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.
Many witches and wizards lived in the less desirable parts of town, probably why they had become even less desirable in the first place. They were the unlucky ones who didn’t have family that could give them a job, or who weren’t qualified enough to get a job in witch-owned businesses. Welfare wasn’t available to people of his kind. They had to hope for the benevolence of a few witch-friendly social organizations. Darko hadn’t set foot into this part of Cologne since the Master had approached him, but the situation seemed to have gotten worse. Many windows were broken and yet candles were glowing in them. He even spotted the face of a thin child in one of them before its mother pulled it back. Magical slums. They’d been growing not only in Cologne.
Eventually, Nela’s mother left the sidewalk and turned toward one of the apartment buildings. This was one of the official refugee homes of the city where people who were seeking asylum lived. Gypsies, too, had found shelter in the shabby apartments. They were as unwanted in society as the magical folk, so they stuck together. And the travelling folk had always been partial to witchcraft and many of them had a witch in their family. Several of the gypsy men were sitting on plastic chairs on the lawn, blowing rings of smoke into the icy air, cigarettes dangling from their fingers. Their dark eyes followed Darko, but he knew he didn’t stick out.
Nela’s mother was greeted by an older gypsy woman in a flowery skirt and then led inside. Darko hesitated. If he followed them inside, someone would definitely wonder what he was doing there. But Darko needn’t have worried. A large crowd had gathered in front of the room in which Nela’s mother seemed to do her healing business. Darko walked in and tried to peer over the heads and past the shoulders of the waiting people. The smell of herbs mingled with the stench of several unwashed bodies. The water pipes were probably broken.
Nela’s mother examined a small boy who was crying. His mother wrung her hands nervously beside him. Mrs. Vogel took a small vial from her bag and coerced the boy to drink it. He didn’t stop crying but Nela’s mother seemed satisfied. After that a teenage boy sat down on the table and lifted his sleeve. He had a cut on his arm and the skin around it was dark red. Blood poisoning most likely. That explained why he was sweating so much despite the cold. Herbs and salves alone wouldn’t be enough to save that boy’s life. Nela’s mother spread something on the boy’s arm, then clamped her hand around it and closed her eyes, her lips moving quickly. The redness around the wound lessened slightly. After that she stitched the wound up. Darko was sure she’d used magic to extract the poisoning from his blood. And it probably wasn’t the first time she’d resorted to spells to save someone.
The line of asylum seekers, homeless witches and wizards, and gypsies who were waiting for their turn had gotten even longer. It was a huge risk she was taking. People had to spread the word about her visits and that always posed the risk that the information reached the wrong ears. The old men were still smoking and most of the inhabitants of the surrounding houses had either gathered on the lawn or were standing in their windows and watching everything from there. This was quite a spectacle. Darko wasn’t sure how long Nela’s mother had been coming here to help, but it was sheer luck that the Brotherhood hadn’t found out yet. Maybe their hawk eyes didn’t stray as far as to these lost places. No pure souls around to save.
But this probably wasn’t the only place where Nela’s mother offered her services. At some point, the Brotherhood would find out, or the constant use of magic would be revealed by her tattoo. And even though people like the ones living in these apartments had learned to keep their own and other’s secrets, there was always the chance that one went to the Brotherhood in hopes of improving their status.
Darko didn’t understand why she was doing it. She didn’t even ask for money. She was risking too much for very little in return. But she wasn’t his concern. He’d tell his Master what he’d found out and the man would decide what to do with the information. Blackmail was always an option after all.
Nela regarded the address that Darko had sent her in a text this morning. He’d invited her into his apartment for their first lesson for the same evening. Nela had to sneak out again and she was starting to feel bad for going behind her mother’s back. She’d never had reason to lie to her mother. Well, except for the problem with her magic.
Nela stopped in front of an old building only a few minutes from the city center. She dismounted her bike and leaned it against the wall. The only source of light was a street lamp a good distance away. There was a lamp attached over the front door of the house but its glass was broken and the light bulb was missing. Two rows of bell buttons, eight in total, lined the wall to the right of the door. Only five of them had name tags, and three of those weren’t legible.
A buzz rang out. Nela jumped back, looking around. The buzz came again and she gingerly pushed against the door, which opened with a creak. She peered inside. It was even darker than outside.
“Fifth floor,” someone called. Nela walked into the middle of the hall and peered up the stairway. High up, Darko was looking over the banister, light pooling behind him. Then he disappeared.
She hesitated with her foot on the first step. It was silent in the house. She touched her phone through her coat and gripped her purse with her pepper spray tighter, then she began her ascend. She was out of breath and sweaty when she reached the fifth floor. Darko was nowhere to be seen, but the door to the left was open and spilled light into the narrow hallway. Her breath left her mouth in small clouds and the smell of smoke and something old came from the other door on the floor.
Nela quickly entered Darko’s apartment and closed the door behind herself. It was only marginally warmer here. She decided to keep her coat on as she made her way toward the room at the end of the long corridor with its creaking wooden floorboards. The room she entered was big but served as kitchen and living room, and behind a curtain in the corner an alcove with a bed was hidden. The red-brown parquet was scratched and in some places even curved, probably from water damage. A tall lamp in the corner next to the door, farthest from the window, cast its honey glow around the room. Nela couldn’t spot a power cable anywhere and wondered how a big lamp like that could be powered by batteries. The light didn’t, however, reach the small kitchen with its two hotplates. There wasn’t a kitchen table, only a lone folding chair. Darko stood in front of a saggy brown suede couch with three pallets piled atop each other serving as table. There was something lying on the pallets.
Between the Shadow and the Soul Page 10
