Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 33 - Demon of the Night

“Ah, you like my company, don’t you?” she would say happily. “You little imp!”

Once it happened that he was out on a forbidden excursion with Vanja when they met Henning and Agnete.

Vanja stiffened.

“What’s wrong?” asked Henning. “Why do you look so surprised?”

They couldn’t help but see him, could they? He had jumped up on her shoulder, where his sharp little claws were digging into her skin. Tamlin seemed just as frightened as Vanja.

Agnete said gently: “What’s the matter, Vanja? Did something just occur to you?”

They couldn’t see him. Vanja relaxed and said with a smile: “Oh, it’s just some homework that I’ve forgotten to do.”

Tamlin stood up on her shoulder, poked his thumbs in his ears and waved his hands while he stuck out his tongue at the others. Vanja couldn’t help laughing.

So the rest of the household probably couldn’t see him either, and now he had permission to move about in the house, provided he behaved himself. But then there was Benedikte ... She was one of the stricken. Vanja kept Tamlin at a distance from her, but one day they entered a room and found Benedikte standing there. She turned towards Vanja so quickly that Tamlin didn’t have time to slip away. “Oh, there you are. I wanted to know whether you can look after André for an hour or so?”

Tamlin stood on the floor at Vanja’s feet, no longer the size of a squirrel but more like a cat. But Benedikte saw nothing.

Vanja thought: I’m the only one who can see him. It must be because my grandfather was Lucifer, the fallen angel. The other Ice People don’t have the power to see Tamlin.

However, Heike, Vinga and Tula had all seen demons, and so had Ingrid and Silje. No, not Silje, because she wasn’t one of the Ice People, and the demons she had seen in her dreams and when she was awake were the demons that belonged to the Ice People. So why was it that Benedikte, a stricken member of the family, couldn’t see Vanja’s little demon?

It was Tamlin who answered that question for her.

One afternoon, when they were alone in the house, Vanja raised the matter. He was sitting on the desk in front of her. “Shit demons,” he hissed, full of disgust. “The Ice People’s demons are shit demons!”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I know who I am.”

“How do you know?” she asked. “The first time I saw you, you were just a little grey ball on a pillow, no bigger than a chicken’s egg.”

“I’m no chicken,” Tamlin hissed in his gravelly voice. “I know because somebody imprinted it on me. It was already in my thoughts.”

“Very well, fair enough. Who are you then?”

“A demon of the night.”

Vanja paused for a moment. The little demon was obviously waiting for her to react, particularly by being impressed.

She said: “You’ve got airs. The question is: what does that involve?”

“A demon of the night plays a part in people’s nightmares. It’s an invisible being. My mother was one of the most distinguished of them.”

“And your father?”

“He was a storm demon. And who can see the wind?” His voice sounded as if it came from a hollow space, as if he didn’t have the same kind of vocal organs as humans. It was a strain for him to speak.

Vanja was a strange girl, a little precocious in her conversation. She asked him matter-of-factly: “Are the Ice People’s demons just ordinary then?”

“Shockingly ordinary. There are millions of them.”

“Now you’re exaggerating!”

“Yes, because you’re asking such a damn stupid question!”

“Now, now, you mustn’t swear!” said Vanja.

Tamlin’s cheeky eyes gleamed. “That’s something you’ve taught me.”

“Yes, you’re right. But how did you end up in my room?”

He corrected her. “In your house. It was a coincidence that it was in your room. It was only because there was a suitable cupboard here. No one reckoned that you would be able to see me. Who the hell are you anyway?”

“I’m not telling you. How did you end up in this house?”

Tamlin said: “I shan’t tell you. If you’re going to keep secrets, so can I!”

“Let’s trade secrets, shall we?” asked Vanja.

Tamlin measured her up. “No. I mustn’t tell anyone anything. But, of course, you can tell me your secret.”

“Oh, thank you. Why aren’t you allowed to say anything?”

Tamlin grew angry and poked his small, evil face right up into hers. “Because I have a task, you old cow!”

“I’m not an old cow, I haven’t yet turned twelve!”

They stared at one another, prepared to fight. Vanja knew she would lose anyway, so she gave in.

She got up and left. There was no denying it – she had become so attached to her room-mate that she no longer found him ugly. He had begun to grow some hair on his head, stiff green hair, which she would soon need to cut. What would he say to that? He was naughty all the time, but somehow Vanja sensed that he accepted her. He regarded her as an ally, a playmate he could tease and be cruel to.

Vanja took great care that her family didn’t discover anything, because she was afraid that somebody would take Tamlin away. He wasn’t to take an interest in anybody else in the family because he was her little imp. She enjoyed taking care of him, with a nicely made doll’s bed, a mirror in which to admire himself – which he liked a lot – clean trousers and his hair neatly brushed. Now and then, he would be infuriated by her attentions and strike the hairbrush or bite her hand so that it nearly bled. He was never nice to her. Even when Vanja was trying to make him look smart, she couldn’t help feeling that this small child had devilry on his mind, or let her carry on only because he got something out of it. Of course, he would stretch her kindness to the utmost, but Vanja let it happen because she loved to have somebody to spoil. He liked to talk. Or rather, he loved to tease her in order to see how far he could go with his bad manners. He was at his happiest when he made her cry.

They were like chalk and cheese: one full of goodness, the other quite the opposite. But it seemed to work, because it was what both of them wanted; each was allowed to develop his and her qualities in the way they wanted.

Vanja’s family couldn’t help finding her quite entertaining. She tended to spend most of her time at home and was no longer so keen to play with other children.

“What on earth is she up to?” Agnete laughed one day as Vanja went into her room with a book under her arm. “Now she’s passionate about reading about demons. She reads everything she can lay her hands on on the subject.”

“Demons,” scoffed Henning. “Perhaps she was too young when we told her the history of the Ice People? But then, all the children of the Ice People more or less drink it in with their mother’s milk.”

“She took an enormous interest. She insisted on reading some of it herself, which she has. I suppose she wants to know a bit more about Tula’s demons now.”

“Yes, she’s strange! She isn’t all she makes herself out to be. She’s certainly not a delicate piece of porcelain. Oh, the Voldens are on their way – we’d better start celebrating your birthday!”

Agnete smiled. “Everything’s ready. I’m quite prepared to receive gifts!”

Henning and his second wife, Agnete, were happily married. In her anguish she had turned to him when she was pregnant with Vanja. Or, more precisely, it was he who had asked permission to take care of her. She had never regretted that she had accepted his offer. Friendship and affection can turn into love.

When everybody was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for the joint to be ready, Henning said casually, with his eyes fixed on the festive table in the adjoining dining room: “I had a horrible dream last night.”