The Devil's Sanctuary by Marie Hermanson Page B

sloping meadows and forests. The mountainside above was steep and bare, covered with fallen debris that made it look like a huge gravel quarry.
    On the other side of the valley there was no slope. The mountain rose vertically like a wall in a very peculiar way. A road clung to the mountainside, and Daniel could see a van driving along in the distance. Of course, that was the road he had arrived on the day before. And that was the rock face that had been covered with moss and ferns.
    Max was cycling ahead of him, leaning forward as if he were in a race. Every now and then he looked back and smiled at Daniel. He had a beautiful smile, with white teeth and masculine bone structure. He looks handsome, Daniel thought, then realized at the same moment that he himself ought to look handsome as well. As identical twins, they had an opportunity denied to most people: seeing themselves from every angle. From behind, and in profile, and speeding on a bicycle. It was quite different from looking in a mirror and seeing yourself the wrong way round, right and left reversed, observer and observed at the same time.
    So that’s what I look like without a beard, Daniel thought and immediately decided to shave his beard off as soon as he got home. (He looked ten years older with it, he had once been told by a blunt female colleague.)
    The beard had its own story. Daniel had started to let it grow when he was nineteen years old, and he could remember the circumstances and reason very well.
    He had been in London visiting Max, who was living in a sublet apartment in Camden. His brother had been an attentive host, taking him out on the town.
    When Daniel bought a rude T-shirt from a market, he hardly had time to pay before Max bought one just like it and put it on. Daniel hadn’t wanted to, but Max had insisted that they both wear their T-shirts, so he had reluctantly agreed. Max had his arm round Daniel’s shoulders and laughed whenever people looked at them and pointed. Daniel had felt uncomfortable, as if their similarity were some sort of defect.
    They reached a street lined with pubs and restaurants. Daniel wanted to go into one that looked interesting, but Max had led them instead into another pub that was big, smoky, and noisy, where they were showing soccer on wide-screen televisions.
    While Daniel jostled at the bar with Max and his friends, he caught sight of a girl sitting at a table and eating alone. She was platinum blond, thin, almost transparent somehow, like milky glass. There was something about the way she moved, the way she raised her fork, looking straight ahead without actually focusing on anything. Something determined, self-aware, almost aggressive.
    Max noticed his interest at once.
    “Bet you she’s Swedish,” he hissed close to Daniel’s face. It was hard to make yourself heard in there. The televisions were at full volume and the clientele were shouting and yelling in response to the match.
    “There are loads of Swedes here, you can spot them at a glance. And I’ll bet you something else.” Max leaned even closer, so that their noses were almost touching. His eyes were twinkling from intoxication, beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, and he had bad breath. “She’s a virgin.”
    Then Max’s friends had wanted to move on somewhere else, but Daniel didn’t want to go with them.
    “You go,” he said to Max. “I’m going to stay here a bit longer.”
    Once they had gone he went over to the girl’s table and asked if he could sit down. She was eating fish and chips. It looked greasy and unappetizing, but she was gamely struggling through mouthful after mouthful.
    “Are you actually enjoying that?” Daniel asked in Swedish.
    “Oh yes, I really…,” she began to say in a tense voice, then stopped herself. “You’re Swedish! Well, er, no, not really. But I’m trying.”
    She was an au pair for a family with three children. She had graduated from high school that spring, from the science program,