hurried to the window, peering around the corner of the black-out blind and watching him rush down the corridor until he was out of sight.
The room was silent, barring the ongoing screams outside of it. After a few moments, the screaming abruptly stopped.
She froze in silence.
What does that mean? Has he found her? Has something else?
Her chest ached.
Please come back.
She rubbed her eyes and tried to gather her wits. She had made a promise to find answers. She should at least try. Staring at the door wasn’t going to help anyone.
She picked up the books and carried them to the manager’s normal desk, taking a seat behind it. She peered at the computer.
Maybe I can do more than read.
She turned on the monitor, discovering the computer was turned on and still logged in. There was a screensaver made up of bubbles floating across the screen. She moved the mouse. The bubbles disappeared and were replaced by a standard Windows desktop.
Okay, internet.
She opened a web browser and hit the home button. ‘Server not found,’ appeared on the screen.
Crap, no internet.
She clicked on the Start Menu and went to the control panel. Inside ‘Network and Internet’, it showed that there was no connection. She tried the internal network, but it was also offline.
Turning off the monitor, she slumped back in the chair.
She stared at the phone on the desk for a few moments before her mind registered that it was a telephone. She snatched up the handset and listened for a dial tone. It was dead. She pressed nine for an outside line, but it remained silent.
Shaking her head, she dialled the police anyway. Nothing happened. She sighed and fished her mobile phone out of her pocket, staring at the device. The screen was black. She tried turning it on again, but it was completely dead and nothing happened.
Crap.
Glancing at the door, she listened to the clock on the wall tick loudly.
What’s taking him so long?
Before she fell into a pit of despair, she grabbed the first book on the pile and read the title, trying to get into research mode. The words ‘Germanic Neopagnism: Dark Rites’ were emblazoned across the old brown cover. She flipped open the book and peered at the copyright page. It was published in 1885.
Oh, this is going to be a nightmare.
She shook her head and flipped through the pages, glancing at the bold chapter titles that jumped out at her. ‘Odinism’ ... ‘Aryan Ancestry’.
I don’t even know what I’m looking for.
She tried to think about it logically.
If someone did this and used this book, then they must have read it a few times.
She closed the book and examined the spine. There were many creases down the spine, but the thickest one was down the middle of it.
Someone read that chapter a lot.
She flipped open the book to around where the deepest crease was, and it flopped open on a chapter labeled ‘Berserkers.’
She skimmed the words and widened her eyes when she read the second paragraph.
‘These Norse warriors fought in an uncontrollable, trance-like fury and were reported to be able to transform into wild beasts. Similar to the Iliad myth, these creatures were also described as having superhuman abilities.’
Lucy continued reading.
‘The Berserkers were considered Odin’s special warriors …’
Oh, come on, Odin and Norse gods, really? This is such a waste of ti—
Her eyes froze on the next line.
‘With red or bloodshot eyes and beastly bodies, these Berserkers often took on the form of the wolf, bear or bull.’
The memory of red glowing eyes through the windowpane flashed across her mind. She stared blankly at the book.
This is ridiculous. You can’t summon a myth into existence.
She dropped the book on the other side of the desk, and her eyes fell upon the next one. It was an ancient-looking, leather-bound tome with one word carved into the cover.
Seiðr
.
She stared at it for a moment. It was bound together with leather twine that was old and cracked. She untied
The room was silent, barring the ongoing screams outside of it. After a few moments, the screaming abruptly stopped.
She froze in silence.
What does that mean? Has he found her? Has something else?
Her chest ached.
Please come back.
She rubbed her eyes and tried to gather her wits. She had made a promise to find answers. She should at least try. Staring at the door wasn’t going to help anyone.
She picked up the books and carried them to the manager’s normal desk, taking a seat behind it. She peered at the computer.
Maybe I can do more than read.
She turned on the monitor, discovering the computer was turned on and still logged in. There was a screensaver made up of bubbles floating across the screen. She moved the mouse. The bubbles disappeared and were replaced by a standard Windows desktop.
Okay, internet.
She opened a web browser and hit the home button. ‘Server not found,’ appeared on the screen.
Crap, no internet.
She clicked on the Start Menu and went to the control panel. Inside ‘Network and Internet’, it showed that there was no connection. She tried the internal network, but it was also offline.
Turning off the monitor, she slumped back in the chair.
She stared at the phone on the desk for a few moments before her mind registered that it was a telephone. She snatched up the handset and listened for a dial tone. It was dead. She pressed nine for an outside line, but it remained silent.
Shaking her head, she dialled the police anyway. Nothing happened. She sighed and fished her mobile phone out of her pocket, staring at the device. The screen was black. She tried turning it on again, but it was completely dead and nothing happened.
Crap.
Glancing at the door, she listened to the clock on the wall tick loudly.
What’s taking him so long?
Before she fell into a pit of despair, she grabbed the first book on the pile and read the title, trying to get into research mode. The words ‘Germanic Neopagnism: Dark Rites’ were emblazoned across the old brown cover. She flipped open the book and peered at the copyright page. It was published in 1885.
Oh, this is going to be a nightmare.
She shook her head and flipped through the pages, glancing at the bold chapter titles that jumped out at her. ‘Odinism’ ... ‘Aryan Ancestry’.
I don’t even know what I’m looking for.
She tried to think about it logically.
If someone did this and used this book, then they must have read it a few times.
She closed the book and examined the spine. There were many creases down the spine, but the thickest one was down the middle of it.
Someone read that chapter a lot.
She flipped open the book to around where the deepest crease was, and it flopped open on a chapter labeled ‘Berserkers.’
She skimmed the words and widened her eyes when she read the second paragraph.
‘These Norse warriors fought in an uncontrollable, trance-like fury and were reported to be able to transform into wild beasts. Similar to the Iliad myth, these creatures were also described as having superhuman abilities.’
Lucy continued reading.
‘The Berserkers were considered Odin’s special warriors …’
Oh, come on, Odin and Norse gods, really? This is such a waste of ti—
Her eyes froze on the next line.
‘With red or bloodshot eyes and beastly bodies, these Berserkers often took on the form of the wolf, bear or bull.’
The memory of red glowing eyes through the windowpane flashed across her mind. She stared blankly at the book.
This is ridiculous. You can’t summon a myth into existence.
She dropped the book on the other side of the desk, and her eyes fell upon the next one. It was an ancient-looking, leather-bound tome with one word carved into the cover.
Seiðr
.
She stared at it for a moment. It was bound together with leather twine that was old and cracked. She untied
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