Page 85 of Souls We Rip

“Yes, are you?”

His question left me puzzled, my eyebrows raising and falling without a figured answer.

I did not have my family anymore. Even if I checked on them often, disgrace fell on me. On the other hand, I was growing fond of Andrei, even though he was still a reckless young boy.

And for Tiberius, there were more feelings than a mouth can speak.

“I think…yes and no,” I finally answered.

The boy nodded, and I had the idea of inviting him for tea and some food.

And he was not an evil child.

Three days have passed since I took the child with me. Two nights have passed since the Elk promised me that Tiberius would be brought back. I paced around the cave, day and night, waiting. Andrei kept rolling his eyes in his head.

I couldn’t sleep properly or eat anything more than bread, cheese and tomatoes. Anything else would hurt my stomach.

In one moment of awareness, I told the child, Eugen, everything about the Goat Man and his story. How Andrei joined him and how I came to extract six souls. I thought it best not to share the gore, so I wouldn't frighten him. His golden eyes grew every time he found out something new.

And he was the only one who could touch Andrei without getting too squirmy. The boy found everything exhilarating. From the ghost to the Mirrors, from the candles that seemed to never end to the food that became more delicious under my guidance.

Eugen remained with us for longer than the cup of tea. I gathered so many protective feelings for this small child that I convinced Andrei to also join in taking care of him. Both of us stared as the boy described his unhappy life until I took him.

His grandparents, along with his father, had passed away in the war. His mother reflected her pain through beatings over his smooth skin.

Just as my father did.

“What’s this?” asked Eugen, holding a piece of bread smeared in jam.

My eyes travelled to him, but no words were coming out of my mouth. Not wanting to hurt the boy’s feelings, I gestured to Andrei.

The ghost cleared his throat. “A scythe. Please do not touch that, it might cut your skin,” he warned, as gently as he could.

A cold breeze touched my legs, and all three of us snapped our heads to the entrance of the cave. The candles flickered as all three of us moved towards the source of the gush. I pushed past the ghost, ignoring the sensation that the touch created on my skin.

Tiberius was delivered to us, carried by a breeze alongside leaves in a large array of autumnal colours, his chest barely rising. I thought I would faint at the sight of him.

He was bruised all over his face, chest and hands as if he had been hit continuously. Andrei sprang into action and laid Tiberius in his chamber. There was blood everywhere, seeping from his stomach.

Eugen had to push me out of the room, just to stay sane. His hands grabbed mine and pulled me into the hallway.

“How many souls do you still have to take?”

His question made me look at him. It was a ploy to keep my attention off the room where the man who stood between death and life was.

“Four,” I whispered back.

“And how many months?”

It was the end of Răpciune.

“Not enough.”

The month of Brumărel began with Andrei trying to nurse Tiberius back to health. The ghost sent me far away on the first night, because I would cry and pray.

After a few days, Andrei had to lure an old woman from my village to mend Tiberius from the state he was in. She came for two weeks every day, at the same time with the same ointments.

Every time the woman left the cave, Eugen told me that she would sing disenchantments about wounds and the evil eye.