Between the Shadow and the Soul

by Susanne Winnacker

  “I thought you’d changed your mind on the way up,” Darko said. He wasn’t wearing his trademark coat, just a black long-sleeved shirt, despite the cold in the room.

  “I almost did,” Nela admitted, taking a few cautious steps closer and then she saw what was lying on the table. A dead cat. She recoiled, eyes widening.

  “It’s just a dead cat,” Darko said as if it was normal to have a dead cat lying on your living room table. “It’s dead,” he said again as if that would reassure her.

  “I’d prefer if it was alive! Why is it dead? And why is it lying on your table?” Nela took a shivery breath. “You didn’t kill it, did you?”

  Darko frowned. “It’s a cat. You act as if it’s a newborn child.”

  “Answer me,” Nela hissed, considering turning on her heel and leaving him there with the dead cat.

  “I didn’t kill it,” he said. Nela narrowed her eyes. “Honestly. I didn’t touch it. I found it like that at a veterinary.”

  “You found it?” Nela asked. “And they just let you take it. Where was it, in the trash?”

  He shrugged. “Okay, I broke into the practice and stole the body, are you happy now?”

  “But why? This is really sick. Why would anyone do that?”

  She could tell that Darko was annoyed by her questions, but she didn’t give a damn. It wasn’t normal to steal dead cats and take them home, and the sooner he realized it the better.

  “It’s for an experiment.”

  “What kind of experiment?”

  Darko groaned. “Why don’t you take off your coat first and stop clinging to your bag like it’s your lifeline?”

  Nela flushed. She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been clutching her purse. Her knuckles were white from the pressure. She loosened her grip but didn’t put the purse down. “It’s cold. Can’t you make it warmer?”

  She noticed his amusement when he walked toward a black furnace. It looked like it was at least one hundred years old. When Darko opened the small flap in the front, Nela could see that a few wooden blocks were smoldering inside. Darko added a few more thin branches, closed the flap again and turned a lever. There was a hiss as air streamed down the narrow black duct attached to the wall that led outside. Within a few minutes, the room got warmer and Nela took her coat off and threw it over the armrest of the couch.

  “What about your purse? You can put it down, you know?” he said, smirking.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Don’t want to part with your pepper spray?”

  “Maybe,” Nela said. Darko didn’t look annoyed. If possible, he seemed to be satisfied with her reaction.

  Nela moved to his side, which put her right in front of the table with the dead cat. Even in her thick turtleneck sweater, she wasn’t exactly warm, but Darko didn’t seem to mind the cold.

  “So what kind of experiment?” Nela felt queasy staring down at the lifeless cat. Her red fur was dull, her body stiff. Her open brown eyes were unseeing and cloudy.

  “Remember that I told you about necromancers?”

  “Of course, I do,” Nela said. She shook her head. “No, wait. Are you a necromancer?” There was a note of hysteria in her voice. Even if Darko had insisted not all necromancers had supported Hitler, everyone knew they were bad news. It was unnatural to be able to bring back the dead.

  Darko laughed. “Sadly, not.”

  Nela felt more confused than ever. “But--”

  “I want you to try to bring the cat back to life.”

  He was crazy. “I’m not a necromancer. You stole the cat for nothing. This was a stupid idea.”

  “Why don’t you try it? You have nothing to lose.”

  Didn’t she? “We’re wasting time. I came here because you promised to teach me how to use my magic. I didn’t agree to playing around with dead things.”

  “Are you scared?”

  “Of course not. Why would I be scared?” As if to prove her point she reached out and touched the dead cat. Nothing happened. Relief settled in her. Darko with all his taunting had actually made her worried. She was angry at herself for being so stupid.

  Darko’s expression darkened. “Pick it up.”

  She glared. “Don’t order me around.”

  “You’re a spoilt brat. The moment things don’t go the way you want them to, you get angry.”

  “That’s not true, but I didn’t come here for this.”

  “Fine,” he said, and grabbed the cat. Nela stepped back, afraid he’d actually throw it at her, but instead he walked toward the furnace. “What are you doing?”

  “I’ll burn it. We don’t need it anymore. You said it yourself.”

  “You can’t burn it. It’ll stink. And what if the owner wants to bury it?”

  “Then he wouldn’t have left it at the vet.”

  “Maybe the undertaker is supposed to pick it up tomorrow for cremation.”

  Darko stopped in front of the furnace, cat dangling from its tail that he held in his right hand. “People actually cremate their pets?” His lips curled. “I guess people who live a sheltered life like yours don’t know what else to do with their money than waste it on their dead cats.”

  Something snapped in Nela then. She stomped toward him and ripped the cat from his grip. “You’re an asshole. Just because I didn’t go through the same things you did doesn’t mean my life is always easy. You’re so full of yourself.” Her heart was pounding against her ribcage, her fingers, her entire body tingling with magic. And then there was a meow. Nela dropped the cat and fell back, stumbling against the sofa and sinking down on it. The dead cat was squirming on the ground, eyes rolling back in its head. It led out another high-pitched meow and began writhing on the floor. It was in pain. Its claws were out, digging into the floor. The sound coming from it tore through Nela. What had she done?

  ***

  “You did it,” Darko said. He couldn’t believe it. He felt like laughing, but then Nela’s panicked voice burst through his bubble of elation.

  “Make it stop!”

  His eyes found the cat on the ground. It was squirming, obviously in pain. They had to release it quickly. He squatted beside Nela who sat stone-still on the sofa. Her eyes were wide as she watched the animal she’d brought back from the dead. “You have to release its spirit. You’re in control of it. Give it back to death.”

  Her amber eyes focused on him. Her pupils were too wide and she was deathly pale. “I can’t. I don’t know how. I don’t understand.” Her gaze returned to the creature. Darko gripped her arms. “Nela, listen to me. You raised the cat from the dead and only you can put it back.”

  She pushed him away and he fell to his knees. She rose to her legs and slowly backed away, shaking her head. “I can’t. I can’t!” She collided with the wall. The black of her pupils had consumed her irises. The cat let out another pitiful yowl.

  Darko watched her for a moment longer, then he jumped to his feet. She wasn’t in control and from the look of it she was close to falling into shock. He strode toward his kitchen and ripped open the top drawer with the cutlery that had been there when he’d moved in and that he never used. He grasped the butcher’s knife. He couldn’t go against her magic. Only a necromancer could release its spell. There was only one thing left he could think of. He hurried back to the cat and knelt down beside it. “Look away,” he ordered, but Nela was watching him with terror-widened eyes. He raised the knife and swung it down. With sickening crunch, he severed the cat’s head from its body. The last meow died away and the cat lay still. The knife stuck in the wooden floor. Blood pooled around the lifeless body of the cat, trickled into the gaps between the floorboards.

  Darko quickly got up before the liquid reached his jeans. He glanced at Nela who was cowering against the wall. Her eyes were closed and she was shaking. He wondered if his actions had really released the cat or if Nela had done it accidentally when she had to watch him decapitate the cat. He hesitated. Should he go to her and console her? But he didn’t k
now how. It had been a while since he’d taken care of someone like that. His chest tightened. He bent down and carefully picked up the remains of the cat. He stuffed them into a black trash bag and sealed it with a knot. He’d have to dispose of it later. He couldn’t possibly return it to the vet like that.

  Darko looked at Nela to make sure she wasn’t going to bolt – she was still frozen in place with her eyes now open and staring at the pool of blood where the cat had been. “I’ll have to take this to the trash can,” he said, lifting the black bag. She didn’t react to his words and he decided to hurry. He took the steps two at a time and was glad for the cold that hit him when he stepped outside. It would prevent the cat from starting to smell until he got the chance to dispose it somewhere else. He walked around the house to the shared trash can for the apartment building and stuffed the cat inside. It was still a few days until the trash would get picked up, but he’d deal with the problem tomorrow. For a moment he relished in the cold and thought about the cemetery and his sister’s grave where he would have spent the night under normal circumstances. He couldn’t believe that Master Valentine had been right. They’d finally found their medium. The ritual could take place as planned, if Nela didn’t run away before then. Not that he would let her. The Master would never forgive him and probably punish him, not that it would actually bother Darko. The worst punishment would be if he lost the chance to get his sister back because he botched it with Nela.

  Then an idea struck him. What if Nela could bring his sister back? If that was the case, he wouldn’t have to work for the Master anymore. He wouldn’t have to wait months until Litha and maybe even longer if his Master needed time to recover from the ritual. He could have his sister back right away.

  An image of the writhing cat came into his mind. Could that happen to his sister if Nela tried to bring her back to life? He didn’t know how the cat had died and if that might have factored into her rude awakening, but he couldn’t risk that with his sister, especially considering that her death hadn’t exactly been peaceful. And yet he couldn’t stop thinking about the option. Maybe with a little practice Nela would be able to do it.

  Taking a deep breath, he walked up the stairs. He stopped in the doorway, a strange noise reaching his ears. Then he quickly strode into the living room. Nela was gone from the place against the wall, instead she was kneeling where the cat had been moments before and scrubbing the floor with a dirty rag. Darko had no clue where she’d found it. He never cleaned his apartment like that. And she wasn’t doing a good job cleaning the blood he’d spilled. She was smearing the red liquid all over the wooden boards. The noises he’d heard earlier were the small whimpers of distress coming from somewhere deep in her body. He crouched beside her and took the rag from her hands. She didn’t resist him. She sat back on her haunches and alternately stared at the stained floor and her red-tainted hands. Darko wasn’t sure what to say. “I didn’t know the cat would react like that. I’m sorry, but she’s found peace now.”

  “It’s not about the cat,” she said almost angrily, then paused and pressed her fingertips against the floor. Her fingertips came away with fresh blood.

  Darko was confused. He got up, needing something to occupy his hands with. He took the flasks of salt and holy water from his coat, then sprinkled them on the blood stain. He whispered the Latin incantation and the blood disappeared but the wood was smoother and a bit faded where the spell had worked its magic. He fetched a wet towel from the small bathroom and cleaned Nela’s fingers with it. He’d found out that human skin was better dealt with the human way. When he was done, they both knelt beside each other in silence. He wasn’t sure what to say. She was still staring at the place where the blood had been, then back at her hands. Maybe he should try to hug her. That was what people did, what he would have done with his sister, but Nela wasn’t his sister and he was already taking a risk by spending so much time with her.

  The silence was starting to grate on his nerves when she finally spoke again. “Seeing the cat suffer was horrible.”

  Darko frowned. “I thought you said this wasn’t about the cat…”

  She gave him a look that said he was an idiot. Then she closed her eyes and her face crumbled. “It’s unnatural, what I did. It’s wrong. I’m wrong.”

  “No, you’re not,” he said firmly, reaching out for her hand but pulling back before he came into contact with her skin. “Necromancers are one of the most powerful members of our kind.”

  “And the most feared.”

  “Don’t let the foolishness of others ruin this for you.”

  “Ruin this for me?” Nela struggled to her feet. “You make it sound as if it is reason to celebrate. You don’t get it. I don’t want to be able to do this. I want to forget I ever did it. This was a huge mistake. I shouldn’t have come here.” She grabbed her coat and put it on, but her hands were shaking too much to button it.

  Panic clutched Darko’s chest. He brushed her hands away, stopping her from fumbling with her buttons. She looked up at him through her thick lashes. “I’m sorry. If I’d known this would upset you, I wouldn’t have done it. I just thought it would be good to know the extend of your magical abilities.” It was a fat lie, but he was a good liar.

  “But why? Why did you even consider that I was a necromancer? There are so few of them. What were the chances?” She shook her head and dropped her arms, her hands slipping out of his. He hadn’t even realized he’d still been holding them in place.

  “I had a hunch. Something about you made me think it was worth a try.”

  Her eyes seemed to bore right through him, but his mask was firm in place. “A hunch?”

  He opened his mouth for a more elaborate lie when something clanked against the window, making them both jump.

  Chapter 12

  “What’s that?” Nela whispered.

  Darko approached the window and unsheathed his Atlame, then relaxed when he spotted the gray pigeon perching on the window sill. He quickly returned his knife to its holder. The bird smashed its beak against the window, its small eyes fixing Darko with a glare that was too human.

  He unlocked the window and the pigeon fluttered inside and landed on the table.

  “Why did you let the pigeon in?” Nela asked with a hint of panic in her voice. “You’re not going to kill it too, are you?”

  “I told you, I didn’t kill the cat,” he said in annoyance but then he saw the anxiety on Nela’s face. She was scared. “The pigeon won’t die anytime soon, believe me. It’s carrying a message from my Master.”

  Nela’s eyes darted to the small roll of parchment attached to one of the pink legs of the bird. “Your Master?”

  He walked up to the bird and removed the roll of parchment to buy himself some time. How much should he tell her? She was already suspicious. “Yes. I’ve been working for him for years now.”

  “But why do you call him Master? And what are you doing for him?”

  Darko turned the parchment in his hands. “It’s what you call an older wizard you’re apprenticed to. It’s a matter of respect. He’s very old. I get supplies for him and help him with his potions. He found me when I was half starved and close to death. He gave me a new purpose.”

  He could see on her face that she wanted to ask more questions. He lowered his gaze to the parchment in his hands and opened it. The words materialized before his eyes.

  Bring me another heart. Tonight.

  Nela stood on her tiptoes to look at the letter. “It’s empty,” she said in confusion.

  Darko forced a smile. “It’s enchanted so only I can read it.”

  “What does he want?”

  “He needs me to get something for him.”

  “Now? Everything’s closed.”

  “Not the places I frequent.”

  Nela kept staring at the gray pigeon. “Why a pigeon? Why not a raven or something more witchy?”

  Darko felt a laugh bubble up his throat. “More witchy?”

  Her lips twitch
ed but the tension didn’t leave her body. She kept her distance to the pigeon as if she thought it might drop dead and then rise again if she got too close.

  Darko had asked his Master exactly the same question a long time ago. “Nobody pays attention to a dirty city pigeon. There are ten thousands of them in Cologne, probably more. It’s a safe way to transport a message.”

  She nodded absentmindedly, her eyes straying back to the place where the dead cat had been decapitated. His mind was whirling with things to say, with ways to make her see how lucky she was. “Being a Necromancer is a good thing, Nela, honestly. Soon you’ll realize it too.” The pigeon flew out of the window, apparently tired of waiting for him to give it the okay to leave. Nela nodded, but didn’t look at him. “I should go home now. You have work to do for your Master.” Her lips tightened at the word.

  “We still have time. My Master won’t mind.” That was another lie. He was piling them up tonight. Not that he’d expected anything else.

  Nela took a step back, toward the door. “No. I should really leave now.” She turned and hurried out of his apartment and down the stairs. He ran after her. This evening wasn’t going how he’d expected. He’d thought she’d be excited to find out what she was capable of. He would have been, but she never acted how he expected her to. She was a mystery to him. “Wait!” he called, his voice echoing in the hallway. Nela stopped with her hand on the handle of the front door. It was too dark for him to make out her face. But her eyes reminded him of a hunted animal.