The Circle (Hammer) - By Elfgren, Sara B.,Strandberg, Mats Page 0,76
to her seat. Nicolaus looks a bit lost standing there. His eyes wander to Anna-Karin. ‘Is it true?’ he asks. ‘Is she …’
‘She’s a witch,’ Anna-Karin says. ‘We all are.’
‘Witches,’ Nicolaus mumbles. ‘Of course. Witches.’
‘So, you claim to be the girls’ guide?’ the principal says, crossing her legs again.
‘That is my sacred duty, yes.’
‘That’s strange,’ the principal muses. ‘The prophecy says nothing about a guide. You’re an interesting phenomenon that we must examine more closely. But for now I have to ask you to keep away from the girls. From now on I am their guide and teacher.’
‘No,’ Nicolaus protests feebly. ‘No, I can’t allow that …’
‘By order of the Council I release you from your duty. You are welcome to offer any suggestions or information but, from now on, everything must go through me.’
Minoo can see that Nicolaus is struggling to understand. ‘But this isn’t an assignment,’ he manages. ‘It’s my calling.’
‘You care about the girls, don’t you?’ the principal says, with forced composure. ‘You want what’s best for them?’
‘Of course.’
‘We have knowledge and resources, Nicolaus. What can you offer?’
Nicolaus lowers his gaze. ‘Nothing,’ he mumbles. ‘Except my life.’
Minoo’s heart almost breaks.
‘I apologise.’ He gives a shallow bow and disappears into the corridor with his head lowered.
‘Nicolaus!’ Anna-Karin shouts. ‘Wait!’
The door slams shut. Minoo looks at the principal, who is completely placid. It seems to be all in a day’s work for her.
‘You must begin your training at once. We’ll determine exactly what powers you possess and how we can best make use of them.’
‘Make use of them?’ Linnéa says.
‘In the coming battle,’ the principal responds. ‘Alongside your training, the Council will intensify its research into the prophecy and do everything it can to find whoever is guilty of murdering Rebecka and Elias.’ She peers intently at them, one by one. ‘And you mustn’t, under any circumstances, experiment with your powers on your own.’
Ida stands up again. This time the chair remains upright. ‘I can’t take this any more! You can’t force me to take part. I won’t!’
The principal looks at her without batting an eyelid. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes!’
‘Then you’ll get an F in every subject.’
‘You can’t do that!’ Ida bursts out.
‘I’m the principal of this school. And I’m a witch. What do you think?’ Adriana Lopez peers unflinchingly at Ida, who sits back down. Then she turns back to the group. ‘That’s enough for today. I realise it’s a lot for you to take in. Before you leave I must ask you each to leave behind a strand of your hair in the pre-printed envelopes, and fill in this form about which magical powers you have developed. We’ll meet at nine o’clock on Saturday morning in the fairground.’
28
VANESSA IS DRUMMING her nails on the worn tabletop at Café Monique.
They dig into their pastries. God, she hates the idea of getting old. But the alternative is worse. Not getting old. Vanessa’s fingers stop. She empties another packet of sugar into her coffee. She’d had a part-time job here until last summer when Monika said she couldn’t afford to keep her on. But she still treats her to free coffee.
A glass cabinet contains piles of several-year-old gossip magazines. Perched on top of the cabinet are dusty bouquets of dried flowers. And then of course there’s Monika, with her pert dresses and perpetual frown. She’s not very nice, but Vanessa respects her because she struggles on with her café in a town where most people feel they can drink coffee at home.
Vanessa takes a sip. The coffee is lukewarm. She hears the bell tinkle and a chilly gust of wind blows through the café. Linnéa walks in and sits down opposite her.
‘Hi,’ Vanessa says.
Linnéa doesn’t answer. She smells of fresh air, and Vanessa realises it’s probably stuffy in there.
‘Do you want anything?’ Vanessa asks.
‘No.’
Linnéa’s black eyes flare, and a series of unwelcome images pops into Vanessa’s head: Linnéa’s naked skin, Jonte’s hand groping her breast.
‘Well?’ Linnéa says. ‘What did you want?’
Vanessa had prepared herself for this meeting, tried out different things to say until she had composed a whole speech in her defence. It’s not her style and now she understands why. When the time comes to deliver it, her mind is blank. ‘Sorry,’ she says.
‘For what?’
‘You know.’
‘I want to hear you say it.’
Vanessa is so embarrassed she wants to run away.
‘I just wanted to be sure that you and Wille weren’t …’