Between the Shadow and the Soul (11 page)

“It’s not about the cat,” she said almost angrily, then paused and pressed her fingertips against the floor. Her fingertips came away with fresh blood.

Darko was confused. He got up, needing something to occupy his hands with. He took the flasks of salt and holy water from his coat, then sprinkled them on the blood stain. He whispered the Latin incantation and the blood disappeared but the wood was smoother and a bit faded where the spell had worked its magic. He fetched a wet towel from the small bathroom and cleaned Nela’s fingers with it. He’d found out that human skin was better dealt with the human way. When he was done, they both knelt beside each other in silence. He wasn’t sure what to say. She was still staring at the place where the blood had been, then back at her hands. Maybe he should try to hug her. That was what people did, what he would have done with his sister, but Nela wasn’t his sister and he was already taking a risk by spending so much time with her.

The silence was starting to grate on his nerves when she finally spoke again. “Seeing the cat suffer was horrible.”

Darko frowned. “I thought you said this wasn’t about the cat…”

She gave him a look that said he was an idiot. Then she closed her eyes and her face crumbled. “It’s unnatural, what I did. It’s wrong. I’m wrong.”

“No, you’re not,” he said firmly, reaching out for her hand but pulling back before he came into contact with her skin. “Necromancers are one of the most powerful members of our kind.”

“And the most feared.”

“Don’t let the foolishness of others ruin this for you.”

“Ruin this for me?” Nela struggled to her feet. “You make it sound as if it is reason to celebrate. You don’t get it. I don’t want to be able to do this. I want to forget I ever did it. This was a huge mistake. I shouldn’t have come here.” She grabbed her coat and put it on, but her hands were shaking too much to button it.

Panic clutched Darko’s chest. He brushed her hands away, stopping her from fumbling with her buttons. She looked up at him through her thick lashes. “I’m sorry. If I’d known this would upset you, I wouldn’t have done it. I just thought it would be good to know the extend of your magical abilities.” It was a fat lie, but he was a good liar.

“But why? Why did you even consider that I was a necromancer? There are so few of them. What were the chances?” She shook her head and dropped her arms, her hands slipping out of his. He hadn’t even realized he’d still been holding them in place.

“I had a hunch. Something about you made me think it was worth a try.”

Her eyes seemed to bore right through him, but his mask was firm in place. “A hunch?”

He opened his mouth for a more elaborate lie when something clanked against the window, making them both jump.

Chapter 12

“W
hat’s that?” Nela whispered.

Darko approached the window and unsheathed his Atlame, then relaxed when he spotted the gray pigeon perching on the window sill. He quickly returned his knife to its holder. The bird smashed its beak against the window, its small eyes fixing Darko with a glare that was too human.

He unlocked the window and the pigeon fluttered inside and landed on the table.

“Why did you let the pigeon in?” Nela asked with a hint of panic in her voice. “You’re not going to kill it too, are you?”

“I told you, I didn’t kill the cat,” he said in annoyance but then he saw the anxiety on Nela’s face. She was scared. “The pigeon won’t die anytime soon, believe me. It’s carrying a message from my Master.”

Nela’s eyes darted to the small roll of parchment attached to one of the pink legs of the bird. “Your Master?”

He walked up to the bird and removed the roll of parchment to buy himself some time. How much should he tell her? She was already suspicious. “Yes. I’ve been working for him for years now.”

“But why do you call him Master? And what are you doing for him?”

Darko turned the parchment in his hands. “It’s what you call an older wizard you’re apprenticed to. It’s a matter of respect. He’s very old. I get supplies for him and help him with his potions. He found me when I was half starved and close to death. He gave me a new purpose.”

He could see on her face that she wanted to ask more questions. He lowered his gaze to the parchment in his hands and opened it. The words materialized before his eyes.

Bring me another heart. Tonight.

Nela stood on her tiptoes to look at the letter. “It’s empty,” she said in confusion.

Darko forced a smile. “It’s enchanted so only I can read it.”

“What does he want?”

“He needs me to get something for him.”

“Now? Everything’s closed.”

“Not the places I frequent.”

Nela kept staring at the gray pigeon. “Why a pigeon? Why not a raven or something more witchy?”

Darko felt a laugh bubble up his throat. “More witchy?”

Her lips twitched but the tension didn’t leave her body. She kept her distance to the pigeon as if she thought it might drop dead and then rise again if she got too close.

Darko had asked his Master exactly the same question a long time ago. “Nobody pays attention to a dirty city pigeon. There are ten thousands of them in Cologne, probably more. It’s a safe way to transport a message.”

She nodded absentmindedly, her eyes straying back to the place where the dead cat had been decapitated. His mind was whirling with things to say, with ways to make her see how lucky she was. “Being a Necromancer is a good thing, Nela, honestly. Soon you’ll realize it too.” The pigeon flew out of the window, apparently tired of waiting for him to give it the okay to leave. Nela nodded, but didn’t look at him. “I should go home now. You have work to do for your Master.” Her lips tightened at the word.

“We still have time. My Master won’t mind.” That was another lie. He was piling them up tonight. Not that he’d expected anything else.

Nela took a step back, toward the door. “No. I should really leave now.” She turned and hurried out of his apartment and down the stairs. He ran after her. This evening wasn’t going how he’d expected. He’d thought she’d be excited to find out what she was capable of. He would have been, but she never acted how he expected her to. She was a mystery to him. “Wait!” he called, his voice echoing in the hallway. Nela stopped with her hand on the handle of the front door. It was too dark for him to make out her face. But her eyes reminded him of a hunted animal.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“I guess so.”

He stepped closer, hoping to get a better look at her face, but for once she was giving nothing away. “Are
we
okay?”

“We?” Now a frown tugged at her brows.

“You’re not thinking about quitting, right? There’s much more magic out there than what you saw today. We don’t have to discuss what happened tonight ever again.”

It wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted, he needed her to improve her abilities so she could try bringing back his sister. That way he’d be free of his Master and she wouldn’t have to die. But he couldn’t tell her that.

She was staring at him, not moving, not blinking. “No, I’m not thinking about quitting. I need to learn how to control my magic. Now more than ever.”

She opened the door and a wave of freezing air came in. She sucked in a deep breath before she walked out and grabbed a bike that leaned against the house wall. “Do you want me to accompany you?”

She mounted the bike, then shook her head with a humorless smile. “I don’t need a protector. I have my pepper spray.” She swallowed. “And maybe I’m capable of more scary shit if someone attacks me. Who knows?”

She pushed off and drove past him without a word of goodbye. He ran a hand through his hair. “Damn it.” He’d found out what he was supposed to find out and yet this evening felt like a major failure.

***

When Darko returned to his apartment and closed the door, the silence hit him like a sledgehammer. He’d never noticed it so profoundly before.

He sat down on his bed and opened his laptop. As usual it took a while before he could get online. He logged into one of the chatrooms he frequented when he needed fresh supply for Master Valentine. The moment he entered the chatroom as a thirteen-year-old boy, the perv he’d been chatting with for a couple of weeks was already waiting for him. The man had been pressing for a meeting in their last few chats, but Darko had put him off until the right moment. He could practically feel the eagerness of the asshole now that young Leon had finally agreed to a meeting. He’d get the shock of his life.

Anger swirled in Darko like a thundercloud, growing bigger every second. He was almost looking forward to it. He didn’t enjoy killing, never had, but tonight it might be exactly what he needed, and it was what the asshole deserved. The man had said he was only seventeen, but from their first chat Darko had known it was a lie. The man didn’t talk like a teenage guy and there was something too desperate, too eager in his words. Darko had enough experience with men like him. And if he was indeed mistaken and his date wasn’t a pedophile, he’d have to improvise.

Darko gathered the shadows around himself and let them carry him to a side alley near the main station. He’d been traveling too often by shadow in the last few weeks and he could tell that the darkness he’d locked away deeply inside resurfaced a bit more every time. He was feeling exhausted and his nights were haunted by nightmares, worse than they’d been in months.

He gritted his teeth and walked toward the end of the alley; from there he could see the bus stop where they were supposed to meet. A few junkies were sitting on a bench a few steps from the stop, but they wouldn’t remember anything. They were lost souls, like so many of the women and men strolling the streets around the main station looking for a john who didn’t have high expectations or who enjoyed to use those that were at the very bottom. You could get pretty much anything for money. If you were a cold hearted bastard and good at bargaining, you could buy a woman’s body for less than € 30. Without protection. A wave of anger crashed over Darko. There were so many people out there benefiting from the misery of others.

He noticed a car parking at the curb close to the bus stop. It was a no-parking zone and the car was far too nice to be here by accident. A Mercedes E-class, not the newest model, but well-kept. The man wore a white baseball cap like he’d said he would. Of course he hadn’t said anything about a car – especially since he was supposedly not of age to drive one.

Darko had two options. He could walk up to the car, slip in and force the man to drive him to an abandoned street, but there was the risk of the man freaking out or that one of the junkies wasn’t as far gone as Darko hoped they were. They would remember him. Or he could disguise himself as the boy he’d pretended to be. It was complicated magic and took lots of energy. It wasn’t Darko’s forte. His strength lay in the dark spells, the one that fed on anger and despair.

But magic that only changed the image the world perceived of him, that took positive energy and he had little left of it. He needed a good memory, something that gave him hope. An image of his family, their last Christmas together popped into his mind. It was January 7
^th
, the day when orthodox Christians in Yugoslavia celebrated Christmas. His sister was laughing. His father was breaking Cesnica, the traditional Christmas bread, into four pieces, one for each of them. Darko bid into it and his teeth hit something hard. He grinned and pulled the coin out that his mother had baked into the bread. It meant he would have good luck.

Bitterness clogged Darko’s throat. If he’d known luck would mean he’d be the sole survivor of his family in a few years time, he’d have burnt it. No, those thoughts wouldn’t bring enough positive energy for the complicated magic. Everything from his past was laced with sadness and fury.

 He needed something recent. Something that had given him a flicker of happiness. An image of Nela entered his mind, her amber eyes narrowed as they so often were around him. That was it. Finding her meant hope. She was what he needed. What the Master needed. He focused on that tiny ball of hope deep in him and worked on his appearance. He wasn’t actually changing anything about his body, but whoever looked at him would only see the projection Darko wanted them to see. He only managed to smooth his skin and remove his beard stubble, but that made him look fifteen, definitely not thirteen. It would have to do.

He turned up the collar of his coat and walked up to the car, making sure he appeared unsure and a bit lost. He opened the car door and slipped in.

“Leon?” the man asked.

“Yeah,” Darko said in what he hoped was a young voice. There was no chance he could change that too.

The man didn’t turn the ignition, though his hand rested on the key. “You’re older than I thought.”

“You too,” Darko said with a bit too much venom. The man stiffened. Damn. Darko moved quickly and pulled his Atlame out of its sheath and pressed its tip against the guy’s balls. “Drive,” he hissed. “Or I’ll castrate you.”

Darko poked the man lightly to drive his point home. The man winced. “Please, what do you want with me? I didn’t mean any harm.”

“Drive.”

He finally turned the key and pulled away from the bus stop. “Follow the street until I tell you to turn left,” Darko instructed.

“I can give you money,” the man pleaded. “I have a lot of it.”

“I don’t need money,” Darko said simply, not taking his knife from the crotch of the guy.

“You all need money. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“We all need money?” Darko asked softly, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his Atlame. “So I’m not the first boy you’ve lured into your car.”

“It’s not like that!” the man protested.

“Turn left.”

“Please.”

“Now!”

The car swerved to the left and they entered a deserted street. “Stop the car.”

Contemplation flickered on the man’s face.

“I won’t repeat myself,” Darko warned. They came to a stop.

“How many boys have you used?”

“I didn’t—”

“How many?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t force them. Many of them approached me. They needed money. I paid well. I never hurt them.”

“This won’t hurt either,” Darko hissed as he plunged his hand into the man’s chest. He always marveled at how easily flesh, sinews, muscles and bones gave way. The man gurgled, eyes wide. Darko’s fingers tightened around the beating heart.

He wondered what Nela would think if she saw him now. She thought of herself as a monster because she could bring back the dead. It had been written all over her face. She’d never been face to face with a monster before or she’d have known she wasn’t one. He’d seen men do monstrous things under the disguise of doing God’s bidding and yet they’d never seen the monster in themselves. They’d seen it in others, even in the innocent. They’d seen it in Darko when he’d been only a wide-eyed boy. He hadn’t been a monster when they’d accused him of being one, but he’d been one after they were done with him. The only difference was that he’d always known he wasn’t doing anyone’s bidding but his own when he’d done all those monstrous things.

The man sucked in his last breath, then sacked forward, his forehead hitting the steering wheel. Darko pulled his hand out, clutching the heart in his palm. He pocketed it before he made the body disappear, then he got out of the car and set it on fire.

***

The Master was even less pleased about the heart of Darko’s newest victim than he’d been about the last. “You don’t listen. You never do,” Master Valentine ranted as he established a magical link between himself and the heart. “I don’t know what to do with you Darko, to finally make you see. I know you’re capable of more. You didn’t have a problem killing innocents in the past.”