by Sara Clancy
“But your loyalty is to the dead,” Mihail said with a forced smile.
“Yeah.”
A flurry of snow and phantom giggles interrupted their conversation. The onslaught lasted for a few minutes, burying Abe in snow and shaking a bit of the patchwork free. The laughter grew louder as Abe dug himself out, making every movement dramatic and pulling faces. Despite everything, it made Mihail smile, too.
“There’s a hole in our door,” he said.
Abe glared at him before he shook himself like a dog, sending the slush flinging in all directions.
“Maybe I didn’t know what to do,” Abe retorted.
“I thought a ghost taught you some woodwork.”
“And carpentry,” Abe grinned as he gathered another ball. “Two different people.”
Before he had met Abe and the Claymonts, Mihail had assumed that a ghost’s ‘unfinished business’ was normally a task. Something to be done or a secret to be told. Like it was in the movies. It hadn’t occurred to him that it might not be so dramatic or eventful.
Some just wanted to tell their life story in its entirety, with no regard for age appropriateness. Others simply didn’t want their lifelong passion to follow them to the grave. That’s where Abe came in. He listened and learned. And it had left him with an ever-increasing array of random skills.
“So this is just to piss her off?” Mihail asked as he gestured to the door.
Abe shrugged one shoulder. “I’m kinda petty. Incoming!”
Mihail flinched but failed to get out of the way in time. The snowball hit him right in the side of the head, the sudden chill leaving him stunned. While Abe made a token protest to the boy, he couldn’t keep the smile from his face.
“Sorry ‘bout that."
“He’s got a good arm,” Mihail said as he shook out his hair.
“I know.”
While Mihail looked up at his friend, the expression had turned from happiness to pride. Abe had been the one to teach the boy to throw.
“Has he told his name yet?”
“Nope. Hasn't spoken a word. But he smiles a whole lot more, so I count it as a win.”
“Do you think he’ll move on soon?”
Abe arched an eyebrow. “What was with that change of tone?”
“I didn’t change my tone.”
“Yeah, ya did,” Abe turned to him, his eyes studying him carefully. “Has granny been saying that I’m keeping him around on purpose?”
“What? No. Umm ... no.”
“Damn, you suck at lying,” Abe said.
“Well–”
“He’s just a kid. I'm not gonna shove him into another plane of existence if he’s not ready. That kind of stuff is traumatic. Hence, why we have ghosts in the first place. And while we’re on the subject, maybe you should be asking why he doesn’t come inside anymore.”
“I can’t see him,” Mihail reminded Abe. “I never know where anyone is.”
“Oh, right. Well, he can’t get back in. Your granny kicked him out.”
“How could she even do that?”
Abe closed his eyes. “Jehovah is testing me,” he muttered before continuing in a louder volume, pronouncing each word as if it was a sentence on its own. “Draciana Vaduva is a witch.”
“Just because she learned a few things while living with the Coven–”
“Living with?” Abe cut in. “Has she finally admitted that she wasn’t a prisoner?”
Mihail scowled. “She’s perceptive. She learns through observation.”
“They’re spells. It’s a little harder than just increasing ya vocabulary.”
“It doesn’t mean that she’s a ...” Each word came out softer than the one before it until the sentence died unfinished.
Abe snorted. “Can ya really believe something ya can’t even say?”
All Mihail knew, with any certainty, was that he was utterly, emotionally exhausted. He could almost feel his mind retreating from the conversation.
“Is it possible that we not talk about this right now?”
Abe’s features softened. “Yeah. Probably for the best.” Suddenly smilingly, he tossed over a freshly made snowball. Mihail barely managed to catch it intact. “Come on, kid. Ya need a distraction.”
With a roll of his eyes, Mihail reminded him that he didn't have Abe’s innate abilities. There wasn’t any way for him to see the little Russian boy, let alone make contact.
But his friend just opened his arms wide. “Ya can see me, can't ya?”
The beginnings of a smile tipped the edges of Mihail’s lips. “Are you suggesting that the boy and I should gang up on you?”
“No, I’m saying that I can take both of you. No problem.”
Mihail was winding up, ready to send the snowball careening right between Abe’s eyes, when a low rumble caught his attention. A fresh spike of panic pierced him, robbing the breath from his lungs as he turned to Abe. But his friend wasn’t looking to the castle. Instead, he was staring at the gap created by the lowered drawbridge. That was when it hit him; the sound wasn’t demonic. It wasn't the ghosts. It was just an approaching car. The knowledge didn't bring any comfort. He felt exposed, his head already creating a list of things that would be impossible to explain.
“Are ya expecting someone?” Abe asked.
“Of course not. Who do I know?”
Lifting his gaze, he searched the walkways that ran the length of the battlement for his Bunica.
“Abe,” his hand shot out to tap urgently against Abe’s arm. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched, saw the moment Abe had spotted it, too. Bunica Draciana stood on the battlement, awaiting their visitor, and she wasn’t alone.
“That man’s a ghost, right?”
“Nope,” Abe said.
“So, who is he?”
“No idea,” Abe mumbled, his eyebrows knitting together. “But does he look oddly familiar to ya?”
The car broke free of the tree line, weaving its way between the high snowbanks to pull up behind Abe’s battered pickup truck. Every muscle in Mihail’s body tensed to the point of pain when he figured out the word scrawled across the side.
Police? They know about grandpa! The children! The rational part of his mind couldn't compete with the rising terror. They know! They know! They know! A fine tremor rattled through his hands, growing until the snowball crumbled between his fingers.
“Did you call them?”
“No,” Abe licked his lips and forced a light smile. “Any chance you’ll let me do the talking?”
“I’m the charming one,” Mihail reminded as they started across the courtyard.
“Do ya know how guilty you look right now? It might be better if ya head inside.”
“I can keep it together.”
“Yeah, the guy in the Telltale Heart said that too. Didn’t work out that well.”
Mihail glanced at the towering man. Only Abe would use Edgar Allen Poe as a point of reference right now. A part of him wanted to demand that he take this seriously, but then he noticed Abe subtly lift one hand to the side. It was such a small twitch that he almost missed it. He’s telling the boy to hide, Mihail realized. That brought back the flood of nerves that Abe’s jokes had been trying to soothe. If Abe felt the need to protect the dead child, nothing good could be coming their way.
“Don’t suppose you have any ghost friend whispering to you what this is all about,” Mihail tried to keep his tone light, but knew he failed.
Abe squared his shoulders, his hands twitching as he battled the desire to ball them into fists.
“They’re all goin’ into the ground,” he admitted in a whisper. “Something's spooking them.”
What could scare a ghost? The thought crossed Mihail's mind, chased instantly by the answer. A demon. The ghosts fled from them when they could. Like a school of fish sensing the arrival of a shark. Mihail studied the two men that emerged from the police car. They were both well-dressed, their appearance carefully attended to, and Mihail didn’t re
cognize either of them.
Please don’t scream, Mihail silently pleaded to Tereza, his eyes skirting to the point of the forest before he could stop himself. Please don’t. Images crowded his mind, dozens of scenarios of what could happen if the officers stumbled across the catacombs and released Tereza and the demonic children.
Abe took advantage of Mihail’s distracted state to seize control of the conversation. Lifting his arm high, he waved in greeting, calling out a few words in Romanian. Mihail recognized enough of them to know he was asking if they spoke English. For a moment, it was a relief to hear that they could. Then the implications of that sunk in. Given how few people in Rupt Teren spoke anything beyond their native tongue, the fact that both of them were bilingual was disconcerting.
Before the conversation could start in earnest, however, a sharp voice cut across the courtyard. It sounded so familiar that Mihail choked on his breath and questioned his sanity. It was his voice.
“Thank you for arriving so swiftly, officers.”
Mihail was still struggling to understand what he was hearing when he spotted himself emerging from the battlement’s staircase. His jaw dropped and he snapped his face up to Abe, needing to know if he saw this, too. Abe only stared at the doppelganger, carefully arranging his face into a mask of indifference. Looking back, Mihail spotted Draciana a step behind the stranger. She moved swiftly, gracefully, her head high but her hands buried deep in the folds of her coat sleeves. Mihail struggled to tear his eyes off of his clone. This can’t be real, a voice whispered in the back of his head. It can’t be. Not knowing what else to do, he pushed closer to Abe, waiting for him to react, resolved to follow his lead.
“What is happening right now?” Mihail whispered anxiously.
His mirror image still heard him. Eyes narrowed with rage, he jabbed a finger towards Mihail. Instantly, Abe shifted to tuck Mihail behind his considerable bulk, cutting off his view of the imposter. It made it all the odder to hear his own voice snap.
“Right now, you are going to be forcibly removed from my property.”
“Who are you?” Abe asked, his voice barely more than a growl.
The officers twitched at the hostile tone, moving in perfect unison to cup the butts of their still holstered side arms. Mihail couldn’t really blame them. Abe was almost twice the size of everyone present. A tower of muscle and carefully crafted intimidation. Even the threat of him becoming violent was enough to make anyone anxious. If Abe noticed it, he ignored them in favor of squaring off with the man standing alongside Bunica Draciana.
With mounting frustration, Mihail tried to duck around Abe but was kept back by one massive arm. He didn't need to see the man to recognize the absolute conviction in his tone.
“I am Mihail Vaduva, Grandson of Draciana Vaduva, and the heir to this castle. That scoundrel that you're protecting is an imposter.”
“Hold up,” Abe stammered. “Did you seriously just use the word scoundrel?”
“That’s what you take away from this conversation?” Mihail hissed and made another attempt to get around Abe. Again, he was quickly thwarted.
“Officers, kindly remove that man from my property.”
“My Bunica's property,” Mihail corrected.
“How dare you talk to me,” Mihail heard his own voice snap.
“Officers,” Abe said carefully. “I don’t know who this man is, but I can vouch for the guy behind me.”
“I want him off of my property,” the imposter snapped.
Before Mihail could respond, Abe reached back and grabbed his upper arm, his fingers squeezing slightly in a warning to stay silent.
“Do you have any proof of what you’re saying?” Abe asked.
“I don’t need to prove myself to you.”
“You’re the one throwing accusations around. Ya should have something to back it up,” Abe said with more than a hint of warning.
Tension flooded the air until it felt like a mucus sludge pouring into his lungs.
“Sir, do you have any form of identification?” It took Mihail a second to realize that the officer’s question had been directed at him.
“Oh, um, I have my passport in my room. Would that count?”
“Forgery.”
“And what is your great proof?” Abe challenged.
Weaving again, Mihail managed to catch a glimpse of his doppelganger under Abe’s arm. It wasn’t any easier to see himself once again. The slope of his shoulders, the lines and curves of his face, same hair, same eyes. But there was a stiffness in his movements that Mihail didn't have. He moved awkwardly as he swept one hand out towards Bunica Draciana.
“My grandmother is willing to profess that this man came here under false pretenses.”
Abe tipped his head to the side, “Do ya mean attest?"
A slight flush crossed the man’s cheeks as he shifted his weight. It almost looked like he had been knocked off script and was waiting for someone to whisper the next line. But the expression passed quickly. Lifting his chin, he turned his attention to the police officers and pointed to Abe.
“This is a clear-cut case of identity fraud. I want them both arrested. Now.”
“This is insane,” Mihail protested, struggling against Abe’s hand, hard enough to make the towering man rock. “I’ve been here for months. If I wasn’t her grandson, wouldn’t she have told someone by now?”
“You took advantage of her fragile state of mind,” the stranger said.
Mihail ducked onto a sharper angle to glare at the man from under Abe's arm. Why isn’t Abe doing anything? This has to be a trick. A trap set by the ghosts!
“There is nothing wrong with Bunica’s state of mind.”
He watched his own curls bob on someone else’s head as the man scoffed at him and turned to the officers.
“My grandmother is very old. Her health has been slipping in recent years. It has come to the point that she could no longer care for herself and my parents sent me to care for her.”
The man lied so easily that it left Mihail unsure of himself. What if he believes everything he's saying?
“You can imagine my surprise when I arrived to find this imposter claiming to be me. I want him arrested and charged.”
“Great story,” Abe said quickly. “But no proof.”
One of the officers took a step closer. “Is this a family beef? Are you two twins?”
“I’m an only child,” Mihail said.
“From a different family,” the stranger added.
With a flash of anger, Mihail tried to surge forward again. Abe easily held him back.
The officer's voice was carefully calm as he spoke, “Obviously there’s been some miscommunication here.”
“Miscommunication?” the stranger said, his voice like ice. “Is that what you call it? Because what I see is a serious crime committed against a vulnerable senior citizen.”
“Bunica,” Mihail stressed. “Could you please say something?”
His grandmother looked at each person in turn. Then she lifted her chin, her gaze portraying her iron will, and pointed one boney finger towards Mihail.
“That boy is not my grandson.”
“What?” Abe and Mihail snapped at once, although their tones were very different.
Mihail felt like someone had ripped the air from his lungs and the earth was bucking under him. What is happening? Why is she doing this? Who is he? The demon. Is he the demon? The questions battered against each other in his mind until it was impossible to get any of them past his lips. He didn’t know how long he was standing there, dumbfounded and useless, but Abe grabbed his shoulder and shoved Mihail back behind him again. It was then that he noticed the police officers were closing in on them.
“I’m Mihail Vaduva! I'll prove it. Let me get my passport.”
“He’s trespassing,” Bunica Draciana said. “Kindly remove him.”
“What? Bunica, what are you saying?”
“The truth,” Mihail’s doppelganger said.
“No, I want him arrested!” the doppelganger shrieked.
Abe scoffed. “Just on your word?”
It shocked Mihail to see the look of disgust cross the stranger's face. He’s never seen himself with such open revulsion. “Our word.”
“You’re the one that said that her mind’s goin’,” Abe said. “If you're being honest about that, doesn’t seem like her testimony should be taken without question. It would be just as easy for you to twist her up, right? So, it’s just as likely that you’re a fake.”
“He is!” Mihail squawked.
“Sir–” the officer said.
Abe nodded but took a step back, his grip on Mihail's arm forcing him to follow suit.
“Look, ya know this kid. Yeah, ya might not have talked to him in person, but ya would have heard about him. All his good works with the food bank?”
“He throws a few cans around so he can get away with everything?”
Abe turned to the imposter. “Careful. Your mask is slipping.”
Crimson blotches stained the man's neck, rising to cover his face. Then he snapped a hand out towards them again.
“Get them out!”
The officers ignored the demands as they turned back to Abe. “Yes. We know him. But we also know you. Abe Claymont, right? Caused some trouble a town over.”
“I beat up a known pedophilic murderer. If anything should get ya a free pass, that’s it.”
“Maybe,” one of the officers fought back a smile as he continued. “But look at you. We can’t leave a guy like you here when we have two tiny people saying they want you out.”
“So I’ll leave,” Abe pacified. “But Mihail's never caused you a problem. He ain’t dangerous. I’ve heard him apologize to bugs for stepping on them.”
As the police officers glanced at Mihail, they didn’t look entirely convinced. Abe lifted both his hands, something between surrender and a shrug.
Leaning forward, Abe motioned to Mihail with his head and whispered, “He collects dried flowers as a hobby.”
“And leaves,” Mihail protested before he realized he was working against his own interest. So he smiled sweetly as he added, “And buttons.”
