Wraithsong (36 page)

“
Yes, they grew to
thousands, but the wars killed most of them. Though I’m not old
enough to remember the most recent war twenty or so years ago, I’ve
heard that so many died in that battle. Thankfully, there hasn’t
been a war since.”

“
It makes me sad that I’m
part of a dying race,” I say.

“
That’s why it’s vital that
you marry a Huldu and procreate.”

I squirm at the
word
procreate
.
“But there are no pure Huldus left, are there?”

“
Well, there was Olaf.” She
smiles glibly.

“
I’d never have married
Olaf,” I say, disgusted.

Layla laughs. “I know what
you mean. I wouldn’t wish that upon you, either.” She pauses for a
moment and her eyes narrow. “I’ve heard rumors that there’s a group
of your kind hidden in the northern European countries. Maybe you
can find them and marry one of them?”

“
Where did you hear that?”
I ask.

“
Maureen used to own
ancient writings with maps of where these clans lived, but now
they’re gone. She thinks Anthony stole them from her.”

I think about the chest he
showed me.

“
But Maureen will do
anything just to stay away from his aggression,” Layla says. “Even
if that includes letting him have those sacred texts.”

I feel sorry for Layla and
that she actually believes the fabrications Maureen has been
feeding her for so long. Layla might have been a good person if
Maureen hadn’t been lying to her all these years, and if she had
known the truth. “Hmm, that’s funny,” I say.

“
What?”

“
Maureen has become what
she was trying to run away from.”

“
Why would you say that?”
Layla snaps, her voice defensive.

“
She owns masses of weapons
and lives by the creed that life is unjust and that only the
fittest survive. Sounds rather aggressive to me, wouldn’t you say?”
I know I’m going out on a limb here with Layla and hold my
breath.

“
Maureen needs to protect
herself from Anthony and her two Darkálfar ex-husbands, and all
others who are out to harm Huldras. She has a right to defend her
life.”

I just nod, but I want to
tell Layla that she’s been living a lie. I don’t think the
information will be received well, so I go in a different
direction. “How old were you when you started working with
Maureen?”

“
Maureen took me in when I
was twelve.” She crosses her arms.

I notice the golden ring on
her finger, an exact replica of Anthony’s golden ring. “Where did
you get your ring?” I gasp.

“
It was my mother’s.
Why?”

I wonder whom Layla’s mom
got it from—maybe Layla’s dad? Who might be Anthony’s dad, too? I
refrain from telling her that Anthony has the exact same ring that
his dad gave him, so instead, I ask, “Did you know your
dad?”

“
No,” Layla says,
immediately rigid.

“
Where did you live growing
up?” I’m glad it has become so easy to ask her
questions.

“
Kensington,” she
answers.

“
Are you sure that you and
Anthony don’t share the same father?” I ask and hold my
breath.

She looks at her ring for a
moment, and I suspect that my hunch about her ring being from her
dad is true. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sonia. I don’t want to hear talk
like that. Besides, Maureen would never lie to me about such
things.”

I hesitate. “Are you
sure?”

“
Of course, I’m sure.
Maureen is like a mother to me, and she has always been there
through thick and thin.” Layla’s pale green eyes catch the light
from the setting sun coming in from the window. Her eyes flash, as
if a field of pain sleeps beyond them, and I think maybe she too,
like Anthony, is seeking love and acceptance from Maureen. My heart
bleeds for her, knowing she’ll never find it there.

“
I’m sorry—it’s just I
really think that...”

Laylas eyes go wild and she
shoves me up against the walnut closet that stands next to the bed.
It rattles as my back slams against it. Her forearm presses up
underneath my chin. I can’t breathe. “Stop talking right now, or
I’ll tell Maureen, and you’ll regret it!”

“
Sure,” I croak, adrenaline
rushing through my veins. “No more words, I promise.” Sometimes
people can’t hear the truth, because they’re so afraid of losing
the story they keep telling themselves—their hard-earned
identity.

Layla releases her grip
slowly, her eyes softening, looking away as if she’s ashamed of her
reaction. “I’m sorry. I just…Maureen is the only one who’s been
there for me. I’ll protect both her reputation and her life with my
own. Once you get to know her, you’ll see that she’s good, even
though she’s not perfect.” She opens the door and looks
absentmindedly out into the hallway. “Any questions before I
dismiss you?”

“
No,” I say, still trying
to recover from the blow.

Layla leaves the room and I
finally exhale. I think back to Anthony, and how much he must have
suffered growing up around Maureen’s insanity. His family, the ones
who should have loved and accepted him, hated and abandoned him,
and fed him lie upon lie. How did he recover from that? Has he
recovered from that? If he did, how did he find the strength to
trust again—trust me—and risk his life for me? I know there’s so
much he hasn’t told me, so much pain he must hold inside. I wonder
if it will eventually all come out. I want to be there when it
does. I want to be the one to catch him when he plummets into the
chasm of pain that I know hides beneath his strong shell. I’ll fill
him with so much love that he’ll never need another and will never
remember how much pain his shattered soul endured.

Chapter 38

After I peel myself out of
the sausage dress, I meander back to my room. I watch the clock
obsessively, waiting for the noises in all the rooms to die down,
telling me that everyone has gone to bed. Finally, around ten past
eleven, all lights are out, and the silence of the night falls over
the castle.

I step out into the dark
hallway and take a right. I haven’t been in that direction since I
came here and was dragged to my room by Layla. Please, God, help me
find my mom. I try to open every door, but they’re all locked and
the end of the hallway is a dead-end. Feeling a bit discouraged, I
decide to try a different part of the castle and head to the second
floor again. I should really try the third floor, I think on my way
up the stairs. It’s the only floor I’m forbidden to enter, and
there’s probably a good reason why.

A large vestibule with
vaulted cathedral ceilings opens up as I reach the third floor. My
heart beats because the flights of stairs were arduous to climb,
and because I know I shouldn’t be here. Orange couches are pushed
against the walls on the right and left and stand between double
French doors. Three fluted marble pillars stand on either side. I
walk across the Persian carpet to the end of the room where a
gigantic painting of a Viking ship hangs. The frame of the painting
is made of gold. I reach to trace my fingers across the ridged oil
painting, but instead, and to my astonishment, my fingers go beyond
the canvas and paint and into an unknown territory. I gasp and
withdraw my hand. “A portal,” I whisper. I touch it again and
notice that as my hand reaches beyond the painting, where my hand
meets the image, blue sparks surround my hand. Huh, I think. Hence
the name Blufire. It’s not painful, but it definitely
tingles.

Then behind me, I hear a
low growl. It sounds like Anthony’s beast growl and I swivel
around. “What are you doing here?” I’m excited that he’s here, but
puzzled, because our agreement was that I’d come to him if I found
my mom. Maybe something went wrong on his end and he needed to
contact me.

The beast continues
growling, and charges toward me. Snarling, he licks his fangs, and
pounces on top of me. His claws dig into my flesh, and pierce my
skin.

“
Anthony, stop! You’re
hurting me!” I yell.

But the beast doesn’t stop.
He bites hold of my clothes and drags me across the room and down
the stairs. I get the sense that I’ve done something very wrong and
shouldn’t be here.

“
Anthony, let me go, you’re
hurting me!” I cry again. Blood oozes from my arms now where his
claws have pierced my flesh. In a millisecond, I realize that this
beast can’t possibly be Anthony. He wouldn’t hurt me. “Who are
you?”

The beast growls and shakes
me violently. I try to minimize the shaking by grabbing onto the
beast’s mane, but it doesn’t help, and probably only provokes the
beast further.

I’m terrified. With one
move, this beast could kill me, and from the looks of it, that’s
what it’s planning on doing. Down on the ground floor again, the
beast flings me across the foyer so I slam into the front door,
shattering the glass on impact. The creature growls again so loudly
that I have to cover my ears. My body aches and the adrenaline
rages through every inch of my being. Slinking toward me again, the
beast stops a few feet away. It paces the floor back and forth a
few dozen times and then as quickly as it appeared, disappears up
the stairwell.

My first instinct is to
cry, but I can’t afford to. I have to remain strong and I need to
go see Anthony and tell him about this—now. I stumble out to the
stable and saddle up the horse I rode earlier. Then I grab a smelly
old wool blanket from one of the stalls, and race to the beach. It
will be many hours before Anthony arrives, but I don’t dare to wait
in my room, afraid the beast will return to kill me. I tie the
horse to one of the nearby trees and curl up into a ball on the
sand. It takes me a while before I’m able to calm myself from what
just happened, but eventually I fall asleep under the star speckled
sky with tears streaming down my cheeks, the fear of dying being so
real that I feel dead already.

* * *

“
Sonia, wake up.” I hear
Anthony’s voice in the back of my dream. I wake and sit up
immediately, eager to share the news of my frightening night. It’s
still murky outside, but from the deep pinkish hue in the sky, dawn
seems to be right around the corner. I’m sore all over, and as I
move, the stabbing pain from where the beast’s claws dug into my
skin engulfs me. Rushing toward Anthony, I knock him over. We both
fall into the sea with a splash and I laugh hysterically for a
moment, but it’s only to cover up my pain and hysteria. I become
vulnerable around him and can’t hold back my tears. Crying and
laughing at the same time, I stagger to my feet, the salt water
stinging my bleeding flesh.

“
What’s wrong? What
happened to you? You’re bleeding!” Anthony exclaims, examining my
wounds.

I sob uncontrollably.
“There was…another beast…like you in the castle. I thought it was
you, but it wasn’t. It dragged…me down the stairs and...well, first
I saw the portal that looks like a mural…and then…” I can’t even
think straight, the fear has come rushing back now, filling my body
with panic.

“
Whoa, calm down, you’re
safe now. Just breathe,” he coaches me as he draws me near, careful
to avoid my injuries. “Slowly, now tell me everything that
happened.”

I tell him what happened
and then sigh at length, feeling much better now that I’ve shared
it with him.

“
Maureen,” he says, his
eyes hateful. “I’m going to kill her!”

“
Wait, Maureen’s the
beast?” That thought had never occurred to me. Now I see what Layla
was trying to do when I first mentioned the beast. She was trying
to protect Maureen, because Maureen transforms into the same beast
as Anthony, and Layla knows about it. I wonder if Layla knows that
Anthony’s also one of the beasts. Probably not.

“
Most likely. Although
she’s a Huldra, she has killed so many Darkálfars and appropriated
their character traits that she must have gained the ability to
shape-shift along the way.”

“
But if she’s on the
Darkálfars’ side, why would she kill them?”

“
She’s only on their side
when it suits her,” Anthony says.

“
Oh.” Maureen’s words come
back to me; life is unjust—only the fittest survive. “Do you know
about Layla?” I say.

“
Who?”

“
Layla says she’s Maureen’s
ex-husband’s daughter.”

“
Never heard of her,”
Anthony says, shaking his head.

It has probably never
occurred to him that he might have a sister, and I don’t think I
should bring it up right now. I study my wounds. They are deep.
“Maureen knows now, Anthony—she knows that I know about you and
that you’re the beast, and…and that you’ve been on the island to
visit me. I said your name when she was hurting me.” I wish I
hadn’t.

“
You can’t stay here
another minute. You need to come with me. Let’s get you back onto
the mainland and then...” He pulls me gently with him, but I
resist.

I release his hand. “What
about my mom? I can’t leave her—I won’t.”

“
If you go back there,
Maureen will imprison you,” Anthony says.