Shadows of Helvete

Chapter 11

"Varg!" Euronymous called out, abandoning his task and striding toward the newcomer with a handshake and a pat on the back.

Varg. Emilie's eyes narrowed slightly. Varg? I thought I remembered his name was Kristian, Emilie thought to herself.

"Euronymous," Varg replied in a soft, almost serene voice, his gaze shifting to Emilie. "And who's this?"

Euronymous glanced over his shoulder at Emilie, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "This is Emilie. She's been helping me with the store and the label. Emilie, this is Varg. He's been hanging around more lately. He's name used to be Kristian but for obvious reasons... he changed it." That made a lot more sense to Emilie now.

Varg smiled—though there was something in his eyes that made Emilie pause. The smile didn't reach his gaze, and instead of feeling warm, it left her with an odd sense of discomfort. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something off.

"Nice to meet you, Varg," she said, her voice polite but guarded. She extended her hand, and he shook it lightly, his grip cold and firm.

"Likewise," Varg replied, his voice so calm it was almost eerie.

"You want a beer?" Emilie offered, motioning toward the small fridge in the corner where they kept drinks for themselves and the occasional customer. It was an innocent gesture, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she saw Varg's expression change slightly—just a flicker, like a shadow passing over his face.

"No, thank you," Varg said, his tone neutral but firm. "I don't drink. And I don't eat meat, either."

Emilie raised an eyebrow but kept her reaction to herself. Well, that's interesting. Like Hitler, she thought privately, her eyes involuntarily flicking to Euronymous. It wasn't unusual for people in their circle to have strong opinions about various things, but something about Varg's tone rubbed her the wrong way.

Euronymous noticed the moment of awkwardness but didn't seem phased. He shrugged casually, gesturing toward the store. "Varg has some... unique views. But we see eye to eye on a lot of things. Similar values."

Varg smiled again, this time with a bit more warmth. "I'm all about purity, preserving tradition, and honoring the old ways."

Emilie nodded, though a cold knot tightened in her stomach. There was something unnerving about the way he spoke. It wasn't that his words were extreme compared to some of the people who came through Helvete. She was used to dark philosophies, violence, and rebellion. But Varg—he seemed different. Almost too calculated. His calm demeanor felt like a mask, hiding something far darker beneath the surface.

"How long have you been hanging out here?" Emilie asked, trying to keep the conversation light and gauge him a bit more.

"Not long," Varg replied. "But long enough to know this is where I'm supposed to be. Euronymous and I... we share a vision for what true Norwegian black metal should be. What it represents."

Euronymous clapped him on the shoulder. "He's got the right ideas. Real commitment. And he's making music too—Burzum, he calls it. We just started working on his album."

"Oh, I've heard of Burzum," Emilie said, forcing herself to remain neutral. She wasn't sure how she felt about Varg yet, but it was clear he was becoming a fixture around Helvete.

As the afternoon wore on, Varg stayed, engaging in quiet conversation with Euronymous, his eyes flicking to Emilie now and then. He didn't say much to her directly, but she could feel his presence, always lingering, watching. She tried to focus on her work—organizing the shelves, helping customers—but Varg's strange, disquieting energy followed her around the store.

Later that evening, after Varg had left, Emilie found herself alone with Euronymous. The store was quiet, the last few customers having trickled out, leaving just the two of them amidst the dimly lit racks of vinyls and cassette tapes. Euronymous was leaning against the counter, watching her as she worked.

"You're more dedicated than I thought you'd be," Euronymous said, breaking the silence while his eyes meeting hers. "I figured after... well, everything, you wouldn't want to be part of this anymore. But you've stuck around."

"I didn't really have a choice," Emilie replied, wiping her hands on a rag. "I needed a job. And... I needed a place to stay."

"Is that all?" Euronymous asked, his gaze sharpening.

Emilie hesitated, then shrugged. "At first, yeah. But now..." She trailed off, unsure of what to say. The truth was, part of her felt drawn back into this world—back to the familiar faces, the music, the energy that had once been her entire life. And despite everything that had happened between them, she was beginning to see Euronymous in a different light.

They weren't friends—not exactly—but there was something between them. A shared history, a complicated connection that she couldn't fully untangle.

"You and Varg seem... close," Emilie said, changing the subject. She couldn't shake the strange feeling he gave her.

Euronymous shrugged. "He's got potential. He's serious about this. About what we're building."

"He's... a bit odd," Emilie commented, choosing her words carefully.

"He is," Euronymous agreed, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But he is commited, and that is just what we need. The scene—it's about pushing boundaries, about taking things further than anyone else. Varg understands that."

Emilie bit her lip, unsure of how to respond. She still couldn't shake the unease she felt around Varg, but she trusted Euronymous—at least more than she had in the past. If he thought Varg was worth bringing into the fold, she would have to trust his judgment.

"Just be careful," she said softly, almost to herself.

Euronymous raised an eyebrow. "Careful?"

"With Varg. He seems like someone who could... I don't know. Go too far."

Euronymous let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Emilie, that's the whole point. We're all going too far."

Over the next few weeks, Varg's presence at Helvete became even more frequent, and Emilie found herself watching him with a mix of curiosity and wariness. He was always polite to her, always calm, but there was an underlying intensity to him that made her skin crawl.

Meanwhile, Emilie and Euronymous continued to grow closer. Their conversations, once filled with tension and resentment, had started to shift. They could talk about music, about the future of the label, and even about their shared memories without the weight of the past dragging them down.

One night, as they closed up the shop together, Euronymous handed her a stack of records. "You've been doing great work. I don't say that often."

Emilie smirked, taking the records from him. "I'll take that as high praise."

"It is," Euronymous replied, his tone serious. "You're good at this. Better than I expected."

Emilie felt a warmth in his words, an acknowledgment that things were different now between them. They weren't exactly friends—there was still too much history, too much unresolved pain—but they were something. Maybe that was enough for now.

As they locked up the store, Emilie glanced at the darkening sky outside, her thoughts drifting to the strange, unsettling presence of Varg. Whatever was happening in their world, she had a feeling things were about to get darker.