‘You said Stig lied to the police. Martha?’
Ruth waves her hand in front of my face and my attention snaps back to her.
‘Yes. He told them that Nina wasn’t wearing a harness, but she was. He did it up for her. I think he did it up wrong and then pushed her.’
Her eyes grow wide. ‘What? Did he tell you this?’
‘Not exactly. I figured it out. I confronted him, and you should have seen his face. I think he killed her.’
Ruth frowns. ‘If Nina was wearing a harness, why didn’t the police find it?’
‘Stig must have taken it. I’m guessing he was worried it might have his fingerprints and wanted to hide the evidence.’
‘You’re guessing? You can’t accuse someone of murder on a hunch, Martha.’
My shoulders slump and I stare at the table. I thought Ruth would believe me, that she might even help, but I’ve been wasting my time. I start to stand but she pulls me back down. Her bright hazel eyes search my face. ‘Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of people who don’t trust that boy – God knows why he came back, he’s about as welcome here as a wet shoe – but just because he took off doesn’t mean he’s guilty. You two were an item, weren’t you? What makes you so sure?’
I should tell her the truth about my gift. She has some psychic ability herself, and if she believes in magic, surely she will understand. I take a breath, about to explain, but she speaks first.
‘You know a verdict of accidental death is likely to be passed, and Stig, well, he’s the type who never stays anywhere for long. He’ll move on and . . .’ She holds my gaze without blinking.
‘And?’ I ask.
‘What’s done is done.’
I stare at her in disbelief. ‘I should just let it go, is that what you’re saying? I should let him get away with it?’ The words come out louder than I intended and a girl with pointed ears looks over.
I don’t have time for this. I jump up and Ruth’s eyes flick around the room and back to me. ‘What choice do you have if it’s your word against his?’
‘That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you’re afraid to go back to Ireland. You think people will believe your sister’s husband and not you. I know it must be hard for you, but you can’t let him get away with what he did.’
Ruth stares at me. ‘What are you talking about?’
A cold thought slithers out from the back of my mind. Maybe there’s another reason she wants to leave Nina’s death in the past. There was some mistletoe on her altar; Loki fashioned a spear from mistletoe and gave it to the blind god to kill Baldur. Maybe Ruth is the one who invited him to the circus.
Ruth pushes her hair behind her ear with a trembling hand. ‘I haven’t told you about what happened in Ireland. Who have you been talking to?’
I stare at the table, a blush of shame creeping into my cheeks. Ruth has been through so much, I have no right to tell her how to feel or what to do.
‘Martha? How do you –’
‘The cloth figure in your caravan, the one wrapped in green thread. You did a spell to bind Nina. Did you put a spell on Stig too?’
A look of surprise flashes across her face. ‘How do you know about that? Ulva is the only one I told.’ She glances around the room and speaks quietly. ‘Look, I don’t see what my personal business has to do with any of this.’ She sighs then adds, ‘I will speak to Karl and tell him your suspicions about Stig. If he decides to inform the police, they’re going to need evidence.’
A movement catches my attention and I turn my head and see a girl with short dark hair outside the window. Nina. There’s something odd about the way she moves. She lifts one arm and holds it in the air and then her opposite leg hinges at the knee. She takes a clumsy step forward and I stare with cold fascination.
Ruth carries on speaking but I’m not listening. I bite my bottom lip, unease swirling within me as I walk over to the plastic window panel and look out. Nina lifts her other arm and I realise why she’s walking oddly – there are strings attached to her hands and feet, leading straight up to the sky. She takes several quick steps, her limbs bending awkwardly, and then her arms waver above her head and she tumbles down like a rag doll.
My heart bangs in my chest. I lean forward and check in both directions, the window billowing and touching my nose. Nina has gone. I glance over my shoulder and Ruth is looking at me, a bewildered expression on her face.
I turn back to the window and see a dark shape crouched on the ground, just outside the tent. Suddenly the jester stands up. His white face paint cracks and flakes as he grins at me, his red slash of a mouth pulled too wide and thin. He raises his arm, making the bells of his costume jingle. In his hand are two large wooden handles. He twists them and Nina’s head jerks into view, her arms flopping on strings. Her eyes are no longer black, but glow pale.
I scream and press my hand against the window. ‘What do you want with her? Leave her alone!’
The jester laughs and moves his fingers. This time her body sways from side to side like a pendulum. ‘Tick tock, puppet girl.’
Ruth touches my arm. ‘Martha, who are you talking to? Leave who alone?’ I point outside but she doesn’t see the jester or the ghost girl on strings. Ruth’s face fills with worry and I realise how crazy I must seem. The elves stop chatting and suddenly the room is silent and everyone is staring at me. Masked faces tilt to one side and step closer and my head swims. I have to win the wager. Odin has to help me, there’s no other way.
I turn to Ruth. ‘What time will the last visitor leave tonight?’
She blinks in surprise.
I grab her shoulder, unable to keep the panic from my voice. ‘What time will they leave? Ruth, what time?’
She touches her head. ‘The closing parade is at seven so I suppose it will be an hour or two after that. Why?’
‘Parade?’
‘At the end of the night the performers parade down to the field for the fire show.’
An image comes into my head: the big top in flames and charred puppets crawling over the earth, and my stomach clenches so hard I think I might be sick.
‘Why don’t you sit down?’ Ruth tries to lower me onto a bench but I pull away.
‘There isn’t time, I have to go.’
20
WILL YOU PAY THE PRICE?
I
hurry to the rear of the big top and peer in through the door. A dozen or so people are getting changed and doing their hair and makeup. A few of the actors are there, some of them wearing masks. I see a man wearing a grey cloak and a hat, and almost cry with relief. If I’m going to understand what’s happening and win the wager, I need Odin’s help. Right now, the mask is my only hope of contacting him.
The actor is at the back of the room, talking to a man in a long green coat. No one gives me a passing glance as I hurry to a dressing table, then sit down and do my makeup. I’m just another Valkyrie getting ready for the show. Odin runs a hand over his beard and says, ‘It always starts with me. I am Ofner, opener, the one who breathed life into the first humans, and Svafner, closer, the gatherer of lost souls.’
The other man yawns. ‘Then maybe it’s time for a change.’