DARJA
My conversation with Aggie had been…enlightening, in some ways. Maddening, in others. It seemed that, just like she’d said, I was stuck. Or in her words, trapped. Our spirits were meant to cross over to some sort of otherworldly plane, or something. Be one with the earth. Turn into a river, or a rock, or a leaf on a tree, or something. A week ago, the thought of becoming some sort of nature nymph would have been laughable. Now, it felt…right. Which meant that whatever I was now was just…wrong.
I’d tried to get Aggie to tell me her story, but she’d been tight-lipped, just saying that it didn’t matter anymore. But when I’d asked, her face had gone all pinched and her eyes had gotten even darker, and I could tell it still mattered, a lot. I’d given up on questioning her though, since she was about as open as Fort Knox.
The conversation weighed on me for a long time after that, until all the craziness erupted at the Spring Day festival. But when Sofi had grabbed Stephen’s camera and ducked out of the crowd, all thoughts of Aggie and her theories on the afterlife had evaporated.
I met up with Sofi in the cherry orchard on the eastern edge of the fairgrounds. She hadn’t told me where to find her, but the bond tugged away at my navel until I flickered my way to where she was. She was sitting under a tree heavy with white blooms, almost as if it had been caught in a sudden blizzard. Petals drifted down around her, collecting in her hair and dotting her dress, but she took no notice.
“Whatcha doing?” I asked, then stifled a laugh when she screamed, dropping Stephen’s camera into her lap.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed, looking up at me with an indignant frown. I dropped down beside her and peeked over at the camera, ignoring the way she pulled back when I leaned in close, as if afraid the whole dead chick thing might be contagious.
“Anything interesting?” I said, nodding at the camera. She turned her attention back to the small screen and frowned even deeper.
“It’s weird,” she said, tilting the camera so I could see some shots from the start of the festival. “I mean, it’s creepy, right? He’s just lurking around, photographing our festivals?”
I shrugged. “Maybe he’s got a thing for insulated small towns with dark secrets?”
She shot me a look and I rolled my eyes. “Or maybe he’s writing his thesis, like he said.”
She scrolled backward through the photos, her face darkening with every shot. “I don’t like it,” she said. “I don’t trust him.”
“Oh, you mean the interloper who made a scene and got arrested in front of our whole town? What’s not to trust?”
“I don’t think this is a joke, Darja. Something about this—about him—didn’t feel right. And I think we should—” Sofi sucked in a sharp breath.
“What is it?” I asked, leaning back toward her to look at the camera. This time, she didn’t move away.
I cursed under my breath. It was a photo of Mirtel’s wagon, overrun with hungry chickens on one side, all faded purple and green in the dappled sunlight.
“Maybe he was out for a walk and stumbled across—”
“I don’t think so,” Sofi said firmly. She flipped back again. This time, it was a photo of Mirtel, outside the wagon, gesturing intensely at…no one.
“Aggie,” I whispered.
Sofi continued scrolling. There were images of Mirtel engaged in lively conversation, seemingly with herself, and then photos of Mirtel ushering a terrified-looking Sofi up the stairs of the wagon. A few pictures later, it was Sofi and Mirtel, each looking away from one another, a dozen shattered eggs at their feet.
“How long has this asshole been following us?” I demanded. Sofi was white as a—well, as me—and looked petrified of clicking to the next image. After a long moment, she did, and both of us gasped.
It didn’t look like anything, at first glance. An open field, green and muddy from the spring rains, with a line of emerald forest at the far edge. In the lower corner was a car parked on the grass. I hadn’t known the make or model or even the color, but I knew that it was scented with cloying pine from the paper tree dangling off the rearview. I knew the fabric covering the headrests was musty, scratchy and worn. I knew that it needed new shocks, as every bump had nearly sent me sliding into the floorboards.
“Shit,” I hissed. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Sofi clicked a button and the camera screen went dark. She turned to me with a grim expression. “He knows.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Why the hell else would he follow us?” Sofi said shrilly.
I shook my head, trying to rationalize, but I couldn’t. This creep knew more than he was letting on, and he was researching more than a thesis. If he’d seen what had happened…if he’d witnessed what they had done…
I froze. What if he had?
“What?” Sofi said, and I realized I’d spoken out loud.
“What if he was there?” I said, a building excitement kindling somewhere within me. “If he saw what happened—if he photographed it—there’s evidence. There’s proof I was murdered. We could take the camera to the police. If he saw it all, he can back us up.” I smiled gleefully, feeling like every awful thing that had happened could maybe be made right. That the ones who made it happen would actually pay. I laughed. “Then those bitches are gonna fry.”
But Sofi wasn’t laughing. She sat, stony-faced, hands gripping the camera like she thought she might be able to strangle the secrets out of it.
“I hope I’m not one of those bitches,” she said tightly, and I felt the smile slip from my face.
“Sofi, you know that’s not what I—”
“Then what?” she said, her breathing coming fast and sharp. “I was a part of it, wasn’t I? I didn’t stop it…I didn’t even question it. If I’m in those pictures, I’m as guilty as anyone there.” Her voice got higher, more frantic with every word.
“You aren’t guilty of anything—”
“I let them murder you!”
“Sofi…” I tried to reach for her, out of some sort of leftover human instinct, tried to comfort her by placing my hand atop hers. But instead, my fingers passed through hers. She jerked her hand away, looking at me as if I’d done something unforgivable. I sat back, feeling stung. I knew she felt guilty, knew she wished she’d done something to help me, but right then, it felt like she was more concerned with covering her own ass than getting me any kind of justice.
“We need to talk to Stephen,” I said quietly, afraid to say much else.
Sofi looked at me, aghast. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll just march into the jail and tell them I brought my dead girl as proof. I can go ahead and turn myself in while we’re there. It’ll be so convenient.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling a fight brewing and beginning to warm up to it. “But as the dead girl, I’m having trouble understanding how this is suddenly all about you.”
She laughed, humorless and bitter. “As the alive girl, I’m the one facing a future in prison if they think I had anything to do with you getting killed.”
“I’m already in prison!” I shouted, and immediately flickered out, crackling with static that felt like a lightning storm building up inside me. I flickered back in and saw that Sofi had gotten to her feet, the camera hanging limply from its strap over her shoulder. Her eyes, large and blue and shining with hurt, were filled with tears.
“Is that how it is, then?” she said softly, tucking her hair behind her ear and looking suddenly much younger. “An eye for an eye? A life for a life?” She shook her head, and the tears finally spilled down her cheeks. “Maybe that’s what I deserve.”
“You let me know when the pity party’s over,” I said, my anger softening, but only slightly. “Then maybe we can actually get back to figuring out what the hell is going on around here.”
She opened her mouth to respond, when a sudden eruption of loud voices interrupted. Shouts, and what sounded like a woman screaming. Sofi and I stared at each other. Finally, I nodded back at the fairgrounds. “Go.”
She sprinted off, still keeping the camera clutched close to her side. Feeling rattled, I closed my eyes and let the tug pull me behind her. I flickered out, then back in…in the midst of absolute chaos.
Mirtel, wearing God knew what sort of Rensaissance Festival hodgepodge of skirts, was standing in the middle of a group of townspeople, looking particularly frazzled. Several men and women were circled around her, some sneering, some looking genuinely concerned.
“Oh, so the ‘Egg Lady’ says the town has secrets?” one of them said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well then, we’d better call in the troops.”
“You aren’t listening,” Mirtel said raggedly. There was an ache of desperation in her voice.
“We heard you, Mirtel,” said a woman, whose face was carefully schooled into a calm expression, though her voice gave away her frustration. “We’ve heard you muttering about it for years now.”
“Our girls have had questions,” another one chimed in, looking scandalized. “You can’t go around babbling to yourself about secrets and conspiracies in front of such…impressionable minds.”
“Our girls deserve the truth,” Mirtel shouted. By then, everyone in the hall had turned their attention to the unfolding scene.
One of the men stepped closer, and I saw Mirtel shrink away.
“You’ve made enough trouble around this town,” he said, pulling himself up to his full height and staring the older woman down.
Mirtel was silent for a moment, and then she seemed to steel herself, straightening her shoulders and meeting the man’s eyes with a defiant look.
“You haven’t seen half the trouble I’m about to make,” she said.
I caught sight of Sofi on the other side of the hall, where she was watching the scene, transfixed and horrified. Whether she was concerned for the older woman’s safety, or the secrets she was preparing to reveal, I didn’t know. Maybe it was a mix of both.
She tore her eyes away from Mirtel and searched the crowd until she found me. She let out a breath, and I could see from her expression she felt some small relief knowing that I was there. I felt terrible about what we’d said—about what I’d said, and I hoped she could see the apology on my face.
Our tender moment was interrupted though, as the man gripped Mirtel by the wrist and began pulling her toward him.
“That’s enough for today,” he said, stepping out of the circle and yanking her behind him. “It’s time for you to leave.”
“I will not,” she said, digging her heels in. She was significantly slighter than his stocky frame though, and it wasn’t difficult for him to pull her along. After a few staggering steps, Mirtel fell to her knees.
I looked at Sofi, panic building inside me. The hold he had on her wrist—it had to hurt. This wasn’t okay. We needed to stop this, but—
Suddenly, another man, younger and handsome, yet oozing authority, pushed through the throng, making his way toward Mirtel. I recognized him as the town doctor, though I’d only ever visited the koolis nurse
“What’s this?” he said, kneeling down beside her and putting a hand gently on her shoulder. “There, there, Mirtel. You must be feeling ill. Let’s get you over to the office and get you checked out.”
Mirtel stared up at him with shrewd eyes, but said nothing. The crowd began to relax then, sensing the show was over, and the tension in the room began to fade.
“All right, everybody,” the doctor said, smiling genially. “The excitement is over. Mirtel isn’t feeling well, but we can right that, can’t we, Mirtel?”
She looked up at him then, and something in her face cleared. Her eyes narrowed. She went completely still, her breathing ragged, but steady.
“Yes,” she said quietly, and the doctor’s smile widened.
“Good girl,” he said, patting her again. “Let’s get you up—”
Mirtel spit in his face. The crowd, which had been resuming a quieter level of chatter, went utterly silent.
Across the room, I heard a familiar voice yell, “Dad.”
Sofi? Her dad was the town doctor? I’d never known, but I’d never had a reason to. She pushed her way toward him, until an older girl, maybe her sister, judging by the similarly plaited hair and slightly upturned nose, caught her around the waist and held her back.
Meanwhile, the doctor nodded to the man who’d previously been holding onto Mirtel, and he lunged forward, grabbing her arms and wrapping her long skirts around her ankles like a binding. Mirtel began to struggle, but again, she was no match for the barrel-chested brute. Another man stepped in to help, and they heaved her up and began to carry her toward the rear entrance. A woman—Sofi’s mother, perhaps—walked up behind the doctor and put a hand on his shoulder, but he shook her off.
“I’ll be at the office,” he said shortly, rising to his feet and pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his face.
She nodded and scuttled off in the opposite direction. The doctor, who was wearing a dark green polo shirt, straightened his collar and turned a sudden smile on the crowd.
“You know, I think this might go down as one of the most exciting Spring Day festivals in Vaikesti history,” he said, and the crowd laughed, though somewhat uncertainly. “Well, you won’t be disturbed again,” he said, his voice warm. His hair was dark blond and his piercing blue eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. Sofi had his eyes. “Carry on with the festivities,” he said, gesturing encouragingly as a few of the women moved back toward the kitchen area. “Mirtel will be in good hands. And I know she’d want you all to continue celebrating.”
She’d want nothing of the sort, I was sure. I didn’t know exactly what had happened, but I could guess that the revelation of our bond had driven Mirtel to action. I knew that Sofi and I had to work this out. We had to see the rest of what was on Stephen’s camera, and find out if he was on our side or not.
I looked toward Sofi, hoping she’d understand my look, but she was being guided firmly toward the door by her sister. She glanced back once and met my eyes, and I could see she was as confused and overwhelmed as I was.
I gave her a reassuring smile, even though I didn’t feel sure about a damn thing, and tried to communicate wordlessly that I’d catch up with her later.
In the blink of an eye, she’d disappeared into the crowd.