Reluctant Berserker: Isaacson Trilogy Book One

Chapter 21

News of the tragic death of Cecilia Montgomery passed quickly, as did speculation of the circumstances leading up to it. In a town such as Buffalo Gulch, where the majority of the townspeople were Berserkers, it was difficult to believe Cecilia's death could be a simple accident.

Death by baneberry was infrequent, if not altogether unheard of because everyone in town knew what baneberries looked like and the dangers to non-Berserkers if they were to consume them. Forty-five minutes after her death, Gunnar and Esmund found themselves walking into the general mercantile—the building he'd seen her exit before dying.

The store was empty, a rarity for that time of day during the week. Esmund quietly motioned for Gunnar to check the upstairs while he searched the back stock room. Floorboards creaked under his weight, marking his progress as he marched to the staircase hidden behind a yellow curtain.

Cautious steps up the stairs brought him to Mrs. Foley's living quarters. Curtains were drawn over the windows of her sitting room and kitchen area, plunging the entire floor into an eerie darkness. He could hear Esmund's footsteps downstairs, moving methodically through the storage room.

Gunnar concentrated on a muffled swishing sound of skirts dragging across floorboards. Watching the faint light streaming from beneath each closed door, he waited to see if shadows disrupted the light to denote Mrs. Foley's presence and approached one of two doors on soundless feet, pressing his ear to the wood.

Complete silence greeted him, so he quietly moved to the second door and waited to hear the swishing sound again. Twisting the cold brass knob, he pushed the door open, cringing when it gave a slight squeak of protest.

Taking several steps into the bright room, he belatedly noticed sickly sweet fumes filling the air, muddling his brain. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, warning him a split second before he heard the swish of fabric against the floor.

He commanded his body to move away from the imminent danger, but his muscles were sluggish in their response. What was wrong with him? Suddenly, horrendous pain exploded in his head, and stars blinded him with their dizzying brightness. The rug-covered floor rose to meet him, and the world went black.

An incessant ringing in Gunnar's ears awoke him sometime later, followed by intense pain radiating within his skull as he tried to move. With a grunt, he pushed himself to a sitting position, fighting the urge to vomit. The room spun crazily for several seconds, and his stomach lurched, threatening to expel its contents. Once the feelings passed, he looked around the darkened area.

Through the window, he saw the gray beginnings of twilight. Where was he? Nothing looked familiar; however, snippets of memory began to assault him and left him with unanswered questions.

Where was Esmund? Had something happened to him, too? He closed his eyes, straining to hear anything over the ringing in his ears, and for a minute, he thought he heard Ulric shout his name several times, but the sound quickly vanished.

Slowly standing, Gunnar staggered to the opened door and leaned against the wall until he was steady. What was wrong with him? Every muscle was weak and listless, and his vision wavered as he struggled to focus on the area before him. He took a deep breath and instantly regretted it.

The sickening smell still lingered in the room, although not as strong as before. It tasted bitterly foul on his tongue and caused bile to rise and burn the back of his throat.

He moved to the staircase, and half slid, half fell down each step to the main floor, crashing into the wall and railing when he finally stopped. Clean air wiped the remaining fog from his mind with sickening force.

"Esmund?" he called, rushing to the back stock room only to find Esmund not there. Where had he run off to?

A lantern hung from a hook to his right, casting the back of the long room into deep shadow. Bags of food supplies were piled high at his left, but he found nothing within that, at first glance, didn't belong in a storage room. He removed the lantern from the hook and walked to the back, stopping short when glass crunched under his boot heels.