Page 101 of Souls We Rip

“No.” There was no other option. What if something happened and I couldn’t concentrate? What if the child were traumatised by Ana ripping a soul? She was already in a dubious place after taking so many lives.

Without a single word, I travelled myself to Maramureș. But as my body was circling in the air, my cloak got pulled.

“Ah!”

In that moment, a darkness took hold of me. I could have ended the child’s life, then my own. Eugen lay limp on the stone, holding the jumări for dear life. I ran to him, checking his pulse. Luckily, he landed in a pile of snow, but he could have fallen in the freshly dug grave next to it.

“Child! Have you gone mad?” I spoke in a harsh whisper, roaming my eyes over his body.

He opened his eyes. “I was bored! And shouting won’t change a thing!”

My fists clenched, and I looked around us. Dozens of colourful gravestones stood in the famous Cemetery of Săpânța, known as The Merry Cemetery. Bright colours from blue to yellow tinted the tombstones. On them were painted the people buried under, with cheerful expressions. It was the only cemetery which celebrated death.

In contrast with every other cemetery in Romania, Merry Cemetery’s luminosity brought the idea that the afterlife was a joy and not pain.

I helped the child get up; his hands clutched the piece of food. He looked around, his light eyebrows going up. “Oh my...” he breathed, examining a tombstone.

My eyes searched the cemetery for a woman wearing her long, ebony hair down with a bright, wool cloak with twisted chain stitches on the edges and her scythe, which would cut anyone’s skin. But in the sea of cheerful graves, I didn't notice anyone.

I took a step towards the exit of the cemetery when a glimmer caught my attention.

“Eugen,” I whispered, turning to him. The boy was trying to read who was laid to rest under a red painted cross. There were jokes written on it, and the boy tilted his head to read. “Stay down,” I warned, crouching next to him.

He listened, but his eyes were still focused on the cross.

The snow crunched under thick boots, and he walked towards the middle of the cemetery. A man who had an axe and a shovel advanced to the largest of the tombstones. Leaving his tools aside, he rubbed his hands and smiled. The man took off his sheepskin hat and his cojoc, throwing them in the snow.

His hands grabbed his shovel and started digging the dirt covered in snow. The man did not notice the woman who had her scythe ready to strike.

“Are you robbing graves, sir?” she asked, her head hidden by the cloak.

My pulse stilled as I took her in. She was out of this world, her purity shining from inside and out.

I almost didn’t notice the man turning and trying to hit her with the shovel. My hands twitched, trying not to jump to her aid. Eugen yelped next to me but bit his tongue. He clenched his fingers around my wrist, his eyes fixing on Ana.

She stopped the shovel with her scythe, her hood falling off her eyes. Surprised by what was hidden behind the fabric, the man fell to his knees.

“I’m sorry!” he whined, trying to touch Ana. She took a step behind, placing the scythe over his head. “I just wanted to sell their jewellery for money! For my family!”

“Liar! I know you do not have one,” Ana’s whisper travelled to us. “You gamble and throw money on carnal pleasures.”

She was about to decapitate the man when her body stilled.

At her hesitation, the man scurried away, leaving everything behind.

Just as another scythe appeared in the air, I travelled between her and the blade. Its wielder was not skilled and missed my chest, grazing my hand instead. With my mind, I sent the one who wore a deer skull to the grave before us. It thrashed when Ana passed her scythe right between its skull.

She came next to me, watching as the body of the member of the Order vanished. “Your brother sent him, didn’t he?” she asked, gripping my hand.

“Most likely.”

Small steps pushing the snow away made us turn our heads. Eugen was still eating those damned jumări as his eyes strayed from us to the grave. “It looks like you need another soul.”

Before, I might have choked him in fury; now, I only wished to let the winter swallow his words.

“He is trying to stop us,” Ana observed, watching me. “If he wants you to be human, why would he stop me?”

My hand found hers, and I intertwined our fingers. “Perhaps he wants to jest with us.”