Thief Eyes - Janni Lee Simner [49]
“Of course he’s not okay, Haley.” Jared’s voice sounded like it might snap any second. “And of course he’s not home. He’s in Iceland, looking for you. Haley, where—”
“Do you have his number? No—wait.” For all I knew Jared’s call was a bit of freaky good luck that wouldn’t happen again. “I need you to call him for me. Can you do that?”
“Of course, but—”
“Call him. Please. Tell him I’m all right.” I drew a shaky breath. Whatever Dad had done, he deserved to know that much. “Tell him to tell Katrin that Ari and I are going to Hlidarendi. She’ll know why.”
“Hilda—where?”
“Hlidarendi.” I did my best to spell the name. “You’ll tell them?”
“Haley, what’s going on?”
The worry in his voice made me want to reach through the phone and hold him. But even if I could have, he probably wouldn’t have been able to see me. “Tell Dad I’m sorry I ran. Tell him—” That I forgive him. I couldn’t get the words out, because they weren’t true. “Tell him I’m on my way home, okay?”
“Are you in some sort of trouble? Should I call the police?”
“Please, Jared.”
“Okay, I’ll call your dad. Right now. Just don’t go anywhere. I’ll call you back, I promise. Keep the phone on, all right?”
I let out a breath. “Thanks, Jared.”
“God, Haley, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice. I’ve missed you so much. Don’t go anywhere—I’ll call right back. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” I said, just like always when hanging up with Jared. Only after I closed the phone did I realize my hands were shaking.
Ari took the phone, his expression unreadable. He opened it and slowly dialed. “Hey, Mom?” he said in Icelandic. He waited a moment, then shook his head. “It’s no good.”
“Jared will call them. And then he’ll call us back, if he can.” I switched back to Icelandic, too.
Ari nodded slowly. “We should keep walking.” He shoved the phone into his pocket and got to his feet, but he didn’t reach for my hand this time. I stood as well, and we walked on in awkward silence. Around us, the hillsides were bright with autumn scrub.
The road headed uphill, then flattened out, hills giving way to barren stony flats, with gray rocks scattered about and a few dead mosses clinging to the spaces between them. The wind picked up. Ari’s phone remained silent.
“It makes no sense,” I said. “Why could Jared call?”
Ari shrugged. “Clearly, the power of your true love is stronger than Muninn’s spell.”
“Don’t joke,” I snapped. What did true love even mean? It had been so good to talk to Jared, but it was good to walk by Ari’s side, too, awkwardness and all. How could both those things be true at once?
“Who says I’m joking?” Ari said. “You have a better explanation?”
Wind blew over the stones, making a mournful sound. I thought of Mom and Dad, and I scowled. “What makes you so sure there’s any such thing as true love?”
“You’ll put songwriters out of business, talking that way. Force us to find honest work.” Ari managed a strained smile. “Seriously, Haley. Of course there’s such a thing as true love.”
I kicked a stone out of the road. “Yeah, well, tell that to my mom. Or yours, for that matter.”
Ari frowned. “I didn’t say there wasn’t a lot of other crap that gets in the way.”
“Tell it to Hallgerd’s dead husbands.” I bet Gunnar thought Hallgerd loved him, too, right up until she refused him those locks of her hair.
Ari gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, there is that.”
I thought of the voices in Muninn’s mountain, of the woman whose lover ran off to Norway without her. I wondered how much true love one would find if one sifted through all the mountain’s memories—all the world’s memories.
Except Freki had said the mountain didn’t have all the world’s memories, only Iceland’s. “That’s why!” I said. “Muninn’s magic is only for Iceland. Jared’s in the States, so the spell doesn’t affect him. That has to be it! Call someone else, Ari. Call them now.”
Ari fished the phone out of his pocket and stared at it thoughtfully. “Who do you suggest I call?”
I gave him the number for Tucson’s directory assistance, because I couldn’t bear to hear a voice I knew and have that person