch by inch, the wet sandy bottom of the lake is exposed.
Nothing odd about this, she thinks. Nothing weird at all.
She keeps going backwards until she stumbles and almost falls over into a lot of shrubs.
The lake withdraws from the land by a few more inches.
Utter stillness.
Only tiny ripples disturb the surface and make the reflected trees tremble.
And then, a horrible slurping noise resounds everywhere.
Anna-Karin doesn’t even dare to look. She turns and runs until she reaches the road. Or track. It is little more than two wide furrows on either side of a ridge covered in yellowing grass. Around her, the night is drawing in.
She is just within sight of the main road when a shadow steals out in front of her.
Two amber eyes shine in the darkness. They are fixed on her and she stops instantly.
The fox.
Anna-Karin sees a white flash, then herself standing in the middle of the track. The perspective is obliquely from below and she is gigantic.
A new flash. Anna-Karin’s legs fold under her. She goes down on her knees.
When she opens her eyes the fox is standing immediately in front of her.
Their eyes meet.
And, suddenly, Anna-Karin understands.
Through a complex process, a witch can create a connection with an animal.
Adriana’s words, the first time she spoke to the Chosen Ones in her office.
I chose a raven. Or, rather, it chose me.
My familiar can act as my eyes or ears when my own aren’t up to the task.
The fox is Anna-Karin’s familiar.
It has chosen her.
Hesitantly, she holds out her hand. The fox observes her attentively. Then it barks. Sticks its nose out and licks her scar with its rough little tongue.
Anna-Karin lowers her hand.
‘Hello,’ she says.
The fox stares at her.
‘Now what?’ Anna-Karin asks it. ‘I mean, should I do something?’
The fox barks again. Anna-Karin feels a new kind of ache inside her. She longs to run through the forest, to sense moss and dry needles under her paws …
‘This is really strange,’ she says.
She has a feeling that the fox agrees. Then it licks her hand once more and slips away into the forest.
‘See you sometime, I suppose,’ Anna-Karin says wonderingly.
Ida, Julia and Hanna H are standing side by side, leaning on the balustrade around the terrace at the Holmström home. They are gazing at the party-dressed people who throng the garden. Most of the guests are on their second or third drink and the atmosphere is becoming more relaxed and the laughs more boisterous. As the dusk grows darker, the light from colored lamps in the trees softens people’s features.
Helena and Krister Malmgren have already gone home. But somehow it is as if Helena’s spirit still hovers over the crowd. Positive Engelsfors is the topic, running like mercury in and out of the conversations.
… as we’ve been saying for ages, if people would only pull themselves together …
… she must be so strong, not to let something like that break her …
… it’s up to everyone to make a choice …
… you don’t get something for nothing …
… too much feather-bedding for some …
… and ever since, I’ve never had any problems …
… mustn’t let negative people drag you down …
Ida scans the scene until she locates her mom. Every time Ida finds her, she is talking to a new person, laughing, asking interested questions. But she also glances regularly at the table with nibbles to check if any of the dishes need replenishing. She keeps an eye on Dad to make sure he doesn’t drink too much, and at the same time sees to it that none of the guests is holding an empty glass. Now and then, she slips into the bathroom to freshen her make-up. Ida’s mother is the perfect hostess.
Dad is standing in a corner, next to the large freezer box of beer bottles. While Mom flutters among the guests, Dad is holding court. He is well-liked in Engelsfors. So well-liked, in fact, that he gets away with a great deal that most others wouldn’t. Everyone knows that he’s a cheerful guy who occasionally has a glass or two too many.
Lotta stands close to him, pressed against his leg. As always when many adults are around, she sounds more childish than usual. She seems to act the role of being a child. But it works really well. Mom and Dad’s friends always go on about how Lotta is the most charming little girl they’ve ever met. One more checkmark on the Holmström family’s social scorecard.
‘Oh, Christ,’ Julia whispers. ‘Here comes that horrible wino.’
Robin’s mother, Åsa Zetterqvist, envelops them in a cloud of alcohol-laden breath and heavy perfume.
‘So, where are you hiding your fiancé, Ida?’ Åsa says.
She obviously hopes that speaking very precisely will make her seem less drunk, but the effect is the exact opposite.
‘He’s gone to get me a drink,’ Ida says.
‘That’s fine, exactly what one needs men for,’ Åsa says and tosses back a mouthful of sparkling white from her frosted glass.
Julia and Hanna H exchange a glance.
‘Are you enjoying yourself?’ Ida asks and smiles.
She despises the old cow, but she can be just as good a hostess as her mom.
‘I’m having a fine time, I really am,’ Åsa replies with lots of emphasis. ‘Everything here is just as perfect as usual. Even your lawn is a perfect green. Ours looks like an African plain.’
She chortles and Ida notices that Mom is looking their way, with panic in her eyes. Everyone knows that Åsa drinks too much, but it usually isn’t obvious this early in the evening.
‘Your parents have got a fantastic knack for inviting just the right people,’ Åsa goes on. ‘In this kind of company one feels proud of living in Engelsfors.’
She drains her glass and then leans towards Ida.
‘This could be such a fine town if only we got rid of the rotten apples,’ she says and her breath blows warm and moist against Ida’s cheek. ‘I really hope that Helena Malmgren will make everyone see sense. At last, we have somebody who speaks out. People who won’t make a contribution have no business being here.’
Ida wonders if Helena has actually said anything of the sort. But perhaps everyone is so happy to take her message on board because it can be used to suit yourself.
Åsa raises the empty glass to her lips. When she tips her head back for another shot and only one solitary drop dribbles out of it, she looks peevishly at it, as if the lack of drink were the fault of the glass.
Julia and Hanna H giggle. Fortunately Åsa doesn’t seem to notice.
Erik finally arrives and hands her a glass of cranberry juice with slices of lime. She sips it cautiously to check that he hasn’t laced it with vodka. He and Robin have already sneaked off to the bottom of the garden with a stolen bottle several times this evening.
‘Ida …’ he says.
Now she registers the expression on his face for the first time.
Something has gone wrong.
‘A small problem …’ he says. ‘Down by the kids’ playhouse. But it isn’t my fault.’
‘What are you talking about?’
Erik glances discreetly at Åsa and Ida takes the hint.
Something to do with Robin.
And where is Felicia? Ida hasn’t actually seen her for a good half-hour.
‘Wait here,’ she says to Julia and Hanna H.
‘You just toddle off, my little turtle doves,’ says the old lush. ‘Seize the day.’
Ida pulls Erik along into the garden.
‘Hey, relax,’ he says.
She sees Felicia and Robin sitting on the steps to the den.
He has put his arm around her and they’re talking intensely. Ida quickly figures out what about.
He has to be tanked up before he’ll even talk to a girl.
By now, Robin has had a lot to drink. And he and Felicia have obviously been chatting.
‘You promised not to tell,’ she snarls at Erik.
He begins to speak, but Ida holds up her hand.
‘Let me deal with this.’
Rasmus and his friends are playing war on the lawn with small plastic robots. They make sound effects that are meant to be explosions and laser beams. When Ida walks past, her little brother looks up.
‘They’re angry with you, Ida,’ he informs her.
He clearly loves telling her and she detests him with all her heart.
They have almost arrived at the den when Ida sees that Felicia has the empty vodka bottle in her hand. Felicia, who never drinks.
‘You’re such a fucking bitch,’ she croaks when she catches sight of Ida.
Robin shifts a little to get even closer to Felicia and tries to look protective, even though he’s quite cross-eyed.
‘Oh, come on,’ Ida says. ‘What have I done now?’
‘You knew,’ Felicia says and snivels. ‘You knew I was in love with Robin and you knew he was in love with me. And you didn’t say. So fuuuuck you.’
‘Erik said that he’d told you that I’d told him that I was interested in Felicia,’ Robin gabbles and looks accusingly at her.
Ida twists the silver heart until it becomes warm from her touch. It’s a catastrophe that she should have seen coming and prevented. Stupid fucking Erik.
‘You’re totally false,’ Felicia says. ‘You didn’t want me to go out with Robin, admit it!’
‘Why shouldn’t I want that?’
‘Because you don’t want anyone else to be happy, of course,’ Felicia mumbles and tries to hide a belch behind her hand. ‘Just because you’re engaged to a guy you don’t love.’
Ida feels all the blood rush to her face.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she says. ‘And neither do you, it seems.’
‘Erik has got to be the only one in town who doesn’t know that you’re crazy about Gustaf Åhlander!’
It is as if Felicia has ripped all Ida’s clothes off and left her naked for all the guests to see.
‘Where the fuck did you get that idea from?’ Ida says sharply.
‘As if it weren’t totally obvious,’ Felicia says and makes her voice sound artificial and squeaky. ‘“Oh, G! G! Please, G, look at meee! May I lick your shoes, pleease G!”’
Ida draws a deep breath. She must not show any emotion. She must not allow herself to be provoked. That would seem to admit that Felicia is right.
‘You’re drunk,’ she says.
‘Piss off, Ida! Go away! Just go away!’
‘You seem to have forgotten that you’re at my home.’
Felicia stares at her with bloodshot eyes.
‘Come on, Robin,’ she says. She tries to stand upright and reaches for the wall of the den. ‘Let’s go to your place.’ She leans against the wall and fixes her eyes on Ida again. ‘Just wait until I tell Julia about this.’
‘You’ve just misunderstood everything,’ Ida says. ‘We’ll talk about it when you’re sober. I haven’t got the slightest desire to stand here and explain myself to someone as out of it as you are now. Tomorrow you wouldn’t remember a thing I had said anyway.’
Robin and Felicia start staggering across the garden and almost bump into Erik. His eyes look piercingly into Ida’s.
‘What the fuck was all that about?’ he hisses and comes closer.
‘Don’t ask me, she’s totally off her head—’
‘I mean, what she said about Gustaf Åhlander,’ Erik interrupts. ‘Are you in love with him?’
Ida opens her mouth to reassure Erik that she loves him, only him in the whole world.
But, suddenly, all her energy is gone. She can’t think what to say and can’t think why she should try.
Is it worth trying?
The thought buzzes around in her head like a captive fly against a windowpane.
Is it worth it? Is it worth it? Is it worth it?
‘Are you?’ Erik asks again. ‘Are you in love with him?’
There is a gurgling sound from somewhere in the garden. Everyone stops what they are doing and listens.
Another gurgling sound, then a drawn-out slurping noise.
The air fills with moisture. It is raining blood.
The drops hit Ida’s hot face, fall on Rasmus and his friends, speckle the guests’ best clothes with red.
The lawn sprinkler is bouncing across the grass, spitting long, fine streams of red fluid. The hose jumps and curls along after it.
The guests scream and run for shelter. Lotta stands stock-still with her eyes tightly shut and howls like a foghorn.
‘Anders! Ida!’ Mom shouts from inside the house.
Ida runs. She flies across the lawn, past the little kids, up the steps to the terrace.
‘Excuse me!’ Ida shouts as she pushes through the crowd that is trying to get into the house. ‘Excuse me!’
Mom stands bent over the kitchen sink with her hands clutching the spurting, spitting tap. Strong jets of fluid are spouting between her fingers and shooting into space as large sheets of liquid. In the overhead light Ida sees that the color isn’t like blood, but a dirty, brownish red.
‘What are we going to do?’ a woman screams and Mom starts sobbing.
‘Fuck! The toilet’s flooded!’ Dad shouts from somewhere inside the house.
A huge puddle is forming under the dishwasher. From inside the walls, the pipework makes mysterious coughing noises.
Ida takes in the chaotic scene.
Mom’s panic-stricken face. Her fouled dress. The rusty-looking water that is spattered and dribbling down her perfect white walls, ceiling, kitchen cabinets. Dad’s helpless calls from the bathroom.
Ida turns around and sees Åsa. She stands a bit away from everyone else and has pressed herself up against a wall. A big, happy grin lights up her whole face.
And, at that very moment, Ida understands exactly how she feels.