Everyone nodded their heads, the teen's mom saying, "Aye, Old Agda knows. You listen to her, reaper."
"Five husbands?" I couldn't help but ask.
"They all died young, all but the last one, and he were thirty year younger'n me. Died happy they did, too." She cackled, elbowing the mom beside her. Mom smiled indulgently.
I gave myself a mental shake. I needed to make plans, and standing around here talking about Kristoff and husbands was not going to help matters. "Well, that's nice, but—"
"I like the young ones," another woman called out from the back, a woman around whom three children were clustered, clutching her long skirts. "They've got stamina. Maybe our reaper ought to look for someone a bit younger."
"Bah," the first woman said. "What good is stamina if they don't know what to do with it? It's all about what god gifted them with, if you want my opinion."
"I don't need anyone with more stamina," I protested. "Besides, Kristoff is a vampire and is who knows how many hundreds of years old. Just about anyone is going to be younger than him."
"The younger ones lack experience," the teen's mom argued with the size-matters woman. "And it doesn't matter how long a man's member is if he hasn't the experience to use it properly. The young ones don't know how to please a woman, and the ones without experience just leave you wishing they'd be done so you can bring in the wash and tend to supper. Now, the reaper's man, he looks like he knows what he's about."
"I'll say he does," her daughter purred.
I narrowed a look on her that by rights should have turned her to stone before realizing what I was doing. I was not jealous of Kristoff! I did not want him! It was Alec I was interested in. Alec who smiled, and was happy to turn off the lights, and left me with a dead body… oy.
"That's all women's talk," the middle-aged ghost interrupted. "What our reaper wants is someone who can protect her. The true measure of a man is how he provides for his family."
"You're just saying that because you'd just built Ingveldur a new cabin," one of the other men called out. "Two rooms! Who has need of a separate sleeping room, I ask you? That's just flaunting your wealth in the face of god, that is."
"Ha! Thus speaks the man with three—three—milk cows, when one would do. If you want to talk about setting yourself above the rest of the village, Hallur Hallsson, then you'd best look to yourself first."
"I needed those cows," the man named Hallur yelled, storming forward to confront his neighbor. "I had six children to feed! Unlike Agda and her hundred chickens. All those chickens for just one old woman. Bah! That was flaunting wealth if there ever was flaunting."
The elderly lady shot him a nasty glare. "I'd quite a few less chickens than when I started out, and I know just whose pot they ended up in, don't I?"
An argument broke out amongst the ghosts about the merits of one-room versus two-room housing, cows, chickens, and, inexplicably, a pig named Freyja. I was about to yell for attention when timid little Marta came forward and put a ghostly hand on my arm, making my skin tingle a little where she touched me.
"Don't listen to them," she said softly, a little smile on her lips as she glanced at Karl. "I've been married a whole year, and what they're saying isn't that important. None of it really matters so long as you are fond of your husband."
"But I'm not," I told her, wishing like the dickens that someone, anyone, would just listen to me without forming their own assumptions. "I don't even like him. He murdered a man in cold blood, right in front of me."
"He was defending you," Karl said, raising his voice a little as the argument continued behind him. "He saved your life."
"Possibly, but we don't know that. The man who grabbed me could have killed me easily if he wanted to, but he didn't. He was simply using me as a shield to protect himself from Kristoff. Oh, it doesn't matter," I said, rubbing my temples. A headache had come in the aftermath of my tears, leaving my head pounding. "None of this really matters. What I have to do is decide what steps to take to get myself and all of you to safety. People. People!"
The arguing stopped as I yelled and banged the lid of a garbage can.
"… told you that pig was barren, but would you listen to me? No, you wouldn't; you just had to… oh." The man who bore a strong resemblance to Ulfur stopped arguing and turned to look at me. "Sorry."
"Thank you." I eyed them all carefully for a few seconds. "Before we proceed, I'd like to know if any of you have any idea whatsoever of the whereabouts of this Ostri place I'm supposed to take you. Anyone?"
Fifteen blank faces regarded me.
"Hmm." I bit my lip and tried to think through the dull waves of pain that ebbed and flowed against my brain like molasses. "Kristoff said the Brotherhood will kill me, so I can't go to them. Anniki is dead, and I don't know any other Zoryas, assuming there are others to know, so I can't ask one of them where you're supposed to be taken. If I was home, I could look it up online and see if there's some clue as to where Ostri is located, but Kristoff has my passport. And besides, Audrey has all our tickets. I don't even have any money."
At that, my stomach rumbled, and I realized it had been at least twelve hours since I'd last eaten.
"Oh, man," I said, wrapping my arms around myself. "No money means no food, or a way out of here, or even a place to stay. I've got to get some money."
Ulfur pursed his lips and looked thoughtful. "I'd give you my coins, but they washed out to sea with the rest of the village."
I shook my head, thinking over my options. Wire home for money? That would probably require identification to pick up the funds, and my wallet had no doubt been confiscated. Steal it?
"Does anyone here have any thieving experience?" I asked my little gaggle of ghosts.
"Aye, Hallur does," the old lady named Agda called out. "He can take a chicken out of its nest without ruffling a feather."
"That's a lie!" he yelled, rounding on her.
"Anyone else?" I interrupted before they got started.
Everyone shook their heads. "Great. Me, either. I wouldn't know how to go about stealing money in this day and age of high-tech security." I chewed on my lip a bit more.
"Can you borrow some coins from a friend?" Ulfur asked, stroking Ragnar's head.
"I don't have any friends here—" I started to say, then remembered Magda. She wasn't a friend per se, but she was very friendly, and seemed an understanding sort of woman. The question was, would she help me, or turn me over to the police?
I shook my head at the notion of trusting my life to someone I didn't really know. Magda may seem like a nice person, but what proof did I have that I could trust her in a time of need?
I'd just have to find someone else.
"There's your husband," Marta said. "You could ask him for money."
"I'll ask Magda," I told the ghosts, coming to a snap decision. "But I can't go traipsing around with you all on my heels. We'd better find somewhere to park you that you'll be safe from the soul-sucking Ilargi person."
I contemplated trying to make my way around town without being spotted by police, fellow tour members, Kristoff, or the Brotherhood folk, but a few moments' consideration left me shrugging at the building in front of me. Why not? I hustled my little group into the library and told them to vanish. The library was due to close almost immediately thereafter, but with a cunning that was heretofore unknown to me, I managed to hide myself beneath a stack of beanbag chairs in the children's area, and remain there until the building was closed.