Page 96 of Souls We Rip

“Goat Man, what do you need?” Her cheeks flushed at my scowl. “I wanted to teach Eugen to read. His mind might be bright, but he lacks skills.”

“I have an idea.”

I pulled her away and went to the library. Without a word, I got one of the tomes out. I flipped to the pages, the paper harsh against my skin. As my eyes found the passages, I read them out loud.

The master of all must die, while a contract is fulfilled.

The master of all must perish at the hands of a good entity. The kind that knows honesty from evil.

The master of all needs to have his skull upon death, their head swept away.

I raised my head to Ana, and she nodded.

As a smile broke over her lips, we realised that we had found our way out.

The eighth soul

The hoar-frost clung to our coats, skulls and scythes.

“Why don’t we go already?” Ana asked, eyeing the only window of a century-old building with a light on.

We were observing the apartment edifice since nightfall. The stars and moon were hidden by clouds, Brumar already blowing its winds.

“Just wait,” I whispered.

She huffed, impatience passing through her body. Her opinci were hitting the ground repeatedly, her eyes fixed on the lamp.

The city of Sibiu was sleeping, except for one woman.

When Ana tapped her Souls’ Mirror, a woman was presented to her, a teacher who had no intention of resigning from her school. She was notorious for beating children during classes, but as the principals did not care for the children or parents, she was still inflicting terror.

“I do not want to make it easy on her, Tiberius,” she mused, blowing three times in her chest, her fingers grazing her cross-patterned ie.

“I know you will not, inimă,” I smiled, watching the lady of my eternity.

The eighth soul’s house was glued to the Clock Tower, the sophisticated Roman numbers, letting us know that half of the night had already passed while we observed the woman creating her lesson plan.

Outside the Old Town of Sibiu was the house I acquired for myself. How a woman like Ana changed my view of life, so that I wanted to take the three of them with me.

I watched as the next soul threw her pen and notebooks on her desk and left the room.

“I’m going! She is at ease enough,” Ana announced, grabbing her floating scythe.

While Ana dealt with the woman, I had to run and pick up a surprise for her, the reason I delayed her ripping.

My steps were light on the wet cobblestones; the market stalls were assembled for the day. Some men were trying to lift the wooden tables from a truck, while others were unloading their merchandise. They were hollering at each other, oblivious to the sleepers.

The moon was hidden under heavy clouds, rain waiting its turn to wash up the dusty streets. The autumn was coming to an end, the icy air of the night cutting through the skin of the people mulling around the Old Town.

I stopped at a small shop across the Small Market, the colour of eggshells decorating its walls. My knuckles rapped three times, and a hunchbacked man opened the door.

“My order,” I demanded, “please!”

One memory of my rudeness came to mind.

“Asking people nicely won’t kill you, Goat!” Ana threw her hands in the air, her cheeks pink.

“Maybe physically not, dear woman, but it will definitely wound my image!” I retorted, anger rising high.