Inverness, late March 2030.

"It's you."

I spat three times to my left. "Hverfa!"

"Now, is that any way to greet an old friend?" the trespasser on my back porch said.

"Get lost."

"Oh, Cas..."

I crossed my arms and stared at Matthias, trying to force him to turn and get lost with the power of my mind.

Didn't work.

Shame.

"Why are you here?" I scanned the shadows behind him, trying to see into the darkness. I had this terrible itch inside my mind, telling me something was off.

There was a man standing several steps behind Matthias, looking like he was trying to merge with the shadows. He was dressed head to toe in dark colours, his hood pulled up against the Scottish spring night air. I had almost missed him; he was standing perfectly still, half-hidden by the shadows the half-moon created, his hands in his pockets.

He looked like a man who wanted to be overlooked.

But I couldn't.

"And who is your companion? Not a friend, since you have none."

What are you?

"Oh, Cas, don't be rude. Let us come in first. I'd like a warm cup of tea, or something warm, other than your welcome, that is. It's freezing out here."

"No."

"Oh, come on!"

"No."

Matthias sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Look, I'm here about the debt."

Helvíti. I had hoped he'd forgotten that.

Stupid debts and their stupid deeds.

I squinted, trying to pierce his skull through all that red hair and read his mind. What are you planning, Matthias? And why did you bring a stranger with you to collect?

After a moment, I gave up and turned my back on the door, leaving it open. Let them come in then. I leaned against the stove and kept my arms crossed as I watched them enter. They had knocked on my back door. To avoid the dismissal spells I had put on the front? I still hadn't spelled the back, however, and now deeply regretted not making the time.

It was too late now. I watched the stranger walk in behind Matthias and close the door quietly. He then lowered his hood and let his eyes roam around my kitchen.

I kept a close eye on him in my periphery.

Matthias sat down on one of my stools and almost lost his balance as it wobbled on the uneven floor.

"Please, do not make yourself at home," I said to him as I kept tracking the stranger. He was cataloguing my herbs and my half-prepared spellwork with an unreadable expression. He paused on my battered Moomin cup collection. I could sense his movements in my vicinity even without looking at him.

"And keep your nimble fingers off my belongings this time, Matthias." I pointed my finger at him. "Remember the last time." He didn't meet my eyes. I turned back to the stranger and took him in properly.

He was a strange, bland man. Medium height, medium weight, medium face, someone who could be from his early thirties to his late forties. It was hard to focus on his face, like my gaze just wanted to glide off him. I forced it to stick. Dirty brownish hair, greyish-something eyes. Add a brown briefcase, and he could be an overworked accountant.

The sort of face you saw on someone doing a crime and never could describe them properly to the authorities or pick them from a line-up. Forgettable.

Yet power radiated off him slightly, like a charge around a generator. The fine hairs of my arms moved in the current. "And you, don't touch my stuff either."

He turned to look at me, and I tried to stare the man down. He didn't blink, just stared back with those grey, blank eyes.

"I wasn't planning to. Never touch a sorcerer's stuff, my mother used to say to me." His voice was quiet, indescribable, non-threatening. He gave me a half-smile, nodded and turned away, deciding to play polite.

"Oh, she did, didn't she." I tried to read him as he continued auditing my home. This time I paused when he saw the plush pillow collection on my bed, as I had left the door ajar. I took a few steps and kicked the door closed, blocking his sightline. I caught a whiff of leather as I passed him, but no trace of anything else. Usually power made a scent. "And who was she, so wisely warning her son? And who are you, exactly?"

The man kept half-smirking to himself and turned away but didn't answer.

Matthias spoke instead.

"This is Marcus, my... associate. The thing is, Cas, because of certain accidents in these past few years, I owe him a life debt. Now he wants to collect it... from you."

Matthias briefly met my eyes before looking down at his hands, pretending to check his impeccable nails.

"We... He wants your help in finding the Necromancer," he muttered to his cuticles. "I told him you might be able to help."

That name... The Necromancer. The Magister Mortis. Draugameistari. I flinched like he had whipped me. Matthias, dammit!

Put some ice into your hat, Cas. You need your poker face for this.

I dropped my shoulders, breathed low into my stomach, unclenched my jaw, and shifted my weight to my heels.

Better.

I could breathe again.

I turned to this Marcus. "Do you now?" I managed to make my voice a lazy drawl, instead of a panicked squawk, and tilted my head. "You want me to find the famous, evasive Necromancer. He hasn't been spotted in a decade or two, not since Dad died. What makes you think I can find him?"

"Death is your domain, dear Cas, and I thought..." Matthias cut in.

"Matthias," the stranger said, his voice even.

Matthias went back to staring at his manicure.

Marcus kept his attention on me, face expressionless. I tried to catch it twitching, some microexpression, but my eyes wanted to glide off him again. I blinked. Give me a tell, dammit.

"I don't know if you can find him. But considering your particular talents... I thought you might," he said evenly.

"Sorry, I don't know where he is," I said just as evenly, choosing my words with care. If you want to lie with the truth, choose your words with care. How to live with the Huldufólk 101. "So, I guess your favour stays unfulfilled. Bye. The door is that way." I pointed at the door.

Marcus was looking at me with a dubious look. A power of sensing the truth? If he did, his reading of my answer must be confusing as hell.

He thought that over before letting it go. "Well, I'll take your word for it. There is another matter you, Miss Cassandra Smith, can help me with instead."

"What is it, do tell?" I laid it on thick with the sarcasm, just to be sure.

"I need to find the grave of Gottskálk Nikulásson, and your late stepfather knew where his latest grave is, as he moved him there. Can you raise his spirit and get the location?"

"You want your hands on the Rauðskinna? Are you insane?" My voice pitched higher a notch and cracked on the last word. This man must be mad, or worse, stupid.

"You know of it."

"Know of it... Of course I know of it! My mother used to... There are literal cautionary tales! Everyone in Iceland knows of it. Are you two fools? You're too early; March still has a few days left."

"So it can be acquired."

"No, it can't. That book is guarded by Gottskálk himself! You don't just walk up to a powerful, sentient draugr bishop and demand his precious book!"

They just kept staring at me. Matthias was silently pleading, Marcus was staring at me with suspicion and intent. Time to speed up this conversation.

"Can I ask why the hell you need it in the first place?"

They stayed silent and unblinking. Apparently, that was a no.

"Why do you need me? You can whip out a regular Ouija board and ask Dad yourself." I waved my hand toward my supply closet. "Look there, I can lend you one. Be my guest."

"He is not answering to any regular summoning rituals, so we need a more... sophisticated and hands-on approach. More close up and personal. My sources say it needs to be done at his grave, by a relative. Or a stepdaughter would do."

What sources? Hela? And at his grave? Well, that would make sense if they wanted to maximise the odds of succeeding...

Could I get out? Probably not. The debt was called in, and I had to pay. But I couldn't let them have the book. That was one family grave I needed to keep visitors off.

I closed my lids for a moment and rubbed my temples. I felt a migraine creeping in.

Think!

"Fine." I opened my eyes and stared at Marcus. "I will come to Iceland, call Dad's ghost and ask for the location. After that, my debt is fulfilled, and the rest is your funeral. Are we clear?"

Marcus looked like he wanted to add something, so I turned to Matthias and stared at him firmly, offering my dirty hand out. I had been planting herbs when they jumped on me.

"Are we clear?" I repeated straight to Matthias. He was the one I owed, not Marcus, so he was the one who needed to agree. My fingers were soil- and grass-stained, smelling faintly of organic fertiliser. Matthias was staring at my hand with his lip curling, like I was offering a handful of dog shit for him to shake. He didn't want to touch it.

"It's this or something else, but no extras, no side dishes, no open-ended favours. You don't get to add items to the list as you think of them." He glanced at Marcus, who then nodded once. I bet he had wanted to fool me into multiple favours, and he clearly did not expect my precise wording. He knew when to bow out.

Matthias took my hand and shook it firmly. Damn, he didn't even flinch!

"Deal."

The word slammed on us with a vibration. I felt it trembling like an infrasound boom, in my teeth, in my bones, in my soul. It was the boom of a heavy prison door slamming shut. It spread farther and farther, like the binding life-debts did, and sealed the deal.

Too late for regrets, then.

Suddenly, an echo reached Marcus and resonated back to me, and I caught a tiny glimpse of him with it. A glimpse of something... Something like seeing a glimpse of a grade five tornado land near your home and disappear immediately.

I turned to stare at him.

Marcus was tilting his head, his brow furrowing, his gaze unfocused. He was getting a sense of something, too.

I held my breath.

Soon he shook his head, shrugged his shoulders and focused back on the present, his face blank once again.

I exhaled quietly. I needed to be careful with this one.

Matthias moved towards me, his hand reaching out.

"Cas—"

"Don't."

We stared at each other. He was pleading for forgiveness, but I had none to give, since I was filled only with resentment. He turned away from me, and I saw his Adam's apple bob.

I looked up and down again at the bland stranger taking space in my cabin.

Too much space.

More than his medium frame should have.

Too much presence.

I needed this visit to be over and these people gone.

"So, when do we leave for Iceland? I hear the crossing is a bitch in April, icebergs and all, and we all know how that ends." My anxiety was about to take over, and I was turning morbid. I collected myself. "You have any shipferries booked?"

"First we do a detour," Marcus replied. "First we go to London, and you'll come with us. We need to investigate a related clue. We book a shipferry from there."

I took a deep breath. I should have asked about that before offering my hand.

The men left after they said they'd keep me updated, but I should prepare to leave within a week or two. Marcus exited first without a farewell. Matthias lingered at the door with his hand on the handle.

"Happy birthday, Cas. Thirty-five years and you haven't died yet? That deserves a party."

"You're a week late," I said unemotionally. I had spent my birthday alone, and it stung.

"Better late than never, huh?" He looked at me, smiling sadly. "It is good to see you." He pulled the door closed behind him.

I collapsed on the floor and broke into a sob.

After the tears stopped, I just sat there, numb. The kitchen felt too empty, like Marcus and Matthias had taken something with them as they left, stolen a part of my comfortable reclusion. Even the silence was too loud, too obvious. My ears were ringing from it.

My past was finally catching up with me. I probably had to face everything I left behind.

The huldufólk... They had taken care of me like family, but their care was poison.

And then there were the Aesir. They were worse than poison, they were a cage. Like gods always are.

Reason enough to hide in plain sight under a fake name.

I needed to prepare, pick a few things. And to subtly investigate. And contact Sara and ask if she knew anything about what Matthias had been up to. But how? She was in Reykjavík, and no post would reach her in time.

It was time I visited Leakey's.