Iron Wolf by Siri Pettersen

Author:Siri Pettersen [Pettersen, Siri]
Language: deu
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781646906154
Publisher: Arctis US

IRON WOLF

Juva pressed her back to the wall. Fear tightened like a band of ice around her chest. She groped for her crossbow and aimed it at the dresser, as if Gaula were going to crawl out of it. Her arm started shaking and she had to brace it against her knee.

We’ve been living with the devil.

She had been steeped in superstition and mysticism from an early age. In all its unpleasant forms and from every corner of the world—banned books, decorated skulls, plague masks, entrails in jars, dried tongues from necromancers and gruesome illustrations of blood sacrifices. But this . . .

This was the worst. A baby goat carcass with no meat left on it. A hemp sack of pale bones picked so clean they could have been ancient. She could picture the conversation with the guys around the campfire in the woods.

“What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Food scraps.”

Juva laughed. Her fear abated and became a familiar amazement that she hadn’t lost her mind. Her thoughts were jumbled in her head, small rafts on a stormy sea. Had she imagined it? Had it not happened? Had she made it happen? Had someone tricked her? One last drama from Lagalune, tailor-made to drive the devil child insane. It could be the warow, revenge for Mother’s having defied them. And now they’d made her crazy.

No! I was never the one who was crazy.

The proof was right in front of her, in an open dresser drawer. All the times she had felt her heart racing, lost her footing, and asked herself what was real . . . There was a reason for it. She had seen something she was never supposed to have seen, something her mother had tormented her about to make sure she’d forgotten it—but it was still here.

Three metallic bangs on the front door ripped Juva from her trance. Her flock of worries narrowed into one single question.

What the hell am I going to do?!

What if it was Nafraím? She was alive because she didn’t know anything. Solde had taken her place and died for it. She would never be able to hide what she knew now, and that would be the end of it.

Never let them see a weak blood reader.

For once, her mother’s teachings were welcome. Juva got up and walked out to the foyer. She set her crossbow on the stairs, lowered her shoulders, and wiped her sweaty hands off on her pants. Then she opened the door.

A boy stood outside, a little older than a typical delivery boy, and considerably better dressed.

“Mrs. Sannseyr, pardon me for disturbing you in your grief, but I represent a client whose name must remain unspoken at present. She sends her deepest condolences.”

“Thank you,” Juva replied. She tried to close the door again, but the young representative stuck his foot in the way.

“She knew your mother and would, of course, very much like to continue her relationship as a customer.”

“Convey my greetings to her and thank her, but I don’t have any customers.

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