Chapter 6
“This is my room.” He opens the door into a space that looks like an apartment. There’s a small kitchen to the right of the entrance with a fridge, microwave and dishwasher and to the left is a comfy-looking brown microfiber sectional with a matching ottoman. The plush carpet is a deep caramel color, and the desk in the corner is made of oak. Though I don’t want to draw attention to the king sized bed through the archway on the right, I notice that it’s dressed in a navy duvet with silver and cobalt blue pillows.
“Have a seat.” Anthony gestures to the two russet leather chairs over in the intimate rotunda by the window. “I’m going to get my treasure chest,” he says a little excitedly.
I set my purse on the floor in the small rotunda and sit down on one of the chairs, feeling the soft leather under my fingertips. The room offers a perfect view of the lake, and it seems to go on for about a mile. Ducks and their young waddle their way to the water and a few swans float ever so gracefully on the rippling surface.
Anthony comes back, carrying a small wooden chest.
“Oh, it really is a treasure chest,” I say. “I didn’t expect it to actually be a treasure chest.” Norse writings cover the handmade box, vine-like plants and slithering serpents snake around the sides and the top. “It looks ancient.” My interest is piqued. I always wondered what my mom’s fascination with the Norse was all about, but now that I know I’m a Huldra, I’m becoming as fascinated as she.
“I don’t know how old it is, but the designs date back to the Viking Age.”
“Come on, you don’t believe...it would be rotten by now…” I remember what he said earlier about me and stop myself from being skeptical again. “Cool!” I say quickly.
He sets the toaster-sized chest on top of one of the soccer magazines on the glass table situated between the two seats. The chest creaks when he opens it. I really want to see what’s inside the chest and can’t help myself from glancing around its lid to get a sneak peak.
“This is what I wanted to show you. You told me you like Norse mythology, and you specifically talked about Huldras.”
He can be remarkably sweet when he wants to.
“So here you are.” Anthony lifts a scroll up, unrolls it and shows me the picture on it. It looks like an old ink drawing of a beautiful woman with flowers in her long wavy hair. The woman is wearing a thin garment, almost Greek-looking in style, and underneath the woman are some markings similar to futhark—ancient Norse symbols.
“What does it say?” I ask, sitting on the edge of my seat. I tried to learn Futhark right before my dad died, but gave it up as other things took over in my life.
“Lady of the forest,” Anthony says.
“So she’s a—Huldra?” My heart jumps into my throat because that word has a whole different meaning to me than it did just a few days ago.
“Yes.” He smiles.
“How old is the drawing?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he says, handing me the frayed scroll.
“Try me,” I say, carefully accepting it.
“All right, the numbers on the bottom say one-zero-seven-nine.”
“As in the year one thousand and seventy-nine?” I gasp.
“Yes.” He looks proud.
I don’t know if he’s pulling my leg or if he’s actually telling the truth. “How did you get your hands on this, exactly?” I wonder if my family in Minnesota also has similar types of drawings, or chests.
“My mother bought it in Norway at an auction. I’m not telling you how much she paid for it, though.”
I believe that he believes that it’s an original, but is it really authentic? “What do you know of Huldras?” I ask him carefully, curious to hear what his view of the seductive forest maidens is.
“Well, I’m not sure, but from what I’ve read, they have bark-covered backs, long animal tails, and seduce poor men into…well, pleasuring the Huldras for months on end, and if the men don’t comply, the Huldra kills them.”
I think I see him blush a little, like me. “Do you believe they actually exist?”
He looks me straight in the eyes and then says, “You’d be surprised if I told you how much I know of those creatures.”
I keep my gaze steady in his and feel a chill surge through my spine as the air thickens.
He then looks out the window and our connection is broken. “But don’t be ridiculous. They’re just a myth, like trolls and fairies.” He slumps back in his seat and crosses his right ankle just above his left knee. “Some man probably made up a lie because he was unable to stay faithful to his wife, and when she found out, he blamed it on the Huldra, saying that she had forced him into having an affair with her.”
“Do you think the wives believed it?” I ask, trying hard to steady my trembling voice.
He looks back at me again, not quite as intense this time. “Probably not fully, but they didn’t have a way to disprove it if they didn’t.” Anthony leans forward and closes the lid. There’s something about the way he moves that mesmerizes me and I can’t deny that my whole body yearns for his, but it’s more than physical yearning. I want to control him, make him do what I want, make him do what I want…to me. Even though my mom warned me and I promised not to use my flair on anyone, I find my thoughts lingering on what might happen if I did use it on him. Could I get him to kiss me? Then I feel the guilt creep in and as much as I want to, I know that it would be wrong to use my flair on him for selfish purposes.
His hand brushes across my knee and a surge of desire overwhelms me. I want to kiss him, like I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone, and for him to be mine. My Huldra side is growing stronger by the day, by the minute, especially when I’m around Anthony, but I promised my mom I wouldn’t use it, and deep down, I know I don’t want a relationship with Anthony simply because I’m controlling him. “Here,” I say, handing him back the scroll.
“You keep it for a day or two,” he says, standing up. “Show your mom; I’m sure she’ll like it.”
I stand up, too. I feel honored, yet guarded, now suspecting that he definitely wants something in return. “I don’t think I should.”
“Well, I know where you go to school, and normally you are a good girl, except for when you spit in unsuspecting, but well-deserving girls’ faces.” He grins.
I want to punch him in the arm, but he’s too far away. “You knew all along!” His comments almost make me think that he’s been watching me for a while before we ever even met. No, that would be too strange and creepy. Anthony doesn’t seem like a stalker.
“Of course I know. Principal Jenkins shares everything with me.” He looks happy with himself, as he cracks a smug little smile.
“So, is Principal Jenkins like your puppet now?” I ask.
“No, I’d never call him that.” He laughs. “Maybe a little, but we both benefit from our…agreement.”
Before I can ask him what he means, my phone buzzes in my purse and I stoop to search for it. Finding it, I check the screen and see that I missed a call from Ashley, and that it’s ten minutes until I’m supposed to meet her at the Mall to get a dress for the prom. Crap! “Well, it’s been a pleasure, Anthony, but I have another appointment I have to get to.” I don’t really want to leave, but I’ll be darned if I cancel an appointment with Ashley for she would never let me forget it.
Anthony moves up in front of me and blocks my way out of the rotunda. My immediately pulse quickens. I look up into his spellbinding eyes and have to catch my breath as blood rushes to my head. My stomach flutters like mad and I really enjoy being this close to him—only a foot away. He takes a small step toward me and now he’s standing only a few inches away. I wonder if he feels the electricity between us like I do, but it’s more than that. The way I feel about him is like the beginning of an obsession, and I’m not sure whether or not it truly is me, or even if I like it. It’s almost too intense.
“Thanks for coming. I hope—” He grows serious. “I hope we
can be great—” He steps so close to me that I can feel his breath on my face. I hold my breath, afraid, no not afraid, only anxious and excited about what might happen, and though I’m not quite sure what’s happening between us, I’m acutely aware that every particle in my body responds to him.
Then my mind starts racing when I think about how much I want him, to kiss his lips, to feel his hands on my body. Would he be worth having around for eternity? Maybe. No. Absolutely. Something takes over, and it’s not the rational part of me. The will to put on the brakes is lost in his eyes, and it’s as if the Huldra in me takes over, preventing me from having reasonable thoughts. If I leave just a hint of my saliva on him, he might want me more. It would be wrong, but I can’t stop myself now—I have to go through with it. I raise myself up onto my tiptoes and kiss him gently on the cheek, leaving a trace of wetness. I don’t expect him to react the way he does, but I can tell from his reaction that he definitely likes the kiss—a lot. He swings me around, pushes me up against the wall by my shoulders, locking me immobile, and stares into my eyes. My heart is pounding in my chest and I want him to kiss me on the lips, but instead, he leans down and kisses my collarbone. Then he kisses a trail up my neck and I lift my chin to give him space. I moan. His eyes fall upon my lips and then his fingers press against them. His breath is shallow, his lips parted, his eyes—hungry.
Releasing my shoulder and lips, he grabs my hips and presses them back and up against the wall. Then his hands continue around to my back and for a moment he hesitates, and doesn’t seem certain about what to do.
He pulls back, looks at me and then looks away. “I’m sorry, I…I don’t know what came over me,” he says and picks up the scroll on the table. “Here, I’ll walk you downstairs.” He stands to the side, waiting for me to pass.
I feel excited, disappointed, shocked even, but something has awakened in me that I’ve never felt before, and I absolutely love it.