The Key (49 page)

The knees of her jeans quickly become wet and cold. The rough stone surface feels sharp, presses against her knees and shins. Holding the torch at the same time as she crawls is hard; the cone of light shakes and makes the shadows leap and dance on the walls of the tunnel.

It slopes downwards and grows steadily narrower. The stone scrapes against her back and shoulders now. She presses on, despite feeling the mountain closing in around her like a gigantic fist.

She enters the fox’s mind again and glimpses a bigger space, a cave. Only a short way to go now. Only a short way.

The passage narrows even further, the walls pressing in on her body from every direction.

Anna-Karin lies down flat in the chilly wetness. A shudder runs through her. She wiggles forward. Every breath she takes seems to bounce back at her. She braces herself with feet and elbows. Carries on.

How far in is she now? It is as if she can feel every metre of rock above her. Tears fill her eyes. If she gets stuck here, the others will never find her. She isn’t sure that she’ll even be able to scream. The mountain is suffocating her.

Anna-Karin kicks out with her feet and her heels hit the stone surface above her. She wants to go back but isn’t sure she can.

Her sudden panic attack triggers her magic and it flows through her; her new strength fills every muscle, making her want to fight her way out of there, to crush the stone that is pressing against her.

She forces herself to breathe calmly and not give in. If she doesn’t stop panicking, she could end up crushing herself against the rock instead.

Moving forward is her only option.

It feels like an eternity, but finally she gets to the end of the tunnel. The fox’s eyes gleam in the light of her torch. He stands waiting for her in the cave. She crawls out and the pressure around her shoulders and ribcage lightens. Halfway out, her tracksuit jacket catches on something, but she places her hands against the edges of the opening and pushes until the material gives and she falls to the cave floor.

Anna-Karin gets up on her hands and knees, tries to catch her breath and tries not to think of having to go back up through that passage. The fox comes up to her and rubs his nose lightly against her cheek.

‘Thank you,’ she whispers.

She stands up and looks around her in the torchlight. It is a tall space, at least twice her height. As the cone of light sweeps across the walls, she thinks she detects several other dark passages opening into the mountain.

The fox pads towards something and barks loudly and shrilly. Anna-Karin follows him and her torch shows up two whitish lines against the dark rock wall. It takes a few moments for her to realise that it is a pair of old-fashioned ski poles.

She comes closer, goes down on her haunches. Other objects are piled up nearby, thrown higgledy-piggledy. Near the ski poles, she sees a teddy bear that may have been white once upon a time. Anna-Karin touches it cautiously. Its fur is stiff with dirt. She looks around and sees large, sharp pieces of lime-green plastic. It takes a little while to realise that it was once a kid’s sledge. A solitary jogging shoe lies in a puddle.

Anna-Karin picks up a ruined red wallet, opens it and extracts the half-dissolved remains of discontinued bank notes. A plastic compartment contains a photo of a man with a large, dark moustache and receding hairline.

She examines it. The paper has softened and feels almost like cotton. The man’s features are blurred but she thinks he looks vaguely familiar.

The fox’s bark echoes through the cave. Anna-Karin lets the torchlight sweep over the pile of things and sees something glint. She moves closer. It is a plastic compass. The needle is spinning

And then she hears the rustling sound.

It comes from the ski poles. From a stack of books that have swollen with damp so much that the covers are bulging. From an upside-down wicker basket. The old shoe in the puddle is moving. Black beetles are crawling over it. They form a black shiny mass covering it. One ski pole falls against the other. The books are disappearing under the crawling bodies. The mass rustles and clicks and hisses, as if in a wordless, vowel-less language.

Anna-Karin stands as if turned to stone. More beetles pour out from crevices in the cave’s walls. The teddy bear falls over, as if it’s had a few too many drinks, and vanishes under the black hordes.

Something touches Anna-Karin’s wrist. She leaps backwards and hears a squelchy, crackling sound under her shoes. She shines the torch on her legs. Beetles are creeping up her trainers; one is on its way in under her jeans. She screams and shakes her legs violently, then runs to the tunnel opening. The fox is already on his way out. She hears herself crunching beetles with every step she takes. Her skin is itching as if beetles were already all over her.

The fox is growling and barking in the tunnel. She prays that there are no more beetles in there.

The hard mountain fist is squeezing her again. She wiggles forwards, upwards, forcing herself on, on, on, until she can crawl on all fours and her breathing becomes easier. She bursts into tears and notices that there is some light on the walls, and there, there is the opening. She aims for the spot of daylight. It grows larger and larger, although it is somehow still just as far away. Until, suddenly, it is right in front of her. And she gets out on the ledge, into the sunshine.

She straightens and starts brushing herself down: her jacket, her jeans and her shoes. But there is no sign of beetles, apart from the black goo of crushed carapaces under the soles of her shoes.

The fox looks at her.

‘Come,’ she says, grabbing the rucksack and starting the descent.

Minoo stands on the lawn behind the manor house. The sun is shining on the garden, but its light seems dulled to her, as if seen through a tinted windowpane.

She has been observing the others, one by one. She can visualise the magic of each one of them quite clearly now. Not only that, but she has begun to understand what she sees. She can identify each element and read the power of the magic.

Alexander watched them silently for a while from the top of the steps into the garden. She saw his aura. It was red, like Nejla’s, and strong, but it’s not
as
powerful. Minoo would never be able to explain why, but it is so
obvious
to her that he isn’t a natural witch.

Now she observes Felix, who sits on a stone seat and stares at the lawn. His magic, which has the same green colour as Anna-Karin’s eyes, flutters like a candle flame. Whatever magic experiment he is trying out, it is clear to her that it will fail.

‘Minoo?’

The voice disturbs her. She is busy.

‘Minoo?’

She turns towards the voice. Walter stands beside her. His aura has a strong but still pleasant glow, with a dark golden sheen. He is without any doubt the strongest witch in the Council’s circle.

He looks inquisitively at her. She should reply in some way.

‘I’d like to talk to you,’ Walter says.

She looks at her hands and becomes aware of the black smoke that is whirling around them. It feels so natural to have it there; it makes everything so much cleaner and clearer and simpler. Why should she want to make it disappear?

Can
she make it disappear?

Walter puts his hand on her back, between her shoulder blades, and she becomes aware of her body again, aware that she is partly out of it.

Suddenly, she loses her focus.

The sunlight dazzles her and the blood seems to drain from her head. It feels like the sensation you get when you stand up too abruptly. Walter leans over her and looks inquiringly at her. There is the scent of his aftershave again.

‘How are you?’ he asks.

She has almost forgotten how to speak, and has to consider how to shape the word before she can pronounce it.

‘Fine,’ she says in the end.

‘Let’s go inside.’

He keeps his hand on her back as he escorts her into the manor house. It is reassuring. Minoo has never been drunk, but she suspects it might feel like this.

The gentle light in the ballroom is a relief. Cartons of juice, jugs of water and dishes stacked with sandwiches in plastic packs have been set out on a table. Walter leads her past it and through the single door through which he and the Ehrenskiöld twins entered the ballroom that morning.

There is an office next door. A large mahogany desk stands in front of the tall windows; a few low bookshelves are placed along the walls, with pictures hanging above them. A sofa, two armchairs and a low table are grouped at the far end of the room. Walter propels her over to the sofa and helps her to sit down. Her legs tingle unpleasantly, as though they’ve fallen asleep.

‘I’ll be back soon.’ He smiles. ‘Don’t faint.’

Minoo tries to focus her mind on the room. She notes that all the pictures are oil paintings showing ships. Ships at anchor in calm harbours and tossed on stormy seas; ships at war and ships silhouetted against sunsets. Minoo wonders if Walter perceives himself as a captain She isn’t quite sure where this thought comes from.

Walter comes back with a glass of juice.

‘Here you go,’ he says.

She drinks obediently, even though she detests the bitter aftertaste of grapefruit. The fruit sugar helps perk her up a little.

‘What happened?’ Walter asks. He settles down in the armchair next to the sofa.

‘I did as you told me,’ she says. ‘It was just that I found it hard to … to get back.’

She catches a glimpse of Walter’s wristwatch and realises that she has never stayed for so long inside the black smoke. And that she has never been so deeply absorbed in it, not even the time after Gustaf’s reception.

If she had been alone, would she ever have been able to pull herself back out? Or would she have stayed there, not caring to eat and drink?

She twists the glass round and round in her hands. Observes the tiny slivers of fruit stuck to its edges. The bitter taste rises in her throat. Suddenly she is afraid that she will throw up.

Walter takes the empty glass from her grip and puts it on the table.

‘Minoo,’ he says. ‘Look at me.’

Minoo meets his grey eyes.

‘Now you are afraid again,’ he says. ‘You have been hard at work and feel tired afterwards. Nothing stranger than that. But still, your first reaction is fear. Just because you have experienced something new. Something strong.’

Minoo nods.

‘It’s like all training sessions,’ Walter continues. ‘Think of what it’s like when you start running. If you stop as soon as you begin to feel tired, your fitness will never improve. You will never get better at it. It’s when you are tired and still push yourself that things begin to change.’

Minoo nods knowingly. It’s clear that Walter is keeping fit; she doesn’t want him to know that she has never gone jogging willingly in her entire life.

‘Do you really believe that I would have allowed you to carry on for all that time if I had believed it to be dangerous for you?’ he asks smilingly.

‘Oh, no, of course not.’

He leans back in the armchair with his hands in his pockets. He is so relaxed. So fearless. So much a
leader
.

‘What do you feel when you use your powers?’ he asks her.

Minoo hesitates. She has spoken with the other Chosen Ones about what she can do, but never admitted to anyone what using her magic does for her, what it makes her feel or, rather, not feel.

‘I feel free,’ she says.

The grapefruit taste is back in her mouth. She feels as though she has said something forbidden. But Walter simply looks interested.

‘Go on,’ he encourages her.

‘I’m not afraid of anything. I feel safe, untouchable.’

Walter nods.

‘Power. That is what you experience.’

Minoo instinctively wants to protest, but deep down she knows that Walter is right.

‘Not only that, but … it’s like I’m freed … from myself.’

‘Or perhaps, for once, you can be yourself,’ Walter suggests. ‘Your
true
self.’

Minoo has never thought about it in those terms.

‘Many people believe that they want power,’ Walter says. ‘But, in truth, they don’t. As soon as power is in their hands, they are at a loss about what to do with all the new possibilities that open up to them. And that scares them. I don’t think you’re like them, Minoo. You are just a well-behaved young woman, who believes that she must always please everyone. Now, I think it is time for you to find out what you want for yourself. Find out who you would be if only you let go.’

Let go
.

That was what Matilda had said just before the battle against Max in the dining area. Words that made Minoo use her powers for the first time.

‘You mustn’t allow your own development to be hampered because those around you are less advanced than you,’ Walter continues. ‘Or because you know that they will never reach your level, however hard they try. You mustn’t be so fearful of being superior. Because, to be honest, in this case you
are
superior. And that is nothing to be ashamed of. You didn’t choose this. Everyone has different aptitude.’

Minoo stares at him. Wants to contradict him. But all her arguments seem to slip out of her grasp. Does it mean that he’s right?

‘I think this has opened up several new lines of thought for you,’ he says. ‘Now, do tell me. What did you see when you observed the others?’

Minoo tries not to feel ashamed about her account of the auras, even though it sounds really odd.

‘This is wonderful,’ Walter says. ‘You will have all our technicians out of a job. Tell me, who is the strongest witch in the group? Apart from me, that is.’

Minoo must have looked startled, because he laughs.

‘Look, I prefer the truth to polite modesty. It’s more efficient. Which you, too, will come to realise, I hope.’

She smiles nervously at him.

‘Both Viktor and Nejla are really strong,’ she tells him. ‘But so are Sigrid and Clara …’ She falls silent.

‘Come on, be honest,’ Walter says.

‘I’m not quite sure how strong Felix really is,’ she admits.