Page 21 of Hallowed & Haunted

Tilting his head up, he studies Niillas with his intelligent eyes bright with curiosity rather than skepticism. It’s unsettling how easily Sander accepts the supernatural, how readily he’s adapting to a world where ghosts and trolls exist. Most people would be out of their minds with terror or denying what they’d seen.

“You handled her well,” Niillas says, avoiding Sander’s initial question. “Kept her talking, kept her focused on you instead of…” He trails off, not wanting to voice what might have happened if Sander had panicked, or if Marta had dragged him to her cold dwelling place.

“I was terrified,” Sander says, resting his head against Niillas’ shoulder. “But she seemed lonely more than anything.Desperate. Like she was trying to save me from something worse.”

“The stállu.”

“Huh?”

“The troll.”

Sander tenses.

“It’s out there, right? I saw it moving between the trees.”

Niillas nods reluctantly.

“A being from the old stories. They hunt in the deep forests, feeding on human flesh.”

“Will it come inside?”

“Probably not.”

He has encountered trolls before during his extensive hiking trips, and most of the time, they recognize him as the more dangerous predator. But trolls are also dumb, and Niillas isn’t sure if the one circling outside is able to resist the delicious smell of warm skin and cold fear radiating from Sander. And something else, something a troll might find even more enticing.

“You’re baptized, right?”

Sander shudders.

“Yes? I’m not religious, haven’t been to church for ages, but—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Niillas says, holding him closer on instinct, and looking down at the bloody scratches decorating Sander’s leg.Shit. Christian blood and fear. Irresistible to a troll.

“Oh, god,” Sander breathes.

The Nordic tales about trolls and the Sámi myths about the stállu are similar enough that Sander knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“Does—does that mean a Christian symbol could stop the troll? A cross or a prayer?”

Niillas smiles against Sander’s hair despite their circumstances. He’s more clever than most people give him credit for. Quick to adapt. Always strategic. That makes him so successful on the ice.

“Unfortunately, that isn’t how it works. Unless you’re a true believer or secretly a Lutheran priest.”

Carefully, Niillas pulls the little devil’s horns from Sander’s hair.

“Damn, I forgot about those.” Sander presses closer again, still so cold and spooked. “What do we do? Just hope the stállu doesn’t dare to enter the house, or doesn’t think about crashing the building with rocks?”

Niillas has to swallow an irritated growl. As if he’d let anything happen to Sander.

“My grandma taught me a few tricks. I’ll drive the stállu off if it comes to that.”

A soft sigh escapes Sander’s lips. Relief, Niillas realizes.

Sander is quiet for a long moment.

“You knew about the stállu, right? That it could be out there.”

Clever. And way too perceptive.