Page 63 of Of Magic and Rum
“I normally prefer to know the name of the people or creatures I kill,” Ragnar responds, motionless like a gargoyle statue.
No, he doesn’t. He’s not known the faces of half the people he’s killed, let alone their names.
The water man scoffs, air puffing from his nostrils. “Then there’s little reason for you to know it.”
“Nøkk,” Anne croaks, her fingernails digging into the stone floor, cracking one of them.
Ragnar’s eyes blaze, and he drops his hands at his sides. “Nøkk,” he repeats, pronouncing it like Scandinavian languages intend.
Suddenly, Nøkk is nervous, and his smile fades away. “Do I know you? Who—are you?” He directs the question at Ragnar, his confidence faltering.
“Ingen,” Ragnar shakes his head, his jaw tightening. “But I know plenty aboutyoufrom the stories told to me as a child.”
Nøkk shoots to his feet, palms up. His unease now borders on fear. “Wait.”
“Nyk. Nyk. Nål i vann,”Ragnar begins to chant.
I have zero idea what Ragnar is saying, but it has Nøkk covering his ears and wailing, so I stand back to enjoy it.
“Jomfru Maria kastet stål i vann.”
“Stop,” Nøkk roars. “I’ll let her go. Just stop.”
But Ragnar doesn’t stop. He speaks the last line louder, emphasizing each word. “Du sinker, jeg flyter.”
“No,” Nøkk bellows and the water wall falls to the ground, splashing around us.
We charge with swords raised, and I stand between him and Anne. I’m seconds away from impaling him with my blade, but he’s—changing. His human form turns rail thin, gangly, gray, and scaled inhumanly. Multiple red fins sprout from his elbows, hips, shoulders, and head, with two much larger ones extending like ears. His blonde hair falls away, replaced by straggly, greasy black strands. The nose has become two nostrils, his face short and broad with deep ridges and grooves above a pair of pupil-less glowing yellow eyes.
“You’re—” I scrunch my nose at him “—disgusting.”
The thought of this thing’s hands on Anne in a human form had me raging, but this? It sends me over the edge.
“Du sinker, jeg flyter,” Ragnar repeats, a command this time.
Nøkk bares rows of pointy teeth before squatting to the floor, his head and back turned at odd angles. And then—he’s gone in a splash of muddied water, leaving patches of green algae behind.
“The chant is meant to ward him away. I don’t know how long it’ll last.” Ragnar tosses me a stern brow.
“Get her to water, Jack,” Mary cries out.
I’m already sheathing my sword and scooping Anne into my arms before barreling out of the cave, grunting as I slip once, catching myself on the wall with a shoulder. She doesn’t have enough strength to wrap her arms around my neck, and they hang limply at her sides, her head resting against my chest.
“Jack,” Anne whispers.
“I have you, love.” After kissing the top of her head, I sprint through the woods, not caring when branches snag on my clothes, leaves slap my face, or stray barbs cut my forehead.
Anne’s groaning, her cheek pressing against my collarbone. I hold her tighter, running as fast as I can without hurting her, and finally, the sea appears on the horizon. I’ve always held a special place in my heart for it, but now, holding apieceof it in my arms, the ocean has become something far more than a mere sanctuary. It’s become—everything.
Night has overtaken the sky since I left Nøkk’s cave. White light spills over the sand from the full moon and makes jagged shapes on the choppy water of the sea’s surface. I slow only a little once I reach the sand, my boots sinking into it. Anne’s nose twitches, and her eyes flutter open, her gaze flicking to the beckoning water before us.
“Jack,” she croaks.
“Yes?” I cradle her like she’s soaked parchment, careful not to let it wither and tear in my arms.
“My trousers.”
Pausing where the tide laps at the shoreline, I do as she asks, crouching to one knee and quickly removing her trousers and boots. Not bothering to remove my clothes or shoes, I scoop her back into my arms and wade into the sea. It’s freezing, and the temperature resembles a thousand tiny pin pricks piercing my skin, but I grit my teeth and bear it. The water welcomes her while still supported in my arms.
