Also, I'm sorry, all my Icelandic comes from translation sites, I apologize if there are egregious errors.
Title: Soothsayer, Chapter 7, Part 1.
“Your voice has haunted every inch of my soul since the last time I heard it…my world had been so dark, void of sound and then I heard you sing again—and it exploded.” – Cassandra Giovanni, Finding Perfection
It took for fucking ever to get out of Chicago. Seriously, I don’t know how they even called it all Chicago, it was like, “Oh, the city center!” and then hours’ worth of suburbs before the highway suddenly spit me out into farmland. I could smell the cow shit from here, and it was not lovely. I would stand out like a five-alarm fire in one of these little farming towns, not that I expected the Egilsson family to be on my tail quite yet. Still, Andre was right. I needed to sleep, and that meant I needed to stop for a while. Sören was safe in the trunk—god, and I hated that he was stuffed back in the trunk but there really was no good way to explain the functional equivalent of a corpse to someone if they happened to look inside.