Anna-Karin is so nervous she nearly throws up. The movements of the car don’t help. It runs across a pothole and her stomach seems to bounce up against her palate.
Viktor turns into the drive to the manor house. But instead of going on, he stops the car.
‘Would you like a breath of fresh air?’ he asks. ‘You look as if it would do you good.’
Anna-Karin climbs out and takes deep breaths of the cool air. She looks out over the canal and tries to imagine that this is a quite ordinary day, tries to forget why they are here.
‘It’s nice here,’ Viktor says.
She looks at him. He stands with his hands plunged into his coat pockets.
‘It will all be over in a few hours,’ he says and looks sympathetically at her.
Anna-Karin is far from convinced that she will manage to survive the first minute.
‘I want you to know, I understand why you did it,’ Viktor says. ‘I’m sure no one could honestly swear that they wouldn’t have done the same in your situation.’
All her life, Anna-Karin has kept in the background and observed other people. She is usually pretty good at working out who they really are. But she cannot read Viktor. He seems to mean what he says, but why should he? His mission here is to catch her out at breaking the law.
‘When I arrived in town, I immediately felt my powers grow stronger,’ he says. ‘Engelsfors is like a big battery for all natural witches. And for you, who also has a special bond to the power source in this place … it must be intoxicating. Magic is hard to handle if you’re not used to it. I know only too well how badly things can turn out when you suddenly have too much of it, too soon …’
He falls silent, stares blankly ahead.
‘What did you do?’ she asks, reluctantly curious.
‘Not me. My twin sister.’
Anna-Karin is surprised. Tries to imagine a female version of Viktor.
‘Her magic talents developed far too fast. She couldn’t stop using them. It made her … sick.’
‘What happened to her?’
Viktor smiles a little bitterly.
‘Let’s just say that she was never the same again.’
He pulls his left hand from his pocket and glances at his watch.
‘I’m sorry, but we must move on.’
Minoo opens her locker and fills her backpack with textbooks. She tries to avoid thinking about Anna-Karin, who just now is being driven to the manor house by Viktor. She can’t help her in any way. It is the worst thing about all this.
She hears familiar laughter. Vanessa and Evelina are strolling along the hallway together.
Minoo wonders about Vanessa. Does she know how Linnéa feels?
I must say something to Linnéa, Minoo thinks as she locks up. I must. Soon. She should know that I know.
She leaves school and walks to Storvall Square As she comes closer to the yellow house where the Engelsfors Herald has its editorial office, she sees that the large window next to the entrance has been bashed. The cracked glass is kept in place with strips of duct tape. It must have been done last night.
Minoo has no doubt about who is behind this. The same people who phone them at home in the evenings. No one speaks, but the silence at the other end of the line is more frightening than words. The first call was in the autumn, the same day that the paper published its first investigative report on Positive Engelsfors. The frequency of the calls has kept pace with PE’s rate of growth. Now it has organized a boycott of the paper and subscriptions have fallen off sharply. Not that Dad caves in to pressure. On the contrary. His editorials are evidence of a personal crusade.
This thing with the window is a straightforward escalation of the warfare. And Minoo dreads the next turn of the screw.
She walks into the editorial office. Dad is in the kitchen, pouring himself a large mugful of coffee as black as oil.
‘Hello there,’ he says absently and starts moving towards his office.
Minoo follows him. Watches the small sweat stains on the back of his shirt. His red neck. He is angry again. He is always angry these days.
‘What happened to the window?’ she says while Dad settles behind his desk.
‘I reported it to the police this morning,’ he replies and drinks a large mouthful of coffee. ‘Probably won’t get us anywhere. But it’s on record if something else happens.’
‘You should install cameras, CCTV or something,’ she says.
Dad doesn’t reply. He is focused on his computer again, starts reading something on the screen.
‘Anna-Karin can come,’ she says after a short while and he looks up, clearly lost.
So he has forgotten all about it.
‘For dinner,’ she adds.
It isn’t easy to live with someone who is never with you, not even when you are in the same room. She understands better now why Mom got into the habit of slamming cupboard doors. You have to make yourself heard, one way or the other.
‘Good, good,’ Dad says and his eyes slip back to his computer.
Minoo feels like screaming at the top of her voice that she, too, is doing stuff. She still hangs on to top rankings in all her school subjects, though it’s getting harder and harder. Meanwhile, she’s trying to figure out if the demons are sponsoring Positive Engelsfors, as well as trying to prepare for a magic trial and the end of the world. But here she is, all the same, ready to play her part in her father’s life, though you might think it should be the other way around.
Footsteps in the outer office. The steps are coming their way and Minoo turns around.
Helena Malmgren stops in the doorway. Close behind, Krister Malmgren towers over her. He is wearing a gray suit, but would look just as comfortable in workman’s overalls. It isn’t hard to see why people in this old industrial town love him. They both eye Minoo – who has to try hard not to show how much she hates them. And how much she fears them.
‘May we come in?’ Helena says.
Her tone of voice is pleasant, but she steps inside Dad’s office without waiting for a reply.
Dad leans back in his chair.
‘Well, this is a surprise,’ he says.
Despite Matilda’s warnings, the Chosen Ones have been keeping an eye on Helena and Krister off and on during the autumn and winter, but have found no evidence that the Malmgren couple use magic.
Not that it proves anything, Minoo thinks. If they are in league with demons, they will have been warned about us. Told to be circumspect if they use magic.
‘We decided we had better come and see you,’ Krister says. ‘You and I have always gotten along, Erik. You’re a hard-hitting journalist, but fair. It’s good for us politicians to have our decisions scrutinized.’
Dad says nothing.
‘But I can’t help wondering if you have a hidden agenda when it comes to my wife,’ Krister goes on.
Dad looks straight at Helena.
‘I have nothing against you personally,’ he says. ‘But I have strong reservations about the grip Positive Engelsfors has established on the whole town. And I’m very skeptical about the actual means used. Just recently, I was told that this new, positive spirit is set to spread through even the healthcare services. Perhaps that’s something you’d like to comment on, now that you’re here?’
‘No problem,’ Krister says. ‘Positive attitudes have been shown to lead to excellent outcomes.’
‘And the evidence is what, exactly?’ Dad asks.
‘Don’t discuss this with him, Krister,’ Helena says. ‘It doesn’t matter what you say, he’ll turn it into something negative. Newspaper people are only interested in misery, anywhere in the world. That’s how it is, wouldn’t you agree, Erik? You want to expose faults in everything. But there is a new spirit all around in Engelsfors. We’ve had enough of this guzzling of pessimistic titbits. And, do you know? I believe that deep inside you are fed up with it, too. Wouldn’t it be a great change for the better to write up good news instead?’
She smiles sweetly at Dad.
‘For instance, rethink when it comes to our Spring Revel,’ Krister says. ‘We hope that you won’t blacken it. Regardless of your views on PE, trade has in fact increased in town …’
‘Thank you for reminding me,’ Dad says frostily. ‘I’ll keep all this in mind.’
‘Good,’ Helena says. ‘You know, I’ve got a strong feeling that more people would buy the paper if they approved of what they read.’
They leave and Minoo looks at her father. At his bloodshot eyes and sweating face. And she knows that Helena and Krister didn’t come here just to ask Dad to write positively about the Spring Revel.
They came here to feast on his defeat, on his being about to lose control of the newspaper that has been his.
And Minoo hates them still more.
Vanessa goes up on tiptoe in front of the book display to reach as far as she can with the duster. She could have brought the small ladder from behind the register, but it’s too much of a hassle.
One of the busts of Native Americans falls over when she dusts the top of the cupboard. She swears. If something breaks, Mona will take the price of it out of Vanessa’s paycheck.
She carries on, dusting her way through the Crystal Cave to the accompaniment of the recorded sounds of harps and wind-chimes. When she checks the time on the dolphin clock, she thinks of Anna-Karin, who will have arrived at the manor house.
Vanessa doesn’t want to think about all that. When they had lunch together, she had realized that Anna-Karin was already close to despair. Not a good sign.
Vanessa hadn’t been all that nervous before her own interrogation. She knows that she is a good liar. But before the session was over, she had nearly broken down all the same. Despite not even being accused of anything.
The dark red curtain is drawn. Next to it hangs a small sign announcing that a fortune-telling consultation is under way. Mona’s client is the head of Vanessa’s middle school, a Mr. Svensson. Everyone called him Svensson and Vanessa still doesn’t know his first name. An elderly nobody, with zero personality. As gray as the mist surrounding the City Mall.
Svensson definitely doesn’t come across as the type who’d ask some spooky lady to foretell his future. But if there is one thing Vanessa has learned since she started in the Crystal Cave, it is that no such ‘type’ exists. Mona has many unexpected clients.
The telephone rings. Vanessa puts the duster on a table and hurries to the counter.
‘The Crystal Cave,’ she answers.
‘Is that Vanessa?’
A young man’s voice. It sounds a little familiar. The accent isn’t quite right for Engelsfors.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m Isak. From Sala.’
Isak from Sala. The guy at the New Year’s party. She had slept with him and then, afterwards, he admitted that he was only fifteen.
‘Why are you calling me here?’
‘I couldn’t find your number anywhere,’ Isak says. He sounds nervous. ‘But then I remembered you speaking about this New Age-style shop you’re working in …’
Vanessa leans across the counter, supports herself on her elbows. Wonders when she had gotten around to telling him about the Crystal Cave. It wasn’t like they talked a lot that night.
‘… but I wanted to check if you’ve got my emails and … you know,’ Isak rounds off.
The doorbell tinkles and out of the corner of her eye, Vanessa sees a woman come into the shop.
‘Yes, I’ve got your emails,’ Vanessa says. ‘I replied to the first one, didn’t I?’
‘Yes, you did.’
‘Then you must know already that I’m not interested right now.’
‘But I thought maybe you’d change your mind when you had read the other messages. But if you haven’t gotten them …’
Vanessa looks into the shop. The woman has disappeared behind the shelves.
‘I’m sure you’re a great guy,’ Vanessa says, speaking as quietly as she can without whispering. ‘I really did have a great time with you. But, as I wrote to you, I don’t want to start a relationship now. Not with you and not with anyone else.’
‘But how can you say that when you don’t know me?’
Vanessa groans and glances at the customer, who’s now standing with her back to the register, examining the scented candles.
She suddenly turns around.
Sirpa. Wille’s mother.
‘Right, so now you know that we’re not interested,’ Vanessa says into the receiver. ‘Thank you for calling. Goodbye.’
‘Vanessa? Are you working here?’
Vanessa nods and mumbles something about persistent salesmen.
‘How nice to see you!’ Sirpa says.
‘And you,’ Vanessa says, wondering if it’s all right to hug Sirpa, or if it would seem odd.
She would like to hug her. She has missed her. Sirpa, who allowed her to stay in her home for months. Sometimes, Vanessa wished Sirpa were her mother.
‘Well, now …’ Sirpa looks around the shop. ‘I haven’t been in here before, you know …’
The words peter out. It strikes Vanessa for the first time now that Sirpa looks sad.
Wille, Vanessa thinks. Please, don’t let anything have happened to Wille.
It is a surprisingly strong feeling.
‘How are you?’ she asks.
‘I’m fine!’ Sirpa replies, with a feeble attempt at cheerfulness. ‘Mustn’t grumble!’
Tears well up in her eyes and she wipes them away with her hand, still in a woollen glove.
‘Has something happened?’
‘No, not at all,’ Sirpa says and forces herself to laugh a little. ‘If anything, that’s the problem. Nothing has happened. I’m still in pain.’
At least, this hasn’t to do with Wille.
Relief floods into Vanessa’s mind, but is instantly changed to guilt when she meets Sirpa’s eyes.
‘Is it your neck?’
‘Yes, you might remember it got worse last summer. When I joined PE, I really believed it could help me. Or, I should say, it would teach me something about how to help myself. To be my true self.’
‘And your true self doesn’t have a painful neck. Right?’
‘No, exactly,’ Sirpa says. Somehow it is hugely sad that she hasn’t even understood the irony in what Vanessa said. ‘Helena says that I don’t really suffer pain. The thing is, I burden myself with negative thoughts and that makes me feel as if I hurt. If only I could change my way of thinking … but maybe I’m a hopeless case. Still, that’s just the way one mustn’t think. You see, I can’t stop myself from getting myself down, and then I criticize myself for that as well.’
Sirpa forces another small burst of laughter and rolls her eyes.
Vanessa’s heart goes out to her.
‘So, the fact that you’ve been sitting at a supermarket checkout for something like thirty years has nothing to do with your neck hurting? Are you supposed to be kind of imagining it?’
‘But Vanessa …’ Sirpa laughs, then looks over her shoulder as if afraid that someone is listening to them. ‘That’s not what she means.’
‘What does she mean?’
‘Well, I would say that she means we should be able to control our own lives … that we’ve the power to shape them …’
‘But we can’t control everything, surely?’ Vanessa says. ‘Don’t you agree?’
Sirpa looks anxious.
‘Now, we mustn’t talk about this any more,’ she says. ‘I came here to find some books that might help me. I’ve left the group for people with so-called physical problems. Only for a while, of course. They told me I wasn’t advancing sufficiently. And it’s true, I was dragging the others down. So instead I decided to carry on with the healing work on my own. Hopefully, I’ll impress them, in time. I will think again and think the right way!’
Vanessa doesn’t know what she wants most, to comfort Sirpa or to yell at her to wake up. One thing she knows for sure. She doesn’t want to sell that sort of book to Sirpa.
‘I don’t think we have any books that would suit you.’
‘Perhaps your boss has some ideas?’
‘She is busy right now,’ Vanessa says and points at the sign saying ‘FUTURE FORETOLD NOW’.
‘Oh, I see,’ Sirpa says. She seems to hesitate. ‘Nice to see you, Vanessa.’
‘It’s good to see you, too.’
She has so many questions that she would like to ask Sirpa. About Positive Engelsfors. About Helena. And about Wille.
‘Take care,’ she says instead. Sirpa nods and leaves.
Vanessa stares at the shop door. Fury is hissing and bubbling inside her. How can Sirpa allow Helena to brainwash her?
Vanessa almost hopes that magic directs the behavior of the PE membership. It would be easier to understand. Easier to accept.
She has tried to ask Mona if Helena and Krister belong to her group of ‘special clients’ but Mona won’t tell. She hasn’t even shown Vanessa where her secret stashes are kept. And it isn’t easy to be on the trail of a target with second sight. Mona has even managed to distract Anna-Karin’s fox.
A rattling sound behind Vanessa tells her that the curtain is being pulled back. Svensson emerges with Mona immediately behind. He smiles happily and shakes her hand before holding out a wad of twenty-dollar bills.
‘I am very grateful,’ he says. ‘I feel much better now.’
Mona peers at him over the rim of her glasses and offers him her most radiant smile. There are traces of lipstick on her teeth.
‘Take care out there,’ she says.
When Svensson has left, Mona stuffs the notes into a pocket of her snow-washed carpenter’s pants, then takes her glasses off and puts them into another pocket.
‘He’s going to die pretty soon,’ she says and lights a cigarette.
‘Do you mean it the way you meant it when you said I would die?’ Vanessa asks indifferently.
‘No, I mean it literally,’ Mona says and retrieves the red marble ashtray from under the counter. ‘Poor guy.’
This takes another moment to sink in.
‘But he … he looked so happy. What did you tell him?’
Mona snorts.
‘Nothing. What do you take me for?’
‘But you’ve got to warn him!’
Mona shakes her head and sits down on the tall stool behind the counter.
Vanessa looks out through the window, but Svensson is not in sight.
‘If I run, maybe I can catch up with him,’ she says.
‘Catch up to tell him what? “Excuse me, but Mona forget to say you’re dying”?’
‘But he must be allowed to know!’
‘I can see when clients are fairly close to death, but not the cause,’ Mona says and meets Vanessa’s eyes seriously. ‘Death is hovering above him, but can take the shape of a malignant tumor or an axe murderer or whatever. I don’t know when. Mostly within the first six months. It seems the max level for how long death needs when it’s got somebody in the crosshairs.’
The smoke from her cigarette rises like a pillar to the ceiling.
‘Once, when I was young and silly, I made the mistake of telling a client that he was going to die soon. What good did it do him? The anguish ruined what was left of his life. And then he slipped in the shower and died anyway.’
‘But the future isn’t predetermined!’ Vanessa exclaims. ‘It can be changed.’
‘Oh yes, if you know what to change,’ Mona snaps. ‘Believe me, sweetheart, I don’t like all this either.’
‘What do you tell them?’
‘Three things. First, enjoy your life. Second, look after yourself and watch out in traffic. Then I can at least hope they will have that health check, or spot that car with enough seconds to spare.’
She stubs out her cigarette.
‘And what’s the third thing?’ Vanessa asks.
‘That they’re coming back after half a year. And I promise the session will be free.’
The recorded wind-chimes tinkle gently.
‘Do they? Come back?’
Mona’s silence is a sufficient answer.
‘They could’ve moved away, of course,’ Vanessa says. ‘Or forgotten.’
‘Let’s say that,’ Mona says and lights another cigarette. ‘Have you finished the dusting? I have to close earlier today.’
‘Suits me.’
Mona vanishes behind the curtain again and Vanessa walks to the door and flips the sign from ‘OPEN’ to ‘CLOSED’.
She thinks about her own future and the future of the Chosen Ones and of the whole world.
How much is already written.
And, perhaps, how little that can be changed.