

WRAITHSONG

By

E. J. SQUIRES

This is a work of fiction. All the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

Smashwords Edition, Jan. 2015

ISBN-13: 978-1492219903

ISBN-10: 1492219908

Copyright © 2014 E. J. Squires

All rights reserved.

Fans of the writings of Cassandra Clare, Claudia Gray, Kami Garcia, and Margaret Stohl have a new author to take notice of, E.J. Squires. Squires joins the ranks of these paranormal-romance greats head on with her thrilling new novel, Wraithsong. She perfectly weaves the old world and the new in her novel, so that readers never know what new creature they will be facing next. The action scenes the author has written are well thought out and exciting. The farther I read, the harder it was to put down, and I wasn't ready for it to end when I turned the last page.

~ Tania Staley—Goodreads User

As much as this story is about mythology and paranormal concepts it is also a coming of age story that young adults will recognize as the same changes that occur within everyone as they enter that frightening realm of adult life a time when anything can happen to alter the step into the new world. This is a well-written book that will appeal to a large audience of young adults, especially those who have followed such successes as the Twilight Series. Squires appears to have a bright career ahead.

~ Grady Harp—Hall of Fame Amazon Reviewer

At this point in time, I feel more than comfortable in saying that if I walked into a bookstore and saw this author's name on a book, I wouldn't even have to read the covers, I would buy it straight up. I have read enough to know that I will be pleased with what she writes. Anyone who is looking for a good romance, some Norse mythology and fantasy all mixed together, this is your book. Young and old alike, I even feel more than comfortable allowing my teenage daughter to read this book.

~ Michelle Lynn Randall—Professional Reviewer Reader's Choice

Wraithsong by E.J. Squires is an amazing story about a girl who, on top of being at a fragile age as a teenager, has to deal with secret powers that mess with her emotions and can either be her salvation or undoing. E.J. Squires' writing style and skill sets a tone and mood that perfectly fits the plot and the characters, each in their different way, bring this incredible story to life. The manner in which the story bounces between the contemporary setting and the fantasy world is done in such way that is very distinct and flawless, and adds to the excitement to give a thrilling reading experience. I totally enjoyed this page-turner and I cannot wait to pick up book II and see where the story goes from here.

Faridah Nassozi—Professional Reviewer Reader's Choice

I have read E.J. Squires debut novel Winter Solstice Winter before, and I immensely enjoyed it. When I learned about her new book, I had to make sure that I get a copy of this. Once again, I fell in love with her new book, Wraithsong - Desirable Creatures.

~ Arienne—a Bookworm Loose Blogspot

I'm not sure how to explain what I'm feeling at the moment without sounding like a young adult madly in love with a book, but I love everything about this! "Wraithsong", book 1 of Desirable Creatures is an action-packed YA fantasy book laced with humor; it's safe to say this is one of the best YA books this year. Characterization is very spot on, the plot itself is very interesting and I'd love to see it play on the big screen!

~Ella Larena—Goodreads User

Other books Available by E. J. Squires:

Blufire

Desirable Creatures Series, Book II

(Coming Feb. 2015)

Winter Solstice Winter

A Viking Blood Saga, Book I

Summer Solstice Summer

A Viking Blood Saga, Book II

Ragnarok Spring

A Viking Blood Saga, Book III

(Coming Soon)

Trepidation

White Witch Black Warlock Series, Book I

(Coming Soon)

For more information, go to:

http://ejsquires.com

Eve, mother of all living, labored and toiled long days and nights. One day, God came down and visited her. Embarrassed that she only had enough time to clean seven of her thirteen children, she hid the six soiled ones from him. God found them, and reprimanded Eve for having been ashamed of her own flesh and blood. "Those you have hidden from me..." God said, "...they will stand out from the rest of mankind. I will clean them for you so that all men and women will aspire to be that which you have cast aside. From this day forward, they will be known as the Huldra, meaning secret desire."

Chapter 1

The day is sunny and ridiculously humid, even for Florida. We get into the SUV and my mom secures her seat belt, turns the engine on, lowers the volume of Mr. Tchaikovsky—her favorite—and faces me.

"You have to be more careful, Sonia," she says with a look of utter disappointment if I've ever seen one: teeth clenched, glaring eyes, head cocked to one side, right eyebrow raised. It's a look I hate and will do almost anything in the world to avoid.

We just left the principle's office and it went a little something like this: I was blamed for the fight with Savannah even though she's the one who's been bullying me all year. Savannah didn't get any punishment at all—I think Principal Jenkins has a thing for her—even though I was the one who ended up with a bloody nose and the only thing I did was spit in her face. Anyway, so I was sentenced to ten hours of weeding the school's premises with a guy named Anthony (probably some plant geek), starting Monday. Not looking forward to it.

"I've already spoken to you about not letting your saliva come in contact with anyone else," my mom says angrily.

And she has. One day at lunch, I asked Lisa, a friend I had in third grade, if she'd share her brownie with me. She said no, but let me take a sip of her juice instead. After that, she gave me the brownie, and every day until she moved away two years later, she would bring me some kind of sweet treat to school. Finding it strange, I told my mom about it and she said I 'must never share my drinks with anyone' (same angry tone). That was also the week I got the no-kissing-until-I-turn-eighteen lecture from both of my parents.

Apparently, when my saliva comes in contact with a person, they'll do whatever I want them to—or something like that. My mom has the same ability as me, but she refuses to tell me exactly what it is or where the ability comes from. I'm starting to think we're just freaks of nature—unnatural and potentially dangerous misfits. And what's worse, lately, I find myself obsessing about how I can make others do what I want, even though I know deep inside that it's not the right thing to do. I wish these urges would just go away or I wish my mom would tell me why I've recently developed such strong urges, and how to get rid of them.

"I know, but Savannah's been bullying me all year and I just couldn't take it anymore!" I say in my defense.

Savannah's one of the meanest girls at our school, and recently I've been the target of all her attacks. Her actions against me started off small—petty pranks that were quite easy to disregard, like the tacks she put on my chair and the garlic she smeared in my locker. It was a while ago, but my locker still smells, and I'm careful now to always check my seat before I sit down. I can't prove that it was her that did this to me, but every time I check my chair for tacks in algebra class, I see her smug little smile in the back of the room. Lately, her attacks have escalated. Every night for a week, she called my house and left a message on the voicemail, saying that she had seen my dad at the mall making out with another woman. My dad died eighteen months ago and she knows it. I can't fathom why anyone would be so cruel.

All year, my best friend Ashley said I should go to Principal Jenkins and tell him about what Savannah's doing. She's always encouraging me to fight back, 'for the sake of bullied kids everywhere,' as she puts it. Ashley has been my number one supporter when it comes to hating Savannah, and I'm really grateful for her. The reason Ashley is so tough is that another girl bullied her mercilessly, and she quickly learned to stand up for herself—and others—almost a little too much. Ashley can be as sweet as an angel, but will rapidly turn into a demon if anyone mistreats those she cares about. Last time Savannah pulled my hair, Ashley snuck behind her in the lunch line and cut a chunk out of Savannah's hair. Ashley proceeded to warn Savannah that if she ever touched my hair again, she'd follow her to her house and shave the rest of her hair off while she was sleeping. I laughed when I heard that, but then I got a little worried on Savannah's behalf, thinking that Ashley actually might do it.

Like Ashley, I'm convinced that Savannah's cruelty toward me has to do with her ex-boyfriend asking me out. Tyson has asked me out a few times, but I always decline. I don't want to date him, since he's made out with nearly half the girls in our school, girls just like Savannah. Status seems important to Savannah, and she certainly had that when she dated Tyson, the quarterback of our football team. Savannah probably thought she could wrap him around her little finger and have him swear fidelity to her, but he quickly lost interest and moved on, asking me—a complete nobody—out instead.

Right before the fight, Tyson approached me in the hallway and I think he was going to ask me to the prom. I cut him off and fled as fast as I could because 1. I absolutely don't want to go with him and 2. I was afraid Savannah would see us talking. Unfortunately she saw us and started harassing me the second Tyson left. That's when I lost it and now I'm here trying to explain everything to my mom.

"So I suppose tomorrow you'll have a new best friend?" My mom gets a look of pure amusement in her eyes.

I thought she'd be yelling at me, but somehow, her amusement and subdued tone frightens me more. "Is that what will happen?"

She takes a deep breath. "Yes."

I groan. I don't want to be friends with or even associate with that crazy girl. I was trying to get rid of her!

"Savannah will come to you tomorrow, at the very least, and apologize for what she did. She'll also feel compelled to make it up to you and will try to become your best friend by doing anything you ask of her for the rest of her life."

"What?" My stomach drops like I just swallowed three gallons of sand.

My mom nods. "She'll become obsessed with you, stalking you day and night. I've warned you to be careful and this is why. The closer you are to your eighteenth birthday, the stronger the effect of your saliva will have on humans."

Crap! "Why?" This sounds way worse than her bullying me because I can't think of anyone I hate more than Savannah. "I did this because I had just wanted her to leave me alone."

"Unfortunately, that's part of what's called your flair. If one isn't careful and hasn't been trained how to use it properly, it will backfire." She smiles like she's relishing in my pain.

"Flair?" That's the first time I've heard my mom use that word.

"I'll tell you about it when you turn eighteen," she says. That's what she always says, and it drives me completely and totally insane.

"Why not now?"

"Not today." She presses her lips firmly together for a moment and then she says, "In life, the test comes first, the lesson later."

I swear it's her favorite line. But she's not going to budge; my mom is as tight-lipped as they come. Clearly, I hadn't thought this Savannah thing through. "You knew what I was doing, didn't you?"

My mom's eyebrows round upwards. "Of course I knew what you were doing. I've been playing this game since the days of Adam and Eve." She reaches her arm behind my seat, glances back, and gracefully backs out of the school parking spot.

"Ha, ha," I laugh sarcastically.

She turns serious. "It will do you no good to disobey my rules, and I'm warning you, if you do, your disobedience will have dire consequences."

"If you would just tell me why I am the way I am, and how I can control myself, then I'd be happy to obey," I say.

"I already told you, all this will be explained to you when you turn eighteen." Her voice is stern.

I drop my hands into my lap. "Sorry," I say under my breath.

"What was that?"

"Sorry," I say a little louder.

"Don't worry, sweetie, you'll learn in time." She grows silent for a moment. "I wanted to talk to you about this after graduation, but I think now is a better time." She pats me on the knee.

"Yes?" I say.

"It's about your graduation present."

"Yes...?" My mom has been planning my graduation present for some time. I have seen open tour catalogs lying around the house and tourism websites left open on her laptop, and I figure from those clues that my graduation gift has something to do with traveling.

She splashes the windshield with cleaner and turns the wipers on, causing the splattered love-bugs to smear across the glass. Scoffing, she says, "Stupid little things. Anyway, we're going to Minnesota together." Her eyes beam with excitement.

"Oh." I feel a huge scowl coming on. Somehow the thought of going to Minnesota doesn't excite me. At all. "Why Minnesota?" I'd rather stay here all summer and relax on the beach, well, if she'd actually let me do that.

"There are things I'd like you to see and people I'd like you to meet in Minnesota," she says.

"Where—in—Minnesota—exactly?" I try not to sound too upset. Things have been very emotional since my dad passed away in a car accident, and the last thing my mom needs is an ungrateful daughter. I have enough sense to at least be sensitive to that, though the loss hasn't been any easier on me either. Still, I have a hard time hiding the fact that I feel cheated—way cheated. Seriously. What could be more boring than a graduation trip to Minnesota? My best friend Ashley's going to Australia, and even the girl across the street, who never has any fun, gets to spend her summer in Hawaii.

"A small town called Kensington." She turns on the blinker and takes a left at Bee Ridge Road.

I haven't even heard of Kensington, but immediately think that its name reeks of a farm country where cows and goats outnumber the human population for sure. Any place on earth sounds more exciting. Paris, Rome, even Oslo or Orlando!

"There, you'll meet my sisters and you'll officially be accepted into the Dynasty." Excitement bounces inside the curve of her lips and the center of her eyes.

I shouldn't say anything, but the words just come out all by themselves. "Accepted into the...Dynasty?" That's another new word I haven't heard before. "Sounds—weird, like there are a lot of religious rituals or something." My mom hasn't really prepared me for those types of eccentricities. I wonder if being accepted into the Dynasty has anything to do with our unusual abilities. It must.

"There you'll learn how to appropriate what you want from humans," she says.

"What do you mean by appropriate from humans?" A mild panic attack looms inside, winding my emotions into a bundle of nervous energy.

"Let's change the subject. I can't talk to you about it, sweetie, sorry."

I squeeze my lips together. Is there something magical about turning eighteen? It's not like I'm going to be a different person a few weeks from now. "Can you at least tell me how many sisters you have?"

"I suppose that can't hurt. I have three sisters."

I have often wondered why I never met them. It's as though my mom has kept them from me, or me from them. I can't tell which one. "Cool."

"We'll be staying with them in Minnesota, and after we've been there for four weeks—" my mom says.

"Four weeks! What could we possibly be doing there for four weeks?" My summer is officially ruined.

"Shh...just listen, please. After four weeks, we'll be traveling to an invisible island just off the New Hampshire coast." My mom pulls into our double garage and turns the engine off. "It's called Wraithsong Island."

"Seriously? Invisible?" I say sarcastically and laugh, but soon stop when I can tell she's just about had it with me. Maybe I should try to not sound so disappointed. Everything will work out, besides, there are many more summers ahead that will be normal—I hope. Even that's questionable now. What will happen after my eighteenth birthday? Now I'm starting to dread something I should be looking forward to. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I'm telling you now." She glides out of the SUV and crosses our lawn to the mailbox.

I suppose I can wait a few weeks for all this to be clarified. Not like I have a choice. "Anything for me?" I ask, seeing that she has a pile of mail in her hands.

My mom looks like she's still in her mid-twenties. 'Scandinavian genes', she always says when people ask her about her age, but I know it's something else. Her blonde hair reflects the sun, and her bright red lipstick, though faded since this morning, is still striking. I pull my heavy backpack out of the SUV.

"Yes—looks like there's an early birthday card here for you." She holds the black envelope up and waves it.

Black? That's a strange color for a birthday card.

We enter our house through the garage and go through the cozy, yellow laundry room to get to the kitchen. Shortly after moving in, my dad created my mom's dream kitchen—the last thing he did before he died. He installed white and gray marble counter tops, white custom made cupboards, and all new stainless-steel appliances.

The kitchen still brings back so many memories of me working with my dad. He showed me how to hammer in a nail, how to caulk and even how to connect the plumbing. I have dreams of my dad at night, and still wake up crying because I miss him so much. He was my best friend, always there, patient and loving, not yelling or threatening me to do something he wanted, but waiting for me to make my own decisions. He would even respect my choice if I made the wrong one. Well, as long as it didn't harm anyone else, of course. My mom said that Dad was the first man she had fallen in love with. "No one had ever been right for me before your father," she always said. Every day I see the ever-lingering grief in her eyes. Her despondent look appeared the day my dad's life was taken from her.

"Can I fix you a snack?" She opens the cabinet containing the crackers and cereal boxes.

"Mom, I'm almost eighteen. I can fix my own snack." Since I'm an only child, I think she overdoes it and pampers me too much.

"But I like doing it for you," she says softly. I wonder how she manages to give so much, when death robbed her of one of the most important things in her life.

I study the front of my black birthday envelope. There's no return address—only a small, hand-drawn, silver-metallic balloon on the front next to my name and address. The handwriting looks like printed calligraphy and I see that the envelope came from New York City. I start opening it.

"No, no." She grabs it from me. "Not until your birthday."

"But that's not for another two weeks!" I say.

"It's bad luck to open any presents before your birthday, and that includes cards." She stuffs the envelope in the kitchen island drawer. "I'll make you a turkey sandwich, how does that sound?"

A smile tugs at my lips. "Sounds delicious. I'm just going to put my stuff in my room." I scamper through the kitchen, take a left into the hallway with our lives pretty much plastered onto the wall with pictures, "the hallway of memories," as my mom calls it, pass the Jack and Jill bathroom on my right and take a right into the small hallway that leads to my bedroom. It is impeccable as usual: my dark cherry furniture is brightened by red and yellow accents throughout. I pride myself in keeping my room clean, but I do have one weakness when it comes to cleanliness: I absolutely hate making my bed.

The only time I make it is when I know company is coming, which isn't often. I usually spend most of my time on my bed when I'm in my room—when I sleep, when I study, when I chat on the phone with my best friend Ashley and when I immerse myself in reading my favorite new book series—a Viking Blood Saga.

I toss my backpack on to the bed and head to the bathroom. My golden brown hair, or Goldilocks hair as my dad always called it, looks tousled, like it's been through a tornado. I remember Savannah ruffling my hair before she threw her algebra binder in my face. Stupid Savannah, but I can't help but smile a little because even though I'm not looking forward to meeting this new stalker-Savannah, I'm thrilled that the harassment will finally stop. I undo my rowdy ponytail and my hair cascades down my back. I run a brush through it a couple of dozen times and pile it on top of my head into a messy up-do.

"Your sandwich is ready!" my mom hollers from the kitchen.

"Be right there!"

Arriving in the kitchen, I sit down at our kitchen table. I take a bite of my sandwich and it tastes delicious, as always. My mom sits down next to me, handing me a tall glass of ice water. Beads of condensation trickle down the sides and it makes my mouth water.

"So tell me about this flair," I say casually.

"Not talking about it. Just trust me, Sonia, will you?" Her face is harsh.

I'm sick of her treating me like I can't be trusted. "You know what? Forget I ever brought it up. I think I'll just go and do my homework in my room." I grab my sandwich and leave.

Once in my room, I pull my algebra out first and when I'm done with that, I start on history. There's a subtle knock at the door.

"Come in," I say.

My mom opens the door and leans against the doorframe. "I'm sorry, Sonia. I just wish you'd trust me a little more. You'll understand so much more after you go to the Academy."

"Wait, I have to go to school?" My eyebrows gather tightly above my eyes.

"Yes. You have to learn about all of this from somewhere," she says.

"About what, Mom? You won't even tell me. This is going to be the worst summer ever! I'm not going." Fury wells up inside when I think about how my mom has kept all this information from me my whole life. I feel lied to.

"Sonia, I'll leave it up to you to decide whether or not you want to go. I'm not going to force you, but if you turn nineteen and decide not to enter the Dynasty, you'll be on your own." She sounds very frustrated.

"Why did you wait so long to tell me about all this?" I try to sound reasonable, but instead, there's a whiney tone in my voice.

My mom takes a deep breath and then exhales. "Sonia, you're acting like a five-year-old, and I expect more from you. Besides, some things aren't up to me. The rule is that I'm not supposed to tell you anything until you turn eighteen, and then you have a year to decide whether you want to go to the Academy or not. I've already given you a head start."

I glance at her and then back down at my homework. "I know I'm acting—not myself, sorry." Usually I'm much better at controlling my emotions, but lately, my emotions have the upper hand.

She sits down on my bed next to me and takes my hand. "You don't have to decide right this moment. Sleep on it, and we'll talk about it in a few days, all right?"

I puff. In reality, I'm afraid of the future because I have so many questions, yet so few answers and I feel like the decisions I make over the next few months will alter my life forever. "I just—"

Suddenly, my mom's phone rings from the kitchen. "Hold that thought." She runs out to the kitchen and I soon hear her talking on the phone to whoever is on the other end of the line.

Sitting alone, I wonder why there are so many secrets. My friends don't seem to have these types of secrets in their families. They all know their extended families and live normal lives, or at least that's how it seems. "Kensington," I say out loud as I try to imagine how my trip to the tiny town might be. Then I think of Wraithsong Island off the coast of New Hampshire and figure that my life will never be the same again.

"Who was it?" I ask when my mom returns.

Her face is a pale gray. "It was my eldest sister," she says. "Something has happened to one of my other sisters."

"What?" I say.

She says tearfully, "She's vanished."

"How?" Having never met my aunts, I have no real connection with them, but I can't ignore her pained expression.

"It's uncertain at this point, but the police have been notified."

"Maybe she just—ran away," I say.

"No, my sister would never run away, especially not when it's so close to—" she lets her voice trail off.

"Do you need to go visit your family? I'll be fine for a few days."

She rests her chin on her clenched fist. "I'll need to think about it."

"If you're worried about leaving me—" I say.

"No, it's not that. If there were any sign of foul play involved, I would be worried about leaving you, but there isn't."

"Even if there were, they're thousands of miles away," I say.

"I know, but you never know." Her eyes get a worried look.

"If you need to leave, I'll be fine. I can have Ashley stay with me for a few days."

"I'll think about it." She stands up, her expression extremely worried. "I need to run an errand right now, if you don't mind."

"Okay, I'll just finish my homework. Will you be all right?" I place my hand on her shoulder.

"I don't know, but this might change everything." She walks out of my room before I'm able to ask another question.

After my mom leaves, I think about what she said earlier. I have something called flair, and that has something to do with my ability to control people. After today, I'm certain that if used inappropriately, this ability can cause a lot of damage to others and myself, and though I want to understand it, my mom's definitely not going to tell me. I'll just have to be more careful while I wait.

My summer looks a bit bleak, and just to make my last few weeks of school miserable, I'll be pulling up weeds with a complete stranger. Anthony's probably a mean old guy who has green thumbs and fingers and toes, and spends all his free time conversing with shrubbery.

Chapter 2

Strolling down the larger of the two aisles in the school's greenhouse, I study the plethora of flowerless plants while I wait for Anthony to arrive. He's late and I hate it when people are late. I can't think of anything more annoying or disrespectful. My fingers grace the tips of some dark green leaves. How can anyone tell the difference between these plants? They all look the same to me. I pull off my button-up shirt, preparing to weed.

Today turned out quite satisfactory for me, though kind of creepy. My mom was right about the fact that Savannah would come and apologize to me, but what I hadn't expected was how apologetic she'd actually be. I laugh to myself as I remember what happened.

"Sonia, I'm so very sorry about yesterday," Savannah said, approaching my old beat-up, still garlic-reeking locker. "And all the other times, I just feel horrible. I don't know what came over me, and I don't even remember why I've been so rude to you all year. You're one of the sweetest, most beautiful girls in school and all I can figure is that I was extremely jealous of you. Will you forgive me—please?"

"Sure, Savannah, I'll forgive you. No worries." I started to step away, smiling, feeling like I was walking on air.

Savannah moved in front of me, clenching my hands in hers. "I've also told Principal Jenkins that it was all my fault. I...I hope that was okay with you," she said, her eyes sincere and pleading.

"Oh, all right, good."

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Savannah asked.

"No, not that I can think of," I said as I pulled my hands out of her grasp and started to walk away.

"Well, if there is anything I can do, you'd tell me, right?" Savannah followed me down the hallway, causing many of the other students to stop and stare. It was embarrassing.

"Yes, of course," I said, thinking that this new Savannah was almost worse than the old mean one. I finally got rid of her when I went to my social studies class, but at lunch, Savannah approached me again.

"Please let me buy you lunch," Savannah said in the food line. "And can I sit by you?" Her request filled with desperation for my approval. "Please? I'd be honored."

I tried to stifle a laugh and Ashley became speechless—something I thought was impossible.

"What did you do to Savannah?" Ashley asked, once we had successfully dumped her.

"I don't know. Maybe Principal Jenkins talked to her or something," I said, shrugging my shoulders. What was there to say anyway? I've never told Ashley about my strange abilities, mainly because I don't want my friends to think I'm a freak, which I kind of am. "Hey, your highlights look amazing by the way," I said, trying to distract her. Usually her hair is dark brown, but now, sun-kissed, it brought out the golden hue in her hazel eyes.

By the last period, Savannah, almost stalker-esque, annoyed me. "Can I help carry your backpack?" she asked me, popping out of nowhere. "I bought you some chocolate, but then I realized that I didn't know what your favorite brand was so I picked out a few."

"The best thing you can do is to just ignore me, okay?" I snapped. Immediately after I said it, I felt bad. "I'm sorry. I just would like for you to go live your life and be happy. I'm not mad at you, I promise."

"Okay, I'll ignore you until you say so—no problem." Savannah walked off, her eyes pining after me.

I laugh a little again at the memory, though deep inside, I wish I had handled it better. I don't want to be mean, not even to Savannah, though it did feel really good getting back at her for how nasty she's been to me.

Bushes and short trees line the center of the glasshouse. Flowers and smaller plants run along the outer edges and sit in wood containers on top of wooden risers. It smells of musty, old earth, and the glass walls and ceiling haven't been cleaned in decades. I'm still annoyed that I have to fulfill my punishment, even though Savannah went and explained to Principal Jenkins that it was all her fault. I wonder if my mom has something to do with it.

Then a thought flashes through my mind. Maybe I could get Savannah to take this punishment for me. No one needs to know, and I'm sure Savannah wouldn't tell a soul and would be thrilled to do me a favor. It would also help me feel a whole lot better about all the mean things she has done to me in the past.

The greenhouse is hot and humid, but I never sweat. I'm glad I have never needed to worry about deodorants or smelling fresh. Then again, I wonder if me not sweating has something to do with being different. Come to think of it, there are many little oddities like that that make me abnormal. One of those things is that I have these silver transparent markings on my back. I always thought they were just birthmarks or stretch marks, but now I wonder if they also have something to do with my other unusual abilities. I reach for and touch the top of my back, fearing that I might be a lot more different than what I had initially thought.

"Are you Sonia?" I hear a deep voice ask from behind me.

I turn toward the young man who startled me. His light blue eyes immediately catch my attention. They are intense, yet kind, and his gaze stuns me so much that I forget to breathe.

"Yes," I say, taken aback, holding my hand out so he can shake it. Then I realize he's carrying two large terra cotta pots, one in each arm. "Sorry." My face warms and then butterflies flutter in my stomach. Guys don't usually have this effect on me—actually, no guy ever has had this sort of effect on me. There's something distinctly different about him, and his narrow eyes and deep voice draw me in. I wonder why I've never met him before. He's around my age, so surely he must be a junior or a senior, and even if he graduated last year, I would definitely have noticed him—and all the other girls in school for that matter. For a moment, I struggle to find something intelligent to say.

He sets the pots down onto the ground, his forearms muscular and tan. "No problem, I'm Anthony." He wipes his dirt-covered hands on his faded jeans and shakes my hand. "I hear you'll be helping me over the next ten days for an hour a day?" He runs his fingers through his blond, wavy hair.

"Uh...yes, that would be me," I say, hoping he doesn't know exactly why I've been sent to help him. That would be embarrassing.

Anthony cocks his head to the side, his eyes scanning my face as if he's trying to read me. "You don't seem like a rebel."

I cringe inwardly. "What do you mean?" I ask, even though I know exactly what he means, and from his comment, I suspect that he knows what I did to get sentenced to work here.

"I'll spare you," he says with a smile. "Let's get started, shall we? Follow me." Anthony heads toward the exit of the greenhouse.

I'll spare you? His statement is rather rude, even though he said it in the sweetest way. Walking behind him, I can't help but check him out. I laugh silently at myself because I never, ever check guys out. Ashley thinks there's something wrong with me, but I just chalk it up to never having met the right guy. Anthony's loose jeans cover what I think looks like strong legs and a firm behind, and his white and red Liverpool t-shirt hugs his chest and broad shoulders.

"Did Principal Jenkins tell you what you'd be doing today?" Anthony asks without turning around to look at me.

"Yes, of course," I say, slightly annoyed, and definitely not wanting to discuss anything about the humiliating meeting with someone I just met.

"Well, you're not dressed suitably for weeding," he says, almost mockingly.

Immediately on the defensive, I say, "Why do you say that?" I think I've done an excellent job in choosing a comfortable and appropriate ensemble to do all the dirty work in: jean shorts and a tank top.

With an abrupt motion, Anthony swivels around and comes closer. "You'll be crawling a lot, so you'll want long pants made of thin cotton or linen. If you wear shorts," he eyes my shorts and almost frowns, "the bugs are going to eat you alive and the skin on your knees will become all scuffed up. Do you have a sun hat? Or sun screen?"

"No." I wouldn't need either.

"And you're going to get sunburned." He rolls his eyes.

He's making me upset. "No I'm not. I never burn," I say dryly.

He grabs my arm, startling me again, and examines it. "Ouch, you're hurting me!"

"You're as pale as an albino," he sneers.

"I adapt well to the...sun." I pull my arm back forcefully. Who does this guy think he is? He seems like a gardener from hell.

Anthony opens the squeaky glass door. "If you'd like, you can start tomorrow when you have the appropriate attire." He walks out and the door slams shut behind him.

I'm ticked off that he doesn't even show me the decency of holding the door open for me. Flinging the door open, I follow after him. "No." I march up behind him. "I'll be fine and I want to start today." So I can get it over with as quickly as possible.

Anthony picks up a few rusty gardening tools. "Suit yourself." He continues across the large grass field behind the school, and then skirts around to the building's northern brick wall.

It's difficult keeping up with his fast pace. "Do you always run to your destinations?" I breathe heavily.

"I'm not running. I'm just in a hurry to get this done so I can catch my soccer game."

"Soccer?"

"Yeah, you know where they kick the ball with their feet and—"

I interrupt him. "I know what soccer is." Why is he acting so condescending toward me? I just met him and I've been nothing but nice. I can't see his face, but I get the feeling he's rolling his eyes at me.

"Many girls your type don't, and I doubt you really know anything about the sport," he says, still moving at an unusually fast pace.

"You never walk alone!" I shout.

Anthony stops dead in his tracks, swivels around and glares at me with a frown. "What did you say?"

"You never walk alone," I repeat, my hands hitting my hips, smiling because I know that will get his attention. 'You never walk alone' is Liverpool Football Club's slogan.

"How did you know that?" Although shocked, a shadow of a smile emerges on his lips.

I'm proud that I actually know something about soccer, and that judging from the shirt he's wearing, Liverpool is probably about Anthony's favorite team. "My dad's favorite soccer team was Liverpool."

He narrows his eyes and steps in my direction. His presence is daunting, leaving me suddenly breathless, so I lean back a little.

"Doesn't he support them anymore?" he asks.

"Why would you think that?" My defenses are at their peak. He can mess with me, but not my dad.

"You said 'was,' right?"

"Oh." I don't really want to share with Anthony the details of my life, especially since he's been acting like an idiot, but I decide to answer anyway. "No, my dad passed away about a year and a half ago." I try not to get emotional. That would be the most awkward thing to have happen, and I don't want to give Anthony any more reasons to think less of me.

His firm expression melts into a compassionate one. "I'm sorry to hear that." His brow wrinkles and he starts walking again at a slower pace.

"It's okay, I'm almost used to it now," I say in an attempt to snap him out of his melancholic mood. His mood swings are exhausting to keep up with, and I have barely even spent fifteen minutes with him.

"That's what you think you ought to say, isn't it? That's what I used to say for a long time too," Anthony says.

"Did your dad die, too?" I regret that I judged him so harshly.

"No," Anthony says.

Now I'm thoroughly confused. First Anthony seems kind, then rude, then he's a complete jerk, and now he's relating to me without having something to even relate to? No wonder I've never met him before—Principal Jenkins probably keeps Anthony locked up in the greenhouse so he can keep him away from good students and use him to punish students who have strayed from the straight and narrow.

As we come around the corner to the western side of the building, the sun blinds us. "My father abandoned my mother when I was young." Anthony's voice softens considerably.

Fluctuating between defensiveness and guilt, I feel like I'm on a rollercoaster ride. "I'm sorry, I guess it's kind of the same as my dad." I hold my arm up to block the sun.

He cracks a sideways smile. "Kind of." He looks so much more approachable with a smile on his face, and something draws me to him when he smiles.

"So, are you a senior?" I ask.

"Yes."

"I thought I knew all the seniors at Sarasota High." I scratch my head.

"Apparently not," he says.

I don't like how vague he's being especially since there's so much vagueness in my life already. That's one of the reasons I like Ashley so much. She always speaks her mind so I know where I am with her, but with Anthony, it's as if he's trying to dodge every question I ask, and vagueness coupled with the few rude remarks he's been throwing at me, makes me not want to be around him.

We stop in front of the school. "This is where all the weeds are." He gestures to the entire front side of the red brick building. Four royal palm trees stand on either side of the oak front doors, and plants that looks like weeds blanket the beds below them.

"The weeds go on for miles!" I say—exaggerating—but only slightly. "It's going to take way more than ten hours to get rid of them all." I hadn't noticed how overgrown the front of the school actually looks, as I always park and enter in the back.

"Well, you're more than welcome to work for more than ten hours. Do you know which ones are the weeds and which ones aren't?" he asks.

I make an apologetic face. "Not really, they all look like weeds to me."

Anthony laughs, shaking his head, his blond hair catching the afternoon sunlight. "So I guess I'll need to teach you the difference between weeds and flowers."

"Yes, definitely, or you can just tell Principal Jenkins that I'm a complete waste of time and that it would be best if I didn't weed with you."

"Ha, ha, ha," he says sarcastically. "Nice try, but we need these weeds out by the end of the year, and it's your duty now, too."

I frown, the burden of responsibility descending on my narrow shoulders. I could always get Savannah to take over for me, but something tells me that I want to spend some one-on-one time with Anthony, at least until I have him figured out a little more.

* * *

I get home at 6:56 p.m., nearly two and a half hours after school ended. As soon as I begin a project, I can't stop—I hate leaving any project unfinished—but after Anthony left at 5:30 p.m., I lost my motivation to continue. I figure it will take me at least ten more, three-and-a-half hour days if I am to complete the project with Anthony's help. Still, I don't know if it will be worth my time because Anthony doesn't seem interested in getting to know me at all. He weeded on the opposite side of the school as me even, making conversation with him impossible. The only communication between us after we started weeding was to exchange phone numbers.

"Just in case I need to reach you in an emergency," he said and then he ran off to soccer practice.

My mom's SUV stands in the garage when I get home. I park my dad's silver Jetta in the driveway, unlock the stained glass front door and take a left into my room. Anthony was right about a few things; my knees feel raw from all the digging and crawling; and though my skin didn't burn from the sun—he was wrong about that—it would have been nice to have a wide-brimmed hat to keep the scorching sun out of my eyes.

"Mom?" I yell as I head for the kitchen.

"I'm in here," she yells from her bedroom.

I adjust my course and walk through the living room into the master bedroom. Sitting down on the king-sized four-post bed, I sigh. "How was your day?"

Heaps of neatly folded clothes stand in piles on top of the ocean blue duvet. "Oh, just fine." She folds a towel. "What about you? You look exhausted."

I lean back, letting myself fall into the soft bed. "I'm exhausted—and look at my knees." I lift one knee up and reveal the scratches and bruises on it and after that show her my blistered hands.

"Looks like you worked hard today." She moves on to matching the socks up. "If you keep this pace up, you'll be done with your commitment in no time." She smiles.

"Well...I might just stick with it until the job is finished," I mumble.

"Really? I thought you said you had too much homework and that you have to study for your finals."

"I do, but I'll be careful to manage my time so I can get it all done. Besides, it's nice to be able to contribute to my school, right?" I can tell that she isn't quite buying into my story.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" One eyebrow arches way up to her forehead.

"No," I say, because there is truly nothing to tell—yet—at least not when it comes to Anthony. For as long as I can remember, my parents have forbidden me from having a boyfriend and warned me that if I brought a boy home they would tell him about my special gifts. That's the one thing they have really been strict about—no boys, ever. I don't want anyone to know that I'm different, of course. I want to fit in at school and not look like a freak among my peers. Thankfully, I haven't liked anyone enough to bring them to my house anyway.

"The reason you're not allowed to kiss anyone before you turn eighteen," my dad said once I asked him about it, "is that you'll never get rid of him and if you're not one hundred and ten percent sure about whether or not you want the guy around for eternity, don't kiss him. He'll follow you to the ends of the earth, and you'll be sorry." I believed him then and I believe him now.

"I promise, if there was something to tell, I'd let you know right away," I say. At least I think I would.

Chapter 3

By Friday, I've worked five days with Anthony, and I still haven't been able to figure him out. Most guys would have suggested that we hang out or something by now, but Anthony seems to not be interested in me at all. In fact, he seems to be repulsed by me, and this rejection is quite a strange experience. The thought that he might be gay briefly crosses my mind, but I quickly abandon that thought when he tells me that he asked another senior—a female—to the prom.

"Are you going to the prom?" he asks.

"No." I pull on another weed, but curse when the gnarly root remains embedded in the black soil. A few boys have asked me, but my mom forbid me to go, so I had to (not so) regretfully decline. It's just as well anyway, for if I go to the prom, most of my friends will probably steal away to make out, or rent a hotel room, and I won't be doing any of that. I don't like any of the guys at school enough to want to have them eternally bound to me, especially not after seeing how Savannah acted toward me when I used my flair on her.

"What's wrong?" Anthony asks.

His deep voice brings me back to the present. "Nothing, just these roots are being so...difficult!" I plop down into the grass and huff.

"Of course, it's their job to be."

That's a strange reply. "My hands hurt, my knees hurt, and I'm getting behind on my homework."

"No one's forcing you to do this, you know. And why don't you wear gardening gloves? That would save your hands a lot of pain," Anthony says.

I frown. "I know no one's forcing me to do this. You don't have to state the obvious all the time. And my hands can't grab these stupid roots when I wear gloves." Why does he care about my hands anyway? I walk over to my water bottle and take a few sips. Glancing over at him, I see the muscles in his back flex as he pulls out the weeds, and at that my heart starts beating faster. If I'm truly honest with myself, what I'm really upset about is that Anthony is pretty much just ignoring me, and it's driving me crazy.

"So why are you doing this? You've already put in the ten hours Principal Jenkins told you that you have to." Anthony wipes the dirt off his face with the front of his shirt, revealing his six-pack. His abdomen is as tan as his forearms so I conclude that he must play soccer—shirtless.

I force myself not to let my eyes linger. "I just hate leaving a job unfinished," I say, but again, that's not the real reason. "Why are you here? You never told me your story of how you got stuck in the greenhouse in the first place."

Anthony smiles, his pearly teeth are extra white against his skin. "I just moved here about a month ago and needed to earn some extra credit so I could graduate on time," he says. "I worked out a deal with Principal Jenkins."

That's why I haven't seen him before. Most of the other girls in school must know about him, but since Ashley and I are somewhat outsiders, I've never been introduced to Anthony. "So where did you move from?" I'm pleased that we're having a conversation that sounds like an actual...well...conversation.

"From Norway. My mother worked there for a year, but then got transferred to Sarasota."

I think back to a discussion I had with my mom, and how she said she used to live in Norway when she was younger. "My mom lived in Norway before I was born." I kick a root in the ground, trying to loosen it.

"Really, where?" He strains as he pulls at another root.

"Somewhere on the west coast," I say, not remembering the name of the city.

"We stayed in Asker. It's about a thirty minute drive south of their Capitol, Oslo." Anthony pushes me gently aside and lifts the root up as if it's nothing.

Really? I huff, figuring I probably loosened it for him. "Did you like it there?"

"Sure. The people there are down to earth, and their heritage is amazing. I became fascinated by the Vikings and did a lot of research on their mythology and folklore."

"I love Viking mythology." I pull on the next weed. "My mom studied Norse mythology and most recently, she told me there is something called a Huldra. It's interesting how all people think a Huldra is nothing but a woman who is obsessed with seducing men." I think I see Anthony's jaw drop from the corner of my eye. Maybe I shouldn't have brought the Huldra up; it is a rather intense subject, but I like his reaction more than I want to admit.

"Most people have no clue when it comes to Norse mythology," he says angrily and stands up. "We're done for today."

"But we just started," I protest. Was what I said that offensive? For a moment I want to use my flair on him so I can control him, but it would be wrong. And would I want him to follow me around...forever? Uh...no. He's too moody.

"I forgot that I have somewhere I have to be. Have a good weekend." Then he jogs all the way back to the greenhouse, leaving me to the rest of the work.

Forget this! I'm not going to waste my time here, weeding on a Friday night—alone. Anthony gets upset about everything I say and annoyed by everything I do. I'm done weeding. I've put in my ten hours, and I'm finished. I want to be around people who understand me and who make sense. I text Ashley:

Want to go see a movie?

Ashley's quick to reply:

Sure! How about the new zombie movie that just came out?

I loathe anything to do with zombies, but the action might help me take my mind off moody Anthony.

What time and theatre?

I type back. After about three minutes Ashley's reply comes.

7:30 p. m., Sarasota Square Mall.

Back home, I shower and finish some of my homework before heading out. "I'll be back around 10:30, Mom!" I holler on my way out the door, shutting it before I hear her reply. Hopping into the car, I catch a whiff of a familiar, heavenly scent. I love how my dad's cologne still lingers in the seats of the vehicle and how it makes me feel safe, like he's still part of my life. He used to drive me everywhere, and it was our time to talk about everything and nothing. I especially miss him on weekends when we used to go to the beach together or go hiking or camping. He loved nature and wildlife in general, and I could tell that being outside enlivened his soul.

I turn on the engine and I'm surprised by the sudden sound of my mom knocking on the car window.

"Don't forget your phone," she says, handing it to me. "You left it in the kitchen."

"Thanks." I grab it and put it in my yellow bag. I really need to clean it out. I carry make-up, my wallet, a mirror, three adhesive bandages and antibiotic ointment—just in case I need them—a toothbrush and toothpaste, a travel-size hairbrush and gum. I never throw away any receipts, and they are starting to take over the entire purse. Tomorrow I'll get it done, I promise myself.

"Have fun, and say 'hi' to Ashley for me." My mom looks thinner than usual, or maybe it's just the way the rays from the setting sun hit her face, making her cheeks look hollow and the circles under her eyes darker.

"Sure." I roll up the window, pause, and then roll it back down again. "You should go out...have some fun too, Mom."

She smiles. "Don't worry about me, Sonia. When I'm ready to, I will."

Maybe I haven't been sensitive enough to her needs since my dad passed away. We never really speak about his death and the pain it has caused, we have only talked about the good memories we shared when he was alive. I really want to speak to her about the pain and how to get over it before it turns into a wound that can never be healed.

"Go, or you'll be late," she says, waving her hand.

I smile, wave back, and pull out of the driveway.

* * *

"Well that was a complete waste of money," Ashley says, as we stroll out of the theatre with the others. The auditorium was only about ten percent filled, and that should have been a clear sign that this movie would be a dud.

"Agreed," I say, turning my phone back on. A text message pops up on my screen:

Sorry about leaving so abruptly today, but I needed to take care of something important. Hope you'll still weed with me on Monday. Anthony.

My heart pauses for half a heartbeat, but though I appreciate the apology, I'm still angry with him. Can one feel angry and intrigued at the same time?

"What?" Ashley asks, peeking over to read the text. "Who's Anthony?"

"He's the guy I weed with," I say. "I mean, you know last week when I told you I was sent to Principal Jenkins's office and was sentenced to ten hours of school service?"

"Yes...?"

"Well, the guy who works in the greenhouse is Anthony."

"Is he kind?" It's always Ashley's first question when I bring up a guy she hasn't met, and the second question is, "Is he hot?" I laugh nervously, hoping she won't pick up on it and we head into the ladies room.

"He's...nice—maybe, I don't know him too well yet," I say. Should I tell her what I really think? Yes. "And he's not bad to look at." But that's not why I like him. There's something special about him that I just can't put my finger on.

Ashley grins, her thick lips broadening with a smile. "Is he a senior?"

"Yes, he just recently moved here." We stop by the mirror and I pull my lip-gloss out and apply some. I watch Ashley brush her thick, long hair. She has a broad forehead and is slightly curvy in a very feminine way.

"You'll have to introduce me." She gathers her hair into a ponytail and makes a sexy face into the mirror.

I laugh. "He's kind of moody, but if you want him, he's all yours." I regret saying it right away. The thought of Ashley and Anthony dating doesn't sit well with me for some reason.

"That's not what I meant. I want to meet the boy who hasn't even asked you out yet after having known you for more than half a minute. Most guys would have tried to marry you by now if you gave them any attention."

"Don't be ridiculous," I scoff.

"Okay, but it's almost true," she says, as though there could be no argument.

"Well, this guy has been ignoring me completely, at least until this last text." I pull my phone out again and at that moment another text pops up.

Want to get some lunch tomorrow? –A

I think about forgiving him and then decide it's worth it, at least for now, until I get to know him better. I show the text to Ashley.

"I'm telling you, I want to meet him. Does he have a date to the prom yet?" she asks.

I groan. "Yes, doesn't everybody?" It's only about a week until the prom.

"He probably asked her before he met you, though."

"No, he asked her on Thursday, but I can't go to the prom anyway, so it doesn't matter," I mope.

Ashley pulls out some pressed powder and applies it to her face. "I don't get your mom. She's so strict. I mean, who doesn't let their daughter go to the prom?" She has that look on her face when she's extremely upset about something, which is about fifty percent of the time.

"It's more complicated than that," I say, wishing I could reveal more of my oddities to her, and wishing I could tell her everything about me, but I just don't feel it's the right thing to do, at least not until I know what it is that makes me so different.

"Really? How complicated could it be? I mean, I want to respect your mom's decision and all, but you've got to be able to have some fun in life. She doesn't let you go swimming at the beach, or have sleep-overs, or..."

I interrupt her. "I know, it sucks, but it's just how it is." I'm not going to try to explain it away, for no sane reason would be good enough. "My parents have always been overprotective of me."

"I'd understand it if it was a religious decision or something, but just because they want to protect you? Like from what? It doesn't make sense."

"Can we just drop it please? There's nothing I can do about it and now you're actually making me want to go to the stupid prom."

Ashley gives me a really? look.

"Please..." I say.

"Fine, but I'll miss you." She pouts, then suddenly her eyes widen. "Hey, I have an idea! Can't you just go without a date?" She has this sneaky way of bringing up the subjects I don't want to talk about again. I fall for it every time.

"What? So I can be everyone's third wheel?" I really don't want to be the third wheel.

"There are a bunch of guys and girls going stag. I hear it's the new in-thing."

"Seriously?" I haven't considered going stag, but my mom just might let me go if I go alone, and promise to not get involved with anyone in any way, and come home at a decent hour.

"Sue is also thinking about going solo. I'll let her know that you're going and you can join our group," Ashley says.

"That makes it seem like I'm her date." I shake my head.

"There are a few others who also want to go stag. I'll talk to them and see if we can't plan something."

That sounds a little better, I think. "I'll need a dress."

"The dress is the easiest thing to get. I'll go with you tomorrow—after your lunch date with hot Anthony." She smiles playfully.

I laugh. "It's not a date—just lunch."

"Yeah, sure it is," Ashley says.

I text Anthony back.

Sure, just let me know the time and place - Sonia

Ashley and I go out and get a bite to eat, and before I know it, it's 11:00 p.m. I say good-bye to her and head home.

Chapter 4

When I get home, the only light turned on in the entire house is the light above my mom's head in the kitchen. She's sitting at the table with a letter in her hand, looking unusually pale, the muscles in her face—limp.

"Are you okay?" I say.

She doesn't respond, she just sits as still as a statue and gazes out into the air, staring at nothing.

"Mom?" I say a little louder this time, placing my hand on her shoulder.

She moves her head toward me, but doesn't look at me. Her cheeks glisten with tears.

"What's wrong?" I crouch down beside her.

Finally, she notices me and sniffles. "Three of the young Huldras have been murdered."

"Huldras?"

"That's what our kind is called, sweetie," she says. "That's why we're different."

"Our kind?" I'm totally confused. These beings aren't supposed to exist—they're just creatures of mankind's imagination—mythological creatures. "What happened?"

"They're not sure. They found them—they were killed separately—shot to death—but were taken—" She doesn't complete the sentence, but instead looks me squarely in the eyes. "I need to talk to you."

"Okay, I'm here," I say.

Her eyes narrow. "This is important. You must promise me that you won't use your flair on anyone, you hear?" Her voice trembles.

"All right." I want to ask why not, but it's definitely not the appropriate moment.

"Someone out there is after us. Someone is out to destroy our kind, and if we reveal ourselves by using our flair, we could be the next ones killed."

I take a moment to digest that. "Okay, I just want to clarify. Our kind is—you're saying we're...Huldras?"

She nods slowly as she grabs a tissue and dries the tears from her eyes. "Promise me you won't tell a soul."

"This is crazy," I say.

"It's the truth—swear to me you won't tell a soul!" She grabs my wrist and pulls me in close just a couple of inches away from her face.

"If what you're saying is true..."

"What I am saying is true, Sonia. Just promise me you won't use your flair!" my mom yells and slams her palm into the table with a loud bang.

The noise frightens me and I jump. "I promise," I wince.

At my words, she relaxes a little. "It's late and I need to get some rest."

"Okay." A million questions crowd my mind. "I'm sorry about—" I don't even know what to say so I stop talking.

"I know, sweetheart—thank you." She cups my face with her hand, then grabs my head, pulling it closer to her, and kisses me on the forehead. She stands up and goes to the master bedroom, locking the door behind her. I'm in shock. She says I'm a Huldra. She's a Huldra. Can I believe it? I don't know; all I know is that this is so outrageous I can't wrap my mind around it.

I hurry to my room and flip open my laptop to do a search on Huldras. There are a lot of results that come up. The first website reads:

Huldras have been around since the days of Adam and Eve. Huldras have many advantages over humans, the main advantage being that they can control humans in many subtle and ingenious ways.

Is that what my mom meant by saying she's been playing this game of manipulation since the days of Adam and Eve? But surely she isn't that old? I scroll down the page and continue to read.

Another advantage Huldras have is that nearly all humans don't believe they exist. A human doesn't even know that they are being controlled, because they don't know that they can be controlled. Huldras hide their identities from humans exceptionally well. Not only that, but a Huldra never gives away her own kind.

Now I understand a bit more about why my mom is so secretive about it. I click into another website and see a drawing of a forest maiden that has long, blonde hair, is dressed in sheer white fabric, revealing cleavage and lots of leg.

Most stories of the Huldras tell of the way they can mesmerize and seduce any man, no matter how faithful he is to his wife or lover. However, what all the stories leave out is that Huldras can control anyone, both male and female. The secret isn't only in a Huldra's beauty, though a Huldra is always stunningly beautiful, but the secret is in her flair—or in other words, in the combination of her beauty, her saliva, and in all the virtues and character traits she has appropriated from humans. Though it has been said that Huldras are on earth to do good, don't let them fool you. Huldras are only after two things: Control and appropriations.

Appropriated from humans—that sounds really sinister. Of course, I already knew about the saliva part, but I don't yet know how to use it to my advantage—only to my detriment. I wonder if these sites are accurate or not, and who would know about Huldras to write about them? The websites do state that this is just folklore and Norse Mythology, not reality. I click on another link, but discover nothing really important. I click on a few more, but my well of information has run dry. Then I click on one more, just in case it might contain more valuable information. It does.

When a Huldra turns eighteen, that's when her powers fully develop and she learns how to use them. It is a second birth, a new beginning, a time full of magical transformations. It is also a very dangerous time, in which the Huldra can lose control of her urges, destroying herself and the humans she comes in contact with, unless she is guided in the right direction.

If this website even has an ounce of truth to it, this information explains why I've acted so rashly lately. I click into a few more websites, but there isn't really any valuable information to find, or at least, anything that sounds even remotely credible. I lay my head on my pillow and think about what my mom told me and what I just read. Appropriations? Second birth? Magical transformations? Dangerous time? My life is about to change completely. The thought frightens me; yet, it excites me like nothing else has ever excited me. And as irrational as it sounds though, I feel comfort in finally being given a name—Huldra.

Chapter 5

The next morning, my mom has already left the house when I get up. Usually she goes to Detweiler's Fresh Market to purchase produce for the week, and I catch up on my homework. But not today. Today, I'm meeting Anthony for lunch, so I hop in the shower. In the shower, when my skin comes in contact with water, the familiar pricking sensation spreads across my back. I reach behind to my back and the transparent markings swell just a tad. The websites hadn't mentioned anything about these patterns, but I'm dying to find out what their purpose is—if any. I towel dry and pick out a pair of skinny jeans, a peach satin top and my gold wedges. I curl my hair and apply a little more make-up than usual.

Of all the places Anthony can choose to go to lunch, he picks his house. I'm not sure what to expect, but I know I don't want to meet his mother. Being thrown up onto a stage where I have to perform and be judged is the last thing in the world I want to do right now, or ever. I lock the door to the house and drive east.

Pulling into the Founders Club, I stop at the wide double gates. Founders Club is known as the multi-millionaire luxury subdivision, and I've never been inside, only driven by the front gates.

"Where to, Miss?" the guard asks. His russet guard uniform blends in with the stucco guard tower.

"Uh, Mr. Anthony's house," I say, now realizing I don't know Anthony's last name. I text him quickly, hoping he'll reply before the guard figures out that there is no Mr. Anthony or before he sends me to some stranger's house. The text comes back.

My surname is Jensen and the address is: 10849

"Sir?" I say, leaning out the window. "Sorry, I meant the Jensen residence. My name is Sonia Fredriksen."

"Ah, yes, Maureen phoned in and said she was expecting you," the guard says.

I nod. Maureen must be Anthony's mom and the thought makes me suddenly uneasy. Maybe I should call Anthony back and say I've fallen ill. I don't want to have lunch with Anthony's mom there because it would just be plain awkward.

"Thanks." I drive in through the gates. There's a large brick-paved roundabout and in the center stands a handful of Washington palms, surrounded by yellow and blue flowers that I don't know the names of. I steer my car around the bend and take the road to the left. Numerous oak trees covered with Spanish moss grow on the golf course to the right, and a small river runs underneath the bridge ahead.

"Number 10849," I say out loud, stopping at a huge white stucco house and peer out my window. Dark grey ceramic tiles line the rooftop and a red-bricked driveway leads into the three-car garage. A small red BMW stands parked in the driveway and I wonder if it's Anthony's, realizing I've never seen his car. Parking my car, I get out of the car and step up to the entrance doors inlaid with burgundy glass. I don't even ring the doorbell before a maid opens the door for me.

"Welcome, Miss Fredriksen," the maid says and smiles warmly. Her black dress looks like it's been ironed a hundred times; there's not a single wrinkle anywhere. She lets me in and closes the door behind me. "May I take your purse for you?" She holds out her hands.

"No, thank you," I say, clenching it tightly, thinking it's clearly a mistake coming here. This will be the most awkward lunch I've ever had. I swallow nervously and glue on a smile, ignoring my dry throat and clammy hands.

The grand foyer has amber marble floors. A huge crystal chandelier hovers over a glass table in the center of the octagon-shaped room, and on the glass table there are orange calla lilies mixed with white and red long-stemmed roses. At the end of the hall is another vestibule with round column pillars on either side, and in the room at the end are sliding glass doors, and beyond that, a pool. A stairwell curves up along the wall on the right, and paintings of nature adorn the stairwell wall. The railing is a Norse, swirling pattern constructed from brushed golden metal.

"Welcome to our humble home," a woman says. Her short dark hair is slicked back behind her ears and with perfect posture, she reaches both hands out to greet me. "I'm Maureen, Anthony's mother. My, aren't you a beauty." Her eyes are intense.

Ugh, I sense the performance has just begun. "Pleased to meet you," I say, realizing immediately that formality is the word of the day.

"Anthony is just finishing up with preparing your lunch. Unfortunately I cannot join you today. I hope you'll forgive me. May I take you to him?" Maureen says, locking my arm in hers. She smells heavily of super-expensive perfume.

I'm relieved to hear she won't be joining us. "Sure—I mean—yes, of course." I strain as pleasant a smile as I can manage. There's something different about Anthony's mother. Her demeanor demands me to call her mother, preferably with a capital M. And even if her physical appearance had been nourished by Ponce de Leon's Fountain of Youth, she looks too young to have a child Anthony's age.

"Anthony was very excited to have you visit," Maureen says.

Her warm smile puts me at ease, and I am much happier now that I know she won't be joining us. "I'm glad he invited me," I say. We walk through the foyer and into a hallway with ivory pillars.

"Mother, you didn't have to escort her in here; she can walk herself. It probably made her feel imposed upon," Anthony says as we enter the black and white kitchen. I notice how much more formal his tone is around Maureen. "Excuse my mother. She takes pride in treating our guests like hostages." He smiles, but I almost get the feeling he means it.

"Royalty—not hostages, and there's nothing wrong with that, is there?" Maureen says. "I wouldn't want your lovely guest to think that we're rude." She releases her arm from around me and I can finally breathe.

Anthony's wearing a cobalt blue dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, and it really brings out his blue eyes. It's the first time I've seen him in shorts and from the muscles in his legs, I can tell that he's an athlete.

"So you cook?" I ask, pushing my wavy, loose hair behind my ears. As he moves closer to me, the scent of my favorite men's cologne emanates around him.

"My mother taught me, but don't set your expectations too high. I made sandwiches by myself, and it's the first time." He laughs. "Let me show you around the house before we eat."

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Sonia," Maureen says and lightly touches my elbow. Then she nods faintly toward Anthony, almost like she's reminding him about something. Anthony grimaces so subtly that I wouldn't have noticed had I not been staring at him, and then he looks down at the floor.

"If you need anything, Anthony, I'll be working on some of my affairs in the parlor," Maureen says.

"Thank you, Mother," Anthony says coolly.

Maureen smiles at Anthony, but her smile isn't loving and there's something in her eyes that almost resembles annoyance and stress. From the corner of my eye, I detect that Anthony's face falls. Once Maureen has left, I turn to Anthony again.

"My mother's a very busy woman, please don't be offended."

"I'm not offended at all. Kind of relieved, actually." I raise my eyebrows and grin, hoping he won't pick up on that what I said was not a joke.

Anthony smiles back and laughs. Taking my arm in his, he leads me into the hallway, steering us toward the living room. My stomach tightens. "This is the main living room," he says. Off-white leather couches with zebra and orange pillows stand in the center of the room, facing a fireplace, which stands on the wall to the left of the hallway. There's also a large flat screen TV in the room. "That's the breakfast nook," he says, pointing to a huge room decorated with what looks like European art. In the center of the room stands a long rectangular oak table surrounded by tufted dark brown leather dining chairs. "Through that hallway is the family room with the entertainment center," he says, pointing.

I nod.

"I'll show you the upstairs after we eat, okay?" he says.

"Sounds great." I'm overwhelmed by the obvious wealth his family has managed to accumulate, especially since Maureen is a single mother. My mom is well-off because of the insurance money we received after my dad died and because of the money she has been able to save up over her lifetime, but this is another level of well-off.

"I trust it's all right that I invited you here. I thought it would be more relaxed than in a restaurant," Anthony says.

I don't want to be rude and tell him what I really think, so I just say, "It's great, thank you." We step outside onto the patio through the kitchen glass sliding doors, the wind softly caressing my face. Behind their home is a large murky lake, with lily pads and hot pink flowers floating on the surface.

"I hope you're not vegetarian or something like that. I forgot to ask." Anthony pulls out a wicker chair for me to sit. The table is decked to the nines, with white gold embellished china plates, wineglasses, sparkly silverware, and white linen napkins. He has really worked on this meal, I can tell, and he's definitely doing a great job in endearing me to him.

"No, I'm a meat-eater." I sit down and get comfortable.

He chuckles.

I'm a little suspicious about why he's suddenly started to treat me so well. Does he want something from me? Maybe I accidentally used my flair on him, and that's why he's acting like such a gentleman.

"Sorry again about Friday, I had to pick up a young lady after cheerleading practice." His smile grows wide and his eyes shine.

"Oh," I say, slighted that he's bringing up another girl, especially a cheerleader and is apparently very pleased about it.

"Yeah, my niece lives just north of here, almost in Bradenton. She's twelve."

I feel stupid for having misjudged Anthony and do my best to hide my blushing cheeks.

"Do you have any family around here?" He takes his seat across from mine and I try not to look at his muscular legs, so I focus on his eyes instead.

"No." I don't like talking about my family because I haven't met them yet, and wouldn't know how to explain it to Anthony. A white egret, flying past the screened-in lanai, catches my eye.

"Lemonade?" Anthony lifts the round glass pitcher and gestures to me.

"Yes, please." While he fills my glass, I notice his gold ring with a crest that looks like a lion's, holding an ax. Surrounding the lion is a serpent design.

"Where did you get your ring from? It's lovely."

"It's an old Norse ring." His eyes start blinking rapidly and he looks away. "So, no family?" he says.

I try not to grimace while wondering why he's still asking about my family.

"I enjoy learning about where people come from. Do you have any grandparents or aunts and uncles?"

"Well, no not really, it's just my mom and me," I say, sipping my drink. It's the perfect blend of sweet and sour. I don't think I should tell him about my newfound aunts. "That I know of anyway," I add.

"Your father doesn't have any siblings?" Anthony asks.

"No, what about you? Any family other than your family in Bradenton?"

"Actually, they're not really my blood-family. They've just been close friends of my mother's for a really long time." He holds up the plate filled with triangle cut sandwiches.

"Oh, okay." I grab a chicken salad sandwich off the serving platter and take a bite, hearing the lettuce crunch as I eat. Anthony runs his fingers through his hair, wondering why he really brought me here.

"Yes, there's a lot I could tell you, Sonia—about my life. I might not be as commonplace as you think." His eyes narrow and he stares at me.

What does that mean? Is he trying to attract me with a mysterious personality? Strangely enough, when I think about his approach, it kind of works, but I'm not going to let him know that. "Is that what you tell all your dates?" I tease.

Anthony laughs, but looks tense. "I don't date a lot."

I raise my right eyebrow, highly unconvinced by his statement.

"It's the truth." He seems a little peeved that I find it hard to believe him.

"Okay, then," I say, my tone playful. "I thought you said you had a date to prom."

He sighs, displeased. "Why do you have to be so...skeptical?"

I try to filter the words that come out of my mouth, but for some reason they just pour out. "Well, when you make such a ridiculous statement, do you expect me to just play along?"

"How are my statements ridiculous exactly? I don't question you when you said you don't have any extended family, even though it sounds outlandish and is highly improbable that you don't have anyone at all," he says.

He has a point. Should I concede? No. "Okay, let's just drop it and enjoy our lunch. I'm very grateful—and impressed—that you made such a lovely meal."

"I'll let it go for now," he says and looks out across the lake, a slight frown on his lips. "Are you finished with your sandwich? I want to show you my bedroom." He looks straight at me.

I must have tensed up because he notices.

"Don't flatter yourself. I just want to show you some of my Norse mythology finds. Is that all right with you?"

I kick myself again for having been so critical of him especially since the friendly atmosphere we started out with has disappeared. Maybe he isn't like all the other boys I've met—that I judged him to be like. "Sorry," I say, softening my voice. This date is turning into a disaster, and though I want to blame him, I suspect it has just as much to do with me.

Chapter 6

"This is my room." He opens the door into a space that looks like an apartment. There's a small kitchen to the right of the entrance with a fridge, microwave and dishwasher and to the left is a comfy-looking brown microfiber sectional with a matching ottoman. The plush carpet is a deep caramel color, and the desk in the corner is made of oak. Though I don't want to draw attention to the king sized bed through the archway on the right, I notice that it's dressed in a navy duvet with silver and cobalt blue pillows.

"Have a seat." Anthony gestures to the two russet leather chairs over in the intimate rotunda by the window. "I'm going to get my treasure chest," he says a little excitedly.

I set my purse on the floor in the small rotunda and sit down on one of the chairs, feeling the soft leather under my fingertips. The room offers a perfect view of the lake, and it seems to go on for about a mile. Ducks and their young waddle their way to the water and a few swans float ever so gracefully on the rippling surface.

Anthony comes back, carrying a small wooden chest.

"Oh, it really is a treasure chest," I say. "I didn't expect it to actually be a treasure chest." Norse writings cover the handmade box, vine-like plants and slithering serpents snake around the sides and the top. "It looks ancient." My interest is piqued. I always wondered what my mom's fascination with the Norse was all about, but now that I know I'm a Huldra, I'm becoming as fascinated as she.

"I don't know how old it is, but the designs date back to the Viking Age."

"Come on, you don't believe...it would be rotten by now..." I remember what he said earlier about me and stop myself from being skeptical again. "Cool!" I say quickly.

He sets the toaster-sized chest on top of one of the soccer magazines on the glass table situated between the two seats. The chest creaks when he opens it. I really want to see what's inside the chest and can't help myself from glancing around its lid to get a sneak peak.

"This is what I wanted to show you. You told me you like Norse mythology, and you specifically talked about Huldras."

He can be remarkably sweet when he wants to.

"So here you are." Anthony lifts a scroll up, unrolls it and shows me the picture on it. It looks like an old ink drawing of a beautiful woman with flowers in her long wavy hair. The woman is wearing a thin garment, almost Greek-looking in style, and underneath the woman are some markings similar to futhark—ancient Norse symbols.

"What does it say?" I ask, sitting on the edge of my seat. I tried to learn Futhark right before my dad died, but gave it up as other things took over in my life.

"Lady of the forest," Anthony says.

"So she's a—Huldra?" My heart jumps into my throat because that word has a whole different meaning to me than it did just a few days ago.

"Yes." He smiles.

"How old is the drawing?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he says, handing me the frayed scroll.

"Try me," I say, carefully accepting it.

"All right, the numbers on the bottom say one-zero-seven-nine."

"As in the year one thousand and seventy-nine?" I gasp.

"Yes." He looks proud.

I don't know if he's pulling my leg or if he's actually telling the truth. "How did you get your hands on this, exactly?" I wonder if my family in Minnesota also has similar types of drawings, or chests.

"My mother bought it in Norway at an auction. I'm not telling you how much she paid for it, though."

I believe that he believes that it's an original, but is it really authentic? "What do you know of Huldras?" I ask him carefully, curious to hear what his view of the seductive forest maidens is.

"Well, I'm not sure, but from what I've read, they have bark-covered backs, long animal tails, and seduce poor men into...well, pleasuring the Huldras for months on end, and if the men don't comply, the Huldra kills them."

I think I see him blush a little, like me. "Do you believe they actually exist?"

He looks me straight in the eyes and then says, "You'd be surprised if I told you how much I know of those creatures."

I keep my gaze steady in his and feel a chill surge through my spine as the air thickens.

He then looks out the window and our connection is broken. "But don't be ridiculous. They're just a myth, like trolls and fairies." He slumps back in his seat and crosses his right ankle just above his left knee. "Some man probably made up a lie because he was unable to stay faithful to his wife, and when she found out, he blamed it on the Huldra, saying that she had forced him into having an affair with her."

"Do you think the wives believed it?" I ask, trying hard to steady my trembling voice.

He looks back at me again, not quite as intense this time. "Probably not fully, but they didn't have a way to disprove it if they didn't." Anthony leans forward and closes the lid. There's something about the way he moves that mesmerizes me and I can't deny that my whole body yearns for his, but it's more than physical yearning. I want to control him, make him do what I want, make him do what I want...to me. Even though my mom warned me and I promised not to use my flair on anyone, I find my thoughts lingering on what might happen if I did use it on him. Could I get him to kiss me? Then I feel the guilt creep in and as much as I want to, I know that it would be wrong to use my flair on him for selfish purposes.

His hand brushes across my knee and a surge of desire overwhelms me. I want to kiss him, like I've never wanted to kiss anyone, and for him to be mine. My Huldra side is growing stronger by the day, by the minute, especially when I'm around Anthony, but I promised my mom I wouldn't use it, and deep down, I know I don't want a relationship with Anthony simply because I'm controlling him. "Here," I say, handing him back the scroll.

"You keep it for a day or two," he says, standing up. "Show your mom; I'm sure she'll like it."

I stand up, too. I feel honored, yet guarded, now suspecting that he definitely wants something in return. "I don't think I should."

"Well, I know where you go to school, and normally you are a good girl, except for when you spit in unsuspecting, but well-deserving girls' faces." He grins.

I want to punch him in the arm, but he's too far away. "You knew all along!" His comments almost make me think that he's been watching me for a while before we ever even met. No, that would be too strange and creepy. Anthony doesn't seem like a stalker.

"Of course I know. Principal Jenkins shares everything with me." He looks happy with himself, as he cracks a smug little smile.

"So, is Principal Jenkins like your puppet now?" I ask.

"No, I'd never call him that." He laughs. "Maybe a little, but we both benefit from our...agreement."

Before I can ask him what he means, my phone buzzes in my purse and I stoop to search for it. Finding it, I check the screen and see that I missed a call from Ashley, and that it's ten minutes until I'm supposed to meet her at the Mall to get a dress for the prom. Crap! "Well, it's been a pleasure, Anthony, but I have another appointment I have to get to." I don't really want to leave, but I'll be darned if I cancel an appointment with Ashley for she would never let me forget it.

Anthony moves up in front of me and blocks my way out of the rotunda. My immediately pulse quickens. I look up into his spellbinding eyes and have to catch my breath as blood rushes to my head. My stomach flutters like mad and I really enjoy being this close to him—only a foot away. He takes a small step toward me and now he's standing only a few inches away. I wonder if he feels the electricity between us like I do, but it's more than that. The way I feel about him is like the beginning of an obsession, and I'm not sure whether or not it truly is me, or even if I like it. It's almost too intense.

"Thanks for coming. I hope—" He grows serious. "I hope we can be great—" He steps so close to me that I can feel his breath on my face. I hold my breath, afraid, no not afraid, only anxious and excited about what might happen, and though I'm not quite sure what's happening between us, I'm acutely aware that every particle in my body responds to him.

Then my mind starts racing when I think about how much I want him, to kiss his lips, to feel his hands on my body. Would he be worth having around for eternity? Maybe. No. Absolutely. Something takes over, and it's not the rational part of me. The will to put on the brakes is lost in his eyes, and it's as if the Huldra in me takes over, preventing me from having reasonable thoughts. If I leave just a hint of my saliva on him, he might want me more. It would be wrong, but I can't stop myself now—I have to go through with it. I raise myself up onto my tiptoes and kiss him gently on the cheek, leaving a trace of wetness. I don't expect him to react the way he does, but I can tell from his reaction that he definitely likes the kiss—a lot. He swings me around, pushes me up against the wall by my shoulders, locking me immobile, and stares into my eyes. My heart is pounding in my chest and I want him to kiss me on the lips, but instead, he leans down and kisses my collarbone. Then he kisses a trail up my neck and I lift my chin to give him space. I moan. His eyes fall upon my lips and then his fingers press against them. His breath is shallow, his lips parted, his eyes—hungry.

Releasing my shoulder and lips, he grabs my hips and presses them back and up against the wall. Then his hands continue around to my back and for a moment he hesitates, and doesn't seem certain about what to do.

He pulls back, looks at me and then looks away. "I'm sorry, I...I don't know what came over me," he says and picks up the scroll on the table. "Here, I'll walk you downstairs." He stands to the side, waiting for me to pass.

I feel excited, disappointed, shocked even, but something has awakened in me that I've never felt before, and I absolutely love it.

Chapter 7

I see Ashley in the distance, standing outside of a department store, talking on her phone. Once I arrive, she hangs up and we hug.

"So, how was your lunch date?" she asks. We head into the department store toward the formal dress section.

"It was good. Anthony made chicken salad sandwiches and lemonade," I say.

She gives me a blank stare. "I don't care about the food. How was Anthony?"

I smile like it was just another lunch appointment. "He's good." I nod as casually as I can, pretending that my heart doesn't beat twice as fast at the mention of his name. Thinking back to the moment when I kissed him on the cheek and he kissed me on the collarbone makes me weak in the knees, but it also strikes me with guilt because I shouldn't have given into my urge to kiss him. Sadly, now I'll never know whether or not he likes me for me, and not because my flair is controlling him. I really wish I was just a normal girl.

"Are you going to make me pry out the information? Give me the juicy details, Sonia." We arrive at the formal dress section and Ashley leafs through the dresses like she's a professional shopper.

I laugh. "We had a great time. He didn't kiss me, but we hugged."

"That's sweet." Her rounded eyebrows rise.

"Yeah, it was." I refrain from telling her the rest of what happened and that it was the most romantic experience of my life so far, and that all I want is to be back in his room with his arms wrapped around my waist.

"So did you ask your mom about the prom yet?"

"No, I thought I'd get my dress first, and then maybe if she sees how great I look in it, she'll let me go."

Ashley nods proudly. "Now you're talking."

"What about the other stags?" I ask. "Are any of them going?"

"Yes, they all think it's a great idea."

I wish I were going with Anthony, for after what happened today, I know I'll get jealous when I see him dancing with another girl.

"What's the matter?" Ashley asks.

"What? Oh, nothing." I mumble.

"Yeah, right, you look like you've just been told the world is going to end!"

Part of me wants to accept another boy's invitation just so I don't have to be so alone and focus on Anthony with his date all night. "If I said yes to one of the guys who asked me—" I let my voice trail off as I rummage through the dresses.

"What do you mean you would say yes? Just so you could make Anthony jealous?"

I know it sounds bad, but I still nod.

"Seriously?" Her expression turns judgmental. "Sonia, you know I love you, right?"

"Yes." I feel a lecture coming on.

"That suggestion is just cruel."

"How cruel?"

"Think of it like this. If Anthony went to the prom with you just so he could be close to another girl he liked better than you—"

I interrupt her. "Okay, okay, I see what you mean. I'm ashamed."

Ashley laughs. "Good, at least you have some sense of conscience, though you are a little selfish sometimes."

I frown, wishing I wasn't that way, but I know she's right—especially lately. Things have just gotten to be so confusing, and my relationship with my mom has become extremely challenging. My mom and I have a very open relationship, or so I thought, and now I just think she's been keeping way too many secrets, and it's probably way worse than I suspected. I'm almost eighteen—practically an adult; I have the right to go to the prom. I look at Ashley.

"What?" she says.

I throw my head back and sigh. "Sometimes I just wish I was someone else."

"All girls do at some point, I'm sure. If you really want me to cover for you and you go with one of the guys, I'll do it."

I consider it for a moment, but decide against it. "No, you're right, it would be extremely cruel."

Chapter 8

"I'll let you go to the prom on a few conditions." My mom's face is flushed and she's frowning. I know that my mom isn't upset about the money I spent, even though my prom dress cost almost a thousand dollars. No, she's upset because I disobeyed her and made plans to go to the prom without her consent.

"I understand that you want this to be a part of your life experience—I get that. Prom is important and maybe I've been too strict on you. So, you may go solo, but you must promise me that you won't kiss anyone," she says.

"Okay," I say with some surprise, since convincing her was much easier than I anticipated, but I can barely look her in the eyes, afraid she might see right through me that I kissed Anthony on the cheek.

"One more thing, you have to be home by midnight," she says.

"Midnight? What, is this like Cinderella or something? That's ridiculous. Mom, I won't kiss anyone even if I stay out until 6:00 a.m. three days after the prom, I promise." I re-commit myself to not kissing anyone, at least not until I turn eighteen. I'm still not going to mention that just earlier today I kissed Anthony on the cheek and that he kissed me on my collarbone and that now he's under my thrall. I feel a pang of regret, but can't help that the edges of my lips involuntarily curve upward at the thrilling memory.

"This isn't a joke!" My mom's voice is trembling with fury. I'm a little shocked because she's usually very calm, so much so that I've often wondered if she feels anything at all.

"Sonia, trust me, you don't understand the strong and uncontrollable urges you'll begin to experience as you near your eighteenth birthday. I'm sure you have already started to notice them a little, but these next two weeks will be the hardest. You could lose control and cause a lot of damage, and you don't want to play with that kind of fire, for it will come back to haunt you for the rest of your life."

I think back to the moment with Anthony, and I certainly have tasted some of the wickedly awesome urges that my Huldra side has brought out in me. I convince myself I'll be able to control them if I really put my mind to it. Besides, it's different with Anthony—he has been the only one so far who has brought the passionate impulses out in me, but since he won't be my prom date anyway, not kissing anyone on the prom night should be a breeze—no problem.

"You won't be able to control your impulses to, excuse my bluntness, seduce young men if you find any of them even remotely attractive and if that happens, there will be a lot of unfortunate events afterwards. Trust me, you do not want to go down that path," my mom says.

"Why are you so vague all the time? Can't you just tell me so I understand?" It angers me that I'm always in the dark. "What difference does a few days make in explaining this to me?"

"No, I can't tell you. It has to happen during the ceremony in Kensington, and in the right order. If you won't agree to the terms of the prom, you're not allowed to go, and that's final."

I know my mom won't budge on this. "Fine!" I grab my prom dress and march to my room. What does she really know about being a teenager in this day and age anyway?

In my room, I angrily stuff the dress into the closet and pull out a book. As soon as I open it, my phone rings and I answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me, Anthony. Got a minute?"

Rolling over onto my back, I start playing with the ends of my hair. I feel a flutter in my stomach that appears every time I'm around Anthony. "Sure," I say, my heart beating more fervently. I can't help but smile because my flair must have worked on him though I'm not sure if I'm happy or upset with myself about it.

"I wanted to apologize for earlier—I don't know what came over me, but I hope we can still be friends?"

Immediately, all the happiness is sucked out of me. "Was it that disappointing?" I kick myself for talking before thinking, but his comment stings. He's apologizing? Didn't he feel the attraction between us—and what happened to my Huldra flair? Surely I must have left enough saliva on his cheek to have him want me, even just a little. I do feel slightly relieved, I must admit, but I also feel as though I have failed as a Huldra. "I mean...yeah, I guess what happened was somewhat of out of the blue." I flip over onto my stomach, squeeze my eyes shut and press my palm to my forehead.

"So just friends then?" he asks, sounding unsure of himself. Maybe it's my flair kicking in.

I don't want to answer him, but the words have to be spoken. "Sure, whatever—"

"Good, and I think it's best if we don't work together anymore either—on the weeding, so I'll just take it from here." He almost sounds happy about his decision. I'm speechless. What happened? "Is that all right?" Anthony says, now sounding surer of himself.

Then an idea suddenly flashes through my mind. I want to try and see if my kiss actually worked, to see if my Huldra flair is as powerful as my mom and dad said. Maybe I have to request or demand something from him so he knows what I want? "Hey, I really want for us to continue to work together on the weeding until we're finished, okay?"

It goes silent on the other end.

"Hello?" I say.

He makes a faint grunting sound. "I...don't think it's a good idea, Sonia. We should really just be friends from here on out. Besides, you probably need to focus on your homework, don't you?" He emphasizes the "don't you" part of his statement.

How dare he tell me what to do, and did he just use homework as a deflector? It's the lamest escape-line I've heard—ever. Not only that, he flatly rejected my proposal. I wonder if maybe my powers only work in person. I decide to be all right with his rejection for now, considering that it's the only option I have at the moment. I'll try to see if my flair worked again after school on Monday in person, and maybe I'll dress up a little, just to make sure he notices me. I huff at my lame plan, but then I think: is this my plan, or my inner Huldra's plan? Usually I'm a very relaxed person like my mom, but it seems like I'm a completely different individual now, trying to seduce Anthony. I hate this new me, yet—I love this new me. I sigh at the thought, remembering the warnings my dad gave me, knowing he would be ashamed of me for acting this way.

"Fine, no worries." I scrunch my eyes shut.

"Really?"

"Really, anything you say, Anthony." I sit up. "Have a great weekend." I don't want to admit it, but his rejection has hurt me pretty badly, and I don't know exactly how I'll get through Sunday and all of school on Monday before I see him again.

"Yeah, you too, and maybe I'll see you around," he says.

"Yeah." I hang up the phone and let myself fall into the pillows on my bed. My Huldra flair isn't working on him like it did on Savannah. Maybe I need to give it more time. Maybe it has to be past midnight or something before the magic kicks in or maybe I should just be glad that it didn't work and that I have a chance to do the right thing, which is to stay away from him.

* * *

Sunday seems like the longest day of my entire existence. I stay busy with homework, and even help my mom mop all the floors in the house, and then I head to Siesta Beach with Ashley to kill some time. The thought of Anthony is in the back of my mind all day; when I do my homework, he's there; and when I mop the floors, he's there. I want to understand what's happening to me—if I'm attracted to him because I genuinely am interested in him or just because I'm going through a phase as a Huldra so I'm compelled to like him. I want to believe the former, but I worry that it could be the latter.

"Hey—what's up with you?" Ashley asks. The sand that feels like powdered-sugar stretches on for miles and long orange and peach clouds streak the blue sky as the sunset approaches. It's hot outside and I see beads of sweat on Ashley's forehead. I'm glad I don't sweat.

"I've asked you three times now, and you pretend like everything's okay, but you should know by now that I know you better than to believe you."

"What? What you said doesn't even make any sense," I say. "You lost me at 'you should.'"

"I don't care if it makes sense or not because I know you know what I mean." Ashley digs her blood red polished toenails into the sand. "Does your mood have anything to do with, what's his bucket, Anthony?"

"Yes," I admit begrudgingly. I need a confidante and know that it's either Ashley or my mom and there's no way I'm going to tell my mom that I'm interested in a boy. "Yesterday at lunch, I actually kissed him on the cheek."

"So now the truth comes out," she says. "Anything else?"

Our eyes connect.

"You can tell me everything, you know. I won't tell your mom or anyone else."

I know I can trust Ashley to keep quiet. "He kissed me on the collarbone." I pause. "It was the most romantic experience of my life."

She laughs heartily. "Wow, that's great, but we have really got to get you some more action if that truly was the most romantic experience of your life."

I laugh, half-terrified at the thought of getting more action with Anthony, half-overwrought by excitement. I hardly dare think the thought; it's too risky, too delicious. My mom would skin me alive.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Ashley pushes me so I have to catch myself from falling face first into the white sand. I don't really like the beach for the reason that there's sand everywhere, and I can never get rid of it. It's like a magnet, sticking to everything for months after.

"I don't know. My mom is so paranoid about me kissing anyone that I just wanted to keep it a secret." I rub my hands together, trying to get rid of the sand.

"You know I'd never tell your mom."

"I know you wouldn't," I say.

Ashley's eyes sparkle with mischief. "But you want to kiss him, don't you?"

I glance at Ashley and then back at the sand. "Yes," I say faintly, my eyebrows furrowing. I want to kiss him a lot more than I'm willing to admit and it's so stupid because I just met the guy.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're upset about him kissing you?" A puzzled look crosses her face.

"Well, after I got home, he called me and apologized for what happened." I tuck my knees under my chin and wrap my arms around my legs. I feel vulnerable admitting to this and I hadn't anticipated how much rejection would hurt.

"What? Why?"

"He says we can only be friends and that we shouldn't even keep weeding together," I say.

Ashley's eyes widen and she gasps. "What a jerk!"

"I don't think he's a jerk. I just think he's confused," I say.

"Oh puh-lease, don't make excuses for him. He knows what he's doing. He probably has a girlfriend—the one he's taking to the prom—and just wants to flirt with you because he thinks you're beautiful, like all the boys at our high school do, and then plans to, after he conquers you, dump you and get back with his girlfriend, pretending nothing ever happened between you two."

I look at Ashley, wide-eyed and in shock. I had never thought of that. "You think?"

"Maybe," Ashley says, looking out onto the blue ocean. "You like him a lot?"

"Yes." For the first time in history, I'm the girl with her heart exposed, the pathetic girl who can think of nothing else but Anthony, and it is pathetic, because I barely even know him. I shouldn't feel sorry for myself. I should be tougher than this, but for some reason Anthony has completely spellbound me.

"What happened to 'I'll never fall for anyone?'" Ashley says, quoting what I said just a few weeks ago.

Before I can respond, a volleyball collides with my skull.

"Ouch!" I exclaim, standing up.

"Sorry, miss, I didn't mean to—"

Anthony stands in front of me in nothing but his beach shorts. "Hello Anthony." I try not to stare at his sculpted physique and I hone in on his blue eyes instead. That doesn't prevent my heart from pounding and my cheeks from blushing.

"I didn't expect to meet you here," he says. "Sorry about the volleyball. Are you okay?"

Anthony reaches for my head, but I knock his hand away. "I'm fine," I say, but what I really want to say is: 'Looks like you suck at volleyball just as much as you do at making late night phone calls.' I don't bother though, knowing what a lame comeback that would be.

"Is this a friend of yours?" Anthony asks, gesturing to Ashley.

"Yes. This is my best friend Ashley. Ashley, this is Anthony. The weed guy."

"Thanks for the compliment, Sonia." Anthony chuckles and reaches his hand out to greet her.

I smile sarcastically.

Ashley doesn't take his hand, but crosses her arms in front of her chest instead. "Anthony? Do you know him? I've never heard of him." Her hazel eyes glare at him with the power to melt metal, and I'm pleased to see how uncomfortable he is under her unrelenting scrutiny. I know I can always count on Ashley to have my back.

If I had known I'd bump into Anthony today, I would have made a plan to see if my flair had worked on him, but improvising on the spot will do no good—especially since I'm unable to focus because he's so ridiculously distracting with his shirt off. I glance at him from the corner of my eye when he turns around to look for someone. His back is broad and he has a tattoo of a beast on his right shoulder, and though I can't tell what kind of a beast it is, it looks dangerous.

Anthony picks up the volleyball, turns around again and smiles at me like he's really happy to see me. "Come join us," he says, bouncing the volleyball in his hand. I'm tempted to accept, but before I can give an answer, a blonde girl in a tiny lavender bikini shows up and grabs his arm.

"Come on, Anthony, we're waiting for you," she says, pulling him along. Of course she has to be gorgeous and have a body that looks like she paid for it.

Bimbo. My jaw tenses and I have to do everything in my power to not say something rude. Deep down, I know it's not a fair assessment, and I wonder whether it's my own jealousy that makes me hate her so suddenly or if being a Huldra has this kind of effect on my emotions.

"No thanks, we'll pass," I say, squeezing my hands into my faded jean short pockets. I've never really been good at sports. Well, that's not totally true. I'm not good at team sports, but for some reason, I never miss a goal whether I'm throwing, batting or kicking a ball. But either way, my passion is for classical ballet, though I've taken a break from it my senior year to focus on getting my grades up.

Anthony squints at me for a second, his eyes almost looking like they care. "We'd really like for you to come join us," he says as if I hadn't heard him the first time.

"No," I say so firmly that the bimbo by his side jumps. Then she looks at me like I'm mass-producing spit bubbles like an angry crab or something.

For a split second, Anthony looks shocked, but he quickly regains his cool demeanor. "See you at school then." He jogs off. In the distance he glances back at me one more time and seems to be baffled by the fact that I turned him down.

"What a prick!" Ashley yells. Then she says at a normal volume, "I told you that's what he was up to, but he's hot though. Really hot. Maybe you can just chalk the whole experience up to a steamy encounter, no strings attached?"

I don't want to admit it, but Ashley's probably right. Why does the first guy I'm attracted to have to be the maestro of all players? I should have known that he was that type of guy. The signs are all there, but I thought maybe he was different, especially since I, a Huldra, am attracted to him.

Why did my plan fail so miserably? Why didn't my kiss work? I think back to the meeting with Principal Jenkins where my mom only had to grace her finger with saliva and touch Principal Jenkins's hand and then he conformed to her wishes nicely and in an instant. I, however, planted a kiss on Anthony's cheek, so it should have been more potent. Maybe it's harder to use my flair than I thought, or maybe there's such a thing as an immune human.

Chapter 9

Back home, I pick at my dinner plate with my fork. Homemade lasagna is usually one of my favorite meals, but today, not even ice cream for dinner would have tempted me. I want to ask my mom about Anthony and why my flair didn't work on him, figuring that maybe it's different when I use my flair on a boy. I know my mom would be furious if I admitted to kissing a boy, even if it was only on the cheek, but if I don't tell her, I might never find out.

"You don't have to keep sulking over my decision about the prom. It's not going to make me change my mind." My mom sits down next to me. She's been unusually moody since she found out that her sister vanished and the Huldras were killed. I don't blame her; I just wish there was something I could say to help her through this tough time, but I have a hard time finding the right words.

"That's not why I'm upset," I say.

"No?"

"No. I'm just tired, that's all." I look out the window, over the man-made lake behind our house. The lake is smooth, with nearly no disturbances on its glass-like surface.

"Do you feel sick?" she asks.

"Maybe." I should skip school on Monday. It will be embarrassing if I meet Anthony in the hallway, especially if he's with that blonde bimbo. I even consider skipping school for the rest of the year and just leave for Kensington. "I've been thinking about Kensington."

"Yes?"

"I guess I'm kind of excited to go." I'm not too excited, but there's not much for me here in Sarasota at the moment and I think getting away will feel good.

"Oh?" My mom's eyes light up and she sounds pleased.

"I have a question for you, but it's kind of random," I finally say.

"Sure, go ahead." She takes a bite of lasagna.

"I've been wondering, are there any people who are immune to a Huldra's flair? I mean, if they were just really strong-minded individuals or something that make them different from the average person?"

She smiles. "Well, if there are, I've never met one."

"What about you and Dad? I know you were in love, but wasn't he immune?" I ask.

"Yes, but that was because I gave him the antidote even before we shared our first kiss," she says.

"What's the antidote?" I think my mom will dodge my question, like she has so many times before.

She pauses and takes a sip of her white wine. "I suppose it can't hurt if I tell you now. It's not part of the ceremony, so I don't think I'd be breaking any rules by telling you. The antidote comes from the Tree of Life."

"Like the Tree of Life from the Bible?" I have heard about it in religion class, and I lean forward, eager to hear more.

She nods. "Yes, the very one." She traces the edges of her wine glass with her middle finger.

"But no one knows where the tree is," I say, not really knowing if that's a fact or not.

My mom smiles. "That's true, but we still have the elixir."

"So are Huldras the only ones who have that elixir?" I'm trying to figure out if Anthony might have it. He does seem very into Huldras, since he had a drawing of one in his treasure chest.

"Yes, only the Huldras received it," she says.

I gather that Anthony definitely doesn't have the elixir then, so my question remains unanswered. Why hasn't he responded to me? Maybe there's something wrong with me. "So, is there a way I could lose my flair?"

"No, of course not. It's something you're born with. You can't lose your genetic code, now can you?"

"I guess not." Then I have an idea. "Savannah hasn't been as...subservient as I thought she'd be."

My mom's eyebrows rise. "Oh?"

"No, I asked her to do me a favor, and she rejected me," I say with a huff.

She squints her eyes. "Are you sure you were clear in your communication with her?"

"Yes, crystal clear." I've been very clear with Anthony, and he still rejected me—majorly.

"That does sound suspicious. The only other beings that are immune to a Huldra are other Huldras."

I feel like I've got my mom on a roll now and I hope she tells me more. Well Anthony's a guy, so he can't be a Huldra, but then a thought pops into my mind. "There aren't any guy Huldras, are there?"

"There have been eleven that we have known of in the history of the world, but five of them mysteriously vanished and the rest of them died during wars throughout history. They're called Huldus."

Is it possible that Anthony is a Huldu? The thought seems almost too far-fetched.

"I've never met one, but my sister has," my mom says. "The one who went mi—" She doesn't finish the sentence, but her bottom lip starts trembling. She takes a deep breath as if to compose herself and continues. "Contrary to what myths say, Huldus are not ugly at all. Supposedly, they are as stunningly handsome as Huldras are beautiful and even Huldras find them irresistible."

That's the only explanation that fits so far and even though it sounds outlandish and highly improbable, I'm going to find out if Anthony is indeed a Huldu. I take my mom's hand in mine and squeeze it gently. "I really hope they find your sister...my aunt."

Chapter 10

On Monday, school can't end soon enough because I obsess all day about Anthony and the possibility of him being a Huldu. Normally I'm a serious student, but today, I'm not able to pay attention to the teachers in the least. Most students seem restless and are ready for summer vacation, so I suppose I fit in.

I've convinced myself that there's definitely a possibility that Anthony's a Huldu. There's no other explanation for him not responding to my flair and perhaps he has even tried to get me to respond to his flair. I smirk. We could be playing the same game, he and I, and that might be why he invited me to his house and kissed me on the collarbone. I remember him seeming very surprised when I didn't submit to his request to join him for volleyball. Maybe he acted that way because his flair didn't work on me. It's a stretch, but a stretch I'm willing to investigate further. All these things can't just be coincidences, can they? Now I just have to put my theory to the test.

When the day is finally over, I lock myself in the girl's handicapped bathroom stall, change my clothes, undo my hair, letting it fall down my back and shoulders, and apply some more make-up. When I'm finished, I stare at myself in the full-length mirror. What am I doing? This is ridiculous—desperate, even. I'm wearing an ivory mini skirt, a teal camisole top, that shows a little of my cleavage, and cork and leather wedges. I never dress like this, but then I remember that I need to do this or I may never know if Anthony is like me and it will drive me crazy not knowing. I spray on a dash of perfume, and I'm ready to approach Anthony. No matter what happens, I promise myself that after today, I'll stop this insanity and stick to the promise I made to my mom.

I head over to the greenhouse, feeling self-conscious about my skimpy outfit, but knowing I need to act confidently, if I want some answers. As I near the glasshouse, I spot Anthony inside. My stomach turns into a million little butterflies at the sight of him and I take a deep breath before opening the squeaky front door. I remind myself of my purpose and to stay focused and not get distracted by him.

When I enter, Anthony immediately looks up at me, but doesn't even so much as nod to acknowledge me once our eyes meet.

"We're not working together anymore." He doesn't even seem to notice my outfit I worked so hard to put together.

"I'm not here to weed." I roll my eyes. "Did you really think I'd be weeding in this outfit and these shoes?" I say, just to draw a little more attention to my ensemble.

"Then why are you here?" He grunts as he lifts a huge plastic bag up onto a wood dolly.

He's being difficult, but that doesn't deter me at all, and in fact brings out the competitive side in me. "I'm here...to talk." I sound sure of myself, but I'm nothing of the sort.

"I don't have time to talk." He lifts another bag up onto the dolly. "I have to get to my soccer practice after this."

"Then when do you have time to talk?" I ask, taking a step closer.

Anthony exhales sharply and looks me in the eyes. "Never."

Never? Why is he acting so standoffish? I must have done something wrong for him to never want to talk to me again. "You said we could be friends," I press.

"Well, I changed my mind. I have a girlfriend now, and she doesn't like you."

I feel like he just punched me in the stomach. A girlfriend? "How could she not like me? She doesn't even know me, and if you're referring to the blonde beach bimbo, you might want to get—"

He interrupts me. "Just let me be, okay? I'd like for nothing more than for you to leave me alone right now—and forever."

"Why?" I'm trying to act like his words don't affect me, but each word is another torrent of pain.

"I don't have to explain that to you," he says, brushing the dirt off his khaki pants and then he runs his fingers through his hair.

I take a deep breath to help bolster my resolve. "You're not going to get rid of me, you know. I'm not about to follow your orders like all those other girls." My boldness strengthens with each word and I compel my mind to focus on one thing: I must find out if he's like me.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says in an annoyed tone.

"Sure you don't," I say sarcastically, taking another step toward him as I lick my lips. I'm in the zone now—a zone where I'm intent on getting what I want, when I want it, which is right now.

Anthony pauses for a moment, looking as if he's trying to formulate a sentence in his mind. Then he shakes his head and laughs. "You're different from other girls, I'll give you that."

I chuckle for a moment, too, because this is really a comic situation. "Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?" I ask.

"It's... neither. It just is, okay? Why are you pestering me so much?" he grumbles.

That comment hurt, and I blink. My confidence is swept away by his unkind words.

"I'm sorry, that was mean. I'm not used to girls who are so—" He pauses for so long, I think he might never complete the sentence, but I truly want to know what he thinks of me.

"So...?" I press.

"So honest." Our eyes connect and chills go through my body.

"Honest?"

He folds his arms in front of his chest and his veins are visible beneath his skin. He looks away and I notice that I've stopped breathing for a moment. "Most girls seem to just say what they think I want to hear, but you," he scratches his head, "you just blurt things out, and it drives me crazy! You drive me absolutely crazy."

"Don't you want people to be honest with you?"

"Well, not brutally honest." He glances at me as if accusing me.

Focus Sonia! I came in here for a purpose. He has a tendency to do that to me; make me want him, and forget what I want; make me weak in the knees and weak-willed; make my heart race and my mind forgetful. "Why are you so interested in Norse mythology?" I ask.

"What? Where did that question come from?" he sneers.

"I don't have to explain everything to you," I say, using his comment against him.

The edges of his lips turn upward. "I see how it is."

"All right, I'll tell you. There's a reason why I'm so interested in Norse mythology, and I'm wondering if we have the same reason or not." I don't want to be more direct than that and if he's a Huldu, he'll pick up on my hint.

"Are your ancestors from Norway, too?" he asks.

"Yes." But, of course, that isn't the reason I want to hear and now I think that maybe he's just playing with me. How can I encourage him to tell the truth without revealing too much myself? I step forward, so he's only an arm's length away and there's a charge between us. His body tenses, making me think that he might be feeling the charge too.

He hesitates for a heartbeat, but then moves closer to me. I like him being near to me, nearer yet. Reaching for my cheek, he graces it softly, and then his eyes are on my lips. "I've never met anyone like you, Sonia." His eyes lock with mine.

I love the sound of my name on his lips. "What do you mean?" Now my focus is dwindling, my mind is shutting off, and the thrill of standing close to him has made me forget the reason why I came to see him in the first place.

He doesn't answer my question, but instead, he reaches behind my head, to the sensitive area in the nape of my neck, and pulls my face so close I can smell his minty breath. I bite my lip and breathe heavily.

"You are like me," I whisper. "Aren't you?"

No response. He just peers into my eyes, as if trying to read them and then he moves his face closer and kisses me gently on the cheek, just missing my mouth. His other hand makes its way up along my arm and joins the other behind my neck, my skin tingling where he touches it. Pulling me in even closer, he leans his forehead onto mine.

"Why do you have to be so stubborn?" he asks.

I try to tell him that he's the one who's being stubborn, but the words get caught in my throat.

He moves me backward and presses my hips up against the flowerbed so it creaks. His hands make their way down my back and I pull my hands up to his face and cradle it. Why is he refusing to answer my questions? He's not denying what I'm saying, so my theory must be true.

I feel in his embrace that he wants me and an irrepressible need wells up inside my abdomen. I have never felt anything like it before. I want him. I want his love, his affection, his mind and his body, and I want him to want me as much as I want him. Then the thought comes—I want to control him so he'll do what I want. This sudden thought frightens me and I manage to turn my head to the side and look away.

"Stop." I know that if I don't stop now, it will be too late. Too late for what, I don't want to think about, but my instincts tell me that I've reached my capacity for self-control.

Anthony stops and gives me a soft squeeze. "I'm dangerous, you know." He smiles.

"Yeah, I believe you." Was that an admission to being a Huldu? It isn't enough to convict him.

I step away, in an attempt to regain my faculties. My hands feel clammy, though I thought I was incapable of sweating—anywhere, yet here I am with sweaty palms. "So are you going to answer the question?"

"Sorry, can you repeat the question, please?" Anthony smiles.

I turn around and face him. "Are you like me?" My voice, just above a whisper.

"How do you mean?" His eyes are almost too innocent looking to be read as real. He steps away.

"What happens when you kiss people?" I try.

He smiles, but says nothing.

I huff, knowing he isn't going to admit it. Not this way, at least. "Never mind, I have to go."

"Strange, I thought I was the one who needed to hurry, but you didn't seem to care a minute ago." His voice is playful.

I shoot him a don't-play-games-with-me glance and head to the exit. "See you later."

"Hey, do you want go see the Sarasota Ballet perform Sleeping Beauty tomorrow night?"

I'm speechless yet again because he's so back and forth with me that my head won't stop spinning. Maybe he isn't any good for me.

"You like ballet, right?" Anthony asks, as if reading my mind.

"Yes, but do you?" No guy that I've ever spoken to will step within a mile of a ballet performance.

"Sure, especially if my date enjoys it," Anthony says.

How does he know that I like ballet? I don't remember telling him. "What about your girlfriend? Won't she get upset?" I ask.

Looking away, he says, "I just said that so you'd leave me alone."

"You lied to me? Why would you do such a thing?"

He frowns. "I thought it would make things easier. I'm sorry."

"Easier? Lying to me makes things easier?" I take a few steps in his direction—angry again.

"My life is really complicated, Sonia. If you only knew...I wish I could tell you everything, but I can't."

This is exhausting. "Are we back to mysterious Anthony again? Trust me, if you want to share your craziness with anyone, I'd be the first one to understand, and I'm really trying to understand."

"Listen, I'm sorry, all right?"

My better judgment tells me that I should stay away from Anthony and that I should run away and never look back, mainly because I can't trust him, and because I can't trust myself around him. He has even told me straight out that he's dangerous and if I were smart, I should believe him. Even so, I can't let him go for I need to be with him no matter the cost. "All right," I say. "I forgive you."

"So, will you come with me to the ballet—please?" He's sincere.

"Sure, I'll come," I say and shut the door behind me.

Walking to my car, I never would have thought that my confrontation with him would have ended this way. I had hoped for a confession, not a passionate encounter and a date to the ballet. It almost feels as if he has me pegged in every possible way, and the thought both thrills me senseless and frightens me out of my mind.

Chapter 11

I change back to my school outfit in the car, all the while cursing under my breath, thinking I'm never going to dress like that again. Then I head home to finish an English paper that's past due. Homework has been a bother lately.

My mom approaches me right as I open the front door. I doubt she's been waiting because she missed me; it seems more as though she's been hovering like a vulture, waiting for me to come home and attack me with some new information that she has kept from me.

"I need to talk to you, young lady," she says.

I was right. I know that when my mom calls me 'young lady,' it isn't a good thing. "Okay, just let me put my stuff in my room." I throw my backpack onto my unmade bed, meander into the kitchen and sit on a barstool by the counter. My mom leans against the island, disappointed. "So, what's going on with you?" There's no way that she knows about Anthony—is there? I try to act casual, though all the muscles in my body tense up.

"One of your teachers called me today," she says, glaring at me.

"Oh?" I try to sound as clueless as I can, fearing that this might be really bad.

"She says you haven't been yourself this last week, so much so that she felt the need to call me today."

"Oh?" I clear my throat and paste on a smile.

"Want to tell me what's going on?" she presses.

"Nothing's going on. I guess I just haven't been able to manage my time like I wanted to."

"What else?" She puts her hands on her hips. "I'm giving you a chance to confess before I share with you what Ms. Greenfield told me."

Maybe she knows about Anthony. I groan inwardly. I don't want to give away any more information than I need to, but I know my mom will be more lenient on me if I'm truthful. "Mom, I really like this guy named Anthony." I admit, hoping that's enough.

"And?" My mom paces around the kitchen island with her hands on her hips.

"And he wants to take me to go see the ballet tomorrow."

"Well that's nice, but do you really think that Ms. Greenfield would call me based on the information you just gave me?" She glares at me again.

"No." I lower my eyes. Why would Ms. Greenfield call? Did she see me dressed in my revealing outfit today? "Well, I did go visit Anthony, and I brought an extra change of...clothes to go see him," I say, hoping, no, dying for that to be enough information.

"What kind of clothes?" She starts pacing again.

"Kind of...skimpy," I squeak.

"You know your school has a dress code, right?"

"Yes—I guess I just got carried away because I really like this guy. And it was after school so I didn't think it would matter. There's something different about him, and I wanted to impress him." Which is true.

"And you know the rules against kissing someone and using your flair on someone, right?" Her voice is unforgiving.

"Absolutely, and I will not break that rule, I promise, but I see no harm in dating him."

"Just hold off on dating for a few more months. I promise you'll soon understand why it's so important."

I want to defy her, want to rebel at such a ridiculous rule, but instead I clamp my lips closed and scowl.

She stops pacing and crosses her arms in front of her chest. "Listen, you're nearing your eighteenth birthday. Gosh, it's next week already, so I understand that your flair is almost controlling you. Trust me, I get that."

"Do you, Mom? I mean, it's been like what, twenty years since you went through it?" I say.

"Try six thousand years," she corrects.

"Yeah, right."

She stares at me, her face is hard like a stone.

"Six thousand years?" I say in a mocking tone, but then I suddenly realize that she might actually mean it. "Six thousand years?" My mouth pops open.

"I know. I'm rather old, aren't I?" She sighs.

"You've lived for—?"

"Six thousand years," she finishes my question and her eyebrows rise.

"But—how can someone live that long?" I'm in shock. "You don't look like you're that...old! Sorry."

She chuckles. "Yes, it has been a long time, but Sonia, I remember my maturing years like they were yesterday." She gazes out into the thin air. "These years shape you as a Huldra, as a woman." She looks directly at me. "Tell me, honestly, did you kiss him?"

I don't want to tell her that I kissed him on the cheek because she might not let me go to the prom. But against all reasonableness, I decide to be honest anyway, hoping I'll earn my mom's trust. "Yes, but it's not what you think! It was just on the cheek." I still feel his breath on my face, his hungry hands on my body.

"Sonia, how could you?" My mom maneuvers around the counter and sits down onto the stool next to me.

"He didn't even respond to me the way you said he would. It's like I never even kissed him at all." I look at my hands in my lap.

"What are you saying?" She studies my face then it seems to click for her. "Oh, so the other day when you were asking me if you could lose your Huldra flair—"

"Yes, that was about him. Do you think he could be a Huldu?" It feels good that I'm not hiding the truth from my mom anymore; I have someone who truly understands, a confidante.

"No, there's just no way. We know of all the Huldras and Huldus that have been born, and there haven't been any males born in the last few thousand years."

"But you did say that there were three that vanished and that you don't even know where they came from. Do you think he could be one of those?" I say.

She pauses. "No." She shakes her head and pauses again as if to reconsider. "No, we would know about him by now. He's your age?"

I nod. "I think, but he hasn't admitted anything to me yet, though I really think he's one of us."

"Do you have any other proof? I mean solid proof?"

"Well, he says he doesn't really date," I say.

"No good, solid proof, Sonia," she says.

I think for a moment. "He..." I can't think of anything. "What kind of proof are you looking for?"

"Have you seen his back? Does he have the markings that you and I carry?" she asks.

I hadn't thought to do that—not even at the beach, but I would still need to be really close to him to see them. "He has a tattoo on his back that looks like a beast."

"Still, no good. Lots of people have tattoos."

"Maybe I can change our date tomorrow to be a beach date instead, and I can look then?"

"Oh, no. No, no, no. You're not allowed to go on a date with him, young lady. No way—not after what you just told me. He could be any manner of being. There are codes in the Dynasty that we have to keep, and we're forbidden to do certain things."

Any manner of being? "Like what? That's ridiculous. I'm not breaking any rules because I haven't agreed to any yet. I just want to go on a date with him. I'm going on a date with him, Mom."

"No, you're not—end of discussion, and as a matter of fact, I don't want you to even speak to him anymore. Nothing good will come of this."

"What? Why are you going psycho on me?"

"You'll understand after you've been to the Academy." She stands up.

I stand up too. "Can't you just tell me now and spare me the suspense?"

"No, I can't. I need you to trust me on this, Sonia, okay?"

What's my mom's problem? Why doesn't she want me to see Anthony at all? "Well, who am I supposed to date then, a man I'm not attracted to?"

"Sonia, just put things off for another month, then you'll fully understand. Besides, what's the rush? You have an eternity to date and find the right mate."

The problem is, I don't feel like this can wait. It has to be now, and it has to be Anthony.

Chapter 12

Once I get in my bedroom, I locate my phone and send a message to Anthony.

Hey, my mom is freaking out about my homework not getting done... and a few other things. Can we maybe save the date for another time? -Sonia.

I press the send button and wait. No answer comes, so I start on my homework. At 10:36 p.m., the answer finally arrives.

I'll be right over, what's your address? ~A

My heart nearly leaps out of my mouth at his unexpected message. Sneaking out into the hallway, I check to see if my mom's still up. All the lights, except for one over the oven, are turned off, and the front door is locked. She must have gone to bed early. Smiling, I tiptoe back to my bedroom, shut the door and text back.

50317 Sturbridge Rd. –Sonia.

Is Anthony really coming over? It will be the first time I have a boy in my room. Shoot, I better make my bed! I hurry up and tidy a few things before I powder my face and apply some lip-gloss. Not too much, though, just in case we...I stop myself. I shouldn't get my hopes up, but even more than that, I shouldn't even be thinking about him kissing me.

Fifteen minutes later, there's a subtle knock on my window. Opening it as quietly as I can, I see Anthony standing outside. For a moment, I wonder how he knows to knock on that window since I've never shown him where my room is.

"I'll open the front door for you," I whisper. "There's a screen, so you can't climb in through here, but just be quiet, because my mom is sleeping." He nods and heads toward the front door. After I let Anthony in through the front door, we sneak into my room. I close the door, lock it, and offer him a seat on my deep gray cloth lounge chair.

"Sorry about the late night visit," he says, looking around. "Nice room."

"Thanks, I like to keep things clean and simple," I say.

"Ah, a minimalist," he says.

"Yeah, I guess. Hey, about the text," I sit down on my bed, facing him, "my mom's freaking out because one of my teachers called her to say that she was worried about me."

"Don't worry about tomorrow then. We'll just go sometime during the summer," he says.

"Well—about that—I'm going away for the whole summer."

"That sounds exciting, where to?" he asks.

"Just off the New Hampshire coast to a small..." I almost say invisible island, but catch myself. "...island, and to a place called Kensington in Minnesota."

He makes a funny face. "Kensington? Really? What's there for you in Kensington?"

"I don't know—cows, goats?" I laugh.

He chuckles. "You know, I think there's an old Viking runestone in Kensington and they claim that the Vikings visited there around year 1100. You should go check it out."

I'm surprised that he knows about Kensington at all, such a small town. "Have you been there?"

"My mother's distant relatives live there. I've never been, but I hear it's a very interesting little place."

"Okay, I'll have to visit it." I tuck my hair behind my ear, a little more intrigued by the small town. Then I think of how long I'll actually be gone this summer, and how I won't be able to spend any time with Anthony. Maybe we should put our newfound relationship on hold like my mom said. "Hey, I think since I'm going to be out of town all summer, and things will get kind of busy toward the end of the school year, maybe we should just..." Really? Am I being this reasonable? Or maybe I'm just trying to please my mom?

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Anthony's tone is playful.

"No, it's just my mom is stressing out about us. She's never let me date anyone, or even kiss a guy." I can't believe that I just admitted that to him. Now he'll probably think there's something wrong with me—well—at least if he's not a Huldu.

"Why not? Is she overprotective?" Anthony asks, the edges of his lips quirking upward.

I sigh. "I wish that was the only reason, but there are other reasons. Maybe I'll share them with you some time." I still want to see if I can get him to confess that he's a Huldu. Is there anything else I can say that might grease his truth revealing wheels? Our eyes connect for a moment and my stomach flutters.

"So...you've never kissed a guy?" Anthony says, his eyes smoldering.

My cheeks burn. "No."

He smiles. "That's okay, you don't have to be embarrassed about it."

Too late. I look down at my hands.

Anthony leans a little forward in his chair. "I think it's neat that you've never been kissed."

"It doesn't make me sound like...an old maid?"

He shakes his head. "I wouldn't say that. It does make you sound like a germaphobe, though."

I gasp and throw my pillow at him, and he catches it mid-air. "Watch your mouth, young man, I know where you live." I laugh.

"Just joking, sorry, but really, I think it's rather sweet." His eyes turn serious. "It actually makes me want to be the first one to kiss you."

I can't believe he just said that, but his words have my stomach churning and my heart thundering in an instant. Do I take him up on it? "I might like that," I say and then I hold my breath.

He jumps onto the bed and looks me in the eyes for a long while. Locking eyes with him for this long is too intense, but I absolutely can't look away. My chest is pounding and I wonder if he'll actually kiss me. His gaze drops to my lips and then he presses his warm mouth lightly to mine, but before I'm able to fully enjoy the kiss, he goes back and sits in the chair.

I'm disappointed in the all-too-fleeting kiss, but I don't think my body would have been able to take much more; it's in shock as it is.

Anthony gets a conspiring look on his face. "You will go to the ballet with me tomorrow."

"What? I just told you I can't," I object.

His eyes darken, his smile devious, and he cocks his head to the side. "You will love it; I guarantee it."

I huff loudly and bite my lip. "Please don't ask this of me—my mom will kill me."

"But you have already proven that you are a rebel by inviting me to kiss you, right? She can't possibly get any angrier at you for going to see a harmless ballet performance?"

"Yeah, but it'll just be another point against me." I'm in deep now.

He smiles slyly. "Okay, but then I'll have to invite the bimbo instead."

He's definitely playing me, but my competitive side gets the best of me. "Fine, I'll go."

"Excellent!" He smiles a little too triumphantly. Rising from the chair, he moves toward the bed and electricity ignites the space between us. He stares at me like he wants me, like he owns me, and my breathing turns shallow.

As he sits down onto the bed, I scoot back; he can't have me—yet. I slide off the bed, chuckling nervously, and stand up, our eyes still locked onto each other. There's a thrill in the chase; he's the hunter; I'm the hunted. Standing up, he moves toward me, and I step back, but reaching the corner of my room, there's no escape. He grips my wrists, pressing them against the wall behind me, his grip, strong, but far from painful.

Resting his cheek on mine, he whispers into my ear. "May I kiss you properly, Sonia?"

"Yes," I say, panting, closing my eyes, and letting my head fall backwards. He kisses my neck, my jawbone, and my cheek slowly. My moan is more of a breath than a sound. His mouth is right in front of mine now, so close, I can almost taste it. His lips brush mine, the touch—a feather.

"Sonia?" I hear my mom say outside my door. I stiffen; Anthony holds his breath. We've been too loud.

"Are you all right? Is there someone in there?" she says.

I place my hands on Anthony's chest and push him gently away, squeezing past him to the closed door. "No one's here, just me. Sorry, I was practicing my...school presentation for tomorrow."

My mom wiggles the doorknob. "Open the door this instant."

I turn around to look at Anthony, but he has disappeared. He's probably hiding in the bathroom. I unlock the door. "Hi, sorry, did I wake you?" I fake a yawn.

"Yes, I was worried about you. I almost thought I heard a man's voice." She also yawns and tightens the belt around her robe. Her blonde hair looks messy, like she's been tossing and turning for hours.

"Nope, just me." I smile and open the door all the way.

"It's quite late. I just wanted to make sure that you're getting all the sleep you need. Good night." She turns around and shuffles down the hallway.

"Yeah, good night, Mom." I close the door and lock it. "Well that was close," I whisper, expecting Anthony to come out from wherever he's hiding, but he doesn't. "Anthony?" I walk into the bathroom, check my closet and under my bed. He's gone. Then I hear my phone chime and a text message pops up.

Sorry, had to go. I'll pick you up tomorrow at 6:00 p.m. sharp for the ballet performance. ~A

How did he get out? My window is still locked. He didn't slip out my door because I was standing in it. Maybe he slipped out through the bathroom to the other bedroom, went through the hallway and snuck out the front door. I hadn't even noticed.

I change into my comfy coral and white polka dot pajama pants and pull on a white tank top. The surface of my eyes feel like sandpaper, scratching the backs of my eyelids with every blink and it isn't long after I pull my down duvet cover over me that I fall asleep.

Chapter 13

In my dream, I find myself in a pine tree forest. Lilies of the valley cover the forest floor, surrounding me where I sleep. Sitting up, I see that I'm wearing a blue dress that looks like it's from another century. The holes in the sleeves and on the skirt give it a distinctly worn appearance that seems to confirm its age. The forest smells like moss and sodden leaves and the dense mist that surrounds me clings to my face like dew.

Suddenly the haze lifts and an attractive man approaches me. I'm a little afraid of him at first, feeling uncomfortable being alone with a stranger. He's wearing a modern suit as green as the grass below our feet, a white dress shirt, and a hunter green tie. His slick hair, combed over to the left, is black as coal, and his skin, a pale gray.

"Sonia, do you know where you are?" the man asks.

How does he know my name? Then I remember that I'm in a dream and the man is just another version of me, a very odd version of me. "No."

"I am not an odd version of you and you should learn to hide your thoughts better—you never know who might be listening."

I'm shocked.

"Shocked, are you? Good! Our current location is a Norwegian forest, thousands of years ago, if that clears your confusion," he says, his voice formal and his accent Scandinavian.

"Okay?" I suppose anything can happen in my dreams.

"You believe you are dreaming, but you are not. You have been granted a vision by the Almighty Huldra."

"Who's that?" I ask—I've never heard of her.

"Of course you have not heard of her. No living mortal has, and so far, no other Huldra has either. She only reveals herself to those she chooses."

"Why is she granting me a vision?" Will I get to meet her? Crap, I need to hide my thoughts better so this green guy can't read them.

The guy with the green suit looks slightly amused and says, "Shall we give the guy in the green suit a name?"

I try not to squirm where I stand because it bothers me to have someone else inside my head. "Yes, please."

"You will get used to me being in your head. My name is Olaf," he says.

I want to be honest; it isn't worth trying to hide my true thoughts from him. "That's an... interesting name."

"Yes, I hear that quite often from post-creation people," Olaf says.

Post creation? I think.

"Post creation is the time after the creation of Adam and Eve, is that clear enough for you?" Olaf says, somewhat condescendingly.

"Yes," I say. "Were you born before the creation?"

"Not exactly. Follow me." He swivels around and waits.

Oh, I'm supposed to go with him.

"Yes, please come," Olaf says.

"Where are we going?" I step up next to him.

"I want to show you some of your origins," he says, taking me gently by the arm. We start gliding a few inches above the forest ground.

Now I don't feel as uncomfortable in this strange man's presence—only curious, well, as long as he stays out of my head. Where will he take me? We glide on for a while, passing hills and crevices, trees and a lake, until he stops me in front of a large valley.

"I am glad you are not afraid of me. It is a sign of your courage. I have to admit that I had my doubts about you, but the Almighty Huldra knew what type of a Huldra you were."

"How can she know that when I've never met her?"

"No, you haven't met her, but she knows of you."

"Does this Almighty Huldra have a name?" I almost laugh at the word 'almighty,' thinking it sounds ridiculous.

Olaf frowns. "If she wants to reveal it to you, she will. Now, behold, the valley of life, or in other words, the valley of our pure heritage as it used to be." Olaf gestures to it. The valley is deep, green and gorgeous with trees, rivers and flowers throughout. Soaring mountains surround the valley on either side, making it breathtakingly beautiful.

"It's lovely," I gasp.

"Yes, it was lovely once, wasn't it?" Olaf lets go of my arm and kneels down in the grass, looking as if he is praying. "All of this can be yours if you want. Look at it, Sonia, it was so beautiful before!" His hands lift up above his head, glorifying the valley, and when he lowers his hands to his sides, clouds appear in the heavens. "This is what the valley of our heritage looks like now!" He begins to sob. The trees and plants shrivel up and leave nothing but a desert with sand and rocks and skeletons of trees. I get the feeling that his tears are not genuine, only fabricated for a performance tailored for me.

Even so, I mourn the destruction of the valley, seeing how destitute it has become. "Oh."

He composes himself and speaks again. "Take courage, Sonia, it can all be yours and be beautiful again just like before."

"Mine, what do you mean?" I ask, growing curious now about the power I might acquire and almost forgetting that I'm dreaming.

"It is symbolic, Sonia. If we do not care to restore the order of the pure Huldras, it will all die just like this valley of life died." Olaf's stare cuts through me like a razor.

"Sorry, I don't know anything about restoring a valley or our heritage." I look away.

He grabs my arm and squeezes it so hard that it hurts. "Yes, you do. It will all become very clear once you commit. We are not after your current abilities, we are after your future, for we know who you can become because the Almighty Huldra has seen it in a vision."

"Let go of me." I pull my arm away.

"I am sorry. I did not realize you were only a girl and not a mature Huldra yet. Mature Huldras are much stronger, you will learn. I did not mean to hurt you."

Wait, how does he know that I'm a Huldra in the first place?

"All Huldras know their kind. We can see it as plainly as black on white."

Again, I forgot that he could read my thoughts. I don't like him being in my head.

"Get over it. The sooner you do, the sooner you can learn and become as powerful as you were meant to be."

"How will I learn?" I ask, testing to see if he knows about—I restrain my thoughts.

"Yes, dear Sonia, the Huldra Academy. I know about it so there is no need to shield your thoughts from me. You are but a caterpillar, still not ready to enter your cocoon, still not realizing that there are other ways to receive the training you need. You are not just forced to train with the Dynasty at the Academy, though your mother wants you to believe that that is the only way. You can train with us, with me, with the Almighty Huldra."

"Why would I want to train with you? What's in it for me?" I ask.

"If you train with us, you will learn more. Not only will you learn how to control your flair, you will be able to acquire more power and more control than if you trained with the other Huldras. That is something the Huldra governesses do not want you to know because they want to maintain the control and the power over all Huldras and Huldus."

Governesses? Another new term. "What would you want in return?" I know there has to be a catch.

"Your loyalty and commitment to the Almighty Huldra, that is all, and the promise that you will use all of your gifts to promote her cause. It is only a minimal sacrifice on your part."

"Why does she want to train me?"

"Because she wants you to become all that you can be. The governesses stole the Almighty Huldra's fifth Huldra gift, and now she cannot use her powers," Olaf says. "She is afraid they will do the same to you, but I cannot say more. It will all make sense once you meet the Almighty Huldra. All you need to do is say you will come, and we will take care of the rest."

"It sounds like you're asking me to become my mom's enemy." I scowl.

"Oh no, nothing of the sort. If your mother knew that the Almighty Huldra was alive, she would side with her—I am certain of it. But, you must not tell her, of course for it could lead to dissension within the Dynasty, and we do not want to cause that."

I don't know if my mom would side with the Almighty Huldra, and now I'm feeling pressured into doing something I don't want. Then I catch myself. What am I thinking? It's just a stupid dream anyway!

"No, this is a visitation, not a dream," Olaf says.

I don't believe him.

"Read the black birthday envelope that arrived for you. In it you will find the invitation to what we have discussed. Just mail it back to us to let us know you wish to join. The return address is inside." Olaf smiles.

This is crazy. Well, maybe it's not so crazy. I'm dreaming. Of course this guy would know about the envelope because he's in my head, in my dream.

"Olaf," he says.

"What?"

"You said 'this guy.' My name is Olaf, remember?"

Just then I wake up.

Chapter 14

I glance over at my alarm clock and it reads 5:56 a.m. It's still dark outside and the only sound is that of the rain pounding on our ceramic tile roof. That was the strangest dream I ever remember having. What was his name? Olaf? Thinking about it, I realize it was more than a mere dream, though I don't quite believe it was a vision, like Olaf said. Considering all the new information I've learned in the past few days, I grow increasingly overwhelmed. I'm also confused because although some of the information is congruent, some of it isn't. I want to believe my mom, but it seems she's trying to keep as much information from me as possible and not enlighten me, and if what Olaf told me is true, then I have many options moving forward, not just the one she's trying to sell to me.

Being unable to make sense of it all, I try to fall back asleep, but when I can't, I hop into the shower and get dressed instead.

Eating my cinnamon sugar oatmeal breakfast, I can't help but think about the black envelope resting in the drawer. Dare I read it? After I finish my oatmeal, I inch toward the drawer, open it as quietly as possible, and lift the dark envelope out. "Could the dream have been real?" I say out loud. I flip the envelope over, feeling its smoothness in my fingertips.

"My, you're up early. Good morning," my mom says, dragging her fuzzy black slippers across the surface of the hardwood floors so they make a swooshing sound.

I turn around and maneuver the envelope to my back. "Yeah, just had a hard time sleeping. Strange dreams, I suppose."

"Oh? Anything out of the ordinary?" she asks.

"Not really." My mom's hair looks even crazier than it did last night. "You all right, Mom?" I ask.

"Yes, why?"

"Your hair..." I gesture to my own hair, waving my hands erratically across it.

She touches her hair and steps into the hallway, probably to go check in the mirror. I hear her laughing.

I slip the black envelope back into the drawer. Perfect timing. When my mom returns, her hair looks more manageable.

"Better?" she says.

"Much." I smile. Phew! I was almost caught.

"Maybe it's time for your old mother to get a hairnet." She giggles at her own statement while filling the coffee pot with water. "Want a cup of warm latte?" She sets the pot to brew.

"No thanks, I think I'll head to school a little early instead so I can study in the library. I need some extra time to catch up on my homework."

"Can I pack you some lunch?" she says, pulling out the eggs from the fridge.

"It's okay, I'll just get cafeteria food." I put my empty oatmeal bowl in the sink and go to my room. Grabbing the backpack off my bed, I consider asking my mom if she knows anything about Olaf. No, I decide because if she does know him, and knowing him isn't a good thing, I'll probably have to suffer through even stricter rules than the ones she has already laid down.

I race to school and head for the library. All morning I try to think of ways I can sneak out with Anthony tonight. There has to be a good and believable reason why I need to go somewhere tonight for a few hours. Something my mom would believe, something necessary. The answer comes to me during my social studies class. I need new shoes to match my prom dress. Perfect!

At lunchtime, I ask Ashley to cover for me. She isn't too thrilled about being the shield between my mom and me because she still doesn't think Anthony treats me the way I deserve, but after plenty of explaining and begging, she finally agrees.

Before I leave for the two last periods, I remind Ashley about our plan. "If my mom calls, remember, we're shopping at the Outlet Mall. If she demands I come home immediately, she'll know not to expect me home for at least an hour. Remember to text me if she calls you."

"Fine," Ashley says. "But you owe me big time, and I'm just letting you know that I still think Anthony wants to use you, so be careful, and if he treats you like crap again, pulling the 'I have another girlfriend' card on you, or something ridiculous like that, I'll stalk him and slash his tires."

I laugh, but then I think maybe Ashley is seriously considering it.

* * *

"Think of this evening as an early birthday present," Anthony says, handing me a single red rose before I get into his car. He looks very handsome in his crisp white dress shirt and pinstriped navy slacks. I told him to come pick me up at Ashley's house where I had dressed for the date. I couldn't get ready at home since Mom would have been suspicious as to why I was dressing so nicely just to go to the mall.

"You look beautiful." He gazes into my eyes, immediately sending me into a state of weakness.

"Thanks," I manage to say coolly. I picked up my dress from home right after school while my mom was out on an errand. I haven't worn this dress in ages because I rarely go to events that require semi-formal dresses. The sleeveless piece is just large enough to cover up the silver markings on my back, it accentuates my tiny waist and shows off my long, slender ballerina legs. Midnight blue looks great against my pale skin; I chose to wear the dress because I think it might be Anthony's favorite color.

"Are you excited?" Anthony says as he opens the car door for me. A huge bouquet of red roses rests on the seat.

"Wow!" I smile at him. "Yes, I'm very excited." He moves the bouquet to the back. Sitting down in the front leather seat, I pull my legs in.

Anthony closes my car door and curves around to the driver's side. Getting in, he says, "We're early, so do you want to grab a bite to eat first?"

"Sure." I place my purse on the floor.

"How does Christopher's on East sound?" He briefly adjusts his rear-view mirror.

I've only been to Christopher's on East a couple of times and have been impressed enough to want to go back. "Sounds great." I'm starving.

Anthony hand grazes my knee as he shifts gears, and my whole body tingles from his touch. Our eyes connect for a moment and then we smile at each other.

He revs up the engine and speeds out of Ashley's subdivision. He's treating me so well now, but in the back of my mind, I wonder if he's being genuine or if he just wants something from me like Ashley thinks. Are there any other surprises? I hope not, but something tells me that I haven't seen anything yet.

When we're well on our way, he says, "I feel kind of bad that I'm part of the rebellion."

"Rebellion?"

"I'm co-conspiring with you to go against your mother's wishes." Anthony smiles crookedly.

"I think you're more than the co-conspirator; I'd say you were the mastermind." I laugh. "She'll be mad no matter what happens from this point on. I think the only way she'd be content is if I stayed in my room all day and studied." Sad, but true. "Don't worry, she'll be upset with me, but she loves me. I'm more concerned about you since she has promised to torture any illicit date of mine until he vows to never come back."

"That makes me feel a whole lot better," he says sarcastically, "having the wrath of Hedda after me."

I don't remember ever telling Anthony my mom's name, but I might be wrong, so I decide not to ask him about it. Now that things are so good between us, I'd rather not ruin the evening by interrogating him.

After we finish eating our pan-roasted Atlantic salmon, we head for the Sarasota Performing Arts Center. Small groups of formally dressed patrons scurry toward the seashell-designed yellow and gold building. As the sun sets, the sky turns red and gold.

Watching the ballet, I remember how much I love dancing and promise myself that I'll take it up again as soon as I can. The red velvet curtain drops, and the lights go up for the first of two intermissions. We head into the foyer, and the first thing I do is check my phone. I have nine missed calls, six text messages and three voicemails. A sinking feeling floods my gut.

"I'm just going to use the ladies room," I say to Anthony, my eyes still on my phone. Before I'm even able to take a step, he grabs my arm. "Ouch." I give him a mean look because his grip is a little too strong for my liking.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." He lets go right away. "Is everything all right? You look flushed."

"I do?" I pretend not to notice. "It's a little hot in here, that's all."

"You sure?" His voice sounds tense. "Because I want tonight to be perfect for us."

"Yes," I say and walk off. He's acting a little strange again. In the bathroom stall, I check Ashley's text messages first.

Text 1: Your mom called. She says she needed to get a hold of you.

Text 2: Your mom called again. She sounds nervous. Please call her.

Text 3: Ok, so she's freaking me out now. She says if she can't get a hold of you she'll call the cops. Are you ok?

Text 4: Ok, now I'm freaking out too. Please, please respond!

I hardly dare to read the texts from my mom.

Text 1: I tried to call you, but no answer, so I called Ashley instead. She says you are shopping in a different store than her. You have to call me right now. It's an emergency.

I don't recall my mother ever using the word 'emergency.' Something must be very wrong, and I don't think it has anything to do with her finding out that I'm out on a date with Anthony. If that were the case, she would have texted something like, 'you are in big trouble, young lady.' Maybe something else has happened to her family in Kensington.

Text 2: I'm calling the police if you don't reply by 8:30.

I look at the time. 8:31. I don't bother to check the three voice messages she left, but instead, call my mom right away. No answer. I call her again. No answer. I call a third time and leave a brief message, saying I am okay and for her to call back ASAP. Then I call Ashley.

"Sonia, thank heavens—I've been worrying like mad!" Ashley says, her voice bordering on hysteria.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm at the ballet, like I told you," I say.

"Your mom is a basket case, and she's been calling me nonstop. She mentioned something about a guy named Olaf. I'm so glad to hear your voice. Do you know what's going on? Please tell me you've already called your mom. I..."

"Please just let me speak!" I'm glad I'm in the stall, or I would have a few angry old ladies glaring at me for raising my voice and disturbing their pleasant evening. "I tried to call my mom three times, but she didn't pick up. Can you drive over to my house and check on her? I'm worried that something might have happened to her."

Ashley huffs. "Sure. I'll call you in like five minutes or whenever I get there, but I'm not going in, or she'll know that I'm part of this deception." She hangs up.

I know I've stretched Ashley's limits by asking this of her. She'll be upset at me for a day or two, but she doesn't hold grudges any longer than that. I head out of the bathroom to talk to Anthony while I wait for Ashley's return call. "Hey," I say, trying to act as calm and normal as possible, but I can barely steady my trembling hands.

"Are you sure everything is fine? You seem preoccupied," Anthony says.

I try to smile, but I know it won't be possible for me to maintain this façade for the rest of the evening. "My mom has been calling and texting me all night." I hear the anxiety in my voice.

"Well, she probably found out that you're with me," Anthony says and grins so all his teeth show.

"No, I'm serious. She left a message saying she'll call the police if she doesn't hear from me, but when I call her back, she doesn't pick up." This reminds me that I haven't listened to her voicemails yet. "Wait here." I step out through the glass doors. Going outside feels like taking a bath, it's so humid and hot. I call my voicemail.

Sonia, it's Mom, please call me as soon as you get this. This is an emergency, all right, sweetie?

I save the first message from my mom and move onto the next one.

Sonia, it's me again. I really, really need you to call me. I don't want to alarm you too much, but this is a matter of utmost importance. Call me right away.

I save that one, too, and move onto the last one.

Sonia, now I'm really worried about you. This is a matter of life and death, and if you don't respond I'll be calling the police. This is about the Huldra governesses. Three of them have gone missing. I can only hope that you are well. I love you.

I try to call my mom again, no answer. I try again, and still no answer. "Come on, Mom, pick up, pick up, pick up," I say.

Anthony comes over and rests his hand over my phone, preventing me from calling yet again. "Let's go home. It seems like you're worried about your mom."

"I need to get home right away," I say. "My mom says it's important." I don't know where the tears come from, but I can't stop them.

"Okay, let's go." Anthony hands his ticket stub to the valet and tells him he'll give him a huge tip if he is back with the car in less than two minutes. The valet returns quickly, zooming Anthony's car into the overhang and screeching the tires when he stops. Anthony flips him a fifty-dollar bill, and we're on our way.

"This isn't the way home!" I say when he turns to head north on the trail.

"It's a shortcut." Anthony's eyes are glued to the road.

"No, it's not, you're going the wrong way!" I'm suddenly angry, having clearly explained to him that I need to get home right away.

"Just let me drive!" Anthony's voice betrays his own anger.

"Slow down! What's your problem exactly? I told you I need to get home to my mom—she said it was an emergency."

"No, I need to get you away from here, or Olaf will..."

I interrupt him. "What?" Alarms ring in my head. "How do you know about Olaf?"

"I've known about him for a few years. He's after you and your mother," Anthony says, like it's nothing.

"How do you know that, and why is he after us, and who is he anyway and...?" The questions come faster than I can speak them.

"I haven't been telling you the whole truth about me." Anthony swerves around a black convertible so fast that the palm trees that line the trail pass by in a blur.

"Well, that's obvious. Are you finally going to tell me who you are?" I grab onto the dashboard to steady myself.

"I know who you are, Sonia. You're a Huldra, soon to be accepted into the Dynasty," Anthony says.

I can't speak for a moment; I'm so surprised that he finally admits knowing. "And you're a Huldu, admit it!" I scream so loud that my voice feels like it will crack.

"Yes, Sonia, I am. I'm a Huldu, but that's only a tiny amount of the truth you need to know. You're so hung up on this Huldra, Huldu thing that nothing else matters to you at all."

"That's not true!" I yell.

"You don't have any idea about anything, do you? You think you can break the Huldra codes without any consequences; it's all a game to you, but right now there's a lot more at stake than your freedom."

"My freedom?" I say. "What do you mean?"

"I know what you're thinking because I went through the same thing. You probably don't want to commit to the Dynasty, do you? You think that it will limit you in some way and that you'll have to conform to all their ancient ways and that's why you're rebelling—so you can keep your freedom. It happens to all of the new Huldras and Huldus at your age."

Of course he's right about me rebelling, but I won't admit that to him. "Are there more Huldras and Huldus?"

"Only your clan. All the others have been murdered by Olaf and...the Almighty Huldra."

"Is Olaf responsible for kidnapping my aunts?" I ask.

"Yes, and now he probably has your mother too."

The blood drains from my face and then a wail escapes my lips.

Chapter 15

Anthony is still speeding down the road, but I don't care as much about his reckless driving as I do about my mom.

"Do you know for a fact that Olaf has my mom?"

His lips press together, turning them white.

My phone rings again and I see that it's Ashley calling. I answer it, but before I manage to say hello, Anthony hits the phone out of my hand so it bounces off the inside of the windshield, slides across the dashboard over to Anthony's side and falls onto the floor.

All reason tells me that I should be afraid that Anthony will do something harmful to me, but the only thing I feel is anger—that and extreme fear for my mom's safety.

"Are you crazy? That was Ashley calling me back to let me know how my mom is doing!" I say.

"If you sent Ashley over to your house, trust me, that wasn't her calling you back." The light in front of us turns yellow, and then red, but Anthony keeps going.

I'm going to die. "She wasn't going to go inside the house, just check to see if my mom was home," I fume sarcastically.

Anthony pauses, his eyes shifting, but he remains silent.

"Why wouldn't that be her calling me from her phone anyway?"

Anthony takes a sharp right into a small side-road and keeps speeding down the cracked asphalt street. Shabby-looking pine trees and bushes zoom by in a flash. "Because if Olaf's people managed to get your mother, then they might have captured Ashley, too."

I wince. "How do you supposedly know about all this? Are you one of his spies? Is that why I dreamt of Olaf the night you visited?" I ask.

He ignores me.

"Anthony, please just answer the question," I plead.

"My mother and Olaf work together, and..." He stops speaking and he presses his lips together.

"Curse you, Anthony, if you keep any more secrets from me, I swear I'll never talk to you for as long as I live."

He slams on the breaks.

I stretch my arms out in front of me to keep from skyrocketing forward. "You're driving like a maniac!" I reach across Anthony's lap, grab my phone and jump out of the car as quickly as I can. "I'll hike home," I yell, slamming the car door shut.

Anthony comes after me, slamming his car door shut behind him. "Listen to me, Sonia. If you go home, I can guarantee you that you'll be kidnapped and you'll never see your mother again."

"I don't believe any of your guarantees," I say, not stopping, but sweeping my hands across my face to catch the tears. "Why do you know about these things Anthony, and why haven't you told me about them before?" I hate him for it. "I'll never trust you again." In all honesty, I think I never will.

"I know you think that now, but please let me explain."

"As far as I'm concerned, I think you're a prick and a jerk and a moron and an immoral piece of crap Huldu all rolled into one," I say. It feels good to get that off my chest.

"I know that's what you must think of me right now, and I accept that. I should have told you before, but you don't know how complicated my life is, and how much power my mother has."

"I don't care that you have a complicated life. Mine's worse, way worse, and all I know is that I need to help my mom. She says that her three sisters have gone missing." I stop and stare at Anthony. "What do you know about that?"

"My mother is the Almighty Huldra and is responsible for their disappearances. She tells Olaf what to do and he does it. I know where he took them and I know what my mother wants to take from you."

I am taken aback. "Take from me?" I think about my dream where Olaf said that they wanted to educate me, but he hadn't mentioned that they wanted to take anything from me. I have something they want, but what is it?

"Yes, she sent me to get to know you, but I hadn't anticipated that I would...actually..." His eyes soften and then blink faster.

"Don't bother." I pull off my stiletto heels because they hurt my feet. "Don't you dare say that you've fallen for me, I don't want to hear it, and I should have known that it was all too good to be true."

"Sonia..." He touches my hair softly.

"Don't touch me." I hit him in the chest as hard as I can and keep walking barefoot on the cracked asphalt road.

He follows me. "I'm really sorry. Honestly. I want to help you. Please let me...?"

"Am I supposed to believe that you'd fight against your own mother?" I hiss.

He nods. "Yes. I know she's in the wrong, and I don't want to become like her."

"Why should I even consider your offer when all you have been to me is a liar and a jerk? You can't possibly expect me to trust you!" I have stopped again. Should I consider his offer? No. Yes. No.

"Because I know where your mother is, and I know how we can get her and the others back."

I pause and step onto the grass as the hot asphalt is starting to burn my bare feet.

"Let me take you to my place," Anthony says.

"Oh, no, do you think I'm that stupid, that I'd willingly enter the lion's den?" I say. "Your crazy mom is there."

"She's not there. She's on Wraithsong Island and she won't return until..." Anthony stops talking and looks me in the eyes.

"Until...?"

"Until she either has what she wants from you, or they're all dead," he says.

All my strength leaves me. My mom—dead? My dad's death tore a hole out of my heart, and that hole is still there—raw and bleeding—nearly as empty as it was eighteen months ago. I can't go through losing another parent; the loss would kill me.

"I know you don't trust me right now, but I can help you. I want to help you," Anthony says.

I hunch down, clench my knees in my arms and bury my face in my knees. Is this a nightmare? I hope so, because then I'll wake up and it will all be over.

"Why does it have to be you?" I lament. "Of all the people who can help me, it has to be the guy who's lied to me, who just a moment ago was on the enemy side, and who..." I don't say it out loud, but I think, the first guy I've ever fallen for. I clench my teeth. He must never find out. He will never find out.

"Sonia, I know my words probably don't mean much to you at the moment, but I promise you that I'll never let you down again."

"You're exactly right, but I'm forced to depend on you, aren't I?" I stand up and head back to his car, crying all the way. Back in the car, I take a deep breath and call Ashley back.

"Hey, what happened?" Ashley says when she answers.

I have to lie. "Sorry, just bad reception."

"Okay, so your mom's car is in the driveway, and the lights are on. I don't see her inside though, but she could be sleeping or watching TV. Have you heard back from her yet?" Ashley says.

"Yes." I hate lying to my best friend, but I don't have a choice. "It was nothing really, she had accidentally set off the alarm and forgotten the code."

"She mentioned Olaf?"

I have to come up with a story—quick. "Yeah, he's a distant relative that she thought might be coming to visit or something and she hates him."

"Oh, so everything's good then?" Ashley sounds half relieved, half annoyed.

I peer over at Anthony, who has just gotten into the car, my eyes seething with fury. "Yeah, and the date was awesome! You're going to love Anthony once you really get to know him." I find it hard not to let sarcasm inundate my voice. "The emergency is taken care of, anyway. You know how my mom can be a little melodramatic sometimes."

"Yeah, that's true. Okay, well, I guess I'll see you at school tomorrow then," Ashley says.

"Yes, have a good night and thanks for checking on my mom."

"Anytime." Ashley hangs up the phone.

I drop my hands into my lap and look at them because I don't want to look Anthony in the eyes. "What am I supposed to do? The prom's on Friday, Graduation's on Saturday, my birthday's on Sunday, and I'm supposed to go to Kensington next week."

"We just have to wait until we hear from—Maureen," Anthony says.

"Are you trying to distance yourself from your mom by calling her by her first name and not 'Mother?' That's stupid."

"You know, you could be a little bit more sensitive to me. This isn't exactly easy for me either," he says.

I feel a small tinge of guilt, but not enough to wipe away even a millionth of the pain he has caused me.

"It's not as though you were exactly honest with me either," Anthony says. "I could tell that you were trying to use your Huldra vibes on me so that you could control me."

"They're called Huldra flairs, Anthony. Didn't your mother teach you anything? And what I did to you is nothing compared to what you've done to me. I was trying to get you to confess so we could be open about it, but you were leading me on and...."

"This isn't going anywhere." Anthony's hand hits his temple. "Do you want to work on this together or not?"

"Yes, but only because I'm forced to," I sulk.

"Okay, but can we act a little more civilized toward each other, please?" he says softly.

I don't want to, but I know that we don't need the distraction of our relationship gone bad while I'm trying to save my mom's life. "Sure. I'll try," I say.

"That was convincing," he says sarcastically.

"Okay, I'll do it," I say stronger. "But don't expect anything other than civility from me." And barely even that.

"Deal," Anthony says.

"No, it's not a deal. It's a compromise." I need to be right.

"Call it what you like, but it's a deal nonetheless."

Why does he always have to have the last word?

Chapter 16

Driving into the Founder's Club, I can't repress the flight response that takes over my body. My hands feel cold and clammy, my stomach ties into a knot and I become acutely aware of every little detail from the beat of my racing heart to the ducks flying above.

Can I trust Anthony when he says that Maureen isn't home? Maybe it's a trap or maybe Maureen told him to bring me home so they can imprison me. I clench my phone in my hands, ready to dial 911 if I find he's been lying about the whole thing.

"What does your mom want from me anyway?" I ask.

"Please, can you just call her Maureen from now on?" he says sternly.

"Fine, what does Maureen want from me?" I enunciate every word. I know I'm acting like a brat, but I can't help it. I've never felt this kind of fear or fury, fear for myself and for my mom's safety, and fury toward Anthony and his mom. It surprises me how quickly I've gone from almost loving him to completely hating him.

"Before a Huldra is induced into the Dynasty, she has the option to receive her fifth gift or to give it away to someone else."

"She's after my gift?" I'm flabbergasted.

"Yes."

"What are the gifts?"

"Each one is different, but some examples of these gifts are gifts of discernment, or the gift of coiling.

I don't know what they mean at all, but I'm too tired to ask about them. "If Maureen is so almighty, can't she just get her own gift?"

"No, she was denied her gift by the governesses because she was unable to abide by the law of obedience before she was eighteen and then failed again to abide by the Huldra codes between the ages of eighteen and nineteen."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"The law of obedience is this: Each Huldra or Huldu is told, without knowing the reason why, that they must not use their flair on anyone. It's the first test to see if you'll be obedient to the laws given you."

My mom's words echo in my mind. In life, the test comes first, the lesson later. That must be what she meant by it. I exhale. "I guess I flopped that test."

"Don't worry, everyone fails that test. There's a second test after you've been to the Academy, and that test, well, I can't tell you about that test."

"Of course," I say dryly. So that's why my mom refused to tell me anything about who I am.

"Then there's a one year testing period after your training. If you pass the tests, you'll receive your fifth Huldra gift and be accepted into the Dynasty."

"Quick question—did you go to the Academy?"

"Maureen and Olaf taught me."

I nod. "What happens if I don't pass the tests?"

"You'll lose all your Huldra powers and become just like any other human."

"But if Maureen didn't pass the test, how was she able to..."

Anthony interrupts me. "She appropriated so many virtues from humans and from other Huldras and beings that her power continued to grow even though she was banned from the Dynasty."

"Did you pass your test?"

"Yes."

"What was your fifth gift?"

His expression becomes bothered and his eyes start blinking at a faster rate. "I'd rather not say." The tone in his voice changes, becoming sad almost. He opens the garage door with the remote, parks the car, turns off the engine and slumps into his seat.

I'm not nervous anymore; his openness has cooled my anger and my anxieties about being here—for now at least. Large cardboard boxes are stacked up against the garage walls, leaving no space for anything else. "Were you planning on moving?"

"No. Those are Maureen's...weapons."

"What kind of weapons?" My fear comes back again. This day feels like a never-ending rollercoaster ride to, well, not heaven, that's for sure.

"Well, there are assault rifles, machine guns, pistols, Dane axes, machetes, switchblades, swords..."

I interrupt him. "I...I get the picture." I've never in my life held a gun or any type of combat knife or sword. "What could she possibly need these for?"

"I'm not sure. She didn't tell me everything, but there are enough weapons here for a small army. Mostly she talked to me about capturing your fifth Huldra gift, but I think her plans are much grander than just that and I suspect she needs your gift for those plans."

His comment makes me feel like just another means to an end—to Maureen's end. At this point, I couldn't care less about my fifth Huldra gift or about Maureen's plans. I just want my mom to live. "I don't want my fifth Huldra gift. I'm going to give Maureen my gift so I can get my mom back."

"I wouldn't be so quick to decide," Anthony says.

"I don't care what my gift is because my mom's life is more important."

"Some of these gifts are more precious than existence itself, Sonia. Don't give it to her so hastily," he says.

"I've been able to live a fulfilling life up until this point without it, so how important could it be?" Not too important, I figure.

"You'll see. You're just going to have to trust me on this one. Take it from one who knows."

I roll my eyes. Trust? Him? Ha!

* * *

Once inside the house, we climb the stairs and enter Anthony's room. He offers me one of his soccer t-shirts and some way-too-big shorts to change into. After I get changed, I head into the rotunda in his room and look out the window. The lake mirrors the full moon and it hangs low and golden in the black sky. It's a spectacular view—so beautiful it nearly takes my breath away. The blue light in the pool below moves with the water and reflects onto the column pillars that uphold the veranda. I notice that a swan has made its way into their white gazebo on the deck. The poor swan is probably stuck.

"You left this here the other day." Anthony lifts up the scroll as he sits down in the same seat he sat in the other day.

"Well, I don't want it anymore." I look at him. "When did you realize I was a Huldra? Wait, did you come to my school knowing that you were looking for me?" I sit down.

"One question at a time, please," he says. "I didn't know that you went to Sarasota High School, no."

"So was it all just a coincidence that you found me? It doesn't seem like your way of doing things...Maureen wouldn't have left finding me to chance," I say.

"She never brought it up to me until..." Anthony stops speaking and then his face goes blank. He looks at me for a moment, before his eyes trail off into the distance.

Did she use him? No, it wouldn't make sense. He knew he was supposed to spy on me and bring me to his house, so surely he knew. He was part of Maureen's plan. "When did you know she was after me?" My voice is unyielding.

Anthony looks upset. "Let's get some rest. I think we'll both need it tonight." He stands up.

"I need an answer to my question." I rise to my feet—determined.

"I—"

"Are you telling me you're stupid and didn't know that Maureen has been using you for a long time?"

His eyes flash and he storms out of the rotunda, slamming his fist into the doorframe as he exits.

"What should we do about school?" I yell after him.

He turns around. "Go and act as if everything is normal until we hear from Maureen and what she wants me to do with you."

His words frighten me and I gasp a little. Is he going to do what she says? Is he lying to me and going to bring me to Maureen?

Anthony says, "I won't actually torture you, if that's what you're freaking out about."

His words, though meant to calm me, do nothing of the sort. "Won't Olaf come after me?"

"No, he'll be leaving for Wraithsong Island shortly, too, if he hasn't already, but there may still be someone else guarding your house, so we can't go there right now."

There's probably more to the story than he's telling me, but I'm so tired and overwhelmed, I let it go. I feel safe enough.

"Listen, I know this is all overwhelming, but I'll make things right," he says.

"Will you?"

His eyes darken. "I will."

I can tell he's at least trying to make the best of our bleak situation, and I want to believe him, but it's far too frightening. "I'm not going to pretend everything's all right when it isn't."

"Well, your mother's life is at stake so I'm sure you can manage," he says distantly and walks off.

I'd have to say I agree with him since I don't have any other choice.

* * *

I wake up to Anthony shaking me.

"Wake up!" he says. "Sonia, wake up!"

I open my eyes and see that the night is still dark.

"Are you all right?" He's holding my arms tightly.

I look around, trying to make sense of my surroundings and then remember where I am and why I'm here. Anthony let me sleep in his bed while he took the couch.

"Did you have a nightmare?" He turns on the lamp on the nightstand.

The brutal images of my dream pour into my mind again. "Yes." I shudder at the images.

"Everything will be fine. We'll be fine," he says.

I start to cry. "I dreamt that Olaf was torturing my mom, and that—he said he'd only stop if I turn myself in." Olaf had been kicking my mom as she lay curled up in the corner of a cell. After that he had broken her arm with his bare hands.

Anthony reaches to stroke my hair, but his touch isn't welcome and I pull away.

"It was just a nightmare."

"No, it was real!" I yell.

Compassion shines from his eyes. Even in the dim light, they are an intense blue. "You don't know that," he says gently.

I bury my face in my hands and sob. I'm exhausted and exposed and have never felt so unsure about my life. I need comfort, I need support and the only person here is Anthony—the last person I want comfort from.

"Hey, let me fix you a cup of hot chocolate," he says, standing up.

I lift my head up. "No, please don't leave." I'm scared, and it's better to have Anthony here than no one. I grab his forearm and immediately the electricity between us is back. It feels like my body yearns for him to be close, to touch, to feel, to hold, to kiss...I withdraw my hand and look at it. Is that my Huldra instinct? It must be because it's the only thing that makes sense. I'm still furious at Anthony and want nothing more than to never see him again, but that's my mind speaking. If I listened to my body, I want to...never mind what it wants. I'm not going to listen to its desires. Not after what Anthony put me through and not after what I saw what they are doing to my mom. I hate Anthony.

He reaches for my cheek and I slowly pull back. Our eyes lock and it is as if nothing can break his enchantment. He leans forward and kisses me gently on the forehead. I want to despise his touch, but I don't.

"I'm going to sleep now." His jaw tenses, and his eyes burn with determination. "Good night."

I won't admit it, even to myself, but I want him now more than I've ever wanted him. I hate my Huldra side for that. I pull the fluffy duvet over my body and make myself go back to sleep.

Chapter 17

Waking up the next morning, I remember the nightmare about my mom and have to force myself from breaking down again. I recall what Anthony said last night about it not being real. Though I don't trust him, given his proven track record of lying, I hope he's right.

I scoot myself to the side of the bed and stretch both arms up and yawn. Rising, I locate the attached bathroom, splash some water on my face and pat it dry with a fluffy white towel. I barely recognize the reflection in the mirror. My eyes are still swollen from crying myself to sleep last night and I look frightened, my expression void of happiness. I loathe how weak I feel and force any thoughts of despair away, knowing that if I linger on all that is wrong, I'll collapse. I pull my hair up into a ponytail and glare at myself in the mirror a minute longer, trying to convince myself that I am strong.

Anthony greets me with a smile when I enter the kitchen. "I thought you might need an extra healthy breakfast this morning." He scoops an omelet out of an iron frying pan and onto a plate, which he then sets down on the kitchen table. He seems too happy for everything that's going on.

I scowl at him, trying to give him an evil look as I sit down. "Why are you so happy this morning? It seems like you don't even care that my mom's life is in danger."

"I do, but I choose to stay positive even though the situation is horrible," Anthony says.

"Well, tone it down, will you?"

He looks at my clothes for a second and says, "I'm going to the mall to pick up some clothes for you because, obviously, you can't wear that."

"I can just go home and get my own clothes," I say.

His words overpower mine. "No, you can't. We already had that discussion, remember?"

I roll my eyes. "So now you think you're the boss of me?"

"No, but I'd prefer it if Maureen didn't get her hands on you," he says. "So far she doesn't know that I've betrayed her, so you are safe with me. Give it a few more days and we can return. For now, just eat and try to relax." He exits the kitchen.

I'm determined to not let his kindness toward me weaken my guard because I still consider him my enemy. Sitting at the table, I play with my food because I'm not hungry. How can I be hungry when I don't know if I'm ever going to see my mom again? Everything seems so meaningless without her. After forcing myself to eat three bites, I head back upstairs.

Anthony has already made the bed and sits on the sectional, pulling his beige loafers on. "There's something I need to tell you concerning the plans I made with Maureen before she left," he says.

"What? No more surprises, please. I can't handle any more stress right now." I sit down on the opposite side of the sectional, just far enough away that I won't be tempted to reach out and touch him, or him, me.

"I need you to not freak out on me, okay?" He inches a little closer to me.

I inch farther away and I think I see him rolling his eyes, but I don't care.

"Don't freak out when I tell you this."

Now I'm worried what he'll say, but I focus on breathing slower; it helps to calm me. "I'll be fine now, go ahead."

"The plan was for me to take you to the ballet, so Olaf could kidnap your mother."

My heart starts racing again and I clench my lips together so I won't say something that will reveal how disturbed I am, which could easily in his mind be misconstrued as freaking out.

"I was supposed to bring you—now don't overreact—here, and keep you here until I heard back from Maureen. So far, we've followed her plan," he says.

So Anthony was supposed to kidnap me? Keep breathing, I remind myself, but my chest tightens more by the second and it's like I can't get enough oxygen.

"The reason I'm telling you this, is that Maureen might call me today with further instructions. She might not, but I just want to make sure you're prepared when she does, and when she does, I want you to be part of the phone call—listening," Anthony says.

"Can I say something now?" I say, still working extremely hard to keep myself from losing it.

"Not yet, there's more." He pauses as if to formulate the sentences in his head.

I bite my lip and swallow.

"What she might be telling me when she calls is what I'm supposed to do...to you, which of course, I won't be doing, but I'll have to agree over the phone so I don't set off any red flags. Do you understand?"

"Yes." I can't believe I'm actually just sitting here, quietly listening to this.

"What she'll be telling me to do to you will probably shock you." He inches closer to me, and I can smell his cologne now. I wish I didn't like it.

"What kind of things are we talking about?" I ask.

"Mostly torture—" Anthony says, looking down at the floor as if ashamed.

"Do you normally—torture people?" The hair on my back stands up.

"No, I never have. That's always been Olaf's job, but he recently taught me his torture methods. When I saw how devious Maureen's plan is, I wanted no part of it, especially since it involves destroying our own kind." His eyebrows crease.

Just as he's about to say something else, I jump to my feet no longer able to contain myself. "This is the worst experience in my life! I can't believe I have to go through this, and be stuck here with you! My mom is missing and is probably being tortured at this very moment, and..."

"You promised you wouldn't freak out on me." Anthony looks baffled.

"That was before you started talking about torture!" I need a quick escape, so I run to the bathroom and lock myself in to get some distance from Anthony. One time I fell off the monkey bars at school while trying to perform a trick. I had all the wind knocked out of me after having fallen a few feet, landing on my back. That's exactly how I feel now—breathless, panicking as life's being extracted out of me.

Anthony gently knocks on the door. "Sonia, come on, please don't do this. To make this work, I need your full cooperation. Please try and keep your emotions out of this."

How can he remain so reasonable? Because he isn't as emotionally invested, of course. I pause as it suddenly occurs to me that maybe he actually is just as emotionally invested as I am. It couldn't have been that easy to realize that his mom is trying to kill his own kind and it definitely couldn't have been easy to go against all that he was taught growing up. Clearly, I'm not being as considerate as he is, but it's just so hard to trust him. For all I know, this could be another part of his ploy. I try and think of other ways I can save my mom. I can't contact the police because what would they say if I told them that my mom is being held captive on an invisible island? If I involve Ashley—no—I don't want to involve Ashley and endanger her life, too.

"I'll go pick up some clothes for you now," he says through the door. "I should be back in a few hours."

I lean my hip against the granite countertop and slump as I think. If I want to get my mom out alive, I'll have to get out of this emotional fog and act rationally. How would a very rational adult act in this situation? She would forget about herself and do what she needed to do when she needed to do it. But I don't know if I have the strength to do that right now since all I want is to lie down and cry. I think about my mom and how pained she looked in my dream last night. She might die if I don't do something, if I don't rise to the occasion and forget about my own pain. I fling open the door and run downstairs.

Anthony is just about to leave, and I stop him. He's clutching a gigantic book in his arms.

"What's that?" I ask.

He holds it toward me so I can see. "A book about how to hone one's Huldu powers."

"There are books about that stuff?"

"Yeah, they give you books when you go to the Academy. The books contain writings about our heritage and education."

I finally start seeing a picture of Kensington that I didn't before. Going there is all about learning who I am, where I come from, where I'm going and how to fulfill my life the best way possible. In short, it is a neatly packaged gift that will teach me how to utilize my powers to the fullest as a Huldra. The idea of learning all of this intrigues me and is no longer annoying.

Anthony nears me. "Well, you're going to be one heck of a Huldra." He smiles like he knows a whole bunch of stuff about me that I don't know yet. Then he lifts his hand cautiously and strokes my cheek, and even against my own will, and against all manner of reason, my knees go weak.

Chapter 18

Anthony returns a few hours later carrying bags of clothes. He sets six bags onto the floor in the foyer, heads out again and brings in five more. I notice that the bags are all from my favorite stores. "Here's the rest," he says, closing the front door behind him with his foot. It slams shut. "I even got you some toiletries. They should all be the brands you like."

"Okay, so this might be a stupid question, but do you really know what brands I like in toiletries?" I ask, my hands resting on my hips.

"Of course, I was sent to spy on you, remember?" He throws his car keys on the round glass table in the center of the foyer.

"Yeah, but did you break into my house or something to find out what soap I use?" I'm trying to be sarcastic because I don't want to think he has actually done it.

"Well—" he says sheepishly.

"You know what, never mind, I don't want to know," I say, grabbing half of the bags, and then I climb the stairs up to Anthony's room. He comes behind me with the rest of the bags and puts them on his bed. While seated on the sectional, I pull the tags off of my new clothes. They're all my size; it's a little worrying how much he knows about me.

Anthony comes over, holding his phone. "I just got a text from Maureen for me to call her as soon as I can. Are you ready to make that phone call with me?" He takes a seat right next to me.

"Yes," I say and set the bags with the clothes aside. I can't help but feel nervous about the call, even though I know I'll only be listening. Anthony smiles at me as if to comfort me. Then he dials the number and presses the speaker button. It rings four times before Maureen picks up.

"Hello, Anthony, how are you?" Maureen says. I envision her cold-hearted face clearly when I hear her voice.

"I'm doing well. How are you, Mother?" Anthony says.

"How do you think I am? I'm tired of incompetent people who cannot take orders, and I would like for nothing more than to just be done with this."

Anthony blinks slowly and is face goes limp. "How are the plans coming along?"

"Everything has gone as planned so far, I suppose, though far too slowly. Please tell me you have good news," Maureen says.

"Everything has gone according to plan. I brought the Huldra here with me."

"Good, good. At least you didn't completely turn out like your father. He could never take an order. How is the Huldra?"

"She complains about missing her mother," Anthony says, looking at me.

Tears well up in my eyes so I close them and hold my breath to not make a noise. He squeezes my hand apologetically.

"Tell her to quit complaining or things will just get worse from here on out," Maureen says. "Besides, I don't know why you're bringing this up; I've already told you to tell her that she'll have her mother back once we have her gift. Do I always have to repeat myself?"

"What's the next step?" Anthony asks. I pull my hand away.

"I will need a couple more days to solidify that, and then I will call you back. Keep my Huldra strong so that she can release her gift when the time is right."

"Of course," Anthony says. "How is the mother doing?"

"The Huldra girl probably gets her toughness from her mother. Hedda is well, but we have had to keep her sedated. She has a lot of fight in her."

"Sure, sure," Anthony says. "The Huldra wanted to know if she could talk to her mother, to make sure she's still alive."

"Lesson number one in negotiations, Anthony, is to always stay in control. If you let your opponent set the rules, you have lost. If you were smarter, you would have figured that one out."

If I didn't know Anthony, I would have thought that the comment didn't have any effect on him, but I've noticed that when he's hurt, his eyes blink faster. Maureen's cruelty toward him clearly has a strong effect.

"Well, I'm in a hurry to go get my hair done on the mainland. I'll call back soon, I promise," Maureen says.

"Good-bye," Anthony says and hangs up the phone. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts. "Are you mad at me?"

"No," I say, tears streaming down my face. "You did what you had to do to make it sound believable." I'm surprised by how calm I am. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

I have started to believe Anthony now and think that he actually wants to help save my mom, but I still don't know if it's the right thing to trust him or if my trusting him is misdirected.

He wipes the tears off my cheeks with his hand and gazes into my eyes. I feel that sudden attraction between us, but try to ignore it because anything else would be unwise.

"I'm really sorry for all of this," he says. "I feel like it's all my fault."

I'm afraid to rely on him completely, but something in my gut tells me that I can. I lean my head on his strong shoulder. "Well, you can't take credit for all of it." Am I actually being kind to him?

"No, but I could have warned you about Maureen and Olaf earlier."

"Can't we just go to Wraithsong Island now and rescue them?" I say, sitting up.

"We could, but we'd never find the island. I've never been there, and I have no idea where it is, and one can't see it until one is on it. Maureen is going to have to come pick us up in her yacht and take us there. It's best if you stay and graduate this weekend and then she'll probably be ready for us. And your eighteenth birthday's coming up soon, isn't it?"

"Yes, Sunday." I don't feel like celebrating and think it would be almost blaspheming to celebrate anything until my mom has been found safe and sound and I absolutely don't want to go to prom anymore either. I wish I had just listened to my mom about prom in the first place, instead of trying to force her hand into letting me go.

"So we'll both graduate on Saturday," Anthony says.

"Yeah." Even graduation seems so unimportant now, compared to trying to save my mom's life.

Chapter 19

More than anything I want to stay locked up in Anthony's room and cry, but I know I can't do that, and force myself to go to school. I arrive late, during the third period. It's challenging to keep up appearances and pretend as if everything's normal—especially to Ashley. Fortunately I don't have any classes with her today or she would have noticed my melancholic mood, and at lunch she flirts with another senior and doesn't seem to pick up on my nervousness, which I am thankful for.

Waiting for Maureen's call is like waiting for a blind snail to make its way around the world—twice. I carry my phone close at all times, checking it obsessively in class and between classes, just in case Anthony calls, which of course, he never does. I'm relieved to find that Savannah seems to have vanished and I no longer need to check my seat for tacks or be afraid I might run into her in the hallway. I do, however, see Tyson a couple of times in passing, but luckily, he doesn't see me.

After school, I head straight back to Anthony's house again. Right as I pull in to the driveway, I see him handling on a few guns in the garage. I step out of my car and approach him with caution.

"I'm going to train you how to use a pistol this afternoon, and a rifle and a couple of other things tomorrow," he says, throwing a small silver suitcase into the trunk of his car.

My heart drops into my stomach. A gun? I can't imagine aiming a weapon at anyone, not even to save my own life. Thinking about it, I wonder if I would be able to shoot someone if it meant saving my mom's life. Hopefully it will not come to that.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it, I promise," Anthony says.

I almost blurt out 'I doubt it,' but bite my tongue, knowing that the comment won't be helpful to him or me. He gets in the car and I follow his lead. We drive out of his subdivision and head east, toward the country. I think of the next few days ahead with dread. I was so excited to graduate and to go to the prom and was eagerly anticipating attending our after graduation party, but what I looked forward to just a few days ago is now just another distraction, another burden.

"We don't have to go to the prom to keep up appearances, do we?"

"Did you want to go?" Anthony asks, his hands clutching the steering wheel. He's driving way too fast.

"No, but you said you had a date so I thought you were going."

"I'm not going," Anthony says.

I don't dig into his reasoning any further. He probably never had a date; it's more likely that it had been part of his earlier lies.

"I'll be teaching you how to use a weapon instead, will that suit you?" he asks.

"Sure," I say. Me holding a gun—it sounds like the most unlikely thing in the world.

When we arrive at the outdoor twelve-lane shooting range, Anthony tells me to wait in the car while he goes inside the one-story annex and pays the fees. When he comes out again, he drives us over to the wood stalls at the end of the dirt road and fetches the silver suitcase he stashed in his trunk earlier. Stepping into a wooden stall, he places the suitcase on the rectangular wooden table and sits down on the bench. A few other people are practicing their shots, but from what I can see, most of them missing horribly. This is going to be interesting.

Red, green, and white circular targets wait in the distance, and I estimate that they stand around one hundred yards away. Shots go off at random. The day is warm, but not hot, and the sky has patches of white clouds.

"Here." Anthony hands me a pair of orange and black ear guards and clear protective glasses. "Put the ear guards on your head, but leave one ear uncovered so I can instruct you."

I follow his directions.

Opening the silver suitcase and pulling out a pistol, he says, "This is a Beretta 93R. It's a selective-fire machine pistol, meaning you can select whether you want to fire either a three round burst, or a single fire." He hands it to me with the barrel pointing down. "With your fingers on one side of the grip, keep your middle, ring and pinky finger curled around the trigger guard like this." He shows me. "Your grip around the pistol needs to be really tight. This gun isn't an easy one to aim, but any Huldra has a perfect aim."

"Really?" He can't mean me, I'm sure—I'm just a beginner.

"Yes, didn't your mother tell you anything about the Huldra's ability to never miss a shot?" Anthony asks, checking my grip on the pistol.

"No."

"You read up on Huldras, didn't you? There are quite a few stories on the internet about Huldras blowing on a man's weapon, and that weapon never missing a target again."

"I didn't get much of a chance to read the stories." Mom was always encouraging me to read the other Norse myths and I think she was trying to protect me, but sometimes protecting someone too much can make them weak.

"Now," he says, stationing himself behind me, "wrap your other hand around the pistol and align both thumbs to point downrange."

"Okay." I try not to think about the fact that I'm wrapped in Anthony's arms. I don't want to think about him right now in that way when I'm here to learn these skills so I can save my mom. And besides, I hate him.

He encases his hands around mine and lifts the pistol up. "Now, hold the gun very firmly, and identify your target. Feet shoulder width apart, dominant foot forward."

I take my stance. "Like this?" I feel strong.

"Perfect," Anthony says.

"Now, focus your eyes on the center of the target." His cheek brushes against mine ever so gently. He shaved. No scruff. I curse under my breath at how easily distracted I am.

"Aha," I say.

"See the red dot?" Anthony says.

He smells so good. What's wrong with me? I scold myself for letting Anthony have this effect on me and remind myself that he might still be my enemy. With sheer willpower, I concentrate until all I can see is the red dot in the center of the board. "Yes, perfectly. Red dot in focus."

"Now, place your finger on the trigger, but don't pull it yet," Anthony says, loosening his grip around my hands, but still holding his hands there.

His chest is pressed against my back, and I remember what he looked like when I saw him shirtless on the beach. Focus, Sonia! Breathing steadily, I move my index finger from the outside of the trigger guard to the inside. For one who never thought she'd hold a gun in her hands, it comes surprisingly natural, and it actually feels like I've always known how to use it.

"Slowly squeeze the trigger. Don't jerk it. Jerking the trigger will throw off your aim," Anthony whispers in my ear, but I'm too focused now to let that sidetrack me. He adjusts the protective guard over my ear and takes a step back.

I squeeze the trigger. Bam! The buzz of the explosion sends blood whirling through my body and I can't help but smile, the kind where my cheeks cramp up. "I did it." Carefully, I hand Anthony the pistol, fling my glasses and ear guards into the dirt, and sprint up to the target.

"Sonia!" I hear Anthony yell after me, but I don't stop. "Sonia, you can't just run into the range! You could get shot!"

At the target, I see that the bullet has entered and exited through the red dot, and not just anywhere on the red dot, but perfectly in the center. I touch it, feeling the torn edges of where my bullet passed through.

I see Anthony running toward me, all the way, waving his hands frantically, yelling at the other shooters to stop shooting. "You can't just run into the range like that. You could get killed!" he yells at me. He stops and looks at the target. "See, told you. Let's have you try the semi-automatic setting."

"Great," I say, excited to advance to the next level already. "So...all Huldras have perfect aim?" I suppose it makes sense since I've never missed a goal in any sport.

"Yes, it's in our blood." We run back to our stall.

"If we all have perfect aim, aren't we just going to kill each other if we start fighting?" I ask.

"Possibly, but have you heard of a Darkálfar?" He picks up the pistol and adjusts the setting to semi-automatic.

"Yes...? Maybe. More like a Darkelves, though," I say, remembering a vague mention of Darkelves from the mythology section in my history class. I sit down on the bench.

"Maureen works mostly with Darkálfars, the...evil elves." Anthony lifts the pistol up and shoots a three-round burst with one hand, all hitting the center of the red dot in the distance.

"Are they all evil?" I ask. "They can't all be evil...?"

His eyes harden. "Yes, every one. It's in their nature." He lowers the weapon. "They come from the dark realm of Svartalvheim, meaning 'black elf home.'"

"Another realm?"

"Yes, have you heard of the nine realms in Norse mythology?"

"Yes, one of them is Valhalla, correct?" I say.

"Exactly."

I want to ask whether or not those realms really exist, but if the Darkálfars exist, it's self-evident.

"How many Darkálfars are there?" I ask.

"I'm not sure," Anthony says. "Could be dozens, hundreds or even thousands. Maureen has kept a lot of information from me. Your mom's not the only one to keep secrets." He glances at me, his eyes dark.

"Are all the Darkálfars on Maureen's side?"

"Not that I know of, but she could quite possibly have recruited them all to fight for her in this battle."

"Do you mean a literal battle?" I say.

He hesitates.

"Just tell me—please."

"Let me explain something first. Maureen has told me hundreds of times that her father beat her as a child. He was also abusive in many other ways."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I say, not really feeling sorry.

"Since then, she has sworn never to let anyone have power or control over her again and in trying to accomplish this, she has decided she needs to have the ultimate power."

"Then she must be more powerful than everyone," I say.

Anthony nods. "Something like that. Now how she'll manage to do that, I don't have the faintest clue. But if she can control enough people with her and Olaf's flairs, and her army of Darkálfars, it might not be such a far-fetched goal." He sits down next to me, his thigh resting against mine.

I try not to notice. "So we're two, and they are...an indefinite number?" I turn to face him. With an indefinite number of possible Darkálfars on Maureen's side, I can't imagine ever winning the battle against her and Olaf.

"Yes." He doesn't look at me, but the muscles in his face tense.

All hope vanishes from my core. "Don't you think we've already lost?"

"I'm not willing to give up on your mom's life just yet, are you?" Anthony says, his eyes passionate, and now looking straight at me.

Point taken.

"I have heard rumors that there are Lightálfars, too," he says.

"Are the Lightálfars the good guys?" I ask.

"I think so, especially since Maureen doesn't associate with them."

I feel a small flicker of hope emerge in the hopelessness that had previously paralyzed me. We need to find them. Surely, if there are Darkálfars in our world, then there must be Lightálfars as well.

"Now, let's focus on your lesson, shall we? We can talk about this later." Anthony places his hands on the tabletop and rises to his feet.

I stand up, pick up the Beretta, raise my right hand while aiming at the target, and pull the trigger. Bam! Bam! Bam! All bullets through the same hole in the center. Perfect! Maybe being a Huldra has its benefits after all.

Chapter 20

After school the next day, Anthony takes me directly to a shooting range he made himself, situated in the middle of a forest. There, he teaches me how to shoot a rifle, and after that he tells me he is going to show me a few basic self-defense moves. I like learning how to shoot a rifle—it's easy—but self-defense lessons probably won't come as effortlessly. I'm used to being graceful, but not to being aggressive.

"The human, Huldra, and Darkálfar bodies are all very similar. What I teach you today may be applied to all species."

"So how many species are there?" I ask.

"Many, but only what I've mentioned are in this war. Focus, Sonia."

I can't help but wonder what types of beings these other species might be.

"There are several points on the body that will cause a great deal of pain, if hit properly. Since you're not a large person, you need to go for the most painful ones immediately. A forceful blow to just one of these areas can put a quick end to the fight."

Anthony stands close to me and my pulse quickens. Why can't I just not care? He presses his palm squarely between my eyes.

"A forceful blow that lands squarely on the forehead can knock an attacker's head back, causing whiplash." He takes a step back. "Hitting the eyes is very painful, and it can also damage the opponent's vision, giving you time to harm them further."

"Okay," I say.

He grabs my shoulder and presses the heel of his hand against my nose. "A direct hit to the nose can lead to it fracturing and bleeding." His hand presses against my collarbone. "Striking the collarbone with adequate force will break it and disable your opponent. A powerful kick to the knee or groin is equally disabling." He doesn't touch me there.

I nod.

"There are two methods of attack I want you to remember."

"Two, got it," I say.

"When you hit a smaller area like the nose, eyes or groin, it's better to use your fist..." Anthony shapes my hand into a fist and continues, "your elbow..." he touches my elbow, "or your foot." He steps back. "When aiming for the head, chest or stomach, an isolated strike is best."

"How?" I say.

"With a knuckle punch. It's very similar to a normal punch, but you focus the force of the strike into your knuckles instead of your entire hand."

Anthony shapes it into a fist again. His hands are warm, and he traces my knuckles with his fingertips.

"Don't tuck your fingers in all the way." He helps my fingers release. "Then you strike your larger target directly with your knuckles. Don't try to use this style to hit a person's head since the hard bone might damage your hand."

He teaches me a few more self-defense techniques and then we're ready to put my newfound knowledge to the test.

"Take a wide stance and put your dominant foot forward," Anthony says.

I take my stance.

Looking down at my feet, he says, "Don't turn your toes outward like in ballet."

I turn my toes straight forward and it feels unnatural.

Now make a fist with your hands and keep them close to your face." He shows me how. "You want your weight to be on the balls of your feet, not in your heels."

"That's the only thing that comes naturally to me." I'm getting frustrated. This is hard work.

"Come on, Sonia, hands up to your face."

Oh yeah, I forgot about that. I lift them up again.

"I'm going to come at you slowly." He moves in my direction and presses his fist straight toward my face. I duck.

"Good," he says. We continue moving slowly for about fifteen minutes. My stamina isn't what it should be, and my muscles are already shaking from fatigue.

"Now let's try the legs. Kick me," he says.

I lift my leg and kick him in the side. I do it for a few minutes, but find myself winded.

"Harder, Sonia." His voice is impatient.

I kick harder, but he doesn't move at all. My legs are tired.

"Do I have to say harder?"

I clench my teeth and take a deep breath. This time I give it all I've got, but he moves out of the way so fast that I miss him completely. I fall belly-down on the forest ground. "Hey!"

His eyebrows arch, but he doesn't smile. "Not fast enough."

Now I'm angry. He's playing with me, and by his mischievous expression, I would say that he's enjoying it. I stand up and come at him, kicking the side of his knee, but his leg feels like concrete. He charges toward me and deftly moves to my back, grabbing me from behind. His cheek feels warm against mine and I hate that my mind is lingering on that instead of trying to improve my fighting skills. He's holding me so tight that I can't wiggle free.

"Come on, Sonia, what would you do if this were a real situation?"

"I don't know," I yell, struggling to get out of his grip.

"Think. If your mother were lying on the ground dying, what would you do? Don't practice half-heartedly." His voice is stern. "Do whatever it takes."

I scream and then elbow him in the gut as hard as I can, but it's to no avail—he's too strong for me. I'm furious now and hit him several more times, but nothing is working. He's got me in a deadlock and I'm quickly running out of steam. How can I get out of this? I do the only thing I think to do and turn toward him and lick his cheek. The surprise attack shocks him, and I see my opportunity. I lift my foot up and stomp his as hard as I can. He yells out in pain and I elbow him in the stomach again. He's taken off guard so he loosens his grip around me. I fling my arms open and I'm free.

"I did it!" I'm ecstatic.

Anthony, however, doesn't look too happy with me. He's holding onto his foot like he's in pain.

My hands hit my hips. "What, don't like being beaten by a girl?"

His eyes lock with mine and there's so much anger there that it frightens me. He grabs my arms and pushes me up against a tree. It doesn't hurt, but I'm frightened and my heart is beating nervously.

His face is one inch from mine. "You're not taking this seriously. Do I have to remind you that your mother's life is at stake? You'll never learn to fight if you cheat."

"I'll do whatever it takes, Anthony," I spew. "Wasn't that what you wanted?"

"What you just did won't work with others."

"It worked on you. Maybe it was my instinct."

"Instinct? Hardly. It was a cheap way to get out of a difficult situation. It teaches you nothing about the real world and the types of creatures we'll need to fight. We're done here." He slams his fist into the tree behind my head and trudges off.

I wait a while before I follow him. When I get to the car, he doesn't acknowledge me at first. Guardedly, I get in my seat.

"I'm sorry. I hope I didn't hurt your foot," I say.

"No, I'm sorry. I think—I wasn't expecting you to do what you just did, but I guess it worked to your advantage. Surprise attacks may not be honorable, but they are effective." He reaches his hand out and places it on my knee. "I hope I didn't scare you. I would never want to do that."

"You did, but I'm over it, and I know you would never hurt me." I take his hand for a moment and then let go.

"I'll be sure to not let my temper get the best of me, and you're right, I don't like losing to a girl, especially when I was the one who taught her how to fight." The left side of his lips rises.

"Well, I think I should take the credit for this one. It was, after all, my instinct that made me win," I say.

He looks over at me and smirks. "You're right, Sonia, good job."

I try not to smile too much.

* * *

"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.

Chapter 21

Friday morning, all graduating seniors are to meet in the auditorium at 8:00 a.m. and then head to the football field for graduation dress rehearsal. Ashley looks happy to finally be graduating. She'll be heading to the University of Florida in the fall, and I know I'll miss her dearly.

I didn't apply to a university this year. Before all this madness started, my mom insisted that I take a year off before continuing my education. I thought at the time that it was an odd request from a mom, but conceded to it anyway.

"To find your place in life," my mom said at the beginning of the school year. Only now do I understand partially what she meant. The transition to becoming a Huldra is proving to be turbulent.

Anthony took a taxi at 3:00 a.m., to catch the 5:00 a.m. flight from Tampa to Phoenix. He didn't wake me up when he left, but left a handwritten note instead, which read:

Sonia,

I'll try to be back by five o'clock for dinner. Roast with potatoes are my favorite.

Have a great day ~A

I laughed when I read it. I've never prepared a roast with potatoes in my life, and I'm not going to try to do it now. All day at school, I wait for Anthony's call, which finally comes at lunchtime.

"Hello?" I answer my phone in record time, getting up from my lunch tray where I sit next to Ashley. It's difficult to hear him over the lunchroom chatter so I walk into the hallway.

"Hey, it's good to hear your voice again," Anthony says.

I smile. It's good to hear his voice too, almost too good, I lament. "So, anything?"

"I want to talk to you about this in person, but yes. There's lots," Anthony says. "Lots more than what I anticipated."

"When will you be back home?" I ask, feeling like a lonely housewife all of a sudden.

"Depends on when dinner's ready," he says.

"Five p.m. sharp." I chuckle. "The best meat and potatoes you'll ever have."

He laughs. "I hope you know that I was just joking."

"Oh, thank goodness," I mock, "I was so worried because I don't really cook."

"I'll be home around five if the flight's on time. All I'll say is that there are many fewer Lightálfars than I thought, but they'll absolutely join us."

"How many?"

"Three," he says, sullenly.

"That's it?" My heart sinks as if to the bottom of an endless ocean. "Well, maybe that means that there aren't too many Darkálfars, either." Yeah, right, a little voice says inside my head.

"I hope that that's the case."

"That's wonderful, great work, Anthony!" I say, trying to be encouraging.

"Hey, is that a compliment I hear?" he says.

I let my guard down for just a moment. "Yes," I say firmly. I feel so vulnerable—why? It was only a compliment, right? "You did great."

"Well, while we're praising each other, can I say that...I think you're the most stunning person I've ever met?" he says.

"Wow, that's a little over the top," I say. Why is it so hard for me to be nice to this guy and accept his compliment? "I'm sorry, I meant to say thank you." Was that too honest?

"Well, it's true. So I hope you take it."

I can't speak, only smile. Stupid smile.

"I'll see you at home around five then?" Anthony says.

"Yes, have a safe trip."

He hangs up the phone. Am I actually really falling for this guy? I thought I just had a crush before, but maybe I'm starting to develop strong feelings for him. I remind myself that he's dangerous and that he might be the enemy. I can't let myself feel anything for him. I tell myself that I mustn't focus on him, but on saving my mom. I feel so selfish and it's just so wrong that I should think about Anthony, especially when my mom's life is on the line, and especially since my mom has specifically forbidden it. "What's wrong with me?" I say out loud.

"Nothing, you're just like you're supposed to be," Ashley says, coming up behind me. "Is everything all right?"

I breathe. I can share part of my story, I figure. "I kind of like Anthony...a lot...but my mom won't allow it."

"Well, on Sunday you'll be considered an adult, and can't you just do what you want to then?" Ashley smirks playfully, her right eyebrow rising.

"I suppose," I say, knowing that having a meaningful conversation with Ashley on the subject can never happen. It tears me apart because Ashley is such a good friend, and I'm unable to return the favor.

* * *

Anthony arrives home at a quarter to five, and I surprise him with a roast and potatoes I picked up from a local restaurant.

"I was only half-joking when I wrote that note this morning," Anthony says. His eyes are red and his face isn't as vibrant as usual.

"And I only half-cooked it," I say. "So tell me everything."

"Maureen called and she wants me to prepare the Portal of Blufire so we can leave in a few days."

My eyebrows rise up. "The what?"

He takes a bite of his dinner. "This is really good, Sonia, I didn't know you were such a talented cook." He scoops up some mashed potatoes. "It's a portal where we are immediately transported to Wraithsong Island. All portals lead there."

"Like an instant transfer?" I ask.

"I guess you could call it that," Anthony says, "I'll show you after dinner."

"It's here in this house?"

"Yes. There are three of them actually, and Maureen owns one of them. Well, technically she stole it from the governesses. They used to have two."

"Who has the third one?"

"It is an exhibit in the Viking Museum in Oslo, but the Norwegians don't know what it is or how to use it," Anthony says.

Was that why she had lived in Norway? "So, you walk into it and—zap?"

"Zap—I like that word, but no, it's more of a scorching blaze. It almost feels like your skin is being burned off," he says.

My face twists. I'm not looking forward to traveling through it. Scorching and blazing aren't exactly things I want to experience.

"Shifting gears, Skuld, the Lightálfar I met in Arizona, told me that they've been on Maureen's heels for years, trying to track her down," Anthony says.

"Why were they after her?" I ask.

"Because..." He clenches his glass so hard his fingertips turn white. "She killed some of them."

"That's horrible," I say.

He nods. "And she stole many things from them too."

"What kinds of things did she steal?"

"Important things, they say, but they weren't too specific."

"Are you being vague on purpose?" I have had enough of everybody's vagueness.

"No, she took things like important scripts with formulas and spells and also ancient weapons," he says solemnly.

"Well, now we can make it all right again, right?"

"I suppose we can try. It's like our whole world just exploded, and now we're left to clean up the mess."

"Nothing is so bad that we can't fix it." I reach for his hand, but he withdraws it right away. His rejection of me stings deeply, even though I'm not sure if I would want him to accept me. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No, there's not."

"We can't afford to have any lies come between us, Anthony," I say.

"Just because I'm not prepared to share my innermost feelings with you, doesn't mean that I'm lying to you."

"You can trust me to understand whatever you tell me; I hope you see that," I say as sincerely as I can and I mean it.

"I know I can," he says, gulping some water. "I guess this situation is so much more serious than I thought. Many more lives are at stake than yours and mine and the other Huldras."

"I suppose we've been a little lax on things lately."

He glances at me. "A lot more people are going to be involved in this, and we'll have to put our personal differences...and feelings aside."

I know immediately that I don't want that at all and I'm frightened by my nearly complete change of heart. "So what kind of powers do the Lightálfars possess?"

"I don't really want to talk right now," he says, lifting his plate with him. "I'll finish eating in my room. I'd prefer it if you stayed down here for a while." He gets up and leaves.

I remain sitting for a while, not knowing exactly what to do or how to read the situation. Did I say or do something wrong? I try really hard not to read into his actions tonight, but fail miserably. Since he said we need to put our personal feelings aside, I feel like I have lost something of immense value, but then again, if I never really had it, how could I have lost it?

Chapter 22

Graduation today was a mere distraction in my otherwise thoroughly messed up life. After receiving my diploma, I had to explain to my friends and teachers why my mom hadn't been there. "She had to travel to visit her very ill sister," I explained. I felt her absence deeply. I hate that the days are dragging on too long. We should have left by now and should have saved my mom. It's torturous that we're still stuck here waiting, especially since I don't know how much longer I'll need to wait until Anthony and I can embark on our rescue mission.

Ashley confirms with me that I'll be at the graduation party, and she gives me a hard time about not having been at prom the night before. I just tell her that since Anthony and I are dating now, we decided to do something else instead. She doesn't question me about it, being a little wrapped up in her almost boyfriend, Jimmy. I promise her I'll be at the graduation party, even though I don't feel like going. Anthony says that we need to keep up appearances, but it only makes me suspicious of him, and makes me think he's stalling. Proceeding with life as usual, in my opinion, is a waste of precious time. Nobody is watching us and nobody will miss us, except for maybe Ashley.

Our after graduation party is held at Christopher's on East, and the decked out ballroom is packed with seniors. A black banner with 'Congratulations Sarasota High School Seniors' written in gold hangs from the ceiling. Dozens of roundtables with white tablecloths and white covered chairs with black bows on them have been set up. I arrive with Anthony and we sit down at the table with Ashley, Jimmy, and another couple we don't know, but who disappear a few minutes after they arrive, probably to make out somewhere. Anthony has acted a little gloomy all day but is now in a much better mood.

Three tea light candles float in a bath of yellow and white rose petals in the middle of the table. We finish eating the chicken cordon bleu dinner and brownie with ice cream dessert and sit and talk about all the things that happened during our senior year, laughing extra hard when we talk about Savannah's personality shift. Anthony and I exchange glances; it's nice to have someone who knows what actually happened. After dinner, the lights dim even more, and the first slow song starts to play.

"Come dance with me," Anthony says suddenly.

"You dance?" I ask.

"A little, but not ballet." He smiles and then takes my hand in his, pulling me toward the dance floor. It's been a long time since he actually touched me, and without fail, I feel my Huldra desires start raging through my body. His touch stirs up the dormant desire in me, awakening the need to be close to him again. Reason seems to slip away effortlessly. I never want to dance with anyone but him again; it feels so comfortable, yet exciting at the same time.

Leading me onto the dance floor, he winds his way around a few seniors to the center. More students are coming up to dance by the second. He draws me in close, takes my right hand in his, and places his other arm around my waist. He seems unusually affectionate, making me think that he feels the attraction too, but I can't tell for sure because of his calm and collected appearance. I like how his hand rests on the small of my back, how his fingers interlace with mine, and how his breath breezes across the top of my head.

"You'll be eighteen in less than an hour." Anthony readjusts his hand around my waist, pulling me in a little closer. I like it so much more than I should.

"I know," I say. "Should I be concerned about that?"

"Hmmm...maybe." The sides of his lips tilt playfully upward.

"When is your birthday exactly?" I realize I don't know how old he is. He could be much older than I assumed.

"My eighteenth birthday was last year, in February. I'm actually nineteen now," he says.

I'm glad to learn he's not ancient. "So they held you back in school?" I ask.

"They start a year later in Europe, so when I moved here, they held me back a year, yes."

We dance on for a while in silence. "What was your eighteenth birthday like? Anything I need to prepare for that you could tell me?" I ask.

"It was—" Anthony looks up, the lights from the disco ball dancing across his face. "You know how all the fairytales have the 'at the stroke of midnight' in them?"

"Yes—?" I say.

"Well, that rule actually originated from ancient Huldra tales. At the stroke of midnight on a Huldra or Huldu's eighteenth birthday, their entire world changes. Instead of a magical spell being broken, it's the spell of your human eyes that will fade away. You'll begin to see humans in a whole new light."

"That sounds—exciting?" I'm not sure.

"Just remember, if you're not careful, you could pick up some bad habits the first year you're a grown-up Huldra."

"Like what?" My desire for Anthony increases by the second, and grows much quicker than it has before. Maybe that's what he's talking about.

"Unfortunately, your mom isn't here, so I'm going to have to teach you about some of those things tonight."

"What are you saying, Anthony?" I ask in a deep, inviting voice. Is he telling me he's going to be making a move on me?

"Nothing, but I want you to know that I won't take advantage of you in any way," Anthony says sincerely. "Besides, the education isn't about—well, that."

"Then what is it about?" I nuzzle in to his chest. He smells so good.

"It's more about learning to manage your urges to control humans, to make them do what you want, and about appropriating things the right way. You used your flair on Savannah, right?" Anthony says.

"Yes, and it was a fiasco," I say, remembering every detail. I haven't even seen Savannah since I told her to stay away.

"So you know how powerful your flair can be," he says.

"I guess, but I wouldn't mind experimenting some more with you." I don't know where that sentence came from. 'Experimenting some more?' I don't even know what I meant by saying that, but the thought excites me.

Anthony sighs. "Don't go there. You'll regret it later when you remember that you don't trust me and that you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you," I say, innocently, and I'm not. He mesmerizes me.

"Well, not right now you aren't."

"This is strange," I say.

"What?"

"I thought that we were immune to each other?"

"Yeah, I thought so, too," Anthony says, gazing into my eyes.

"I've always found you very attractive, Anthony, even before I knew who you really were or before I touched you. You're the first guy I've ever been attracted to," I admit.

He breathes slowly. "Thank you for the honesty, but you might not want to say more. Sometimes in the beginning it's hard to think straight, and your Huldra side will be all that drives you."

I don't understand why he's being so difficult. I run my fingers through his sweaty hair. It's so sexy.

"We should go," he says, trying to pull me with him off the dance floor.

I resist. Looking at him, I press my body close to his. It's as if I have no control over my own actions. These feelings are so foreign, and normally I would be extremely embarrassed about the way I'm acting, but not tonight.

"Sonia, I know what you're going through right now, and it's best if I take you home," Anthony whispers in my ear. "In fact, I shouldn't have brought you here."

I like how his newly shaved skin feels on my cheek. I want to kiss him. I laugh a little at the forbidden idea. "Did you know that I find you extremely attractive?" I kiss him gently on the cheek, trying to whet his appetite for more.

He stiffens up. "That's what I'm talking about; your Huldra side is taking over, so we should go."

"Are you taking me back to your place?" I giggle. Giggle? I've never been this giddy in my entire life, but it feels wonderful, like I'm being drugged by my desire for him. He awakens the dormant Huldra in me, and I want to have him, to control him and for him to be mine—forever.

"Yes, we're going home, but I'll be lecturing you, not bedding you," he says angrily and leaves me standing alone on the dance floor. I laugh as this has all become a game for me. Then I see Tyson across the room, standing with a group of his football friends. I'm surprised I hadn't noticed before how attractive he is. He's wearing a white dress shirt and the top two buttons are undone. His hair is messy—I would love to run my fingers through it. His lips look blood red and I bite my lip as I saunter over to him. All I can think about is enveloping my lips around his, taking his hands and putting them on me. I take his hand and he smiles as I walk backward, pulling him onto the dance floor.

"Sonia," he says, his eyes intense and willing.

I let him pull me closer and we start swaying to the music. "Kiss me," I say.

Tyson leans forward and I close my eyes. I feel Tyson's breath on my face, but before our lips touch, his arms release my body. Opening my eyes, I see Anthony punching him in the face. Tyson falls to the floor, but Anthony is quick to pull me with him.

"Anthony!" I say, feeling bad for Tyson as I look back at him. "Sorry!" I say to Tyson who's still recovering from the blow. Maybe Anthony is jealous and that makes me smile. I wasn't trying to make Anthony jealous; I just wanted someone to kiss me—that's all, but I don't have the time to explain that to Tyson.

"We're leaving now!" Anthony yells. "Get your stuff." Back at our table, I pick up my purse. I begin writing a quick note to Ashley on a napkin, saying that we needed to leave.

"You can text her when we're in the car," Anthony says.

"All right, all right, Mr. Grumpy," I say. He's so hot when he's angry.

Anthony hauls me with him outside and pays the valet before we jump into the car.

"What was that all about?"

"I just wanted someone to kiss me and you didn't want to kiss me, so I thought I'd find someone else."

He scowls. "Forty minutes as a human, Sonia, that's all you have. Let me tell you what's going to happen."

"Why do you have to be so serious? I just want to have some fun," I say.

He shifts gears and speeds down the dark road. "Yeah, but I'm not going to let that happen. You'll despise me later if something happens between us because you'll understand that this isn't what you really want, and that you're not thinking straight."

"I am thinking very straight, thank you very much." I see his resistance as a challenge to overcome and know he'll give in to me eventually.

"At midnight, you're going to lose your human eyes."

"Are you telling me I'm going to go blind?" I tease.

"Stop making this into a joke. You're going to see every human as they are, their soul and all. You'll be able to see their aura, and what virtues and values they possess—everything. From the moment they were born to what brought them to where they are in life. If a person is patient, you'll be able to see that. If a person is afraid, you can see that too."

"So you're saying I'll be able to tell just by looking at them what type of person they are and if they possess certain character traits?" I say.

"Exactly!"

"And I can read their past?"

"Yes."

"So...can you see my character traits, Anthony?" I ask, my hand making its way over to his thigh. He grabs my hand and abruptly moves it back to my lap again. I huff. He is making this very difficult.

"Your human ones, yes, but once you're an adult, and lose your humanity, I won't be able to see them anymore."

I almost feel sad, but losing my humanness seems like such a trivial thing in this moment when Anthony is so close to me. "So will it be like losing a part of me?"

"Yes, but what you gain in return is so much more awesome," Anthony says.

"Tell me about my human side." I lean toward him and run my fingers through his hair, tugging on it gently. He doesn't stop me, but I see that his knuckles turn white around the steering wheel.

Taking a deep breath, he says, "You're loving, kind, considerate, and slightly moody all the time. You're also very conscientious."

I nod in agreement. "Did you pick up on my discipline too?"

"Yes, very." Anthony laughs for a moment, but then he grows serious. "Your aura is one of the most beautiful ones I've seen."

I smile and let my fingers glide underneath his shirt at the base of his neck. My heart quickens. "Tell me more."

He glances at me briefly. "The first time I saw you, and saw your aura, I knew that I was standing in the presence of someone special."

"But you were so...rude to me," I say, remembering our first meeting in the greenhouse where he called me an albino.

"I didn't know how to act. I was angry with Maureen for wanting me to spy on you and eventually harm you, so I wanted to keep my distance."

That's plausible. "What happens after I lose my humanity?"

He stops at a red light. "You can pick and choose which character traits, talents and virtues you want to appropriate from humans, so it's extremely important that you select carefully. You don't want to pick up traits that you're not sure you want because you'll never be able to get rid of them."

"So it's as if I'm building myself up again from scratch?"

Anthony's eyes squint. "Not really from scratch. You'll still be you and have all the personality traits and virtues you've acquired throughout your life, but you'll be able to add to your virtues at will, and in a manner of seconds."

"It's like a second chance at life!" I'm excited about my forthcoming experience. "So can I steal stuff from you?"

"No. Huldras can't take from other Huldras or Huldus, unless they kill them. The only thing you can give away is..."

"My fifth Huldra gift." I finish his sentence.

"Exactly."

"So what have you appropriated from humans?"

"Today, I appropriated self-restraint," he says and smiles smugly.

I give him an evil look. "From who?"

"A priest—you wouldn't know him. The sensual urges are the strongest urges a Huldra has right after she enters adulthood. That's why they've all gotten such a bad reputation, but think about it, did your mother have any of those tendencies?"

"No, so she must have appropriated virtues from other humans," I say.

"Yes."

"So when we appropriate these virtues, do the humans we take them from lose those strengths?"

"Yes, so it's important to know how to appropriate the right amount. I only appropriated about ten percent of this priest's strength because that was all I needed. The trick is to not get greedy and take more than you need, for if you do, both the human and you will suffer," Anthony says.

Now I'm curious. "How do you do it exactly?"

He turns into his subdivision and drives through the gate. "You'll know. I actually have an apprentice priest meeting us at the house. I told him you were interested in learning about his life. He's a twenty-one year old virgin, so I think he's perfect for the first test."

I slouch back in my chair and grumble. "This should be interesting." I point to the clock on the dashboard. "Twenty-seven minutes to go."

* * *

Back at Anthony's house and with twenty-four minutes before midnight, Anthony and I change into more comfortable clothes. I slip into the new jeans he picked up at the mall, and a scoop-neck dark gray floral-patterned t-shirt. Anthony looks handsome in his dark jeans and thin white linen short-sleeved shirt. My urges have mellowed a little, and I'm able to somewhat decipher between my Huldra urges and human urges. Having some physical distance between us lessens my desires, I figure. I tell myself I can resist him if I want to, but that's a big if.

"The apprentice priest will be here in a few minutes," Anthony says. "His name is Karl, and I know him from soccer. He helps coach some of the kids."

"How did you get him to come at such a late hour? Wait, did you use your flair on him?"

"A Huldus flair is called might, and yes, but it was an accident a few weeks back. I try not to take advantage."

"Except for now," I challenge.

Anthony rolls his eyes, but doesn't answer me.

We sit down in the living room and Anthony turns on the TV. "What do you want to watch?"

"I'm not a big TV fan." I sit down next to him. "Anything, really."

Anthony flips the channel to a soccer match and we watch for a few minutes. Being so close to him again, smelling his cologne, feeling his warmth, I can't resist reaching out and taking his hand. The skin-to-skin touch causes my urges to come back in full force and before I know it, I have to have him. I lift my leg up and straddle him where he sits.

He grabs my upper arms as if to restrain me. "Sonia—no."

But I'm not having it. I look him in the eyes and lean down so close that the tip of my nose touches his, and then I lick my lips.

Anthony hesitates for a moment, but then he gets this wild look in his eyes and I know he wants me too. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he lifts his chin up and presses his lips against mine. Softly at first—almost too soft. Then he moves his lips across mine and the kiss comes to life. He grabs my hips, and then slides his hands up to my waist, then to my back and then to my face.

"Anthony, I want you so bad," I say. "I know I shouldn't, but I just can't stop." All my hesitation, my anger and my distrust—gone.

"I want you too, Sonia, but not like this. I won't let it go any further than this," he says between kisses.

"Good, because I won't...be able to...stop."

"Don't worry, I will." But he doesn't stop. He flips me onto my back and climbs on top of me, his body pressing heavily against mine. I feel how strong he is and I can feel his muscles move underneath his thin linen shirt beneath my fingertips.

Can this be more heavenly? Is this love? Or is it lust? All I know is that it feels right. His hands make their way to my shoulders, and move to my back. He gently pulls me closer. That makes my heart race even faster and I let out a sigh. He kisses a trail down my neck and to my chest, stopping at the edge of my shirt. Don't stop. Please don't stop. His hand continues down my waist and he grabs behind my leg, pulling it up toward him.

"Sonia, you are so irresistible," he says.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings.

"Don't answer it," I plead. I weave my fingers through his soft blond hair and pull at it gently. He lets out a laugh and comes in to kiss me again—deeply. My lips part and he takes full advantage. His tongue makes its way into my mouth, and I return his indulgence with great approval. His kisses are wet and deep, his hands hungry. Continuing to kiss me, he sits me up and pulls back.

"Don't answer the door," I say.

He looks at me, his eyes sad, and then straightens out my hair. "This will be the only time."

"What?"

"Soon, you'll understand."

"No, I won't," I say, still wanting him.

He kisses me again, like it is the last time he ever will. His lips moving with tender emotion, with repressed passion. Then all too soon, he's on his feet and answers the door.

The last time until when? Forever? I don't want that, or at least not at the moment. He left me so high and so wanting; I don't know how to come back down. With my heart still racing, my knees still weak, I stagger to my feet. I straighten my clothes and go into the guest bathroom to make sure I look decent. My makeup looks fine, my clothes a little wrinkled, but who cares. The virgin apprentice priest won't know.

Back out in the living room, I see Karl. I thought he would be wearing a black robe of sorts, but instead, he's wearing black suit pants and a light blue button up shirt. His face, however, looks almost exactly like I imagined it would. He has mousy-brown hair that's slicked and parted to the right and he's extremely conservative-looking, and about as un-sexy as they come. His nose is definitely the centerpiece of his face, long, crooked and trollish. Don't judge him so harshly, I chastise myself.

"Hi, I'm Sonia, nice to meet you." I stretch out my hand to greet Karl.

"I'm Karl, good to meet you too," he says without a smile.

"Let's have a seat, shall we?" Anthony says, gesturing to the couch we just made out on. I smile a little, and think I see a smirk on Anthony's still more-red-than-usual lips.

Chapter 23

The clock reads 11:59 p.m. I have no idea of what to expect the next minute of my life and for the rest of my life. Life was so predictable before my dad died, so stable and safe. After he died, so many things crumbled around me. My mom wasn't there for me emotionally, I stopped my ballet lessons, and lately, everything has turned upside down. I peer over at Karl, sitting on the couch, his back as erect as a board, looking so innocent and completely unsuspecting of what is about to happen to him. Anthony chose a perfect specimen. Karl doesn't seem to have a single sensual bone in his body.

"So, Anthony tells me you want to hear more about a clergyman's life?" Karl says.

I nod and raise my eyebrows as I paste on a smile. "Sure," I say, patting Anthony on the knee, a little harder than just a friendly pat.

"Sonia just wants to find out a little more about what you believe," Anthony says.

"I see," Karl says, his hands gripping his knees.

Twelve midnight hits. I'm expecting an explosion, or a jolt, or something severe to happen, but instead, a peaceful sensation overwhelms me, causing tingles to make their way through my body, and goose bumps to speckle my skin. Then, suddenly, I see something. Is that light coming from Karl? An aura of subtle blues, pinks and greens radiate from his being. I can understand everything about him, from why he went into the ministry in the first place to all the fears and hopes that drive him. When Karl was young, his drunkard father beat him and his mother. Finally at thirteen, Karl stood up for his mother, and instead of Karl and his mother being beaten up, Karl knocked his father unconscious. After that he had run away. But instead of turning out like his father, Karl committed himself to living a peaceful life, and now he's looking to use what he learned to help others. Somehow I know that above all else, Karl yearns for peace and to help others discover that peace also. In order to escape all that he suffered, he knows he needs to give back what he had been robbed of—a happy childhood.

"Is everything all right—Sonia?" Karl asks, looking behind him.

I didn't realize that I'd been staring at him. "Oh, sorry, no, I just..." I glance over at Anthony, feeling my eyes widen.

"She's just very excited, that's all," Anthony says. "But nervous, too. Please forgive her for staring and making faces at you." Anthony squeezes my thigh.

Karl laughs awkwardly. "Of course," he says gracefully. "What questions do you have for me?"

I'm at a loss for words because I see so many beautiful things about him. I see how much he loves his mother and father, and how he yearns to be loved in return and unconditionally for who he is. I see his whole life flash before my eyes, and feel nothing but compassion for him. It nearly brings me to tears.

"Sonia?" Anthony prods.

I shake my head and try to come up with a suitable question. "Do you believe that God loves everyone no matter where they come from or what they do?" It's the best thing I can manage to come up with. Karl's aura is so beautiful and bright that I just have to look at it. Then, to my great dismay, I find myself wanting to take possession of it—all of it. I look over at Anthony again, my thoughts and heart wild with desire for possession, but also riddled with guilt for having these selfish desires.

"Yes, He loves everyone, but the question is whether or not we love Him, and if we're willing—" He continues to speak, but I don't hear him.

"You can do it," Anthony whispers, patting me gently on the knee. "Take what you see that's thwarting his progress."

My hands are sweaty, and I start to twitch, so I go to stand up, but Anthony holds me down. Focus, Sonia, focus. What do I want from him? Oh, yeah, prudishness, I think. No, not prudishness, self-restraint, self-control, but not too much. Ten percent—no more. That sounds like a good number to shoot for since that was what Anthony took from the priest. I look over at Karl and concentrate fully on his aura and what I want to appropriate. Self-restraint, self-control, low sex-drive. No, no, not low-sex drive! Okay, think only about what I want.

I look at Karl more intently this time, and focus all my strength on self-control. Give me ten percent of his self-control, I think. Then, as if by magic, part of his aura separates from the rest of it and floats over to me. It looks blue. I lean back when the aura comes close, afraid of what it will do to me. The aura approaches slowly, causing my heart to race, and when it finally merges with me, my mind absorbs the power with a tingle.

Anthony looks at me. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," I say, wondering if he saw the floating aura too.

We both look over at Karl who has stopped talking. "I feel great," he says leaning back, stretching his legs out, grabbing the armrests of the chair.

I think I may actually have done him a favor; he looks refreshed.

"Try one more thing, like temperance," Anthony whispers when Karl isn't looking at us.

Does he think I need that? I'll go for another one, like...faith. Okay, focus. Ten percent faith. I look at Karl, sitting much more relaxed now, and set my intent. Another aura—white this time—separates from his and floats over to me. I don't lean back this time, but lean into it, accepting the virtue when it comes. I feel strengthened and empowered and can't help but smile.

"I said temperance," Anthony says and kicks me subtly.

"I didn't want temperance," I blast and rise to my feet with a jolt.

Karl looks confused.

"Sonia isn't feeling so great tonight, Karl. Can we reschedule for another night perhaps?" Anthony says.

"Sure. I have your number, so I can call you back next week," Karl says.

"Sounds great." Anthony walks him to the door and comes back. "You're going to need temperance," he says.

"I liked faith better," I say. "The auras were different colors, did you see that? Is it always like that?"

"Yes," Anthony says. "Now, the trick is to find a person who has the qualities you want, but they have them in so much excess that it would be better for them if you appropriated some of it."

"I think Karl liked having a little less...restraint," I say and smile broadly.

Anthony laughs. "I think so, too. Did you see how he relaxed after you appropriated it?"

I nod.

"So the question is, how do you feel?"

"Well, like me, I suppose, but it was crazy, I actually saw his aura, and his entire life. Did you know that his dad used to beat him and his mother, and that now all he wants is to find peace?"

"Yes, he's a really good guy."

"So I'll see those kinds of things in all humans?" What a beautiful gift.

Anthony nods. "You'll get used to it. Eventually, you won't even notice it if you don't really focus on it."

"I felt such...compassion toward him. I still do."

"It's a humbling experience. Our powers can be used for so much good."

"And evil," I say, remembering the overwhelming urges I felt to control him and take possession of all his strengths, destroying him.

"But you wouldn't choose that." Anthony nears me.

I shake my head. "No, especially since I have now appropriated self-control." I step closer to him. "Can I try something?"

"Sure," Anthony says.

I interlace my fingers with his. The electricity is still there—just as strong. I rise onto my toes and lift my chin. Our lips almost touch and I notice how his breath hitches. I want to kiss him, and I almost do, but I pretend as if I feel nothing, brushing my lips feather lightly across his lips. My attraction to him isn't any less than before, and I pull back, but I'm better able to resist him. The appropriation worked.

"All good?" he asks.

"Yes." Instead of thinking about him, I think about the loss of my humanity. I feel a little sad, as if I have lost a companion that has been there to protect me my entire life. I continue to hold on to Anthony's hand a little longer and our gaze lingers safely in each other's.

"Tomorrow, we'll go appropriate some more things you are in need of now that your Huldra side is fully born, all right?" Anthony says.

"Sounds like a plan." I really want Anthony to know that I still care for him, that the spark is still there, but think it best that I wait with that conversation until after things have settled down. Hopefully things will settle down.

Chapter 24

At 3:00 o'clock in the morning, Anthony wakes me up. His hand feels like a whisper on my cheek. "I got the text and Maureen wants us to come immediately."

"What, right now?" I rub my eyes, trying to fully wake up.

"Yes, let's pack and get going," he says.

This all seems very strange and it feels like I'm dreaming. Thinking about being transported through the Portal of Blufire frightens me. Anthony leaves the room and I force myself out of bed and take a quick shower. As soon as I'm dressed, Anthony returns with a tray of bagels and fruit.

"I don't know how long it will be until we'll have food again," he says.

"So how are we supposed to win the battle against Maureen and Olaf with just the two of us? Are the Lightálfars meeting us there?"

"I don't know," he says, spreading some jam on a bagel. He hands it to me.

I'm not really that hungry—I'm too nervous to eat, but I take it anyway. "What do you mean you don't know?"

Anthony gets that 'I don't want to talk about it' look in his eyes. "We'll have to develop a plan as we go."

"Okay, time out," I say. "Can we at least talk about this? I mean, all of our lives are at stake. We can't just jump into this blindly."

"I have a loose plan figured out," Anthony says defensively.

"Will you share it with me, please?" I ask.

He sits down onto his bed. "The plan is, when we get there, we pretend as if we're following Maureen's plan. So whatever she wants, we'll go along with that for a while."

"That's a ridiculous plan," I say. "Please tell me you have a better one."

His eyes lower to the floor and for a moment, I see a young man who has weaknesses and doesn't always have the answers. I sit beside him and place my hand on top of his.

"You don't have to do it all alone. Let's figure a plan out together, you and me."

He glances at me from the corner of his eye and sighs.

"What is it?" I ask.

"I've always had to figure everything out on my own, so surely, I can manage this time too."

"I can help, you know. I'm not completely useless."

"I know you're not useless, Sonia. That's not what I said at all. It's just—it has always been that way, and—"

Of course he's always had to figure things out on his own—Maureen is his mother. From the couple of conversations between them that I've witnessed, I get the feeling that Anthony is more of a burden and a mere tool to be used than a son to be cherished. Maybe he thinks he's weak if he doesn't figure it out all by himself.

"You're just as strong, if not stronger, if you work with someone," I say.

His eyebrows furrow and his face has become tough. "Not having the answers makes me feel—" He doesn't finish his sentence.

"Weak?"

He doesn't nod, but instead closes his eyes and presses his lips into a line.

"You're not weak, Anthony, not in my eyes. I think you're amazing."

He huffs, as if my statement is ridiculous. "You wouldn't say that if you knew who I really was."

I tighten my grip around his hand. "I know who you really are, and anything else that I don't know doesn't matter."

A faint smile appears on his lips, and he nods toward me. "You and me, huh?"

"You and me," I say, finding strength in his eyes. "So, is there any way we can delay our trip to give us more time to plan with the Lightálfars?"

"What about your mom?" he says.

The mention of my mom nearly brings me to tears, but I manage to swallow the tears away. "Would Maureen—kill her between now and when we show up?"

"Not likely. She's using your mother as leverage to get your fifth Huldra gift. As long as Maureen still believes I'm on her side, following her plan, she won't deviate from her strategy."

"Makes sense."

"I can tell her that I want you and your mom for myself. I'm convinced she'll let me have you after you've given your gift to her," Anthony says.

"So you think I should just give her my gift?"

"That's not what I meant." He frowns. "As long as Maureen believes she'll receive your gift, she might not be thinking about or care what happens to you after you have given her your gift. But of course you're not going to give it to her. We'll just say so to buy more time."

There has to be something we can do instead of just wait around for Maureen to give us orders. I think for a while. "We shouldn't be on the defensive here—we should attack. Are you certain my mom is being held prisoner on Wraithsong Island?"

"I'm almost one hundred percent positive."

"What about the weapons? We're bringing some of those, right?"

"Yes, of course," Anthony says.

"Can we delay our trip just a few days and get the Lightálfars here to Sarasota?"

Anthony puffs. "Maureen is highly suspicious and she'll know I'm stalling."

"Then we need a good reason to delay. What would a good enough reason be?" I ask.

"Only death, I think," Anthony says dryly.

"Okay, a realistic reason," I say. "An emergency of some sort—a big one—one that's believable. Would there be any reason you can think of that would prevent us from transporting through the Portal of Blufire?"

"No. Well, if the house burned down, the portal would be destroyed," Anthony says.

"Could we burn down the house? I mean, I'd hate to do it, but if it would give us a few more days..." I say.

"Or, what if we just tell Maureen that the house burned down, and then you can use your Huldra flair on a news anchor, so they'll do a story on the news about the fire. We could spare the house," Anthony says.

I'm not sure if he is being sarcastic or not because that suggestion might actually work, though it does sound a little extreme. "Wouldn't Maureen see through that?"

Anthony stands up and starts pacing. "Maybe, but obtaining a few more days isn't worth losing the Portal of Blufire. The portal could be very useful for us down the road."

"True." I sit and think for a while.

Anthony's eyes light up. "You know, humans can't actually transport through the Portal of Blufire because the fire will sear them to death," he says. "Only Huldras or elves can. I'll tell Maureen I'm worried about killing you if we transport you since you are technically half human. Actually...it might kill you because you are half human, now that I think about it."

Well, that is new. "Well, since I turned eighteen, am I not solely a Huldra?" I ask.

"Well, theoretically, but even so, we don't know for sure since no other half human has ever been transported through the portal and come out alive," Anthony says.

"I think we just found ourselves another day or two," I smile.

"We'd have to fly up, or drive, if we can't get a flight."

I think for a moment. "Convince her to let us drive. That way we'll have a vehicle while we're there. We could take my mom's SUV and stash it full of weapons."

"Now what would we have to say to make Maureen agree to that?" Anthony asks, pensively.

"Well, you could always say the flights are full, or make sure they are. I'll be glad to book them all." I grin.

"Good plan," he says. "Let's get going right away."

* * *

On our way over to my house, Anthony makes the phone call to Maureen. She buys our plan without hesitation.

"Smart thinking, Anthony," she says. She isn't pleased to hear that all the flights are full, but of course our flight story is very believable since it is the start of everyone's summer vacation.

Back at my house, I rummage through my room, pick up a few of my favorite outfits, some jewelry and some extra pajamas and stuff them in my large duffle bag. The house looks exactly the same as the last time I was here, but for some reason the air-conditioner has been turned off, and the house feels as hot and humid as a sauna. Before getting into the car, I pick up the black birthday envelope I received in the mail.

"What's that?" Anthony asks when I open it. He turns the engine on and lowers the temperature on the temperature control. It's a sweltering day already.

"I'm not quite sure yet. When Olaf visited me in my dream, or vision, or whatever it was, he referred to this envelope, saying there were instructions in it of what to do next."

"Olaf sent you this?" Anthony asks.

"Yes." I begin reading it.

Happy eighteenth birthday, Sonia. From Olaf and Maureen.

I flip the card over, searching for any other writing, and on the back I see a PO Box number. "That's it?" I'm highly disappointed.

"Well, let's not worry about it anymore. Actually, can I see it?" He grabs it from me and then flings the envelope and card out the window.

"What did you do that for?" I ask.

"There might be a tracking device on it, so we wouldn't want that on our road trip," Anthony says.

"Oh," I say, feeling stupid that I let my curiosity possibly put us in jeopardy.

"While you were inside, I contacted Skuld again, and she says she's on her way to New York with the other two Lightálfars. We'll travel together up to New Hampshire and to Wraithsong Island."

"Great," I say, but I'm suddenly very nervous to meet them.

Chapter 25

"We'll be in New York in about thirty minutes," Anthony says. We have driven over eleven hundred miles in less than fourteen hours, only stopping a couple of times to use the filthy gas station restrooms along the way. I text Ashley to wish her a great summer vacation, and explain that I'm already on my way up to Kensington. When she said she would miss me and to stay in touch, I started to cry because from here on out, I know things will be very different.

On our way, every time I meet a person, I notice their aura and see their whole life story. Each individual I encounter has a lifetime of memories as rich as Karl's. I feel bad for some, for they have grown bitter, letting life's hardships keep them from all the goodness around them. Others have taken the bad and turned it into a learning experience, and yet others, have taken the bad and turned it into something beautiful.

It's nearing midnight, and my legs feel so stiff that I have to get out of the car before they wither away forever. Finally arriving in New York, Anthony pulls into the Bergdorf Goodman Plaza parking garage. He parks on the seventh floor and we head for the entrance. "I've reserved a private room in the restaurant where we'll meet the Lightálfars."

"I'm starving." I scan the restaurant as we wait to enter the private room. Mauve chairs stand handsomely at each perfectly set table. A large brown leather couch stands by a low table in the center of the bar room and in front of a large abstract mural. The mural separates the bar from the dining area and serves as a station for hostesses.

"May I have your name?" the hostess asks Anthony.

"Jensen."

"Welcome back," she says, checking her computer screen.

"Thank you. It's always a pleasure to be here."

I wonder why he's been here before, and how many times, and why he didn't mention it in the first place. I also notice that the hostesses' aura is darker than other people's I've seen. I blow it off, thinking that maybe it's just the dim lighting.

"I hope your meal is enjoyable." The hostess grabs a couple of chestnut-brown menus, smiles, and signals for us to follow. We pass the marble countertop bar, and several tables decked with crisp white tablecloths and fancy silverware. A plate here must cost at least a hundred bucks.

The hostess shows us into a smaller room set up for a private party. "Can I get you started on any drinks?"

"Sparkling water for me," I say, parched after such a long trip. I tried not to drink so much on the way so that we wouldn't have too many bathroom breaks. Anthony pulls out a white framed, mauve-cushioned chair and bids me to sit. The window gives me a perfect moonlit view of Central Park.

"Same for me," Anthony says. "Can we get started on the appetizers immediately? Deviled eggs and the ahi tuna. Does that sound good, Sonia?"

"Sure, I'll eat anything," I say.

"Enough for five people, please," Anthony says to the hostess.

The hostess leaves and comes back with our sparkling water. "The rest of your party just arrived and they say they'll be in shortly."

"Great," Anthony says. After the hostess leaves, he sits down beside me and rests one elbow on the tabletop. "I called the Porter Hotel Central Park before we left and reserved two double bedroom suites."

Just then a man and a woman enter the room. I can't see their auras at all, so I gather they must be Lightálfars.

Both Anthony and I rise to greet them. "Nice to see you again, Skuld," Anthony says, shaking her hand. "I'd like you to meet Sonia." The word I think about when I see Skuld is fair. Fair as in pale skinned, and fair as in beautiful. Her straight blonde hair reaches her waist, and her eyes are an intense green. She's wearing white jeans, white heeled slouch boots that go up to her mid-calf, and a tightfitting white tank with rhinestones. Her lips are full and glossy, her cheekbones pronounced, and she looks like the ideal woman with curvy hips and a round bosom.

I step forward, feeling slightly intimidated. "Pleased to meet you," I say, shaking her hand. I notice a tattoo of a dove on the inside of her wrist.

"Pleased to meet you as well." Skuld smiles at me warmly and then steps back. "This is Rosson, he goes by Ross."

"The pleasure is all mine," Ross says, reaching his hand to greet Anthony and me. Ross looks like an amateur body-builder, not too grossly muscular, but almost. His black hair is crazy messy and he has a small nose, and small lips, but a nice sized chin with a generous cleft in it. He's wearing only gray and green and I see tattoos on his upper back peeking up from beneath his collar.

"Mani will be here in a minute," Skuld says. We all sit down around the table.

I feel a little underdressed in my jeans and hot pink t-shirt, but we're not exactly here to impress each other, so I try to get over it quickly. After the initial small talk, Anthony gets down to business.

"I've reserved two double bedroom suites at a local hotel. As soon as we leave the restaurant, we should head straight for the hotel and come up with a strategy for our attack. Then we can go over it again tomorrow and finally head to Wraithsong Island the day after," he says.

My stomach tightens. I don't feel prepared at all to attack anyone, and now that the big event is just around the bend, I don't know what to do with myself.

"Good. We talked a great deal on our way up, and I believe we have a good chance of defeating Maureen and Olaf," Skuld says.

"What do you know about the Darkálfars?" I ask.

"We think there are only six left, so we're not outnumbered too badly," Ross replies.

"The one thing we do have on them is the element of a surprise attack," Anthony says.

"Hello, I'm Mani," a handsome blond man says as he walks into the restaurant's private room. He immediately focuses his attention on me. He isn't as muscular as Ross, but still well built, and looks like he just jumped off of the cover of a men's magazine. His deep brown eyes pierce my soul, and I feel that, just by looking at me, he can read my thoughts, my intentions and my feelings. He's wearing a t-shirt that shows off his tan and toned arms, and several tattoos of snakes and dragons.

I stand up and shake his hand. "Hi, I'm Sonia," I say, hoping I won't blush. I find him extremely attractive. Maybe that's why I haven't ever fallen for anyone; I've only ever been around humans.

"I'm Anthony." Anthony interrupts Mani and my handshake by reaching his hand out.

"Pleased to meet you both." Mani sits down no more than an inch away from me.

Anthony, sitting on the other side of me, seems annoyed by the newcomer. I smile when I realize that Anthony is acting jealous, and it feels like payback considering all the crap he told me about his fictitious girlfriend.

A waitress walks in with the appetizers and sets them on the table. I notice that her aura is normal, like all the other humans I have met lately, but slightly more blue. Just by looking at her, I know that she is a single mom, struggles to keep food on the table for her and her three children, and that she is dating a great guy who is thinking about proposing to her.

I glance at Anthony and he looks back. He knows too; I see the sincerity in his eyes.

"Ready to order?" the hostess says. We put our orders in and the hostess leaves.

"So, I have to admit, I don't know a thing about Lightálfars." Acknowledging my ignorance up front might help ease some of my anxiety.

"Okay, who wants to bring the lovely Huldra up to date?" Skuld says.

"I will," Mani volunteers. He turns his chair to face me. "Do you want me to start at the beginning?" His voice is deep, his eyes flirtatious.

"Sure," I say.

Anthony clears his throat and interrupts our conversation. "I think a brief history will do."

"Sure, sure, of course," Mani says. He winks at me, and I feel my cheeks flush. "In the beginning we lived in Alfheim, one of Yggdrasil's nine realms."

"Yggdrasil?" I vaguely remember something about that name from the Norse Mythology section in my history book.

"Yes, the world tree, or the universe, as people call it today. There were nine realms all together. Midgard, where the humans lived, was one. Valhalla where the gods lived, was another. Helheim, where the spirits of the dead resided, was another, and so on."

"Oh, okay."

"Alfheim, the realm where we lived, was the fairest of all the realms. But when all the realms were destroyed in an inter-realm war, only Midgard remained in this universe. Valhalla was thrust into another galaxy and was renamed Heaven. The old gods all died and a new God was crowned King of the heavens. Helheim remained here on earth and is still here and where all supernatural beings go when they kick the bucket. The reason we cannot see it though, is that it's in another dimension. At the end of the war, only two humans were spared, and those two humans were Adam and Eve. Darkálfars and Lightálfars also remained on earth."

"So you were the three remaining Lightálfars?" I ask.

"No, in the beginning there were thousands of Lightálfars, and Darkálfars in fact, but over time, the wars with the Darkálfars slowly erased all elves from earth, sending them to Helheim, the realm of the dead."

"We destroyed the Darkálfars, and they destroyed us," Ross says. "But we wanted peace, not war, and freedom, not captivity, for humans. That was the difference."

"So this war between the Lightálfars and Darkálfars has been going on since the beginning of our world as we know it?" I ask.

"Don't they teach you anything in the Huldra Academy?" Ross interrupts.

"Sonia just turned eighteen on Sunday," Anthony comes to my defense.

"Oh, so she's like a complete greenie? She really doesn't know anything then, does she?" Ross's voice is condescending.

"No," Anthony says. "Only what I've taught her."

I feel extremely inadequate, to say the least, and Ross isn't exactly killing me with kindness. "I'm sorry I don't know..." I say.

"Sonia, you don't have to apologize, that's just Ross. He's a real jerk sometimes and though he's thousands of years old, he still hasn't learned how to behave around a lady," Mani says, taking my hand and stroking it softly.

Ross chuckles, like he's entertained, and like he's proud of Mani's description of him.

I feel uncomfortable that Mani is holding my hand, but I don't want to be rude to Mani, so I don't object.

"Do Lightálfars have any supernatural powers?" I ask.

"Do we have any special powers?" Ross spews. "My, you are ignorant, aren't you?"

Mani shoots Ross a stern look. "Just let me tell the story, will you?"

Ross leans back into his chair and smiles mockingly. "Go ahead then." He gestures with his hand to have Mani continue.

"We are not bound by physical limitations like you are." Mani lifts up his glass, releases his grip on it and it remains hovering in mid-air.

"Wow," I say. "Anthony, look!"

Anthony looks over, but he doesn't seem impressed.

"Show off," Skuld laughs. "That's the least impressive thing we can do. Sonia, what he's trying to say is that the physical world you see does not limit us. Gravity does not limit us. We can control physical objects with our minds, we can see through them, and we can even warp time."

"However, for each supernatural quality we have, the Darkálfars have a counter-quality. They can create anti-gravity barriers and they can prevent us from controlling or manipulating objects too," Mani says.

"The only thing we have on them, is that Darkálfars cannot block our ability to warp time," Skuld says.

"That's amazing!" I'm spellbound by their powers. "How long can you warp time?" Thinking of my dad, I wonder if they can you go back years or decades.

"We can warp time for about a minute. That's our limit, we've found," Skuld says. "And only once every twenty-four hours."

"Can Darkálfars warp time, too?" Anthony asks.

"No, but they have another ability we don't. They can shape-shift," Ross says.

"Into what?" I ask.

Skuld shakes her head, her blonde hair reflecting the lights above. "Basically into any mortal being."

"Hey, greenie, ever heard of werewolves or vampires?" Ross asks me as he's chewing on a toothpick.

"Yes..."

Ross just nods his head. "Exactly."

All those creatures are just Darkálfars? "So there are no werewolves or vampires, only Huldras and elves?"

"Bingo," Ross says.

"That's not exactly true, Ross. There are other creatures in Helheim that could come to earth, and have in the past."

"Yeah, but they're not here now, and we don't want to overwhelm the greenie. But one thing you do need to be aware of," Ross says, glaring at me, "is that Darkálfars can shape-shift into people you know too."

"That sounds tricky," I say.

"It is tricky. That means anyone can be a potential Darkálfar. They can even create a fake human aura around them, so there is no way of telling the difference," Mani says.

"There's also Olaf, who can sneak into anyone's mind and steal information, if you're not careful," Anthony says.

"We believe Maureen has bestowed Olaf with more supernatural abilities. I see him as our number one threat besides Maureen." Skuld eats a few appetizers.

"What supernatural powers does Maureen possess?" I ask.

Skuld props her elbows on top of the table and leans forward. Watching her, I think she moves more like an angel than an elf.

"She is a Huldra like yourself, but her powers far exceed yours, Sonia. Not that you can't grow your powers to be as strong as hers, but she has had thousands of years to develop them," she says.

I don't disagree with Skuld, but when someone else says that I'm weak, it feels so much more harsh and real.

"We're going to have to protect you," Mani says. "Since you're the new kid on the block. I'll make sure you're safe." He smiles and then touches my knee under the table.

I wonder if he flirts like this with all unsuspecting girls, or Huldras.

The original hostess comes in with three others, but they are not carrying our food.

Guns. They're carrying guns!

The hostess points her gun toward Anthony, and she pushes my chair to the floor so I tumble off of it, and shoots Anthony in the chest. Blood splatters everywhere.

"Anthony!" I'm in absolute shock. He falls on top of me, his body lifeless. The hostess kneels down and aims the gun at my head. I think my life is over. My mom's beautiful face flashes before my eyes and I feel so sad that I'll never get to see her again. I see my dad's kind face too, see him picking me up after I fell off my bike when I was five, kissing my injured elbow, telling me everything will be fine because Daddy's here. I see Anthony in the greenhouse, wearing his faded jeans and his Liverpool shirt and then I remember the first time we kissed, how wickedly wonderful it felt, and how much I care about him—more than I thought I did.

Before the hostess can shoot me, Mani shoves her to the side. "Let's warp time."

Though I don't quite register what Mani says, I nod. A light so bright that it blinds me flashes in my eyes. Suddenly, I'm back in my seat, taking a sip of my drink. It's as if the past few moments never happened.

"Can Darkálfars warp time too?" Anthony asks, clearly oblivious to the fact that he was just shot in the chest and died.

I gasp, and grab his arm, my hands shaking violently. I remember sitting here before—or after this. "You're alive!" He looks confused by how frantic I am, but I know we have less than a minute to get out of here, so I act immediately. "We have to run! The elves just warped the time back about a minute, and the hostess is coming for us, and she has a gun!" I yell. My mouth is parched and it's hard to swallow.

Anthony catches on right away and joins the elves, who have already gotten up, and look as if they're searching for an alternate exit door.

"There's only one way out," Mani says, pointing to the door.

"How did they find us here?" I ask. It takes everything in my power to keep it all together. The image of Anthony's dead body is still fresh in my mind, and it refuses to go away.

"No use in contemplating that now. If we stop to think, we'll be dead." Mani grabs the gun he has in his black leather boot and lifts it up near his face, ready to shoot if needed.

"We'll have to exit this way." Skuld opens the door and looks both ways. She has a small silver pistol in her hand. "The coast is clear." She signals for us to come and we all steal toward the parking garage.

"Stop!" I hear the hostess yell behind us. I don't look back, but instead pick up my pace and run as fast as I can toward the exit.

"To the car—follow me!" Anthony grabs my hand, hauling me along. The Lightálfars are able to shoot down the two others, and then they follow us into the parking garage and run toward their car.

Bullets zoom past us, and the few people who are in the restaurant are screaming. "Call 911!" I hear someone yell, but I'm not going to risk my life to try and find my phone in my purse. Besides, the hostess is only after us anyway and will hopefully not shoot at any late-night customers.

Sprinting into the parking garage, I rummage through my purse to find the car keys. When I can't find them, I pour the contents of the purse out onto the asphalt and pick up my phone, wallet and keys, leaving everything else on the ground. But before I'm able to move on, the hostess catches up with me, and shoves me to the ground. The keys, my phone and wallet go flying through the air, landing a few yards away. I also see that the hostess has dropped her gun. I hop to my feet as quickly as possible, just like Anthony taught me, and try to reach the gun. But the hostess pulls me back, comes at me and I duck. Once I stand up straight, I thrust the base of my hand into her nose with all my might. She screams and grabs her nose, thick, red blood oozing from it. Refocusing her attention on me, she lunges toward me and locks her arms around my waist. As I plummet to the ground I accidentally kick the gun and it skids across the concrete, ending up underneath one of the parked cars. Falling down, I hit the concrete, my head slams against it, and I let out a cry. Anthony is right there and pulls the hostess off me, flinging her in through the revolving door we just exited. He has already picked up my belongings and we dash toward the SUV.

Right when I lock my door, the hostess appears in front of the window, aims her gun toward me and shoots several rounds. I duck, expecting the glass to shatter, but only loud thumping sounds can be heard instead.

"Did your mother have bulletproof windows installed?" Anthony asks, revving up the engine.

"She must have." Thank you, Mom!

Anthony backs up, the hostess still firing bullets at us. Then as Anthony drives forward and is about to mow her down, she vanishes into a swirly smoke of blackness.

"A Darkálfar!" Anthony yells. "You know what this means, right?"

"Maureen knows we're working against her and that we're in contact with the Lightálfars," I say, barely able to speak. "And we no longer have the element of surprise on our side."

Chapter 26

Anthony speeds through the tight and twisting maze of the parking garage, the tires of the SUV screeching at every turn. I feel the back of my head and notice there's a tender bump there from falling on the concrete.

"How do you know Maureen won't know which hotel we're at?" I ask.

"She won't, trust me. I've dined at the Bergdorf with her before, so I should have known she had her spies there."

"How do you know she doesn't have them at the hotel, and how did she know we were at the restaurant in the first place?" I say, trying to hold onto my seat as best as I can. The SUV slides on the slick concrete and I feel dizzy and nauseated.

"I don't know anything for sure, Sonia. Any other hotel is just as safe or unsafe, in my opinion. Even if we went into the woods and slept, we still wouldn't be safe." Winding through the parking garage, Anthony finds his phone, opens the window, and flings it out. "Give me your phone."

"Not if you're going to—"

He grabs it off my lap and flings it out the window too. "There could be tracking devices in them and that might be how Maureen found out where we were."

"Oh." She could even have been listening to all our phone conversations and that's how she knew where we were. "Do you realize what just happened back there? The Darkálfar shot you in the chest, and I watched you die!" The image of his dead body is burned into my mind.

"What are you talking about?" Anthony says.

Maybe he doesn't remember what happened back there because he died. "The Lightálfars warped the time back after the hostess shot you in the chest!" I start to cry. I hate crying in front of Anthony because it makes me feel weak.

"I died?" His face goes white.

"Yes, Anthony, you died!" Tears flood my eyes now and I let out a sob.

"I can't believe my own mother tried to have me killed!" Anthony's voice trembles with rage. "Obviously she knows I lied to her and now she's furious, but what's worse is she knows we're here. We need to come up with another plan. Shoot, shoot, shoot!" He slams his fist into the steering wheel. "I don't know how to get to Wraithsong Island."

"The Lightálfars might know, Anthony." I sniffle. My hands shake uncontrollably, so I brace my chest in an attempt to calm down.

"Okay, that's true." He settles down a little. Finally at the ground level, he turns right onto the street. "The Darkálfar could follow us to the hotel, so I'm not going to head there right away."

My legs are achy, and my back is tight. I really don't want to sit in the car anymore after our lengthy road trip, but I know we need to take extra precautions in order to be safe.

Once at a stoplight, Anthony looks over at me. "Everything will be fine." He takes my hand in his, holding it for a long time.

I want to believe him, I really do.

* * *

Two hours later, with no sightings of the Darkálfar following us, we pull in front of the hotel.

"Welcome to Porter Hotel Central Park," the doorman says. He's wearing a dark gray suit, matching hat, and gold buttons at the collar, attire I'd usually see on a doorman in the movies. "Is there anything I can do for you right now?" He closes the car door with his white glove-covered hands.

"No thanks." I'm so exhausted physically and emotionally that I can barely manage to get my words to sound like English.

The doorman grabs our bags from the trunk. "Follow me, please." He orders a young-looking valet to park our SUV. We enter into the large foyer through the gold-framed glass doors and the concierge smiles warmly when we approach the marble counter.

"Good evening. What's your last name, sir?" the concierge asks.

"Jensen," Anthony says.

"Mr. Jensen, welcome to Porter Hotel Central Park." She types a few things into her computer. "I show two—two bedrooms with park views reserved for you. Is that correct?" Her smile is calm and sweet.

"Yes," Anthony says.

I wander off toward the sitting area. The tan marble floor is so glossy that I see my reflection in it. Brown leather couches sit on either end of diamond-shaped wooden tables. Rows of fluted wood pillars line the walls and crystal chandeliers hang from the ceilings.

"Ready?" Anthony asks. He offers his arm to me in a very gentlemanly manner.

I manage a miniature smile and gladly take his arm. It helps calm my frazzled nerves. "Yes. Have the others arrived yet?"

"No, but I called them and they'll be here in an hour or so," he says. We enter the elevator.

My stomach flutters when the elevator ascends upward and again when it stops. The hallways are much roomier than at other hotels I've stayed at with my mom. If I wasn't so traumatized, I might have enjoyed staying here.

"Ah, here we are," the doorman says, stopping at our entrance. "So are you two honeymooning?"

"No," I say and feel my cheeks flush hot. "We're just on a graduation trip. We'll be meeting up with some other friends as well."

"That sounds like fun. I remember when I was your age, oh that must have been forty years ago, but I took a trip to France with my old pa'. I'll never forget how long it took to climb the stairs to get to the top of the Eiffel Tower! My legs were sore for weeks after, I tell ya. Nice view, though. If you ever get a chance, France is the place to visit." He opens the door.

"I'm sure it is," I say, stepping into the room. The room looks like an apartment for a king or queen with floor to ceiling windows. I can see most of New York and possibly even all of Central Park. I follow the doorman around.

"Here is the master bedroom with a full bath." The ivory duvet and amethyst pillows scream for me to come and lay in them. "Here's the attached bath." Granite countertops with two vanities stand to my left when I enter, and a huge whirlpool tub is situated at the end by the window. I can't wait to soak in a bath.

The doorman continues over to the other side of the living area. "Here is the other room with a queen-sized bed, and it also has a full bath. Here is the living room as you can see, and the dining area."

I nod.

He walks over to the foyer again.

Anthony flips on the flat screen to a soccer game and sinks into the bronzed leather couch. He seems to be in a completely different universe.

"Anything else I can get for you while I'm here?" the doorman says with a smile.

"No, that will be all, thank you." I just want to unwind and go to bed. I feel like I've been blown up by an atomic bomb, and I'm trying to hold all the particles in my body together.

Anthony comes into the hallway with a hundred-dollar bill. "Here, thanks for your help, sir."

"Thank you," the doorman says. "I'll be here all night, so if you need anything, don't hesitate to call."

After the doorman leaves, I immediately start unpacking, stacking my clothes into the espresso colored eight-drawer dresser in the master bedroom. "I'm going to take a bath," I say. "I need to unwind from everything."

"Okay," Anthony says, not in his usual energetic voice.

He sounds like he needs some encouragement, so I sit down next to him on the couch.

"Are you all right?" I touch him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he says without looking at me. When I don't get up, he looks at me. "What's up?"

I breathe. I don't want to force him to open up, but it might help him if we talk about what just happened. "Well, your mom did just try to kill you, and I can't imagine what that must feel like."

"I'd rather not talk about it right now. I just need to relax for a bit." He smiles at me, but his smile is strained and his eyes are still worried.

"Okay, but just know that if you need to talk, I'm here," I say. I'm so grateful that he's here with me, and that he has so willingly risked his life so I could get my mom back. I can't imagine what he must be going through, how he could possibly process and make sense of what his own mom tried to do—and actually did. I rest my hand on top of his for a moment, offering the measly support I can. When he doesn't respond, I leave to go take a bath.

Chapter 27

I thought that an Epsom salt bath would have helped me relax. But since it's quiet I keep thinking about my mom and how her life is in the hands of a woman who just a few hours ago killed her own son. Each time I close my eyes, Anthony's dead body is right there in front of me so I keep them open, even though my eyelids feel heavy. I have to let these images and thoughts go, or I'll drive myself insane.

After my bath, I put on my pink and white-striped pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. My worry continues to build when I think about how brutal Maureen's people are. They would kill us at the blink of an eye with just one order from their leader. My mom must surely be in pain and must fear for her life, and I'm certain she is worried sick about me too. I wish I could communicate with her somehow and tell her that I'm all right. After agonizing for some time, and then beating myself up about it, I go out to sit down next to Anthony. His eyes are still glued to the TV screen.

"Hey, did you notice something strange about the hostess' aura?" I ask, trying to understand what happened in the Bergdorf Restaurant.

"I noticed that it was darker than normal, but I didn't think at the time that it was unusual. Darkálfars don't have auras, so I gave it no second thought," Anthony says. "I should have, though. It was a stupid mistake on my part."

"Mani did mention that Darkálfars could make it look like they have auras," I say.

"Yeah," Anthony says, clearly not engaging himself in our conversation.

"I've been thinking more about this whole gift of mine, and I might as well let Maureen have it. Then she'll leave us be and she'll have what she wants, and I get my mom back."

Anthony's lips slope downward. "Do you think she'll stop at your gift? Do you really think she'll give you your mom back?"

"I—"

His eyes suddenly ignite with anger. "Here's what she'll do, Sonia. She'll kill you, and me, and the other Lightálfars and Huldras, and then she'll continue her devious appropriations until there's nothing left to take," he says bitterly.

Something tells me he's right. I can't trust Maureen to do what she says based on my own values or morals, for Maureen has a completely different set of values she lives by. "I just thought that she thinks the way I do, and that she would honor her word, like I would."

Anthony's lips narrow and his expression relaxes a little. Placing his hand on my chin, he caresses my lips with his thumb. "That's why you're so wonderful. You would do the right thing."

I kiss his thumb, but he quickly drops his hand. I look at the gold ring on his finger and again notice that the crest looks like a lion holding a Dane ax with goat horns, and around the beast, some type of vine or serpent design. "I meant to ask you before. Where did you get your ring? You always wear it."

"My father gave it to me before he left." He twirls it around his ring finger and blinks at a faster rate.

"It's beautiful," I say.

"I wish...my father..." Just then, there's a knock on the door. "I'll get it," Anthony says. He gets up, peeks through the security hole in the door and opens it to allow the Lightálfars to enter.

"The doorman said we'd find you guys here," Skuld says. She's just as alert as before. I, however, feel like I need to get some rest before I lose my ability to think clearly.

"Any more sign of the Darkálfar?" When Skuld shakes her head, Anthony says, "I'll get the key to your room and you can get settled in. I think we'll call it a night because of what happened."

"I agree," Skuld says.

"Can you come over at seven o'clock tomorrow morning for breakfast? We can strategize then," Anthony says. Skuld nods and Anthony fetches the keycard from his wallet and hands it to her.

"Any more adventures since we separated?" Ross asks.

"No—you?" Anthony says.

"Nah, we just went shopping for some candy," Ross says.

Anthony explains to me that by candy, Ross means ammunition and weapons.

"I don't think what we brought with us from Arizona is hefty enough, if you know what I mean," Ross leers.

I laugh nervously, though no one else does. It's well past midnight, and my body has started shutting down. "Good night," I say. "And thank you for helping."

"This war has been going on forever. We want for nothing more than the death of Maureen, the Darkálfars and the rest of her wretched gang," Ross says.

Skuld clears her throat. "Just one more thing before we leave."

All eyes focus on her.

"We connected with the other nine Huldras. All of them, except for one, will be here tomorrow."

There are nine others like me? I can't wait to meet them.

"Great," Anthony says. "It could mean the difference between our defeat and our victory."

"Well, sleep peacefully, we have a lot to do tomorrow," Mani says, his eyes lingering on me for a moment.

"Good night to you, too," Anthony says, nearly pushing him out the door.

After they leave, I brush my teeth and hop into bed.

Anthony meanders in to my room, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. He's holding a huge book and I'm certain that it's the same one I saw him holding back at his house in Sarasota. "What do you think you're doing, Madam?" He's serious.

"Going to bed," I say plainly, feeling agitated because I think that my sleep time might be under attack. "I'm exhausted, scared and not in a good mood. This week, I've had my mom kidnapped, learned that I know nothing about who I really am, and have seen my friend killed and brought back to life again. I'm tired and I'm going to sleep."

"No, you're not. We have lots of work to do and I need to catch you up on everything you've missed at the Academy—tonight. You get three hours of sleep, that's it; the other hours we'll be studying." He plops the huge black leather-bound book onto my bed.

"But I'm so tired," I whine. I don't think I'll be able to handle another ounce of anything tonight. "We can get up early tomorrow and then I'll be in a better mood, I promise."

Anthony creeps across the bed, his eyes intently connecting with mine and I wonder what he's doing. He plunges forward and presses his lips to mine before pushing me down to the mattress, lying on top of me. When he kisses me passionately, my pulse suddenly quickens and I forget in an instant that I'm sleepy. I thought I'd be able to resist him now that I appropriated some self-restraint from Karl, but no, not at all. My body responds immediately to his; the excited feeling awakens my senses and my mind. Anthony pulls my shirt up so my abdomen is exposed. He caresses my skin, and I moan and shiver, but not from being cold. My hands slide beneath his shirt and his skin is so smooth and warm against my fingertips. Gasping, I feel heat building in the deepest part of my core and I'm confused because he said he wouldn't be kissing me anymore. Flipping him over onto his back, sitting on top of him, I say, "I thought you said last time was the final time?"

"Yes, but I can't have you falling asleep on me when you have so much to learn, now, can I?" Anthony says with a sly smile.

"Wait...what? You did this so I would wake up?"

"Absolutely," he says, grabbing my hips.

"You're so...I can't believe..." I snatch a white down pillow and hit him with all my might.

He flips me over onto my back, his hands around my wrists, pinning me to the mattress. Then he kisses me ever so gently. I love how his lips move across mine, gliding and tickling like a feather, and oh, so tantalizing. He can't be doing this just because he wants to wake me up, for his kiss is too sincere and too full of desire for that. He continues to kiss me, more passionately now, his tongue exploring my mouth, and I feel my heart rate doubling in an instant.

"Awake yet?" he says, retracting his lips away from mine.

I look at him as seductively as I can. "Are you going to finish the job you started?" My heart leaps in my chest at how daring I've become, but I think he wants me too. For a moment I know we have the same thought. We're here alone, both wanting each other, both highly awakened to each other.

He grunts and his expression grows troubled. "I can't, Sonia, no matter how much I want to I—"

"I meant studying," I say as innocently as I can, knowing full well that I'm playing him. "What did you think I meant?"

"Sure, that's what you meant," he says sarcastically.

"It was—was there something else you had in mind?" I say, biting my lower lip.

He laughs, but quickly turns serious. "No really, I can't. We can't."

"What do you mean?" I ask, now curious about what he means.

He sits up. "I don't want to talk about it. Let's study."

"Really, you're going to pull the I-don't-want-to-talk-about-it line on me again?" I'm more than upset.

He shakes his head. "I'm not going to go down that path tonight, Sonia. Many other things are at stake."

I try to understand, but his refusal to talk about it hurts.

"Okay, so here's the Book of Huldras." He reads the gold-embossed title from the front cover.

Pushing my desires away, I let the subject go, knowing I can't win this battle. The book is about six inches thick and the size of Anthony's laptop. It looks new and the cover is black leather and the interior pages, a rich cream color. "We're supposed to read through this whole thing?"

"Yes," he says.

"Tonight?" I hear my whiney, annoying voice, but I can't help it from coming out that way.

"I'll condense some of it for you, but the more we get through tonight, the better," Anthony says.

"I'm not a speed reader. As a matter of fact, I'm the opposite." I feel completely overwhelmed. The kind of overwhelmed that makes me freeze up so I can't think or reason or move.

"I'll help you," he says. "Listen, it's not as bad as you think. We'll just take one page at a time."

"Okay, but this book must be like four thousand pages long!" I say, exaggerating.

"Actually, it's six-thousand-two-hundred-forty-four-and-a-half." Anthony sounds chipper.

"Oh, my bad," I say and let myself fall into the mountains of white down pillows. The word that comes to mind? Impossible.

Chapter 28

I don't stop him, except for a few questions here and there, until two-and-a-half hours later, when we come to a passage about inter-marriage between Huldras and Darkálfars. I'm sitting on top of the bed with a pillow wrapped in my arms.

"Huldras or Huldus and Darkálfars are explicitly forbidden to marry one another. Huldras or Huldus may only marry each other, or humans, or Lightálfars because of the following reasons listed below. There are no exceptions to this rule," Anthony reads.

"That makes sense," I say.

"How so?"

"If I married a Darkálfar and we had a child, the child would become evil, wouldn't it?" I say.

"That's the common belief among the governesses."

I get the sense that he doesn't agree with the law. "Do you have reason to doubt it?"

He doesn't answer right away, appearing to struggle with whether or not to share something. "No," he finally says.

"Well, I wouldn't want to marry a Darkálfar anyway," I say, lightheartedly.

He gets a pained look on his face and then his cheeks redden. "It's one of the strictest laws of the Huldras."

He's acting like he's hiding something from me. "Is there something you'd like to share?"

"No."

I remember Anthony telling me that he wouldn't kiss me again and I wonder if that has anything to do with this information. "Just know that you can tell me anything."

He nods.

"What would happen if someone broke the law?" I ask out of curiosity.

"They would be banned from the Dynasty and would never be allowed to return or associate with Huldras or Huldus ever again. They become outcasts."

"That's rather harsh, isn't it?" I ask. "What if the Darkálfar was good?"

"There has never been a good Darkálfars. The governesses see it as a betrayal of our own kind and it's looked upon as seriously as the killing of another Huldra or Huldu."

"Then it's a good thing we don't have to worry about that."

Anthony closes the book and then hops off the bed. "Let's call it a night and I'll quiz you in the morning."

I follow him. "Can I ask you something—about us?" I don't want our time together to end though my body is yelling at me to go to sleep.

He faces me again. "I'm not sure that we should talk anymore tonight since it's so late, and you need the rest."

"Screw the 'should!' We've been through nightmare after nightmare this week and I don't care about any shoulds anymore."

He laughs a little. "All right." He comes back to the bed and sits on top of the mattress.

"I need to know something." I face him and inch closer, my knees propped up against the mattress between his knees. He wraps his arms around my waist and I play with his hair.

"All right," Anthony says, his beautiful blue eyes looking up at me.

I take a deep breath. "When I saw you...die back there at the restaurant, something occurred to me."

"Yes?"

"I know I've only known you for a few short weeks, but—" I huff; this is very difficult. Putting my feelings into words? Impossible. My breathing shallows. "Geez, this is so hard," I whisper. "Why did you...choose to help me over your mom?"

Anthony pulls me in close, his cheek leaning against my chest. "Because I know Maureen is in the wrong, and I really like you—a lot."

Just like that, he's said it, revealing that he feels the connection between us, too. I smile and relax my body against his.

"I've never been attracted to any girl other than you, and I've never had such a hard time trying not to think about someone, because I know I shouldn't." He pauses. "Does hearing me say that frighten you, Sonia?"

"Yes—no. I'm only afraid that we can't..."

"Be together?" He looks up into my eyes.

I nod slowly, and he rises to his feet, kissing me tenderly once.

"When did you know you...wanted to get to know me more?" I ask.

"The second I saw you in the greenhouse, I knew I was in trouble, but I didn't know how much trouble I was in quite then. When you came to visit my house I couldn't help myself from wanting to kiss you. It was as if my body took over and the rest obeyed, and after that, I couldn't keep my mind off of you." He pauses. "We should be together, you and me."

I can't help but smile. I smile because he cares about me and in all the years I can remember, I never thought I'd find anyone who would understand me so thoroughly.

Chapter 29

I wake up in Anthony's arms, resting on his warm chest, his heart beating steadily against my ear. The scent of him is enough to awaken life in me, and having him this close, feeling his body heat against mine, only intensifies my feelings. I run my fingertips along his bare arm. He shifts, and I look up into his wakening eyes.

"Good morning," he says.

I smile. "Good morning."

"Sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you." Our hands interlace and I burrow the side of my face into his neck. I don't want to get up and end this blissful moment since we probably won't have too many of these moments again. The future is too uncertain and there are no guarantees that we'll live through this ordeal. I could die, Anthony could die, my mom could die, and it will be as if none of us ever existed.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks.

"I was just thinking about how wonderful this is, and how we might never—" I can't complete the sentence. Saying it out loud makes it sound so much more real and I don't want to bring the hopelessness of our reality into this perfect, but all-too-brief moment.

"So let's enjoy it for a few minutes." Anthony kisses my forehead and at that, I creep closer and kiss him on the lips. "I hope we'll have a happy ending."

"The ending will be happy if I'm with you," I say. "And my mom." I'm surprised how easily the confessions of my heart come now. "There has to be a way we can win," I say, sitting up.

"Let's think about that in a minute," Anthony says. "I want this to be a beautiful moment without worries of what might or might not be."

I lie back down onto his chest and nuzzle into him. "Me too." Though I want to, I can't fully enjoy lying here in his arms because I'm worrying about what's happening to my mom.

"So tell me something interesting," Anthony says.

"Like what?"

"Well, you never told me how you found out that I was a Huldu," Anthony says.

I chuckle lightly. "Okay, first it was the fact that I was attracted to you. I've never been attracted to anyone before, and I thought there was something wrong with me since I hadn't, you know, liked anyone in that way."

He laughs.

"The second clue was the fact that my flair didn't work on you. I asked my mom if anyone was immune to a Huldra's flair and she said only other Huldras and Huldus, and elves. So I thought you could be one of those, unless my Huldra flair was just pathetic."

"Well your Huldra flair was far from pathetic, especially since it worked on me," Anthony says.

"But I didn't know for sure until you told me."

"That wasn't a very pleasant moment."

"No," I say, remembering the intense car ride away from the ballet where we'd gotten in an argument. "The first time I thought you might like me was when you kissed me on the couch in your house. I felt it in your kiss that you wanted me."

"Yeah, I couldn't hold back any more, and it was really hard for me to not...take you up on your advances that night."

My heart leaps in my chest.

"I tried to make sense of my feelings for you because I've never been fascinated by another human and your aura was so beautiful compared to any other human's I'd ever seen," Anthony says.

"Really? It seemed to me that you wanted to get rid of me." I look up at him.

"Well, initially, yes, I did, because like I told you, Maureen wanted me to get to know you when she suspected that you were a Huldra, and she wanted to take you for herself. I didn't want to be part of that."

My cheeks flush with blood. Coming from him in this moment and in this way, his words and deep voice entrance me and keep me wanting more. "So when did Maureen realize that I was a Huldra?"

"After you visited my house the first time, Maureen knew. She has the ability to know exactly what a being is. She said you were special and that she wanted to have your fifth Huldra gift."

"But you said you had spied on me for months? Didn't she know before that?" I ask.

"I did spy on you before that, yes, but we still didn't know for sure if you were a Huldra or not. That's why Maureen wanted to meet you, so she could know."

"Stalker," I say.

"It wasn't like I was hanging out at your house night and day. I had to balance school, work, and soccer too."

"Stalker." I hit him in the chest.

He laughs. "Sorry, that was the old me. One day, and before Maureen knew, I saw your mom, and she didn't carry the human aura. I didn't tell Maureen because I still wanted to get to know you somehow."

"Did you set Principal Jenkins up to make me weed with you?"

"Well, I had asked him to find someone to help me weed the front of the school, but that was mainly so I could spend more time—stalking you to see if I could figure out if you were a Huldra or not," he says.

"Did you use your Huldu flair on Principal Jenkins to make me have to weed with you?" I ask.

"No, it just happened to work out on its own, assisting my plan in working out perfectly, even better than what I had planned."

"Fate," I say.

"I don't believe in fate," Anthony says.

"Our ancestors, the Vikings, did, and I think I do too." I pause to hear his reaction.

"Most people don't know what they believe in and just flow through life like driftwood," Anthony says.

"I believe I was fated to meet you."

Silence. "And I you," he finally concedes.

A knock at the door interrupts our conversation and Anthony gets up to answer it.

"Are you Anthony?" I hear someone ask. The voice sounds a lot like my mom's.

There's a moment of quietness, and then I hear rushed, angry whispers.

I shoot up and out of bed and run to the door. There, I see my mom and cry out because I'm so happy and relieved to see her. There's something strange in the way Anthony and my mom are interacting and it almost seems like they know each other and are arguing about something.

"Mom, how did you escape?" I say, hesitant to approach at first. When she sees me, her eyes light up, and when she opens her arms wide, I jump in to her embrace, all my hesitation gone, clinging on to her as if she could vanish at any moment. The agony of having lost her melts away with the tears running down my face. "Are you all right? Did they hurt you? You look so weak." I pull back and search her eyes, but to my horror, I find no peace there. Instead, I find desperation that I haven't seen since my dad died.

My mom has bruises on her face and arms, and though her clothes looked fabulous before, they're now dirty and torn. I remember that in one of my dreams, Olaf had broken her arm, but to my relief I see no injury.

"Listen to me very carefully, Sonia," she whispers and then pulls me with her to the living room away from Anthony. "Anthony isn't who you think he is. He's the one after your fifth Huldra gift, not Maureen."

At first, her comment doesn't register because of course it can't be true. I shake my head a little. "No, he's helping me find you, helping me save you." I know my mom would never lie to me about this, keep secrets, yes, but not lie, no. Maybe she's delusional because of all the torture or has somehow been misinformed.

"Sonia, I promise you it's true," my mom says.

I can hardly get myself to consider the words she has just spoken. Disbelievingly, I look at Anthony.

"Sonia, she's lying! This isn't your mother; this is an imposter, a Darkálfar. She has shape-shifted so she looks like your mother, but it's not her." He storms toward my mom as if he intends to assault her, but I step in front of my mom, creating a barrier between him and her. "Stop!"

When Anthony stops, I look back at my mom. She looks exactly like my mom, her expression, her smile and even the soft creases around her blue eyes.

"Sonia, this is ridiculous. You know it's me," she says. "Don't listen to him, for he's the Darkálfar—the liar, and he was the one who kidnapped me, and kept me imprisoned, not Maureen or Olaf. Come with me so we can travel to Wraithsong Island to start your training with Maureen."

"Anthony has been training me," I say.

My mom turns me around to face her, grips my arms and stares in to my eyes. "He's after your gift, do you hear me? Now let's go before he grabs his gun and shoots us both."

"I'm not after Sonia's gift. Sonia, don't listen to her, this is a set up!" Anthony says.

I don't know what or who to believe. My mom takes my hand and pulls me toward the door, but Anthony steps in front of the door, preventing us from leaving.

"Let us go, Darkálfar," my mom says.

"I am not a Darkálfar," Anthony says.

My mom turns toward me again. "Sonia, I was so worried about you," she says, caressing my hair. "I didn't know if Anthony had done something to hurt you, or—" Her eyes fill with tears and she sniffles and wipes a tear from her cheek. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay; you don't have to apologize," I say, stroking her upper back. "We're together now, so everything will be fine, but you have got to believe me when I say Anthony is helping me—helping us."

"Sonia, this woman is not your mother," Anthony says, huffing while grabbing his temples. "I don't know how to prove this to you, but she's lying," he seethes, still standing in our way in front of the door, his behavior making me afraid.

"I know how to prove it," I say. Just then there is a knock at the door. Anthony answers it and the Lightálfars enter.

"Who have we here?" Ross asks.

"This is my mom, Hedda," I say.

"No, it's not," Anthony interjects. "This is Layla, a Darkálfar who has shape-shifted to look like Sonia's mother."

"No it's not, it's my mom," I say, taking her hand in mine, feeling the need to protect her from everyone here. "But since Anthony is so skeptical, I've figured a way to prove that it's her."

"How?" Ross says, stepping closer to my mom, his eyes unwelcoming.

"By asking her questions she and I would only know the answers to," I say.

"Do you think she's a Darkálfar?" Skuld says to Mani, her hand reaching for the gun underneath her trench coat.

Mani nods and at that Ross pulls out his gun, cocks it, and places it against my mom's forehead.

"What are you doing?" I yell.

"I smell something rancid, and I think it's Hedda. We don't know if you're a Darkálfar or not so prove it to us!" Ross says.

Skuld walks over, placing his hand on Ross's shoulder. "Ross, put the gun down and let's resolve this in a peaceful way."

But Ross doesn't put the gun down. "Did you search her before you let her in? Did you? Sonia, you are putting all of our lives in danger by letting her be here because this impostor might not be your precious mother at all. How did you find us anyway, Hedda or Layla, whatever your name is?" Ross says, not backing down.

"I didn't find you; Maureen just told me to come here to get Sonia, and of course that's what I would do—she's my daughter," my mom says. "I swear to you that I'm not a Darkálfar. Ask me any question you want, Sonia, about your childhood, anything..." My mom's hands, which she's holding above her head, are shaking.

"This is my mom, Ross. Don't you think I would have known if she wasn't? Drop your stupid gun. You're scaring her—and me!"

When Ross doesn't drop his weapon, I ask, "Mom, who was my first grade teacher?"

"Mrs. Thompson," my mom answers.

I nod fervently. "Exactly, and where did we go on vacation when I turned eight?"

"Disney World," my mom says.

"And what was Dad's favorite song?" This will be the telling question because only my mom will know the answer to that.

"Just tell him to put the gun down, Sonia, I can't think!" my mom screams as her hands flail.

"Answer the stupid question, woman," Ross says, pressing the barrel harder against her head.

"I—I—can't think with that thing pointed to my head." My mom cowers.

"Mom, just focus, you can do this. What was Dad's favorite song? It was the song you played at your twentieth wedding anniversary party, remember?" My eyes focus on her. Surely she can remember?

"The song was—" my mom pauses, looking confused. The air in the room feels as thick as sand, and I think for a moment that it has darkened, but my mom still doesn't name the song. Instead, she changes from my mom to someone else, a being with silver hair, black eyes and rich chocolate skin. She grabs Ross's hand, twists it and shoots five bullets into one of the windows facing Central Park. The window explodes open, sending gusts of wind through the room. The Darkálfar kicks Ross hard enough to make him fly across the room into the stainless steel kitchen. He lands with a crash and then the Darkálfar grabs me by the hand and tries to pull me with her out the window.

"No!" Anthony yells, clutching my hand and pulling me back—but his grip is weak compared to the strength of the Darkálfar.

My heart races, and then it feels like it stops completely when I fly out the window. I'm falling to my death, clinging onto my enemy for dear life. I see Anthony reaching for me as I plunge towards the ground, shattered glass falling with us. Sounds of the city in the distance and people screaming below us are all that I hear.

"Sovn, sovn," the Darkálfar says as she moves her free hand in a circular motion in front of my face. Everything goes black.

Chapter 30

I wake up abruptly to someone brushing my nose with something that smells god-awful. I try to reach for my nose to push the smell away, but my arms are bound to a flat surface below me. In fact, my whole body is bound. Shaking my head to try to get away from the stinging odor, I open my eyes. Bright lights that shine from several angles around me blind me.

"Hello Sonia," a woman says in a deep, pacifying voice. "Welcome to Wraithsong Island."

I don't recognize the woman working on me. She's tall and slender with short red hair, similar to the hair of a 1920's flapper, and her eyes are a light green. I remember what happened before I lost consciousness and I'm surprised that I'm still alive and feel no pain in my body. Surely, falling from the hotel window must have caused some damage?

"Maureen will be here shortly. I apologize for the restrictive braces. We'll be releasing you momentarily," the woman says.

"Where's my mom?" I yell.

"Don't concern yourself with that right now." The woman disappears behind the blaring lights.

The lights turn off, and I can barely see anything. When my eyes finally adjust to the dimness in the room, I see that I'm in a large cave with a built-in computer system. To the right is some sort of a white shabby-chic sitting area and a garage-type door is to the left. Footsteps approach and I know by the heavy perfume that suddenly fills the air that it's Maureen.

"Welcome, Sonia. I apologize for the bumpy ride you had to go through to get here," Maureen says. "How are you feeling, dear?"

I do a double take because Maureen's hair isn't at all the same as it was the first time I met her at her house. Now it's blonde and wavy and almost reaches to her waist, making her look about five years younger.

"Seriously?" I say. "I almost get killed, my mom's life is on the line and I'm imprisoned by a crazy Huldra. How do you think I feel?" The fear I feel inside is feeding my rage, but I'm not going to let Maureen know how afraid and weak I am, so I feign strength.

"I see that you're fully awake. Our intention isn't to harm you or imprison you, but to educate you," Maureen says, her voice as cool and calm as a rainy winter day in Sarasota.

"I don't care what your intentions are. Why am I strapped to this table?" I flex my muscles and try to break free, but trying to escape is useless.

"You're on the table because we implanted a tracking device in your body. The device acts as a type of insurance for you—and for me." She hovers over me as if trying to read my mind and my body. Being in her presence makes my skin crawl. "If you leave the island, the device will let us know where you are at all times," she says.

"How dare you meddle with my body?" I fume, feeling completely violated.

"Enough of the questions—I'm tired of wasting time." Her lips rise upward at the edges, but her smile is far from friendly. "Let's get down to business. I'm going to give you two choices, Sonia, and I'm going to make the choice very simple, so even a new Huldra can understand. The first choice is to let us educate you as a Huldra, teach you the genuine ways of the Ancient Huldra Dynasty and the way Huldras were supposed to be educated. The alternative choice is death by lethal injection."

The two choices are ridiculous and I don't want to choose either of them. "Why would you want to educate me? I would just use what I've learned against you."

"I'm a very patient person, as you will find, Sonia, but even I have my limits so please stop stalling and just answer the question." Maureen's eyes search mine.

"I don't see that there's really a choice here," I say. "So I choose life and to be educated by you."

"What a smart little Huldra girl you are. I shall send Layla in to release you and take you to your room. Please refrain from doing anything stupid, or it will be so much worse for you." Maureen exits through a copper door beyond the sitting area.

"Help!" I yell, even though I know it's a complete waste of my energy. If I'm on Wraithsong Island, inside a cave, who will look for me here? No one except for Anthony and the Lightálfars, but even Anthony admitted to not knowing where the island was located. I want to cry, but instead curse myself for not listening to Anthony and Ross. They knew the truth and I didn't listen. I felt so confident that I could tell my mom apart from a crazy shape-shifting Darkálfar, or whatever that being was, but apparently I was wrong.

As quietly as a cat, Layla comes to my bedside. "I'm going to partially paralyze your limbs," she says with a smile. "It won't hurt too much. Just an initial shock, and then you'll feel just like your usual self again. Ready?" She holds up two metal objects that resemble defibrillators.

"Don't you dare!" I say, but then the shock comes without another warning, a hundred bolts of lightning radiate through my body at once. I let out a shriek as my body arches in pain, my muscles involuntarily tensing up and shaking. Calmness, then numbness overcomes me, and everything feels pain-free again. Layla unbuckles the white leather straps that fasten me to the metal tabletop, and though I try to lift my arms, I can't move them at all.

"Up with you," Layla says, pulling me to a sitting position. Sitting up, I notice that I feel extremely congested. "Now don't fall over." She stabilizes me for a moment. "Are you good?" She leaves me for a second to pick something up off the gray concrete floor.

I don't respond—I can't respond.

Layla edges back to my side, takes my arm and wraps it around her neck. Then she lifts me to a standing position and steadies me with her other arm. "Ready to walk?" She seems so unaffected by my suffering, as if this is something she does on a daily basis to make the time go by.

"I can't...move...my legs," I say with a drugged voice.

"Come on, put one foot in front of the other. The numbness will go away in a few minutes." Layla kicks my legs forward. "Maybe I overdid it a little."

I think I hear her laugh at me, but I can't be sure because everything sounds muffled and distorted. The room spins and I have to close my eyes to keep from falling over. Finally my eyes start working again and I open them.

When we arrive at the same door Maureen just exited, I see that a gargoyle's face protrudes from the center of it, and that vine and leaf designs cover the door's shiny surface. Then we take a right into a medieval-looking hallway. Flat, but slightly irregular rocks pave the floor and the walls, and the rounded ceiling has heavy oak beams below the arches every ten feet or so. Clear glass cylinder-shaped lamps hang down from the ceiling. The doors are made of the same copper material and have the same gargoyle design as the first one.

Some strength creeps back into my limbs now, but I still need Layla's support to walk. I wonder if I have the strength in the arm wrapped around Layla's shoulder to put her in a headlock and strangle her. I don't.

"This is your room," Layla says. It's about four times as large as my room at home. A queen-size bed with green linen sheets and a white and black floral blanket dress the bed and an ancient-looking desk with a modern office chair stands at the far end of the room in front of the barred-in window. On the walls hang paintings of forests and valleys, which are clearly visible this time of night because of the four wall lamps that shine brightly, illuminating the otherwise dark gray room. Layla helps me to get on the bed.

"Hey, sorry again about the abrupt fall from the hotel. We just needed to get you here pronto before those delinquents could do any more damage to your impressionable mind."

"That was you?" I ask.

"Yes," she says.

"But, you don't look like..." Then I remember that Darkálfars can shape-shift. "Why are you apologizing to me? You're keeping me here against my will and are forcing me to give up my—" I think fifth Huldra gift, but don't say it out loud, figuring I should keep as much information to myself as possible. I'm thoroughly confused—something I've been a lot lately, I realize.

"Sonia, you need to know the truth and the truth is that Anthony is not who he says he is and neither are Ross or Skuld or Mani. They are the Darkálfars and we are the Lightálfars, and Maureen just wants you to be free," she says.

Does she really think I'm going to believe that load of lies? "You're lying! Why did you shape-shift to my mom then and kidnap me?"

"I thought it was the only way I could get you to come with me without a fight. I hadn't anticipated that you'd actually want to stay with Anthony."

I don't care about her explanations. "Why do you have my mom imprisoned then? And me?" I ask.

"We don't have your mom; Anthony has your mom and he's the one who wants you to believe that we have your mom. Really, think about it. Do you have any proof that Anthony is who he says he is? He's the only one you have had contact with in the past week and I'm afraid he's done a great job brainwashing you." Layla sits down on the bed next to me. She tucks her short, red hair behind her ears. "He was supposed to bring you to us, but instead, he made up his own plans."

"Then why are you using a taser on me, and implanting objects into my body?" I ask.

"We're keeping you here for your own safety, and the tracking device is so that if Anthony or any of the other Darkálfars get hold of you again, we can find you more quickly," Layla says.

"I don't need protection from Anthony because he was helping me find my mom," I say. "He's my...friend." I'm not going to let her in on the fact that we are more than just friends.

Layla pauses, studying my face. "Oh, no, I recognize that look. You have fallen for him, haven't you?"

"He's my friend."

"You can't fool me. I've seen it a hundred times. He didn't seduce you—did he?" She makes a face like it's the worst thing that I could have done.

"What?" I'm outraged.

"Let me put it more bluntly. Did you sleep with Anthony?" Layla asks, her full lips frowning. Then her lips pinch together and she gets a look in her face just like my mom does when she's angry with me.

"That's none of your business," I say.

"Listen up, spring chick. If Anthony didn't sleep with you, I can guarantee you that he's not interested in you, so there's no need to defend him or stay loyal to him. He has had so many lovers that it's ridiculous and if he had any feelings for you at all, he would definitely have had his way with you already. That's why I'm asking," Layla says.

"Anthony's not like that, and besides, how would you know anything about him anyway?" I ask.

"Because I've been working with him for a long time and I know how he rolls. First, you fall for his intense blue eyes, then his, 'I think you are special' comments. Then he tells you that you are the most beautiful being he had ever seen, and that he couldn't imagine ever losing one of the most beautiful creatures that ever walked the earth."

"No, I don't believe you." I refuse to even consider her ridiculous claims, though Layla's comments do sound almost exactly like something Anthony said to me.

"I can prove it to you. We need to get hold of your mom and then she will tell you that it was Anthony who kidnapped her, not Maureen," Layla says.

"Well, you're forgetting one important detail here. I was with Anthony when my mom went missing. How do you explain that?" I say.

Layla places her hand onto the bed and leans forward. "So he set it up that way. He has people working for him. He wasn't born yesterday, you know, and in fact, he's thousands of years old."

"No, you're lying!" I know Layla isn't telling the truth—she can't be. She's just messing with my mind.

"Then why do you think Anthony's trying so hard to capture your heart? That's what Darkálfars do to unsuspecting young girls," Layla says.

"Yeah, but I'm a Huldra, so how do you explain my attraction to him then?" I say.

Layla scoffs as though her information is clearly self-evident. "A Darkálfar can dance a very seductive dance around a Huldra because his god-like sensuality works on Huldras just as well as Huldras' sensualities works on humans. Did he tell you something contrary?"

I think about another comeback. "What about the phone call when I heard Maureen and him talk on the phone?"

"A Darkálfar can make stuff up and actually get you to think that you're experiencing it. It's called illusionary control." She pauses and thinks for a minute. "It's really a shame you haven't been to the Academy, Sonia, but then again, maybe it's a blessing in disguise since we'll be able to train you the correct way—the way of the undefiled Huldra, the way a Huldra was supposed to be—fearless, all powerful and seductive."

I don't want her lies to start taking root in my mind, but I can't deny that I do want power. It's a desire that's innately part of me now. I do want to be fearless, and I do, strangely enough, want to be seductive, but I don't want those things Maureen's way. "He showed me the Book of Huldras, and what he was teaching me lined up with the book exactly," I say. "I doubt that your way is any better than his."

"Did you read through the whole book?" Layla asks.

"Most of it."

"How do you know it wasn't a fake copy?" Layla huffs. "Well, think about what I've said some more. In the end, the decision is yours."

"Hardly," I mumble.

"Your physical strength should be returning completely in a few minutes. I'll send in some breakfast." She leaves the room, locking the door behind her.

Still weakened by the shock, I remain lying down a bit longer. Anthony—a Darkálfar? And thousands of years old? No way, I don't believe it for a second. I search my body from top to bottom for an incision where they implanted the tracking device, but I can't find it anywhere. How does Layla know about so many of Anthony's comments? Is it possible that his affection was a façade to make me trust him? No! I'm not going to let them screw with my mind.

Thinking that I'm strong enough, I wobble over to the door and twist the doorknob, but of course it's locked. Grabbing it with both hands, I shake it in hopes that it might open. I kick the door as hard as I can, which isn't really hard at the moment since I still feel weakened by the electric shock. Leaning my back against the door, I slide down to the floor into a sitting position. I'm trapped and I'm in the hands of my enemies. A single sob escapes my lips and I bring my hand up to my mouth to prevent more from coming. I need to stay strong and I need to keep my head on straight. Despite this thought, I can't help but let hopelessness take over. I break down completely and weep.

Chapter 31

I peer out the barred window in my room. The bubbly texture of the icy blue glass blurs the outside slightly, but not so much that I can't make out the landscape. It looks like there's a green field and a few rolling hills in the distance, and beyond that, a forest and a mountain. A horse trots into the courtyard and a woman jumps off. She leads the horse into what looks to be a stable and then enters the house, banging the door shut behind her. Voices resonate through the castle, but I can't understand what's being said—the voices are too muted.

Layla brings in a silver tray filled with pancakes, fruits, English muffins, orange juice, milk, tea and four different types of cheese. She has changed from her camouflage work clothes to navy blue leggings and a long silver sequin t-shirt, which falls off her shoulder. "Eat—you'll need your strength when we start training you. I'm so glad you decided to let us educate you."

I throw an unfriendly look in her direction. "I decided? My only other choice was death. Of course, anyone in her right mind would have chosen to live." I sit down at the desk where Layla placed the tray of food.

"Maureen wants to put you through the full Huldra training course in a mere ten days. Once we're done with you, you'll know everything." She pours me a cup of hot water from the silver teapot. "Black tea?"

"Do you have herbal tea?" Black tea is too bitter and doesn't sit well in my stomach.

"Raspberry lemon zinger?"

"Sure," I say.

Layla leans her hip on the side of the desk. "You need to forget Anthony because he won't come for you—trust me, I know. He's probably already onto the next unsuspecting Huldra, telling her how special she is and how lovely her human aura is. Let's just focus on getting your mom back, on educating you, and on receiving your fifth Huldra gift, shall we?"

"So, Maureen's not after my—gift?" I ask, still not believing a single word that comes out of Layla's mouth.

"Of course not, why on earth would she want your gift? Stealing someone's gift is considered an unforgivable offense in the Huldra code. Your fifth Huldra gift is more precious than anything else and you should never give it away." Layla seems surprisingly genuine.

Another lie, I think to myself.

"You know," Layla says, crossing her long, lean legs at the ankles, "the best thing you can do is to try and learn as much as possible in the next ten days. If you're still not happy after we've finished teaching you, then you can make your own decisions and Maureen might even let you leave if you want. But don't be too quick to judge. If you do, you'll miss out on the opportunity to know for yourself."

I don't have an intelligent reply. "All I want is to find my mom." And Anthony, I think, keeping the last part to myself, knowing that Layla would only try to turn me further against him.

"We don't have her here, Sonia. However, the smartest thing you can do is to learn everything you can about the truth and receive your fifth Huldra gift and use that and what we have taught you to get her back." Layla walks toward the door. "I'm not locking it, so you're free to move around the castle as much as you like. Just remember, if you leave Wraithsong Island, we will find you, and you would have wasted more time in finding out the truth of what has transpired here. Oh, and there are clothes for you in there." She points to a closet that's made up of nothing but mirrors. "I can imagine you don't want to spend your entire stay here in your pajamas." Layla exits the creaky door and closes it behind her.

I devour an English muffin with cream cheese, the mixed melon bowl and drink my tea. After that, I find a pair of dark jeans and a thin charcoal stretchy pullover and put them on. The only shoes that fit are a pair of black ballet flats with clear rhinestones on the top. I think about what Layla said and realize that I never actually heard Maureen say she wanted to appropriate my gift. It had only ever been Anthony, and during that one phone call that Layla claimed was an illusion, or whatever she called it. Maureen has never acted mean to me or given me any reason to think she's after my gift. Wait, what am I thinking? I shouldn't be considering what Layla said, for only a moment ago she was trying to trick me into thinking she was my mother. She's clearly deceitful.

I open the heavy copper door, look in both directions and then proceed into the hallway. I turn left—the opposite direction from where I came. If I only had my cell phone, I could call Anthony. He must be worried sick about me. Sneaking down the hallway, I pass several copper gargoyle doors. I wonder what's behind them and I try to open one. Locked. I try another with the same result, and it seems they're all locked down this hallway. I almost don't open the last door, but try it anyway, and to my surprise the door opens. The room is decorated exactly the way my room is. Inside, a man is sitting at his desk, eating breakfast.

"I'm so sorry," I say. "I—" The man turns around and I recognize him immediately from my dream. Olaf. A wave of fear pushes through my body, and adrenaline starts speeding through my veins. He's wearing the exact same type of suit he did in my dream, except for now, everything from his suit to his tie is blue, not green.

"Sonia, please come it!" He smiles. "I apologize for intruding on your dream a while back. Have a seat." He stands, pulls up a wooden chair and gestures for me to sit.

I hesitate. Run! Run! Run! I think, taking a step backward.

"Do not be afraid; I will not harm you, and please do not attempt to run since there is no place to run to." He clasps his hands behind his back.

Now I remember how he's able to read my mind. Shoot! I enter the room and sit down on a chair.

"I see Anthony has instilled fear into your mind and told you that we have malevolent intentions. Have we given you any reason to fear us?" Olaf says in his Scandinavian accent.

"No," I say, but thinking yes.

"I am also not a Darkálfar like Anthony claimed. I am a Huldu." Olaf takes a sip of his coffee. "Poor Maureen has had to deal with Anthony all these years. Do you know the real story?"

I shake my head, thinking this should be yet another interesting fabricated story.

Having read my thoughts, Olaf chuckles. "Maureen fell in love with a Darkálfar just as you have."

I press my lips together. I still don't think Anthony's a Darkálfar, but I wonder how he knows about Anthony and me. Layla must have said something to him. No, of course, he must have read my mind.

"Maureen admits that it was wrong, knowing she should never have fallen in love with such a one, being the nasty creatures they are. Anthony's father left Maureen shortly before she discovered she was pregnant with Anthony. Of course Maureen begged him to come back to her, for the sake of the unborn child, but the Darkálfar left anyway."

"That's not what Anthony told me." When we initially met, I remember Anthony briefly mentioning his father leaving, and how he seemed so saddened about his father leaving. Then another thought occurs to me. Why wouldn't Anthony have darker skin then, since Darkálfars are, well—dark-skinned?

Olaf chuckles. "Great questions, Sonia, I must say. You have such a fabulous young mind. Anthony inherited all of his mother's physique, but unfortunately, his father's character." He chuckles again at length and I wonder what's so funny.

"What?"

"It is quite amusing to see how you are still reasoning with your lesser human brain. You will learn about the ways of the pure Huldra soon enough, and then you will have no need for such explanations."

Obviously, he thinks he's so much better than me. I curse at myself for thinking that, knowing Olaf must have read my mind, but he continues speaking as if he didn't notice.

"When Maureen had Anthony, she hoped he would inherit her character traits, but sadly, he became more and more like his father every day." Olaf shakes his head, looking despondent. "Finally, and just recently, when Maureen saw there was no hope for the boy, and when he refused to take his Huldu vows, she knew she had to escape him. Angry that she deserted him, Anthony threatened to get even with her by appropriating your fifth Huldra gift. So here we are." Olaf crosses his legs and rests his hands in his lap.

"What's your involvement in this?" I ask.

Olaf smiles. "I live to serve the Almighty Huldra and the Almighty Huldra, or Maureen as you know her, has given me extra powers. If you allow her, Sonia, she can help you develop your powers, too."

Even though I don't want to, I delight in the thought of having more power, but there's just something about Maureen and Olaf I don't quite trust. Is it because Anthony has been telling me all along that they are after me and after complete power? "Anthony says Maureen is after my fifth Huldra gift," I say, seeing if his story will line up with Layla's.

He shakes his head and wags his finger, as if to make a point. "Maureen has all the gifts she needs, and if she should need any more, she only has to appropriate some new gifts from humans. She would never dream of stealing your gift; she wants you to become strong."

"Anthony told me that Huldra gifts are even more precious than life itself, is that true?" I say.

"They are, but beware, for Anthony mixes truth with lies. I do not know how much of what he has told you is true and how much is a lie. If I were you, I would regard all the information he has given you as falsehoods. He is the smoothest of all criminals, Sonia, and not even his saintly mother could stand to be around him anymore. She had to run away to this invisible island to get away from him, and even here, poor Maureen cannot find peace."

"Well why is Maureen keeping me here then?"

"I suppose she is upset that her son managed to manipulate you as well, and she wants to help you get your mother back. As you will see, righteous people always do the right thing." He drinks some more coffee. "You would be a fool not to accept her generous offer."

My gut tells me something is wrong, and for once, I try not to think about my situation, but rather feel the situation out. My body feels unbalanced, as if something isn't quite right. Then a thought springs into my mind: Can Olaf read my feelings?

"No, I only read thoughts," he says. "But the two are very closely connected, so if you think of something, I can probably guess how you are feeling based on your thoughts." He smiles.

I smile back and try to empty my brain from all my thoughts. It's like trying to pick up a million feathers that have been scattered in a tornado.

"Ah, you are getting better. It is hard, is it not? To control one's thoughts?" He takes a bite of his bagel and washes it down with some more coffee.

"Well, I wanted to see the rest of the castle, if you don't mind," I say, eager to get away.

"Absolutely. Maureen lives on the third and top floor, so please respect her privacy."

"I'll keep that in mind," I say, standing up. "Olaf, good to see you again."

Olaf stands up and takes my hand, and then kisses it lightly. "I will be seeing you soon, Sonia."

I pull my hand back and leave the room, wondering on my way out the door how far away I have to be before Olaf can't read my thoughts any more.

Out in the hallway I continue into the grand foyer. A red oriental rug rests on top of the stone floor and a chandelier of titanic proportions hangs high above. The double door exit is to the left, and a wooden stairwell to the right. The stairwell splits into two directions that lead to each side of the house. In the foyer there are two stained-glass doors, one on either side.

One of the rooms is a library with a black baby grand piano and the other an office decorated with Egyptian art. I close the door to the office quietly and head into the other hallway. Dozens of pictures, all in frames of different colors and sizes, plaster the walls on either side. I don't see Maureen's or Anthony's pictures anywhere, but then again, this isn't really Maureen's place, so of course, their pictures wouldn't be here. If Maureen were smart, she would have known I would notice that. I don't recognize any of the other people in the pictures either, though, wait, is that Gandhi? There is also a picture of a woman with someone who looks like President Clinton and wait, Abraham Lincoln and my mom?

"We'll be starting in ten minutes. Let me show you where we'll be training you." Layla zooms past me and takes a left at the end of the hallway.

I follow her into a room that's set up just like a classroom. A chalkboard hangs to the right, six desks stand in the center of the room, and maps, number charts, drawing boards, and graphs hang on the walls. White wooden blinds cover the windows, and the walls are a sterile white.

"Do you need anything before we start?" Layla sets a hefty stack of books down onto the desk at the front of the room.

"The ladies room?" I say.

"Down the hall, first door to your left." I leave and come back at exactly one minute to ten.

"We'll be starting at nine a.m. every morning." Layla points at the clock. It ticks so loudly that I wonder if I'll be able to focus at all during our lessons. "You'll have a thirty minute lunch at noon and then we'll continue on until five p.m. After that, you'll eat dinner, and then we'll resume our studies in the library until ten p.m."

I sit down at the desk front and center, dreading such a long day.

"I'll be your history teacher, Maureen will be your flair technique teacher, and Olaf, your combat and artillery instructor," Layla says.

I nod. I just hope they'll teach me at least something that lines up with what the good Huldras do.

Chapter 32

After the first day of education, I'm so exhausted that even my eyelashes hurt. I still feel unusually congested; I must be allergic to some of the plants on this island.

Layla has taught me about how the Huldras came to be—which I already knew—and of the history of the Huldra all the way up until the Viking age in Northern Europe. People used to believe that Huldras had hollow, bark-covered backs and tails that resembled those of a fox or a cow. It was all a fabrication, of course. The bark-covered-back-and-animal-tail-story was started by a woman whose husband had been unfaithful to her with a Huldra. The wife had been so angry and jealous of the beautiful Huldra that she started this rumor to make the Huldra sound more ugly than she was and to try and keep men away from the, in her words, "devilish creatures." There was no mention of Huldus in these stories and I wonder if it could be because women were better at hiding their affairs with a Huldu from their husbands.

In the beginning, Huldras and Huldus mainly lived on invisible islands like Wraithsong Island. These were scattered across the Norwegian and Swedish coasts. A few of them lived in caves around northern Europe, but many of them were hunted and killed. Huldras would frequently wander the forests surrounding villages and help hunters who pleasured them. If a man pleased the Huldra to her satisfaction, she would blow on the man's bow or rifle, causing it to never miss a shot. There were no stories of what Huldus would ask men or women to do. I'll have to ask Anthony when I see him again.

When Maureen enters, her hair is yet another color. This time it's shoulder-length, straight and brown. I wonder why she keeps changing her hair color and style, but I get the feeling it's a taboo subject. First Maureen teaches me how to use my flair, and though I'm very excited about it, I don't want to let her know that it's something I've dreamed of learning all my life.

"It's quite simple," Maureen says. "If you desire a man to fall madly in love with you then you need to kiss him passionately. If you only want him to submit to your will then all you need to do is ensure your saliva comes in contact with his skin."

I learn a little goes a long way when it comes to my flair.

"The amount of flair you use has a direct correlation to how much power and control you will have over the prospect," Maureen says. She sounds so business-like.

"How will I know how much of my flair to use?"

"That, you will only learn through practice. If you use too much, well, you'll have a slave for life."

"But then I'll just tell him to stay away," I say, remembering that I did that with Savannah and that it had worked out so nicely.

"That's not how it works. They will stay away for a while, but soon, they will be unable to resist you and begin stalking you. You become an obsession to them, and the obsession will eventually grow dangerous unless you know how to manage it."

I cringe inwardly, but keep a pleasant expression pasted on my face. Savannah will definitely be a dangerous stalker if what Maureen is saying is true—I can see it now. I'm glad to be so far away from her, but fear what will happen once I return to Sarasota. I'll have to cross that bridge when I get there.

"If you use too little of your flair, the prospect won't be willing to concede his power to you."

It sounds a little tricky. "So do my looks or anything else make a difference on the...uh...prospect?" I ask.

"Yes, of course, but not like you think, darling. Only through your mind can you completely seduce a human. It has little to do with your looks or your sensuality, though those things too will naturally play an important part—more so in the beginning," Maureen says. "Your flair and your mind are the two most important aspects you possess as a Huldra. Most men think your attractiveness is your looks, but it's not."

"And what about my fifth Huldra gift?" I have to ask.

"That's not in today's lesson. Now focus!" Maureen says impatiently.

Of course that's what she'd say.

Finally, Olaf takes me out to a field just outside the castle and teaches me how to shoot a bow and arrow, how to blend in with the environment and how to track someone. When we go outside, I see the entire castle and am surprised to see that it's huge and is built into the surrounding mountain. That must be how they have the cave. The Gothic castle has a circular, gray stone tower situated on each of the four corners, an oak front door with steps leading up to it, and tons of stained-glass lancet windows. It looks haunted, not because the castle hasn't been maintained, but because it's so dark and gloomy, especially now in the afternoon when the building sits in the shade of the mountain behind it.

The long day finally ends, and I massage my shoulders, trying to relax. I take a shower in the attached bath and sink into bed. I study the Eleven Charges a Huldra must abide by. Maureen is going to test me on them in the morning.

The Eleven Charges

I promise as a Huldra...

To abide by the laws of the land and to bear with integrity and valor the rulings of my leaders.

To remain honest and faithful in love and devoted to the tried and true friend.

To never make false oaths.

To deal gently with the humble and lowly.

To respect my elders and honor my ancestors.

To stand up against evil when I see it and to fight against the enemies of Faith, Humanity and Family.

To comfort the friendless and fatherless.

To not let myself become entangled in matters that are unimportant.

To never set my own needs in front of another.

To never reveal the Huldra Dynasty or the existence of our kind to humanity.

To never take more than I need and never to the detriment of another.

I think Maureen needs to abide a little better by the last charge. She's taking more than she needs and definitely to the detriment of others. After about an hour of studying, I can't keep my eyes open anymore and I drift off to sleep.

Chapter 33

I wake up in the middle of the night with the unsettling feeling that someone is watching me. When I open my eyes, I see Olaf sitting at the end of my bed, glaring at me, his eyes shining like gold suns in the dark. I snatch the covers, pulling them over my chest, up to my chin and sit up.

"What are you doing here?" I remember locking my door, so how did he get inside my room?

"I am sorry, did I startle you?" Olaf says.

"Please leave," I say as firmly as I can.

Olaf's eyes look hungry, like he wants something from me. "I have to admit; Maureen was right about you."

"If you want to talk, you'll have to wait until our lesson tomorrow." I try not to think about how his presence makes me feel completely violated. My fearful thoughts aren't something I want Olaf to hear.

"You intrigue me, Sonia, being so beautiful and honest, and I love listening to your thoughts and entering your dreams," he says.

"I'd prefer you didn't," I say. I don't want to anger him, for if I do, I get the sense that he'll harm me. He's calm on the outside, but I sense a raging storm below the surface of his demeanor.

"You know, usually my students enjoy my interest in them. They show gratitude and appreciation for all the extra time and effort I put into their training."

I decide to be firmer with him. "Leave, or I will leave." My mouth feels dry and my heart is pounding against my ribs.

He sits closer to me, reaches his hand forward and caresses my arm gently. "You mean you do not like this?"

I snap my arm away. "You touch me again and I'll scream. Leave now, and I'll overlook this one indiscretion of yours."

"Sonia..." he says, looking at me with sly puppy dog eyes.

"Get out before I...!"

"No need," he interrupts me. "I'll leave you to yourself." He stands up and heads toward the door.

I make it a point to think idiot.

Olaf turns around and storms toward me. I think he's going to assault me, but his face stops an inch away from mine. "You had best remember the fifth charge, or you will never pass the final test," he seethes.

My face fills with blood and my heart leaps into my throat. "Get out," I say feebly. "You had best keep your distance, or I'll make sure you're kicked out of here," I say, hoping I sound fairly sure of myself.

"I have already conquered the women of this household, and if you bring it up to them, I will deny that this ever happened. Ask yourself, Sonia, who are they going to believe? A man who has worked for and been loyal to Maureen for centuries, or the new, weak Huldra girl who is so confused she cannot even keep her head screwed on straight?" he whispers.

My mouth puckers. I'm not about to feed his rage anymore. It isn't worth it. I'll just have to be more careful of what I say and think around Olaf from now on.

After he leaves, I can't fall back asleep. I'm afraid that if I do, he might come into my room again and do something even worse.

I want to see more of the castle, so I climb out of bed and steal into the hallway. Soon, I reach the main foyer. I haven't seen anything on the second floor yet. I try to pay attention to every detail of the house so the memory of what just happened doesn't stay in my mind. The chandelier hovering above has a soft glow to it so it's not completely dark in the foyer. I climb the stairs to the second floor. There's a long and wide hallway to the left and I head down it. The hallway has three doors on either side, spaced about a yard apart. At the end of the hallway there's an open window with sheer white curtains. I feel the air from the outside breezing in, and it smells like fresh earth and leaves. The moonlight sends its blue beams into the hallway.

Then, to my terror, out of one of the doors at the end, something appears and enters the hallway. The creature is huge and when it approaches me, the beast's footsteps sound like a thundering stampede. I don't think the animal has seen me yet, so I open the door closest to me and dash into the room to hide. I briefly register that the room is a bathroom. What's outside? My heart beats loudly, but I want to get a closer look at the unusual animal. Did it enter through the open window? The window doesn't seem large enough to fit that beast. I crack open the door and see the beast zooming past the door, noticing how it looks like a concoction of three different animals in one body. The beast's head looks like a dragon's head with long, straight horns that resemble those of a goat. As it continues past the door, I see that its tail is a giant snake and that on its back it has something that looks like folded wings. I step back, afraid the snake-head might spot me as it passes the door. As I continue backing a little further into the bathroom, I accidentally knock over a metal wastebasket on the floor. The sound from the wastebasket hitting the tile floor is loud and catches the beast's attention. It spins around and sniffs at the door.

I slam the door shut and lock it. Swiveling around, I hastily search for a hiding place or an easy exit, but there's nowhere to hide and no other doors. However, the window at the end of the bathroom looks large enough for me to slip through it and out the castle. I open it, kick out the screen and jump out the window. I reach my arms forward as the ground approaches quickly, knowing the impact of the fall is going to be painful. I feel like I'm falling in slow motion.

The grass below finally breaks my fall. Instant pain makes me cry out, but instead of lingering on the pain, I leap towards the castle's exterior wall and hide against it. The beast roars out the window and I cover my ears from the earsplitting sound. It must be coming after me. Quickly, but as quietly as possible, I creep along the castle wall until I reach a corner and skirt to the other side of the castle. My whole body is trembling, but there's no time to think. Only get away.

I listen for a moment, and all is silent. The beast seems to have disappeared back inside. Still breathing heavily, I do a quick body scan, feeling for any unusual pain. My right shoulder hurts, but not so bad that I suspect that anything is broken. Maybe a muscle tear or strain. Propped up against the rugged stone wall, I think about the beast. What kind of a beast is it? It literally looks like three animals that were dismembered and sewn together into one creature. Does Maureen know about this animal? Does Olaf or Layla? All our lives are at risk. Where did the beast come from? I need to warn the others.

Running toward the front of the castle in the moonlight, I notice that my ankle hurts quite a bit. I try to enter through the front door, but of course it's locked.

"Sonia?" I hear a woman's voice behind me. I turn around and see Layla standing on the brick walkway, leading up to the castle's entrance.

"What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?" she asks.

"I..." I don't know whether or not it is a good idea to share what I just saw with Layla. "I'm just taking a walk. What are you doing out here?"

"I went onto the mainland to pick up some supplies. I had just finished loading the last of it into the receiving area when I saw you walking out here."

I want to see if I can get Layla to mention the beast I saw without really asking her directly about it. "What types of animals are on the island? Anything I need to be aware of before I start roaming around in the dark? I mean, I wouldn't want to get eaten alive or anything." I laugh nervously and hope that will be enough information for Layla to tell me.

"There are no other animals on the island other than the ones we have brought with us," Layla says.

"Which are?" I inquire.

"Horses, birds, chickens, and our dog," Layla says.

"Hmm..." I say. "So nothing...dangerous or potentially life-threatening?"

Layla laughs. "No, not unless a horse is considered life-threatening. Did you see something?"

My plan isn't working. I feel the need to share with Layla as to what I saw. "Yes, I saw something inside the house."

"Oh, really?" Layla says, her eyebrows rising.

"It was a...huge beast, and it was on the second floor," I say.

Layla shakes her head. "Well, you must have been dreaming for clearly there are no beasts here."

I can't stop talking now. "No, I'm telling you, I know what I saw. It looked like a dragon with horns...and a..."

"I'm telling you that you are wrong!" Layla yells. "You were dreaming, that's all. Do I make myself clear?"

"What?" Why would she say that?

"Don't talk about this to anyone else, do you understand?" Layla says.

"But the beast looks dangerous," I protest. "Like it could eat us or hurt us or something."

"Drop it or you'll regret it."

I huff. What is Layla hiding? "Okay...I get it. I'll drop it."

"You especially don't want to say anything to Maureen about seeing the beast." Layla pulls her keys out and unlocks the front door.

"But you just said that there wasn't a beast and that I just imagined it," I object, very angry that Layla won't just be truthful with me.

"Just forget that you ever saw it, all right?" Layla's eyes almost look pleading now.

"I don't really want to go back inside the house with that beast in there."

"It's safe, trust me, but we must not mention it to Maureen or she'll have a fit. Now go back to bed and no more exploring at night, understood?"

"Sure," I say, but despite my assurances, I know my exploring nights are far from over.

Chapter 34

I try to pay attention to Maureen's lesson, but my mind keeps drifting back to my mom and Anthony.

Anthony must be coming for me soon. I'm surprised that he isn't here already. Maybe what Layla said was true. She said Anthony would just forget about me and move on to the next unsuspecting Huldra. I cringe. He wouldn't do that, would he? Anthony said he doesn't know where Wraithsong Island is located, but we had both agreed that the Lightálfars probably knew where it was. I hope they know. If not, I could be stuck here for a really long time. Now my mom and I are both technically missing. Lost on Wraithsong Island—it sounds like a movie, and one that I don't want to be the protagonist of.

Today is my third day here on the island. I refrain from pondering too long on my bleak situation. If I did, I'd spiral into a well of depression and I can't afford to do that right now because I need to stay strong for my mom. I still think Anthony is the good guy, but the longer he stays away, the more I find reason to doubt him. The clock's ticking, and though there's nothing I can do to save my mom right at this moment, I feel I need to take some type of action—soon. The strange beast I saw last night vanished, and nobody has mentioned it. I briefly consider the idea that the beast was just a part of a nightmare I had, but no, I can't start second guessing myself now. I know what I saw—I can't deny it. But maybe all it is, is one of the Darkálfars shape-shifting, though that doesn't make sense either. There's no reason to shape-shift into that huge beast in the middle of the night, is there?

"Sonia?" Maureen says. Today her hair is white, waist-length and straight.

"Yes," I say, Maureen's voice bringing me back to the present. I blink.

"I need you to focus, darling. We've already fallen behind in your studies. I thought you would have been intelligent enough to keep up with the pace," Maureen says.

"Sorry, I'm...I'll be fine. I was just thinking about...my mom," I say, almost slipping and mentioning the beast. "I'm so worried about her." When I think about her the tears come like a flood.

Maureen's tone is almost pitiless. "Your whining will not bring your mother back. Besides, that's why we're here training you, so that when we do finally find her, you'll be ready to fight in the battle against the Darkálfars."

"Well, I want to find my mom now," I say.

Maureen comes over and places her hand on my shoulder. Her touch does little to comfort me; instead, it disturbs me. "I have already sent others to search for your beloved mother and the other three governesses as we speak. They've been looking for them ever since you arrived here."

"What others?" I ask, wiping away my tears.

"The other Huldras, of course. Trust me; I'm doing everything in my power to save your mother." Maureen walks behind her desk again and leafs through the Book of Huldras. "We must not let our emotions get in the way of our work," she says without looking up. She clears her throat. "Now flip the page. Here, you'll find a lesson most Huldras never learn. I'll go into greater detail about this chapter later when I think you're ready. I'll teach it to you because you are particularly gifted, and because I believe that you'll benefit from this knowledge. This is confidential, though, and stays only between you and me, do you understand?"

I nod.

"The governesses took out several precious things from the Book of Huldras. I, however, have an original copy, and live by its doctrine. One of the things they took out was this chapter, explaining how a Huldra's flair can be appropriated by other Huldras," Maureen smiles.

"Isn't that...unethical...unfair?" I ask.

"Everything is this way, Sonia. Think of the poor baby turtles who strive so hard to stay alive after they hatch out of their eggs on the beach. Do you know that only one in a thousand of them will make it into adulthood? Life is brutal and only the fittest survive. Like the few remaining Huldras and Álfars."

I understand exactly what Maureen is saying; nothing in life is fair, but I'll be damned if I'll be one to use my God-given will—my agency—to live a life of fulfillment at the expense of another.

"If you stick with me, Sonia, you will have a very happy and rewarding life. None of this lowly humility and suffering for the sake of suffering propaganda." She waves her hand like she's trying to get rid of an annoying mosquito in front of her face. "So many people suffer because they choose to suffer. Pain comes to us all, but suffering is a choice. Remember, there are no victims, only volunteers. If you live by these beliefs, you'll never suffer and will never be a victim."

"Okay?" I don't quite understand how one can reach a point where one never suffers or is never at the mercy of someone else some of the time, but it does sound like a worthy ideal to strive toward.

"Next, I would like for you to open your book to page six-hundred and seventy-six. There you'll find the reason why Huldras must not marry Darkálfars."

"Anthony says—"

Maureen slams her book shut, startling me. "I will hear no mention of that name here!"

I feel like I have just declared that the world is coming to an end. "Sorry, I just needed some clarification."

"One day, you'll understand. When you have children, you'll see that the loss of their love is the most painful of all. Today's lesson is finished. I'll send Olaf in." Maureen packs up her notebook and storms out the door.

I remain in my seat, and notice I have stopped breathing. All that lingers in the classroom is the fact that I've offended Maureen by mentioning her son's name. It wasn't quite the reaction I expected. Is it possible that I misjudged her and that maybe she truly loves him and he has broken her heart? Maybe Anthony will never come for me. The thought horrifies me, because now, even though I don't want to, I think there's a chance it could actually be true.

Olaf swings the door open so quickly that a breeze disturbs the papers on my desk. "You really are something. The least you could do is show Maureen some respect." His eyes, dark and wrathful, sear me into a heap of ashes. "We are going outside again today. Meet me in the stable in five minutes." Olaf slams the door behind him.

He's one to talk. He didn't exactly respect me when he invaded my room in the middle of the night. I pick up my books, drop them off in my room, and make my way over to the detached stable.

When I arrive, Maureen and Olaf are talking quietly in the stable. I sneak up close to the open door to see if I can hear any of their conversation. With my back to the door, I listen in.

"I saw in a vision that her gift is what could win us our victory," Maureen says.

"How so?" Olaf asks.

Maureen pauses for a moment, and then speaks so quietly that I almost cannot hear her. "It is the gift of Cherubo. Only one other Huldra has received this gift before her."

Cherubo? I've never heard of it. My mom never mentioned it. Anthony never mentioned it, and I didn't read anything about it in the Book of Huldras.

I hear Olaf snort a laugh. "Sonia, the half-breed, is to receive the gift of Cherubo?"

"I know—it's difficult to believe, isn't it?" Maureen says.

"That little girl does not deserve it for she is not even pure."

I'm offended by Olaf's remark, but then again, his behavior towards me has hardly been respectful. I can't expect him to think or speak highly of me.

"Be careful, Olaf, and don't be so quick to judge. That little girl has more power and potential than you give her credit for," Maureen says.

I'm surprised Maureen stands up for me. Maybe she's not as bad as Anthony painted her, and maybe she really is here to help me.

"Your job is to gain her trust, so she'll support our cause, and then—"

I accidentally move the stable door, causing it to creak. They must have heard the noise and that's why Maureen stops talking. I should enter—pretend that I'm just now arriving for my lesson. I curse myself for having made a noise because I really wanted to hear what Maureen was about to say. So far, she hasn't said anything confirming she's after my gift, but rather seems to think highly of me.

I enter the stable and pretend I didn't hear their conversation. I must hide my thoughts from Olaf, or he'll know that I was listening in. I focus on my surroundings instead. Dirt and straw cover the stable floor, and there are five stalls on either side of the hallway. Leather reins and saddles hang from the low wood ceiling and a dwarf-sized man is busy shoveling dung in one of the stalls with a shovel that looks way too big for him.

"Hi," I say.

Maureen stares at me for a moment but remains silent.

"I'm sorry about earlier," I say.

Maureen nods to me and then to Olaf and then walks off.

"Ah, there you are," Olaf says in his usual pleasant tone. His moods change disturbingly fast. He enters one of the stalls and leads a black horse into the hallway. The horse neighs and flicks his tail.

For a split second, I lose my train of thought, thinking that I hate Olaf.

Olaf shoots me a glowering glance.

I make my mind go blank. I have become better at keeping my thoughts to myself the last few days, especially around Olaf, but I'm not good enough yet. One's thoughts must be one of the most important things to conquer in life, and though I'm not where I want to be yet, I feel strengthened.

"Yes, here I am." I smile pleasantly. The scent of hay and manure flood my nostrils as a breeze blows through the barn.

"I spoke to Maureen, and she would like for you to learn how to shoot a bow and arrow while riding." Olaf pats the horse on its neck.

"All right, but is there any reason why I would need to learn that to save my mom?" I ask.

"The student does not question the teacher. Now do you want your mother back?" He seems unusually frustrated.

"Of course I want my mom back, Olaf."

"Good." He hooks the two reins, one on each side of the walkway, and continues to saddle up the horse. "Have you ridden a horse before?"

"No," I say unapologetically.

"Let us start here." He pulls up an aluminum stepstool to the horse's left side and ascends the stairs. "I will have you use this the first time, until you get used to it. To mount the horse, you first grab the reins with your left hand, turn the stirrup toward you, using your right hand, and then put your left foot into the stirrup."

I listen to his directions carefully.

"Then, hold the waist of your saddle with your right hand, have your left hand on the horse's withers, gently bounce once or twice on your right foot and then spring off of it." He grunts as his right leg swings over the horse. "Next, secure your right leg into the right stirrup while pulling the reins back. This signals the horse to remain still."

"Okay," I say.

"Ready to try?" He looks down at me from atop the horse.

"Yes."

He jumps back off the horse and hands me a bow and a quiver filled with blue, red and yellow feathers at the ends of the arrows. After I secure the quiver on my back and the bow around my torso, I climb onto the horse. Olaf fetches another brown horse from one of the stalls, saddles it and mounts it.

"Follow me." He taps the sides of his horse with his legs and steers in front of me.

Not quite knowing how to get my horse to move, I do the same. The horse starts moving.

He looks back at me. "Now do exactly as I am doing." He rises up from the horse's back and holds his position, and I do the same. Then he sits back down again, and I follow. "This is called posting, and the way you want to do it is to rise when the horse's front right foot hits the ground, and lower yourself when the horse's left foot hits the ground. The key to this is coordination. Now, continue this way for a few minutes."

I try to get the rhythm down, but it's really hard to make my body coordinate with the horse. Soon all I can feel are my thighs, calves and hips burning.

"One, two, one, two, one two," Olaf says. "You are up on one, down on two."

"That's easier said than done." My burning muscles are screaming for a break, but I'm determined to learn this.

We ride into the tall green beech woods, following an ancient trail. The hillsides are covered with vines and green plants. After following the trail for a while, we arrive at a small grove. The leaves glitter with sunlight and in the middle of the grove stands a stone altar. Olaf jumps off his horse and unloads the leather backpack.

"This will be your target." He lifts out a burlap and places it on the altar.

I really want to get off the horse, my legs are spent, but I don't say anything. Probably picking up on what I'm thinking, Olaf opens his mouth to speak.

"No, I don't want to quit!" I need to keep my thoughts more hidden. It seems harder to focus on keeping my thoughts to myself when I am physically tired.

"Weak in body makes for weak in mind," he says, as if affirming what I'm thinking. "Now, focus on the target."

I kick my horse to move and the horse progresses in a circular pattern around the altar.

"Now, take your bow and arrow. Remember that a Huldra never misses when she is fixated on her target. You cannot miss, unless there is something else you allow yourself to be distracted by."

My eyes fixate on the target. Pulling my bowstring tight, I relax into the movement and let go. The arrow hits the target but bounces on impact.

"Do I need to remind you that you must...?"

I interrupt him. "No!" I snatch another arrow out of the quiver and refocus, pulling the string back as hard as I can before releasing it. It makes a swooshing sound, and with a thud, pierces and embeds itself into the bag. I give Olaf a triumphant look.

He inspects it. "Good, now—bring your horse to a trot and do three in a row."

I know I can do this. "Yah!" I tap the horse with my legs and the horse jolts into a nice trot. Focus, Sonia, I tell myself. With my arrow pointed at the bag, I release it, grab another arrow, release it, grab another arrow, but before I release the third arrow something catches my attention. I release the arrow and look up, but don't see anything other than bushes and shrubbery.

"Good on the first two, but you missed on the last one," Olaf points out.

"I know, but I saw something moving in the woods," I say, peering in the direction in which I thought I saw movement.

"A bird maybe?" he suggests.

"Maybe." But the object or animal I saw from the corner of my eye seemed to be larger than a bird. Much larger.

"Now, off the horse," he commands.

"Can I try again?" I ask.

"No, you can try again later. I have to show you something else."

I steer the horse over to the altar.

"Need help getting down?" Olaf offers.

I don't really want his help, and still feel awkward in his presence from his night visitation, but accept anyway. "Sure." I return my bow to my back and swing my legs over to the left side of the horse.

Olaf grabs my waist and lifts me off the horse, and when my feet almost reach the ground, he clasps me around the waist and flings me onto the altar.

"What are you doing?" I yell. I hadn't expected this.

"Do not resist, Sonia. There is no use in doing so. I knew from the moment I saw you that I was meant to have your gift," he whispers in my ear as he holds me down.

"Stop it! Stop, Olaf! Someone help!" Adrenaline rushes through my body and I try to think of ways to escape.

"No use in thinking, Sonia, have you not yet realized that? I will always be one step ahead of you because you are so weak-minded that I can read all your thoughts. Do not worry, little dancer, I am not after what some men might be after. I am only after your gift."

I wiggle my left arm free and try to punch him in the face, but he grabs my arm and pins it behind my back in a flash. My arm feels like it's going to tear off, he's twisting it so forcefully. "Let me go, you creep!"

"No, no, no, dear, there is no use in wasting your breath because there is no one else here. No one will come to your rescue." He pulls out a silky, white rope and ties my wrists in front of my body and my feet together.

Oh, dear God, is he going to sacrifice me?

"No, I am not going to sacrifice you. How would you give me your gift if you were dead? You will give it to me because I have your mother," he says.

"I knew you kidnapped her!"

"Let us stop the chit chat, shall we?" He gags me with a black handkerchief. Breathing heavily, he paces around the altar, as if he's trying to evaluate his next move. My horse neighs, moving around nervously. Olaf goes over to calm him, but instead, the horse stands up on its hind legs and brays loudly.

Just then I notice the beast I saw last night slowly emerging from the deepest part of the woods. My horse takes off galloping back toward the stables.

In the light, the beast looks even more terrifying than I remember. It's a muscular beast with sharp claws on the front two paws and hooves on the rear. The black zigzag spine of the snake tail continues to the beast's back and contrasts with his golden reptile skin. The goat horns are set above golden eyes that burn with hunger. I feel a surge of terror that overcomes my ability to think rationally. Warn Olaf, I'm finally able to think. I scream as loudly as I can with the handkerchief securely gagging my mouth, but Olaf isn't paying attention. He's busy trying to calm his horse and probably thinks I'm screaming for help from him.

The beast moves methodically toward Olaf, his eyes fixed and angry. His jaws open, revealing layers of fangs. I inch my way to the edge of the altar and roll off on the opposite side of the beast. The fall hurts, knocking the breath out of me, but I hope the beast hasn't seen me or will forget about me if it can't see me anymore. My new position means that I'm unable to see what's happening between the beast and Olaf. The beast roars and I hear Olaf screech. I feel sorry for him; the beast is probably devouring him alive. Stifling a sob, I try to remain calm, though I'm powerless to quiet my pounding heart. Olaf screams again and again, but slowly his screams turn to moans. After what seems like an eternity, I can't hear Olaf anymore—only the heavy panting of the beast. I'm next and I'm dead, I think, and squeeze my eyes shut, barely daring to breathe. I curl up into a ball, clenching my head, waiting for the beast to approach. But the beast never comes. Instead, the air grows silent, and all I hear is the soft sway of the trees and their leaves rustling in the wind.

I don't know exactly how long it takes, but finally I find the courage to sit up and peek over the altar. The beast has vanished, and Olaf's body lies prostrate on the ground with blood on his clothes as well as blood pooling in the grass below his lifeless figure.

"Olaf?" I try and say through the handkerchief that's gagging me. He doesn't respond. "Olaf?" I say a little louder. Again, no response. I crawl toward him all the while looking to see if the beast will return. Why didn't the beast eat Olaf? That seems like the only logical reason why it killed him—for food. I sit down next to Olaf and pull out the dagger secured around his thigh. With both hands, I cut the cord around my ankles. Then by placing the dagger between my knees, I manage to saw at the rope around my wrists. It finally loosens and my hands are free to remove the handkerchief.

"Olaf?" I say again, nudging him this time with my index finger. When he doesn't move, I roll him over onto his back and look at his face. His eyes are open and I can tell immediately that he's dead.

I gasp and begin to cry, not because I'm sad that he died, or died in such a cruel way, but because if he was the one who kidnapped my mom, I might never find out where she is. The secret may have died with him, unless Maureen or Layla know.

Slowly, I pull myself together, knowing I have to do something. I'm free now and can technically run away. If it weren't for that stupid detector that's buried somewhere in my body, I might have a fair shot at escaping this island. I weigh another threat: if I run away, I also risk running into the beast and if that happens, I'll have no chance of surviving. I consider my choices carefully again and come to the conclusion that the best option is to further investigate the island. Layla and Maureen won't be expecting Olaf and me back for a few hours anyway, so I must seize the opportunity to do some exploring now. What I find might help me escape down the road, and now that I've almost given up on Anthony rescuing me, I need to become completely self-reliant.

Chapter 35

I head down the path that continues on the other side of the grove, in the opposite direction from where Olaf and I came. Moving slowly at first, I stop and listen every time I hear the smallest of sounds. The beast could be anywhere, and maybe it's waiting for me to pass its hiding place in the bushes so it can attack me. I convince myself that it wants to eat me because it's hungry. All beasts are hungry all the time, aren't they? Perhaps the beast didn't eat Olaf because it really wanted my flesh. I am much younger, so I probably smell better and will taste much better than an ancient...whatever Olaf was. I'm surprised that I don't feel bad about Olaf dying. I'd never have wished for him to die, but I'm relieved that he's dead. In reality, I just worry about what Layla and Maureen will say. Maybe they won't believe my story of what happened and will accuse me of killing him.

Dried branches and crunchy gravel crack beneath my feet with each step. Even with all my dancer grace, I can't prevent the sounds, and with each step, I grow increasingly nervous that the beast will hear me. Maybe I should just turn back; at least I'd be safer at the castle.

Suddenly, the beast jumps out from the woods onto the path in the distance, making me nearly have a heart attack where I stand. The beast has undoubtedly seen me; it's walking in my direction, snarling, eyes glued on me. Then I remember what I learned in school in first or second grade. If a dog is coming to attack you, you shouldn't run, you should only stand your ground and act confident, not afraid. This is not a dog, though, I remind myself, but I decide to take heed to the advice anyway. Either way, I'm dead.

The beast stands only a few feet away from me now, and I prepare to meet my maker. I hope my mom knows I love her, and that Anthony knows that I care for him, too. My chest is pounding and my nails bite into the palms of my hands as I wait for the assault, but the beast doesn't charge. Instead, the beast licks its fangs and sits down. I'm shocked, and don't quite know what to do. The beast rises to its feet again and approaches me very slowly, acting calm now, not aggressive at all. It treads around me, presses its snout up against my back and pushes me gently off balance. I take a step forward. Bewildered, I look back at it, and stare it in the eyes, feeling myself nearly passing out, or vomiting, one of the two—I can't tell. The beast presses its snout against my back again, pushing me off balance and I step forward again.

I point in the direction with my trembling hand. "You want me to go this way?" I can't believe I am actually talking to it.

The beast's head moves up and down.

Shocked, I think: was that a nod? I look at it again, thinking I must have imagined it. "Did you just—nod?"

It nods again. I turn around and comply by moving down the pathway and we continue for a few minutes. When I slow my pace a little, the beast gives me a shove so I have to continue to move forward.

After walking for about fifteen minutes, we arrive at the shore. A small sandy beach with large rocks on either side opens up before me. The beast runs past me and leaps into the ocean, disappearing into its rushing waves. Relief washes over me; it didn't eat me after all. I wonder where it went.

In the distance, I see what I think is the mainland. I inhale the fresh ocean breeze, smelling the freedom that might soon be mine, if I choose to try and escape. Looking back into the blue ocean, I don't see the beast anywhere. Then, a man comes out of the water. I know him.

"Anthony!" I yell. "Wait, Anthony?" Shivers go through my spine. I'm excited to see him, but also wary because of all the things Layla and Maureen told me.

"I've been looking everywhere for you!" he exclaims, swimming toward me through the salty waves. He rises to his feet and stands where the water reaches his waist.

"Did you see the beast? Where did the beast go?" I ask.

He looks at me with wide eyes.

"Didn't you see it?" I ask.

His arms open wide and he looks down at his abdomen.

"Wait...you're not trying to tell me that...?" Was this yet another secret of his?

He nods. "I'm so glad to see you." His upper body is bare, his tan skin glistening in the sun. "Come here."

I take a step into the water. "I'm really glad to see you, Anthony, but I thought we said no more secrets." This new secret gives me reason to doubt him. He shape-shifted. Darkálfars shape-shift. Maybe Maureen and Layla are telling the truth.

His eyes darken. "This isn't a secret. I didn't know that this would happen to me when I stepped onto Wraithsong Island. I morph into a...creature, and the moment I step off the island, and into the ocean, I'm back to normal."

I squint my eyes, searching for truth or lies in his blue eyes. "Do you realize that you just killed Olaf?" I have mixed emotions about Olaf being killed now. I'm relieved that he's gone and that I don't have to worry about him anymore, but Anthony shouldn't have killed him. Olaf's appalling behavior still didn't warrant someone taking his life.

"Yes, I know. I feel horrible about it, but it looked like he was going to do something to harm you. I lost my temper and didn't realize how strong I was—how strong the beast was. I only wanted to frighten him, not kill him."

I take a few more steps in his direction. Is he being honest? His eyes look sincere. I don't know what to believe; I'm so confused. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know that I can do anything about it. If I step back onto the island, I'll just turn back into the beast."

I see his point, but I'm not content with his answer and lack of solution. "I'll have to notify Layla and she'll be furious."

"I've never killed a man before." His eyebrows furrow deeply.

"And you shouldn't have killed now."

For a moment, he seems at a loss for words.

"Did you see me the other night you were in the castle?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you follow me out the window?" I inch closer.

"Because I thought I would frighten you and that you'd scream so loudly that you would wake everyone else in the castle," Anthony explains.

He's right; I would have screamed.

"Then they would know I was there and they'd all chase after me. I just needed to know that you were there. Please come here." His arms open wide.

I wade through the cool water to meet him. "I'm afraid." I stop a few feet away from him. "They say you're a Darkálfar, and you shape-shifting into another creature only verifies what they told me. Is it true that your father was a Darkálfar?"

Anthony hesitates and then he closes his eyes. "Yes, I'm half Huldu, half Darkálfar."

I bury my face in my hands for I can't muster the strength to look at him. A Darkálfar. He's evil. I remember him saying there are no good Darkálfars. None. My heart crumbles into a million pieces, knowing we can never be together. Not only because the Huldra code forbids it. We can never be together because I don't want to be with an inherently evil being.

"I know what you're thinking," he whispers.

I let out a despairing sigh. "You can't possibly know what I'm thinking."

"That I'm malicious, and that I lied to you and that you can never be with someone who is—evil." He stares at me for a moment, his eyes burning intensely.

I nod. "You're evil?" I swallow again and again, trying to squash the tears.

"I inherited my mother's Huldra character traits so once I turned eighteen, I no longer had any Darkálfar in me. Like you no longer have human in you. I'm not evil, Sonia. I want to do what's right. I don't want to be like my father, or like my mother."

Should I believe him? I search his eyes, trying to find in them the answer to my question. My search is impossible.

He touches my shoulder and glides his finger down my arm all the way to my fingertips. His touch leaves trails of goose bumps on my skin. He comes closer and then caresses my cheek.

"You don't need to be afraid anymore. I'm here—for you."

I feel the sincerity of his words deep in my core. He risked his life for me so I could find my mom. He risked his life by coming here, searching for me. He can't be evil, like Maureen and Layla have tried to convince me. He must be inherently good—even after all the evil things that have happened to him. "Take me away from here," I say, feeling like I've just come home.

"You're not mad at me for not telling you?" Anthony asks.

I look at him. "How can I be mad at you? You came here and risked your life to rescue me."

He embraces me tightly and all my fears evaporate. "I missed you, Sonia." I hear the relief in his voice; it's the same relief that exists in my soul.

In that very moment, I know without a shadow of a doubt that all Maureen has been feeding me about Anthony are lies. I feel so safe back in his arms and know he'd never purposely deceive me or hurt me in any way.

"Where are the Lightálfars?" I ask.

Drops of saltwater drip off his blond hair. "They're back in New Hampshire with the Huldras and are ready to attack," he says.

"Let's go there." His beautiful, blue eyes immediately unstitch me. Then, I notice him resisting me. "What is it?" I ask.

"Have you found your mother yet?"

"No." I huff. The mention of her nearly takes my breath away.

"I'm not going to tell you what to do, but I think the best thing you could do is stay on Wraithsong Island until you've located her. Your mother has got to be in the castle somewhere. Are you aware of any cellars or underground dungeons?"

"No. Last night I quit exploring after my incident with the—beast. I didn't want to meet him again." I punch him softly on the shoulder, and then stroke it instead. "Before I ran into the beast, Olaf broke into my room in the middle of the night." Shivers go through my body as I remember Olaf's disturbing eyes on me.

"I wonder why Maureen put up with Olaf. He has always been a backstabber," Anthony says.

"You know, they all said some pretty bad stuff about you." I trace the inside of his arm with my fingertips. "Even Maureen." I don't want to hurt him, but I feel he deserves to know the truth.

"Did you believe them?" Anthony sounds calm, but I detect something that almost sounds like insecurity in his voice.

For a moment he looks much younger than he is, and completely vulnerable. I think of Anthony and all he must have endured as a child to be raised by Maureen. She probably used him to promote and execute her devious plans. I see him as a little boy in my mind's eye, searching for love from his mother, but never finding it. He must have loved her, must have searched for love there, but instead of the love of a mother, he found a person who only wanted to use him. He was only of value as long as he served Maureen's purposes.

"I thought about some of their claims, because they seemed credible. But in the end—no—I didn't believe them."

"Good, because they were lies to try and drive a wedge between us and to break up the Huldra Dynasty." He leans down and presses his salty lips against mine. I run my fingers through his wet hair, tugging at it gently.

I know in my heart that he's speaking the truth. I wrap my arms around his bare waist, and something occurs to me. He's completely naked. I pull away, feeling slightly awkward, yet slightly thrilled. "So—where are your clothes?" I try not to blush.

The corner of Anthony's lips twitches and for a moment he appears self-conscious. "Well—it's not exactly easy to carry around clothing when I turn into a beast."

"I can understand that," I say.

"When I figured out that I'd be completely—in the nude after I changed back from my demon self, I threw a few bags of clothes onto shore and into the bushes back there." He points. "Do you mind?"

"Sure, I'll go get it." I turn to face the shore, but Wraithsong Island has disappeared and only miles and miles of ocean remain. I look back at Anthony.

"The instant you step off the island, it becomes invisible. We can only see it and locate it from underneath the ocean's surface. If you get my shorts first, I can show you."

"Okay."

"Just walk straight forward and you will see the island once your feet touch the land."

I follow his instructions and then, suddenly out of nowhere, I see the island in front of me. I gasp a little and then continue to search the bushes for Anthony's bag. Once I find it, I toss it to him and turn away to give him privacy.

"Can I show you the island beneath the surface?" he asks.

I turn around and wade back into the water all the way back to him. When he takes my hand and pulls me with him, I resist. "I—I'm not used to swimming under water."

He smiles. "You're in for a surprise then. Remember when I went through the Book of Huldras and mentioned environmental adaptation?"

I nod faintly. "Are you sure I won't drown?"

"Absolutely. Unless you're not a Huldra, that is—"

"Very funny," I splash water on him.

Anthony shields himself by lifting his hands in front of his face. "When you submerge under water, hold your breath, and your body will do the rest, okay?"

I grab his arm. "Wait, I'm scared. What if it doesn't work?"

"Well, we'll be submerged under water right here until you feel comfortable. You can always just stand up."

"Will it hurt?" I ask.

"I'm not going to lie. The first time you breathe under water it hurts. You'll need to hold your breath until your lungs start burning, and then your air passages will open. That will be painful, and you'll feel like your skin is being ripped apart, but only for a moment."

I wince. "Okay, I'm just going to do it." The less I think about it, the easier it will be. I inhale and submerge my whole body into the water and when I open my eyes, I see Anthony's smiling face right in front of me.

My lungs start burning after a little while, and I want to inhale, but I resist because I'm determined to make this happen on the first try. My lungs burn more and I exhale. Then my lungs burn even more, and just when I think I won't be able to hold my breath for a second longer, it feels like my skin rips apart on my back. The pain is unbelievable, and I scream under the water. I want to look back to see if there is blood seeping out of my skin, but find strength in Anthony's gaze. Finally, the release comes with cool water being sucked up underneath my skin, and I take my very first breath under water with my newborn air passages.

Anthony swims around me, moving effortlessly as if he has done this his entire life. He kisses my lips and hugs me close. His eyes look fluorescent blue in the water and his skin is smooth beneath my fingertips.

I find myself moving deeper and deeper beneath the waves with Anthony, down to the bottom of the ocean floor. Fish, eel, jellyfish, shrimp and even a whale swim below the surface. There are red, gray and blue corals on the ocean floor and the sunbeams sparkle through the waves overhead, creating a light spectacle on the sandy bottom.

Anthony takes my hand and we swim away from Wraithsong Island. I swim much faster than I thought I could; it's as if the resistance of the water is no longer a hindrance. When we gain some distance he turns us around and points.

I see the bottom of Wraithsong Island. The island's base floats under the water, hovering above the ocean floor, and now I understand. We can see the island clearly from the bottom, and that's how he had found me.

Anthony pulls me up to the surface, and I start breathing through my mouth.

"Look over there," he says, still pointing. Wraithsong Island is invisible on the surface.

He kisses me again, pulling me beneath the soft swaying waves. We swim back to the shore hand in hand. Along the way I marvel at how much life there is beneath the ocean. The surface of the water seems so quiet—so dead—but beneath it is a whole other world, secretly resting, quietly hiding.

When we finally arrive back at the island, we walk toward it hand in hand.

Chapter 36

After Anthony is fully dressed, we sit on the shore with our feet still in the ocean so he won't morph back into the beast. It's so beautiful out here, as if we have entered another world.

I lean my head onto his shoulder. "I have a question." I hope it's not inappropriate.

"Yes?"

"Why does Maureen keep changing her hair style and color?"

Anthony thinks for a moment. "It's nothing other than a twisted form of self-expressions that she considers a symbol of power."

"Power?" I ask.

"A primitive creed states that owning hair from another's head gives one power over that individual. Maureen took it a step further and killed every person she appropriated virtues from, thinking that by wearing their hair she'd have their powers."

I squirm. "That's...messed up."

Anthony stares into the distance and his countenance darkens. "I see it as a sign of her weakness and her inner instability. Her beauty is only skin-deep—only superficial and ever-changing. She can love no one because she's always hunting for the next being she can manipulate and use for her purposes."

I get the feeling he's talking about his own relationship with her. He has never felt loved by his mom, never felt unconditional love at all. Even his dad was evil, and though he left Anthony, Anthony still yearns after some form of affection. He must be a very strong soul to have turned away from his parents' ways and choose to do what is right. I kiss him on the cheek.

"What was that for?" he asks.

"Because you're amazing."

"You still believe that, even after you know who I am?"

"I know that." I take a deep breath and lean my head on his shoulder again and we sit in silence for some time. "I overheard Maureen and Olaf talking about my fifth Huldra gift."

"And?"

"She called it the gift of Cherubo. Do you know what that means?"

"No," Anthony says.

"She made it sound like it was something special."

"Then it probably is."

"So what do we do now?"

"If you decide to stay here, you need to try to create allies, and of course look for your mother at night," Anthony says.

Allies. I hadn't thought about that, but it could come in handy down the road. "I need to stay. I'm convinced my mom's somewhere inside the castle and I want to keep looking for her." I think about his suggestion to create allies some more and then say, "I think I'll try to make a friend out of Layla."

He takes my hand and kisses it.

"How will I get the message to you if I find my mom?" I say.

"I'll come back and wait for you right here every night. If you don't come, I'll know that you haven't found your mother," he says.

There needs to be an easier solution to our communication. "Can't you just give me a cell phone or something?"

"I'm afraid Maureen's radar is linked to the advanced computer system at the castle and will pick up on our signals. When I was roaming around the island, I saw several towers. That's how she knew I started working against her, remember? She intercepted our calls."

That reminds me of my tracking device. "Maureen told me she implanted a tracking device into my body, but I don't know where."

"Oh." Anthony sounds like he thinks it's a very bad thing. "It would have been inserted through your nose. She does that to most of her prisoners."

I cringe. "No wonder I haven't been able to find an incision." Now that I think about it, I have felt rather congested since I got here, but I just assumed it was my body reacting to a change in the environment.

"She probably headed here the second you crossed into the water. We need to make a plan before she comes."

I don't want our time to be over so soon. I instinctively intertwine my arm with his.

"Once you've located your mother, meet me at the shore at sunset," Anthony says.

"No good. Maureen has me studying until late at night and there's no way she'll let me out of it."

Anthony thinks for a second. "How about...at midnight?"

"Or we could do sunrise, since Maureen doesn't have me starting classes until nine o'clock in the morning. That way, if I find my mom during the night, I can notify you," I say.

"Good thinking."

I smile. It isn't the best plan, but at least it is a plan for now. "What's the strategy after that?"

"We move in with all the Huldras and Lightálfars and attack," Anthony says.

"Good. Do any of the other Huldras...morph into monsters?" I ask.

"I hope not because when turning into the beast, I can't use weapons," Anthony says.

I gaze out onto the open sea. The azure sky is spotted with hundreds of fluffy clouds. "So how many Huldras showed up?"

"All nine." Anthony looks pleased, his eyes beaming. "The last one arrived just before I came today, and Ross is training them this very second. Let me tell you, these Huldras can handle their weapons! Most of them look like kids in a candy shop when they see the guns we have."

I laugh. "So thirteen Huldras, three Lightálfars and a mulatto against—?" I say.

"Ha, ha, is the mulatto you, then?" Anthony says.

I grin and a chuckle escapes my lips. "I guess we both fit under that category—mixed breeds."

Anthony is silent for a while. "We don't know how many beings Maureen has, but there's at least one less since this morning," he says, referring to Olaf.

I still feel a pang of guilt when I think about Olaf's death. Anthony killed someone, and even though Olaf was a cruel Huldu, he shouldn't have lost his life. What will I say to Layla and Maureen? I'll just have to tell them the truth. At least Layla knows about the beast, since I told her about it last night. I wonder if she knows that the beast is Anthony and that's the reason she said I shouldn't mention it to Maureen.

Anthony stands up abruptly and pulls me to a standing position. "Someone's coming. I have to go. Will you be all right?"

"Yes," I say, feeling anything but.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning, I hope," he says. Then he kisses me deeply before diving back into the ocean.

"Until tomorrow," I say out loud. I love you.

Chapter 37

Layla is the one who comes for me. My tracker had gone off, she tells me when she sees me. In a surprisingly unsympathetic voice, she tells me she saw Olaf's corpse lying by the altar in the grove. She's not distraught by his death at all, which I think is rather unusual. How callous is this Darkálfar? The absolute last thing I want to do right now is return to the site of the murder. I don't want to see Olaf's torn up body and I definitely don't want to be reminded of the gruesome assault. I can still hear Olaf's desperate screams in my head, and now that I know that Anthony is the beast, his death is all the more disturbing.

Back in the grove, I avoid looking directly at Olaf's lifeless body. Layla heads straight toward him and I stay a step or two behind her. I can't prevent myself from seeing him from the corner of my eye. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, knowing his screams will stay with me for the rest of my life.

"The beast I told you about did this." I glance quickly at him and then squeeze my eyes shut.

"Well, I think we both know at this point who the beast really is," Layla says, shooting me a glance.

"Who?" I sound so stunned that I would even have believed my own cover up if I didn't know the truth. I'm not going to give Anthony away so easily.

"Come on, Sonia. Don't pretend you don't know who the beast is," Layla says.

"Is it a morphed Darkálfar?" I ask innocently. I gasp and my hand hits my mouth.

"Really? You don't know who it is?" She gets a puzzled look on her face.

"How would I know? All I know is that I'm terrified the beast is going to kill us all unless we do something about it. It chased me all the way down to the shore, and when it was about to charge, I think it heard you and then dove past me into the water. That's when you came. Thank you for saving my life."

Layla appears moved by my gratitude, and that reminds me about what Anthony said about making a friend.

"Well, Olaf had it coming. He was getting on Maureen's nerves, so if the beast hadn't gotten to him first, she would have done something to get rid of him."

"Really? Because when Olaf broke into my room the other night, he said he had been loyal for centuries, and that Maureen wouldn't believe a word I said about him intruding on my space."

"Stupid Olaf. He was a fool—a fool who thought he could have everything and everyone," Layla says.

"He even said he had bedded you." I know that comment will send Layla spinning, and I hope it will create common ground between us, and eventually a wedge between her and Maureen.

"He tried a few times, that jerk. I'm actually glad he's dead. Maureen gave him so many gifts and all he wanted was more, more and more. He was a pathetic excuse for a Huldu, and a greedy one at that!" Smiling, she kicks him and I think I'm going to vomit.

I see another opportunity for bonding with Layla and manage to breathe through my nausea. "Hey, I'm sorry I didn't believe you about all you told me, but now that I've actually seen this horrible monster kill one of—us, I'll believe anything you say from now on." Did that sound too amiable? I don't think so. "Was the monster a Darkálfar?"

Layla smiles and nods. "Indeed it was a Darkálfar. Finally coming to your senses then?"

"I guess." I want to know more about Layla, and sense that she might be open to it. "So how did you get to be with Maureen anyway?"

Layla shoots me a not-so-friendly sideway glance.

When she doesn't respond, I say, "You're a Lightálfar, right?"

"I'm actually half Lightálfar, half Darkálfar," Layla says.

I can believe that. "Wow, what a mix! It's like half evil, half good."

"Well, that's the way most beings are anyway, aren't they?" Layla looks up into the sky and breathes deeply, her red short hair moving with the wind. "Let's find the horses. Don't worry about Olaf. He'll be fine."

"What? We can't just leave him here in the open," I say. "We should bury him or bring him back to the castle at least."

"Why would we waste our time giving that creep a burial," Layla says. "He'll probably come back from the dead anyway." Layla rolls her eyes, and I get the distinct feeling that there's something I don't know.

"It's the right thing to do." I think even 'that creep's' remains deserve some type of burial.

"If you want, I'll give you time tomorrow so you can have your ceremony. Let's go," Layla says.

"That's okay. It's probably best if you send someone else." I sincerely hope she'll do it.

We locate both horses about a quarter of a mile away from the altar, drinking from a rustling brook Olaf and I passed on our way to the grove. We mount them and ride back to the castle. When we arrive, I go straight to my room and change out of my wet clothes. Meatloaf and potatoes wait on my desk. As I devour the meal, I realize Layla never really answered my question about how she came to be with Maureen, but I'm still set on finding out.

* * *

"After dinner," Layla said before we separated, "meet me in the classroom for a lesson on the physical advantage of the Huldra." I wonder what that means, but think it might be an interesting lecture.

I flip the Book of Huldras to page 778 as I wait for Layla to arrive.

All Huldras have the following gift: the gift of climate adaptation. This includes, but is not limited to: resilience in extremely cold weather, resilience and immunity to extreme heat, the ability to survive under water without coming up for air for many days (though no one knows exactly how long), the ability to...

I hear footsteps and close the book and quickly lunge into my seat as if I've been sitting there the entire time. Layla enters the classroom carrying something that looks like a make-up bag and she also has a black garment bag draped over her shoulder.

"Let's go to the second floor today. I'm going to teach you how to dress and put on make-up properly."

"Why?" I thought I had all that stuff down, and what's the point of this lecture? It sounds like a complete waste of time. No, it is a complete waste of time.

"Because Maureen told me that you desperately needed it." Layla turns on her heels and treads out the door. I follow after her, not happy with all these lessons that don't seem to bring me any closer to saving my mom.

The large living room looks like a Spanish dreamland. An over-sized painting of a flamenco dancer is the centerpiece of this chamber. The woman in the painting is curvy and wears a brilliant red dress, holding a pair of black castanets above her head. Red and white striped silk drapes cascade down the tall windows. I walk over to a window, catching a glimpse of the view, thinking that Wraithsong Island looks every bit like scenes from a Norwegian documentary I saw a few years back. The island is dramatic—even majestic. I don't notice many flat surfaces, and every hill, every mountain, every corner is covered in some type of greenery.

Layla places the garment bag on the sofa and unzips it. "Ready to slip into the new you?"

"Is this supposed to be a makeover?" I say, not thrilled at all.

"I guess you can say that, but it's so much more than an average makeover." Layla pulls a gold sequined dress out from the garment bag. "Let me help you squeeze into this."

"This is actually part of a Huldra's formal training?" I ask after Layla has helped me squeeze into a dress of minimal proportions. I feel like a walking sausage, ready to explode at my next move.

"Of course. Powerful men want their women looking and acting a certain way. You have to attract the hornets with honey. They won't be coming after you if you look and smell like mac and cheese. Gold, sweet and glistening—that's where it's at." She proceeds to do my hair and after that, my make-up. When she's finished with me, she places me in the center of the room.

"Now let me have a look at you." Layla steps back.

"How am I supposed to move in this gown? I can barely even breathe!" I say, sucking it all in.

"Think of it as a tutu. You can't really breathe in a tutu, can you?" Layla says.

I grimace. I told Layla in one of my lessons that I was a dancer, but now I'm regretting it since she's using this information to strengthen her argument. "Well, at least I can move my legs in a tutu."

"Class, Sonia, that's what's important. That's what you need." She studies me carefully.

I turn and look in the mirror. "I look like I'm...thirty—no forty years old in this dress and with this hair-do." The gold dress has one strap, which runs over my left shoulder. The shoes are four-inch gold and rhinestone stilettos, and my hair is pulled up into a tight French twist. "My make-up is way too heavy. I look like a...bimbo!"

"No you don't. It's just right," Layla rebuffs.

"Why do I have to learn about this to save my mom?" Layla is wasting my time.

"Because we may have to influence a few powerful men along the way to get your mother back," Layla says.

I'm definitely going to find my mom tonight, even if it means I need to stay up all night to make it happen. I don't want to talk to Layla about that, so I pursue the question that still remains unanswered. "So how did you get to be with Maureen exactly?"

Layla scowls at me. "It's really none of your concern, but I'll tell you because if I don't, you'll never stop asking me about it."

I can't tell if she's frustrated with me or if she's trying to be funny. I laugh nervously.

"I'm actually Maureen's ex-husband's daughter," Layla says.

"So you're Anthony's half-sister?" I assume.

Layla zips the make-up bag closed. "No. Maureen has had...several husbands. Anthony and I don't share the same father or the same mother."

"So that makes you related by marriage, but not by blood...?" I ask.

"I would never consider myself related to that imbecile," Layla says uneasily.

I don't appreciate her talking about Anthony like that, but I keep my mouth closed in hopes that I can win her over.

"I want nothing to do with Anthony or my evil Darkálfar father."

"And your mom?"

"She was a Lightálfar and died in a battle against the Darkálfars. That's why I hate them and what they did, not only to me, but also to Maureen and her family. Maureen hates Anthony because he reminds her too much of her ex-husband—Anthony's father—since they look very similar."

"But that's not Anthony's fault." I can't help myself from defending him.

"No, it isn't, but it's not just his looks. When Maureen was young, her father used to beat her. She swore to herself to never again surround herself with violent people, so when Anthony showed too many aggressive tendencies, Maureen, being the peaceful Huldra she is, couldn't handle it."

Maureen—peaceful? Yeah, right. "When was Maureen born?" I ask.

"Let's just say that she has lived long enough to outlive eight husbands, all of them Huldus, except for Anthony's father, and my father, both Darkálfars."

"Eight?" She must not have been nearly as selective as my mom about who she married. Suddenly I remember my mom saying that five Huldus had vanished, and I wonder if they were Maureen's husbands. Come to think of it, my mom had also mentioned that the other Huldus died in wars. At the time, I assumed that the Huldus had died in civil wars and world wars, but now I realize they must have perished in the wars against the Darkálfars.

"Keep this between us." Layla approaches me and whispers, "I heard that Maureen was born in Norway during the Viking era and served an evil Empress named Eiess." She nods.

"Really? Wow!" It makes sense why her home is decorated in Norse designs and why she's so ruthless. "What happened to all the Lightálfars, Huldras and Huldus? There were many more in the beginning, weren't there?" Mani told me some about it, but I want to know more.

"Yes, they grew to thousands, but the wars killed most of them. Though I'm not old enough to remember the most recent war twenty or so years ago, I've heard that so many died in that battle. Thankfully, there hasn't been a war since."

"It makes me sad that I'm part of a dying race," I say.

"That's why it's vital that you marry a Huldu and procreate."

I squirm at the word procreate. "But there are no pure Huldus left, are there?"

"Well, there was Olaf." She smiles glibly.

"I'd never have married Olaf," I say, disgusted.

Layla laughs. "I know what you mean. I wouldn't wish that upon you, either." She pauses for a moment and her eyes narrow. "I've heard rumors that there's a group of your kind hidden in the northern European countries. Maybe you can find them and marry one of them?"

"Where did you hear that?" I ask.

"Maureen used to own ancient writings with maps of where these clans lived, but now they're gone. She thinks Anthony stole them from her."

I think about the chest he showed me.

"But Maureen will do anything just to stay away from his aggression," Layla says. "Even if that includes letting him have those sacred texts."

I feel sorry for Layla and that she actually believes the fabrications Maureen has been feeding her for so long. Layla might have been a good person if Maureen hadn't been lying to her all these years, and if she had known the truth. "Hmm, that's funny," I say.

"What?"

"Maureen has become what she was trying to run away from."

"Why would you say that?" Layla snaps, her voice defensive.

"She owns masses of weapons and lives by the creed that life is unjust and that only the fittest survive. Sounds rather aggressive to me, wouldn't you say?" I know I'm going out on a limb here with Layla and hold my breath.

"Maureen needs to protect herself from Anthony and her two Darkálfar ex-husbands, and all others who are out to harm Huldras. She has a right to defend her life."

I just nod, but I want to tell Layla that she's been living a lie. I don't think the information will be received well, so I go in a different direction. "How old were you when you started working with Maureen?"

"Maureen took me in when I was twelve." She crosses her arms.

I notice the golden ring on her finger, an exact replica of Anthony's golden ring. "Where did you get your ring?" I gasp.

"It was my mother's. Why?"

I wonder whom Layla's mom got it from—maybe Layla's dad? Who might be Anthony's dad, too? I refrain from telling her that Anthony has the exact same ring that his dad gave him, so instead, I ask, "Did you know your dad?"

"No," Layla says, immediately rigid.

"Where did you live growing up?" I'm glad it has become so easy to ask her questions.

"Kensington," she answers.

"Are you sure that you and Anthony don't share the same father?" I ask and hold my breath.

She looks at her ring for a moment, and I suspect that my hunch about her ring being from her dad is true. "Don't be ridiculous, Sonia. I don't want to hear talk like that. Besides, Maureen would never lie to me about such things."

I hesitate. "Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure. Maureen is like a mother to me, and she has always been there through thick and thin." Layla's pale green eyes catch the light from the setting sun coming in from the window. Her eyes flash, as if a field of pain sleeps beyond them, and I think maybe she too, like Anthony, is seeking love and acceptance from Maureen. My heart bleeds for her, knowing she'll never find it there.

"I'm sorry—it's just I really think that..."

Laylas eyes go wild and she shoves me up against the walnut closet that stands next to the bed. It rattles as my back slams against it. Her forearm presses up underneath my chin. I can't breathe. "Stop talking right now, or I'll tell Maureen, and you'll regret it!"

"Sure," I croak, adrenaline rushing through my veins. "No more words, I promise." Sometimes people can't hear the truth, because they're so afraid of losing the story they keep telling themselves—their hard-earned identity.

Layla releases her grip slowly, her eyes softening, looking away as if she's ashamed of her reaction. "I'm sorry. I just...Maureen is the only one who's been there for me. I'll protect both her reputation and her life with my own. Once you get to know her, you'll see that she's good, even though she's not perfect." She opens the door and looks absentmindedly out into the hallway. "Any questions before I dismiss you?"

"No," I say, still trying to recover from the blow.

Layla leaves the room and I finally exhale. I think back to Anthony, and how much he must have suffered growing up around Maureen's insanity. His family, the ones who should have loved and accepted him, hated and abandoned him, and fed him lie upon lie. How did he recover from that? Has he recovered from that? If he did, how did he find the strength to trust again—trust me—and risk his life for me? I know there's so much he hasn't told me, so much pain he must hold inside. I wonder if it will eventually all come out. I want to be there when it does. I want to be the one to catch him when he plummets into the chasm of pain that I know hides beneath his strong shell. I'll fill him with so much love that he'll never need another and will never remember how much pain his shattered soul endured.

Chapter 38

After I peel myself out of the sausage dress, I meander back to my room. I watch the clock obsessively, waiting for the noises in all the rooms to die down, telling me that everyone has gone to bed. Finally, around ten past eleven, all lights are out, and the silence of the night falls over the castle.

I step out into the dark hallway and take a right. I haven't been in that direction since I came here and was dragged to my room by Layla. Please, God, help me find my mom. I try to open every door, but they're all locked and the end of the hallway is a dead-end. Feeling a bit discouraged, I decide to try a different part of the castle and head to the second floor again. I should really try the third floor, I think on my way up the stairs. It's the only floor I'm forbidden to enter, and there's probably a good reason why.

A large vestibule with vaulted cathedral ceilings opens up as I reach the third floor. My heart beats because the flights of stairs were arduous to climb, and because I know I shouldn't be here. Orange couches are pushed against the walls on the right and left and stand between double French doors. Three fluted marble pillars stand on either side. I walk across the Persian carpet to the end of the room where a gigantic painting of a Viking ship hangs. The frame of the painting is made of gold. I reach to trace my fingers across the ridged oil painting, but instead, and to my astonishment, my fingers go beyond the canvas and paint and into an unknown territory. I gasp and withdraw my hand. "A portal," I whisper. I touch it again and notice that as my hand reaches beyond the painting, where my hand meets the image, blue sparks surround my hand. Huh, I think. Hence the name Blufire. It's not painful, but it definitely tingles.

Then behind me, I hear a low growl. It sounds like Anthony's beast growl and I swivel around. "What are you doing here?" I'm excited that he's here, but puzzled, because our agreement was that I'd come to him if I found my mom. Maybe something went wrong on his end and he needed to contact me.

The beast continues growling, and charges toward me. Snarling, he licks his fangs, and pounces on top of me. His claws dig into my flesh, and pierce my skin.

"Anthony, stop! You're hurting me!" I yell.

But the beast doesn't stop. He bites hold of my clothes and drags me across the room and down the stairs. I get the sense that I've done something very wrong and shouldn't be here.

"Anthony, let me go, you're hurting me!" I cry again. Blood oozes from my arms now where his claws have pierced my flesh. In a millisecond, I realize that this beast can't possibly be Anthony. He wouldn't hurt me. "Who are you?"

The beast growls and shakes me violently. I try to minimize the shaking by grabbing onto the beast's mane, but it doesn't help, and probably only provokes the beast further.

I'm terrified. With one move, this beast could kill me, and from the looks of it, that's what it's planning on doing. Down on the ground floor again, the beast flings me across the foyer so I slam into the front door, shattering the glass on impact. The creature growls again so loudly that I have to cover my ears. My body aches and the adrenaline rages through every inch of my being. Slinking toward me again, the beast stops a few feet away. It paces the floor back and forth a few dozen times and then as quickly as it appeared, disappears up the stairwell.

My first instinct is to cry, but I can't afford to. I have to remain strong and I need to go see Anthony and tell him about this—now. I stumble out to the stable and saddle up the horse I rode earlier. Then I grab a smelly old wool blanket from one of the stalls, and race to the beach. It will be many hours before Anthony arrives, but I don't dare to wait in my room, afraid the beast will return to kill me. I tie the horse to one of the nearby trees and curl up into a ball on the sand. It takes me a while before I'm able to calm myself from what just happened, but eventually I fall asleep under the star speckled sky with tears streaming down my cheeks, the fear of dying being so real that I feel dead already.

* * *

"Sonia, wake up." I hear Anthony's voice in the back of my dream. I wake and sit up immediately, eager to share the news of my frightening night. It's still murky outside, but from the deep pinkish hue in the sky, dawn seems to be right around the corner. I'm sore all over, and as I move, the stabbing pain from where the beast's claws dug into my skin engulfs me. Rushing toward Anthony, I knock him over. We both fall into the sea with a splash and I laugh hysterically for a moment, but it's only to cover up my pain and hysteria. I become vulnerable around him and can't hold back my tears. Crying and laughing at the same time, I stagger to my feet, the salt water stinging my bleeding flesh.

"What's wrong? What happened to you? You're bleeding!" Anthony exclaims, examining my wounds.

I sob uncontrollably. "There was...another beast...like you in the castle. I thought it was you, but it wasn't. It dragged...me down the stairs and...well, first I saw the portal that looks like a mural...and then..." I can't even think straight, the fear has come rushing back now, filling my body with panic.

"Whoa, calm down, you're safe now. Just breathe," he coaches me as he draws me near, careful to avoid my injuries. "Slowly, now tell me everything that happened."

I tell him what happened and then sigh at length, feeling much better now that I've shared it with him.

"Maureen," he says, his eyes hateful. "I'm going to kill her!"

"Wait, Maureen's the beast?" That thought had never occurred to me. Now I see what Layla was trying to do when I first mentioned the beast. She was trying to protect Maureen, because Maureen transforms into the same beast as Anthony, and Layla knows about it. I wonder if Layla knows that Anthony's also one of the beasts. Probably not.

"Most likely. Although she's a Huldra, she has killed so many Darkálfars and appropriated their character traits that she must have gained the ability to shape-shift along the way."

"But if she's on the Darkálfars' side, why would she kill them?"

"She's only on their side when it suits her," Anthony says.

"Oh." Maureen's words come back to me; life is unjust—only the fittest survive. "Do you know about Layla?" I say.

"Who?"

"Layla says she's Maureen's ex-husband's daughter."

"Never heard of her," Anthony says, shaking his head.

It has probably never occurred to him that he might have a sister, and I don't think I should bring it up right now. I study my wounds. They are deep. "Maureen knows now, Anthony—she knows that I know about you and that you're the beast, and...and that you've been on the island to visit me. I said your name when she was hurting me." I wish I hadn't.

"You can't stay here another minute. You need to come with me. Let's get you back onto the mainland and then..." He pulls me gently with him, but I resist.

I release his hand. "What about my mom? I can't leave her—I won't."

"If you go back there, Maureen will imprison you," Anthony says.

"No, she won't. If that was her intent, she would have done that last night."

"She could have..."

Out from the bushes Maureen, Layla and seven other Darkálfars emerge. The Darkálfars' skin is as black as coal, but their hair is scintillating silver.

"Thank you for leading us here, Sonia. Seize them!" Maureen commands.

The Darkálfars storm toward us at once, grabbing our arms and aiming their machine guns at our backs. My arms hurt; they're squeezing my wounds, but I clench my mouth shut. I will not let out a cry.

Doesn't Maureen remember that Anthony will turn into a giant beast once his feet hit the shore? I'm not about to remind her. Layla is the one who has her machine gun pointed into Anthony's back. Maybe I still have time to try and convince Layla that she's fighting on the wrong side.

"Layla, Maureen isn't who you think she is! She's trying to steal my gift and...Anthony's your brother!" It's a desperate attempt, but it is one.

Layla's eyes remain as cold as steel. "Nice try, Sonia. Even I wouldn't fall for a stupid lie like that."

"Why else would she be imprisoning Anthony and me? We're no threat to her. We're just trying to get my mom back. Why else do you think Maureen is so interested in having me here on the island, and why am I not allowed to leave?" Before I'm able to tell Maureen that Olaf tried to steal my fifth Huldra gift, I feel a hard knock on the back of my head and blackness steals my consciousness away.

Chapter 39

I come back to myself in a cold, damp and pitch-black room. I wince from the pain in my body as I move, and then I feel a warm gentle hand stroking my brow.

"Shh—try not to move," Anthony says. "They hit your head hard."

I touch my head and find a huge, tender bump. "Where are we?" I ask, not able to see anything other than a few glimmers of light that shine through the gap between the door and the floor.

"In a cell below the castle," he says.

"My mom?" My stomach contorts. I want this all to be over, to be back at home with my mom, so I can tell her how much I love and appreciate her. This nightmare of a life I've been living lately seems only to get worse and worse and has now become completely unbearable.

"Still missing in action," he says, caressing my hair.

"Wait, how is it that you're not a beast?" I ask, now realizing he's just himself.

"Maureen...she forced something down my throat."

"Maybe an antidote of some sort?"

"Maybe." Anthony huffs.

"Are you hurt?"

"I'll be fine."

My head starts pounding violently, and I'm grateful it's dark. Sitting up, I search for Anthony's hands. "Hold me," I say, needing to be comforted by him.

He wraps his arms around me and we sit still for a while.

"How are we going to get out of here?" I ask.

Anthony chuckles. "You are wonderful, do you know that? We're in the most hopeless situation of our lives and you don't complain, you don't despair, but you ask how we can get out of here. That's why I like you so much."

I strain a smile in the darkness. "I'm just glad I have you here, or I'd be totally depressed."

"I'm glad I'm here with you too, even though the setting doesn't quite fit my liking." He pauses and shifts a little where he sits. "I told Skuld that if I didn't return by 10:00 a.m. something has gone wrong and they need to come for us. They'll come looking for me, and for you, so all isn't lost."

"When I roamed the castle at night, I never found the entrance to this place. Do you think they will find us?"

"I hope so, but I'm more worried about what Maureen has up her sleeve. She knows about the Lightálfars and may even be planning an attack on them."

"I didn't realize there were that many Darkálfars," I say. "Did you?"

"There may even be more than what we saw." Anthony sounds very worried.

"That would be bad."

"Yes, but I'd rather die here with you than fight on Maureen's side." He pauses as if thinking about something. "She stole my gift, you know."

"Your fifth gift?"

"Yes."

He doesn't say what it was, and I don't ask; he'll tell me when he's ready. I wonder if Maureen conceived Anthony just so she could get his gift. There aren't that many Huldras or Huldus in the world, so each fifth gift must be of extreme value. I don't mention it because I don't want to hurt him.

I have to get my mind off our miserable situation before it drowns me completely. I try to think of how life was back home in Sarasota. "You know the first thing I'm going to do when I get out of here?" I say. Or if we get out of here.

"What?" Anthony says.

"I'm going to call Ashley. She's probably thoroughly freaked out by now that I've dropped off the face of the planet."

Anthony chuckles. "You know what I'm going to do?"

"What?"

"Take you on a proper date."

I would normally have laughed, but I'm too stressed right now. "I'd like that very much." So much has changed over just the past few days. The seriousness of our situation starts to weigh me down again, and I can't, no matter how hard I try and resist, stop the tears from coming.

"We can get through this, Sonia—together," he says. "But seriously, will you go on a date with me?"

"I'd love to go on a date with you. Where would you take me?" I say, my voice thick, as I struggle to get the words out.

"To Hawaii," he says. "That seems like a relaxing enough place, don't you think?"

I smile a little now. "Very relaxing."

He kisses my cheek and I turn my head to the side. Our lips find each other in the dark. The only thing right in my life is Anthony—my Darkálfar.

"My fifth gift was the gift of dimensional slicing, meaning the bearer of the gift can transport from one realm or dimension to another, from anywhere," Anthony says.

That would have been an amazing ability to have, and I feel so horrible that Anthony never received that gift. "Thank you for sharing."

A key rattles on the other side of the door, and the rusty metal door opens. Bright lights blare from the outside, and for a split second, I think I see Olaf standing in the doorway.

Chapter 40

"Get the girl," Olaf says to the two Darkálfars standing behind him. The Darkálfars both have piercings all the way up their ears and several more in their faces. They're grotesquely muscular and their faces are etched with hatred and they wear black suits that look like modern Nazi uniforms. A gold dragon-faced logo with a wreath around it is attached to the left shoulder sleeve of their uniforms. It looks like the same beast Anthony and Maureen morph into.

"Leave her alone, Olaf!" Anthony stands up and takes a swing at him, but Olaf fires the pistol in his hand, shooting Anthony in the shoulder. Anthony screams and falls to the floor, blood saturating his shirt.

I hear the pain in his cry. "Anthony!" I yell. But I can't go to him; the Darkálfars have grabbed hold of me. I kick and scream, thrashing my arms and legs wildly. "You don't have to kill us because I've already decided to give you my fifth Huldra gift. Just let my mom go free and Anthony and me, and it's all yours."

"Sonia, don't you dare give him your gift," Anthony groans, holding onto his shoulder.

"Shut up, Anthony! If we're not alive, there's no benefit to me keeping my gift anyway!" I haven't really decided to give my gift away yet, but I just want my presentation to be believable enough so I can buy time. With more time, I have a better chance to find other ways to escape.

Olaf smiles and says slyly, "The young Huldra does have a point, Anthony."

"I saw you die, Olaf. What, you had to come back from the dead to plague us some more?" I can't believe I actually felt bad that Anthony killed him.

He nods and then sighs. "Well, I guess Maureen skipped the part in the Book of Huldras that explains how a Huldra can appropriate lives, or maybe you just did not have the ability to stay focused enough on the lesson to learn that part," Olaf retorts.

"Olaf, you're not as appreciated or needed here as you might think. Layla was excited when she saw that you had died, and even said you had it coming," I spew.

"I doubt that she said anything of the sort. A low blow will not get you anywhere here," Olaf says.

"Whose life did you have to steal anyway? Maureen's? Layla's?"

"Your father's," Olaf says.

It feels like a million bricks are thrown at me at once. Surely, what Olaf said can't be true. "My dad died over a year ago," I say. "You're lying."

"I am telling the truth. I took your father's pathetic life, swallowed it right up, after the car accident," Olaf says. "Now, the life-force he gave up, lives in me."

I detest the tears that emerge from my eyes, as they might look like signs of weakness to Olaf. If I had the chance to kill Olaf again, knowing he'd die for good, I'd gladly be the one to do it. I'm surprised by the hatred I have toward him, but he shot Anthony, and he claims to have taken my father's life. How did Olaf know how and when my dad died? Did he know my father? Had they been friends?

"That is none of your concern," Olaf says.

In my rage, and surprise to see that Olaf was alive, I forgot that he can read my mind. I forget too easily. "My family is my concern!" I'm so mad that I know I'd kill him given the chance.

Olaf laughs mockingly. "There is still time to become the Huldra you were meant to become. Join us, and we will overlook this one indiscretion of yours."

He thinks he's so clever, throwing my comment to him when he broke into my room back in my face. "Never!" I'd rather die.

"Dear Sonia—sweet little Huldra—you are such a disappointment. Maureen had such high hopes for you. I had such high hopes for you." I cry when he grabs the raw flesh of my arm and pulls me with him through the dark dungeon hallway.

"At least when you feel pain, you know that you are still alive." He shoves me into a room with a metal bed identical to the one I woke up on when I arrived here. The room is square and looks like a makeshift surgery room with massive rectangular light bulbs hanging from each of the four corners. There are three small tables with scalpels, tweezers, and other shiny scary-looking instruments neatly placed on top of them.

"Strap her up so she cannot move," Olaf says to the two Darkálfars. He flings me toward the table and the Darkálfars grab my arms.

"I want to talk to Maureen," I say, still struggling to pull away from the Darkálfars.

"Do you really think, mulatto girl, that Maureen will be any kinder to you? You should be glad I am here as I am far more merciful than she."

I don't care what he says. "I demand to see her immediately." The Darkálfars wrestle me onto the table and secure me with four white straps. I give them hell, determined to fight until the bitter end.

"Oh, yes, you always were a feisty one. Unruly, undisciplined, unappreciative...it is a very common problem among youths today. Millennia ago, children were well-behaved and were so much more respectful of their elders," Olaf says.

"And you were always a liar and a greedy, blood-sucking leech."

Olaf comes over and pulls my hair back so hard that my eyes burn. "I will get Maureen for you," he says, licking his lips.

"Good," I say and smile as I gasp. I'm afraid, but I'm also strong.

Olaf releases my hair. "Do you know that I hate mixed breeds like you? Maureen hates mixed breeds too and that is another reason she cannot stand Anthony. He is just a pathetic Huldu-Darkálfar mix."

"How can she hold that against him? He's her son!"

Olaf ignores my question and turns on the blinding lights, one at a time, as he paces around the metal bed. "Half breeds are so difficult to deal with. What the Helheim are you? Half something, half something else? Not really anything at all?" He stops walking. "Purity used to be important in the Huldra Dynasty, but because of your mom, the governesses changed the rules and allowed Huldras to marry humans and Lightálfars. Purity is being bred out. The bloodline of the pure Huldra is vanishing, and they are doing nothing to stop it!"

"I'm just as good as any other Huldra," I say.

Olaf leans over me, his eyes inflated with loathing. "Deep in your heart, you know that is not true," he says.

I feel the tears press against my eyes and I blink them away—I can't afford to let weakness take over. If I want to get out of here alive with Anthony, I need to remain focused, strong and calm.

"Truth cuts like a dagger, does it not? Ah, the pain of being something incomplete. It hurts like...a fiery inferno, I suppose. I would not know." Olaf smiles, his hollow cheeks look ghoulish as usual.

"I see it as having the best attributes of two species."

"Keep telling yourself that, but it will not do you any good." Olaf turns on his heels and leaves the room.

Chapter 41

A while later, the door opens again.

"Sonia? Sonia! Oh heavens, what have they done to you?" my mom says, her clothes torn and filthy and her face bruised and bloody. Her hands are tied behind her back, and one of her arms is wrapped in a white bandage. Her normally silky blonde hair is disheveled, and she's not at all the calm, beautiful and collected Hedda that I'm used to.

"Mom!" It seems like I haven't seen her in ages, even though it's only been a little over a week since she disappeared. "I was so worried about you and missed you so much." Those words don't even scratch the surface of the mountain of pain I have suffered since she went missing. She looks both physically and emotionally beat up, and it frightens me to think of all the torture she must have endured. "How did you escape?" I try to sit up, but can't because the straps hold me down. "Did they break your arm?"

"Don't worry about me, Sonia—I'm well enough. Maureen let me out and told me where you were. Look at you—you're hurt." She sees the deep puncture wounds on my arms and her eyes well up with tears.

"It's okay, Mom," I say, though my words sound anything but convincing.

"Did they torture you?"

She reaches for and grabs a scalpel from the tool table, straining because her hands are tied behind her back.

"No, just inserted some sort of tracking device into my brain when I got here." I didn't think my mom's face could become paler, but now her face goes completely white. "What is it?" Something is terribly wrong; I know my mom's expressions.

"Maureen may have implanted an explosive device into your head. She did that to one of my sisters who got away right as we got here, and her head..." She doesn't finish the sentence, but her expression is pained.

"Did they put one in your head too?" I ask, fearing the answer.

"That's not important right now. What's important is that you're safe, and that we get you out of here now. Hold this scalpel in your hand and I'll cut myself free."

I take the scalpel and hold it as firmly as I can. Containing my emotions is much harder and tears stream from the sides of my eyes down onto the table. "I was so worried about you," I cry.

My mom inches close to the table and moves her hands up and down, pressing the rope against the blade's sharp edge. "Sonia, don't worry about me. I'll be fine, and you'll be fine too."

"I couldn't stop worrying about you," I say. "That's all I've been doing since you went missing. Every second it seems like there's another thing to worry about, another way in which I, or someone I love, will die."

"Sonia, I've been through situations like this many times, and made it out fine, and we'll be fine this time, too."

I wonder what other situations she has been through and if this kind of thing is something I'll have to get used to as a Huldra. "I'm trying to decide whether or not..." I pause as a horrifying thought pops into my mind. Could this person be just another Darkálfar in disguise? "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything Sonia," my mom says, still trying to cut herself free from the rope.

"What was Dad's favorite song?"

My mom stops moving for a second but then continues to cut the rope. "Why would you ask? Oh...you want to make sure it's really me. My, you are a smart young lady. It was When Eternity Calls."

I smile and nod and let out a pathetic cry as I realize that she truly is my mom, yet not the mom I always thought she was, for she is so much stronger than I had ever realized—than I had ever appreciated. I regret not noticing sooner how wonderful she is.

"I thought I might give up my gift so we can go free," I say.

Finally her ropes are cut and her hands go free. She hovers over me, and starts frantically undoing the straps that tie me down. "No, Sonia, absolutely not. If we have to die so that Maureen doesn't get your gift, that's what we'll need to do. If she—"

"Have you had enough time to catch up?" Maureen asks, slithering into the room, her hair long, curly and auburn. I feel queasy, remembering what Anthony told me about her changing hairdo and wonder whose hair she's wearing and how that person died. A Darkálfar, wearing the same uniform as the other Darkálfars, enters the room behind Maureen, and stations himself in the corner. Though he's very tall, he isn't quite as muscular as the others. Both my mom and I grow silent.

"Now that we're all here, we can have an adult conversation and start negotiating," Maureen says.

"There will be no negotiations," my mom says. "Sonia keeps her fifth Huldra gift, or we take it with us to our graves."

"Yes," I confirm, though I don't know whether or not I completely agree with my mom because we could always appropriate my gift back at a later time as long as we were still alive, right? If we're dead, well, then there's absolutely no hope.

Maureen puts both her hands onto the metal table on either side of my feet and leans forward. "Let's start with the first negotiation. Victor," she glances at the Darkálfar, "remove Hedda and take her back to her cell. We're going to show Sonia how things work around here when she doesn't cooperate."

"No!" my mom yells. She kicks in the direction of the Darkálfar, making her arrest more difficult, but he grabs her around the torso, locking in her arms, and drags her out into the hallway. "Maureen, if you harm Sonia, I'll kill you myself!" My mom's voice fades the further away she gets.

"So, what have you decided, my darling?" Maureen skirts to my side and jabs the puncture wound in my arm.

I scream in pain, the stabbing sensation spreading through my entire upper body. "I'm never giving you my gift—never!"

"Never...is such a long time." She jabs me again, harder this time, and I scream out in agony, the pain so intense that I'm slipping in and out of consciousness.

A loud crash thunders through the hallway and footsteps approach. My mom enters the room, swings at Maureen with a vase she picked up from somewhere in the hall, hitting her in the head. Maureen drops to the ground like a ragdoll. Fumbling, my mom undoes my straps. I can't figure out how she escaped the Darkálfar, but I don't ask because we can't waste the precious little time we have to escape.

"Let's go!" She pulls me to my feet and we run into the corridor. The hallway is dim, making it harder to recognize which door is Anthony's. We bang on some doors and finally I hear Anthony's voice from behind one of them, but when I try to open it, the door is locked.

"Anthony, can you hear me?" I desperately hope he hasn't lost a lot of blood from the gunshot wound.

A small window slot in the door opens. "I'm here, and I'm...uh...fine. Sonia, don't wait for me. You need to just get out of here," he says, his eyes barely visible through the opening.

"No—" I start objecting.

"There's no time to hesitate—just do as I say. I'll find my own way. Get the horses and head for the shore—now!" Anthony yells angrily.

"What about you and what about the bomb in my head?" I scream as hysteria boils its way upward through my highly frazzled nerves. The two people I love most in this world are here with me and all our lives are in danger.

"Maureen wants your gift much more than she wants you dead, and she won't detonate the bomb until she has what she wants from you." Anthony reaches his fingers through the crack. "I'll find a way out of here and meet you soon."

"Anthony, I'm not leaving you!" I object wildly, realizing I'd rather die than desert him and leave him with Maureen and Olaf.

"Stand back," my mom says, holding a machine gun in her hand.

I move out of the way so she can open fire. "Where did you get the gun?"

"The dead Darkálfar over there." She nods her head in the cadaver's direction, aims the gun toward the door, and then shoots three rounds into the door's lock. It opens.

I run in and embrace Anthony—carefully—since we're both severely injured. "Will you be okay?" I look at his shoulder where a big splotch of blood has saturated his shirt.

"I'll be fine. To the stable!" he says, his face twisting in agony, and beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

We head for the spiral stone stairwell, and though Anthony struggles a bit up the stairs, he doesn't complain, nor does he stop to slow us down. At the top, I finally recognize where we are. We're at the very end of the hallway, past my room in the opposite direction of the foyer, but when I look back at the door, there is none, only a stone wall—a mirage. That's why I hadn't seen it before.

"The foyer's this way," I say. They follow me, constantly checking to see if anyone is chasing us. Then Layla comes running through the mirage wall we just came out of, aiming a gun at us, her expression that of disgust.

"Stop or I'll shoot!" she yells.

I pivot around to face her, but continue to back up, inching slowly toward the foyer—toward our freedom.

My mom points the machine gun at Layla, but that doesn't deter Layla from charging ahead. "Drop the gun, Hedda, or I'll kill Sonia." Without warning, Layla fires a shot, nicking my ear and I scream. She then aims the gun at my head.

My mom doesn't hesitate and flings the gun onto the ground in front at Layla's feet. Without skipping a beat, Layla strides over the weapon and continues pursuing us. "What a smart mother you have."

Anthony moves in front of me, creating a barrier between Layla's gun and me.

I don't like that he's in the line of fire, but I try to take advantage of the situation. "You wouldn't shoot your own brother, would you?" I say.

"I don't have a brother." Layla cocks her gun and fires it, shooting right past us, the bullet hitting the far wall in the foyer. "Stop talking!"

"Did you know that Anthony was born only three years after you? And during the same time Maureen was married to Anthony's father—your father?" I say, arriving in the foyer, and we stop. Anthony looks as shocked as Layla does.

"That doesn't prove anything," Layla says. "Stop where you are this instant, or I won't miss you this time!"

We stop right where the sunbeams enter in through the large window above the stairs. "It proves that Maureen lied to you about Anthony's age," I say. "He's only nineteen, not ancient like you thought, like Maureen told you. She's been lying to you about everything."

"Are you insinuating that my father cheated on Maureen with a Lightálfar, and then had me?" Layla scoffs.

"That's exactly what I'm insinuating," I say boldly, glad she has taken the bait. "You and Anthony have the same father."

"You're wrong in your assumption and you're wrong if you think you can get me to side with you on such weak claims." Layla's expression is unwavering.

"You were never one of his girls, were you? Maureen made you tell that lie to convince me that Anthony was evil." I don't know if that's true, but I know that Layla was never one of Anthony's girls, since he told me he didn't even know who she was.

Layla doesn't answer. Instead she squeezes her lips tightly together.

"There's no way we can prove any of this to you, Layla, but what if we're right?" my mom says.

"I don't care who's right. I care that I stay faithful to Maureen," Layla says, now widening her stance and securing her weapon with both hands.

"How can you not care about what is right?" I ask.

Anthony moves toward Layla, his footsteps unsure, with his hands in front of him as if he's trying to lull her into a trance.

"Stand back, or I'll shoot!" Layla's steel gaze has been replaced with uncertainty.

Anthony looks at Layla's hand. "What's that on your finger?"

"What?" Layla says, glancing fleetingly at her ring before looking back at Anthony.

"Where did you get your ring?" Anthony asks.

"That's none of your concern," Layla sneers. "Don't try to distract me—it won't work. Step away!"

"I have an exact match, and I got it from my father before he left—" Anthony holds up his finger to show her his ring.

Layla's eyes widen and she gasps, but though she's still pointing her gun at Anthony, now her aim is wavering.

"Kill Anthony, Layla! Kill Hedda!" Maureen darts into the foyer, holding her hand over her forehead, bleeding heavily from the wound my mom gave her. Two Darkálfars are right behind her, carrying machine guns. Layla steps back, refocuses the gun at Anthony, but doesn't shoot.

"Shoot them!" Maureen yells, but when Layla doesn't shoot, Maureen reaches for Layla's gun. Layla wrestles to get it back, and while they are fighting for the weapon, two shots go off.

"No!" Anthony yells, but he isn't hit and neither is my mom.

Instead, the bullets tear through my skin, piercing my chest.

Chapter 42

The gunshot wounds in my chest shriek with pain. I fall to the floor—as if in slow motion—with a thud, and though Anthony lunges toward me, trying to break my fall, he doesn't reach me in time.

"Sonia!" My mom runs to my side, her face bent in agonizing expressions.

Just then, Olaf enters the foyer. "Kill them all!" He's holding a machine gun in each arm and fires them into the ceiling, some of the bullets hitting the chandelier above my head and making the gigantic lamp jingle.

"Now the gift of Cherubo dies with Sonia!" Maureen yells.

"Cherubo?" My mom's face, already gray, goes white.

Again, I wonder what the gift of Cherubo is, but the pain in my chest overwhelms me so that I have a difficult time thinking of anything else.

Then, unexpected to all, the front doors swing open and Skuld, Mani and Ross enter, and behind them there are nine Huldras. They look like a professional female SWAT team with their assault weapons aimed and ready to fire at anyone who dares move. Their faces are painted with black and red rune symbols and they're all wearing green camouflage attire, except for Skuld who's in white and Ross and Mani who are in black.

Skuld, Ross and Mani immediately go after Maureen and Olaf, who are firing aggressively at the newcomers. I think the Huldras and Lightálfars might be wearing bulletproof vests underneath their clothes, because none of them fall to the floor when they're hit.

The room has been transformed to a whirlwind of splintering wood, smoke and screaming, harsh voices. I see heavy objects go flying through the air—the baby grand piano, vases, tables, and chairs. The Lightálfars are using their anti-gravity powers. I see beasts from the corner of my eye, ones I've never seen before. They resemble werewolves and chimeras with lion heads and snake-tails. The Darkálfars are shape-shifting.

This isn't exactly how I envisioned I'd die—lying down while everyone is fighting around me. I look into Anthony's eyes, but all I can feel is a burning, throbbing pain in my chest and I capture from the expressions in Anthony's face that he fears for my life. The room sounds like a full battlefront now with shots going off, fights in full force, and the sound of glass breaking, but I only see Anthony and I believe he only sees me.

"Anthony! Don't let me die!" I realize I'll never get to be with Anthony, never get to see where our relationship might lead, and I'll leave my mom all alone. Now she'll have no one, and my Huldra gift? I'll never receive that; it will be lost to the world.

Anthony caresses my face. "Don't leave me, Sonia, please don't leave me." I see a desperate man in front of me, one who cares for me and will do anything in his power not to lose me. "You can have my life, Sonia," Anthony says. "I'll give you my life so you can live."

"No," I say softly, my breath staggering. "That would be worse than me dying." I cough, my chest burning with each jolt. My face twists because of the intense pain and though I try to resist my body from convulsing, there's nothing I can do to control it. "Anthony, Mom—" Tears fill my eyes; fear floods my heart.

"I wanted to tell you—" Anthony says.

"What?" I say. "What? Anthony—?" I cough something up—blood. Death is but an exhale away from where I am.

"I loved you—from the moment I met you," he says.

"No," I cough. "Don't say it." Dying will only be so much worse.

"Sonia, Sonia, don't you die on me, don't you do this to me!" My mom's hands fumble across my body. I hear the same panicking tone in my mom's voice as when my dad died that horrible day on the highway when we had all been there. It's like reliving my worst nightmare, but this time, I'm the one to die. I'm the victim. I'll be the one my mom mourns for years to come.

"Can someone turn back time? Turn back the time, Skuld! Before she dies!" Anthony rises to his feet and clutches Skuld's white collar. Her gun drops to the floor as he shakes her roughly.

Skuld cradles Anthony's face between her hands and looks compassionately into his eyes. He calms down when she nods. "Let's do it now, before any more time passes."

Suddenly a flash of light blinds me and we're back to the quiet before the Huldras and the Lightálfars entered. I'm alive and well and when I check my chest, there's no blood or wound at all. Anthony is holding his ring up to show Layla and in an instant I remember what happened and what comes next so I need to act quickly before I get shot. The others certainly remember what happened too—even Maureen, Layla and Olaf.

"Shoot!" Maureen yells. When Layla doesn't shoot, Maureen grabs the gun from Layla, but this time Layla punches Maureen in the face before she's able to fire. The gun tumbles to the floor, several feet away. A Darkálfar picks it up and aims it toward us and we lift our hands up in surrender.

Just then Olaf enters the foyer. "Here we are again. What great fun to be able to kill Sonia twice! Thank you for the gift, Skuld! Now, like I said before, kill them all!" His machine guns shoot at random into the ceiling and chandelier and a slew of Darkálfars stream into the foyer, coming from behind him. It looks like they had a better chance to plan the second time.

Anthony pulls me to him and we hunch to the floor. He envelops my body in his, protecting me from the rain of bullets.

"Cease fire!" Maureen yells standing up. "Don't kill Sonia! She has the gift of Cherubo, and we must take it from her before she dies."

"I'll never give you my gift!" I spew.

"You don't have to give it to me anymore. I've found a way to extract it," Maureen says.

I look at Anthony and then my mom to see their reaction, but they look just as surprised as I am. Could it be true that she can extract my gift?

Just then the doors to the foyer fling open and the Huldras and Lightálfars storm in, just like they did before. The Darkálfars immediately open fire at the newcomers, but, again, none of them fall to the floor when they're hit.

Maureen grabs my hair, pulling me with her. "Olaf, give me a gun and follow me. You, too, Lars and Morten." Olaf throws Maureen a gun and she catches it and points it to the back of my skull. Aiming their weapons toward the Huldras, my mom, Layla and Anthony, Olaf and the two Darkálfars come after Maureen, preventing anyone from following. While Maureen drags me up the stairs, I try to look for Anthony through all the smoke and flying debris, but I don't see him anywhere. Maureen forces me up all the way to the third floor. Even up here, I hear shots going off and large objects being flung across the room, landing with a crash.

Maureen opens a French door situated to the left, pulling me with her. The room is large and square with three floral couches placed in the shape of a U around an almond-colored ottoman. The large fireplace is made of limestone and has twin dragonheads facing inward, and there are also a few tables and chairs placed throughout the room. The ceiling moldings look like vine and serpents intertwined, and the closed hunter green curtains keep the sunlight out.

Once inside with the Darkálfars, Olaf bars the door shut with a steel beam. Maureen flings me down to the marble floor, opens a copper chest, and lifts out a crystal vial containing clear liquid. Olaf points his machine guns at me, smiling triumphantly, as if he's already won the battle.

"Bring her here," Maureen demands.

The two Darkálfars each grab one of my arms and pull me to my feet. My arms burn where my wounds are and I grimace in pain.

"The elixir of death," Maureen says. "Once you drink this, you'll die, and as you die, you'll go through a phase where you're nothing but a human again, susceptible to all manner of appropriations." She smiles maliciously.

"Before Olaf died, he tried to steal my gift," I blurt out, hoping I can start an argument between them.

Olaf squeezes his lips together and looks at me, his eyeballs oozing hatred. If Maureen weren't here, I'd be worrying about him killing me right at this moment.

But Maureen doesn't even bat an eyelash. "I'm not so gullible to believe such nonsense. You'll never understand the loyalty that exists between us, for you've never experienced it. Olaf will be loyal to the end, and I'll reward him handsomely."

Olaf nods to Maureen as if he agrees with her statement.

"The gift isn't rightfully yours," I say. "It's my gift."

"I never received my fifth Huldra gift, and the gift of Cherubo was supposed to come to me, not you!"

"You are evil, and you were after my gift the whole time."

"No! You are after my gift! That's the truth!" Maureen yells.

Suddenly, I hear a loud banging noise coming from the door, and then there is a series of gunshots. "Sonia, we're coming for you!" Anthony shouts.

"Anthony!" I yell, looking in the direction of the exit.

Maureen walks over to me and squeezes my cheeks together so my lips part, trying to force the elixir down my throat. Before she does, I pull my head back and bash it against hers, right on her head wound from where my mom bashed her with the vase. Maureen screams in agony and drops the crystal vial so it shatters into hundreds of pieces on the marble floor. Red smoke rises from the fluid and smells like a mixture of smoke and blood.

"I can just end the poor Huldra's life, if it pleases you," Olaf says, eyeing Maureen.

"You should know better than to bring up such a foolish suggestion," Maureen replies, blood streaming down her face. Olaf hands her a napkin and she presses it against her wound.

"Anthony will come for me," I say.

"This door here and these walls here," Maureen points to them without taking her eyes off me, "are bullet-proof, hurricane-safe, and are reinforced with elven steel, the strongest steel in all the nine realms. Your chances of escaping are zero, so you might as well accept that you'll die today. The less you resist, the less painful it will be for you. Lay her on the couch," she instructs the Darkálfars. They throw me onto one of the couches and I scream as they pin me down, feeling my wounds reopen and blood running down my arms.

"Anthony will find a way," I say, but inwardly I panic, thinking he won't get to me soon enough.

Maureen approaches me again with a new vial in hand and pops off the crystal lid. "I had plenty of these made, just in case I needed to do this again. Initially, I didn't want to kill you, Sonia, because you could be such a great asset to me, but when I saw how ignorant and stubborn you were, I realized you could never become one of us. It's probably for the better that you die, so you don't need to live out your life without a Huldra gift of your own. I know how painful it can be, and to live without your father, and soon, without your mother, that would just be torture, wouldn't it?"

She presses the vial up against my lips, and just as she's about to tip it up to empty the elixir into my mouth, I hear a loud crash by one of the windows. Though I try to look, I can't see who has entered because they're still holding me down.

"Get him!" Maureen yells to Olaf. The distraction gives me just enough of a leeway to kick one of the Darkálfars in the chest and onto the floor. I grab the vial from Maureen with my one free hand and throw the elixir into the other Darkálfar's face, some of it splashing into his mouth. He screams, grabbing his eyes and lips as if the liquid is burning them, and he tumbles to the floor, transforming into a cloud of black smoke. When I see Anthony, relief washes over me. Anthony shoots Olaf in the leg and I sit up, grab around the back of Maureen's head and slam her head into my knee, causing her to fall to the floor unconscious.

The second Olaf falls to the floor, Anthony runs over and takes Olaf's gun from him, pointing the gun at the Darkálfar. But before Anthony can shoot, the Darkálfar vanishes into a puff of smoke. Anthony ties Olaf's hands behind his back.

Trembling, I hobble toward Anthony. Without lowering his weapon, his eyes glued on Maureen and Olaf, Anthony moves toward me. Gently, I lay my head on Anthony's chest while I wrap an aching, bleeding arm around him, careful not to touch his wounded shoulder. He takes my other hand in his and our fingers interlace, and for a moment I close my eyes and exhale slowly. His lips press against my temple and my eyes are drowned in tears.

"Thank you," I croak.

"You are my life; how could I not come for you?" he whispers while lifting his arm to wrap it around me ever so gently.

"I gave you life, wretched boy!" Maureen's voice rings through the room. Horrified, I open my eyes and see Maureen standing up, completely bald, having lost her wig, pointing a machine gun toward us. Her hands and clothes are covered with blood, and half her face is smeared with it. "This is how you reward your mother for all she has done? What made me deserve your betrayal?"

"Mother," Anthony says, releasing me, his gun quickly aimed at her head. "It's finished. Drop the weapon."

"It's not finished until I say it's finished!" she screams. "Why did you have to be such a disappointment? I gave you everything, and you turned against me!"

Anthony blinks fleetingly. "You didn't give me everything, Mother. You didn't give me love," he whispers, his voice breaking.

Her face expresses revulsion. "Love," she spews, and then she laughs. "You never did anything to earn my love."

"Love doesn't need to be earned!" I exclaim, disgusted by her comment, my heart pounding in my entire body, fearful of what damage she could cause Anthony or me.

"The lovesick fool speaks on behalf of her lover—how touching, but how tragic that Anthony never was man enough to speak for himself."

I wonder how a mother can be so cruel.

"I will not shoot you, Mother, no matter what you say, so just drop your weapon so we can—"

Maureen interrupts him before he finishes speaking. "Always so self-sacrificing. You may not have the guts that a man needs to shoot his enemy, but I don't share your weakness." She shoots several rounds into Anthony's abdomen and he falls to his knees.

Chapter 43

Anthony falls all the way down to the floor and I stoop over to him. Blood is everywhere, on his clothes, on the floor, and on his hands, but I don't know what to do to stop it from coming. He grits his teeth as his face tenses in pain.

Tears stream down my face and I collapse over him, sobbing uncontrollably because I know how much pain he's in, remembering that just a short while ago I was shot. "Why didn't you shoot Maureen?"

"I couldn't shoot my own mother, Sonia, even though..." He reaches his arm up and strokes my cheek.

Even thought he knows how evil she is. "It's because you're so good."

"No, it's because you're so stupid," Maureen interjects. "Olaf, be ready to depart through the Portal of Blufire with Sonia." Maureen undoes Olaf's hands and ties a piece of fabric around his wounded leg to stop the bleeding.

"I'd rather kill myself first than come with you," I say.

Anthony coughs, blood sputtering from his mouth, and I cup my hand over my mouth to stifle a cry. Glancing up, I see that we're only a few feet away from the door. Do I dare try and open it to let the others in? Maureen might shoot me if I do, but it's the only chance we have at surviving. I arise abruptly, run to the door and unlock it. Skuld, Mani and my mom are right there, their weapons immediately aimed toward Maureen and Olaf. Maureen shoots at my mom, but misses. Then she grabs Olaf's hand, and right as Mani's and Skuld's weapons go off, Maureen and Olaf disappear, their bodies disbursing into thin air.

"Anthony's been shot!" I yell, taking my mom's hand, dragging her with me. I kneel down beside him and take his hand in mine. "Anthony, I love you, do you hear me? I love you!" I know he doesn't have much time, and I need to get the words out before it's too late.

The sides of Anthony's lips curve softly upward at the edges and he looks at me with tears in his eyes. "I love you, too," he says.

"You should have stayed away," I say. "You shouldn't have come for me." Convulsions take over his body and I sob.

"I'd rather die than lose you. Don't you know that by now?" Sweat runs down his face and his muscles tense, quivering uncontrollably.

"Your gift—you must receive it," Anthony says, his voice straining as he gasps for air. "Just remember, all has not yet been said and done, Sonia."

I'm not sure what he means, but I intend to save his life before he loses it. "Mom, there must be something you can do!" I look at her.

My mom doesn't say anything, but her eyes expose her thoughts; She's at a loss for words, for what does one say when someone is dying?

I refuse to accept this fact, but at the same time wildly hang onto the few minutes—seconds—mere heartbeats—we might have together. Gazing into Anthony's eyes, I stroke his brow. I just want to see his face for as long as I can, for now it hits me like a mountain from the sky, that I'll never see his face again. "I love you," I whisper again and again, as I brush the tears away from my eyes every few seconds. Every tear, every second, another last moment gone—forever.

Anthony takes my hand in his, brings it to his lips, and kisses it as he closes his eyes. He exhales one last time and then he is gone.

* * *

My heart stops and I can't breathe. I look at my mom in terror, grasping for some sort of comfort in her eyes, some sign that this isn't happening, that this is just an illusion, a nightmare that will all go away the moment I wake up. When I see my mom's bottom lip quiver, and she starts to cry, I know that this isn't an illusion—not a nightmare—this is real. I wonder if this was how my mom felt when my dad died. His death was a horrible experience, one I would never want to go through again, but when I lost my dad, I somehow knew I could continue on living. Losing Anthony, however, is different. His death has shattered me.

"I'm so sorry, Sonia," my mom says, wrapping me in her arms. We cry together for a long while until I think that all my tears have dried up—but I know there are many more tears.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but Maureen and Olaf escaped through the Portal of Blufire," Ross says softly, having just entered.

Skuld also comes over to us, her white outfit smeared with blood and dirt. "The castle has been secured, but we were unable to capture any of the Darkálfars—they vanished as well. We found the other governesses in the basement and they're all alive."

I don't care about Maureen and Olaf anymore, other than maybe to have my revenge, but instead of dwelling on them, allowing them to have room in my thoughts, I allow myself to be selfish and to embrace the pain of Anthony's death. Anthony's face is lifeless, but peaceful, and I wonder where he has gone. How can such a being, so full of life, strength, vigor and love, suddenly be gone? Then, I feel a soft breeze on my cheek, and I think I hear a whisper. My eyes linger again on his face, and suddenly I notice that his features are becoming transparent.

"When a supernatural being dies, their body and spirit are removed from the realm of Midgard and are taken to Helheim," my mom says.

"No!" I grab his hand and cling to it, feeling the warmth that is still there, still embodying all that we had together. Tears fall down my face, but I no longer bother to wipe them away. With blurred vision, I keep my gaze upon his body, but soon, his hand dissolves in mine, and he's no more.

"Sonia, come," my mom say. She takes my elbow, lightly pulling it, but I resist because I don't want to leave Anthony, even if there's no body to sit by and mourn. Instead, there's only a pool of blood where his body used to lie; it's the only proof I have that Anthony was just here a moment ago.

"Sonia—we must continue, even despite ourselves, even despite—" She pauses, and then her face crumples into a thousand shades of grief. She buries her face in her hands and weeps. I rise to my feet and envelop her in my frail arms. How gruesome they are, the ties that bind us, and though I don't want to continue, somewhere in the depths of my darkness, I still see the small light of my mom's love and strength.

I reach my arm around her narrow shoulders and we walk out of the room where Anthony no longer lies. Stepping into the foyer, I see the Viking ship mural to our left—the Portal of Blufire—I'll follow Maureen to the ends of the earth and beyond to avenge Anthony.

"Does it only lead to the other portals?" I ask bitterly.

My mom thinks for a moment and her eyes narrow as if she's carefully selecting her words. "I have sworn, as a governess in the Huldra Dynasty, to never reveal all the places and realms in which the Portal of Blufire can take you," she whispers, as if quoting an oath.

Realms? Chills surge through me.

"It's forbidden," she continues, "for a Huldra to travel to the realm of Helheim, but if she hasn't been inducted into the Huldra Dynasty, it's not considered a transgression upon the law."

There's only one realm remaining, according to what Anthony said—Helheim, and that's the realm where all supernatural beings go after they die.

Chapter 44

Skuld, Ross and Mani descend the stairs with my mom and me to the second floor and there we join the Huldras and governesses in the Spanish room. Two rows of mismatched chairs have been set up, facing the mural of the woman in the flamenco dress. The Huldras sit in silence, as if waiting for us to arrive. For the most part the Huldras look unscathed, but some of them are injured and have been wrapped in bandages or dressings. Two Huldras around my mom's age, stand at the front, their clothes worn, their faces looking as if they have also been beaten. My mom gives me a kiss and joins them.

Layla is in the room too, but she's sitting on a chair removed from the group. What's she doing here? I want to kill her! I sit down between Skuld and Mani, wondering if Layla knows that Anthony just died. Looking over at her, I notice that her eyes are red and swollen. She must know, and I want her to suffer. Part of me wants to go over and talk to her, but resentment brews inside and I can't deny that I partially blame her for Anthony's death. How could she not have seen that Maureen was feeding her lie upon lie? Layla must have been smarter than to follow Maureen blindly. Then again, sometimes we're blinded from seeing what's before us because we're so frightened of the unknown.

One of the governesses at the front steps forward from the other two and speaks. "I'm pleased to report that none of the Huldras lost their lives today. Sadly, Anthony, Maureen's son, half Huldu, half Darkálfar, but nonetheless, our ally and friend, lost his life." She looks at me. "But now he's in a better place, his spirit and body transported to Helheim."

I restrain myself from breaking down at the mention of his name and try to blink away the tears, but they're coming too quickly. Skuld lifts her arm around me, which makes it all the more difficult to keep my overwhelming grief at bay.

"While trying to escape the island to get help, Rachael, our third sister, didn't make it. She sacrificed her life for us, and her loss is felt deeply. May her body and soul rest in peace in Helheim with the gods and our former friends who have gone before us. Now, let us pause for a moment of silence in Rachael and Anthony's honor." Reverence takes hold of the room and we bow our heads and close our eyes. After some time, the woman at the front lifts her head, and scans the room, her eyes shining with tears.

"Sonia, will you come here please? We haven't all had the opportunity to meet you yet." She smiles and holds her arms out to greet me.

I stand up and stumble to the front.

"My name is Esther, and I'm the eldest of the governesses." Esther looks a lot like my mom, with blonde hair and blue eyes, but her features are slightly more angular and she has a small gap between her two front teeth. She also speaks with more authority than my mom, and her voice is deeper, yet very soothing.

"This is Tirzah, the second eldest and the one who makes us laugh," she says, "and you know your mother, Hedda, the most lovely and gracious of all."

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," I say, and I'm sure that I mean it, though I can't feel it at the moment with Anthony's death still overwhelming me.

"You may have had questions about the gift you'll receive once the year is over, the gift of Cherubo?" She speaks like everything in life is normal, like losing a loved one should not disturb me, like I should be thinking forward and not back to the awful moment when Anthony died, but I can't. Numbly, I nod, to comply.

"Most of you here know what her gift is. Your gift, Sonia, means blessed, or sent by the gods," Esther says. "Your gift is just like any other Huldra gift really, and it's written in the book of Huldras that the gift of Cherubo carries with it certain responsibilities."

I don't want responsibilities now; I can't carry any more weight on my shoulders, for if I do, I'll break.

"What are those responsibilities?" my mom says, probably seeing that I can't respond in the light of all that has happened.

"We don't know, exactly, but this is what's written: Flood the earth with it, a young Huldra shall, ringing in a new dawn and a new beginning, with her superior gift." Esther stops speaking.

"Amazing, don't you think?" my mom says to me, taking my hand. I get the feeling that she doesn't want to disappoint the other governesses or reveal how I had fallen in love with a Darkálfar.

"I see." It's too much to think about all at once, yet now, maybe I understand why Maureen was pursuing my gift so aggressively. She must think that if she has it, she'll have ultimate power. "How do you know I'm supposed to receive the gift of Cherubo?"

"I, as the matriarch of the Huldras, saw it in a vision," Esther says.

I remember Maureen saying that she had seen it in a vision also, probably because she appropriated a gift, making it possible for her to have visions.

"And because your name means wisdom, what a great blessing it is that you shall receive this gift," Esther says.

I hardly see myself worthy to receive the gift and I don't care to receive it when there's so little left to live for. Considering what great challenges I've had to go through just to receive my gift, I wonder if I want it at all.

Esther turns to the others. "We must continue our search for Maureen, Olaf and the Darkálfars, for all our lives will be in danger as long as they're alive. We, the governesses, will discuss over the next day whom we shall send after them and whom will remain here to restore Wraithsong Island."

Right as she says it, I know I absolutely have to be one of the ones they send after Maureen and Olaf, and not only that, I will on my search for them, also travel to Helheim.

Esther continues. "Tomorrow we'll convene here at midday. Please see to it that you get sufficient rest, for the battle ahead of us, I fear, is much more perilous than the battle behind us."

* * *

Though we can never be fully pure in body, we can be fully pure in heart. Half black, half white, half evil, half good, we are all the same, struggling to find our path in this seemingly never-ending chasm of darkness. And may we one day reach the light we so eagerly seek, knowing that the freedom from darkness may only come when we shine our own light upon others.

Blufire - Book II

in the Desirable Creatures series

Coming Feb. 1, 2015

http://ejsquires.com

