The Shapeshifters by Stefan Spjut Page A

went back up without saying anything, thumping her feet on the stairs as she went.
    Seved rinsed out the percolator and filled it with water, and because he couldn’t find the measure he scooped up the coffee with a tablespoon. He pressed the switch with his thumb. There was some spaghetti left in the yellow plastic strainer standing in the sink on top of a pile of unwashed plates and cups. He had eaten nothing himself all day. The very thought of food made him feel nauseous. The memory of the smell of rotting meat kept threatening to well up inside him, and it made him gag.
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    The tall, heavy man stood in the door frame with his head bowed, glaring at them from behind his tinted glasses. His snow-white hair was combed in a sweaty side parting. His military-green thermal jacket was unbuttoned and the pocket flaps were creased. Hisleft hand, which was wrapped inside a grubby light-blue sleeping bag case, was pressed to his chest.
    Not until Lennart had stepped into the kitchen did Seved realise he had someone with him: a stooped man who hung back in the hallway. The top of his head was completely bald but his brown wavy hair streaked with grey fell down at the sides to join a beard that had turned white at the tip.
    Seved recognised him. Lennart had brought him once before, along with the woman in the wheelchair. But he had no idea who he was. Seved could not help staring back because the bastard was wearing Ejvor’s jacket.
    Lennart pulled out a chair, but before he sat down he thrust his hand into his jacket pocket and groped around for something. When he found what he was looking for he slung them on the table in front of Börje’s plate. Two dead mice.
    â€˜How many did you get?’ the big man said, sitting down.
    Börje put his fork on the plate and then pushed it to one side, away from the mice. He rested his elbows on the table.
    â€˜Eight, I think.’
    â€˜Eight? I said fifteen. At least fifteen is what I said.’
    â€˜They couldn’t collect any more. Didn’t have the time, they said.’
    Seved studied the shapeshifted animals. There was a wood mouse with close-set eyes like peppercorns, and a shrew that looked as if it was squeezing its eyes shut in despair.
    â€˜I never thought they’d kill them,’ he said.
    Lennart looked at the mice for a while before answering.
    â€˜They haven’t,’ he said, laying his covered hand over the wood mouse. Using the fingers of his right hand he pinched the tiny head and bent it back. The white fur at the throat parted to reveal a shiny, fleshy slit.
    â€˜You see? They’re killing each other. And I imagine these two poor little buggers are not the only ones. It’s like a battlefield in there.’
    The coarse fingers kept hold of the mouse, stroking its shiny coat, gently prodding the eyes. The thumb made its way into its mouth and felt the teeth.
    â€˜You weren’t very old.’
    His voice was tender, gentle.
    â€˜Ejvor,’ Seved said softly. ‘Have you brought her out?’
    â€˜No,’ grunted Lennart in his normal gravelly voice. ‘And unless you want to join her I advise you to leave her where she is. You don’t set foot in Hybblet, understand? Someone has tidied up in there—was it her?’
    Seved nodded.
    â€˜Well, you can damn well forget about that,’ said Lennart. ‘Stay indoors as much as possible and under no circumstances go out at night. Keep all the lights on in here. Start up the car from time to time, even if you’re not going anywhere. Keep everything the same as normal.’
    â€˜And if they call out?’ said Seved.
    â€˜Let them! Turn up the television or use earplugs or do what the hell you want. They won’t be coming in here.’
    Börje had been sitting silently, his thoughts elsewhere. But now he said:
    â€˜And how long can you guarantee that?’
    There was a pause before Lennart answered.
    â€˜It will take a