Page 45 of Souls We Rip

“Stop it!” the girl ordered, placing her body between my servant and me. “We are not your rag dolls!”

I squinted my eyes at her, halting the servant’s body from descending into the pits of the Earth. The dirt covered everything except his head, his mouth opened into a silent plea.

My cloak thrashed in the wind I created with my fuming thoughts.

“If not that,” I said, pulling her body closer, “what are you?”

She gasped, her blue eyes widening from the movement. Something nagged at me, and I released the hold on her body, retreating into my chamber.

As soon as my body touched the mattress made of goose feathers, I pulled the covers over me.

Damn that woman and everything she touched.

Ana

As soon as the Goat Man left and my lungs worked again, I rushed to aid the ghost who thrashed and thrashed, trying to get out of the trap his master had set. The dirt looked like an anthill, Andrei being the only ant.

I stopped in front of him, watching the continuous movement of the ghost’s head, his eyes rolling.

“You can pass through walls, can’t you?” I inquired, placing my hands on my hips.

It stopped, Andrei’s eyes fixing on my face. “I can do that, yes.” His voice sounded strangled, fear coating it.

“Well, can you not lift yourself?” My eyebrows shot up. I would have helped the poor soul if my hands didn't pass right through his body.

“I believe I can.” With a sudden move, he stood in front of me, the ground rearranging itself. “Thank you, woman,” he said, a small smile spreading over his translucent lips.

“No problem,” I responded, sharing the smile. “Please, call me Ana. That is the name my parents gave me.” In our times, it was usual to give the babies saint names and the godmother’s name. My godmother was my grandmother, who did not want to have her first name passed down, considering it outdated: Brândușa. She was named after one of the first flowers that bloomed in the spring.

“The one who has this name is a good soul and faithful,” the ghost said, taking me out of my memories. He floated to me, the smile remaining on his face.

“Yes, indeed. Although my mum named me after Ana, Manole’s wife, and Saint Ana,” I explained, gathering my hair over my shoulders. It was wet from the rain that still drizzled.

“It suits you. Ana, the woman who sacrificed herself for her husband and his monastery. The one who let herself be built into the walls, so her husband could take all the glory.” He ignored the saint part, as I expected.

Chuckling, I started to walk towards the entrance of the cave. “Do you feel better, Andrei?”

He stopped floating, watching me from the corner of his eye. “No one has used my name since my death. It’s been more than a year now,” he sighed, his eyes moving towards the ground.

“With a master like yours, I would be afraid to utter anything,” I mumbled, looking at the entrance to its room with disdain.

I understood that the Goat Man did not want to come to my mythical baptism, but at least, he should have answered all my questions. I wanted more details on what I would have to expect from my new life.

“And still, woman... sorry, Ana,” he corrected, “you’re not.”

My brows furrowed. “Of course, I am scared of him. But sometimes, my blood boils, and I do not want to give it satisfaction.”

He nodded. “He is tired of ripping souls on and on and on,” Andrei babbled, his head moving in the direction I was looking.

“Sure, and that is why it needs another servant.”

“Exactly! You are not as slow-minded as he thinks!” he cheered, his hands going into the air.

I tilted my head. “The brute thinks of me as stupid?”

That hurt more than I could imagine. Was the love I carried for living beings making me stupid in their eyes? I thought kindness was a strength that was slowly disappearing from the Earth.

It is much easier to be evil and hurt people than to be selfless and help your peers.