Fire, page 37
Anna-Karin allows the fox to pad away towards the bushes to chase his supper.
Linnéa feels that a heart attack is a certainty. Her heart cannot possibly keep beating at this rate for very much longer. She presses herself against the bridge support, covers her mouth with both hands and tries to breathe as quietly as she can although her body is screaming for oxygen.
The only sound is the faint slapping of canal water. She can no longer hear Erik and Robin’s thoughts and has no strength left to try to tune them in. All her energy is going into staying upright.
Above her head, the green-painted metal of the bridge swoops over the canal. Across the water, the lights of the manor house are gleaming through the mist.
Perhaps she should try to get there. Seek protection in the enemy camp.
Canal Bridge is illuminated, but the mist is growing denser. She must risk it. Linnéa’s whole body is shaking now. She is afraid of fainting. If they find her here, she hasn’t a hope.
She looks around one last time and concentrates on listening into the darkness. Then she allows herself a few deep breaths and starts clambering up the slope. Thin branches scratch her face as she makes her way through the bushes. The ground is wet and slippery under her ankle boots. It smells of damp earth.
Linnéa’s arms are trembling with the strain as she hauls herself up the last bit. She straightens up on shaky legs, stands bent forward in the poison-yellow light of the street lamps. Then she runs out on the bridge, into the bright light.
She knows that she has reached the top of the arch when the slight rise flattens out. Halfway. She must make it. Must.
Caught! She’s so fucking caught!
Linnéa stops abruptly when she hears the thought in her head. She turns and sees through the mist the outline of a guy walking towards her. Holding a baseball bat.
So fucking caught!
She turns again and sees another shape materialising out of the haze on the other side of the bridge. Robin. She can hear his breathing in the distance, but he isn’t running any more. He is walking, as calmly as Erik. They aren’t bothered now, certain that she can’t get away from them.
Their staring eyes gleam from the eye-holes in their balaclavas. The fuckers. The cowardly fuckers. She won’t show them how afraid she is.
‘Hi there, Linnéa,’ Erik says.
‘Fuck off,’ she says.
He laughs a little, lets the baseball bat drag on the ground as he walks. It rattles heavily against the tarmac, jumps and bounces over the uneven bits.
‘This wasn’t the idea from the start,’ he says. ‘You weren’t supposed to come home that early. We thought whores like you worked all night. But it’s fine by us. This is even better.’ They stop and stand on either side of her. Linnéa tries to run across the bridge. But Robin gets hold of her. Grabbing both her arms, he drags her towards Erik who waits calmly by the railing of the bridge.
‘Fuck’s sake, Linnéa, you’re so boring,’ he says. ‘I thought you’d like a good time.’
Linnéa yells when Erik tugs at her fringe. The pain makes her eyes fill with tears. He bends her neck back and looks into her eyes.
‘Aren’t you frightened?’
‘No,’ she says.
She doesn’t want to scream, but when he pulls her hair again the pain is too sharp. Suddenly, she hears Robin’s thoughts perfectly clearly.
Let this be over, just let it stop, let it stop …
‘Robin, please let me go,’ Linnéa whispers hoarsely. ‘Let go of me, please, Robin …’
She hates herself for pleading and begging. But Robin hesitates. Erik sees it, too.
He raises the baseball bat.
‘Jump in,’ he says and nods his head towards the railing of the bridge.
A white flash of lightning cuts through Anna-Karin’s dream and she sits up in bed.
She is with the fox again. He is running along the canal with all his attention focused on the bridge. Three human shapes are standing on the top of the bridge, strongly lit but still unrecognisable in the mist. The fox’s ears record their voices.
‘Jump,’ one of them says and Anna-Karin instantly recognises Erik’s voice. ‘Or we’ll throw you in.’
‘Come on, I mean, seriously,’ says another voice.
Robin’s.
‘Come on, I mean, seriously,’ Erik imitates him. ‘Be a man, you wimp. You hate this slag as much as I do.’
‘Let me go, Robin, please, Robin,’ Linnéa begs.
Linnéa.
Anna-Karin leaps out of bed. Police. Make an emergency call. Must stop this. She gets hold of her mobile but holds back in mid-movement. What if they trace the call? How can she explain that she can see what is happening so far away? Perhaps they won’t believe a word she says?
‘You heard me. Jump,’ Erik says. ‘I thought all you psychos wanted to kill yourselves anyway. Here’s your chance.’
He swings some heavy object through the air and Linnéa screams.
Anna-Karin pulls on a pair of jeans under her pyjama top and runs into the hall, pushes her feet into a pair of worn trainers, while Erik pulls Linnéa out of Robin’s grip and presses her up against the railing.
‘Someone should fuck you first but we don’t fancy catching Aids.’
Anna-Karin can’t see what he does, but Linnéa screams again.
‘I’ll jump. I’ll do it.’
‘Fuck’s sake, Erik …’ Robin says.
Help her, Robin, Anna-Karin thinks. Why don’t you help her!
She runs out on the square. The lights are on in the Positive Engelsfors place, but she can’t see anyone inside. The telephone box is just around the corner. She grabs the receiver.
Part of her is not there, but watching by the canal. She has to blink several times before she can see the buttons well enough to dial.
Linnéa is sobbing, but she swings one leg across the railing and sits astride it.
‘Please …’
Linnéa’s eyes are fixed on Robin, but he looks the other way.
‘Just do it,’ he says hoarsely.
‘That’s right. Just do it, Linnéa,’ Erik says.
Linnéa swings her other leg over the railing. Now she stands on the very edge of the bridge, holding on to the railing.
A female voice says, ‘Emergency Services’ in the receiver and Anna-Karin nearly shouts the words.
‘You must send someone to Canal Bridge in Engelsfors! Erik Forslund and Robin Zetterqvist … they’re trying to kill Linnéa Wallin!’
Linnéa looks down at the black water. If she survives the fall, the cold will get her anyway. She looks up at Erik and Robin. She hates them and hates the thought that these two are her last sight in life. Still, she forces herself to meet their eyes.
And then she jumps.
She falls. Falls and falls, hoping that Elias will be there for her on the other side.
Her only regret is that she never told Vanessa what she feels for her.
Why did that scare me so much? she thinks.
When Linnéa finally hits the water, the cold is such a shock that it knocks out all thought. And then she disappears under the surface, into the dark, silent depths.
52
Vanessa is dreaming and she knows it. But still the dream feels utterly real.
She is trying to find Linnéa’s block of flats, but wanders lost along streets she doesn’t recognise. She tries to phone Linnéa, or one of the other Chosen Ones. Even Wille. But all the numbers are wiped off her mobile list and she can’t remember a single one.
And something makes the ground shake.
As if some force deep underneath is trying to find a way up. Crushing layers of rock, breaking through the tarmac.
Vanessa wakes. Her mobile is vibrating on the floor beside her bed. She reaches out for it.
‘Hello,’ she says, her voice thick with sleep.
‘Something has happened,’ Anna-Karin says.
Vanessa can see the blue lights through the mist. They are blinking silently near Canal Bridge. People are milling around everywhere. All in uniform. Firefighters. Police. Paramedics. Beams from powerful torches slice through the dark along the banks and a large searchlight on the bridge is scanning the water.
Vanessa speeds up her run when she spots Minoo and Anna-Karin on the footpath.
‘Where is she?’ she asks as soon as she comes within speaking distance.
‘We don’t know,’ Anna-Karin replies quietly.
Minoo only shakes her head.
‘I’ve tried to pick up her energy,’ Anna-Karin continues. ‘But I can’t … locate her.’
‘Ida, what about her? Where is Ida?’ Vanessa says. ‘Perhaps she can—’
‘Her mobile’s off,’ Minoo interrupts. ‘We’ve tried to get hold of her, but—’
‘Try her again!’
‘No point,’ Minoo says but makes the call anyway. She puts her mobile down almost at once. ‘I just get her voicemail.’
Vanessa shuts her eyes. Changes her mind’s setting until she can sense the energies of the others. It works well. She registers Anna-Karin and Minoo clearly, but she can’t find any trace of Linnéa in the night that surrounds them.
Among them all, Linnéa was the one she found most easily during their training sessions.
If she can’t register her, then Linnéa is nowhere near.
Or else, only her body remains.
Vanessa opens her eyes. She attempts to force the fantasies out of her mind, images of Linnéa’s pale face, her skin tinged with blue, her black hair waving in currents deep below the surface.
She must be strong. For Linnéa’s sake. As long as there is a chance left she must not allow herself to break down.
If Linnéa has managed to haul herself out of the canal, she will be soaked and frozen. They have to find her. Find her now.
Vanessa looks towards the bridge. Nicke is not in sight. But close by the police car, a dark-haired, uniformed woman is standing guard. Paula.
‘What do they know?’ Vanessa asks. ‘Have you talked to them?’
‘No, we can’t really tell them that we know because a fox saw it,’ Minoo says. ‘Anna-Karin made an anonymous call. Just named Linnéa and told them that she was forced to jump in. And that it was Erik and Robin who … who made her.’
Vanessa almost vomits at the sound of their names.
‘I want to kill them,’ she says bleakly. ‘I will kill them.’
Minoo doesn’t reply. She seems to hesitate, just for a moment. Then she puts her arms around Vanessa.
Vanessa reacts instantly. She sobs. The desire to let it all pour out is almost irresistible and she twists herself free.
‘I mustn’t,’ she says. ‘I mustn’t … you see, it feels as if Linnéa really is dead … if I let go.’
She falls silent.
‘I understand,’ Minoo says.
Vanessa checks the police car again.
‘Wait here,’ she says and runs off before the others have time to say anything.
Paula catches sight of her, but doesn’t seem to know who she is.
‘Have you found her?’ Vanessa asks.
‘Was it you who raised the alarm?’
‘No. I was just told … a girl had ended up in the canal. Is there any chance that she …?’
Vanessa can’t formulate the rest of her question.
‘We’re waiting for the divers. The fire brigade is sending a team, but it will be some time before it gets here,’ Paula says. ‘And we’re looking for her on land as well. Hopefully she’s managed to get up on the bank somewhere. We haven’t given up hope.’
But Paula’s tone of voice belies her words. And Vanessa looks down at the canal. On the black, cold water far down there.
She wants to scream. Scream until this nightmare has been ripped apart and she is back in reality, a reality which encompasses a living Linnéa, safe and sound.
Because that’s what it is, right? It has to be a nightmare. Linnéa is fine, she must be. She must.
After all they have been through together, it simply can’t be Erik Forslund and Robin Zetterqvist who …
Vanessa walks away. Concentrates on counting her steps, one at a time, so she won’t collapse.
‘What did they say?’ Minoo asks when she is back with them.
Vanessa can’t reply. That scream is growing stronger inside her, tries to force its way up through her throat.
Her mobile rings inside her jacket pocket. She pulls it out.
Unknown number.
‘Hello?’ Vanessa says.
Time stretches into an eternal instant.
‘It’s me,’ Linnéa says.
Vanessa can’t utter a word.
‘Hello? Vanessa?’
‘Where are you?’ she manages to make herself say at last.
‘I’ve just come back home.’
Vanessa can’t hold her tears back now.
‘I thought you …’ she sobs. ‘I thought you …’
Minoo tugs at her jacket.
‘Is it her?’ she whispers and Vanessa nods.
‘How do you …’ Linnéa begins to say.
‘Anna-Karin’s fox saw what happened,’ Vanessa says. ‘Everyone is mobilised now, they’re looking for you. I’m so unbelievably hugely glad you’re alive. I …’ She bursts into tears again, crying so hard she has to crouch. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘Yes, I am,’ Linnéa says and her voice sounds shaky. ‘I’m fine. Vanessa … Forgive me. I didn’t know that you knew, that anyone knew. I should’ve phoned straight away, but …’
Vanessa can’t talk any more, she is crying too much. She hands the phone to Minoo, who carries on speaking with Linnéa.
Linnéa is alive. She is alive.
53
Linnéa hands Viktor his mobile and walks ahead of him into her flat.
First, the hall, where broken glass crunches under her feet, then the living room. She looks around.
The torn-down images rustle in the draught from the broken windows. The cross that Elias gave her is broken in two and the black china panther has ended up on the floor with its head cracked. She walks into the bedroom. The mattress has been tipped on to the floor, her clothes have been torn out of the wardrobe and scattered everywhere. Someone must have stamped on the laptop that was a gift from Ulf and Tina. The sewing machine has been opened up and systematically dismantled. And the contents of her memory boxes are spread all over the floor. Pictures, letters, mementos. Her entire past has been turned inside out. Rummaged in. Torn. Ruined.
But she is alive.
As she was sinking through the black water, something happened.
At first, with spasms in arms and legs, she was swept along by the currents below the surface. Her body struggled to survive and the breathing reflex grew so strong that it would soon open her mouth and pull water into her lungs.
But instead something new awoke inside her.
Linnéa had tried to influence water before, to make it freeze or evaporate. It never worked. But down there in the canal, the energy started to stream out from her body and form a protective, warming shell around her. Like a kind of magic wetsuit. Suddenly, she was able to kick out with her legs. Her arms made breaststrokes, she seemed to be sucked upwards, as if she was buoyant like a cork, made not to sink.
When she broke through the surface and inhaled the cold night air, endorphins poured into her circulation. Then the cold settled over her face like a mask of ice.
Somehow, she got up on the bank. Coughed until she threw up. Every breath felt like icy needles piercing her lungs.
She crawled up the steep slope, her water-filled, heavy boots slipping on the wet mud and her stiff, cold fingers clawing to find purchase. And then, finally, she collapsed in a heap on the tarmac footpath.
It was Viktor’s thought that returned her to consciousness.
Linnéa? What has happened?
Linnéa opened her eyes and couldn’t make sense of the world as she saw it. She was lying on her side and her field of vision included only tarmac and a pair of legs in dark trousers, seen from a completely wrong angle.
Viktor bent over her, wrapped her in his coat and took her ice-cold hands in his. She could feel his magic streaming into her. It turned the water in her clothes and hair into vapour that rose around them. She was drying so fast she could watch it happen.
Come along.
He helped her up and half dragged, half carried her to his car which was parked in front of the manor house. She sank into the passenger seat, he shut the doors and turned the heater setting into the widest red band on the scale.
Linnéa pulled his coat closer around her. Slowly, her body relaxed and with relaxation came a deeply soothing tiredness.
What happened? Viktor asked inside her head.
They forced me to jump in, she replied, amazed at how easy it was to communicate like this.
Forced you? Who were they?
‘Erik Forslund. Robin Zetterqvist.’
She almost slurred. Watched as Viktor pulled out his mobile. Then she sat up and made herself come awake.
‘Don’t call the police,’ she said.
‘Of course we must.’
‘I can promise you, here and now, these guys will have alibis. I heard their thoughts. Erik would never have risked doing it if he hadn’t made sure that he wouldn’t get caught. In the end, it will be my word against theirs.’
Viktor looked thoughtfully at her.
‘You must know who the police tend to believe,’ Linnéa went on. ‘Hardly ever people like me, not in this town anyway.’
He put his mobile away.
‘Why did they do it?’
‘They’ve hated me for ever,’ Linnéa said. ‘They hate everyone who’s different. Only, now they have a whole organisation supporting them. I’m quite certain they did what they did because someone had told them to. But the plan probably wasn’t meant to go this far.’
‘Whose idea do you think it was?’
‘I don’t want to discuss that.’
Viktor was drumming with his fingers against the steering wheel.
‘I shall have to ask Alexander if I really can omit calling the police,’ he said. ‘Still, I have a feeling he won’t object. The Council’s official position is, whenever possible, to avoid confrontations with the non-magic community.’
