Page 31 of Hallowed & Haunted

“Absolutely not.” Sander’s hands come up to frame Niillas’ face, fingers tracing along his jaw with a gentleness that makes his breath hitch. “You’re magnificent. Both versions of you.”

A pleasant warmth envelops Niillas as Sander’s hands trail down his neck, across his collarbone, mapping the lines of his chest like he’s trying to commit every detail to memory.

“You’re very tactile this morning.”

Sander’s cheeks flush pink, but he doesn’t pull away.

“I like it,” Niillas adds, in case that wasn’t plenty obvious.

“Sorry. I just—I need to make sure you’re real. That last night actually happened. That I’m not losing my mind.”

“I’m very much real.” He catches Sander’s wrists, pressing the flat of Sander’s palms flush against his chest. “Last night was real. And you’re not losing your mind.”

Sander lets his head drop against Niillas’ shoulder.

“The ghost was real,” he breathes.

“Yes.”

“And the troll.”

“That too.”

“It called younoaidi. What does it mean?”

“It’s the Sámi word for shaman. An intermediary between the worlds, communicating with spirits, performing healing rituals. Someone who serves as a bridge between the human realm and the realm of spirits and gods.”

“Is that what you are? A shaman?”

“No,” Niillas says, overcome by sudden sadness. “There are nonoaidileft in the old sense; Christianity and colonialism wiped them out. There are people who try to revive and preserve the traditions, and I suspect that there are some who are actually able to wield the ancient power, but I’m not one of them. I’m just a guy who can turn into a bear.”

“You say that as if it were a minor feat.”

“It’s actually quite funny. My grandma almost fell over laughing when I first showed her.”

“Huh? Why’s that?”

There is humor now in Sander’s voice, a reaction to Niillas’ fond memory, and he marvels at how attuned Sander is to his mood.

“Well, the bear is sacred, but the idea of shifting isn’t a Sámi concept.”

“No berserkers?”

Niillas chuckles.

“Not exactly. Thenoaidican transform into a bear, but it’s a spirit journey, not an actual transformation of flesh. But thirteen-year-old Niillas didn’t know that.”

“Did thirteen-year-old Niillas also think black polar bears were cooler than plain old brown bears?” Sander asks, but his voice sounds cautious, as if he’s ready to backtrack in case his joke might offend Niillas.

“Absolutely, yes. I used to love watching the polar bears at Ranua Zoo as a child. I was fascinated by their power.”

“How did you cope with your first change? It must’ve been terrifying.”

Niillas chuckles, elated to have the chance to talk openly about his bear with someone who isn’t his grandma.

“It was wild. One moment, I was a normal kid getting into a fight with some boys who were making fun of me, and the next I was a bear.” Niillas smiles against Sander’s hair. “When I found out my bear was a black polar bear later, I felt like the coolest person in the world.”

Sander laughs.