SOFI
I still didn’t trust Stephen. I felt bad for what I’d done, using his camera to try to set him up as a suspect in Darja’s disappearance, and I understood that he was our best option—maybe our only option—to get the book translated, but I still didn’t trust him. None of that explained why he’d been skulking around, taking pictures of us in the first place, and even if his motives were harmless, I couldn’t understand his fascination with the Vaikesti.
To my relief, getting the camera back wasn’t too difficult. Jared had made copies of the images and added them to Stephen’s file, and with another warning to stay away from Vaikesti he released the camera back to its owner, who had the good sense to keep his mouth shut this time.
Stephen eyed me warily as he followed me out the front door of the municipal building and across the parking lot to my car. Darja kept shooting meaningful glances my way, but I didn't know what to say, how to explain, so I simply said, “I’ll show you when we get there,” and gave what I hoped came across as a sincere and apologetic smile as I gestured him into the car. Surprisingly, he didn't balk or ask any questions, but I could feel his suspicious gaze on me as I pulled out onto the road.
Darja had passed through the closed door and settled into the backseat, but as soon as we hit the road she flickered and phased out of sight. I wondered how much control she had over the transition. I wouldn’t put it past her to have deliberately gone on ahead just to avoid the intensity of the awkwardness that permeated the interior of the car like a dense fog.
By my side, Stephen took in our surroundings with a wary gaze. I heard his soft, indrawn breath when I turned off the road and onto the dirt path that led toward Mirtel’s wagon. He clearly knew where we were, and I could feel the unasked questions building in the silence between us.
I jerked the car to a stop and flung the door open, eager to escape the stifling interior, and Stephen followed suit, sparing a glance at the cluster of chickens before following me up the path to the door.
I’d been right; Darja had gone on ahead to alert the others, and the three of them were gathered around the wagon steps, watching us approach. I sagged with relief at the familiar faces and joined them, putting distance between myself and the outsider. The spell from the day before was still active—we were all able to see each other—and I wondered how long it would last and if it would fade naturally or had to be deactivated. There was so much we didn’t know.
“You must be Stephen.” Mirtel’s voice was warm and welcoming and I frowned; clearly I was the only one here who had a problem with the guy.
“And you’re Mirtel.” Stephen’s tone was polite and his eyes were wide, and I realized he wasn’t suspicious, he was fascinated. He may be wary, but his expression was also intensely curious, and I realized this might be the most interaction he’d ever had with the Vaikesti that didn’t involve being shunned or arrested. I tried to suppress a snort, and Darja raised her eyebrow at me.
“I am indeed. Welcome to my home; we’ve all been expecting you.”
I saw Stephen’s eyes dart to the side, clearly checking to see if he’d missed a person before he gave Mirtel a cautious smile. Across the steps Darja’s mouth had stretched into a grin. She was actually enjoying this.
“Well, come on in everyone,” Mirtel said, ushering us up the stairs and into the tiny space. “We have a lot to talk about. Does anyone want tea?” She didn’t wait for us to answer before bustling to the kitchen and setting about the familiar routine.
The small space was cramped with the five of us, but oblivious, Stephen gingerly took a seat on the worn loveseat, his eyes huge behind his glasses as he looked around, drinking in his surroundings. He had clearly never been inside a Vaikesti home before. I took a seat in the armchair in the corner, putting as much space between us as possible, and watched as he took in the worn quilts, the piles of books, the shabby decor.
“Look at him.” Darja was watching Stephen too. “What do you think he expected to find in here? Pentagrams and chalices full of blood?”
I snorted, my face flaming with the effort to keep in my laugh, and Stephen’s eyes flew to me.
“Okay, girls,” Mirtel said mildly from the kitchen where she had laid out three teacups and was waiting for the water to boil. “You know he can’t hear you, so let’s give the poor boy a minute to adjust.”
At her words, Stephen grew very still. He opened his mouth, then closed it. His eyes landed on me again, and despite myself I actually felt a small stab of pity. I knew first-hand what it was like to have your whole world turned upside down, to find out that everything you thought you knew was wrong. I wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone. I forced myself to give Stephen a small reassuring smile. I knew there was no way to ask for his help on the book without revealing everything we knew—Darja, Aggie, the bond, everything. I prayed I was wrong about him. I prayed he would be worthy of the huge amount of trust we were about to place in him.
The piercing whistle of the kettle broke the silence, and Mirtel quickly poured the tea and joined us in the cramped living room, distributing steaming cups before settling into the rickety rocking chair.
“Stephen, we find ourselves in a difficult situation,” she began, leaning forward and meeting his eyes, “and you appear to be one of the only people who can help us.”
“Me?” His voice came out in a squeak and he pushed his glasses further up his nose.
Mirtel nodded. “I realize this is all very sudden, but we hope you’ll be willing to help.” She glanced my way. “Sofi, would you get the book?”
I rose and hefted the book from where it sat on the kitchen counter, then deposited it onto the coffee table in front of Stephen with a thump.
“This is the book I was looking at in the library,” he said, glancing up at me as he carefully opened the cover. “With the blank pages. The one you ran off with.”
I nodded, reclaiming my seat in the corner. “We need you to translate it.”
His mouth fell open and I watched as a hundred questions seemed to pass through his mind. Finally he settled on, “You can’t translate it? It’s your language.”
Affronted, I opened my mouth to reply, but Mirtel cut me off. “I’m afraid most of us don’t speak the old tongue any more. It’s primarily ceremonial, and most of us only know a few words here and there.” She took a sip of her tea. “Sofi led me to believe you have been studying the language. Do you think you could translate it accurately?”
“The whole book?” Stephen flipped through the pages, his auburn hair falling over his forehead, obscuring his expression. “I mean…yes, probably.” He looked up. “But…why?”
I grimaced. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to just do it and not ask any questions?”
Darja snickered from her spot on the floor by the table, and Mirtel glanced my way, a soft reprimand in her eyes.
Stephen looked at me, his expression uncertain as if he wasn’t sure if I was joking. “Um…no.”
I sighed and slouched down in my chair. “You’ll regret it,” I muttered under my breath.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” Best to jump right in. I slid out of my chair and joined Darja on the floor in front of the coffee table, reaching out to flip through the pages until a familiar spell was facing up.
“You said this was a spell book, right?”
He nodded, staring hard at me.
“Well, you were right. And we figured out how to use it. The page with the words,” I indicated the page on the left, “is meant to be read by the living.” I gestured to Mirtel, who obligingly read the familiar words there—the first spell we had ever tried.
“And this page, the blank page,” I moved my hand across the book, “isn’t actually blank. It’s filled with words, you and I just can’t see them. This page is meant to be read by the dead.” I nodded to Aggie, who, with a long-suffering look, spoke the words and finished the spell.
I caught sight of Stephen’s expression, his eyes huge and round, for only a second before the lights went out.
It seemed as though all sound had been sucked out of the wagon along with the light, and the silence was absolute for a moment before Darja began to chuckle. “Damn, Sofi. I didn’t realize you were so theatrical.”
I ignored her, and after a moment Mirtel’s soft voice broke in. “Valmis,” she said, and Aggie repeated the word. The lights immediately flickered back on, and the four of us all turned toward Stephen.
He looked thunderstruck.
“It…you…it’s real.”
He leaned forward, his fingers hovering above the blank page of the book as if afraid to touch it, then he suddenly sat up straight, staring around wildly as the significance of my words penetrated.
“The dead. How—who?” He fixed his gaze on me, and I found myself unable to interpret his expression. “I’ll help you,” he said. “Anything you need. But you have to tell me everything.”
A lump formed in my throat. How to explain? How to begin? I looked helplessly at Mirtel, and she met my gaze silently. If we did this, we were betraying secrets the Vaikesti didn’t talk about even amongst each other. To share them with a stranger, an outsider, I didn’t think any of us had really considered what that would mean. What a real betrayal that was. Mirtel gave me a slight nod, pain mixed with the encouragement on her face, and I turned to Darja. Her face was stony, her expression hard as her eyes bored into mine, and I knew without a doubt that she had no reservations. She had already been betrayed; nothing was holding her back, and if Stephen could hear her, she would have been talking already. I took a deep breath and gave her a firm nod. My loyalty was to her, and I would not let her down. If she believed so strongly this was the right thing to do, I would trust her, even if I didn’t trust Stephen.
I twisted to face the boy on the couch, his shocked expression at odds with the intensity of his eyes, his need to know, to understand. I took a deep breath and began to talk.
It was hard.
It was hard to spill the secrets the Vaikesti had protected through generations.
It was hard to relive the Ceremony yet again. The fire. The screams only I could hear. The magic that became real. I told him about meeting Mirtel at the koolis. I tried to backtrack and explain what the koolis was, but he already knew. He knew so much about us already. I introduced him to Darja, who he couldn’t see. Mirtel introduced him to Aggie, who sat stonily in the corner. I told him about the book, about finding him with it in the library, realizing Darja could see the text where I couldn’t, all of us gathered here, sounding out words together in this same spot just the day before. The spells we had tried. The spells that had worked.
So much we knew.
So much we didn’t understand.
Through it all, Stephen sat motionless, questions brimming in his eyes but he held them back, letting me get it all out.
Finally my words began to dwindle, and I slumped back, resting my weight on my hands. Despite my exhaustion, strangely I also felt lighter.
Stephen sat back against the mismatched cushions, and I could see from his unfocused gaze that his mind was racing, trying to process everything he’d learned.
“So, you’ll help us?” Mirtel asked, leaning forward. “The book is too dangerous to use without understanding what it says. But with it, with your help…maybe we can understand what has happened to us.”
Stephen seemed to pull himself together with an effort, and he nodded. “Yes, of course I’ll help. I’ll translate the book, but…” He glanced down, skimming his fingers again over the blank page. “I can’t see the words. I’ll need…”
He trailed off, but Mirtel nodded. “Aggie can read them to me, and I’ll write them down for you. We need to know what both sides say.”
“Of course. Also, I’ll need to take the book with me.”
I started, sitting up. “What? Why can’t you do it here?”
He gave me an apologetic shrug. “I told you, I’m not fluent. I have texts at school that I’ll need to help me translate it. I assume you need it to be pretty accurate.”
I grumbled, and he looked at me, his eyes softening.
“Sofi.” He waited until I looked up, meeting his gaze. “Don’t think I don’t know what it means that you shared all this with me. I understand the risk you’ve taken, and I don’t hold it lightly. I’ll take good care of the book. I promise. Here,” he added, jotting something on a scrap of paper from his backpack and handing it to me. “Here’s my number. You can check in with me any time.”
I nodded, accepting the paper from his outstretched hand. I would trust him, because I had to. But as I watched him lift the heavy book and slide it carefully into his backpack, I prayed we hadn’t all just made a huge mistake.