Thief Eyes

Iceland.

Ari began cursing in English and Icelandic both. I stared at the people piling food onto their plates. I didn’t feel like a ghost. How could anyone make the entire world forget us?

Ari stopped cursing and laughed a little. “At least if we do anything stupid now,” he said in Icelandic, “no one will know, right?”

In the distance, a gull cried out. Even if we made it back to Dad and Katrin, what if they couldn’t see us, either? What if they couldn’t remember us? What if no one could, not Jared or any of my friends at school or my grandparents or cousins? Panic rose in me. It made no difference how long we’d been gone if no one remembered us—knew us. “What are we supposed to do now?”

Ari shrugged uneasily. “Eat breakfast? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. And, well, we should eat while we can.”

I forced the panic down. Sweat beaded on my skin. My stomach rumbled, louder than before. When had I last had anything but stale jerky and chocolate malt balls? “Can ghosts even eat?” I followed Ari as he got into line behind the hikers.

Ari lifted a slice of meat off the table and tasted it. “Yeah. They can.” He grabbed a plate and bowl and piled them high.

So did I. I wondered if the dishes looked to everyone else like they were flying through the air or if maybe they disappeared when we touched them—but when I glanced around to see how people were reacting, they all just happened to be looking in other directions.

The guests found spots to eat on the blankets on the ground. So did we. “Like a picnic, yeah?” Ari said.

“A freaky little invisible earthquake picnic, sure.” I tried to laugh, but my throat tightened around the sound. I’m not panicking. I am not panicking. I sat down by Ari’s side, balancing my plate in my lap.

One of the hikers spread a newspaper out beside him. I still couldn’t read the Icelandic, but apparently 19 September was the same as in English—and the year was our year. I let out a breath and pointed. “We’ve only been gone three months,” I said. More time has passed for Hallgerd than for us.

Ari nodded slowly, and his shoulders relaxed a little. “That’s something, at least.” He dove into his food.

I forced a slice of cold lamb past my lips. It tasted amazing—once I began eating, I couldn’t stop. I devoured the lamb, a couple of hardboiled eggs, several slices of bread with some kind of pate, and even something I’d thought was yogurt but turned out to be more of the awful sour milk I’d had at the guesthouse.

We filled my backpack with more food: granola and hardboiled eggs, cheese and more lamb. I began to feel guilty—I reached into my wallet, pulled out the bills inside, and left them on the table, wedged beneath a serving platter. I had no idea whether that covered all the food we’d taken—or if anyone could even see my money—but it would have to do.

The German tourists pulled out a map. Ari looked over their shoulders. “I know where we are,” he said. “Strandir, on the coast—near Bear’s Fjord.” He gave a wry laugh. “I should feel right at home. Though I bet they just named it for Svan’s father, Bjorn. I think Svan lived around here.”

“How far are we from Reykjavik?” I asked. The tourists didn’t look up as we spoke.

“Two hundred, two hundred fifty kilometers south?”

I did the math in my head: maybe a hundred and fifty miles. Way too far to walk. “Maybe there’s a phone inside. We can call your mom from there.”

Ari nodded. Neither of us mentioned that the building wasn’t cleared as safe to enter, or that we weren’t sure Katrin would be able to hear us when we called. You couldn’t just forget your own kid, could you?

The wooden doors were propped open. Inside, the reception desk was buried in books and postcards and tourist brochures that must have fallen from the shelves behind it. Ari dug a phone out from beneath them, brought it to his ear, and frowned. “Right,” he said. “On the map, there were some towns. Holmavik is about twenty kilometers away. I think that’s our best chance for a signal.”

I nodded. That wasn’t so bad—I could run twelve miles, if I had to. I followed Ari away from the hotel. The frozen slush was melting, turning the dirt road back to mud. I felt for the coin in my pocket. The coals inside me warmed at its touch. Did the ground tremble slightly? The trembling stopped when I drew my hand away.

I’d get the coin to Katrin. With any luck—if Katrin was right, if Svan and Muninn were wrong—the land would be safe from Hallgerd’s spell after that. As for the fire in me, well, maybe Katrin would know what to do about that, too.

The few clouds burned away, leaving behind a deep blue sky that reminded me of Tucson, except the sun was too low, its light too thin. A breeze caressed my neck. I thought of the hot desert winds at home, like a dragon’s breath against my skin in summer.

The coals in me sparked hot at the thought. The ground shuddered beneath my feet. “I can give you fire.” Not Hallgerd’s voice this time—the rough voice I’d heard in the fire realm. I unzipped my jacket and threw my arms open to the wind. Cold. I like the cold. A lie—I hated the chilly winter mornings back home—but the fire in me turned merely warm again.

“You okay, Haley?” Ari reached for my hand. His palm felt cool. I wrapped my fingers around his, as if I could soak up the cold if only I held on hard enough.

With his free hand Ari fished his cell phone out of his pocket and powered it up. “Hey, we have a signal!” His grip on my hand tightened. “Oh, look, I have four hundred eighteen text messages. I’ll check them later.” He dialed one-handed.

“Hello, Mom?” Ari’s voice was strained—he was angry at his mom, too, after all. “Hello?”

He pressed redial. “Mom? Can you hear me?” Ari fell silent. Very quietly, he shut the phone and put it back into his pocket.

“Dropped call?” I asked, but I knew better.

“No.” Ari swallowed hard, cursed softly. “She couldn’t hear me. The people at the hotel, they weren’t so bad—they don’t know us. But Mom …” His voice tightened.

Katrin couldn’t help us. I stared down at our linked hands. No one could. “We’re on our own.”

“Maybe Mom will see the number. Then she’ll at least know we’re all right. I should try a text message.” Ari’s voice was bleak, though, and I knew he didn’t expect that to work, either.

Alone, alone, alone. I clutched Ari’s hand so tightly my knuckles turned white. Did Dad even remember who I was? What had he thought when I ran away and didn’t come back? The coin felt warm through my pocket. It wasn’t going to disappear just because Ari and I had turned to ghosts.

If the spell lands on you, you must cast it back again. Thorgerd, Hallgerd’s daughter, had said that in her spellbook. The means of the casting, plus other useful spells, follow.

“I think”—I drew a breath—“I think it’s up to me now. Your mom gave me a copy of her spellbook.”

“I know.” Ari stared down at our linked fingers. We reached an intersection with another dirt road, one with less mud. He turned right. “She stayed up half the night translating that thing.”

I pictured Katrin copying spell after spell that she thought might protect me. My stomach felt funny. “Your mom said to take the coin to Hlidarendi.”

“Gunnar and Hallgerd’s home, yeah. It’s maybe another hundred kilometers east of Reykjavik.”

“So two hundred miles total. Maybe a little more.”

“Pretty long walk,” Ari agreed.

“You don’t have to come.” I’d been assuming he would, but maybe that wasn’t fair. He’d already gotten into enough trouble trying to rescue me. Yet the thought of going on without him made me feel funny, too.

“Like there’s anyone else I can talk to?” Ari laughed, then stopped abruptly. “You’re serious, aren’t you? Don’t be stupid, Haley—of course I’m coming with you. We’re in this together.”

I squeezed his hand, taking comfort from the thought. No one else could hear us, but at least we could hear each other.

Ari smiled. “Maybe there’s a bus we can catch in Holmavik. I’m sure they won’t mind a couple of invisible passengers, yeah?”

“Yeah.” We can do this. Send the coin back, and figure out everything else after