My Soul to Take: A Novel of Iceland Read Online Free PDF Page B

beginning to spread to her shoulders.
    Jonas shook his head. "Her car's outside." He slammed down both hands on the edge of the desk. "Anyway. You're here at least." He smiled. "I'm dying to tell you about the ghost, but that will have to wait until we have more time." Glancing at his watch, he stood up. "I have to do my rounds. I make it a rule to talk to my staff at the end of every day. I have a better sense of the operations and the situation if I know about any problems from the very start. That makes it easier to intervene."
    Thora stood up, delighted to be free. "Yes, by all means. We'll talk about it tomorrow. Don't worry about me. I'll be here all weekend and there's plenty of time to discuss it." As Thora slung her bag over her shoulder, she noticed an awful smell and wrinkled her nose. "What's that stink?" she asked Jonas. "I smelled it out in the car park too. Is there a fish-oil factory near here?"
    Jonas took a few deep breaths. Then he looked at Thora with a blank expression. "I can't smell anything. I suppose I've got used to the god-damn stench," he said. "A whale has washed up just down the beach from here. When the wind's in a certain direction, the smell wafts over the grounds."
    "What?" Thora said. "Do you just have to wait for the carcass to rot away?" She pulled a face when another wave of the stench swept in. If only the problem she was here to deal with was something like this, it would be a cinch.
    "You get used to it," Jonas said. He picked up the telephone and dialed a number. "Hi. I'm sending Thora over. Have someone show her to her room and fix a massage for her this evening." He said goodbye and put the receiver down. "If you go to reception, I've reserved you the best room, with a lovely view. You won't be disappointed."
    A young girl accompanied Thora from the reception to the much-praised room. She was so small that she barely reached up to Thora's shoulder. Thora disliked letting such a slip of a girl carry her bag for her, but had no say in the matter. She was glad that her luggage was not that heavy, even though, as always, she had brought far too much with her. Thora was convinced that different laws applied on holiday from everyday life, that she would wear clothes that she normally neglected in her wardrobe, but she always ended up in the same clothes as usual. She followed the girl down a long corridor that appeared wider than it was because of the skylight that ran its length. The evening sun shone on the thin, fair hair of the girl in front of her.
    "Is this a fun place to work?" Thora asked, making small talk.
    "No," replied the girl without turning around. "I'm looking for another job. There's just nothing going."
    "Oh," said Thora. She had not expected such a frank answer. "Are the people you work with boring?"
    The girl looked back over her shoulder without slowing her pace. "Yes and no. Most of them are all right. Some are real idiots." The girl stopped by one of the doors, fished a plastic card out of her pocket, and opened it. "But I'm probably not the best judge. I'm not too keen on the bullshit they try to feed the guests."
    For the hotel's sake, Thora hoped that this girl did not have much contact with the customers. She wasn't exactly the world's best sales-woman. "And is that why you want to quit?" she asked.
    "No. Not exactly," the girl answered, showing Thora into the room. "It's something else. I can't explain exactly. This is a bad place."
    Thora had entered the room first and couldn't see the girl's face as she said this. She couldn't tell if she was serious, but the tone of her voice suggested that she was. Thora looked around the beautiful room and walked over to a wall of glass overlooking the ocean. Outside was a small terrace.
    "Bad in what way?" she asked, turning to look at the girl. The view implied quite the opposite; the waves glistened beyond an empty, peaceful beach.
    The girl shrugged. "Just bad. This has always been a bad place. Everyone knows