Draugr

Seven

Seven

It was getting dark and though she had trudged through the worst parts of town, Astrid had not seen any sign of the man who had attacked her. She found if she concentrated hard, she could slow down the memory of her final moments, almost like a freeze-frame so she could pick out the details of the man: a broad face with a wild look in his pale green eyes; three deep blue claw-like tattoos over his left eye; carrot-red hair, cropped short with a scrubby beard; lips moving as he screamed for her to let go...but his pistol had been in his hand as he grabbed the purse.

It hadn't been Hiccup's fault.

As dusk fell, she drifted in and out of bars. Astrid was a financial wizard but several of her college friends and business acquaintances were lawyers and they often talked about their criminal work-including where they went to locate contacts, witnesses and suspects. So she was able to walk straight through, trying to avoid people-not because she couldn't just walk through them but as she passed through them, she saw right through them as well. And Astrid had discovered that she was mildly squeamish at inspecting the inside of people's chests and heads and brains.

But as the clock ticked round to ten, she noticed an old man, sitting in the corner of 'Fungus's Bar', a run-down haunt frequented by gang members and low-level gamblers and con men. Unusually, his mean, narrowed eyes were trailing her-and she realised with shock that he could see her. She frowned and turned to inspect him. He was about her height, skinny and scruffy with wild grey hair sticking out to the side of his head and a "Berk Raiders' cap plonked firmly on his head. His long, pointy nose wrinkled above a scrappy moustache in a sneer as he rose and walked through the people straight at her.

"Gerroutta here!" he snarled. "This is me bar. Me Fungus!"

"I-I mean no harm," she began, trying to explain. "I was just looking for..."

"GERROUT!" he roared and wave his arms wide, flinging pitchers of beer sideways and toppling over glasses of bourbon. The drunk and antsy patrons began to irritably grumble and argue with their neighbours. Shocked, Astrid backed up a pace.

"Please, I am just looking for the man who..."

Then his hands closed around the throat and though she didn't need to breathe, the shock of the attack and her human response to the grip was to choke and struggle feebly. She grabbed his wrist and saw his eyes glow very slightly. A nearby patron was shoved, hard-triggering off an immediate and ferocious bar fight. But the old man hauled her through the melee, kicking and fighting him all the way to the door, then holding in her half-in, half-out of the little place.

"THIS IS MY BAR!" he yelled. "MINE! NO MATTER I'M DEAD! MINE!" And he threw her out onto the street, shocked and shaken, feeling at her throat, even though he couldn't do her any harm. She blinked and then slowly rose to her feet, shaking her head and slowly beginning to walk back towards the house. She knew she couldn't get tired but she was feeling mentally exhausted and wanted to get home.

She didn't have a home: she was dead.

She felt an overwhelming desire to get back to the house, to see Hiccup and sit by him and just feel his presence again so she lifted her head, setting out to walk across town...when a flashing sign caught her eye.

THORSTON SPIRITUALISTS

GUARANTEED TO REACH YOUR DEARLY DEPARTED.

She sighed, head snapping round and braid slapping her cheek. The old man, Eugene, had said some spiritualists could hear ghosts-but the cynic in Astrid reminded her that most, if not all, were fakes who preyed on the vulnerability and misery of bereaved and widowed relatives. But it was the first such store she had found so she wandered in, more out of interest than hope and saw, to her surprise, that there were a large selection of older women sitting waiting, all dressed in their Sunday finery. And hanging around in corners, were a few definitely dead people. As she watched, a man of her years with long blonde dreadlocks and light brown eyes ushered a crumpled pink-swathed elderly lady into the next room.