Draugr by Arthur Slade

guess.”
    The bruise already appeared to be fading.
    Brand gently touched my shoulder. “You should probably tell her about how cold you’ve been.”
    â€œCold?” Althea was looking at me. “Is this true?”
    â€œYes.” I shivered. “I just can’t seem to warm up. And . . . I forgot to mention . . . I . . . uh . . . saw an image of Grandpa.”
    â€œWhat kind of image?”
    â€œWell, it was more like a feeling that he was buried.”
    â€œHmm,” she said. “Hmm. This is all making sense. I should have told you from the beginning. Yes, I should have.” She stood up. “Just wait here. There are a few things I want to show all of you.”
    Then she disappeared into the house.

17
    â€œWhat’s she doing?” Angie asked.
    We could hear Althea banging around inside, closing and opening doors, dropping things.
    â€œIt sounds like she’s remodeling the living room,” Michael said.
    â€œMy guess is Grandma’s setting something up for us.” Brand was sipping from his iced tea. “I’m not sure if I want to know what it is.”
    I sat back. The sun’s rays couldn’t even warm the top layer of my skin. I wanted to find a parka, a pile of blankets, or a roaring fire, but I knew none of these things would be enough to heat me up.
    â€œWe talked to Mom and Dad,” Michael said to me.
    â€œWhat did they say?”
    â€œThey want us to get home at once—Angie is supposed to come all the way to Missouri since her parents are still in Europe. Dad was quite upset that we couldn’t take another bus today.”
    â€œWere they upset about Grandpa too?”
    Michael nodded. “Yeah, really shaken up. Mom started crying. Dad was asking me all these questions—and I didn’t have any answers. Dad’s going to fly out here, but he can’t get away until tomorrow.”
    â€œWell, why don’t we wait till he gets here?”
    Michael shook his head. “No. He made me promise I would go home tomorrow. That all of us would go.”
    I sat back. So we would have to leave in the morning, no doubts about it. Had I run away just to delay something that was going to happen anyway?
    â€œHey,” Michael said suddenly, “did you know Dad speaks Icelandic?”
    â€œA little. I didn’t think he knew too much, though.”
    â€œHe and Althea talked for at least five minutes in Icelandic . . . I don’t think she wanted us to know what they were talking about.”
    â€œDid you understand anything they said?” I asked.
    â€œI heard them mention Thursten once,” Angie answered.
    â€œMe too,” Michael said, “and another name . . . Kormak or something. But other than that it was all noise. I couldn’t make any sense of it, other than it sounded serious.”
    â€œI’ll tell you what it was about.” Althea was standing at the door. “But not right now. Come into the house. I have a few things to show you.”
    I stood up, shaky. I was beginning to feel like I had just finished a marathon. We all made our way through the sliding door into the living room. The coffee table had three old books on it. I recognized them as the ones I had glanced at in the morning. There was also a metal vial and a huge, heavy-looking iron cross. Beside them was a pot of tea and five cups.
    â€œHave a seat,” Althea motioned and we sat down. Me on the couch beside Brand. Angie and Michael in separate chairs. I shivered. Now that I was out of the sun, I felt even colder. “All of you should drink some of that tea. Especially you, Sarah. It’ll warm you up.”
    I doubted this. I poured myself a cup, sipped it. It had a sharp taste, a tangy lemony scent. I can’t say it was good, but I felt it burst against my tongue, down my throat, and spread throughout my body as if it were entering my bloodstream and heating