Between the Shadow and the Soul (26 page)

The branches in the furnace crackled and spread their heat in the room. Nela was aware that her surroundings were getting warmer, but somehow it didn’t permeate her skin. Inside she was colder than she’d ever been.

She glanced at her trembling hands, at their white color, and then the blood stains sprang into her vision once more and revulsion overcame her. She leaped up and started tearing at her belt and jeans, wanting to get them off. To get this feeling of being covered in blood off. The gasps returned, the tightness in her chest, the panic.

“Let me.” Darko pushed her jittering hands away and loosened her belt and pulled down her jeans. She leaned on his shoulder as she stepped out of them. There was a hole in her calf and then the pain flooded her, shot up her leg and up her spine.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were shot?” Darko pushed her down on the sofa and examined the wound. Nela stared at him with a strange sort of detachment. How could she have forgotten about being shot? Why hadn’t she felt the pain? Maybe because it was nothing compared to the agony of losing her parents. Maybe it was exactly what she deserved for failing them.

Darko turned her leg slightly and pressed his fingertips into the skin around the wound. Nela jerked from the pain but didn’t try to pull away. Her pale skin contrasted starkly with the red of the blood dripping from her shot wound.

“The bullet went cleanly through your calf. You’re lucky it didn’t hit any important arteries,” Darko said.

“Lucky,” she repeated, then she choked on a laugh, and for a moment she feared she would burst into actual laughter. Darko regarded her with bottomless dark eyes, then he went to pick up a satchel and pulled out a vial. “With a wound like this, I’ll need the help of a herbal tincture. It’ll sting a bit, okay?”

She stared into his eyes, trying to anchor herself in their darkness. Did he really think she cared? She knew, as well as he did, that the Brotherhood would hunt her now. And when they caught her, they’d probably torture and kill her, like they’d done with her parents, but she couldn’t bring herself to care or to be scared. She was numb; hollow where her heart should have been.

She winced, couldn’t stop her body from doing so, when Darko carefully applied the tincture on her calf. “Why didn’t you tell me you were shot?”

“I’d forgotten,” Nela said. He wrapped his palms around her calf with a strained expression on his face. “I want it to heal the human way.”

His head shot up. “Nela, you being in pain won’t bring your parents back. It wasn’t your fault, so stop punishing yourself. If you want to blame someone, blame the Brotherhood.” He resumed his treatment of her wound and slowly the bullet holes began closing up but then the healing stopped. The wounds were still about half an inch deep but they’d ceased bleeding. Darko glared at them. “I don’t know if there’s going to be a scar. I’m not good at this. The rest will hopefully heal thanks to the tincture.”

 She didn’t bother telling him that she didn’t give a damn. She wiggled her fingers; they were cold and stiff. Darko took them in his hands. “You’re freezing.” He glanced at the blazing fire in the stove. “You should lie down and rest. Your body needs to heal.” He helped her get up and she limped toward the bed. It was a funny thing that suddenly every step hurt but earlier she’d actually forgotten she’d even been shot. Why couldn’t her body use that same trick again and make her forget today ever happened?

Darko made her lie down and covered her with a blanket. Despite that, and the fire in the stove, and the warm summer sun outside, she felt cold. He handed her another vial with a light red liquid. “It’ll help you sleep.”

She accepted the vial and swallowed its contents in one gulp.

“Things will get easier,” he said, perching on the bed beside her.

“Will they? Did things ever get easier after your sister’s death?”

He looked away. “You’ll learn to live with it.”

“But I don’t want to learn!” she said harshly, her words already slurring. “How can I live with my parents gone? With the Brotherhood hunting me? With a world that hates who I am? What’s left for me?”

Darko rose from the bed. “You should rest.” Then darkness swallowed her world.

Chapter 30

‘W
hat’s left for me?’

He’d asked himself that question so many times in the last few years, and more often than not he’d come up with only one answer: Nothing.

Then he’d found the Master and with him a goal to work toward, a reason to live: saving his sister. And it had become his sole justification for breathing, for existing. It had become the center of who and why he was.

And when he’d finally found the one object that would bring him closer to his goal, that would finally make his life worthwhile, that thing, that
person
brought with her the promise of another reason to live, the promise of something beyond darkness. Of course he couldn’t have one without losing the other.

But that was the past, before Nela had been plunged into darkness, dragged into misery with him. He’d always only brought heartbreak to the people around him and why should it have been any different with her? Maybe this was fate’s way of having him do penance for his sins.

He trailed his fingertips over her hair. Even in sleep her face was filled with sorrow. Losing your family in such a brutal way left you scarred, often a mere shadow of the person you once were.

He called the shadows upon himself, let them wrap around him. There were more than usual around. His eyes found Nela once more and a deep sadness filled him, a sense of loss.

When he pulled his Atlame out of its holder to break through the magical barrier in his Master’s lab, he froze. It was still covered in blood, now dry and dark red like the sweet cherries that had grown in his parents’ garden. The blood didn’t stop it from working. If possible the magical ward fell even faster. His Master used to say that spilled blood made a wizard more powerful, maybe it worked the same way with his Atlame.

The Master wasn’t sitting on his stool as usual. Darko found him lying on his bed, his eyes closed, wrinkled hands folded on his chest. For a brief instant, Darko allowed himself to imagine Master Valentine’s death, and instead of sorrow he felt relief. If the Master was gone, they couldn’t go through with their plan. It would be out of Darko’s hands. Then the Master stirred and directed his cold eyes at Darko. His breathing was raspy and drawn, but he was breathing.

Darko bowed, then approached the bed hesitantly. His Master looked weak and pale. He even struggled to sit up but when Darko reached out to help him, the Master shook off his grip, growling, “Let go of me. I can do this on my own.”

He could do it on his own, but it took him almost two minutes to bring himself into a sitting position and drag his legs out of bed, so they hung limply over the edge of the mattress. Darko knew he could have killed him. The Master was too weak to defend himself. He could have ended it all in this moment. He could have saved Nela…and doomed his sister.

“Are you alright?” Darko asked.

“Does it look like I’m alright?” The Master glowered up at him. Almost all of his hair had fallen out and age spots covered great parts of his hands and face. “I heard what happened today.”

Darko sank down on the stool, even though the Master hadn’t invited him to. He felt bone tired despite it being only early afternoon. “Her parents got killed.”

Master Valentine watched him like a hawk. There was something in his expression that made Darko nervous. “I told you that your plan was unlikely to succeed. The odds were against you.”

“Did you also hear that Wicca was there? Nela’s father must have asked them for help.”

“Yes. Very unusual for them to support our kind in such an obvious breach of the law. The Brotherhood will be even more vigilant in the future and Wicca will be hunted, no doubt. A high risk. I wonder what they were promised in return.”

“Maybe they were just doing what they thought was right,” Darko said. The Master cackled, then coughed. “People are rarely altruistic. It’s not in our nature.”

Darko wasn’t so sure that was true. On the other hand life had taught him that his Master was right. Even love wasn’t altogether altruistic. People didn’t want to be alone.

“I have to say I was quite angry when I heard about the outcome of this day. It made me realize how close I’d come to losing not only you, but also our medium. This foolish plan could have ruined everything.”

“But we didn’t die. Nela is fine. Physically at least.”

“I’m fading fast,” Master Valentine said. “Summer solstice is one week away. I fear I won’t last much longer. But after the girl’s sacrifice I’ll be restored to my full health.”

“She lost her parents. She went through so much. She’s broken. How can we use her like that?” How can we kill her, he added in his mind. Even if he couldn’t admit it to Master Valentine, deep down he knew he didn’t want to lose her.

The Master hauled himself up and shuffled toward Darko. He put a hand on Darko’s shoulder. “As you said, she’s broken. Do you really want to see her like that? Do you want to go through the same thing again? See her wilt and fade away until she ends it herself. You know it’ll happen. It did with your sister. And Nela has a disposition for darkness and depression. All necromancers have, it’s what makes them so perfect for communicating with the dead.”

“But maybe I could help her. Maybe I could stop her from spiraling out of control.”

The Master’s fingers dug into Darko’s skin before he loosened his grip and patted him. “You couldn’t help your sister, even though she was your blood. Nela’s only a girl you’ve known for a few months, how can you expect to get through to her? In the end you’ll lose not only her but also your sister, and your guilt over having betrayed your own family would kill you.”

 It would definitely annihilate him if he lost them both.

“It’ll be a kindness to Nela to release her from this existence now that she’s lost everything that matters to her. It’ll be a relief. I’m sure she would gladly give her life to save your sister. And her grief will be a powerful draw for the demon.”

Darko nodded. “She won’t suffer?”

The Master shook his head with what was probably supposed to be a fatherly expression, but in all the time Darko had known the man he’d never perceived him as anything close to family.

“The girl’s desperation will be to our advantage. The demon will use her energy to allow him passage into this world before he tethers himself to me. The darker her emotions, the stronger her necromancing will be to the surface and the faster the process will be. She’ll be gone before she knows what’s happening. She won’t feel any pain, only sweet oblivion.” The Master paused to put his second hand on Darko’s other shoulder. He smelled like something stale and rotten, as if his body had already started decaying. “Once I have the power of the demon at my hands, I’ll bring your sister back. Then you can finally make everything right.”

“You never told me how exactly you’re going to bring her back. Her body will be too far gone to use, won’t it?”

The Master drew back and took a few sips from the vial with ox blood. “Don’t you worry. I’ll make her a healthy, new body. You’ll never know that she was dead.” His face became business-like. “So everything is ready?”

Darko knew the question was mostly if he was ready. “Yes.”

“The girl will have to enter the pentagram willingly. For that night only I’ll remove the magical barriers, so you can materialize where I need you. The girl needs to be aware that harm could come to her, but she doesn’t need to know the details.”

Darko wondered dimly how the Master had expected him to lure Nela into the lab knowing that she could get harmed without her feelings for him. Or maybe Master Valentine had foreseen that Darko and Nela would fall in love. Shock shot through him. Love?

“Nela trusts me. She’ll follow me wherever I want to go. She’s selfless. She won’t mind being in harm’s way if it means helping me.” He wondered if that feeling of being the lowest creature on earth, the most disgusting monster in existence would fade once he was reunited with his sister.

“Good. Now leave. I need to rest,” the Master said already turning his back to him.

Darko returned to his apartment. For a long while he stood beside the stove, unable to go anywhere near Nela who was still lying sprawled across his bed. She was mumbling in her sleep. Slowly, he approached her. She lay on her side, her lips parted and face tear-streaked.

He lowered himself beside her and pressed his hand against her cheek. She was warm and soft, and he would take that from her. She whimpered and twisted in the sheet. But it would be for the best, as the Master had said.

Chapter 31

N
ela stared into the flames. They’d destroyed most of the wood and left only ashes behind. She wondered what the Brotherhood had done to her parents’ bodies. Had they burnt them and buried their ashes somewhere she’d never know? She’d wanted to visit the Melaten cemetery to see if new graves had been added to the part where convicted witches were buried anonymously, but Darko had refused to let her leave his apartment. He’d gone instead but returned very quickly and told her that the cemetery was untouched. Her parents hadn’t wanted to be cremated, but witches who were in the hands of the Brotherhood were always subjected to fire to burn the evil out of them.

Nela shuddered. Sometimes it seemed as if she was never going to be warm again. Darko was constantly putting more logs into the stove and she could tell that it was too warm for him. He was running around in only a thin t-shirt and still sweating. Not surprising considering it was June and 70°F outside.

The neighbors probably thought they’d lost their mind, heating in the middle of summer. Slowly she walked up to the window. The sun was shining and people were mingling on the streets in colorful summer clothes, eating ice cream and enjoying themselves.

Maybe losing her parents had turned her into a real necromancer. Maybe that was why she felt so dead.

Darko came out of the bathroom, his hair still wet and not wearing a shirt. She’d noticed that he hurried with his showers and with pretty much everything that meant they weren’t together. He kept a constant eye on her like a mother-hen protecting her chicks. He was worried that she’d kill herself. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about it in the first couple of days after her parents had died, but now six days had gone by and she’d decided that it would be a too easy way out for her. She deserved to suffer after she’d failed to save them.

Darko was watching her with that look again, with blatant relief upon seeing that she hadn’t sliced open her wrists. Droplets of water trailed down his face and landed on his chest, but he didn’t take his eyes off her. There was a look in them that she couldn’t place. Somehow she knew he could peel away the layers of her skin and see into the abyss that had been her heart once. If someone knew what it meant to lose and to suffer, then it was Darko. A single droplet trailed over the cross burnt into the skin over his breastbone.

She touched the rough skin. It was the size of her palm and still red. “Why did you never heal it?” He probably meant for it to be a reminder of the day his parents died.

He cupped her hands. “Would you?”

She shook her head. She almost wished she had something similar, something visible to show for the loss she’d suffered. “I feel like I’m dead.”

His grip tightened. “But you aren’t.”

“Sometimes I wish I were,” she whispered. “What’s the use of living if you don’t feel alive?”

She expected him to say ‘It’ll pass’ like he’d done shortly afterward, but he didn’t. Instead he stared intently out of the window. “There’s a place I want to show you. I used to go there after my sister died.”

“Okay,” she said. He pulled a black shirt over his head and slipped into black sneakers. When she’d first met him, she hadn’t understood his need to dress in black all the time. He stuffed a backpack with a blanket, water bottles, apples and pre-made sandwiches. “Ready?” he asked with the hint of a smile.

She grabbed her jacket, took his hand and let him pull her against him. She would have to ask him about traveling by shadow later. She was certain that she could have done it by herself after everything.

They appeared at the edge of a forest that bordered on a small lake. Across from them ragged rocks rose up like crooked teeth. Nela had seen photos of them before. “The Extern Stones,” Darko said as he led her around the lake. The stones were reflected in the water and flickered whenever a fish broke the surface to snatch up a water strider. “Witches used to celebrate Summer Solstice here.”

“It’s tomorrow, June 21
^st
, right?” Nela said, her eyes traveling up the stones that were thirty times her height.

“Yeah.”

“Why is nobody here?”

“Because it’s a place where witches used to celebrate. The people from the surrounding villages fear the powers of this place and witches shun it because of how it might make them look in the eyes of the Brotherhood.”

“They’re hunting us anyway,” Nela said with a shrug. Darko led her toward a smaller stone, still twenty times her height, which was connected to the highest stone by an arched bridge.

A staircase was chiseled into the stone. “It’s called Stair Rock,” Darko explained as they ascended the steps that hugged the rock. When they reached the top, the iron bridge appeared in front of them. They crossed it toward what Darko called the Tower Rock. An open chamber had been pounded into the rock, with an arched altar on one side. In its center was a stone basin and above it a round hole that let the sun through. Markings had been scratched into and painted onto the stone all over the altar.

“Only around summer solstice sun rays fall through the opening,” Darko said with a nod toward the hole over the basin. Nela led her gaze sweep over the green landscape and surrounding rocks. Up here she could almost believe she and Darko were the only people left in this world. Her pulse pounded in her veins from the ascend and she felt almost alive, as if her body could see past the emptiness inside if she just exerted it enough.

Darko spread the blanket out on the ground and set their food out. Nela sank down beside him. She accepted the sandwich he handed her and ate it in small bites, taking gulps of water in between to wash it down. Despite the sunshine, Nela felt the familiar cold creep back into her, the familiar hollowness. She pushed her hands into her pockets to keep them warm when her fingers brushed against glass. She glanced at Darko who watched her with sad eyes. Misery was a part of them both, and step by step it was swallowing them up. She removed the vial Mikael had given her and drowned it in one gulp before she crawled over to Darko and into his lap.

“Nela?” Confusion rang in his tone but she silenced him with her lips. She pressed herself against him, savoring the heat of his mouth, the thrumming of his pulse under her fingertips when she trailed them over his throat. Her hands found their way under his shirt, exploring his warm skin, the soft trail of hair under his bellybutton. He felt alive and warm, everything she was not, everything she yearned for. He’d been with her in her darkest hours. Somehow she was certain he’d be with her till the bitter end.

She wanted him. Wanted him to make her feel alive. To make her forget.

He held back, his hands lightly resting on her lower back, barely there. He pulled away a few inches, enough for him to speak. “Nela, what—”

She interrupted him. “I want you.”

‘I need you’ was what she didn’t say.

His brows wrinkled. “Are you—”

Her mouth collided with his, almost painfully. He needed to stop talking. She didn’t want to think about this, about anything. She wanted to
be,
right this second. “I am.”

“But—”

“Darko.” She didn’t bother hiding her despair. And then his lips were back on hers, no longer hesitant, as if he’d finally shed whatever doubt had clung to him. Her lips felt raw and hot from the fierceness of their kiss. She pulled his shirt over his head, kissed his scars and the smooth skin around them. He pushed her to the ground. The stone was hard and cold against her back, but when Darko’s lips found her collarbone and his hands slipped under her shirt she was burning up inside.

There was something desperate in his touch, something reverent, something final. His movements spoke of experience, but she didn’t care. He was hers now. That was all that mattered. When he gazed down at her, his body warm against hers, his lips so close they shared the same breath, she felt alive and she hoped this feeling would last forever.