Between the Shadow and the Soul (9 page)

“Usually I don’t need an incantation to travel, but the bar is protect by charms. It’s a sort of password that allows me to enter.”

She blinked a few times until her eyes could take in her surroundings.

They were in an underground chamber with an arched stone ceiling, cobble stone floors and walls. Two massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling and cast their glow on the long room. Due to its length the Chandelier Hall gave the impression of having a low ceiling, but Nela knew it wasn’t the case. She doubted anyone could even reach the light bulbs of the chandeliers with a standard ladder. The ceiling was covered with doors in all shapes – wooden doors, steal doors, arched doors, modern doors with glass windows – all of them had a pentagram painted on them with white chalk. “Why are there doors attached to the ceiling?”

“They are portals. With their help you can bridge great distances in a short time if you have the corresponding pentagram near you.”

“But you drew a pentagram and it worked.”

“Yes, but I drew it on exactly the spot where it needs to be for it to work. We can’t really burn a pentagram into the pavement in the middle of Cologne. Someone would notice. So the corresponding pentagrams all over Cologne and a few neighbor cities have to be drawn anew in the destined spot for every transport and they disappear the moment the creator enters the Chandelier Hall. Most witches prefer this form of travel since it’s harder to be followed.”

“But if the pentagram disappeared after we arrived here, how are we going to get back to your motorcycle?”

“It’s easier leaving the Chandelier Hall than entering it. Don’t worry.”

Finally Nela let her gaze stray over the people sitting at tables around the room. Many of them were watching Nela and Darko with mild interest, probably because they were standing in the middle of the room and not sitting down.

”Come on. Let’s get something to drink.”

Nela followed Darko toward a long bar where an ancient man with only one eye was drying huge mugs. His eyelid over his empty eye socket had been sewed shut. His other eye scanned her from head to toe before switching to Darko. The old man let out a grunt, which seemed to be his way of asking them for their orders. Nela couldn’t see a menu anywhere, but she needn’t have bothered.

“Two Dragonblood,” Darko said.

“It isn’t real blood, right?” she whispered in a rush while the old bartender was busy filling two mugs with a dark, steaming liquid.

“Of course it is.” His dark eyes were dead serious, but then he shook his head with a wry smile. “You really don’t know much about your kind, do you? Did the Brotherhood tell you that witches who were practicing magic drank blood?”

“No, they didn’t.” She glared. “But I wouldn’t put it past
you
to drink blood.”

“Do you? Why?”

“Because you have something dark about you. If there were vampires, you’d be the first I’d peck as one.” She flushed. She’d sounded like an idiot.

“What makes you think there are no vampires?”

“Oh please. I’m not that naive,” she said, accepting the mug the old bartender held out to her.

“We’ll see,” Darko said. Then he led her to a small round table in a corner. Nela glowered at his back before she sat down across from him. She bowed over her mug and took a sniff. It smelled like hot wine punch that her mother always drank on the Cologne Christmas market. She took a sip and her throat felt like it had caught fire. She started coughing. “What’s that?” she spluttered, her eyes watering. Darko took a deep gulp from his own mug as if to taunt her. “It’s mead.”

“This isn’t normal mead,” she said.

“It’s spiced up a bit.” He gave an infuriating shrug, peeled out of his black coat and leaned back in his chair. For the first time since she knew him, he looked close to being relaxed. He wore a thick black wool pullover with a hole in the left sleeve. Before she could tear her gaze away, he noticed. “I don’t care much about clothes.”

She didn’t say anything and instead took another gulp of the Dragon Blood – which burnt less this time. She wished it was the same with her tattoo, but the pain there didn’t seem to become less the more she thought about magic.

“So,” she began uncertainly, letting her eyes wander over the posters that covered the walls. She froze. There was a poster with Witch Riot. They’d given a concert in the Chandelier Hall a couple of weeks ago. Most of the witches and wizards sitting at the tables around Nela looked too old to care about pop music, even if they were protest songs. “Did you go to the concert?”

Darko followed her gaze. “No. I don’t have much free time.”

“What are you doing?”

He twisted the mug in his hand. “I’m working for a wizard.”

That could mean pretty much anything, but Nela could tell that he wouldn’t tell her more tonight. Silence fell over them and Nela took another sip from her mead and read a flyer from a healer who offered her healing magic. The mobile phone number was written on snippets and most of them were gone.

“You’re wrong, you know?”

“Huh?” Nela turned to him. “Wrong about what?”

“About vampires. They still exist. Not in this part of the world of course. They were hunted down long ago. Today they live in remote places. Few have supposedly survived in the solitude of Transilvania. Money nobility that can bribe the police or military to protect them. There are even a couple of werewolf packs in the north of Scandinavia.”

He didn’t look as if he was joking. “Not a pleasant thought that there are vampires out there,” she said, still unsure if she should believe him.

“That’s probably the same thing many humans are saying about us.”

Nela felt the heat rise into her cheeks. She sounded like a prejudiced idiot. “So all the witches and wizards who come here are practicing magic?”

Darko nodded. “Yes. Some more often than others, but people who come here believe that it’s our right to do magic, maybe even our duty.”

“Duty?”

“Like I said, we’re helpless if we forget how to use magic.”

“If we forget to use magic, we’ll be as good as human in the eyes of the Brotherhood. They’ll probably leave us alone if that ever happens.”

Darko snorted. “Do you honestly believe that? No matter what we do nothing will change the fact that we’re tainted, that we are a filthy brood in their eyes. If a child is born into a family of witches, even if the child isn’t magical itself, it’ll be tainted by association. Dirty, flawed, impure. Bad blood can’t be purified by good behavior. Rats don’t carry the black plague today but we still fear them like the devil. We are rats to the Brotherhood. We will
always
be less to the Brotherhood. But the moment we’ll have forgone our ability to do magic completely, they’ll eradicate us from this world. If you believe otherwise, you’re a fool.”

Nela held her breath. Darko’s eyes blazed with anger unwarranted by her simple question. There was so much anger, so much hatred in him. She didn’t think she could ever muster up so much of an emotion. What had happened to make him the way he was? But that was a question she didn’t dare ask now, maybe never. He stared at her for a long time and she was sure his eyes would strike her dead any second. Then he blinked, once, and all of his emotions slipped off his face like water, and left was an eerily calm mask. A few people had turned their way when he’d raised his voice, but they looked away quickly when they caught his eyes. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that.” He hadn’t exactly shouted, but the menace in his voice had given her chills.

“If the people here are all practicing magic, how come none of them have signs of an iron poisoning? Or is there an antidote?”

“Maybe there is, but I’ve never heard about it. Most people have removed the tattoo or never received it in the first place. If you live in the shadows of society, its rules can’t reach you.”

“Do you have a marking?”

“Yes, but not one I received from the Brotherhood,” he said coldly. “Let’s not talk about that. What do you know about witches?”

Nela was taken aback. “I know that magic is hereditary. Only very few children born to magical parents aren’t witches or wizards themselves.” Again his face tightened. She hesitated. She didn’t know much more. “We have our own holidays, but of course we aren’t allowed to celebrate.”

Darko let out a sigh. “Some magic is intuitive. We don’t have to learn it. It comes natural to us. Like your healing magic. You touched the boy in front of the church without meaning to heal him, so I suppose you’re a natural at healing spells.”

Nela shook her head. “I can’t really heal myself. Except for once or twice, but always by accident.”

Darko watched her closely. “Is there any other kind of magic you ever did by accident? Maybe when you were younger? Small children often have more trouble suppressing their magic, they don’t understand that it’s wrong. Only later when we’re old enough to know how cruel the Brotherhood’s grip on us is do we lock our magic into a cage.”

“I don’t think so.” She paused. “Maybe. My parents never talk to me about magic.”

“Maybe you should ask them.”

“I don’t think that would go over well.”

“We don’t really differ between witches with different talents, except for the ability to raise and control the dead.”

“Necromancers?” Nelas asked in awe. “They exist? I thought the Brotherhood had killed them all during WWII as punishment for their cooperation with Hitler.”

“They didn’t all work for Hitler. That’s a lie the Brotherhood spread.”

“But their army of dead almost defeated the Allied Forces.”

“That doesn’t mean all necromancers were involved. But this isn’t a history class. All you need to know is that there are still necromancers around – in hiding of course.”

“The Brotherhood won’t like that.”

“No, they don’t.” Darko cleared his throat. “So have you thought about my offer? Do you want to learn magic?”

“What about my tattoo?”

“It’ll spread if you practice magic. We can’t stop the magic from working unless we remove it. I know someone.” Darko glanced around. “He isn’t here, but I could arrange a meeting if you like.”

“But if someone sees my back, they’ll know what I did. They’d know I was disobeying the Brotherhood and I’ll be punished.” That, and she didn’t trust Darko or his acquaintances. “The tattoo can protect us. If we live by the laws, it’s easy to prove our innocence.”

“But can you live by the laws, hm? You already broke the law once by healing that boy. Are you sure you’ll never do it again? You’ve had the tattoo only for a few weeks, now think about the next decades without ever doing magic. Can you really suppress your need, your want?” His voice had become a whisper. It pulled her in and she knew if she didn’t get a grip on herself she’d agree to his offer.

“The tattoo isn’t all bad. Some witches even wear clothes that show it off.”

Darko scoffed. “Stupidity knows no end. It’s a sign of our slavery!”

“It’s not like the Brotherhood made the law alone. It’s what we all decided on.”
She sounded exactly like her father.

“I was never asked,” Darko said acidly. “And neither were the majority of witches. We were forced into this treaty. It was either agreeing to the tattoo and ban of all magic, or burning at the stake. That isn’t freedom. The Brotherhood forced this upon us. They destroyed who we were. They made a once proud people ashamed of what they are. If I could, I’d kill every single brother and spit on their graves.” He sucked in a breath and squinted down into his empty mug.

Maybe he’d realized he’d gone too far. Saying something like that, even in this surrounding, couldn’t be counted as normal. Nela’s head was buzzing with alcohol and confusion. “Can you please take me home?”

His head shot up, a look of incredulity on his face.

“I…I can’t commit to learning magic,” she said firmly. “Not yet. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

He rose from his chair and pulled his coat on. There was no trace of emotion on his face when he handed her a small white card. “This is my mobile phone number.”

She took it, surprised that he owned one. He didn’t seem to be someone who had many friends to text with. “Send me a message when you change your mind,” he said simply. When, not if. And Nela knew he was probably right. She was kidding herself, if she thought she could spend the rest of her life without magic. There had to be a way to do it without drawing the attention of the Brotherhood. First she needed to talk to her mother.

Chapter 10

T
he Master shook his head, his gnarly fingers white from their grip on the workbench. Darko braced himself for his anger.

“Why are you wasting our time? Maybe she’ll never agree to learn magic. Why do you bother trying to convince that girl of the witch ways? She’s obviously stuck in her little human pretend world. Your only concern right now should be to confirm that she’s a necromancer.  If she doesn’t want to behave like a witch, that’s her problem. We don’t need her to be capable of doing magic, her magical blood is enough for the ritual.”

 Darko held his head low. “I have to gain her trust. I thought you said she’ll have to follow me of her own free will and that requires her trust.”

“Is that the only reason why you took her to the Chandelier Hall for a mug of mead?” Master Valentine asked, eyes sharp like those of a hawk.

Darko furrowed his brows. “Master? You know I only serve our purpose.”

“I was a young man once. I dabbled in love once. There’s a point in every man’s life when he loses his head over a woman. You’ve been alone for a very long time. Be careful that your heart doesn’t trick you. Love is a loser’s game. There’s nothing to gain, only heartbreak.”

“I’m not interested in the girl in that way. I never even considered it. My parents loved each other more than anything and it got them killed. They couldn’t let go of each other; that’s why my sister and I almost died as well. That kind of love is for fools. There’s only one person in this world that I care about and that’s my sister. For her I’m doing this. If I knew it would bring Milena back, I’d kill Nela on the spot.”

The Master watched him for a long time, then he bared his teeth in an attempt at a smile. “It’s a pity that you aren’t a necromancer, Darko. And not because I’d want to use you for our ritual. No. With the hatred that fills you, you could be the most dangerous necromancer to ever walk the earth. A weapon I’d love to employ.”

If I was that powerful, I wouldn’t need you old man, Darko thought but didn’t say it. He averted his eyes before the Master could guess his thoughts and noticed today’s newspaper on the workbench.  A report about the killings committed by witches filled the entire front page.

“Do you think the murders are a wizard’s doing?”

The Master ran a pale finger over the headline reading “Sorcerer hunts humans”. Darko had to suppress a snort. They always used the word sorcerer because they thought it sounded more dangerous than wizard. And what right did they have to claim they were being hunted? For centuries his kind had been hunted by the Brotherhood and their helpers, had been tortured and burnt alive, even children, and now only because a few humans had died they used the word hunt.

The Master sank down on a stool. “I doubt it.”

“Why, Master?”

“From what I hear all the victims are members of Wicca.”

Darko had heard that name before. It was something human so he hadn’t paid much attention to it.

“Wicca is a group of humans that’s fighting for the rights of witches,” his Master said. “Curious thing that a wizard should kill Wicca members. It doesn’t make sense. And the signs left behind are too obviously witch related – like a set up.”

Darko nodded, then he remembered what Mikael had told him. “Nela’s mother is working as a healer. Mikael sells her supplies.”

“Does the girl know?”

“I don’t think so. I doubt Nela’s father would approve. He seems adamant about following the rules of the Brotherhood.”

“I think we should find out more about the activities of the girl’s mother. This could be to our advantage. I want you to watch the house of Nela’s family at night. The more we know the better.”

“But Master, you know I always spend the night at my sister’s grave.”

The Master’s eyes narrowed. “Do I have to remind you of your reward should we succeed with our ritual? If you do what’s necessary, you soon won’t have to content yourself with talking to a cold grave, you’ll have your sister back. I think you don’t quite understand the magnitude of what’s at stake Darko.”

An image of his sister floating in their shabby bathtub with death-widened eyes materialized before his inner eye. “I do understand, Master. I won’t fail.”

***

When Nela entered the living room, her mother was reading a book from her favorite Swedish crime writer but looked up to give Nela a quick smile. Nela sat down beside her on the couch. “Can I ask you a question?”

Her mother bookmarked the page she’d been reading and faced Nela with a small frown. Nela knew she acted weird. “Of course, sweetheart. What’s the matter?” There was a hint of caution in her voice.

“It’s about the past. I was wondering how it was like when you were a kid. You know before the peace treaty was tightened, and all kind of magic was banned.”

Her mother fumbled with her book. “When I was little, healing magic was excluded from the magic ban. Back then many healers practiced and helped people in need, but the tattoo couldn’t distinguish between healing spells and other kinds of magic. At first healers didn’t have to get a tattoo at all, but the Brotherhood felt like that opened doors to frauds. Eventually they convinced the politicians in most countries to extend the ban to healing magic. It was a sad day when I watched my mother receive her tattoo. She’d been a good healer. She’d lived for helping others and suddenly she couldn’t do it anymore.”

“That must have been hard,” Nela whispered. She had been raised with the knowledge that she’d never be allowed to do magic, but if you were used to working spells and suddenly were forbidden, it must have been so much harder.

“It was, but at first healers were still allowed to brew potions with non-magical means and create herbal tinctures. Many people, humans and magical folk, trusted healers more than doctors. But of course that, too, ended when the daughter of the Grand Master of the Brotherhood back then bought a potion from a well-known healer that led to an abortion. She’d asked for it. She was young and didn’t want her father to find out she was pregnant. Well, of course, he did find out about the abortion and he accused the witch of having poisoned his daughter without her knowledge. After that witches were also forbidden from making potions or herbal mixtures, and we were banned from celebrating our Sabbaths because the girl had lost her child on Litha.” Pain rang in her mother’s voice.

“The witch was burnt, right?”

Her mother nodded. “And the girl was found with slashed wrists shortly after. Many believe it was suicide, but two wizards were burnt for the crime.”

Nela’s heart felt so heavy she was sure it would squash her insides any moment. There was so much heartbreak in the past.

“I always loved watching my mother brew her potions. She would stir the wooden spoon with a happy smile on her face and hum my favorite songs for me. The smell of herbs and burning wood still reminds me of my childhood.”

“They shouldn’t have banned magic,” Nela said.

Her mother gave her a warning look. Nela’s father wasn’t at home yet, so she didn’t know why her mother was worried about someone overhearing them.

“They definitely shouldn’t have forbidden healing magic. It’s good magic. It saved so many people’s lives,” she whispered with a wistful expression.

A deep longing filled Nela. She could feel her magic expand in her body. Every day the dam holding it back was getting weaker. How long until it would burst out of her at the worst possible moment? “It’s all so wrong. We shouldn’t be deprived from our magic.”

Suddenly her mother looked very tired. “It’ll get easier with time. Soon you won’t even think you about magic any more.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Her mother touched her hand. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Sometimes I don’t think I can live without magic. It’s strange but I feel like I will burst if I don’t do magic.”

Worry flashed across her mother’s face but then it was gone. “That’s normal. It’s a natural reaction to want something that you can’t have, but that will pass. You’re strong. You’ll learn to suppress your desire to do magic.”

“Will I?” ‘Should I?’ was the question she wanted to ask.

“Of course. We all do,” she said with a weak smile. “Don’t mention this conversation to your father.”

Nela didn’t understand. Was her mother scared of her father? “Are you worried that he would betray us to the Brotherhood if he found out we were talking about this?”

Her mother snatched her hand back with a shocked expression. “How can you even think such a thing? Your father loves us. He would never do anything to hurt us. All your father ever does is protect us.”

“Then why can’t we tell him the truth? Why do we have to celebrate our Sabbaths without him?”

“There are things in your father’s past that led him to believe that in order to protect his family and our kind, we have to forgo magic, but your father does it
for us
.”

Nela felt bad for even having considered that her father would do anything to hurt them. “What about you? Do you think the only way to protect the ones we love is to give up our magic?”

For a long time her mother watched her, considering her reply. “No. I don’t think that’s the only way.”

After their conversation, Nela felt lighter, as if without knowing it, her mother had given permission to what Nela was going to do. The realization that her mother was definitely pro-magic made Nela’s decision easy.

She sank down on her bed and grabbed her cell phone. The card Darko had given her last night was crumpled in her jeans pocket. She quickly put in his number and typed a message before she could change her mind.  All she said was ‘I made my decision. I’m ready.” She didn’t mention magic. That would have been too risky. She wouldn’t put it past the Brotherhood to keep taps on all phones. Then she quickly hit send.

***

Darko rubbed his palms over his thighs. He was used to being in the cold. He’d spent many cold nights at his sister’s grave after all, but usually his grief distracted him from the stiffness of his limbs. He blew into his hands, but it didn’t do any good. They were so cold, moving felt like someone was stabbing him with a sharp knife. What a waste of time. And he’d only been here spying on Nela’s home for two hours. It was a few minutes after midnight and finally the lights on the first floor were extinguished. Nela’s father still hadn’t returned home. What was he doing so late at night? Something buzzed in his coat and he jumped, almost falling over. He’d been kneeling for too long. He straightened with a grimace and pulled out his phone. A text from an unknown number had arrived. He opened it and smiled. He’d known she would give in eventually. He glanced up and saw her draw her curtains shut. Seconds later, her window was dark. He shook out his legs. He couldn’t really see why he should stay here any longer. Was he supposed to watch them sleep?

Maybe he could go to the cemetery. The Master wouldn’t know. He was about to turn away, when a shadow slipped out of the house. Darko moved closer, but made sure that he was hidden by cars. Nela’s mother was hurrying down the sidewalk, keeping to the shadows. It was risky to walk around at night as a witch. People might find it suspicious. He followed her. He knew how not to be noticed. That was something he had to learn quickly, but she seemed quite capable herself. She walked briskly, always glancing at the windows of the houses around her and disappearing in the darkness whenever a car drove by. Of course there was still a risk to this kind of travel. Why wasn’t she traveling by shadows?

It would make her tattoo spread, but if she worked magic spells in addition to creating potions, then her tattoo probably was already out of control. Or maybe she’d never experienced the kind of utter loss that was necessary to call upon the darkness. It was something that came far too easily for Darko.

Eventually, Nela’s mother arrived at a metro stop. She was the only person there, and she didn’t check the timetable. Darko stopped out of sight. When the metro finally rolled around the corner he casually strolled in the direction of the stop and got in through one of the backdoors while Nela’s mother chose a seat in the front. He could still see her but her attention was focused elsewhere.

Darko had only taken the metro once before; he hoped nobody would ask for his ticket. After about ten minutes, the single-family homes with their prim front gardens changed to apartment buildings, at first only two or three stories tall until the metro arrived in one of the less desirable parts of Cologne where the buildings were huge and hope was small. That’s where Nela’s mother got out and Darko quickly did the same. Though they were in a bad part of Cologne, she didn’t seem nervous. Her steps weren’t becoming quicker and she wasn’t looking over her shoulder. She’d been here before. And it wasn’t all that surprising.

Here you’d find the desperate and the powerless, those that needed help the most. Darko had lived not too far from here when he’d first arrived in Cologne with his sister more than three years ago. They hadn’t had anything but the clothes on their bodies. They’d been hungry and scared, but they’d had each other. Darko would have done anything to turn back the time. He closed his eyes for a moment, bringing back an image of one of their first evenings in an abandoned apartment, sitting on a dirty mattress someone had left behind and huddling against each other. Sadness trickled in, became an intense pain in his chest, but he endured it, if only to have that image in his mind for a little longer. He quickly opened his eyes. He’d slowed down without intending to and Nela’s mother was only a moving shape in front of him. He hurried after her. This wasn’t the time to let the past claim him.