Between the Shadow and the Soul

by Susanne Winnacker

“I need to find a way to get into the Witch Tower.

  Mikael started laughing, a rough, crackling sound. “Didn’t your boyfriend tell you that it’s impossible?”

  “He did,” Nela said indignantly. “But I thought maybe you knew of a way.”

  “I don’t. If you want to free your mother – which is risky and will most likely fail, mind you – then you’ll have to do it when she’s outside.”

  “But Darko said you were trying to destroy the Brotherhood with a few other witches. I thought maybe you’d have figured out a way to hurt them.”

  Mikael’s face darkened. “Sadly, most witches decide to lay low in times like this. They are all scared of the new addendum. They fear it’s only the beginning. It’s not easy to find new members. There hasn’t exactly been going on much in the last few weeks. Everyone is looking out for themselves right now, not looking for trouble with the Brotherhood.”

  “But,” Nela began but he raised a hand. “I thought you came here to do business with me?”

  “We did,” Darko said. “We want you to remove the tattoo now.” He glanced at Nela for confirmation and she nodded. Her back had been throbbing without pause in the last couple of weeks. It would only get worse.

  Mikael glanced into the empty aisle between his stall and the others, then shrugged. “Why not? It’s not like customers are lining up to buy something from me.” He stepped out of his booth and closed the drapes. The other vendors followed everything with rapt attention. One of them was a woman, whose lose skin hung off her bones; she looked at least a hundred years old. She gave Nela a crooked smile, then shuffled forward and gripped both her hands. Darko tensed but didn’t step in.

  “I’m sorry about your mother,” she said in a whispy voice. “And sorry about what is to come. There’s so much loss in your future.” Her misty eyes became distant. “So much darkness and death.”

  “Enough,” Darko cut in, and pulled Nela away from the old woman. Nela gave him a startled look. The woman watched him with haughty eyes.

  “What does she mean?” Nela asked.

  “Ahhh,” Mikael said. “Old Zara is a clairvoyant. If you believe in things like that.” He winked. The older woman slunk away, muttering under her breath.

  “You mean she can see the future?”

  “She’s a fraud. Even we can’t look into the future, because it’s not written yet. She only used your mother’s trial to make up drivel. Now come along before Darko manages to antagonize more of my fellow mongers.”

  “Where are we going?” Nela asked distractedly, her eyes still fixed on the old woman who had sat down on a high chair and the only piece of furniture in her small booth. Apparently she was only selling her visions. Nela didn’t believe in prophecies or fate, but something about the woman’s words and her piercing eyes had shaken Nela to the core.

  “There are a couple of rooms in the back for more delicate business,” Mikael said. He led them past the last row of booths and toward a wall with four openings, covered by long black drapes. Two of the “doors” were restrooms if Nela understood the signs correctly. Mikael led them toward the door on the right and opened the drape for them. The room was more of a cupboard. There was barely room for the three of them in addition to an examination table and a chair.

  Mikael nodded toward the table. “You should lie down and bare your back and whatever other places your tattoo has reached.”

  Nela glanced at Darko and he gave her an encouraging nod, but she could tell how tense he was. He leaned against the wall beside the table. She removed her coat and then pulled her shirt off, leaving her in nothing but a black bra. She crossed her arms over her chest and peered over her shoulder. Mikael wasn’t even looking her way. He was busy removing items from a leather pouch onto a steel table beside the chair. There was a vial with clear liquid, one with a whitish liquid and a small bag with green powder, but what made Nela’s heart skip a beat was the gleaming knife – his Atlame – that he pulled out.

  Darko stepped close to her and cupped her face. “Remember that Mikael told you it’ll be painful?” She gave a nod. “He’ll have to cut open every line of the tattoo with his Atlame.” He stared at her. “You can still change your mind.”

  “No,” Nela said. She stepped back from him and stretched out on her stomach on the examining table. Mikael walked up to her. She could practically feel his eyes burning into her back. “You should have come sooner,” he said. “Your tattoo has spread a lot. This’ll take a while. And needless to say, it’ll hurt like hell.”

  Chapter 26

  Darko felt as if his muscles were going to burst. He’d wanted Nela to remove her tattoo from the start, but now that she wasn’t just anyone to him anymore he loathed the idea of having to see her suffer. And she would suffer. Mikael was right. The tattoo had spread over both her shoulder blades and even a few inches down her spine. Magic always seemed to come at a higher price for her. Maybe because she had necromancer blood. It could mean that any kind of magic she practiced held a hint of darkness, and that was what the magic in the tattoo punished the most.

  Nela reached back and unclasped her bra. Darko wished he could have seen her do this under different circumstances for the first time. Her muscles quivered as she rested her chin on her crossed arms and closed her eyes. “Okay,” she said quietly.

  Mikael unsheathed his Atlame. It was a bit shorter than Darko’s but just as sharp. The blade gleamed menacingly as Mikael dipped it into the flask with holy water. Darko always found it funny that despite the Brotherhood’s conviction that all witches were evil, holy water didn’t burn them. He was sure Grand Master Claudius hated that fact.

  Mikael touched the tip of the blade against the bottom of the ‘M’ that began the three lines of the original tattoo. Nela tensed. Darko put his hand on top of her head. He didn’t know what to say and so he gritted his teeth and watched how Mikael pressed the blade into Nela’s pale flesh, drawing blood. The cut wasn’t deep and only a few droplets welled up, and yet Darko had to stop himself from barreling into Mikael. Mikael followed the lines of the letters, cutting them into Nela’s skin.

  Malum in Se

  Nela didn’t let out a sound but Darko felt her tremble under his palm, could see the tendons in her slender neck tighten.

  Ubi lex, ibi poena

  The blood that still trickled from the cuts had a darker tinge to it. As if part of the ink and iron came up with the blood.

  Consumimur Igni

  Mikael reached the end of the words the Brotherhood had tattooed into Nela’s skin, then he began tracing the lines her magic use had created and eventually he pulled back the knife. Nela’s entire back was covered in blood and her tattoo was a mess of stark red flesh. Her breathing was shallow and her hair stuck to her sweaty forehead. “Nela?” Darko whispered. “Do you need a rest?”

  Mikael shot him a look.

  “No,” Nela croaked. “Just…just do it.” Her voice was so weak. Darko wasn’t sure why this bothered him so much. He’d promised the Master that he had his feelings under control, but at this moment he wasn’t so sure. If he couldn’t even see her like this, how could he watch her die by the hands of a demon?

  Mikael dipped the blade into the second vial and it let out a sharp hiss. Nela turned her pale face in the direction of the sound.

  “This is a special acid, it’ll burn the iron from your wounds and help me remove the magical bindings.”

  Nela put her head back down on her arms without a word. Mikael chanced a look at Darko. “Go on,” Darko said, his voice foreign to his ears.

  Mikael pressed the acid-covered tip into the cut. Nela whimpered, her back arching, hands clenching. Mikael didn’t stop. He chanted under his breath as he drew the lines of the tattoo with his blade. The cuts began to smoke and reddish-gray froth leaked from them. The stench of iron and blood and sweat and something acrid filled the small room. Somehow it tugged at Darko’s memories but he didn’t let them resurface. A tremor went through Nela and then she lay still.
Panic gripped Darko and he quickly felt for her pulse but she was breathing rhythmically and her heart was beating. “What happened?”

  “She lost consciousness. Burning out the iron is painful. Now don’t interrupt me again.” When Mikael was done, he put the blade down on the small table and reached for the clear bag with the green powder. With his fingertips he carefully filled the cuts with the powder. “What is it?” Darko asked.

  “A herbal mixture of chamomile, lavender oil, shepherd’s purse, sorrel, purple cone flower and peat bog from a hanging moor at the Brocken, taken during Walpurgisnight. It’ll heal the cut and draw out the remaining iron. The magic is already burnt out.”

  “You were at the Walpurgisnight celebrations? I didn’t see you there,” Darko said, stroking his hand over Nela’s long dark hair. She was stirring under his touch and her breathing changed. Her back was a mess of blood and iron and green herbs, but Darko could see the cuts already closing up where Mikael had treated them.

  “I saw you, but you seemed busy with your girl, and I prefer to stay in the background. There are too many interesting herbs to collect and rumors to hear to waste time participating in the festivities.”

  Nela lifted her head, her eyes half closed. “I feel as if a train ran me over.” She licked her lips, then tried to sit up, clutching her bra against her chest. She winced. “Is it bad?” Darko asked, helping her perch on the edge of the examining table.

  “Much better than before. It tingles and stings, but it’s okay.” Her eyes became hopeful as she turned to Mikael. “So…is it gone?”

  “Gone is a relative term. It doesn’t work anymore and it won’t spread, but you’ll always carry the tattoo on your skin.”

  “Can I see it?” She tried to peer over her shoulder, but flinched and stopped. Mikael held out a small mirror and Nela’s eyes grew wide.

  “It looks worse than it is.” He pulled out a towel from below the examining table and held it under the tap. Darko took it from him.

  Mikael raised his eyebrows. “But don’t touch the cut. The herbs should stay in there a bit longer.”

  Darko gingerly swiped the wet towel over the skin around the healing cuts until most of the blood, iron and green powder were gone. Nela smiled up at him and if Mikael hadn’t been watching them with keen interest, Darko would have kissed her. Instead he brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. She was still pale and a few drops of sweat glistened on her skin. Mikael rummaged in a box below the examining table and pulled out a dressing for the wound. Darko helped Nela put it over her wound, then she got dressed again and let out a sigh. “I’m so glad this is over,” she said. “Do you always do the tattoo removals here?” She let her eyes wander through the room.

  “Most of the time. Sometimes people ask me to do it at their homes.” He shrugged, then he turned his gaze toward Darko. Darko knew what came now. Mikael wasn’t a bad guy. He’d talked to Darko when he had first come to Cologne and even paid him dinner when he didn’t have money, but he also wanted to get paid for his services. And he was paler than before. This kind of magic cost energy. Darko reached in his coat pocket where he’d stashed his wallet. “How much?”

  Nela frowned. “I should pay it. I’ve got some money with me.” She searched her bag until she came up with a bright orange purse.

  “That’s 150 Euro.”

  “I only have 30.”

  Darko dug out the 150 Euro from his wallet and handed them to Mikael. “This one is on me.”

  “But,” Nela began. Darko interrupted her. “You can invite me to dinner. I’m feeling like Doner Kebab.”

  Nela scoffed. “That’s not even ten euro for both our meals.”

  “Let the guy be a gentleman for once,” Mikael said with a smirk. “I’ve never seen him so smitten.”

  Darko glared at him, dread settling in his bones. If the Master heard that he was acting like a lovesick fool, he’d have a hell of a time convincing him it was all for show. He really wished he could convince himself too.

  Nela hopped off the examining table and pressed a kiss against his mouth, her lips hot and soft. He wanted to pull her against him and deepen their embrace but again Mikael’s stupid grin stopped him. He took Nela’s hand and gave the man a nod. “So we’re done here?”

  “We are,” he said in an amused voice. He fished something from the satchel on the table. A small vial with a blue liquid and handed it to Nela. Darko frowned at the thing. He was quite sure that none of the healing or pain potions had that color.

  “That’s a gift,” Mikael said with a wink. “Contraception potion just in case. Better safe than sorry, right?”

  Nela’s face turned tomato-red and Darko pulled her out of the room and back toward the rows of stalls. The Black Market was a bit more crowded now that it was later and Darko recognized many faces. He chanced a look at Nela. She was still gripping the vial in the hand he wasn’t holding. “You can throw it away, you know? Mikael sometimes doesn’t know his boundaries.”

  Nela didn’t say anything. She followed him silently toward the staircase but Darko noticed her pocketing the potion. That probably shouldn’t have made him as excited as it did. After all, it didn’t mean anything. Yet he couldn’t help but hope that maybe they would sleep together soon. A wave of guilt hit him and he froze in the middle of the staircase. If everything went as planned, she’d soon be dead because of him and he was actually thinking about getting her naked? What kind of monster was he? But his body didn’t care for his qualms. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything. Nela didn’t ask him why he was stopping. She seemed glad for the chance to catch her breath. Even with her hair damp with sweat and her skin pale from the ordeal she went through, she was still gorgeous and he wanted her, even though he shouldn’t. This was all getting out of hand. If he kept going like that, he wouldn’t be able to go through with the plan. And he owed it to his sister.

  “I’d like to show you my sister’s grave?” He was startled by his own words. What did he hope to accomplish with that? Did he think he’d feel better about sacrificing Nela if he showed her the reason for it? Or maybe he was hoping to see clearly how much more important his sister was to him when they both were in one place?

  ***

  Nela shivered. She’d been ever since they’d left the underground. It wasn’t even that cold. After all, it was already May and the evenings were getting warmer, but she had a feeling that the sensation of being cold didn’t have anything to do with the outside temperature; it came from a place deep inside her.

  She bit into her doner kebab pocket, hoping that the hot food would disperse some of the coldness. It was the first time she’d eaten all day. Maybe that was why she’d fainted during the tattoo removal. It had been more painful than she’d anticipated. Her back had burnt as if someone was slashing it with a hot poker. But that hadn’t been all. She had felt the magic of the tattoo clawing at her skin as if it didn’t want to release her. She’d thought she was being torn apart until she’d finally lost consciousness.

  Darko kept glancing her way over his own kebab pocket. “How’s your back?” he asked after having swallowed.

  “It’s okay.” There was no pain, only a dull tightness. “I’m feeling free.” For the first time since the Binding Ceremony months ago, her magic could pulsate freely in her body, under her skin, in her fingertips without her tattoo punishing her for it.

  The entrance of the Melaten cemetery came into view at the end of the street. It was a gray brick arch with a triangular top part and gray metal doors. Nela had never been to it before. Since her parents had come to Germany with her, there hadn’t been a funeral she’d had to attend. She threw the remains of her food into a trashcan and stopped in front of the gates. A sign announced that it would close in thirty minutes. “Are you sure?”

  Darko stared past her into cemetery. He’d been in a strange mood ever since he’d asked her to go to his sister’s grave with him. She wasn’t sure what to make of that.

  Darko reached for
her hand and without a word in reply, he pulled her into Melaten with him. A wide paved path led straight ahead, lined by tall trees, their branches brimming with fresh green leaves. An elderly man sat on a bench in a row to their left, his hat beside him and his gaze fixed on a gravestone a few feet across from him. He was the only other visitor in this part of the cemetery. Nela could tell that Darko wasn’t in the mood to talk and so she let her eyes wander over her surroundings as he led her past massive burial vaults, marble angels and tall trees, their trunks covered in ivy. Ivy also covered the smaller arch they passed into the part of the cemetery reserved for her kind. The tombstones were a bit smaller and there were no crosses or other religious symbols. Massive trees turned the unpaved pathway into a shadowy tunnel, untouched by the early evening sunlight.

  The silence tightened around them and Nela tried to quiet her breathing, which felt too loud for its surroundings. Darko’s steps slowed down, his hand around hers loosening its grip. There was a hint of trepidation on his face. Finally, Darko stopped in front of a small gravestone sitting on a perfectly tended grave. Fresh white roses perched in a vase in the middle. The grave was overgrown with a carpet of tiny violet flowers. In their midst was a candle covered by a red glass dome. It was almost burnt down. Nela was surprised it was burning at all. Darko must be visiting quite often if he managed to change candles before they burnt down.

  Darko let go of her hand entirely and knelt before the grave. He reached for the candle, then stopped. “I forgot to bring a new candle,” he whispered, his arm dropping.

  Nela touched his shoulder. “It’s okay. You can come back another time. The grave is beautiful.” Nela ran her eyes over the words engraved into the pale stone. Milena. Darko had never mentioned her name in front of Nela. Maybe it hurt too much.

  “Do you come here often?”

  Darko lifted his face. “Not often enough.” There was anguish in his dark eyes. Nela fell to her knees beside him and took his hands. They were curled to fists and didn’t relax at first. “You belong to the world of the living, Darko. Don’t you think your sister would understand?”