The Witches at the End of the World by Chelsea Iversen

Author:Chelsea Iversen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks

Kaija

When I get back, there is a group gathered outside Erich’s house. Four or five villagers crowd around the door, peering in. I hear someone calling something from inside the house, and one of the crowd outside runs away. I look at my own house. It’s dark and quiet. Jon is in there sleeping, I know, and I can’t wait to crawl into bed next to him, to share our warmth and nestle my head underneath his arm. I imagine him grunting in playful annoyance and then grabbing me even closer, not letting me escape. I vow that I won’t escape anymore. I’m his. In fact, I think I’ll tell him in the morning about the baby. I know it’s coming, even though there’s no bump yet. We deserve to revel in the happy anticipation together anyway.

As I approach my own door, I hesitate. The commotion at Jon’s parents’ is quite lively, and it occurs to me that if I show my face for a few minutes, it will be easier to explain to Jon where I’ve been in case he asks, claim I couldn’t sleep thanks to all the noise.

I walk past my own door and make my way to his parents’, trying to see inside as I approach. The small cluster of gray-clad villagers doesn’t part for me. They hardly notice I’m there. I’m surprised to see anyone here, it being so early in the morning. They’re looking inside, concern painted on their faces, but they don’t go any closer than the threshold, where they stand crossing themselves over and over. I don’t want to be rude, so I stand back a foot or so, lifting myself on my toes to see if I can catch a glimpse of what’s going on inside. I can see the top of a woman’s head, wisps of brown and gray. It’s Mari, Jon’s mother, and she’s leaning over something. That’s when I notice a wail, low and rumbling. At first, I’m taken back to the birchwood, back to the time we speared an elk but it didn’t die right away. It called out with a sound just like this one, desperate for help and yet recognizing its fate nonetheless. The wailing is so loud, it sounds like it’s all around me, and it takes me a moment to understand that it’s coming from inside the house.

“Kirsti, oh, goodness. Where have you been?” It’s Tante Tilde, and I notice for the first time that she’s one of the people gathered outside Erich Pedersen’s doorway. The expression on her face is complicated, too complicated for me to put my finger on right now. I just want to know what’s going on. If Jon’s parents are hurt or something has happened, I should do something. I try to see past her, but Tante Tilde doesn’t move.

“Should I go get Jon?” I ask. “Has something happened?”

Her look grows in complexity, and I realize it’s fear pulling her eyes wide like that.

“Kirsti,” she says, and her voice is stern like a grandmother’s.

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