The Shapeshifters

by Stefan Spjut

‘We need to speak to her,’ Susso said. ‘About her son.’

  The man stopped walking. His eyes moved between Gudrun and Susso.

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘We would really rather tell Mona,’ Susso said. ‘Is she at home?’

  ‘She’s down by the lake.’

  ‘Is it far?’

  ‘Just follow the road and then turn left. She’s burning reeds,’ he added, and it took a second or two for Susso to realise that he was telling them to keep a lookout for the flames.

  They got into the car again and Gudrun reversed out of the drive and narrowly avoided a collision.

  From behind a straggly hedge that edged the plot of land and hid the gravel road from view appeared the bonnet of a large motorhome, with six eyes and a Mercedes emblem in the middle. Gudrun braked so hard that the back of Susso’s head was thrown against the headrest.

  The motorhome rolled slowly past, and as they followed it on its way towards the ice-covered lake that soon came into view Gudrun became irritated that it was driving so slowly.

  ‘Something’s up with the squirrel,’ Torbjörn said. ‘There’s some kind of danger. It’s like it’s warning me about something.’

  The little animal was sitting on Torbjörn’s chest, holding up its paws as if to show them it had no need to hold on. When Torbjörn tried to remove the squirrel his top went with it in four extended cones as the animal’s claws dug into the material. He had to pull hard to loosen its grip, which the squirrel did not like. It struggled in Torbjörn’s hands and made an angry chattering sound.

  Torbjörn dropped the squirrel onto the seat, but it did not want to be there and instantly returned to his chest, resuming its strident chatter directly in his face.

  ‘What do you want?’ he said, concerned. ‘What’s so dangerous?’

  ‘There she is,’ said Gudrun.

  Some distance along a small track a woman was standing looking at a pile of reeds. She was wearing a hat and a dark-blue padded waistcoat. In her hand she held a stick, pointed towards the ground. A white fog of smoke rising from the pile was the only sign that the reeds were burning, and every so often it hid the woman from view.

  They drove up into the snow at the roadside and left the car there. Then they walked along the track. One side was lined with bushy spruces, their bark grey, and towards the water the ground was marshy, with alders and leaning willows in a tangle of undergrowth.

  Susso had brought the briefcase with her but they had left the squirrel in the car. It might be too much all at once, especially given the way it was behaving: Torbjörn practically had to throw it down on the seat. He trudged along behind Gudrun and Susso, pulling at the neck of his sweatshirt and looking down at his chest to see if there were any scratch marks from the claws.

  A floating jetty extended into the water. Under the elder trees were a couple of wooden trestles supporting a surfboard. It was patchy with green algae, and a thermos flask was balanced on the top. Mona looked at them searchingly. Her hair was tucked under her knitted hat, her complexion was tanned and downy, and her jaw line was slack. Small feathers protruded through her waistcoat and long, wavy strands of hair had attached themselves to her fleece-lined collar.

  ‘We’ve come about . . .’ Susso began, but she fell silent as Mona’s gaze moved over her shoulder, and when she swung round she saw that the man they had been speaking to up at the house was walking along the track towards them. He had pulled on a woollen hat and clearly wanted to know what was going on.

  ‘We would like to talk to you about what happened in 1978,’ Gudrun said. ‘When your son disappeared.’

  Mona did not appear to be surprised. She did not even look at them. She was quiet for a long time, poking at the ground with her stick, which was scorched at the tip and left small grey holes in the snow.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Have you read in the paper about the Vaikijaur man?’

  She said she had.

  ‘The person who took Mattias . . . we think . . .’

  ‘We think he belongs to the stallo folk,’ Gudrun interrupted. ‘They are a kind of troll, you might say. Lapland trolls, which really do exist. And we think whoever took Magnus also belonged to the stallo folk. And that’s what we want to talk to you about, Mona, because if they did take Magnus, then perhaps he is still alive.’

  They had not expected Mona to be overjoyed by the news, but they had expected her to be astonished at the very least. Instead she continued prodding with the stick as if she were writing in the snow.

  ‘Did you ever find out anything about the giant?’ Gudrun continued. ‘Anything at all? Whether anyone has seen him somewhere else?’

  ‘I haven’t wanted to talk about it,’ Mona answered. ‘Or rather, I haven’t had anyone I wanted to talk about it with.’

  ‘You can talk to us about it, if you like,’ said Gudrun.

  Suddenly Torbjörn leapt over the planks leading onto the jetty. Susso looked at him in surprise, but she had no time to wonder what had got into him because at the same time she heard a sound of smashing and crunching, followed immediately by a noisy crash.

  It was a car window giving way.

  Through the haze of smoke she saw someone standing over by the Passat.

  Quite rationally she thought someone was trying to break into the car, but why the hell were they doing that in broad daylight? It had to be some druggie. It was not until she stepped to one side and had a clear view that she saw what it was, and the fear sliced open a freezing cold chasm in her chest.

  In among the fir trees a stone’s throw behind Hybblet there was a hatch cover in the ground. It was made of steel and hidden by a piece of carpet with a pattern that looked like moss. Now, however, the snow lay in such deep drifts between the tree trunks that Seved had to stamp around scraping it away for a good half-hour before the shovel uncovered the frozen remnant.

  Twilight was starting to fall in the forest. The trees gradually melted together forming black shapes, and the snow became a grey mass. A raven cawed somewhere and away on the main road a lorry drove past.

  When he saw the rusty-brown shades of the carpet below the layer of snow he stopped to think. There was so much that could go wrong and he had no idea where it would end. That was probably the worst thing. Where was he to go? He tried not to think about it. He would think about Mattias and Signe. Amina.

  He had to do it now. There would never be a better opportunity. Both Karats and Lennart were far away, and so was Börje, in a sense. He was not himself, anyway, and he had been like that ever since he had returned from Kiruna.

  He cleared the snow slowly, trying not to make a noise. If the shovel hit the hatch cover, the sound would be carried through the tunnel and into the hide. That was just over fifty metres away and the carpet would absorb the clang of metal, but there was no doubt it would be heard. Skabram was probably asleep but the little creatures never slept, at least not all at the same time, and not very deeply. If they heard an unfamiliar noise, they would wake the others immediately.

  The only thing he knew about the tunnel was that Börje’s father had made it with the intention of creating a rear exit for the hide. He had seen the hatch once, when he was about ten years old. Naturally, the hairy old-timers had not bothered to disguise it. Börje and Ejvor had gone to the trouble of doing so, but on that occasion they seemed not to notice that the carpet had been pushed aside. Or had the hatch not been hidden then? Seved could only remember the rectangular plate of steel in the moss and how it had alarmed him. Because of course he understood who would be coming in and out.

  He did not uncover the carpet completely. Instead he cleared away enough to be able to cut it open and get at the handles, which he clearly recalled. Two lengths of reinforced steel that had been bent and welded in place on each of the double doors.

  He dropped to his knees and removed his gloves. After thrusting them into his pockets he took out the Mora knife. His nose had started running and he wiped it on the back of his han
d. He could feel the two raised handles below the frozen pile of the carpet. The blade was blunt and he had to saw hard to cut through the nylon backing. It was not easy to do and he had to take care in case the knife scraped against the metal below.

  Once he had slashed open a hole big enough for him to insert his fingers, he tried to widen it by pulling the carpet apart, but it was tougher than he had expected. He had to make a few more cuts with the knife. Now at least he could get his hand inside and reach the handles. He tugged them. They seemed to be attached firmly enough.

  The chain hanging on the stump of a branch of a nearby spruce tree glittered like a silver eye in the thickening darkness. Its oval links were not especially thick, but he planned to wrap it around the handles as many times as he could. Skabram was incredibly strong but this would hold. It had to hold. For a while he had considered taking the tractor and parking it with its back wheels on the cover, but he risked getting stuck in the deep snow, and anyway it would make too much noise.

  He fed the chain through the handles as carefully as he could so that it would not clang against the reinforced steel. The chain formed a thick skein and he had to wrestle with stiff frozen fingers to get the bolt of the padlock in place. When he had fastened the lock he threw a few shovels of snow on top of the cover and then strode hurriedly away.

  ‘But the door,’ Amina said. ‘He’ll break down the door.’

  She was sitting on the bed with her legs pulled up under her chin, and beside her Mattias was sitting with his head bowed and his face lit up by a twittering electronic game he was holding in both hands. He did not appear to be listening to them, and that was just as well.

  Quietly Seved explained his plan. When Hybblet started to burn, Skabram would run down the tunnel but find he could not get out that way, and by the time he ran back the fire would have spread down the stairs and blocked his exit. Fear and anger would bring out the bear in him, and when he shifted shape the flames would set his fur alight. If he did not die from that, then Seved would be able to shoot him.

  It showed on Amina’s face that she did not like the idea. Why not just escape? Seved shook his head. Skabram would be demented when he discovered the boy was missing and he would take out his rage on Börje. And she didn’t want that, did she? But the big old-timer had always been kind to her. It wasn’t right to burn him alive.

  ‘He wasn’t so kind to Ejvor.’

  ‘That was Karats, I’m sure it was.’

  ‘But don’t you understand? He’ll kill Börje after we’ve gone.’

  ‘Serve him right.’

  Seved rubbed his thumb along the edge of his jacket sleeve where a ridge of frozen mucus had formed. He wanted to ask her why she had said that, but he knew why. She had every right to be angry with Börje. He was the one who had snatched her. She would never forget.

  ‘And he’ll kill me too, when I come back.’

  Mattias shut down his game.

  ‘Aren’t you coming with us?’

  ‘I’ll drive you into town. Then I’ll come back.’

  They looked anxious and he realised he would have to give them an explanation.

  ‘I’ve been away so long. Börje is all I’ve got.’

  It was big. So big the Passat dipped as it leaned against it. It had begun backing away from the car as soon as it saw them. After taking a couple of unsteady steps to one side it put its hands down in the snow and stood there on all fours, glaring at them. It was about a hundred metres away and Susso could not make out any facial features, but she noticed the skin on the immense body was grey and that its flesh was partially covered in black fur.

  Then suddenly it rushed towards them. Although its body was large and heavy, its footsteps were almost inaudible. The only indication it was coming closer was the sound of its panting.

  Mona had already run out onto the ice beside the jetty and her partner had done the same. They collided with each other and he almost lost his footing.

  Susso dropped the briefcase but stopped and lurched backwards. Bending down she clasped her fingers round the leather handle.

  She ran with the case clutched to her chest, not out onto the jetty but further along the track. She shouted to Gudrun, who was hopping about with her arms spread wide like the wings of a penguin, clearly unsure what to do.

  ‘Run, Mum!’

  The trail sloped uphill before coming to an end at a rocky outcrop. Beyond that was a rotting steamboat jetty and then only pine forest on the other side of the ice. She heard a shriek behind her.

  The rocks looked slithery so she ran straight out onto the ice, where she fell and hit her elbow hard. When she was up on her feet again she ran as fast as she could on the furrowed snow. It was hard work running with the briefcase in her arms, but she dared not slow down to open it.

  There was a small island out in the middle of the frozen lake and she aimed for that, without really knowing why. She would never make it to the far side. It looked at least a kilometre away.

  The fear gave her no extra strength. Instead she felt paralysed, but she forced her legs to move. Time and again she altered her grip on the case, first holding it by the handle, then bringing it up into her arms again. It was easiest like that, anyway.

  By now she was so close to the little island that she was running in the shadow of the trees.

  Behind her she heard a howl. It was no human sound. Instinctively she tried to look over her shoulder without slowing down, but that made her lose her balance and she fell. She scrambled quickly up onto her feet again and staggered a few paces backwards to see what was going on behind her. Torbjörn had already made his way to the other side of the bay. He was doubled over, his hands on his knees. Behind him Gudrun ran in shorter steps, her coat flapping. They were small dots in the distance but it looked as if they were safe.

  The troll had stopped some distance from the shore. It had picked up Mona’s partner and was holding him above its head on outstretched arms. A few metres away from them a dark, immobile bundle lay beside a patch of reeds. It was Mona. It did not look as if the man was struggling to get free. He was hanging in mid-air and may have lost consciousness.

  A moment later the troll slammed him hard onto the ice.

  Susso turned round, took the last few strides to the shore and dropped to her knees. She was utterly drained. She gasped for air. The briefcase lay in front of her on the snow. She grimaced in pain as she pressed the locks open.

  How long did she have?

  Sixty seconds? Thirty?

  She tore open the plastic bag and groped around for the small revolver. Her hands were shaking and her nose was running like a tap. When she wiped it she noticed a red streak along her finger. She located the lever, pressed it hard with her thumb and the six-holed cylinder swung out.

  How far away was it?

  Should she stop to check?

  No, not yet. Load first.

  She thrust her hand into the plastic bag and found a cold cartridge and with shaking fingers inserted it into one of the chambers. A drop of blood from her nose landed on her hand and another on her sleeve before she managed to snap the cylinder closed.

  Kneeling and holding the revolver with both hands she quickly turned round.

  The troll was less than twenty metres away. But curiously enough it had stopped.

  It was standing on its hind legs, its arms dangling by its sides. The hair on its sagging chest and heavy stomach was sparse and its skin was mottled with grey and cracked. The small eyes were set deep between the coarse creases in its thick-skinned forehead and the bridge of its nose, which protruded like a massive joist in its wrinkled, melancholy face. Its lower lip hung open and strings of saliva dangled in the wind.

  The blood was streaming from Susso’s nostrils now and the strong taste of iron filled her mouth. She spat weakly, wiped her nose and chin with the palm of her hand and sniffed.

  Why was it standing there?

  Then she noticed that its eyes were directed at something in the snow
.

  Something small and grey. The squirrel.

  The little animal had positioned itself between her and the troll. It was standing on all fours with its legs wide apart, and its upright tail was jerking spasmodically, as if it was trying to work itself free from the body.

  She was aware of the headache, the flashing lights in her skull. That would explain the nosebleed.

  The troll took a step to one side, perhaps in an attempt to walk around the squirrel. But the animal was having none of it. In a flash it followed the troll, its gaze like a rod holding the beast at a distance.

  He’s protecting me, she thought. Protecting me.

  And from nowhere a word came into her head: beschermen.

  At a distance she saw Gudrun running over the ice towards her, with Torbjörn following behind. He was holding his phone in his outstretched hand.

  Susso wanted to yell at them to stay where they were but she stopped herself, fearing the troll would spin round and turn on them instead.

  At least for the moment she and the squirrel were keeping it at bay.

  But for how long?

  Had anyone seen what was happening out here on the ice?

  Had Torbjörn or Gudrun phoned the police? It was possible, but how long would it take before help arrived? Too long.

  Susso swallowed. When she lifted her right hand from the revolver to wipe her nose she found her skin had stuck to the barrel. She licked her lips, coughed and took a deep breath.

  The squirrel was tense. She could see its hind legs trembling. Was it difficult for it to keep up the resistance? How long could it continue?

  Should she just sit here?

  She grabbed the bag and picked out a few cartridges. They were like ice in her hands. When she had filled the cylinder she slowly got to her feet and backed up a few steps. Her legs were shaking. The troll did not appear to notice. It was standing still, its head hanging, staring at the little animal.

  Susso began walking around the squirrel in a semicircle, tentatively and with the revolver in both hands, thinking she could perhaps get past and continue towards land without the troll noticing.