Thief Eyes - Janni Lee Simner [47]
One of the hikers spread a newspaper out beside him. I still couldn’t read the Icelandic, but apparently 19 September was the same as in English—and the year was our year. I let out a breath and pointed. “We’ve only been gone three months,” I said. More time has passed for Hallgerd than for us.
Ari nodded slowly, and his shoulders relaxed a little. “That’s something, at least.” He dove into his food.
I forced a slice of cold lamb past my lips. It tasted amazing—once I began eating, I couldn’t stop. I devoured the lamb, a couple of hardboiled eggs, several slices of bread with some kind of pâté, and even something I’d thought was yogurt but turned out to be more of the awful sour milk I’d had at the guesthouse.
We filled my backpack with more food: granola and hardboiled eggs, cheese and more lamb. I began to feel guilty—I reached into my wallet, pulled out the bills inside, and left them on the table, wedged beneath a serving platter. I had no idea whether that covered all the food we’d taken—or if anyone could even see my money—but it would have to do.
The German tourists pulled out a map. Ari looked over their shoulders. “I know where we are,” he said. “Strandir, on the coast—near Bear’s Fjord.” He gave a wry laugh. “I should feel right at home. Though I bet they just named it for Svan’s father, Bjorn. I think Svan lived around here.”
“How far are we from Reykjavik?” I asked. The tourists didn’t look up as we spoke.
“Two hundred, two hundred fifty kilometers south?”
I did the math in my head: maybe a hundred and fifty miles. Way too far to walk. “Maybe there’s a phone inside. We can call your mom from there.”
Ari nodded. Neither of us mentioned that the building wasn’t cleared as safe to enter, or that we weren’t sure Katrin would be able to hear us when we called. You couldn’t just forget your own kid, could you?
The wooden doors were propped open. Inside, the reception desk was buried in books and postcards and tourist brochures that must have fallen from the shelves behind it. Ari dug a phone out from beneath them, brought it to his ear, and frowned. “Right,” he said. “On the map, there were some towns. Holmavik is about twenty kilometers away. I think that’s our best chance for a signal.”
I nodded. That wasn’t so bad—I could run twelve miles, if I had to. I followed Ari away from the hotel. The frozen slush was melting, turning the dirt road back to mud. I felt for the coin in my pocket. The coals inside me warmed at its touch. Did the ground tremble slightly? The trembling stopped when I drew my hand away.
I’d get the coin to Katrin. With any luck—if Katrin was right, if Svan and Muninn were wrong—the land would be safe from Hallgerd’s spell after that. As for the fire in me, well, maybe Katrin would know what to do about that, too.
The few clouds burned away, leaving behind a deep blue sky that reminded me of Tucson, except the sun was too low, its light too thin. A breeze caressed my neck. I thought of the hot desert winds at home, like a dragon’s breath against my skin in summer.
The coals in me sparked hot at the thought. The ground shuddered beneath my feet. “I can give you fire.” Not Hallgerd’s voice this time—the rough voice I’d heard in the fire realm. I unzipped my jacket and threw my arms open to the wind. Cold. I like the cold. A lie—I hated the chilly winter mornings back home—but the fire in me turned merely warm again.
“You okay, Haley?” Ari reached for my hand. His palm felt cool. I wrapped my fingers around his, as if I could soak up the cold if only I held on hard enough.
With his free hand Ari fished his cell phone out of his pocket and powered it up. “Hey, we have a signal!” His grip on my hand tightened. “Oh, look, I have four hundred eighteen text messages. I’ll check them later.” He dialed one-handed.
“Hello, Mom?” Ari’s voice was strained—he was angry at his mom, too, after all. “Hello?”
He pressed redial. “Mom? Can you hear me?” Ari fell