Page 40 of North Is the Night
He grunts in frustration when I elbow him. “Stop wriggling like a fish—”
“Please—just—here, let me take my pants off first.”
He sighs and pushes up with both hands. With his weight off me, I have the room I need. I twist my body under him, leaning down far enough and wrap my hand around the hilt of my knife inside my boot.
Do it, Siiri. Take the shot. Make it count.
With my brother’s voice echoing in my head, I throw my left hand behind his head and dig my fingers into his hair, holding him still. In the same breath, I drag the sharp blade of the knife across his throat, pushing up as I pull him closer to me. It’s a clean cut, deep and deadly.
The trapper grunts as his blood spills down onto my face and neck, drenching me. “You—bitch,” he gurgles, pushing up to his knees, both hands at his throat.
Pulse racing, I scramble to my feet and dart out of his reach.
Blood coats his mouth as he tries to keep the wound closed. He whimpers and I know he knows the truth. “Help me—”
“Never,” I hiss.
Mercy, Siiri.
I wince, pushing Aina’s voice away.
You’re a hunter, not a killer. Show mercy.
“Help me,” he pleads again.
I step closer, my bloody hand gripping my knife tight. “You’re going to die.”
He looks up at me from his knees, eyes wide with fear.
“Take your hands away,” I soothe. “It’ll be faster if you just let go.”
He drops his hands from his mangled neck, holding my gaze as he sways on his knees. “Finish it.”
I gasp. “No, I’m a hunter, not a killer—”
“You’ve just killed me,” he grunts, his icy gaze locked on me. “Finish the job, girl.”
I look down at the blood coating my chest and hands.Hisblood. “I didn’t ask for this.” Angry tears burn my eyes. “Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?”
“I’m a hunter and a killer.”
I shake my head in disgust. “You would make me do this? You would make me be like you?”
He sways, swallowing against the pain at his throat. “Give me—a clean—death,” he wheezes. “I’ll forgive you—like the men on the cross.”
I go still. “What men?”
“The sinners,” he gurgles, his color draining. “With Jesus—on the cross.”
I search his face. It’s only then that I see the leather cord around his neck. Stepping forward, I tug at it, freeing the charm nestled under his bloody tunic. There it is, the sign of the cross, made from a pair of blacksmith’s nails. “You’re a Christian?”
“Forgive me. I’ll—go—heaven—”
Ice fills my veins as I glare down at him. Grabbing him by the hair, I tip his head back, opening his wound. “You were trying to rape me. Nothing was going to stop you but my blade at your throat. You want my forgiveness?”
“I was—desperate—”
“And now you’re dead. And there is no heaven,” I add, tightening my grip in his hair. “When you die, you will go to Tuonela. And you go without my forgiveness. May you find no rest there.” With that, I slam the blade of my knife through his eye, granting him his quick death. His body goes limp as he falls.
