Rasmus seems to be deep in thought.
“Do you know who his father is then?” I ask her.
“Rasmus was never born in your world,” she says after a moment. “He was born in this one.”
“What are you talking about?” Rasmus says quietly, looking frightened for once.
“You were born in a pool of black blood,” she says to him. “Screaming like any mortal child would. Your mother held you close, her hands around your little neck, and thought about killing you then. But she hesitated. Your birth wasn’t an accident, you were wanted, oh yes, all she wanted was the son of a shaman. But she couldn’t be sure which prophecy you would fulfill. Was it the one that she wanted? The one to raise the Old Gods? The one to destroy Death? Or the one that would make Death stronger in the end? The prophecy was a secret at that time, but your mother feared Antero Vipunen, who knows all, and creatures like me, who find things out in time. She was fearful that if anyone else knew the power the child had, they would destroy it before she could figure it out first. Before she could kill the boy herself.”
I’m studying Rasmus’ face this whole time, trying to see if any of this makes sense to him. She had said that he had been lying to her. Was that true? Or is this news to him as well?
“In the end,” she continues, “his mother decided the best thing for her would be to wait and see what would become of him. So she had her daughter take the baby out of Tuonela. Left him at a hospital, where mortals would eventually adopt him, take care of him. But even though the shaman never knew he had a child born in another realm, the baby found its way to the shaman anyway. When he was old enough. When he was ready to be trained. When the shaman needed an apprentice.”
The last sentence makes my blood run cold.
Rasmus was my father’s apprentice.
My father, the shaman.
“What exactly are you saying here?” I ask her, my voice echoing in the room. I’m staring at Rasmus with wild eyes now, and his expression matches mine.
It matches mine a little too well.
Oh my god.
“The both of you know the truth. You’ve always known it. But maybe only one of you is finding out right now.”
“Are you saying I’m Torben’s son!?” Rasmus exclaims.
At the same time I’m pointing at him and crying out, “I’m his sister!?”
Mushy lady goes silent. I stare at Rasmus, dumbfounded. Suddenly I’m looking for every single similarity we have. Our height, our athletic build, the cut of our jaw, our cheekbones. His hair may be red, and mine is mahogany, his eyes blue, mine brown, but I see it.
I see my father in him.
Because he’s my father’s son.
Rasmus is my brother.
“If Torben is my father…then who is my mother?” Rasmus manages to eke out, staring at me in the same way I’m staring at him.
Silence fills the underground.
“Who is my mother?!” Rasmus screams, a vein popping on his forehead.
“I have a hard time believing that you don’t know,” she eventually says. “Her blood would be unmistakable.” She pauses. “You’re Louhi’s son.”
Chapter 5
Hanna
“The Truth”
I take a step away from Rasmus, all those reasons to distrust him coming to a head.
“Louhi?” I sputter out. “The ex-wife of Death? The horned demon woman? The one that wants to raise the Old Gods? That’s your mother?”
Rasmus shakes his head, his face paling. “She isn’t. She can’t be.”
“You knew all this time…”
“I didn’t know!” he yells at me, hands going to his red hair and tugging. His red hair.
Never trust a redhead.
“Fuck,” I swear, remembering Death’s motto. “And I just left with you. I believed you.”
“Hanna,” he practically growls, grabbing my shoulders, his fingers digging in as his wild eyes search my face. “I didn’t know. I’ve never met Louhi. I’ve never even seen her. I don’t know who my real parents are, but it’s sure as hell not her. I would know, I would know it.”
“You do know it,” mushy lady says, seeming more like an omniscient god now.
“I don’t!” he yells at her, looking around the cave in a panic. He brings his gaze back to me and I can tell he’s being earnest. “Please believe me. I didn’t know Torben was my father, I didn’t know Louhi was my mother. I don’t even know how it’s possible. Think about it. Think about it for a second, okay Hanna? We both know Torben well. Would he ever be involved with someone like Louhi?”
“No,” I say automatically. “He would never. My father is a good man, he wouldn’t…and he would have been with my mother…” I trail off at that. My mother never talked about her relationship with my dad. Every time I asked, she would brush me off and get mad at me, so I learned to stop asking. I don’t know how long they dated. I don’t even know how long they were married. Rasmus is six years older than me, it’s more than possible that my father wasn’t with my mom when Rasmus was born.