by Sara Clancy
Backtrack through the dining room, the kitchen, through the main foyer. Mihail traced the path in his mind. The inner wall took a meandering path. If he were fast enough, he'd be able to intercept his grandfather. A ghost doesn't have to follow the rules, a voice whispered in his head. The realization wasn’t enough to keep him from sprinting as fast as his legs would allow. There wasn’t anything else he could do.
Fire burned in his chest and rippled along his throat and legs as he ran. He burst back into the kitchen, leaped over the spilled cream, shoulder barged through the opposite door, and ran faster still until he exploded into the foyer.
He never saw Abe. Not until after they had collided. Pain sparked across Mihail's chest as he bounced off his friend and fell to the cold marble floor.
Breathing too hard to speak, he waved a vague apology as he got his feet back under him. Abe caught his arm, effortlessly keeping him where he was.
“What happened?”
Mihail couldn’t speak, but he didn't need to. Pointing frantically to the second floor was all it took for Abe to join the pursuit. Racing past Bunica Draciana, they threw themselves up the stairs, Abe taking them two at a time and Mihail pushing himself until he was sure he would trip. The moment they reached the landing, Mihail lunged across the wide corridor, clutched the concealed latch, and wrenched the door open. It moved with a soft whisper and a cloud of dust.
There was no source of light within the walls, so they could barely see past the first coil of the stairs. No one was there. The railing felt like ice as Mihail gripped it tightly and leaned his torso against it, peering down into the darkness. Nothing stirred. It was hard to breathe with the bar digging into his stomach. That didn’t stop him from leaning harder against it, desperate for any proof of what he had seen.
“He was real,” Mihail babbled, the words barely more than pants. “Maybe I went the wrong way. Took the wrong staircase. He might have doubled back. Or he's hiding in there.”
Abe grabbed his shoulder before he was able to descend the metal stairs. Mihail had already lost his will to fight by the time Abe pulled him back to the middle of the corridor. So he laced his fingers together, cupped his hands over the crown of his head, and tried to pull in a few deep breaths.
“What has happened?” Bunica Draciana asked without a hint of concern.
With her ever-present grizzly-bear coat, it was impossible to get a real idea of her size, but her age hadn't robbed her of her ballerina-like grace.
“Well, give him a second,” Abe growled.
“I do not care for your tone.”
“So?” Abe snorted, the sound rough and dismissive. His voice lost its icy edge the moment he addressed Mihail. “It’s okay, take ya time.”
“Bunicul,” he gasped.
Abe frowned. Within a second however, his eyes grew soft and he patted Mihail’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
Mihail shook his head. “I saw him.”
He was barely able to slip each word between heaving breaths.
“I shouldn’t have made you open it,” Abe mumbled.
“At least we agree on something,” Bunica Draciana said.
Abe glared at her, “I didn’t know he was in there.”
“But you suspected someone was,” she countered. “Mihail is a gentle soul. You had no right to expose him to such things.”
“Well, I wasn’t really thinking straight. What with the blinding pain and all.”
“That is hardly an excuse!”
Abe squared his shoulders and drew himself to full height. “Ya really wanna talk about weak excuses? At least I never lied about knowing English. Who does that?”
“Stop!” Mihail cut in, his voice cracking on the word.
Mihail found the silence that followed nearly blissful, even if there was a sharp tension to it. “I’m not talking about his ... remains. I saw him. His ghost.”
Unable to find the words to explain himself, he just gave up on the sentence and shifted his attention back to catching his breath.
“You saw his ghost?” Bunica Draciana said very slowly.
Abe just seemed confused. “What did he look like?”
“Like,” Mihail flopped his hands down. “Like me. Like I was looking at my twin. Flesh and blood and real.”
Taking a step closer, Abe lowered his voice, like he was trying to make sure that the next words would remain between them. “Are you okay?”
“He didn’t hurt me.”
“Yeah. Sure,” Abe dipped his head slightly and held Mihail’s gaze. “But are you okay?”
It took a second for it to click. Abe wasn’t asking about his physical health. Mihail didn't know if he should be grateful or resentful that the first concern was for his emotional state.
“I’m okay,” he said softly. “It was actually kind of nice to see him like that. I don’t want my only memory of him to be ...” Licking his lips, he let that thought drop as well.
Abe opted to give his shoulder a reassuring, sympathetic squeeze. The contact helped to settle Mihail’s chaotic mind. To know that he wasn't alone, that Abe was there to help him, gave him more peace than he had anticipated. As his thoughts quieted, he jolted.
“Your hand–”
A broad smile spread out across Abe’s face and he lifted his hand. Thin, sterile bandages cupped each of his fingers. Every slight motion left the air smelling like medical cream.
“It’s fine.”
“Fine?” Mihail challenged.
“Upside of being a paramedic,” he winked. “It’s a lot easier to get ya hands on the good painkillers. I still feel it, but I ain’t gonna lose anything. Hey, don’t go pulling that face. This ain’t your fault. I should have known better than to touch that thing.”
Mihail nodded, his eyes drifting to the floor. “Where’s Bunical?”
The humor vanished from Abe’s voice. “Right where we found him.”
Mihail whimpered, “He shouldn’t be in there.”
“There was no way I could touch him without doing more damage to both of us.”
“And I blacked out,” Mihail met his gaze. “You took care of me.”
“I’m ya friend. It comes with certain social obligations.”
He knew Abe was trying to get him to smile and he really tried to. But his stomach had turned into a bottomless pit that was pulling him down into the depths of despair. It wasn’t the first time he had failed Abe. And, when he stopped to think about it, it wasn’t the first time he had wronged his grandfather, either. Both of them had needed better from him and he hadn’t done anything. He was less than useless.
“Hey,” Abe said softly, “think ya can help me out here? Ya granny is driving me nuts.”
At first pass, Mihail thought Abe was trying to drag him from his self-pity. Then it hit him.
“Did you tell her?”
“Yeah. And she’s not really reacting the way she should.”
“I did not realize I was falling short of your expectations,” Bunica Draciana cut in. “Tell me, is it your standards for women or senior citizens that I am not living up to?”
“Oh, don’t even start, witch!” Abe growled. “When someone’s told they have a torture chamber in their dungeon, they’re supposed to have some kind of reaction. Not stony silence.”
“Only a fool would live in a castle and not assume there was a dungeon.”
Abe turned to her and smirked. “How about the torture devices?”
“Aren’t they normally found in dungeons,” she said as she lifted her chin defiantly. “None of this means that I ever went down there.”
“Right. You never did,” Abe swept his arms out wide, his smile becoming bitter and almost cruel. “Not you. But the Coven did, yeah? You had to have known they did.”
“I had no control over them.”
“Leaves a sour taste in your mouth to say that, doesn’t it?”
The top of her head didn't even reach Abe's shoulders, but at that moment, she seemed twice his size. “I di
d not know that my Mihail was down there. I never knew what they did to him.”
“And aren’t ya just all cut up to learn about it now.”
“I’m under no obligation to mourn by your standards.”
Before Abe could respond, Mihail screamed again, begging for them both to stop.
“Please, I can’t take this right now. Can we please have a truce? Just for now? Maybe even be civil until we can give grandpa a proper burial.”
Abe and Bunica Draciana refused to look at each other. But they nodded. Even though he didn’t expect that either of them would keep their promise for long, he still took it as a win. It was the best he was going to get.
“So, what do we do now?” Mihail asked helplessly.
After a few heartbeats of utter silence, Abe spoke up. “I think we should get something in your stomach before you go into shock.”
“What about grandpa’s ghost?”
“Bunical,” Bunica Draciana corrected. “He was Romanian, as are you.”
Abe winced and seemed to physically bite back his first response. “Why don’t you head down the way you came, and I’ll follow the hidden paths, just in case Mihail Senior wants to make an appearance?”
Not knowing what else to do and suddenly exhausted, Mihail nodded, said his thanks, and numbly headed back down the stairs.
Chapter 4
Baking the sweet treats wasn’t as distracting as Mihail had hoped. Reading the recipe wasn’t mentally taxing, and his body could create both the dough and the sauce without any real contemplation. Bunica Draciana had come with him. Without a word, she had sat down at the small breakfast nook and patiently waited for him to brew a pot of coffee. It made him realize just how much of a set pattern they had already set up between them. He couldn’t quite recall when she had stopped asking him to do these little things. To clean or fix or make. It was just understood and didn’t need any comment or discussion. Not too long ago, he would have found that notion a comfort. He’d never really had a chance to be so comfortable with someone. But today, there was something about it that left him uneasy. Still, he made the pot of coffee and brought it over to her.
Unconcerned by anything that had passed, she sipped at her coffee and stared off into the distance. The first time Mihail had witnessed it, he had thought that perhaps they were alike. Both ready to mentally burrow into themselves, seeking a hiding place from the harsh conditions presented to them. He had quickly been proven wrong. Bunica Draciana didn’t hide from anything. Instead, she contemplated. Evaluated. Studied what was before her and how best she could conquer it. So, Mihail had left Draciana to her thoughts and bustled around the kitchen, seeking his own distraction.
They had both looked up when Abe had entered through the dining room door. But the massive man had kept the silence. Mihail wondered if he knew how much that gave away. He didn't see Bunical. He's worried about me. He thinks I'm going to break.
So Buncia Draciana had nursed her coffee, Mihail had baked, and Abe had turned his attention to cleaning the spilled cream and eggs from the stones. No one said a word, and Mihail politely ignored the expectant looks the others were giving him. They know you're not like them. They know you can't take it. The mocking voice made him cringe, but also added to his resolve. This time would be different. It was easy to think it but harder to push back against the guilt and horror that was rampaging through his head. What haunted him the most was the fear that he wasn’t doing this right. That there was something else he was supposed to do right now, something he should say or feel. Something Bunica Draciana needed from him and that he was letting her down. The conviction rolled around his skull like an ocean storm, adding to his guilt but failing to offer any answers. As the silence stretched out and his task came to an end, he longed for someone to just tell him what he was supposed to do.
Eventually, the profiteroles were done. He held off the conversation a little longer by brewing another fresh pot of coffee. But that too ended quickly and he was forced to take his seat at the breakfast nook. Abe finished cleaning up, tossed the dishcloth over his shoulder, and joined them. He winced when he unthinkingly took the mug with his injured hand. Abe was the first to pop one of the bite-sized balls into his mouth. He sucked the sticking butterscotch off of his fingers, the noise making Bunica Draciana scowl.
“These are good.”
Mihail smiled slightly and wrapped his icy fingers around his own mug, enjoying the warmth that seeped into his skin. It was Abe’s watchful, focused gaze that reminded him he was supposed to be eating, too. Surely, if I were going to go into shock I would have done it by now, he thought as he selected a ball and bit it in half. They each had a few pieces before the barrage of questions looming over their heads couldn’t be denied any longer.
“You didn’t see him, did you?” Mihail asked quietly, trying to look more concerned about getting the right coffee to cream ratio.
Abe spent much more time sipping at his coffee than he normally would. “No.”
“You don't always see them, correct?” Bunica Draciana said thoughtfully. “If the spirit does not want to talk to you, it would be beyond your sight.”
“I see whoever’s hanging around,” Abe corrected sharply. “Though, it’s possible he buggered off before I got there.”
“Perhaps he does not deem you worthy of an audience.”
Abe’s eyes narrowed and he gnashed his teeth, trying to keep his response to himself. Mihail was grateful for the restraint.
Tapping his fingers against the side of his mug, he asked. “I’m sure he was there. I'm not going mad. I swear.”
“Of course, you’re not,” Bunica Draciana cooed.
Her slender, aged fingers carried a surprising amount of strength as she cupped his forearm.
“It’s completely natural for grief to play tricks on one’s mind.”
“Tell me again what he looked like,” Abe cut in gruffly.
“Well, um," Mihail leaned back enough to swipe a hand before himself. “There isn’t much more of a description I can give you.”
He tried to smile, but he knew it looked forced. Still, Bunica Draciana graced him with a slight giggle.
Moving to cup his cheek, she smiled. “Both such pretty boys.”
Gripping his mug tight, he hoped that he managed to hide his flinch. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his grandmother. He had so little family that he couldn’t afford to reject anyone. But something drastic had shifted between them after he had found out about her childhood. Usually, he could ignore it. But it always came to mind when she offered any physical affection.
The towering mountains cut the valleys off from the rest of the world. It was a breeding ground for monstrosities, and many evil souls had relied on the snow-capped peaks to contain their secrets. Witch hunts, wars, the genocide of Romani, and the abuse of the children left behind. So much blood had seeped into the earth that Mihail sometimes wondered if the soil bled when disturbed.
Logically, he could understand the struggles that it would take to live through such horrors. Here, only the strong could survive. The determined and brutal. But knowing this and witnessing it in action were two very different things. Weeks had passed since the ghosts had shown him a vision of Draciana as a child. Made him watch as she had rounded up her abusers at the orphanage, put them in the industrial oven, and left them to burn to death. It made a shiver race through him even now. She had explained her desperation. Through neglect or cruelty, they would have led her to her death eventually. As far as she was concerned, they had forced her to choose; their lives or her own. She had made her decision.
“Yeah, he’s adorable,” Abe’s deep voice snapped Mihail from his thought.
It didn’t matter that he had kept his tone dismissive, Bunica Draciana turned to him with suspicion burning in her narrowed eyes. Rather than making him shrink away, Abe snorted.
“Seriously? You’re that worried that I’m pulling your precious, little boy to my side?” His smile grew to flash his shar
p teeth. There was no warmth in it.
“You do not deny it.”
“Bunica,” Mihail groaned. Abe cut in before he could continue.
“Ya gonna have to pick up ya game, Drac, because I ain't that easily distracted. The topic is your dead husband. Either jump on board or step aside.”
Bunica Draciana stared at him, a deep scowl increasing the lines around her face. Eventually, she turned away, settling into her seat as if Abe didn’t exist. He looked equal parts amused and annoyed by the dismissal, but quickly got over it and resettled his full attention onto Mihail.
“Was there anything strange about him?”
Confusion swept over him, and he blinked up at his friend. “Strange? Well, he was a ghost.”
Ducking his head slightly, Abe tried to hide his smile. He failed. “Yeah, I wouldn’t exactly call that strange.”
“Everyone else would,” Mihail said.
“Right. Just, humor me, yeah? Take a moment to think it over.”
“I told you. He looked solid. As real as flesh and bone. He was standing right there.” Straightening, he pointed to the exact position by the door. “I came out of the pantry and he was just standing there, watching me.”
“And then he walked away?”
“Yes.”
“Lumbering? Graceful?”
“Graceful.”
“His feet touched the ground?”
Mihail paused. “Well, um, I didn’t look.”
“What was he wearing?”
Bunica Draciana turned her head just enough to stare up at the towering man. While her face remained an unreadable mask, Mihail couldn't help but feel that she was expecting something. And that answering the question correctly had suddenly become very important. He replayed the encounter over in his mind but it didn’t help.
“I can’t remember, exactly. I was focused on his face. I didn't look.”
“Take ya time,” Abe pressed. “Whatever you can remember.”
