Foretold

Ari pulled me to my feet and I offered him a quick smile before opening the door to the bathroom just enough to slide quickly through. On the mirror, the runes were thick—I’d used the entire large tube of toothpaste.

“‘In violence conceived,’” I whispered, finally focusing on the actual words now that the shock of Vanir joining my rune tempus wasn’t in my face. Digging through my exhaustion, I tried to find a memory that would explain this. My rune tempus hardly ever gave me anything useful, but this...this felt infinitely important. Probably because my churning gut was telling me this was about me and my sisters. But wrapping my mind around the horrific explanation buzzing about my subconscious couldn’t happen right now.

A noise outside the bathroom only proved that true. I shoved it aside for later, and as quietly as possible I opened drawers until I found one with towels.

But how would I explain squirting all their toothpaste into a towel?

Instead, I opened the cabinet under the sink and snatched a new toilet paper roll. I started tearing off paper and swiping the drying paste. I had to wet a lot of the paper and the streaks left on the mirror panicked me until I remembered a bottle of Windex next to the toilet paper stash.

With the Windex, it went faster. Sort of. Toilet paper left little annoying flakes. When the mirror finally sparkled, I flushed some of the paper down the toilet, then crumpled the rest as small as I could and pushed it down into the trash.

I looked at the scratches covering my face. I’d barely realized they were there because the main wound was so painful. The cold probably numbed me because I hadn’t even felt them. Running my finger along a particularly nasty cut across my forehead, I winced when it ended at the most tender spot on my head. A lump raised the skin slightly.

My hair was something else. I liked the gelled, spiky look I usually wore, but this? Looked like I’d given up shampoo altogether. Stubby tangles twisted together on my head like a nest of dirty snakes. Stubby, growth-challenged snakes.

Hard to believe Vanir wanted to kiss this.

I touched my lips, stunned again over how he’d felt. Tasted. Squirming at the memory, I pulled off my jacket, turtleneck and T-shirt. Even my plain white bra was stained from the nasty river water. But I left it on. Going braless in a thin top was so not happening.

Getting my jeans off took a lot longer. They’d stuck to my body. By the time I slid into the huge drawstring sweatpants and long white shirt, all I wanted to do was curl up on the bath rug and sleep. Shut this world out for a little while, because exhaustion tugged at my every muscle and bone, threatening to shut me down.

Glancing around the bathroom, I gathered the still-wet clothes into a ball and tiptoed into the hall. The hardwood froze my bare feet. The legs of the sweats flopped over my toes as I stood indecisive in the hall.

I heard them in the kitchen, whisper-arguing.

Holding my breath, I took a few steps closer, as silently as I could. Should have felt bad for eavesdropping, but I didn’t. I was going to have to come clean. Tell them about my mother. I couldn’t let that boy’s family deal with years of unanswered questions on top of their grief.

But...she was still my mother. Still the same woman who used to squeeze me tight and sing silly, made-up lullabies. The one who’d become so enraged by a teacher daring to hurt one of her daughters, she’d studied schoolwork right along with us so she could teach us well. There’d been good times between all the manic ones. She deserved for me to make sure I was certain before throwing her in front of the bus.

I stepped closer to the door opening, gripping the clothes so hard the wet material soaked into my borrowed clothes.

Vanir suddenly snapped in a fierce undertone. “Think about it! The raven is sacred. My birthday is two days away and she shows up now?”

“That’s just it.” Hallur’s voice was nearly a growl. “We don’t even know what’s supposed to happen on your birthday and now a boy is dead. He won’t be the first and you know it. So a distraction right now—”

“She’s a girl, not a distraction.”

The humor in the next tone let me know it was Ari. “All girls are distractions.”

There was a loud thump. Sounded like the cast again. Hallur’s anger coated his voice like molasses, making it slow, the words heavy. “The raven is a sign of war. They come to feed upon the dead.”

Vanir sighed. “So do the wolves, Hallur.”

“Yes, and the time of the wolves could be here. We’ve known this from the moment Geri and Freak followed you home as puppies. And now someone has been killed? Snow is swallowing the world? You think this is coincidence?”

“I don’t know.” Vanir’s voice, heavy with grief and indecision, burned my already roiling stomach.

“Listen, Vanir.” This from Hallur again. “Something about this girl makes the hair on my neck stand up. I want her gone.”

“I can’t.” Vanir’s voice was so low I barely heard the two words.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” Hallur’s tone turned even more fierce and guttural.

There was a long silence in the room.