by Stefan Spjut
The worry that Skabram would return had kept Seved awake most of the night. It was the chain he was mainly concerned about. What if the old troll decided to go in that way for some reason? The hatch was bolted from the inside, so he would not be able to get in while there was no one inside the hide to open it for him. Even if he knew Karats was not waiting for him it must still be something he desperately desired—so desperately perhaps that he let himself be controlled by his desire. Besides, Seved had no idea what went on in the big troll’s head. Rage had driven him to shapeshift, but what had triggered the rage? Was it as if someone had suddenly ripped a tooth from his jaw? Did he know Karats was dead or had he only felt the pain of it?
Börje was in the dog compound, crouching down and patting the Lapphund cross, digging his fingers into the thick, curly coat on its neck and murmuring a stream of questions one after the other.
Seved opened the shaky gate and stepped in.
‘They’ve crapped on the car,’ he said, holding out his hand so the little Laika could come forwards to sniff it. It ran its rough tongue over his little finger, making it wet and warm.
‘Better that than tipping it over,’ Börje said.
They sat back to back, stroking the dogs.
‘Has he come home?’
Börje shook his head, sniffing the mucus back into his nose.
‘But Lennart will be here tomorrow, you’ll see.’
‘Has he given up on that now?’
‘What?’
‘Hunting down that girl Myrén.’
‘Oh no. He’ll never do that.’
He stood for a few moments in Hybblet’s kitchen, waiting for something to flit past the corner of his eye, but it was totally still. In the pallid daylight he saw how filthy the floor was.
He imagined most of them were down in the hide but he certainly did not want to go there, so he walked upstairs instead. In one of the lofts he found a solitary batshifter hanging with its claws attached to the edge of a sheet of plywood. It was old and grey and had a tiny, compressed, dog-like head. The sight of it would probably scare the boy, so he left it alone.
When he came down from the loft a mouse was sitting on a chair, looking at him. It was a birch mouse and he thought it was one of the shapeshifters Torsten had given them to bring back. Seved squatted down and chatted kindly to the creature until it was brave enough to walk up to his outstretched hand.
He allowed the mouse to crawl onto his hand and get used to him before carefully putting it into his jacket pocket, where it scratched around for a while and then settled down.
Mattias was sitting on the bed playing a video game. He was frenetically tapping the buttons on the controller. Seved stood with his hands in his pockets, looking at him.
‘Are you winning?’
The boy was engrossed in the game and did not answer.
‘Look,’ Seved said. ‘I’ve got a new mouse for you.’
He took out the creature and released it onto the bed. It scrabbled against the duvet cover and almost disappeared among the billowing folds.
The boy put down the controller. It looked as if he had forgotten about the game.
Mona had been staying the night with friends in Sundbyberg and early the next morning she phoned to ask if they could all meet up in the hospital cafeteria.
They went directly after breakfast.
The squirrel lay in the front pocket of Susso’s jacket like a hot-water bottle and it made her feel more secure than the weapon she was carrying. During the night the little animal had sat immobile, watching the lights from the trains as they swayed past immediately outside the window.
Now it was sleeping soundly—or at least, it was completely still.
On the table in front of Mona was a coffee cup and a plate with a cake still in its cellophane wrapper. The coffee looked cold. Subdued and seldom looking them in the eye, she told them she was in two minds about finding the Skarf family. She knew, of course, that the chance of them being involved in Magnus’s disappearance was very small, and the chance that he was still with them even smaller, but, oddly enough, the thought of seeing him again filled her with mixed emotions. She was worried about what it would do to her. How it would affect her.
He had been gone half her life and she had become used to the hole he had left. She had grown around it. And however it turned out she would never get him back. She would be fooling herself to think otherwise. All she knew of him was the way he had been back then.
‘A little boy. The most wonderful little boy in the world.’
Now he would be a man and they would be strangers to each other. There was no guarantee he would even remember her. And what if it all went wrong between them!
Then he would be gone for ever and she was afraid all the precious memories she had of him would be tainted.
She dreaded the thought of it.
‘You’d think this was something I longed for, after all these years,’ she said. ‘Getting him back. But now that the opportunity has come I don’t know what I want. I’m ashamed to admit it.’
Gudrun shook her head.
‘No need to be.’
Susso agreed, muttering something about it being only natural to think like that. What Mona had gone through was so awful that she could think of nothing helpful to say. She thought about Carina Mickelsson and Edit and wondered whether she should mention them, but was not sure if it was suitable to move the focus from Magnus at a time like this.
‘Have you seen the films of the tsunami?’ Mona asked. ‘From Thailand?’
They nodded.
‘There were children on those beaches,’ Mona said. ‘Little children. The wave came in and took them, as if it was collecting them. I think it was the same with Magnus. The person who took him was like that flood wave, the same kind of indifferent force.’
She moved her fingers across the surface of the table to show how the wave had swept in.
‘It has been explained to me that my shock formed an image of the person who took him,’ she went on. ‘That the pain inside me took on a physical shape, the shape of a giant. And in the end you believe it was like that because it’s the only reasonable explanation. And it wasn’t only the giant. The day Magnus disappeared I saw a fox and a hare as well outside the cabin. Perhaps you know about that?’
‘Yes, Barbro said Sven had told her.’
Mona shook her head and gave a half smile.
‘Do you know, I thought I dreamt that he phoned. Uncle Sven! It was so unreal, that he of all people should phone. When I told people about it afterwards they said I must have imagined it just because he was so kind to children. Perhaps I thought he would care about Magnus and would help him, which was why I dreamt it. But he did ring, didn’t he? He really did?’
Gudrun nodded.
‘He did want to help. That was exactly what he wanted. It wasn’t a dream.’
‘How strange,’ Mona said. ‘It all feels so strange.’
‘Yes,’ said Gudrun. ‘You can imagine how surprised we were when it turned out he was involved in all this. And John Bauer too.’
‘So those animals were real. And the bat too.’
Torbjörn looked up but he said nothing. He only looked at Susso, passing the question on to her.
‘What bat?’ she asked.
‘I killed a bat,’ Mona said. ‘By mistake. And then, after we had been shopping, we found it in the fridge. I thought someone was playing a trick on us. But I have wondered about that since, whether it was a kind of message, and if that was why the giant took Magnus. In exchange, or something. Perhaps it was his bat I killed, because it had a little ring in its ear.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Gudrun said. ‘I expect they took Magnus because they wanted him. They wanted to have a child, a human child. It seems to be something these stallo folk do.’
‘And those animals I saw, were they like the bear, do you think?’ Susso nodded.
‘That’s the secret,’ she said. ‘They are animals. And
that is why they are so hard to find.’
‘The bat as well?’
‘Presumably.’
Without thinking, she had put her hand on her stomach. She wondered whether she should show Mona the squirrel but decided to wait for another occasion. She did not want to wake the animal and it felt wrong to open her pocket while it was sleeping. And after all, they were in a hospital. It would cause quite a stir if someone discovered she had smuggled in an animal—a rat, more or less.
By now Mona had broken open the cellophane around the cake and gone back in time. She told them what it been like for her afterwards. How furious she had been with the police.
‘A giant can’t hide himself very easily, but they didn’t want to listen to any of that. It was as if their minds were made up, and eventually they didn’t listen to anything I had to say. To be treated like that . . . in the end you doubt yourself, your own sanity, and there is nothing worse. I began to wonder if I really had seen what I thought I had seen. And then I got a letter from the prosecutor, I think that’s who it was, where it said ‘Mona Bodin’. Bodin! How would they ever be able to find Magnus if they couldn’t even get his name right!’
She dipped her cake in the coffee cup so forcefully it struck the bottom. She let it drip before putting it down on a napkin.
‘They needed help checking the details and everything, so they were in touch quite often, and every time I went from hope to despair. Once they came to my house and showed me a pair of underpants they had found under some trees and I had to tell them if they were Magnus’s underpants. You can imagine what that felt like. And another time they phoned to ask if Magnus had any holes in his teeth, because they had found a body. Just like that! He was four years old. Do four-year-olds usually have holes in their teeth?’
She shook her head.
‘Of course, I know they have to do the job their way and they can’t always be wrapping things up in nice words, but they were so horribly insensitive. And there was no one to talk to. All that about counselling and support and so on—that only came later. There was nothing like that then. I was completely alone.’
‘What about now?’ Gudrun asked. ‘What would you like to do now?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘As we said, we are going to try and find those people. See what kind of people they are. It might not lead to anything but you’re welcome to come with us.’
‘I think I’ll stay, what with Klas and everything . . .’
Gudrun stood up.
‘We’ll keep in touch,’ she said, giving Mona a brief hug. ‘As soon as we have spoken to those Skarf people we’ll let you know. Then we’ll take it from there.’
Seved was lying in bed fully dressed, and he could hardly breathe. His nervousness manifested itself in long waves of nausea that radiated from somewhere below his ribs. His body told him to wait, to stay where he was and stare at the wall looming over his bed, and let the night pass. This night like every other night.
He was hoping to make it back before Börje woke up so that he would have time to talk to him in peace and quiet. It was impossible to say what would happen after that, but he vaguely thought they could move somewhere. He did not know where but he had a wad of 100,000- and 50,000-kronor notes in his jacket pocket, and he guessed Börje also had some money stashed away. It might take them a while but eventually the police would be able to work out where Amina and Mattias had been staying.
He doubted he had the courage to tell Börje the truth, so he had a story prepared at the back of his mind: that Signe must have taken the car and escaped with the boy. Once, Börje had sat beside her in the Volvo and shown her how the gears worked and which pedal to use to brake and which to accelerate. The engine had roared and cut out alternately as she searched for the right gear. So in a way it would be his own fault. He had given her the knowledge she needed to get away, and maybe, Seved thought, maybe that was just what Börje wanted. He was the one who had snatched her, and as far as he could tell that act had tormented him for many years. Was it so strange, then, that he wanted to let her go?
The television droned softly on the upstairs landing and it was almost 2 a.m. before it fell silent. The remote thudded onto the coffee table. A glass knocked against a plate and the sofa springs groaned. The floorboards creaked and then the stairs. There was the sound of running water in the handbasin, the flush of the toilet. Then, with heavy steps, he came upstairs again. It would not be long before he fell asleep. Seved listened carefully but instead of Börje’s heavy breathing he heard the front door close.
Someone had come into the house. He lay there anxiously, listening. He had made sure the door was locked, so it could only be one person.
Fully dressed in their outdoor clothes, complete with hats and scarves, Amina and Mattias stood squashed together in the small entrance hall, alert and wide-eyed with fear as he came stealthily down the stairs.
‘Shit!’ he hissed as he shoved them into the kitchen and shut the door behind him. ‘I was going to come down to you! He isn’t asleep yet.’
‘We thought you had forgotten us,’ said Mattias.
Slowly Seved opened the door and listened in the direction of the staircase. If Börje had been awake, he would probably have heard the door by now and come down to see what was going on.
The boy pressed his mittens to his chest and Seved knew what was inside them. He was not sure how much the mouseshifter understood but he did not want it to realise they were doing something forbidden. It could very easily run off and tell the others, just to make mischief. So he said in as loud a voice as he dared:
‘Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat before we go?’
The key to the Isuzu would have to be hidden. Börje might be able to start the car anyway but that would take a long time—he would never be able to catch up with them.
A deep silence met them as they stepped out onto the veranda and hurried towards the Volvo. The sky was starry and it was bitterly cold. A low yelp came from the dog enclosure but as long as the dogs didn’t start barking too loudly there was no danger. The car windows were covered in a crystalline layer of frost but he would have to scrape it off later.
Seved unplugged the engine-heater cable and opened the back door. Mattias was allowed to jump in and sit down, but Amina had to help push.
‘You’ll have to push from the back,’ he said softly to Amina, who nodded. She was wearing Ejvor’s old knitted mittens and a woollen hat which was so loose she had to keep pushing it up her forehead.
He put the engine into neutral and with one hand on the wheel pushed the frozen car. Sluggishly it moved forwards, its tyres creaking in the dry snow. He changed his grip and grimaced. The Volvo rolled unwillingly.
Behind him he heard Amina mutter something.
‘It’ll get easier soon,’ he said over his shoulder.
But she went on muttering.
It was a while before Seved caught sight of it because it was small and its coat was as white as the snow. A weaselshifter. It was crouching on the rear of the car roof, watching the girl’s dark face with interest while also keeping an eye on its surroundings. No doubt it was the first time it had ever ridden on anything.
Releasing his grip and chasing the shifter away was not an option for Seved because then they would lose momentum. Instead he increased his speed, thinking that would make the weasel nervous and it would jump off. But it stayed where it was and rose up on its hind legs, looking around. Then it ran to the front and slid down the windscreen onto the bonnet.
In his eagerness to get the weasel off the bonnet Seved had not noticed that the car was moving of its own accord over the brow of the slope, and now everything was starting to go wrong. He had to make the car stop. As he pushed his elbows back against the doorframe and dug in his heels, he called to Amina to stop pushing. When he realised that was pointless he tried instead to leap onto the seat and grab the wheel, but tripped and almost fell.
The car rammed into the wall of p
loughed snow where the road went round a bend. The chassis squealed and the snow grated as the radiator grill slid along it, but otherwise it was a silent collision. The door was still open.
Panting, Seved and Amina stood looking at the rear of the car. It was shining faintly in the darkness. Neither of them said anything. After a second or two a back door opened and the boy climbed out slowly, his hands clasped to his chest.
The right front wheel had ridden up the ridge of snow but not too far for Seved to be able to reverse it out, he thought. It might wake Börje, but he had no choice. He glanced back at the house, sat down behind the wheel and put the key in the ignition.
As usual the Volvo spluttered a few times before starting. He put the engine in reverse and gently depressed the accelerator. The beam from the headlights struck the compacted snow and made it glow. They were on a slope, so he would have to accelerate quite hard, but not too much otherwise the wheels would skid, and it would be as slippery as glass beneath them. The car moved slowly but steadily backwards, and when the front wheels had noisily freed themselves from the snow and he had turned the wheel he waved to Amina and Mattias that they should leap into the car. They both sat in the back.
Seved bent over the wheel and tried to calm himself.
‘The weasel,’ he said to Amina. ‘Did you see where it went?’
She shook her head and he could hear her hat rubbing against the hood of her jacket.
‘That bloody weasel,’ he said. ‘I only hope it doesn’t tell.’
‘Who would it tell?’ she said quietly.
She was right. The hide was empty, of course, and it would hardly be able to get into the house and Börje’s bedroom. Even so, he could not shake off the anxiety. It had begun badly and that did not bode well.
The road to the barrier had never felt so long. It was as if it had found new bends in the forest. He dared not put the headlights on full beam, so he could see only a few metres ahead. In his thoughts he was still inside the house. Had Börje woken up by now? Was he running around looking for the keys to the Isuzu?
