I sigh heavily. ‘He came to see me in the psychic tent as a man and then I saw him again, only as a jester.’
He looks at me unsure. ‘Faen. You’re serious, aren’t you?’
‘I didn’t want to tell you, but it’s not just Nina here. I saw dozens of dead in the big top last night. I don’t know why or how they’re here, but Loki wanted me to find them.’ Stig’s eyes dart in the direction of the road and a huff of disappointment escapes me. Of course he won’t want to stay now. ‘Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll open the road soon.’
‘What?’ He shakes his head as if I’ve misunderstood him completely. ‘I’m not going anywhere, not if you’re in danger. I’m staying with you, if you’ll let me.’ I give a tight smile then look away, knowing that words are easy.
He takes a deep breath. ‘Look, I’ve promised to be honest with you, Martha, and there’s something I should say.’ My body tenses and I search his eyes, afraid of what I might see. ‘I told you before that I was nervous about going back to the cabin after everything that happened, and it’s true. But there’s another reason I didn’t reply to your messages. I needed time to think about what I really wanted. I’ve fallen into relationships before and they didn’t go well, and I wanted things to be different with you.’
I raise my eyebrows and he talks quickly. ‘I know you can’t leave your mum, not with how she is, and you have to water the tree. Moving to the island meant giving up my dreams – of biking around Europe and seeing all the places Dad talked about. I wanted to be sure, because the last thing I want is to let you down, and if I messaged you I knew we’d start talking and I wouldn’t be able to keep away from you.’ He pauses and then adds weakly, ‘I guess I was worried things were happening too fast.’
‘You should have told me.’
He nods, a tentative smile on his face, and I find myself feeling sad instead of angry. He’s right. Things did happen fast between us. But then everything was so intense, seeing the dead and the draugr attacking the cabin. At one point, we weren’t sure if we were going to survive the night. I spent so much time worrying about the way I look and wondering if he liked me. Perhaps I focused on him so much because I didn’t want to face the awful things that were happening. He was something to cling to when everything felt hopeless.
Though it doesn’t excuse his behaviour, I understand why he needed time alone to come to a decision. If he’s been impulsive and rushed into relationships before, it makes sense to want to be sure.
‘So what made you change your mind?’ I ask.
‘Nothing. I just needed to figure things out, and I have. I want to be with you.’
He squeezes my shoulder and then glances at his glove as if inviting me to read the material, but I don’t need my gift to know that he means every word. A familiar fondness spreads in my chest, along with relief. If Loki was involved in Nina’s death then Stig didn’t have anything to do with it. Whatever happens in the future, right now I’m glad to have a friend.
I glance in the direction of the clearing, torn between talking to Stig and going after Karl. Stig notices me looking and gives me a pained smile. ‘I know now isn’t the time to be saying all this, but I’d already decided to go back to the island when I heard you were at the circus. I realise I have to make things up to you, but I want you to know you can rely on me. Please can we start again?’
I pull his hand from my shoulder and his expression changes from anxiety to relief as I squeeze his palm and smile. ‘OK, but you’re right, now isn’t the time. Come on, I want to see what Karl does.’
14
HER DEATH WAS NO ACCIDENT
A
fter a few minutes, we emerge from the forest. The performers are in the field gathered around the ringmaster, who stands on a high metal platform. He raises a fist to the sky and booms in a deep voice. ‘At Ragnarok, all chains will be loosened, freeing those that are bound. The wolf Fenrir will escape his shackles and Loki himself will ferry the dead to fight the gods.’ Horned figures thrust their skull poles in the air and scream a war cry. So that’s what the performers are meant to be: a horde of the dead brought by Loki.
A group of wild-looking Viking women stride to the front, some carrying shields painted with rune signs and others beating animal-skin drums. They wear armoured leather breastplates with winged shoulders and their hair is braided into tiny plaits. Most have metal chains stretched across their foreheads with elaborate silver centrepieces – a raven, a wolf, a valknut. Their makeup is simple but stunning. A band of black covers their eyes; some with vertical lines on each cheek, others a feathered network of branches reaching to their hairline.
Performers file in behind them: the Norns and ravens on stilts and various gods and goddesses. I recognise Sandrine in her bird outfit, but otherwise it could be anyone behind the masks. The drumbeat quickens and the warrior women move their tongues fast, yelling an ululation – a wavering, high-pitched sound somewhere between a screech and a howl.
Karl stands to one side, talking animatedly to Ruth and the seamstress. He shouts for them to stop the performance, but his voice is no match for the ringmaster’s. Refusing to be beaten, the old man hurries across the field and climbs the rigging of the platform. He yanks the loudspeaker from the ringmaster’s hands and dozens of people below pause and stare in bewilderment. Eventually Oskar appears and waves his arms, signalling for them to break. A few drift away, but most of the performers crowd around him and demand answers, their voices full of fear.
‘How do you know Loki wanted you to find the dead?’ Stig asks me.
I tell him about the puppet and invitation and his eyes grow large.
‘Can I see it?’
‘The card?’
He nods and I shrug. ‘Sure, it’s in my caravan.’ I don’t know what Stig thinks he can do to help, but it’s a relief to have someone to talk to about it. As we near my door, I see something that makes my throat close. The puppet is sitting on the step, back straight and head tilted to one side, its red slash of a mouth twisted in a smile as if happy to see us. I turn away, not wanting to think about how it got there. Maybe it crawled out of the snow. Thinking about the jester makes me feel weak. I don’t know if my life is in danger, but I know that he can control me, that I am completely powerless against him.
Stig sees my face and frowns, his jaw set with determination. ‘I’ll get rid of it.’
‘Be careful, Stig.’
He strides to the door. ‘I think there’s some matches and lighter fluid under the sink.’
I hand him my key, careful not to go near the thing, and a moment later he emerges with his pockets bulging. He lifts the puppet by its foot and it hangs limply from his hand. ‘I’ll take it to the far side of the site. I’ll be as quick as I can. Will you be OK on your own?’
‘Yes. Thanks.’
He hesitates, his eyes full of concern. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’ll be fine, really.’
He gives me an uncertain smile and then takes off. I watch him hurry across the field and let out a shaky breath, grateful that I won’t have to deal with it. Dozens of performers are walking back across the site, so presumably Karl managed to stop the rehearsal.