The Winter Place (23 page)

Axel stood up from the mattress, his expression dead. “I wish I had proof, but I don't,” he said. “The Keeper says that the reason you can't
see Mom in the picture is because you haven't been on the path. But even if you could see her, I bet you still wouldn't believe me. You'd find a way not to.”

“Congratulations!” She felt cruel, but she was getting desperate. “You win that bet. Because there is no proof. Because there are no ghosts. Because
reality
.” Tess would have gone on, but Axel had already left the room. She let him escape.

And boy, did he ever. Kalle arrived about a half hour later, parking his pickup in front of the Kivis' condominium to drop Kari off. Tess and Kari had already planned to spend the day in town, which was good, because the last place she wanted to be was stuck in that claustrophobic little flat with her maddeningly weird brother. She and Kari went to the movies to watch Finnish-dubbed superheroes give aliens what for. After that they took one of the trams out to the edge of the blinking city, Kari playing the tour guide. It was already well after dinnertime when Jaana called Kari's phone to say that they'd been gone long enough. They were going to tire Axel out.

“What are you talking about?” Tess said. “Axel isn't with us.”

And he saw the pine-clad mountains,

And the hills with fir trees covered,

But he found no more his homestead,

And the walls he found not standing;

Where the house before was standing,

Rustled now a cherry-thicket,

On the mound were pine trees growing,

Juniper beside the well-spring.

—
KALEVALA
, RUNE XXIX

O
riginally, Axel's plan had been to slip away without saying anything to his sister. He'd started packing in the morning, before anybody else was awake, being careful to take only what wouldn't be missed—forgotten tins of sausages and sardines in the back of a cupboard, an old box of rye crackers, two jars of cloudberry preserves. To these he added sweaters and a flashlight, matches and a single fork. Of course, there was also the question of defense; not only from the stalking Hiisi but also the historical grab bag of surly, warlike ghosts. At least in this department Axel was in good shape. Sam's knight-of-the-realm wardrobe included actual steel chain mail, plated with oiled brass. And even though Sam's sword
had
OTHTAR'S REPLICA WORKSHOP
carved into the pommel, it was still exactly what Axel thought a real sword should be: a big-ass metal stick with a pointy end.

He had no doubt that Tess would lose her mind with worry, but he didn't think there was any way to prevent that. After all, his picture of Saara—the only real proof he had—was invisible to her. Without it Tess would never believe the first word of his story, not in a freaking life age of the earth. But Axel began to have second thoughts as his escape drew closer. Maybe he should quit with the assumptions and give his sister the benefit of the doubt. After all, Saara was Tess's mother too. And Sam was her father. That their parents were more than just bones in dirt—and moreover, that they
needed help
—was something Tess deserved to know. Axel decided to give his sister a chance. Maybe she'd surprise him.

Tess so, so didn't surprise him. Axel was on his own. Not that there was anything new about that. He'd been on his own ever since the day his dad died.

Getting his overstuffed backpack downstairs without arousing suspicion was easy enough—Axel volunteered to bring a load of garbage to the chute before the Hannula brothers were due to arrive, and he used that as a chance to stash
his backpack behind a potted plant in the lobby. But the task of sneaking it, and himself, into the back of Kalle's pickup would be considerably more difficult. Everything depended upon how distracted his grandparents were and how long Kalle hung around. But as luck would have it, their reunion was full of commotion. Kalle must have still been smarting from Jaana's talking-to, because he leaped out of the truck and carried his little brother's bag right into the lobby. “Thank you
so much
for taking him,” Kalle said, preening before the Kivis, every inch the responsible elder sibling. “I'm
so sorry
for the trouble. Really, I shouldn't be more than a night. Two, at most. Do you have my number? Here. I'll text you.”

Idiot. It was no trouble at all for Axel to slip out of the lobby and hoist himself into the truck bed. Kalle had tied a tarp over his gear, and Axel crawled beneath it, lying still. He'd overheard Tess making plans with Kari on the phone and had told Jaana that he meant to tag along with them. It would maybe buy Axel a few hours, and even after his grandparents realized he was missing, there would still be the matter of figuring out where he'd gone. He should have the night, and most of tomorrow, before they worked it out and came roaring up to Talvijärvi. The truck started, and Axel had to restrain himself from hooting.
There'd be time to congratulate himself later. In the woods. With his mom.

He still felt dumb for how he'd behaved during their first real meeting. Axel had just been so certain that she'd come for
him
. Because, you know . . . how could she not have? Ever since his father died, his life had been like the depressing first act of a fantasy book. It was ridiculously Rowling or Lewis—hell, even the kids out of
Bedknobs and Broomsticks
were de facto orphans. And when your mom's spirit makes a surprise appearance on the day your dad dies, that kind of invites you to make a certain set of assumptions. Like maybe she's come bearing tidings of comfort—reassurances that things are about to stop sucking and get wonderful. Or even better: She's brought news of some secret, magical heritage, and PS your real, awesome life begins
now
. But when Axel hugged Saara's matted body, the first words out of her mouth weren't even directed at him.

“Get it off me,” the bear had said.

The Keeper still had his back braced against the door. A few of the birds were still pecking and hollering outside. “You be nice,” he'd said.

“I will not. What is it?” Saara used one of her big, fish-stinking paws to roll Axel away from her. She touched him only gingerly, as though afraid he'd smear.

Then a bar of moonlight came through the window, and for quick moment Axel glimpsed his mother's ponytail, her horn-rimmed glasses, a spray of freckles. He gulped down a breath and held it. This was what Axel had been waiting for his entire life. Everything that came before this moment, the good and the bad—all those autumns at the Renaissance Faire with his father, all those afternoons getting poked and peered at by a long procession of doctors and specialists—was nothing but a prologue to this exact moment. Axel went to go hug his mother, but the moon had already disappeared and she was suddenly horrible again, all teeth and lips and snout. Tiny eyes.

“We talked about this,” the Keeper said. “He's your son.”

“This one?” Saara gave a huge, chest-filling sniff, almost enough to change the atmospheric pressure in the room. “Looks weird. Smells weird. Keep it away from me.”

The Keeper turned to Axel and smiled lamely. “Sorry. Manners are the second thing to go, after the heartbeat.”

Axel had nothing to say to this. He stared at the bear, his mother. His eyes were watering a little bit, but they weren't tears of joy. They were tears of who-knows. Tears of what-the-hell. Really, it shouldn't have been a surprise that his mother
didn't recognize him. Their lives had overlapped for all of twenty minutes. But still, hadn't Saara been, like, watching? From up on high, or beyond the veil, or wherever the dead watch the living from? Axel had taken it for granted that his mom would be apprised of current events. He'd been banking on some common ground.

“I think it's probably safe to . . .” The Keeper shifted on the floor, pushed the drapes aside, and peeked out at the yard. A crow collided with the window immediately in front of his face, threading the glass with cracks. “Nope. Perhaps another few minutes.”

Saara let out a low, distinctly animal groan. “I'm sick of waiting.” Then what could roughly be called an expression passed across her blunt snout. Her small eyes got smaller, and she took a towering step toward Axel. Her wet mouth came much too close. Her teeth were greenish about the middle, black at the roots. “You said this was my son. Sam's son. Maybe it knows where Sam is.”

“It doesn't even know where
it
is,” the Keeper said.

Saara huffed, blasting a jet of hot air and some flecks of drool across Axel's face. “This was Sam's place,” she said, sort of to herself. “I was sure it was his place.”

“It could still be,” the Keeper said. “Be patient.”

“I have been,” Saara said. “God, have I been patient.” She took a heavy step toward the front door, floorboards bowing beneath her. “Coming through, old man. I'm going to go check the lake again.”

The Keeper glanced once more out the cracked window. “Maybe we should wait until they—”

“Not my problem,” Saara said, shoving the Keeper aside with her ox-wide skull and clawing at the handle. When she couldn't open the door by conventional means, she pressed both front paws into it, snapping the frame like soggy cork. And out she went, a big round dent in the night. The Keeper struggled to get the door back on its hinges, and when he couldn't, they retreated to the master bedroom. Axel's bedroom.

“So. Welcome home,” the old man said, a little sheepishly.

It was freezing in the bed of Kalle's pickup. Now and again Axel would fold back the corner of the tarp, to track their progress. Residential rooftops took the place of city buildings, which were in turn swapped out for naked oaks and frizzy pines. The road became mostly empty, except for the Hiisi, which had been trailing them since Helsinki.

“The old killjoy is nothing if not single-minded,” the Keeper had said. He'd lingered with Axel after
Saara left, their voices echoing through the shell of the empty A-frame. The Keeper had explained about the ghosts—how they're all knit to the places where they come from. How even if someone dies halfway across the world, she'll still wind up haunting her true home. That's why Saara was in Talvijärvi and why Sam wasn't. It was also why the castle at Erikinlinna had been stuffed to the gills with long-dead Finns from across the centuries. “The dead come down like snow in the forest,” the Keeper had said. “Layer after layer. Everybody in their place.”

Despite everything Axel had just been through—setting aside, even, the fact that his earlobe was still throbbing from where one of those undead-soldier birds had pecked at it—he'd found this last bit tough to swallow. Because weren't ghosts supposed to be a special case? Wasn't haunting an activity reserved for melancholy people who had dramatic personal issues to resolve before they could trot off into the great-white-peaceful beyond? But not so, explained the Keeper. The woods
were
the beyond. “Most of the dead are restful,” the Keeper said, “and that makes them tough to find. But it doesn't mean they aren't there. The dead are always there.”

More interesting than any of this was what the old man had told Axel about the path—a hidden track that ran from one haunted wood to the next.
The path was how the Keeper and Saara had traveled to Baldwin in the first place. Axel had accidentally stumbled upon it as he'd searched for the castle and had taken a short walk to America. “That's why the Hiisi is after you,” the Keeper said. “Hiisi is
of
the path. It keeps order in the worlds of the dead.”

“But it's been following me since summer,” Axel said. “Before I ever came to Finland. Months before my father died.”

“I wouldn't be surprised if the Hiisi has been trailing you for even longer than that,” the Keeper said. “On the first night I met you, I could tell that you already had a foot on the path. That's how you were able to find it so easily. That's why you can see your mother in that picture. I'm not sure if this is because of what happened to Saara when you were born, or because of your . . .” The old man nodded limply, seeming to indicate the entirety of Axel's puniness. “You know. Your
affliction
. Whatever it is that's going to someday kill you.” Wow. No tact there. Axel found this strangely pleasing. “But you're not dead yet, and you have no business walking the path. You're disturbing the Hiisi's order—upsetting the balance. The Hiisi feels it keenly that you don't belong. It will do whatever it can to be rid of you.”

Axel had almost snorted at this last bit. Not belonging was the story of his life. “So am I just
stuck with it?” he said. “Is the Hiisi going to follow me forever?”