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.
Interested despite herself, Astrid followed, walking through the wall with ease to see a simple square occasional table with a lacy tablecloth with two chairs in the middle of a small brown-painted room. The carpet was old fashioned with a busy pattern and had clearly seen too many days, for it was faded and scuffed, though clean. The young man was leering, his long face looking mildly surprised.
"Mrs Forsberg-you're back again?" the young man said loudly. "FANCY SEEING YOU HERE!" The elderly woman blinked.
"My hearing aid is working quite well today, Mr Thorston," she said in an offended voice. "Forty dollars, as before?" He swiftly relieved her of the money and indicated to her seat. Then, dramatically, he waved an incense stick around, making moaning noises.
"We call upon the door-ward of Asgard, upon Heimdallr to grant us sight!" he yelled. "Let my sister come forth and the spirits grace us!"
There was a rattle at the door in the opposing wall...then a pause...and then the door rattled and burst open with a young woman who almost looked exactly like an only slightly feminine version of the young man. Her long blonde hair was in three long braids, her pale grey-blue eyes were annoyed and she almost tripped over her long khaki kaftan. Seeing the shocked elderly woman, she immediately resumed her act, lifting her chin and adopting an otherworldly expression.
"I have been summoned by the spirits..." she said in an effusive voice. She sat as gracefully as she could manage and rested her hands flat on the table. There was a pause and she stamped on the floor once. The man jumped and held his arms out wide.
"My sister-the conduit of the other side, who can pass through the guard of the Valkyries and penetrate Valhalla itself, my sister who can see as far as Heimdallr...seer of the Valkyries...Ruffnut Thorston! Be quiet, Mrs Forsberg and wait for her to make contact."
"Mrs Forsberg-I am Ruffnut Thorston. We are trying to reach Halvard today, aren't we?" The woman nodded urgently and she was motioned to a padded old seat. Ruffnut smiled reassuringly-which just looked like a leer, to Astrid's sceptical eye. She folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes. "I feel strongly that the spirits are close today...but there's no telling about that other world. I can try my best, but if they don't wish to come...well, you've got to be a believer. Are you a believer, Mrs Forsberg?" The old woman nodded so fiercely that her Sunday best hat almost fell off.
"Yes, yes...I truly believe!" she said eagerly. The supposed spiritualist closed her eyes and threw her head from side to side. She gave a groan as her brother gave a few atmospheric moans.
"No, it's too difficult to penetrate the barrier, it's too trying...wait...did your husband know someone named...Greta?" The female Thorston opened one eye slightly-to see Mrs Forsberg look shocked and puzzled.
"No, we don't know any..." she mumbled in a confused voice.
"Lisbeth? Marit? Vigdis? Bente...?" Ruffnut continued, a little more desperately. Astrid scowled: she could spot a liar when she saw one.
"Bente? Why...that was his Momma!" Ruffnut sagged in relief at the old woman's word and smiled fakely.
"Praise Odin!" she said enthusiastically. "I knew it. He's safe and with his momma!" There was a pause and Mrs Forsberg stared at her with a little uncertainty.
"Really?" she said suspiciously. "They never really got on after we married..." Ruffnut half-opened an eye and saw her client beginning to pull back. She thrashed in the chair, her head snapping from side to side.
"No-no...it's too difficult, I-I can't..." she said, frowning. "They're pulling away..." But Mrs Forsberg was determined and she leaned forward.
"I'll pay more!" she said urgently, reaching into her purse. "Another hundred...please keep trying..." Astrid stared around the room. To her apparently expert eye, it was completely devoid of any other ghosts. Wherever he was and whatever he was up to, Halvard Forsberg was not here. She snorted.
"Way to milk her for every penny!" she scoffed and Ruffnut opened her eyes to look around in suspicion, frowning.
"Huh?" Then she visibly shook herself before taking a breath and resuming her persona. "The spirits are coming...I feel his presence...he's here..." Mrs Forsberg's lined face lit with joy.
"Ooh! Halvard! My Viking raider!" she exclaimed and the watching Astrid felt a pang of sympathy. It was clear that she missed her late husband...and this pair were preying on that loneliness. Ruffnut was watching her through her eyelashes and she gestured exuberantly with her hand.
"He's right there beside you, Mrs Forsberg," she said and the old woman's head snapped round to the empty space where Astrid was 100% sure her husband wasn't. Ruffnut grinned. "And...oooh...you didn't mention that he's a handsome man..." she purred.
There was an awkward pause and the old woman looked suspiciously at the supposed spiritualist. It was clear that whatever he had been before he died, handsome wasn't one of Halvard Forsberg's qualities.
"Handsome? Are you sure?" the old woman asked. There was a flurry of worried looks between the siblings and Ruffnut leered more.
"Everyone looks handsome and...heroic in Valhalla!" she said swiftly.
"Good one, sis," the male muttered under his breath. Mrs Forsberg was too excited to notice, turning to the empty space and clasping her white-gloved hands excitedly.
"Oooh, Halvard," she cooed. "My personal pillager..." The unseen Astrid pulled a face.
"He is here..." the female Thorston repeated, her eyes sparkling. "Ask whatever questions you wish to his spirit..."
"What a crock of...there's no one here!" Astrid snorted, glaring at the fake.
The effect was instantaneous. Ruff's head snapped up and her eyes peered suspiciously around the room, as if seeking the source of the words. "Who's saying that?" she growled under her breath. Astrid stared at her and took a step closer.
"Wait-you can hear me?" she asked, astonished. Ruff shook her head, sending a glare at her brother, who just shrugged, unsure what he was supposed to have done.
"Who is that?" she demanded and Astrid walked round to stand by her shoulder.
"You can hear me?" Astrid demanded. She leaned closer. "Really? Say my name! Say my name!" Ruff threw herself back in the chair, Mrs Forsberg and the scam forgotten in her shock.
"Who is this? No! Leave me alone!" she shouted, scrambling out of the chair and tipping it over.
"Miss Thorston-are you alright?" Mrs Forsberg asked, also rising to try to help. Ruffnut screamed and ran towards the door, grabbing the handle and hauling on it-but it was stuck again. Astrid was leaning so she was talking directly into the other woman's ear.
"Say my name! Say my name! SAY IT! Astrid Hofferson! Astrid Hofferson!"
Ruff spun around wildly and waved her hands in a desperate attempt to ward off the unseen voice. "NO! Leave me alone!" she yelled. Her brother dropped all pretence as well and raced forward, trying to help her.
"Sis-what is it?" he asked in a worried voice. Ruff finally managed to haul the door open, looking around wildly.
"My name," the ghost insisted. Ruff glared at her brother.
"Astrid Hofferson!" she shouted and vanished into the room. "Leave me alone!" she yelled-and slammed the door.
Tuff stared at her and then turned to Mrs Forsberg. He gave a shrug.
"As you can see, the spirits are capricious and cruel," he sighed-then gave a bright smile. "Same time next week?"
oOo
In the next room, Ruff was leaning with her back against the door, panting. Her eyes stared wildly around the little kitchen-living room and then she almost ran to the counter and grabbed a knife, waving it around.
"Thor and Odin-protect me!" she said automatically. "Are you here?"
"Yup!" Astrid said, folding her arms and glaring at her. Ruff sighed.
"What do you want? I'm sorry I lied to those ladies but if not me, then someone else!" she protested. "They want to talk to the dead and that just can't happen..."
"Then what are we doing now?" Astrid asked her. Ruff spun round, the knife jabbing through her invisible shape.
"I think you're my guilty conscience...no, wait-I don't have a conscience!" she muttered. Astrid grinned and leaned to whisper in her ear.
"You have now," she smirked.
"AARGH! Just leave me alone!" she shouted.
"No! I'm not letting you alone. You can hear me. You're the only one! And I need you. So you will help me!" Astrid said determinedly as the door knob rattled and Tuff burst into the room, staggering and casting the lock a glare.
"Butt-elf-you okay?" he asked in a concerned voice. "I think you scared Mrs Forsberg half to death! And all our other customers have run away. I told them the spirits were angry this evening...so I hope they come back..."
"They will," Astrid said grimly. "Bereaved people desperately want to see or speak to their loved one, one more time..." And so do most ghosts, she added silently. I know I do..
"Yeah, I know," Ruff sighed as her brother scowled, for her answer made no sense...at least to what he had said. "Tuff-did you hear anything in the room. Any...er...voices...?" The man slumped onto the sagging couch and grabbed the remote, clicking the TV on and flicking through the channels until he found some football.
"Just my crazed twin going crazier than ever!" he grumped. "We're still short on the rent...even with the extra we got off Mrs Forsberg..." Ruff out the knife down and sighed.
"You know Mom had the gift?" she asked her twin, whacking him over the head with a cushion and he nodded. "I'm hearing someone..."
"Astrid Hofferson!" Astrid insisted.
"Yeah, yeah, I don't need your name again," Ruff snapped. "So clingy..."
"Hey-you're the first person who can hear me since I died so forgive me for not being desperate for a proper conversation!" Astrid retorted, folding her arms.
"Yeah, well, we all got our little problems!" Ruff shot back, not seeing her brother sit up and look worriedly at her.
"Are you sure it's not the schizophrenia Uncle Fluffnut had?" he asked her directly. She spun and punched him in the face.
"Of course not!" she said irritably. "I'm hearing a dead person-you are dead, aren't you?"
"Not yet," Tuff grumbled and turned back to the game.
"Well, since I was shot through the heart, spent days in a freezer in the mortuary, had a post mortem and am now buried, I damned well hope so!" Astrid replied.
"Sarky..." the female twin growled and threw herself onto the couch by her brother. "She's sarky. Great! I don't get an interesting rich old guy who wants to tell me where his fortune is buried which could make us rich-no, I get a sarcastic girl with an attitude!"
"Sorry, Miss Fake-being dead will make you a little impatient!" Astrid admitted. Then she shook herself. "I need your help. You are literally the only person who can hear me-so I need you to go to the police and tell them how I was killed."
"Whoa, man-no cops!" Ruff said, slumping further down the couch.
"Look-they think my boyfriend killed me," Astrid said determinedly. "They've interrogated him and made him feel horrible. They aren't looking for anyone else...but I know he isn't guilty because I was there and I saw the guy who killed me."
"Whoa-you were murdered? Helheim, no!" Ruff said and turned the volume up. "I. AM. NOT. LISTENING!"
"I CAN SHOUT!" Astrid yelled into her ear and Ruff grabbed two cushions and pressed one to each ear.
"NOT! LISTENING!" she bellowed. Beside her, Tuff rolled his eyes.
"And I can't hear a Loki-damned thing!" he protested, turning the volume down. He poked Ruff in the chest. "Just talk to her already! Then we can get back to watching the Raiders..." Ruff lowered her cushions and stared at him.
"You believe me?" she asked in shock and he nodded simply.
"You're my twin-I can tell if you're lying, Butt-Elf!" he reminded her. "If you say you're hearing a dead person, you gotta be. Remember, I saw Mom in action as well-and she was as crazed as you are now!" But Ruff shook her head.
"I can't have this and not you, mutton-head!" she protested. "We're twins! We do everything together!" Tuff sighed and gently punched her in the shoulder.
"Ruff-only the girls in our family get the gift," he reminded her. "And I think you probably are a girl...just. I get a fifty-fifty chance of insanity."
"Already there," Ruff shot back with a wan smile. "But I am NOT going to the cops and turning in a murderer! Round here, that doesn't go down well. We may well end up murdered-like Great Uncle Duffnut? Remember him? They only found his nose..." Tuff adopted a thinking expression and then nodded.
"Yeah-isn't he in the Jotunheim Street bridge?" he recalled. Ruff nodded.
"Yeah-according to Mom," she admitted. "Beer please!"
"Look, I am not going until you promise to help me!" Astrid said sternly, sitting on the arm of the couch.
"Gonna have a long wait!" Ruff grumbled as Tuff got up.
"Hey, I'm moving as fast as I can!" he protested while his sister rolled her eyes.
"Not you...oh, why am I even bothering?" she sighed, accepting the beer when offered. "Not listening to you, Miss Dead Astrid Hofferson. You can keep talking all night and I am NOT going to the cops..."
oOo
"Well, I got my axe and I got my mace and I got a husband with an ugly face, I'm a Viking through and through...I'm a Viking through and through!" Astrid sang really badly. "I can go on all night-really...I know three whole verses. And I don't get out of breath or a sore throat...and I really haven't got anything better to do. In fact, I don't need sleep at all..."
"NOT! LISTENING!" Ruff whined, a pillow pressed to each ear as she writhed in her bed. Her twin was sleeping soundly in his bed next to hers, oblivious to her distress. The clock in the parlour had struck three some time ago and Astrid hadn't stopped singing since she refused to help.
"Well...I got my axe and I got my bludgeon and a score of Outcasts locked in my dungeon, I'm a Viking through and through...I'm a Viking through and through..."
"Have you no humanity?" Ruff wailed. "You've been doing this for about five hours!"
"An interesting metaphysical discussion," Astrid grinned. "Does a ghost have humanity? Technically, I am no longer human but something else entirely..."
"NOT! INTERESTED!"
"Well, I got my axe and I got my mace..."
"OKAY! I'LL DO IT!" Ruff screamed, throwing her pillows aside. "I'll do it. Just PLEASE shut up and let me sleep!" Astrid grinned.
"You go back on your word and I'll serenade you for ever!" she threatened. She knew she was a horrible singer.
"No, because being killed by the mob would be infinitely preferable," Ruff groaned. "Hel-I'd even mix the concrete for them to put me in a bridge by Great Uncle Duffnut! Just let me sleep! I'll do what you want in the morning."
Downstairs in the little parlour, the little clock chimed four as Tuffnut continued to snore through the racket. Ruff cast him a jaundiced look as she finally settled down in her bed. In the chair by the door, Astrid gave a satisfied smile.
"It's a deal," she said.