The Girl with the Scar (Dark Connection Saga Book 1)

by Stadler, William

  Without looking back, Eva turned left at the intersection, kicking up rocks. She leapt up the stairs to her house, panting and out of breath, nearly snatching the door open, but remembering that her mother was still asleep.

  Pushing out a few more uncontrolled breaths, she quieted her breathing before she stepped inside. The cool, arched metal handle was cold against her skin. She glanced back to make sure that Wolf had not followed, and she peeled the door open.

  The wood creaked against the threshold, and a slither of light from the dying fire cut through the crack in the door. Placing her foot inside silently, she eased the door closed, wiggled out of her jacket, and hung it beside the door.

  Relieved, she let out a sigh.

  “Genevieve!”

  Eva’s heart stuck in her throat, her own name clunking in her chest, ringing in her mind like a warning bell. “Mother….”

  The embers burned in the fireplace, smoldering in the unattended flame to her left. Maria stood up from Eva’s bed, arms crossed, temper withheld by pursed lips and cloaked in the eerie darkness, illuminated only by the tiny sparks in the fire.

  “Where have you been?” Maria asked, not caring about the answer.

  “I…”

  “Don’t you dare lie to me!”

  Eva fidgeted back and forth. What would get her the lesser punishment, the lie or the truth? Maria had warned her about Wolf only once, but she threatened her for lying more times than Eva could remember.

  “Answer me!” her mother demanded, without uncrossing her arms, interrupting Eva’s thinking.

  “With Wolf,” Eva replied. What was she doing? Her mouth had snuck in the truth while her mind was still deciding.

  Maria hurried to her daughter. Eva flinched, but to her surprise, her mother’s warm hands touched her cheeks. “What did I tell you about him, darling?”

  The truth had saved her from a backside polishing. Now her mind agreed with her lips, trusting that she had chosen wisely. “I’m sorry, Mother. I just had to know. He said he was leaving in the morning, and I needed to know what happened.”

  Maria squeezed Eva’s cheeks between her palms and kissed her daughter’s forehead, then she put Eva’s head against her bosom. “You can’t do that to me, darling,” she said sniffing. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks onto Eva’s head. “I’ve done all I can to keep this family together, and in no time, it’s all falling apart.”

  “I wasn’t trying to frighten you, Mother, but I just needed to know.”

  She kissed her daughter on the head and went to her bedroom. “Please don’t leave me like that again.”

  CHAPTER 6

  THE MESSAGES

  Several months passed, and the winter had come in full, especially in the early morning, abandoning autumn to die out just like summer had. The fire in Eva’s house was more of a decoration than a source of heat, but still Eva sat next to the flame in the kitchen chair, covered with her blanket.

  She hadn’t seen Wolf since the dreadful night that the Haunt had returned for her, and she was glad for it. She had refused to tell her mother of Edward’s danger, not wanting to worry her, but the thoughts of his possible death plagued her nightmares. She would wake up screaming, seeing the same blue flecks trickling from the ceiling that she had seen when the Haunt had grabbed her.

  Maria would come running, and Eva would tell her mother about the dreams, though she intentionally refrained from mentioning that amongst the slaughters was her brother, Edward.

  The seizures had lessened, and she’d only had two since the fall, but their potency was worse, leaving her out of breath and bruised. She looked at her wrist, noticing the mysterious finger indentions on her arm from the seizure only a few days prior as if someone had grabbed her, the bone in her forearm still aching.

  There wasn’t much that she remembered from that seizure, but her mother had been silent about it ever since, and Eva was too afraid to bring it up.

  Eva’s toes stuck out from underneath the blanket, but she didn’t tuck them away, enjoying the heat of the flame warming up those lower appendages.

  “Why are you awake so early?” Maria asked as she entered the kitchen, stretching.

  “The weather, I suppose.” Eva yawned, but then heavy thuds on the door interrupted her. She turned away from the blaze, facing the sold wooden door. Maria cut her eyes at Eva and opened the door slowly, suspicious.

  A scraggly man stepped inside, pipe in hand, the sides of his lips and nostrils fuming smoke. “Is there room for an old decrepit this early in the morning?” Jahn pushed the door open, inviting himself inside without permission, gray beret slanted to the side.

  Eva rolled her eyes, shaking her head. What was he doing here, especially so soon? Did the day demand for him to impose? “Good day to you, Sir Jahn,” Eva said.

  “Darling, Genie. How are you this fine morning, manners all intact?” He shooed her away with a vein-lined hand, exposing dirty fingernails that had been neatly trimmed. “Please allow this old man to sit beside the fire. I certainly am much too old to endure the cold. Your young bones can take the chill, but I’m afraid that I would be two steps closer to the grave if I had to pass the day without the fire to warm my fragile insides.”

  And two steps closer to my satisfaction, Eva thought, smiling. She dragged herself out of the chair, and her skin tightened at the cool of the winter breeze that seeped through the cracks of the log cabin. She sat at the table to the right of Jahn, hating him. He couldn’t possibly expect to spend an entire day with her and her mother.

  “May I fix you some tea?” Maria asked.

  A few sips from his pipe kept him quiet long enough for Eva to savor the silence, but then he spoke again. She frowned. Pinching his fingers together to show how much he wanted, Jahn said, “A spot of tea would do me quite well, though I would prefer coffee, if you have it.”

  “Surely we do,” Maria replied, nodding obediently.

  Her nose is getting browner with every heartbeat, Eva thought. “Are we sure we have coffee, Mother?” Eva asked, wide-eyed, trying to convince Maria not to share their luxury with this man.

  Ignoring her daughter, Maria replied, “I’ll check the cellar.”

  Maria stepped behind Eva, tapping on the floor with her foot until she heard a hollow echo. She kneeled down, stuck her middle finger into a tiny hole in the floor, and lifted the three wooden planks, all connected by a horizontal crossbar.

  The hinges creaked, and the smell of stored food and supplies entered the kitchen. Maria flipped the door back, and the wood smashed against the floor. She stepped down the two steps that lead to the cellar, and the lower half of her body disappeared, though her head and torso were above ground.

  Maria reached into a compartment beneath the floorboard and pulled out a small, brown cloth sack. Eva turned around, wide-eyed again. Maria looked away and sighed, climbed out of the cellar, and closed the slat.

  “We have enough left for two,” Maria said, though her voice did not seem that she wanted Jahn to take any.

  “Splendid!” Jahn said, smoke spilling from his lips. “I usually have two cups in the morning! I traveled so late in the evening last night, and I forgot to collect any coffee from my generous hosts beyond the Vice.”

  Eva wondered if the hosts had been generous or if Jahn had imposed, much the same way he was doing now. Maria opened the sack on the table, which contained two smaller pouches, each holding the ground coffee beans. She placed one of the pouches in a mug and poured hot water into the cup and slid it across the table to Jahn.

  Jahn sighed, rubbing the cracked wrinkles on his forehead. “I like to have my coffee double wrapped so that there’s less of the coffee taste in my drink. This will never do,” he muttered, annoyed. “Only one cup of coffee for me this morning, I suppose,” he sighed. “Genie, could you please pour this out and have your lovely mother make another cup for me.”

  Maria gestured to Eva with her eyes, so Eva grabbed the cup and dumped the steaming water outside.
The harsh morning air raided against Eva, and chill bumps lined her arms and neck. Maria had already begun making another cup of coffee, and Jahn peered over the edge of his pipe bowl, eyebrows raised, making sure that Maria did not waste another cup.

  Sitting at the table, Maria locked her fingers together, waiting for Jahn to enjoy his stolen treat. Two more puffs and a sip preceded a savory grin.

  “What brings you here, Jahn?” Maria asked, nose browner than before.

  Jahn shrugged; his tunic rustled against his woolen undershirt, and he looked at the ceiling, pensive. “The weather, but even more than that…a warning.”

  “A warning?” Maria asked, wringing her hands together.

  Eva lost the taste for coffee, squashed out by the pungent smell of tobacco and the thickness of Jahn’s unexpected harbinger. “What kind of warning, sir?”

  “Your manners are a kiss to my soul, madam.” He clenched his eyes together, shaking his head slowly. “Another star has fallen, this time over Green Planes.”

  Green Planes, she thought, but she never spoke. She didn’t have the stomach to ask the length of the star tail, and if the star had fallen over her city, the Raiders would not be far away. “Didn’t the last star fall near the river?” she asked, seeking refuge beneath a broken canopy of hope.

  “Eva!” Maria snapped, slapping her hand quickly. “Never question a Kibitzer about his craft.”

  “If I should expect nothing less from the miller and his wares, then how is Jahn…?”

  “That’s enough, young woman!”

  Eva nearly smiled, hearing her mother not refer to her as a child, but she kept her cheeks from swelling, in keeping with the mood.

  “It is no bother to me,” Jahn replied. “The young madam is indeed intrigued, and she is correct to inquire about these things.” His voice got deeper, and the fumes of his pipe menaced around her. “Especially since it is she that they are searching for.”

  Eva gasped, disarmed by this frail, old man. How did he know? Did Wolf tell him? Who else knew? She tried to remain calm, but her heartbeat had to have given her away. “And why might they be looking for me,” she cleared her throat, “sir?”

  “I am a Kibitzer, not a fool, madam.”

  He stood, leaving the wasted coffee on the table. For the first time, Eva didn’t want him to leave, not wanting the information that she’d held so close to her chest to escape with this near-to-the-grave old man. “You have not yet finished your coffee,” Eva said, sliding it to him.

  Smoke swirled out of his jaws as he stepped away from the table, edging over to the door. He looked back. “Don’t worry, Girl with the Scar, your secret is somewhat safe with me, as it has been all these long years.”

  Suddenly the old man seemed younger and more vile, holding something over her head that may have appeared like protection, though she knew that it was a bag, made ready for her strangulation. Before she could reel him back inside with another flippant invitation, the door closed, and he vanished, perhaps back towards the Vice. She wanted to follow, but she sat at the table, iced to her seat. What did he mean ‘somewhat’? “Mother, did you tell him?” she whimpered.

  Maria was silent, staring at the table, not sure what to say, and Eva suffered the moment, waiting for a reply. “I trusted him,” Maria said.

  Eva slumped back in her chair, gazing at her empty bedroom, next to Edward’s. “So then you did tell him.”

  Maria clasped her daughter’s hand, and the warmth felt cold coming from her. For the rest of that man’s deathly life, Eva would have to succumb to his filthy demands. “How could you pretend to preserve my life, when you had given it away so many years before?”

  “Eva, please forgive me, I had no idea that he would use this as a blade in my hip.”

  Nodding her head, Eva replied, “It all makes sense now. You submit to him, not because you want to, but because you have to, trying to undo the damage that you’ve already done. And what about me, Mother? Am I now forced to endure his mud? Death itself seems sweeter.”

  “Don’t talk like that, darling.”

  Eva stood up, emotionless. She dragged her feet to the door, tied on her knee-high leather boots underneath her cream dress, and she slid on her jacket. Not looking back to her mother, she picked up the bucket. “I’m heading to the Connect, alone. I’ll be back before nightfall, if I am not dead first,” she said gravely with words that seemed to have decomposed on her tongue.

  Maria sprang for her chair and grabbed her daughter’s wrist. “Eva, please don’t go, not yet. The group is going to the Connect today. Wait for the others to go with you.”

  Eva jerked her hand away. “I would rather be dead than to sing praises to that shriveled up old man whom I despise.”

  She snatched the door open and headed east, passing through the Vice and striding through the King’s Extension. The trail did not seem as looming as it had before, not since she had accepted her fate. Exiting the woods to the Connect, the market bustled with busyness, servicing people from the western towns who all came together at one location to keep from having to make the extended trip to the river.

  Wheel barrel tracks lined through the grass, making unnatural beaten paths, and bargainers hollered out over the ruckus, calling buyers to them, though this particular day was different. The people’s faces seemed heavier. They appeared to know something that she did not.

  Behind the hubbub, there seemed to be an urgency, a panic, with no known source. She reached for her satchel to pull out the king’s copper, but it wasn’t on her hip. She checked her other hip, and it was gone, and she hurriedly patted either shoulder, hoping that perhaps she had strung the strap wildly in her quick escape from her mother.

  After a moment of frantic searching, the reality settled upon her that she had left her satchel at home on her bed, a half day back. In her frustration, she had come to the Connect with no way of paying. Isolation invaded her, and the rash decision, that seemed wise at the time, became as foolish as playing near a well, and this time, she had fallen in.

  Aimless, she hiked through the Connect, bucket clunking against her tender calf. Maybe Wolf would be there to save her, but she knew better. She had run him off, and there would be no reason for him to ever return. Glancing through the crowds, the flickers of reflective light flashed across her face. She followed the light to the Water Walkers who were stationed behind the merchants.

  No one liked a beggar, but this was what she had reduced herself to. If she didn’t get some water, she would have to come back, and without her frustration to blind her, the fear would certainly return. Creeping her way through the eerily frantic crowd, she stood in line for some water.

  She closed her eyes, forming the phrase that she would use in her mind. ‘My brother’s sick.’ No that would never work. ‘My mother is old and she needs water.’ That is just as weak. Her turn came, and she held her bucket out at waist-level.

  The woman turned and grabbed it, holding her other hand out for the coins. Then the woman smiled, her blonde hair flowing out of her crimson headdress. “I remember you,” the woman said.

  Eva couldn’t say the same, but this was her chance to state her cause. “I hoped you would,” Eva said.

  “Hurry up! We have places to be!” a man yelled from behind.

  “My wagon’s closed,” the woman said, motioning for them to leave. Eva turned slowly, but a gentle hand touched her shoulder. “Not you, Genevieve.”

  She remembers my name, but I can’t recall hers. “I thought you were telling us all to go away.”

  “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  Eva shook her head, grip tightening on the bucket, knowing that she had lost her chance to the water. “I wish I did.”

  “Stasis,” she smiled, extending her hand again. “Wolf’s friend.”

  Eva’s face lit up. Perhaps she could weasel some water from this woman. “I remember now.”

  “For you, I won’t charge you anything.” Stasis leaned closer. “Don’t you g
o telling the others about this, or everyone will think that I’ve gotten tender.”

  Anxiously, Eva handed Stasis the bucket, relieved that she would not be reduced to begging. Stasis dunked the bucket in the back of her wagon, and Eva noticed five leather pouches attached to Stasis’s leather belt. Turning, Stasis noticed that Eva was staring, and Stasis smiled gently.

  “Wondering what these are?” Stasis asked, handing the filled pail back to Eva.

  Eva nodded as her shoulders dropped at the weight of the water, but she didn’t dare pour any out, not wanting to seem ungrateful. She would have to at least make it back to the edge of the woods before she lightened her load.

  “These are Essences, collected by Hunters.”

  “What do they do?” she asked.

  “Where are you from that you haven’t heard of Essence?” Stasis asked.

  “Green Planes.”

  “Oh yes! Near the Vice. I can’t imagine why this is the first you’ve heard of Essence. Only Hunters can find these.”

  “Like Jevar?” Eva asked, not realizing that the name Jevar had returned to her lips as subtly as it had left her when she had called him Wolf before.

  Stasis’s shoulders slumped, and she wiped her cold damp hands on a cloth. “So he told you?”

  “What do they do?” Eva asked.

  “Depends on what you need, but they aren’t cheap. This one,” she said, shaking one of the pouches, “will cost at least five king’s gold, and that’s if I’m feeling generous, but I suppose you would rather hear the news than listen to me chatter on.”

  Eva wanted to ask more about the Essences, but she did not want to impose on Stasis’s courtesy, so she reluctantly held back her curiosity. “Why do the people seem like they’re in such a hurry to leave?” Eva asked.

  “Raiders are near to a fortnight away, but probably not more than that. People are stocking up on the essentials, praying that the raids will pass them by. From what I hear,” she halted, “the Dark Queen is with them.”

  With that, Stasis jumped into her carriage, snapped the reigns, and rode off, leaving Eva to dislodge the spear that had sunk so deeply in her chest. She hurried back, bucket in hand, eyes set on the forest’s edge, not wanting to go home the way she’d come.