Wraithsong (35 page)

Anthony stands up abruptly
and pulls me to a standing position. “Someone’s coming. I have to
go. Will you be all right?”

“
Yes,” I say, feeling
anything but.

“
I’ll see you tomorrow
morning, I hope,” he says. Then he kisses me deeply before diving
back into the ocean.

“
Until
tomorrow,” I say out loud.
I love
you.

Chapter 37

Layla is the one who comes
for me. My tracker had gone off, she tells me when she sees me. In
a surprisingly unsympathetic voice, she tells me she saw Olaf’s
corpse lying by the altar in the grove. She’s not distraught by his
death at all, which I think is rather unusual. How callous is this
Darkálfar? The absolute last thing I want to do right now is return
to the site of the murder. I don’t want to see Olaf’s torn up body
and I definitely don’t want to be reminded of the gruesome assault.
I can still hear Olaf’s desperate screams in my head, and now that
I know that Anthony is the beast, his death is all the more
disturbing.

Back in the grove, I avoid
looking directly at Olaf’s lifeless body. Layla heads straight
toward him and I stay a step or two behind her. I can’t prevent
myself from seeing him from the corner of my eye. The hair on the
back of my neck stands up, knowing his screams will stay with me
for the rest of my life.

“
The beast I told you about
did this.” I glance quickly at him and then squeeze my eyes
shut.

“
Well, I think we both know
at this point who the beast really is,” Layla says, shooting me a
glance.

“
Who?” I sound so stunned
that I would even have believed my own cover up if I didn’t know
the truth. I’m not going to give Anthony away so easily.

“
Come on, Sonia. Don’t
pretend you don’t know who the beast is,” Layla says.

“
Is it a morphed
Darkálfar?” I ask innocently. I gasp and my hand hits my
mouth.

“
Really? You don’t know who
it is?” She gets a puzzled look on her face.

“
How
would
I
know? All I know is that I’m terrified the beast is going to
kill us all unless we do something about it. It chased me all the
way down to the shore, and when it was about to charge, I think it
heard you and then dove past me into the water. That’s when you
came. Thank you for saving my life.”

Layla appears moved by my
gratitude, and that reminds me about what Anthony said about making
a friend.

“
Well, Olaf had it coming.
He was getting on Maureen’s nerves, so if the beast hadn’t gotten
to him first, she would have done something to get rid of
him.”

“
Really? Because when Olaf
broke into my room the other night, he said he had been loyal for
centuries, and that Maureen wouldn’t believe a word I said about
him intruding on my space.”

“
Stupid Olaf. He was a
fool—a fool who thought he could have everything and everyone,”
Layla says.

“
He even said he had bedded
you.” I know that comment will send Layla spinning, and I hope it
will create common ground between us, and eventually a wedge
between her and Maureen.

“
He tried a few times, that
jerk. I’m actually glad he’s dead. Maureen gave him so many gifts
and all he wanted was more, more and more. He was a pathetic excuse
for a Huldu, and a greedy one at that!” Smiling, she kicks him and
I think I’m going to vomit.

I see another opportunity
for bonding with Layla and manage to breathe through my nausea.
“Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about all you told me, but now
that I’ve actually seen this horrible monster kill one of—us, I’ll
believe anything you say from now on.” Did that sound too amiable?
I don’t think so. “Was the monster a Darkálfar?”

Layla smiles and nods.
“Indeed it was a Darkálfar. Finally coming to your senses
then?”

“
I guess.” I want to know
more about Layla, and sense that she might be open to it. “So how
did you get to be with Maureen anyway?”

Layla shoots me a
not-so-friendly sideway glance.

When she doesn’t respond, I
say, “You’re a Lightálfar, right?”

“
I’m actually half
Lightálfar, half Darkálfar,” Layla says.

I can believe that. “Wow,
what a mix! It’s like half evil, half good.”

“
Well, that’s the way most
beings are anyway, aren’t they?” Layla looks up into the sky and
breathes deeply, her red short hair moving with the wind. “Let’s
find the horses. Don’t worry about Olaf. He’ll be fine.”

“
What? We can’t just leave
him here in the open,” I say. “We should bury him or bring him back
to the castle at least.”

“
Why would we waste our
time giving that creep a burial,” Layla says. “He’ll probably come
back from the dead anyway.” Layla rolls her eyes, and I get the
distinct feeling that there’s something I don’t know.

“
It’s the right thing to
do.” I think even ‘that creep’s’ remains deserve some type of
burial.

“
If you want, I’ll give you
time tomorrow so you can have your ceremony. Let’s go,” Layla
says.

“
That’s okay. It’s probably
best if you send someone else.” I sincerely hope she’ll do
it.

We locate both horses about
a quarter of a mile away from the altar, drinking from a rustling
brook Olaf and I passed on our way to the grove. We mount them and
ride back to the castle. When we arrive, I go straight to my room
and change out of my wet clothes. Meatloaf and potatoes wait on my
desk. As I devour the meal, I realize Layla never really answered
my question about how she came to be with Maureen, but I’m still
set on finding out.

* * *

“
After dinner,” Layla said
before we separated, “meet me in the classroom for a lesson on the
physical advantage of the Huldra.” I wonder what that means, but
think it might be an interesting lecture.

I flip the Book of Huldras
to page 778 as I wait for Layla to arrive.

All Huldras have the
following gift: the gift of climate adaptation. This includes, but
is not limited to: resilience in extremely cold weather, resilience
and immunity to extreme heat, the ability to survive under water
without coming up for air for many days (though no one knows
exactly how long), the ability to…

I hear footsteps and close
the book and quickly lunge into my seat as if I’ve been sitting
there the entire time. Layla enters the classroom carrying
something that looks like a make-up bag and she also has a black
garment bag draped over her shoulder.

“
Let’s go to the second
floor today. I’m going to teach you how to dress and put on make-up
properly.”

“
Why?” I
thought I had all that stuff down, and what’s the point of this
lecture? It sounds like a complete waste of time. No,
it
is
a
complete waste of time.

“
Because
Maureen told me that you
desperately
needed it.” Layla turns
on her heels and treads out the door. I follow after her, not happy
with all these lessons that don’t seem to bring me any closer to
saving my mom.

The large living room looks
like a Spanish dreamland. An over-sized painting of a flamenco
dancer is the centerpiece of this chamber. The woman in the
painting is curvy and wears a brilliant red dress, holding a pair
of black castanets above her head. Red and white striped silk
drapes cascade down the tall windows. I walk over to a window,
catching a glimpse of the view, thinking that Wraithsong Island
looks every bit like scenes from a Norwegian documentary I saw a
few years back. The island is dramatic—even majestic. I don’t
notice many flat surfaces, and every hill, every mountain, every
corner is covered in some type of greenery.

Layla places the garment
bag on the sofa and unzips it. “Ready to slip into the new
you?”

“
Is this supposed to be a
makeover?” I say, not thrilled at all.

“
I guess you can say that,
but it’s so much more than an average makeover.” Layla pulls a gold
sequined dress out from the garment bag. “Let me help you squeeze
into this.”

“
This is actually part of a
Huldra’s formal training?” I ask after Layla has helped me squeeze
into a dress of minimal proportions. I feel like a walking sausage,
ready to explode at my next move.

“
Of course. Powerful men
want their women looking and acting a certain way. You have to
attract the hornets with honey. They won’t be coming after you if
you look and smell like mac and cheese. Gold, sweet and
glistening—that’s where it’s at.” She proceeds to do my hair and
after that, my make-up. When she’s finished with me, she places me
in the center of the room.

“
Now let me have a look at
you.” Layla steps back.

“
How am I supposed to move
in this gown? I can barely even breathe!” I say, sucking it all
in.

“
Think of it as a tutu. You
can’t really breathe in a tutu, can you?” Layla says.

I grimace. I told Layla in
one of my lessons that I was a dancer, but now I’m regretting it
since she’s using this information to strengthen her argument.
“Well, at least I can move my legs in a tutu.”

“
Class,
Sonia, that’s what’s important. That’s what
you
need.” She studies
me carefully.

I turn and look in the
mirror. “I look like I’m…thirty—no forty years old in this dress
and with this hair-do.” The gold dress has one strap, which runs
over my left shoulder. The shoes are four-inch gold and rhinestone
stilettos, and my hair is pulled up into a tight French twist. “My
make-up is way too heavy. I look like a…bimbo!”

“
No you don’t. It’s just
right,” Layla rebuffs.

“
Why do I
have to learn about
this
to save my mom?” Layla is wasting my
time.

“
Because we may have to
influence a few powerful men along the way to get your mother
back,” Layla says.

I’m definitely going to
find my mom tonight, even if it means I need to stay up all night
to make it happen. I don’t want to talk to Layla about that, so I
pursue the question that still remains unanswered. “So how did you
get to be with Maureen exactly?”

Layla scowls at me. “It’s
really none of your concern, but I’ll tell you because if I don’t,
you’ll never stop asking me about it.”

I can’t tell if she’s
frustrated with me or if she’s trying to be funny. I laugh
nervously.

“
I’m actually Maureen’s
ex-husband’s daughter,” Layla says.

“
So you’re Anthony’s
half-sister?” I assume.

Layla zips the make-up bag
closed. “No. Maureen has had…several husbands. Anthony and I don’t
share the same father or the same mother.”

“
So that makes you related
by marriage, but not by blood…?” I ask.

“
I would never consider
myself related to that imbecile,” Layla says uneasily.

I don’t appreciate her
talking about Anthony like that, but I keep my mouth closed in
hopes that I can win her over.

“
I want nothing to do with
Anthony or my evil Darkálfar father.”

“
And your mom?”

“
She was a Lightálfar and
died in a battle against the Darkálfars. That’s why I hate them and
what they did, not only to me, but also to Maureen and her family.
Maureen hates Anthony because he reminds her too much of her
ex-husband—Anthony’s father—since they look very
similar.”

“
But that’s not Anthony’s
fault.” I can’t help myself from defending him.

“
No, it isn’t, but it’s not
just his looks. When Maureen was young, her father used to beat
her. She swore to herself to never again surround herself with
violent people, so when Anthony showed too many aggressive
tendencies, Maureen, being the peaceful Huldra she is, couldn’t
handle it.”

Maureen—peaceful? Yeah,
right. “When was Maureen born?” I ask.

“
Let’s just say that she
has lived long enough to outlive eight husbands, all of them
Huldus, except for Anthony’s father, and my father, both
Darkálfars.”

“
Eight?” She must not have
been nearly as selective as my mom about who she married. Suddenly
I remember my mom saying that five Huldus had vanished, and I
wonder if they were Maureen’s husbands. Come to think of it, my mom
had also mentioned that the other Huldus died in wars. At the time,
I assumed that the Huldus had died in civil wars and world wars,
but now I realize they must have perished in the wars against the
Darkálfars.

“
Keep this between us.”
Layla approaches me and whispers, “I heard that Maureen was born in
Norway during the Viking era and served an evil Empress named
Eiess.” She nods.

“
Really?
Wow!” It makes sense why her home is decorated in Norse
designs
and
why she’s so ruthless. “What happened to all the Lightálfars,
Huldras and Huldus? There were many more in the beginning, weren’t
there?” Mani told me some about it, but I want to know
more.