The Quarry

57

Vendela was standing tall in front of the elf stone; she could feel evil gathering in the air above her. It was almost midnight, and there were only two days left until Walpurgis Night, when dark powers gathered together. They were at their strongest now.

She had switched on her small torch and placed it in front of her on the stone, the only light in the great darkness.

The spirits and demons, the dark kin of the elves, had woken from their long winter sleep. They had emerged from the deepest caves in the old lands surrounding the Baltic Sea, flown across the wide waters and circled over the solid granite of Blå Jungfrun out in the sound before swooping in across the island, chasing the spring birds from the sky. They were looking down on this flat, narrow island, where the waves surged up over the long shores, and smiled at all the little creatures crawling around below them.

High above the alvar the spirits met to bring down more misery and death on mankind for another year.

Vendela closed her eyes.

And what could mankind do about it? Nothing, apart from lighting a few fires on Walpurgis Night, the eve of May Day. But the light of the fires soon died away, and after that all you could do was lock yourself in your house and hope that the windows would hold, and that the demons would choose some other family. But they never did. They always took those who were weakest, those who were most afraid, those who had the most locks on their doors and who prayed most fervently that they would be safe, that they would be left in peace.

Vendela raised her left hand and held it over the stone.

Her wedding ring glinted in the light of the torch. Max had bought it for her in Paris. It was difficult to remove; after ten years it had almost grown into her finger, but she managed it in the end. She held the ring up to the sky in her right hand for a few moments, then placed it carefully in one of the hollows in the stone. She looked at the ring, and knew that she would never touch it again.

Do what you like with him, she thought, but promise me that he will disappear for ever.

She closed her eyes.

More heart problems, that’s a good idea. Give him a massive heart attack, far away from any doctors.

When she opened her eyes and turned away from the elf stone she could feel the hunger and tiredness gnawing away at her stomach. She had simply rushed blindly out of the house in the middle of the night. She had to lean on the stone for support, and she stood motionless, staring at the horizon until the dizziness passed. Then she picked up the torch, pointed it at the ground ahead of her, and set off across the grass. Once she had passed the juniper bushes she lengthened her stride.

She was feeling better now. She couldn’t run in her boots, but she walked faster and faster, her footsteps drumming on the ground and the wind whistling past her ears.

Some nights I’m even more crazy than usual, she thought.

Above her she could hear the sound of huge wings.

She slunk back across the alvar and down towards the coast like a cat. The grass and the bushes didn’t even touch her.

A few hundred metres from the quarry she switched off the torch; the batteries were almost spent.

Suddenly she saw another glow along the road. Car headlights. They slid slowly past her own house and stopped outside the Mörners’ cottage. When the car’s interior light came on she could see that Per was driving, and hurried over.

He got out of the car, his movements stiff, and as Vendela approached he turned; he looked anxious at first, but relaxed when he saw who it was.

‘Vendela.’

She nodded. Without thinking about it, without the slightest hesitation, she held out her arms and went to him.

The night was suddenly warm.

Per put his arms around her, but only for a long hug.

Vendela let go of him eventually, with a deep sigh. ‘Come with me,’ she said quietly.

Per let out a long breath. ‘I can’t,’ he said.

Vendela took his hand. ‘It’s fine.’

She pulled him gently towards the door, as if the cottage were hers and not his.