Wraithsong

by E. J. Squires

  * * *

  “Can I draw you up a nice Epsom salt bath and get you something to drink?” Anthony asks once we get home.

  “Yes, please, that sounds awesome,” I say.

  “You know, for your first time, you did really well in the self-defense lesson. Your ballet training comes in handy as you’re very flexible and you have the best balance of anyone I’ve ever met. We just need to work on your strength,” he says.

  “Thanks. A bath and a smoothie sound nice, so I can build my strength.”

  Anthony laughs. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he says.

  I roll my eyes. Either I want to punch him or kiss him; there’s never an in-between.

  After soaking in a steaming hot Epsom salt and jojoba oil bath for about an hour, though I’m still tired, my body feels refreshed.

  “So how do we get in touch with the Lightálfars?” I ask, coming down with my hair twisted up in a towel.

  “I have one lead, but it’s weak,” Anthony says, looking up from his laptop. He smirks and raises an eyebrow when he sees me.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” Anthony says.

  “What, you don’t like my hair pulled up in a towel?”

  “You mean your turban? You almost look like the fruit lady who has all the produce on her head.” He keeps smiling.

  “Is that a bad thing?” I sit down next to him at the kitchen table, placing my elbows on the table. I’m tired and not really in the mood for his jokes.

  “Nope, just eccentric,” he says with a light laugh.

  I decide to let it go, as there’s no use in arguing with him. “So, Lightálfars?” I say.

  “Oh, yes, I almost forgot since your Arabian turbanado threw me off.”

  “Now you’re just being annoying,” I say, giving him a lethal look.

  “Oh, and you’re not?”

  I go to punch him in the arm, but he grabs my arm instead. I don’t know how he manages to get me down and pin me to the floor so quickly, and with such gentleness that I feel I have fallen onto a bed of roses.

  “What are you…?” I say, baffled.

  “Just checking to see if you learned anything in your lesson today. Apparently not enough.” His eyes rest in mine as he hovers above me, locking me down with his hands and legs.

  My turban has partially come undone and I try to grab it, but he holds my arms tight. My heart starts beating faster, and I can no longer deny that there’s some nearly magical force pulling us together. His face is so close to mine and I want to lift my head to kiss his lips. But, before I can act on it, he pulls me up to a standing position, picks up my towel, and hands it to me.

  “Hair all dry?” he asks casually.

  I notice that I desperately need to exhale. “Ah, yes,” I say, still wondering exactly what just transpired.

  “Come check this out.” He sits down at the table as if nothing happened and turns his laptop screen so I can see it.

  With my heart still racing, I sit down next to him to look at the screen. “What is Alfablot?” I ask.

  “It means ‘sacrifice to the elves.’ In Norse mythology, one could sacrifice to the elves to either get healed from some malady or to summon the elves to you. I want to try to use the same method to contact them.”

  “What kind of sacrifice are we talking about?” I ask, thinking it sounds dark.

  “The blood of a bull painted around a feast that’s meant as an offering to the Lightálfars,” Anthony says.

  I make a face. “That sounds gross! Isn’t there an easier way to get hold of them?”

  “What? Do you mean we should try to find their cell phone number?” Anthony asks.

  I don’t know whether he’s teasing me again or being serious. “Ha, ha,” I say.

  “No, I mean it. Don’t you think that if we as Huldras have access to technology the Lightálfars would, too?” Anthony says.

  “Yeah, but it’s not like we can look up their numbers online or anything…” I say.

  “Well, we can search the web and see. There might be some leads there.” Anthony types in ‘white elves,’ but none of the results are of much significance. He tries searching ‘Lightálfars,’ instead, and again, just a few general facts about light elves and Norse mythology.

  “What if you search for the Asatru religion? They might know something about it,” I say, remembering the name of the recently revived Viking religion.

  “There’s the Asatru Association.” He continues to read in silence for a while. “Here’s a little blurb about feast days.” He clicks on it and reads on. “There’s something about blot here, meaning ‘sacrifice to Balder,’ and something about a high feast, but it’s not until June twenty-first and it will be too late by then.”

  “Let’s call them, maybe they have some leads,” I say.

  He nods. “Looks like they’re in Arizona.” He picks up his cell phone from the table and dials the number from the website. “Hello? Hi, I would like to talk to a representative about the Lightálfars.”

  I desperately hope it leads to some information about the Lightálfars because I get the distinct impression that we need them on our side to have any chance of winning.

  “Hello, are you there?” Anthony says. “Yes, Lightálfars.” He runs over to the kitchen drawer, pulls out a pen and yellow sticky notes and writes something down. “Thank you so much, I appreciate it.” He hangs up the phone.

  “So?” I ask.

  “They say they don’t have any information there, but he gave me the number to someone named Skuld.” He dials the number right away. “Yes, hello, is this Skuld?” He pauses and listens. “My name is Anthony Jensen. I got your contact information from Ragnar at the Asatru Association. I’m looking to meet and do an interview with someone who knows about the Lightálfars.” He pauses to listen. “No, it’s not for publication or anything, just for…my own use.” He listens for a while. “I’m trying to track down someone who’s associated with Lightálfars. Can you help me with that?” Anthony looks at me, appearing frustrated. “Please, it’s a matter of life and death. I can fly out and be there tomorrow morning. Can you help me?”

  “Tell him you’re a Huldu,” I whisper.

  “I have reason to believe I am a Huldu,” Anthony says. “Hello? Hello? Are you there? The code of virtues?” He listens. “Oh, yeah, in Huldu school, they taught me that the codes are courage, uh…truth, honor, fidelity, discipline, hmm…hospitality, industriousness, self-reliance and, uh, what was the last one…? Oh, perseverance.” He pauses again. “The first charge? Let me see if I remember…to remain honest and faithful in love and devoted to the tried and true friend.”

  I’m impressed.

  “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Anthony is writing fervently, an address it looks like. “Thank you so much, and I look forward to meeting you.” He hangs up the phone.

  I look at him intently, but when he doesn’t say anything, I have to ask. “So…? What did he say?”

  “It was a woman,” Anthony says.

  “Okay, what did she say?”

  Anthony tears off the sticky note and holds it up. “I’m meeting with her tomorrow in Arizona.”

  “Is she a Lightálfar?”

  Anthony’s eyes squint. “That’s what she said.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Anthony hesitates. “It’s the last day of school and I think it would be best if one of us goes to school, don’t you think?”

  School is the farthest thing from my mind right now. “I’m assuming that by saying one of us, you mean me?” If I’ll be waiting around to save my mom, I might as well go to school.

  “You choose,” he says, folding his arms in front of his chest.

  I’m not prepared to travel to Arizona alone to meet with a Lightálfar. I still don’t know enough about Huldras or my heritage to be useful, so the choice is clear. “All right, but keep me posted. I want to hear all about the Arizona trip as soon as you get back.”

  �
��Of course,” Anthony says. “I’ll probably be back before you’re out of school, if I can catch an early flight.