LITMIR.BIZ

      This is what the legend says. Nobody knows whether it is true, but in the 16th century, a cursed child of the Ice People was born. He tried to turn evil into good, which is why they called him Tengel the Good. This legend is about his family. Actually, it is mostly about the women in his family – the women who held the fate of the Ice People in their hands.

      Chapter 1

      Horror comes in many forms.

      Horror can be a small, kind, middle-aged lady wearing a grey hat and coat, with an unfortunate desire to help people in distress.

      It took this form in the Norwegian city of Halden during the cruel winter of 1937, when a short, inconspicuous woman held the city in such a tight grip of horror that it shook the whole of Norway, with the eyes of the Western world focused on the place.

      One cold, dark morning in January 1937, as the sirens from the paper mill and the sawmill wailed discordantly with those of the other factories, the breath of death swept across Halden.

      Nobody realized it at the time. Not the pale girls on the bus, who shuddered, half asleep, on their way to work at the cake shop or the shoe factory, exhausted after a long, exciting evening and too little sleep. Not the workers, wrapped in their winter clothes but casually bare-headed, who sloped across the square carrying their lunch boxes under their arms. Not the young policeman, Rikard Brink of the Ice People, who a few days later would be made to feel that the future of the whole city rested on his shoulders.

      Clemens Post, the doctor, didn’t know anything either. How was he to know that in a few minutes his telephone would ring? Not even after the conversation was over did he grasp the scale of what was about to happen, or had already happened.

      Nine people were the first to be involved in the great horror. Nine individuals, then two large groups: one consisting of sixty-two people and the other of twelve. It fell to Rikard, a member of the Ice People, to find them all and see to it that no more people became infected.

      Actually, it had already happened, in several places, on the previous day.

      Nine different individuals ...

      –

      Nos 1 and 2: Vinnie and Kamma

      Kamma Dahlen, a widow, was a relic from the days of upper-class privilege. She would say souper instead of supper and called her hairdresser by his last name, now that she had no servants whom she could address by their surname in the British manner. She used to say how difficult it was to get household help and servants nowadays, and complain about how ungrateful and demanding they were. Even though she didn’t have any. She habitually wore a tweed suit with a knee-length skirt and a cream crêpe de chine blouse with a bow at the neck. Her hair looked like a wig: ochre-yellow and curly, with a middle parting, forced into stiff waves right down to the hard, tight knot in the neck.

      She was fifty years old and used a peculiar, spicy perfume. Young Vinnie felt a creepy unpleasantness in her vicinity.

      The aversion was mutual. Karen Margrethe Dahlen, known as Kamma, couldn’t stand the sight of her late husband’s niece. But because she couldn’t get hold of any servants, she exploited Vinnie’s compliance, and felt that she had quite a good grip on the girl. The important thing was to sit on her constantly, letting her know just how hopeless she was.

      They lived together in the big house by the lake. For many, many years, Kamma had been responsible for the orphaned girl’s upbringing, and in recent years, there had only been Vinnie and Kamma, with Kamma’s son, Hans-Magnus, and Vinnie’s grandmother in the house. Now the grandmother, Kamma’s mother-in-law, had died, and who other than Kamma should now decide Vinnie’s fate?

      “Lavinia!” called Kamma in a well-modulated voice. The girl – if you could call a woman of twenty-eight a girl – entered the blue drawing room, stooped and with a shy, cowed expression on her face. Since Aunt Kamma had used her full name, she knew that something special was brewing.

      Spinster, Kamma thought contemptously. But it was she who had put the girl in that situation.

      “Straighten your back, for goodness sake,” Kamma said sternly. “Have you gathered all the belongings you want to take with you?”

      “I think so, Aunt Kamma.” The humble, almost whispering voice ... as if she wanted to excuse herself for being there, Kamma Dahlen thought.

      “Well, I’m sure you agree with me that it’s about time you had a home of your own, don’t you? It’s unhealthy for a young lady to remain in her childhood home all her life. You’ll be in excellent accommodation with a splendid family with fine morals. They’ll keep a tight rein on you and you’ll be closer to everything ...”

      They had been through it all many times. That is to say: Kamma had spoken nineteen to the dozen with conviction in her voice, while Vinnie had

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