I Remember You: A Ghost Story by Yrsa Sigurdardottir

Author:Yrsa Sigurdardottir [Sigurdardottir, Yrsa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781250045621
Amazon: 1250045622
Barnesnoble: 1250045622
Publisher: Minotaur Books
Published: 2014-03-25T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

The clouds all seemed to have given up at the same moment, probably from the weight of their burden; one minute everything was calm, and the next the night air was filled with heavy, gusting snow. It swallowed every sound, muting the babbling of the stream and the rush of waves at the seashore. This transformation didn’t make them feel any better, although initially it had been a definite relief to lose the surrounding sounds and the need to start in alarm every time they heard a creak in the rickety house. It didn’t help that the windows were all boarded up, meaning they were now entirely deprived of two of their five senses, making it difficult to know whether someone was outside.

“I want another cigarette.” Líf was restless, passing her index finger through the flame of a candle standing on the old dining room table where they sat. She’d found an open pack of Winstons in the kitchen and taken one, to the noisy protests of Katrín, who didn’t want to steal anything from strangers. It was bad enough that they were burning down one of the candles that stood in low copper holders here and there throughout the house, and there was an overwhelming likelihood that they would continue to do so until only the stumps were left. Their urgent need, however, might justify the thievery—unlike Líf’s smoking, a bad habit that she should long since have given up. “Do you want to go and have a look with me again?”

“No.” Katrín certainly wasn’t going to start doing Líf any favors after she’d run off and left her alone to face what was hidden around the corner of the house. In fact, nothing had happened; after making his threats, the owner of the voice had disappeared, leaving Katrín sitting there trembling to her bones in the silence of the evening, Putti next to her, until Garðar came running to her with Líf at his heels. Líf had stumbled into his arms as she fled up the path, meeting him on his way back to them with the keys. Panting and breathless, she’d told him what they’d encountered and he ran ahead immediately to find Katrín, unsure what he would encounter at the doctor’s house after hearing Líf’s description. When it became apparent that Katrín was unhurt, he strode angrily and resolutely round the corner in the hope of finally catching the delinquent child and giving him a thrashing. But there was no one there, which was no surprise to Katrín; the boy had left some minutes before and since he knew the area a thousand times better than they did, it was useless to try to go after him. Nor did the darkness offer much opportunity for heroic deeds.

“I don’t understand how we managed to forget to bring candles.” Garðar had been muttering this same sentence at regular intervals ever since Líf had set eyes on them. “I swear I must have forgotten candles even existed when we were buying supplies.

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