by Cate Martin
"Are you friends with any of the Nelsens?" I asked. "Anyone who would share any information with us?"
"Not really," Andrew said.
"Tore will come to me," my grandmother said. "Whether the news is good or bad, he'll come tell me."
"Well, that's something," I said. "But if we're just waiting to hear something, why send Luke to fetch me?"
"We're not all waiting, apparently," my grandmother said, then rolled up the waffle on her plate and began eating from one end like it was a buttery burrito.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"Two of the Sorensens are gone," Andrew told me. "Maybe it doesn't mean anything-"
"Or maybe they're guilty," I finished for him.
"They left after I told them all to stay," my grandmother said, and her eyes were boring into mine, looking for a sign that I understood what she was really saying.
"They were there this morning, when you told everyone to stay?" I guessed. She nodded, satisfied that I had caught her meaning, and turned her attention back to her waffle.
I had thought my grandmother had been using magic to amplify her voice, but now I was pretty sure she had put a little compulsion in it as well, to get the others to do as she asked. That made sense. She had been so quickly drained by what she did, it had to be more magically taxing than just making her voice sound louder.
"Are we suspicious?" Loke asked. His eyes were moving from me to my grandmother, but it was Andrew who answered.
"It doesn't look great," he said as he got up to carry his plate to the sink. "Why would they leave in such a hurry?"
"Who left?" I asked.
"Keith and Ralf, two cousins about my age," Andrew said. "They're both farming Sorensens. Carl told me they were going to their hunting cabin. They hadn't bagged anything yet, and the season ends tomorrow."
"Haven't bagged any what yet?" I asked. "What are they hunting?"
"Bear," he said. "Their story checks out as far as it goes. The bear season ends tomorrow, and if they had gotten one already, it would be the talk of the town."
Then he turned on the water and started scrubbing the sticky syrup off of his plate. My grandmother quickly waved for Loke and I to lean in closer to her.
"Do you think they've gotten into something magical that let them circumvent your orders?" Loke asked in a hurried whisper.
"Sadly, I don't think so. I think I'm just that off my game these days," my grandmother said. Then she turned to me. "Villmark?"
"I was compelled to," I said, and I could feel my cheeks flushing guiltily.
"Not an outside force," Loke quickly added. "But if it was a guiding force, it was a vague one." My grandmother nodded at his words as if they made sense to her.
"What are we talking about?" I asked.
"Yes, what are we talking about?" Andrew asked as well as he turned off the water and reached for the dishtowel to dry his hands.
"We should go find those two Sorensens," Loke said.
"We? You mean us?" Andrew asked.
"Luke and I can do it," I said.
"No, I'm not trying to get out of helping," he said. "Most of my day is free, so I'm all yours. It's just, isn't this a police matter?"
"Do the police think they are suspects?" Loke asked, raising his eyebrows.
"I have no idea. Do we think they're suspects?" Andrew countered.
"Anyone could get a hold of a fishing spear," I mumbled to myself, but when I noticed everyone was leaning in to hear me, I went on at a normal volume. "They left when my grandmother specifically asked them not to. You thought that was important enough to come tell us."
"Yeah," Andrew said, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked confused, like he didn't know why he had done that.
"We should just talk to them," Loke said. "Maybe they really did go to hunt bear, and we can just give them a talking to for not checking in before they left town. Or maybe there's a different reason they left." Andrew was still rubbing at his neck, but Loke caught my eye and tapped his own sternum. At first I didn't understand, but then I realized he was touching the point just below the V in his sweater's neck. The point where he could hide an amulet, as Halldis had hidden hers.
I raised my eyebrows at him. These two Runde brothers had access to magic like that?
Loke just shrugged. Who knows?
"Yes, we should talk to them," I agreed, out loud for Andrew's benefit. "I haven't taken my car out for a spin since Andrew's dad finished fixing it up. Assuming we know where to find them?"
"I can get the address from Tobias," Andrew said, reaching for the phone in his back pocket.
"Great," Loke said, pushing up from the table and making a show of stretching out his back. "It's a tiny car, isn't it?"
"It's a Volkswagen Beetle," I said. "You don't have to come-"
"Oh, I'm coming," he said. "I'm curious about this business."
"I'll come to," Andrew said absentmindedly, his thumbs still typing out a text.
"And Mjolner and I shall stay here," my grandmother said, shoving the cat in question off the table before he could get a paw into the open crock of butter. As usual, he had gotten from the yard into the house without the aid of a cat door. "I think I'll take a little bit of a nap. But, Ingrid, be sure to wake me the minute you get back to Runde. No wandering off."
"Yes, mormor," I promised, fighting the urge to raise my fingers in the scout's gesture.
"I mean it," she said, but her voice lacked force. She looked really tired, and I was tempted to send Andrew and Loke to investigate without me. But then she looked up at me again. "Wake me when you get back. We have some other matters to discuss, but for now I need sleep."
I promised again, secretly hoping that the next time we were both at the table together, we'd be alone.
Chapter 9
Although the repairs - the very extensive, very expensive repairs - had been completed more than a week ago, my car was still in Andrew's father's garage behind the gas station. There really wasn't anywhere to park it at my grandmother's house. So after leaving the house, we had to climb the steep path up the bluff to the level of the highway.
This was the fourth time I'd hiked uphill that day, and it was barely past breakfast time. But that was no longer unusual for me these days. Without intending to, I was getting into much better shape than I'd been in since I'd left my high school track days behind. I no longer got more than mildly winded, although I was still in awe of my grandmother, who had twice my stamina at more than three times my age.
"You've started it up, right?" Andrew asked as we emerged at the top of the path and headed across the overly large, empty parking lot to the open doorway to his father's garage. "You know it runs?"
"Your dad had me do that when he was done fixing it," I said. "It starts fine."
"But you didn't drive it around?" he asked.
"No," I confessed. "I meant to take it out some Sunday, maybe drive down to Duluth, but stuff kept coming up." I knew that sounded lame to his ears. He didn't know about my intensive course of magical study, and I couldn't really think of another excuse for being busy all the time when he knew I didn't have a job.
"I suppose," Andrew said. "Jessica told me you're going to be hanging some of your work up in her café. That's cool. You're getting your name out there."
"Yes, although it's past tourist season, so I'm not getting my hopes up just yet," I said.
"It'll be skiing season before you know it," he said. "We get traffic then too. I know Jessica is hoping to capitalize on that since she opened too late for summer tourists."
"I should probably get some stuff framed then," I said, more to myself than to him.
We went inside the garage and I saw my parents' little yellow Volkswagen Beetle waiting for me just where I'd left it. It didn't look as good as new, but it didn't look like I'd driven it straight into a tree either.
"Finally taking her out?" Andrew's father Jens asked. It took a second for me to find where he was, but then he slid out fr
om under another car and sat up, wiping his greasy hands on an equally greasy rag.
"Yes," I said. "We're heading up the Gunflint Trail a ways."
"Well, go ahead and start her up again," he said, tucking the rag into the pocket of his coveralls. "I want to give her another listen before I let you go."
"Okay," I said, sliding into the driver's seat. Andrew got into the passenger side, and Loke somehow managed to fold up his long legs enough to slide past the driver's seat to fit in the tiny backseat.
I suspected magic may have been involved.
Then I pushed the seat back and got in. I put the key in the ignition and held my breath before giving it a turn. The engine roared instantly to life, but something was wrong. I couldn't quite place it, but it didn't sound like it should.
"Sounds good," Jens said, then looked at me. "You don't think so?"
"I don't know," I said. "Something's off."
"Tell me," he said. "I always listen to a driver's instincts."
"I don't think I have a driver's instinct," I said, but suddenly I knew what was wrong. "The rattle. It's gone."
"Well, yeah," he said. "Did you want to keep it?"
"No, this is great," I said. "I don't think I've ever heard this engine run so smooth."
"Well, if you do run into any trouble, you have Andrew there with you," Jens said, rubbing his hands on the rag again. He wasn't getting them any cleaner. "He has the skill of a mechanic, if not the calling. Failing that, call me. I can come get you with the tow truck."
"Thanks, Mr. Swanson," I said.
"It's Jens," he said, gesturing towards the highway, or more correctly towards the gas station that stood between us and it. "Mr. Swanson is my father."
"Thank you, Jens," I said. I hadn't met the eldest Swanson, not having gone inside the gas station yet, but I had seen him through the windows when I was walking by, and he always gave me a wave.
I backed out of the garage and then pulled up to the freeway. As I was checking for traffic, I saw that Andrew was slumped down in his seat, arms crossed and a rather grumpy look on his face. I waited until I was safely up to speed on the highway before asking, "what's up?"
"She means with you, dummy," Loke said, nudging Andrew in the shoulder when he didn't answer my question.
"I'm fine," he said. "It's just that thing with my dad."
"What thing with your dad?" I asked.
"The thing where he's always on about how I don't want to do my part in the family business."
"I must've missed that thing," I said. I caught Loke's eye in my rearview mirror, but he just shrugged. "Your dad seemed pretty understanding, in as much as he even mentioned it."
"It sounds different to a practiced ear," Andrew said.
"He said you had skill," I said.
"With engines," Andrew said.
"Isn't that still a good thing?" I asked.
"As far as that goes, sure," he said grumpily. "He's never going to say I have skill with any other line of work. That's the point."
"Oh, that's the point?" Loke said, amusing himself if not the rest of us.
"But we were talking about cars," I said. "What else was he supposed to say?"
"Never mind," Andrew said, and sank lower into his seat.
"Artists," Loke said. "So temperamental."
"Hey," I said. "I'm not temperamental."
"Whatever," Loke scoffed. "I've heard you lamenting to Michelle and Jessica that you haven't sold anything yet. It's only been a month since you got here. Being impatient is a temperament."
I decided not to respond to that. But it wasn't easy. "So, what are these two Sorensens like?" I asked. "Do you know them?"
"They're cousins, both farming Sorensens," Andrew said, and finally started to untense his body. "Keith and Ralf. I knew them a little in high school. They were both two years ahead of me. They really like to hunt."
"I don't suppose you know if either of them ever go spear fishing?" I asked.
"It's possible," he said.
"Do you think they're the type to be angry about that bridge?" I asked.
"Definitely yes," he said. "If there was ever a fight at school, it was nearly always between a farming Sorensen and a Nelsen. And Keith and Ralf were involved as much as anybody. But murder? I don't know. It just seems so... extreme."
"It is, no matter who did it," Loke said from the back seat. "Do you know how hard it would be to kill someone like that? The prongs wouldn't do it, not unless you nicked something vital by some fluke. No, you'd pretty much have to hold them underwater until it was done."
"That's grim," I said.
"You'd almost have to have a deep sustained anger to do it," he said. "That's our suspect list. Angry people."
We reached Grand Marais, and I turned off the highway at the sign shaped like a voyageur portaging his canoe, the words Gunflint Trail spelled out on the side of his canoe. We soon left signs of civilization behind as the road ran through the hills and past the lakes of the Superior National Forest.
I would really have to come back sometime with my sketchbook. The views were as inspiring as any Viking ship.
Well, almost.
"It's just on the other side of this lake," Andrew said after we'd passed the better part of an hour in silence. "There's an unmarked road, easy to miss. That's what Tobias told me."
"I'll slow down," I said, glancing in my rearview to be sure no one was behind me before letting off the gas. We reached the other side of the lake at a crawl and had no trouble making the turn, although I could see why Tobias had said it would be easy to miss. Weeds nearly overran the dirt road, and the trees were so close on either side it felt tight even in the Volkswagen.
We bumped and rolled over the potholed road until finally a little cabin came into view. The road led up to it and ended in a little turnabout between the cabin and what appeared to be an outhouse. I pulled next to a pickup truck and shut off the engine.
"Wake up, Luke," Andrew said, reaching into the back seat to give Loke a swat on the knee. He opened just one eye to glare at Andrew.
"I'm awake," he said. "Are they here?"
"That's what we're about to find out," Andrew said.
I got out of the car and stretched out my back as I looked around. The cabin was in the middle of a forest of evergreen trees with the occasional stand of now leafless birch. The only sound was the ticking of my engine as it cooled.
Andrew and then Loke got out of the other side of the car and the three of us walked up to the cabin to knock on the door, but there was no answer.
"Outhouse, maybe?" I said.
"There's another shed in back," Loke said. "I'm going to check it out."
But there was no one in the outhouse or the shed, and no one answered a knock at the back door either.
"Well, if they really came here to hunt-" I said.
"They'd be out in the woods," Andrew finished for me with a sigh. "Hopefully they don't range far from the cabin." But he didn't sound hopeful.
"We should split up," Loke said. He pointed to the thickest patch of woods behind the cabin, "Andrew, you go that way. Ingy, you take the strip of trees between here and the road. I'll take everything between."
"I have two bars," Andrew said, looking at his phone. "Better than none, which is what we'll probably have away from the cabin. We should meet back here in an hour whether we find anyone or not. Agreed?"
"Agreed," I said, and started towards my assigned area, but very slowly. The minute Andrew disappeared into the trees, I ran to catch Loke before he was out of sight. "Loke, can we do anything?"
"We are doing something," he said with the usual perverse humor in his voice.
"I meant something magical, something to speed this up," I said.
"Speeding up is good," he said. "But magic out here is less so."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
He gave an exaggerated sigh. "Haven't you been learning anything about magic yet?"
"Yes, but for the sake of argumen
t, let's say no," I said. "Just tell me what you mean."
"Look, for now it's best if you don't try to do anything outside of Runde," he said. "And of course Villmark is safer."
"Why?" I asked. "Is it going to blow up in my face, or attract other magic-users, or what?"
"All the above," he said. "Just don't. And ask your mormor about it. She's going to want you to have her answer to that, not mine."
"Not yours because you totally do magic wherever you want to, don't you?" I asked. I could hear mischief in my own voice. He was rubbing off on me.
His eyes glinted with manic glee, but he kept his voice stern. "Never you mind about that. You have a job to do. That's your section over there."
"I'm going, I'm going," I said.
I headed into my section of the woods, which was more beech than evergreen. This made it easier going, the branches spread wide overhead as I shuffled through the piles of dried leaves. I could occasionally catch glimpses of another lake up ahead of me, which was good. If I was searching a box between the road and the cabin with lakes on the other two sides, I couldn't get lost.
The moment that thought struck me, I realized I couldn't hear just where the road was. There had only been occasional traffic when we'd been driving on it, but I should be hearing cars pass every couple of minutes, and I wasn't. I turned towards where I thought the road should be, but there was no sign of it through the trees.
I looked at my phone. I had no bars, and most of the hour had passed while I had been in a daydream of admiring the trees with their patterned bark and delicate limbs. I should head back.
I turned again and started walking the way I had come. Only nothing was looking familiar. But there had been no real landmarks on the walk out, just tree after tree. I hadn't paid enough attention to the forest while looking at the trees to be sure this wasn't the way I had come. The sky overhead was completely cloudy now, the sun obscured and no help.
