She straightened, rubbing her sore neck. As her eyes focused on her surroundings, though, a slow realization trickled over her. This wasn’t Dr. Teigland’s office. She was sitting on the toilet in the Sverdfisk. How on earth did she end up here?
Lottie peered down at herself. Her summer skirt covered her knees, and her panties were in place, but why would she have sat on a closed toilet…?
Her gaze fell to the floor, where an assortment of strange objects lay at her feet. A stub of a candle, burned down and extinguished, stood next to a red sachet. She leaned down and picked up the little cloth bag. It was embroidered with a sign that seemed similar to the runes she’d seen on Drageøy and on Eiric’s tattoos.
“Huh.”
Lottie turned it over in her hand, then pried open the drawstring top and shook the contents into her palm.
She nearly dropped them to the floor. There were bones—small, thin bones that looked like they might have once belonged to a rat, or maybe a bird. There was no skull, so she couldn’t tell, but the bones were white, cleaned of all the soft tissue. A shiver ran down her spine, and she stood, apprehension rising inside her. She carried the pouch and the bones to the bathroom sink and carefully spilled the contents on the white ceramic rim.
Bird bones, she thought, sorting through them. And some herbs—she leaned closer for a sniff but couldn’t identify individual scents.How strange. She felt in the pouch and scooped out the last object, a dark-blue crystal the size of an egg, polished to a high shine.
What in the world?
She pulled out her phone to call Eiric, but she stopped as she saw the time on her lockscreen. Seven fifteen. The social event had started at six thirty, and she was certain she left for the bathroom before seven—Mrs. Enstad was supposed to arrive by now. Leaving the weird pouch in the bathroom, she stormed out the door and onto the patio, searching for Mrs. Enstad’s familiar gray hair and her babies’ massive stroller.
They weren’t there. It wasn’t like Mrs. Enstad to be late. Lottie rushed to the group of senior villagers, and one of the men raised his hand in greeting.
“Lottie! We thought you’d left. Here, have a biscuit.”
She gazed from face to face, her heart pounding in her chest. “Did Mrs. Enstad arrive yet? Have you seen Aksel and Elise?”
Her elderly charges shook their heads, their wrinkly faces growing worried as they picked up on her agitation.
Lottie cursed and searched for Eiric’s number in her phone. She needed him, now. Whatever had happened was way beyond her, and she suspected magic was involved.
He answered on the second ring. “Lottie.”
She ignored the rush of relieved joy that coursed through her at the sound of his voice. “Hey, Eiric. Can you talk?”
“I’m driving, but I have you on the speakers.” He cleared his throat. “It’s…uh. Wow, it’s good to hear from you.”
His words sent warmth through her veins. Had he missed her as much as she’d missed him?
She shook herself, pushing away thoughts of him. “I have a problem,” she said. “I think something happened. I woke up in the bathroom with this strange pouch at my feet, and Mrs. Enstad is late delivering the kids to the restaurant.”
A moment of silence stretched between them. Then Eiric asked, “What pouch?”
“Ah.” Lottie rubbed the back of her neck, where a tension headache was building. “It’s weird. This guy touched my hand, and I felt dizzy.” She racked her fuzzy memory. “I think he came into the bathroom after me, maybe?”
Suddenly feeling cold, she hugged herself and glanced over her shoulder. The man was nowhere to be seen, but if she saw him, she could ask him what happened.
“What guy?” Eiric insisted, his voice rising. “Are you okay?”
Lottie returned to the bathroom, put the phone between her ear and shoulder and brushed the bones and the herbs into her palm. “Yeah, but I found this red baggie and a candle at my feet. It’s got a rune of some sort embroidered in it, and it was filled with bird bones and dried herbs.”
“Throw it away!”
She jumped at Eiric’s urgent command. “What?”
“Where are you?” he asked. “Are you safe?”
“What? Yes, I’m at the Sverdfisk,” she blurted out.
The sound of a car horn came over the line, followed by the revving of an engine. “I’m on my way. Take the pouch and all its contents to the kitchen and put it in a circle of salt. Lots of salt.”
Lottie gaped. “You’re not making any sense!”
