The Circle (Hammer) - By Elfgren, Sara B.,Strandberg, Mats Page 0,153
moment all autumn and winter. They’ve practised and prepared themselves. Now the waiting is over. When Minoo looks at the others, she wonders if any of them is ready to meet Max, who had already killed two of them.
‘You know what I think?’ Linnéa says. ‘People like him shouldn’t be allowed to live. He’s made his choice.’
‘I agree,’ Ida says.
‘He’s a human being,’ Nicolaus says.
‘Exactly,’ Linnéa says. ‘He’s just a human being. It must be possible to kill him, even if he is blessed by demons.’
‘“Thou shalt not kill,”’ Nicolaus reminds her.
‘“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,”’ Linnéa retorts.
‘Can we skip the Bible quotes please? We can’t kill him,’ Minoo says.
‘You have no right to speak on this issue,’ Linnéa says. ‘You’ve got feelings for him.’
Minoo is about to protest when Anna-Karin stands up and glares at Linnéa. ‘I’ll never agree to kill anyone,’ she says. ‘We can’t cross that line.’
‘Two for, two against,’ Linnéa says. ‘It’s up to you, Vanessa.’
It’s absurd, Minoo thinks. We’re sitting here voting on whether or not to kill someone.
‘I agree with Anna-Karin,’ Vanessa says.
Linnéa stares at the table.
‘That’s it, then. There’s no more to say.’
‘Oh, how lovely it is that we’re all friends again,’ Ida says sarcastically. ‘Am I the only one who still hasn’t got over the fact that Minoo was fooling around with a teacher?’
Suddenly Cat gives a drawn-out miaow and bolts into the living room like a bat out of hell.
Ida’s head drops forward as if she’s caught sight of something interesting on her stomach.
A charged sensation rushes through Minoo. She recognises it from the night at the fairground. The night when they all learnt their destiny.
Ida’s chair slides slowly out from the table with a scraping, squeaking sound. Its feet leave long marks in the wooden floor.
It’s deathly silent. Everyone looks at Ida.
The chair stops abruptly. Ida’s breath is a barely discernible cloud of smoke. And then she starts growing … taller?
No, Minoo realises. The chair is levitating.
‘She’s back,’ Nicolaus mumbles.
Ida’s head lifts and she looks at them with wildly dilated pupils. A thin dribble of ectoplasm runs from the corner of her mouth. ‘My daughters, I’m happy to see you,’ she says, in the warm, gentle voice that isn’t hers. ‘But you still don’t trust each other. If you’re going to prevail, you must trust each other implicitly.’
She looks at them one by one, and Minoo sees her gaze linger on Linnéa.
‘You must face your enemy together. You must stand united. Only then can you defeat him. The Circle is the answer. The Circle is the weapon.’
‘You must give them something more!’ Nicolaus says. He goes to Ida. His hand is reaching out as if he wants to touch her but doesn’t dare.
Ida meets his gaze. ‘That’s all I can give,’ she answers. ‘And that’s all you need.’
‘Who are you?’ Minoo asks. ‘Are you the witch from the seventeenth century?’
Ida looks at her. ‘Yes. But there’s no time for more questions now,’ she answers, as her voice continues inside Minoo’s head: Let go.
Ida looks straight at her with her huge pupils.
That is the key to everything, Minoo. Let go.
A faint smell of smoke wafts through the room.
55
THE OTHER BED in Grandpa’s room at the hospital is now empty and tightly made up. They’re alone, Anna-Karin, her mother and Grandpa.
My family, Anna-Karin thinks.
Her mother’s fingers drum on the metal frame of Grandpa’s bed. It’s obvious that she needs to go out for another cigarette. She’s already complained that there are no smoking rooms in the hospital. Not even a balcony. They expect you to trek all the way to the front entrance before you can light up.
Anna-Karin stares at her short, stubby fingers, which still show signs of scalding. Suddenly the fingers are still.
Briefly Anna-Karin thinks she has inadvertently forced her mother to stop. She glances nervously at her face, which looks normal. Anna-Karin can’t take her eyes off her. This may be the last time they see each other. There’s a good chance that Anna-Karin won’t survive the night.
Her mother shifts impatiently. ‘What’s with you?’ she asks.
‘Nothing.’
‘Well, I’m going for a cigarette,’ her mother says, and stands up.
Once she’s disappeared, Grandpa opens his eyes. He smiles at Anna-Karin. ‘Gerda? Is that you?’ he asks. A tear rolls down her cheek, Grandma Gerda died years ago.
‘No, Grandpa. It’s me. Anna-Karin. Your granddaughter.’
He seems not to hear her. Instead he gestures feebly for her to come closer. She leans down to him. Grandpa looks at her probingly.