“And the colors on Sam’s picture?” Heri asked.
“Those were present in the water when I returned a week after my brother was killed. My brother’s best friend’s father was what would today be called the local police chief. When he went out to question the SS officers, he told them that I’d fallen from the cliff while running away in the night and that my body was found in the bay. Smart man. He knew they’d kill me if they knew I was still alive.” He smiled.
“And they bought it,” Sam said, smiling. “Lucky for you.”
“Imagine how strange it was for me to run into that same woman in 1985 when she returned with a new pack of dogs? She was older then, but not nearly looking her age. I think she recognized me from back then, but said nothing,” Gunnar recalled. “But that time she said she was a dance teacher from England named…um, let me think, she called herself uh, Cotswald. Yes! Now I remember. She was Mrs. Cotswald. Maybe she got sick of the Himmler hound beating her up and married a Brit.”
“Well, seeing what she was involved in, I would wish that hound had rather beaten her to death, actually,” Johild grunted. “She could have helped you and Uncle Jon, Papa.”
“But she did,” Sam interjected. “She warned them, didn’t she? And why wouldn’t she acknowledge recognizing your father when she saw him again, if she were so evil?”
“You’re protecting a Nazi bitch whose pals killed my family, Sam,” she retorted. “Don’t protect someone’s reputation against my ill wishes until you think about who she really was.”
Heri could feel the tension mount between the journalist and his cousin again. Gunnar agreed with Sam to an extent, but he wasn’t about to inflame his daughter’s wrath again, not here where his brother’s memory was sacred.
“So, Uncle, do you think that glowing pool will still be here?” Heri asked out of curiosity and for the sake of peace between Johild and Sam.
Gunnar shrugged positively. “I don’t know, but Sam took that picture less than a week ago.”
“Remember, that was just a light anomaly above the spot. It wasn’t a pool — just a bunch of rocks when I investigated,” Sam explained about the night he took the picture above the Empty Hourglass.
“It’s almost dark,” Heri reported, his clear gray eyes surveying the skies and the dying light. “We’ll know soon enough.”
While they sat vigil at the virtually invisible ruin, waiting for the lights to appear, Sam took advantage of the time to find out a bit more about the anomaly he’d snapped with his Canon a few nights before.
“Heri, I saw your books on science and physics at home. You must have some theory on what this is?” Sam asked.
“Astrophysics is my thing, yes,” Heri attested. “But this might be celestial, or at least atmospheric in nature. What would baffle me, though, was if these lights were under the water. So first we have to see if that shaft is still filled with water. If those lights ascend from it, I’ll be thoroughly perplexed.”
Gunnar laughed. It was a dissociative chuckle that sounded like the mocking of someone who knew when others did not. But he hadn’t intended it that way. He was just letting out the juvenile excitement of a boy about to show his friends something awe-inspiring.
“Why can’t you young people just enjoy it for what it is?” he asked with a smile. “Why do you have to analyze and study everything to debunk the magic of the beauty we live in?”
Johild smiled, hooking her arm into her father’s. “I agree with you, Papa.”
“There’s no such thing as magic, Uncle Gunnar. We don’t take things at face value in the name of God anymore,” Heri explained passionately. “The world has evolved into thinking individuals who study and examine things within the scientific spectrum to prove that all things deemed miracles are justified by science. No more do we allow emotion and miracles to steer us and influence our decisions.”
“No,” Gunnar replied indifferently, “your generation is so engrossed by your scientific theories, to claim knowledge previously privy only to gods, that you neglect to understand that miracles and magic are but the manifestation of wondrous scientific principles. We all know that our world is governed by science, Heri, but to be so rigid in proving magical things a farce is in direct contradiction of living — truly living and enjoying the strangeness, instead of trying to debunk everything that is still wonderful in nature.”
Heri sank his head. Of course he disagreed, even just for the use of the words ‘miracle’ and ‘magic.’ But he partly fathomed what his uncle meant. He was perceptive enough to see that Gunnar knew the reality of the anomaly, but chose to see its existence as magical. The forty-three-year-old nephew of old Gunnar elected to accept his uncle’s need to dream and to believe that such things, such as color phenomena under water, were possible.
“Look!” Johild exclaimed. “Is this just psychosomatic of me that I just want to see what my dad is talking about?”
They all got to their feet. Gunnar and Heri looked around them to make sure that there were no other witnesses around them.
“Clear,” Heri said.
“As if anybody could come for a walk on a hilltop in this bloody cold!” Sam shivered.
“Scotland is colder, isn’t it?” Johild asked mockingly.
Sam leered at her over the collar he’d pulled up to cover his mouth and nose. “Usually, but with the wind chill of your heart, Jo, these islands can grow colder than the Arctic.”
“Oh darling, I only make it cold to give you an excuse for the obvious lack of endowment you no doubt sport under those layers of clothing,” she hit back.
“Whoa!” Sam gasped, stunned. “That was a really good one!”
Heri followed his uncle, who had started toward the higher slope of the mountainside. In passing he sighed at Sam and Johild. “Get a room already, you two. I can smell the sex from a mile away.”
Chapter 21
“Where is it?” Johild asked when she and the other two had caught up with Gunnar. “I saw it a few moments ago. Papa, it looks like the Aurora Borealis, but very small, right?”
He nodded. “That’s actually the best way to describe it.”
Heri scrutinized the area his cousin had pointed out, but saw nothing. “Are you sure, Jo? I see nothing but flattened stones and long grass.”
Sam stood with him, also trying to find what Johild had claimed to observe. Baffled, the four of them stood staring at the site, moving their eyes to widen their peripheral vision, but saw nothing.
“Gunnar, I’m freezing my fucking ass off,” Sam said. “Can’t we leave a camera here to capture the lights and just stream it to my laptop while we wait in the car?”
“Pussy,” Johild mocked, sending her cousin into a fit of laughter. “Just stick it out, Sam. If it’s what I thought I saw, it’ll be worth the suffering.”
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll stretch out in the car and you and your toughness can come and summon me when the lights appear, okay?” Sam teased. Heri tapped him on the shoulder and pointed out into the dusky gray of the night, his eyes fixed on something. “What?” Sam asked, but he soon knew what his friend was staring at.
Above the area where the two virtually invisible circles of stone met, a faint play of light shimmered no more than a meter above the grass and weeds that curled under the cold wind.
“Holy shit,” Sam gasped softly with widened eyes that were tearing up in the chill of the early night.
Gunnar turned to smile at Sam and Heri, beaming proudly that his word was confirmed. He crossed his arms over his chest and winked. “I told you so.”
“Wow,” Johild uttered in awe, heading straight for the strange pink, green, and blue haze moving lazily within the confines of some invisible field. “The wind is strong up here. Auroras usually appear stronger with less atmospheric movement, don’t they?”