They can make out Jonte’s house behind the bare trees. There is a faint light showing in some of the windows on the ground floor. Linnéa tries to see if anyone is moving in there. She has called several times, but Jonte hasn’t answered.
How many nights has she come here? And how many times has she left in the morning, hating herself? In this house, she has made some of the biggest mistakes in her life.
Linnéa stays in the shadows, close to the lawn. She listens hard, but the only sounds are Anna-Karin’s footsteps coming closer.
Linnéa shuts her eyes, grateful that her magic is there for her again. And Vanessa was right. It is easier to use now. Easier to call up the power, easier to control it.
At first, she is only aware of Anna-Karin’s thoughts. Her memories of seeing this house for the first time, how the garden was covered in snow, the moment Jari kissed her in front of everyone and then, later on, when Linnéa and Vanessa pushed her into a corner. Next, Anna-Karin’s mind touches on the memory of herself in Jari’s bed and the wave of shame is so overwhelming that Linnéa has to make a real effort to refocus. But she can do it. And almost picks something up from inside the house.
‘Try not to think of anything,’ she whispers to Anna-Karin, who naturally starts thinking hard about how she mustn’t think.
Linnéa concentrates. She blocks Anna-Karin and directs all her power towards the house. She manages to capture the thoughts. They are straying, incoherent, stumbling over each other, pervaded by terror.
… how can I what can I do how did it happen what if someone thinks it was me who should I who can I call I’ll call granny I must get out of here should I leave what can I…
She can’t sense who it is or if there are any others in the house.
‘Someone’s in there,’ she whispers to Anna-Karin. ‘And something has happened to that person. Are you ready to use your magic if it’s needed?’
Anna-Karin nods.
Linnéa starts walking across the garden. The wet, muddy lawn is sloshy under her boots.
When they reach the small outside set of steps, Linnéa sees that the door is ajar. Her fingers grasp the chilly metal handle and she pulls the door wide open.
She steals quietly into the hall with Anna-Karin close behind. Now the thoughts come to her as a hysterical babble, a rushing stream of words.
… I promise to be better good I promise I’ll never take hard stuff again never lie again never drink again if only it stops now I promise I promise I promise that if this only stops I will start over again from the beginning and then I will never do anything bad again I will do just everything you want dear God if only you do something so I get through this make it so it hasn’t happened …
It is impossible to work out where in the house the thoughts are coming from. Linnéa shuts her power down. The silence seems impenetrable.
They go into the kitchen. The counter is cluttered with dirty dishes. A plate with scraps of food on it is still on the pine table. The pitted tabletop is covered in burn marks and small dents.
Linnéa eyes the closed door to the cleaning cupboard, then the worn curtains that reach the floor. So many places where someone might hide and jump out from any second now.
They move silently towards the living room and Linnéa peeps through the open door.
The room looks almost exactly the same as always. Only the gigantic TV screen is new. When Linnéa sees the orange-brown fluffy rug, one of the evenings she spent here comes back to her. She and Elias had shared a bottle of stolen booze and that rug had felt like the world’s softest carpet. They were rolling around on it, laughing like maniacs, trying to make out and instead laughing even harder. Olivia was sitting on the sofa, watching them while she smoked a cigarette right down to the filter. When she’d finished smoking, she’d turned to Lucky, who sat next to her, and groped him hard, as if it were some kind of competition she had to win. Elias and Linnéa laughed even more.
A thump from somewhere upstairs makes Linnéa and Anna-Karin stiffen.
Linnéa senses Anna-Karin’s fear and it makes her more courageous, just because she has to be. She pulls Anna-Karin along to the bottom of the staircase and stands still for a moment, scanning the total blackness above the top tread, listening.
The thoughts are coming from up there. Someone is there in the dark.
Linnéa places one foot on the bottom step. It creaks under her weight.
… they have come back to get me they are back to get me I must hide must get away from here must hide …
The fear inhabiting this mind washes through Linnéa and she feels suddenly certain that this person isn’t dangerous. But she can’t be as certain that nobody else is here. Someone who knows her powers and is able to set up a defense.
Linnéa glances quickly at Anna-Karin and starts walking upstairs.
The corridor is dark. Only a narrow strip of light seeps out from Jonte’s room. Linnéa reaches it, pushes at the door with one hand, allows it to open slowly.
Remains of magic hover in the room. It is like a lingering smell in the air, like a still-echoing sound.
Jonte’s bedside light is on. His phone lies on his bedside table, next to an open book. The bed is one big mess of pillows, twisted sheets and duvets. And, underneath, something else.
Linnéa approaches slowly. A bare arm shows among the sheets.
She tries to read more thoughts. Fragments of a dream. But he is not asleep. She knows that already. It is only a body that is lying there. Still, she must see this with her own eyes.
Linnéa cautiously pulls the duvet back, revealing Jonte’s head and naked torso. His eyes are half open, as if he has just woken up. One hand is held in front of his chest, tightly clenched.
Linnéa’s hand trembles as she reaches out and puts her fingers against the side of his neck. No pulse. But his skin is still warm. Gently she closes Jonte’s eyelids. She has never before understood why this is done, but now she does.
She looks at him. It has been such a long time since she’s seen him bareheaded. Since then, he has thinned on top. She used to say to him that if he felt so badly about going bald, he should simply shave it off. Surely better than walking around with a cap on day and night, year in, year out.
‘Linnéa!’ Anna-Karin whispers.
Linnéa turns around. Anna-Karin is standing just inside the door. She looks very scared and is pointing towards the corridor.
Linnéa joins her, listening into the darkness until she hears it. A muffled sob, from the room opposite.
She walks across, opens the door. The room is pitch dark. She can almost hear someone holding his or her breath. Linnéa fumbles along the wall until she finds the switch.
Lucky is sitting on an old mattress, curled up as if trying to make himself as small as possible.
… don’t kill me don’t kill me don’t kill me don’t kill me …
Linnéa has to shut his thoughts out. Lucky is close to losing his mind and it feels as though he could drag her into his insane chaos.
‘Lucky?’ she says.
He doesn’t respond.
‘Lukas? It’s Linnéa,’ she says and gingerly moves closer to him.
He whimpers and lifts his arms to clasp his head, as if protecting himself against a blow.
‘Relax, buddy,’ she says. ‘Don’t be afraid, Lucky. No worries. It’s only me.’
She reaches her hand out to touch him, but changes her mind. He is far too frightened. She has no idea how he might react.
Linnéa looks at Anna-Karin, who is standing nearby, her hands pressed against her mouth.
‘Can you make him talk?’
Anna-Karin lowers her hands. Nods.
Anna-Karin crouches down in front of Lucky and tries to pull herself together. Jonte’s dead body has upset her, but it is almost worse to see someone as shredded inside as Lucky.
He is so much more scared than I am, she tells herself.
‘Lucky, it’s me. Anna-Karin. Do you remember me?’
Lucky cowers even more.
Except for the training exercise with the other Chosen Ones, Anna-Karin hasn’t used her magic for a long time and feels unsettled about letting her power free. It is so easy to abuse. And so far, it has never led to anything good.
But I’m not the same person any more, she thinks.
She takes a deep breath. Frees her magic, just a few drops that flow easily out into her body, permeate all of her.
‘Lucky, look at me.’
She doesn’t command. Only coaxes him, as gently as she can.
Slowly, Lucky lifts his head and meets her gaze.
‘There’s no one here who can hurt you, Lucky. You mustn’t be frightened any more.’
He nods gratefully, straightens up a little. Now she can see the printed logo on his T-shirt. ‘PRIDE OF ENGELSFORS’.
‘Please, can you tell us what happened?’
Lucky opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again.
‘I was. In … in the cellar,’ he says. ‘I was in the cellar. And I heard some people walking on the stairs.’
‘Do you know who they were?’
‘No. I went upstairs … I heard Jonte scream somewhere up there. His voice sounded angry at first. Like he was having a fight with someone. He isn’t angry often, but when he loses it he gets so fucking furious … And then I heard other voices. I began to, like, worry it was the cops. But then he started to beg for forgiveness. Like, really beg. He kept saying forgive me, over and over again. And then I heard …’
Lucky stops. His consciousness is slipping out of Anna-Karin’s grip, he wants to sink back into forgetfulness, hide in a place where he doesn’t have to think about what has happened. Cautiously, she frees up a little more of her power.
‘You’re all right now,’ she says. ‘It’s all over now. Tell me what you heard.’
‘A kind of sizzling sound. Like when you put a piece of meat in a hot frying pan,’ Lucky whispers. ‘And the ceiling lights flashed. Jonte screamed again. But now he was screaming because he was in pain. He screamed louder and louder, stop-stop-stop … and I … first I ran to help him but then I didn’t dare to. I … hid. Jonte died. And I didn’t do a thing. Nothing.’
‘There was nothing you could do,’ Anna-Karin says and pats his shoulder. ‘These voices, can you tell me anything more about them? How many people were speaking? Did you recognize any of them?’
‘I don’t know,’ Lucky says. ‘No.’
‘Tell him to dial 911,’ Linnéa says.
‘No!’ Lucky says.
‘Do you have your phone with you?’ Anna-Karin asks mildly and he nods. ‘As soon as we’re gone, you’ll phone the police. Promise?’
‘But the plants … Jonte would never … I mean, I can’t call the pigs in …’
‘You will phone the police.’ Anna-Karin increases her power output a little more as she speaks. ‘And another thing – you’ll forget that we were ever here. Do you understand?’
‘Sure. I will,’ Lucky says and pulls his phone from his pocket.
‘I can’t stay here,’ Linnéa says suddenly and runs out of the room.
Anna-Karin checks Lucky one last time to make sure he is holding his phone to his ear. Then she runs after Linnéa.
Outside, she finds Linnéa bending over in a shrubbery. She is vomiting.
‘Are you going to be okay?’ Anna-Karin asks.
Linnéa spits, straightens up. Wipes her mouth on her sleeve.
‘We have to warn Vanessa,’ she says.