Authors: Sara B. Elfgren & Mats Strandberg
‘The school toilets,’ Ida says. Her voice comes from just behind him.
Shiny white tiles.
‘No idea what you’re on about,’ Elias says.
Pale blue sky outside the window.
‘You went there after seeing the principal,’ Ida says. ‘And you heard a voice in your head. It made you break a mirror, take one of the shards—’
The sharp edges cutting into his hand.
‘I don’t want to talk about this!’
Blood drops on the grey-tiled floor.
‘Then the voice made you go into one of the cubicles,’ says Ida. ‘It forced you to cut—’
‘Shut up!’ Elias screams, and turns round quickly.
Everything becomes blurred again, a blur of greyness and mist.
It will soon be over, Elias. Just a little more. Then it will be over. It’ll be better like this. You’ve suffered so much
.
Black spots are dancing in front of his eyes. Footsteps approach in the corridor outside.
Forgive me
.
And Elias screams. He screams and screams as the pain burns inside now, scorching everything as he is being torn apart, as everything that is
him
is being ripped out.
Hands are gripping his shoulders and shaking him.
‘Be quiet!’ Ida’s voice says. ‘Elias, you must be quiet!’
He opens his eyes and meets Ida’s terrified ones. He looks at his forearm. The sleeve of his sweater is whole. When he pulls it up, all he can see are his old scars. But all the same he knows that …
He frees himself from Ida’s grip and wraps his arms around his body. Cannot understand how his body can feel so solid, so real.
It’s no use denying it.
He died in that school toilet.
Bled to death.
Dead
.
He catches a glimpse of a bright light and turns round.
A blinding light is piercing through the grey veils of mist.
‘What’s that?’ he asks. ‘Is that … the light at the end of the tunnel?’
Ida doesn’t reply, only pushes him towards the light.
The fog is gone.
Elias stands on ground covered in snow and lit by yellowy light from outdoor lamps.
The schoolyard. The bulky, brick-built monstrosity that is Engelsfors senior school towers against the dark sky.
‘What did you do?’ he asks Ida, who stands next to him.
‘I got us out of there.’
Elias looks at the snowy steps leading up to the front doors. The last time he walked through those doors was in late summer. It feels no longer ago than this morning.
‘How long have I been dead?’
‘Depends on when this is, doesn’t it?’ Ida says sharply.
Elias stares at her.
‘Well, excuse me for not having all the answers all the time!’ she says.
It’s weird to see her alone, without her gang. And he suddenly understands something about Ida. She hides her fear behind anger.
‘Time is, like, totally messed up when you’re dead,’ she continues, and her voice is high-pitched now. ‘Once, I was dumped in bloody ancient Greece. At least, I think it was.’
‘
Ancient Greece
?’ Elias repeats, feeling overwhelmed. ‘Did you travel back in time?’
‘I haven’t travelled,’ Ida says. ‘I’ve jumped. Back and forth, back and forth.’
‘But that’s amazing!’
‘Maybe it sounds amazing,’ Ida says. ‘But it totally sucks.’
Elias can’t take on board any more of what she says. It’s weird enough that he’s dead. And that he’s dead together with Ida Holmström.
Dead
.
He takes a few steps. His boots leave no marks in the snow. But he can feel it under his feet all the same. He bends to pick up a lump of ice.
‘There’s no point,’ Ida says. ‘Believe me.’
Elias’s hand goes straight through the lump, but when he puts his hand against the ground, he can feel the hard surface under his palm. He leaves no mark on the snow, though.
Ida sighs impatiently as he straightens up.
‘What if we simply
imagine
that we have bodies?’ he says. ‘Maybe, if we didn’t, our minds couldn’t deal with this state.’
‘All I know is that it’s as annoying as hell,’ Ida says. She might as well have been speaking about a spell of especially bad weather.
‘Don’t you find this at all fascinating?’
‘What’s so fucking fascinating?’
‘This!’ Elias throws his arms out. ‘It doesn’t just end! There is life after death! How can you
not
think it’s amazing?’
‘Maybe I’m not as easily impressed as you are!’
‘Easily impressed? Here’s the answer to one of humanity’s biggest questions and you don’t even care!’
‘Maybe it’s because I already know much more than you!’ Ida shouts. ‘Maybe it’s because I already know that there are souls and demons and guardians and fucking familiars and people who are blessed by demons! Remember the school caretaker? His name is Nicolaus and he’s a clergyman from the 1600s! He’s four hundred years old! So, no, I’m not so fucking impressed by all this crap!’
Her voice goes shrill and she stops instantly. Looks at him, her lips still slightly parted. Then her lower lip starts trembling, tears fill her eyes and trickle down her cheeks.
Elias doesn’t know what he finds more incomprehensible, what Ida just said or the fact that she is crying.
He can’t remember ever seeing her cry, not even when they were little. If Ida fell off the climbing frame, she’d kick it and call it names.
‘I’ve been so lonely,’ she sobs, speaking with her hands pressed to her face. ‘I’ve been so alone, you have no idea how lonely I’ve been. And I was so happy when I found you, but you just hate me. You
hate
me!’
She’s so different. But she’s still Ida. The teachers’ favourite. Excellent student, excellent singer in the choir. Chair of the Pupils’ Committee, active in the school’s anti-bullying programme. Ida, who always spread the filthiest rumours. Ida, who could ruin anyone’s life at will. Ida, who ruined his life.
‘Can you give me one good reason why I should
not
hate you?’
Ida lowers her hands. And stares down at the snow-covered schoolyard for what feels like an eternity.
‘No,’ she says in the end. ‘I understand why you hate me.’
It’s utterly unexpected to hear her say this. It’s impossible to believe.
‘All right,’ he says. ‘It’s all very well to say that now when we’re both stuck in some kind of limbo. But if your mates were here—’
‘They aren’t my mates any more,’ Ida interrupts. ‘As a matter of fact, I suspect they hate me as much as you do. Perhaps even more.’
She snivels.
‘A great deal has happened since you died,’ she says. ‘And I want to say … not because I think you care but …’
She glances quickly at him.
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry for … everything.’
She is ashamed. And her shame is real.
This doesn’t make his hatred disappear, nor all the memories of what she did.
But it does make a difference.
‘I can’t forgive you just like that. But it matters that you said it.’
They stand side by side in silence. The sky above them is dark. No stars in sight. There’s a distant rumble of traffic, but not a car anywhere. No human passers-by either.
Elias looks at Ida. She ought to be freezing in her thin jacket. But neither of them will ever freeze again.
Dead
.
When he was little, he used to wonder about death and dying. He tried to imagine the heaven that Mum and Dad believed in.
Later, he stopped thinking about heaven. Instead, he told himself that death was the end of everything.
At least, that’s what he hoped.
That the pain would end.
That was what he longed for each time he considered letting the razor blade cut a little deeper. That was his goal when he walked to the canal and thought of jumping in. And he would have jumped, if it hadn’t been for Linnéa turning up, grabbing hold of him and phoning his parents. She had saved his life.
Uselessly.
‘What happened to me?’ Elias says. ‘That voice in my head …’
‘That was Max,’ Ida says. ‘The maths teacher.’
‘The young one?’
He almost said ‘the hot one’, but saying that sort of thing about another guy in front of Ida goes against his every instinct.
‘Yes, him,’ Ida says. ‘He was blessed by the demons and he murdered you and took your soul. But then Minoo liberated you by breaking the blessing. And then your soul, like, flew away. And we all thought you’d passed on because Matilda said so, but it seems she lied about that as well—’
‘Slow down,’ Elias interrupts.
Ida looks impatient. Elias had almost forgotten how hopeless she is at explaining things. In school, her oral accounts were always impossible to follow. And now, Ida is the only one who can explain the mysteries of life and death to him.
‘Please, one thing at a time,’ he says. ‘
Demons
?’
Ida sighs. ‘Are you saying that you don’t remember anything from when Max kept your soul? For like, six months?’
‘No. The last thing I remember is how badly it hurt. And then everything was dark. Until you woke me.’
‘Are you absolutely sure?’ Ida says. ‘So, you don’t remember, say … your memorial assembly at school?’
‘No? Was there one?’
Does Ida look relieved? He isn’t sure.
‘Yes, there was,’ she says. ‘But I’ll start from the beginning. You see, witches and magic exist for real—’
‘
What
exists?’
‘If you’re going to interrupt me every time I say something that sounds weird, this will go on for hundreds of years,’ Ida says. ‘Just listen. I am a witch. You are a witch. We are very special witches. Two of the Chosen Ones. The Chosen Ones are supposed to stop the demons from taking over the world. There are seven of us: you, me, Vanessa Dahl, Minoo Falk Karimi, Anna-Karin Nieminen, Rebecka Mohlin and Linnéa Wallin.’
Elias stares at her. What she has said is reasonably coherent. Still, it’s no easier to understand.
‘So Linnéa has something to do with all this, too?’
‘Yes, that’s what I just said,’ Ida sighs.
‘And magic is for real?’
‘And so are witches. You and I both. We all have magic powers. Your element is wood. Your power is that you can change your appearance to look like other people.’
Elias recalls the days before his death. How he saw his reflected face change in mirrors and shop windows, and gradually became convinced that he was going mad. Was so convinced that he had to go to Jonte and buy weed to dampen down his terror.
But it wasn’t madness.
It was magic.
And just how mad does that sound?
Elias thinks.
‘OK,’ he says aloud. ‘Max … he had something to do with these … demons, right? Did he kill you, too?’
‘No. Your friend did.’
‘
Linnéa?
’
‘No,’ Ida sighs. ‘Though I’m sure she wanted to, lots of times. It was Olivia who killed me. She is a witch too and she also worked for the demons. She’s back in town now and I don’t even know if the others know. I’ve tried to warn them but I can’t.’
What if Ida is inventing all this stuff? What if she’s lying to him and everything is a sick joke; what if they’ve drugged him or if he’s drugged himself and this is a psychosis …
But he recognises this as just his usual paranoia. She is telling him the truth. And this is really happening.
‘I don’t know if this is the right time to tell you,’ Ida says. ‘But Olivia killed your parents as well.’
Elias recalls Olivia as he knew her. Her round, slightly childish face and large brown eyes. Olivia, who always wanted to listen to the same music as he did; who dyed her hair blue because he mentioned once that he thought it looked good on girls.
He tries to imagine Olivia as a murderer. It is just as difficult as imagining his parents dead. Murdered by Olivia.
‘I don’t get it,’ he says. ‘Why would Olivia want to kill my parents?’
‘It’s complicated but, basically, your parents were evil too. I’m sorry, but they were. And I can guess at how that makes you feel. Mine aren’t exactly wonderful either, but I still love them.’
A fox runs across the schoolyard and disappears behind a ploughed-up pile of snow.
‘You can’t help it,’ Ida says quietly. ‘Even when you aren’t so sure that they love you back.’
Mum. Dad. He did love them. He did.
Did they love him? They said so, but they made him feel as if he constantly disappointed them. As if they always hoped he could become someone else, someone better. Someone more like them.
At times, he felt that they only loved the son they imagined that they
might
have had.
‘Have you seen my parents?’ he says. ‘I mean, in that grey place where we met?’
‘The Borderland,’ Ida says. ‘No. I don’t think we are meant to be there either. I think we’ve got stuck there. Other souls pass on.’
‘Pass on to where?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t think anyone knows that.’
Elias looks at the school.
It has gone. Disappeared.
He blinks. Looks away, then turns back to the school.
All he can see is a large, dark rectangle in the snow. As if a giant has removed the entire building.
‘Ida …’
Ida looks in the same direction. She seems startled, though not as startled as she should be.
‘Can you explain this?’ Elias asks.
‘No,’ she says. ‘But I’m not exactly surprised.’
They hear footsteps from behind them coming nearer and Elias turns around.
Two people come walking along, a man and a woman. Both are leaving tracks in the snow. So they are not dead. The man might be in his fifties. His hair is turning grey. He is wearing a dark grey coat and a stylish black scarf. He is looking at the building-free site with interest. The woman is in her early twenties, and is wearing a red, old-fashioned coat and a matching beret. Her curly blonde hair reaches her shoulders. She is almost absurdly pretty.
Little Red Riding Hood out for a stroll with the Wolf, Elias thinks as he watches them. They stop near the gates.
‘The air element,’ the man says as he looks towards the vanished building. His breath turns into vapour clouds as he speaks. ‘Exactly what you predicted, Sigrid,’ the man continues. ‘I’m impressed. Your clairvoyance has developed in leaps and bounds during these weeks.’