Serafina and Viktor left for Mala Kapusta early on market day. It would take many hours to reach the small town, which was just past the border in the kingdom of Vargas. Her mother and sisters were there to see her off, still talking about Serafina’s inheritance and what she should do with it if it was indeed money. Although she couldn’t wait to leave so she wouldn’t have to hear any more of their suggestions, being alone with Viktor when the coach started rolling was worse.
They sat side by side in the confined space of a rented carriage. Viktor’s nose whistled when he breathed and he picked his teeth with his pinky finger, flicking what he found onto the floor. The first time he did it, Serafina turned away in disgust and watched the town creep past as the coachman edged around stopped wagons and dawdling people. Then, suddenly, an old woman emptying a chamber pot out a second-story window startled the horses, and the coachmen had to climb down from his seat to calm them.
“Do you know how much of an inconvenience this is?” Viktor asked her as the coach began to move again. “I had to postpone an important meeting I had planned for today. I better get something out of this.”
“You mean aside from my thanks?” asked Serafina.
“I mean some of whatever the old woman is giving you tonight. It costs a lot to support your sister, and I have other expenses as well.”
“I don’t know if she’s giving me money.”
Viktor shrugged. “Whatever it is, I want some. You’re supposed to be smart. I’m sure you can figure something out.”
“But—”
“No more talking,” Viktor said, shutting his eyes. “I need my rest.”
By the time they entered the countryside, Viktor was asleep with his mouth open and his head tilted back. He snored in raspy snorts and breathy grunts, his snoring as loud as the carriage wheels jouncing over the rutted road. Serafina couldn’t help but think about what it would have been like if Alek had been there instead. They would have sat close together, looking out the same window, pointing out the things that caught their eye, sharing their thoughts and laughing when they saw something funny. Alek would have told her some of his bad jokes, and she would have laughed simply because he found them so amusing. When they grew tired of that, they would have talked about their plans for the future. After a while she probably would have dozed off holding one of Alek’s strong, callused hands. Her head would have been pillowed against his shoulder and—
Serafina gasped when Viktor snorted and flung his arm wide in his sleep, hitting her with his hand. She edged as far from him as she could and sat bolt upright for a while after that. Although she’d doubted she’d be able to sleep sitting next to him, Serafina eventually dozed off, wondering how her sister could stand Viktor.
It was early evening when they finally reached Mala Kapusta. It was a medium-sized town that had been established at a well-traveled crossroad and spread into the forest on either side. Most of the houses were made of wood, with curved roofs and carvings decorating the lintels and eaves. Painted bright colors, the buildings contrasted with the greens of the surrounding forest. Although trees had been cut down within the town, the forest was still close enough to give one a sheltered feeling.
The carriage stopped in front of an inn with a swinging wooden sign that bore the picture of a bloody tooth and a rusty nail. The coachman opened the door and reached in to help Serafina, but Viktor pushed her back and climbed out first, saying to the man, “Collect our bags while I arrange for our supper.”
Serafina glanced down the street, waiting for the coachman to retrieve their two overnight bags from the carriage. Taking a deep breath, she filled her lungs with the scent of the fir trees of the forest and the honeysuckle that grew in yellow and white profusion beside the inn.
“Stop staring like a simpleton and bring those bags inside, Serafina,” Viktor said from the door of the inn. “I’ve told the innkeeper that we’ll be having supper here. I turned him down when he asked if we wanted rooms. I think it’s odd that your great-aunt wants us to come to her house so late at night, but then, wealthy people are often eccentric.”
The innkeeper, a smiling, friendly-seeming man, nodded from where he waited behind Viktor. “That’s very true,” he said, although Serafina had the feeling that he would have agreed with anything Viktor said.
They ate their supper in silence. Viktor devoured all his portion of the pork pie, crusty herb bread, and soft cheese as if he were starving, then scraped the rest of Serafina’s onto his own plate. She was about to protest but decided that it wasn’t worth an argument.
Serafina jumped when Viktor slapped his tankard on the table. “Where is that serving girl?” he demanded, looking around. Spotting her in the far corner talking to another patron, he waved to catch her eye. When she didn’t acknowledge him, he stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled. The girl gave him a horrified look and started across the room.
“If Widow Zloto were here, she’d tell you that it’s bad luck to whistle inside,” said Serafina.
“Oh, really?” said Viktor. “This is how much I care about Widow Zloto and her superstitions!” He snapped his fingers inches from Serafina’s face and smirked when she jerked away from him. Sticking his fingers in his mouth again, he whistled even louder.
“Please don’t do that, sir,” the serving girl said, bobbing a curtsy. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck to whistle inside a building?”
Viktor smiled at the girl and shook his head. “No, I didn’t know that. In that case, I won’t do it again!”
The innkeeper appeared behind the girl. Seeing Viktor’s empty tankard, he gestured to it, saying, “Fill this for our guest, Mila.” As the girl hurried off to fetch a pitcher, the innkeeper pulled another chair to the table and sat down. “So,” the man said to Serafina, “your brother-in-law tells me that you’ve come to see your great-aunt.”
Serafina glanced at Viktor, annoyed that he’d told the man her personal business.
“You may know the woman,” said Viktor. “Her name is Sylanna.”
The man looked puzzled. “I can’t say that I’m familiar with the name, and I thought I knew everyone. Maybe she goes by another name here.”
Serafina glanced out the window. It was already dark and she could see the first star in the sky. “Shouldn’t we go soon?”
“Not yet,” Viktor said as he watched the serving girl approach with a pitcher. “We have plenty of time.”
“How far are we from a tavern called the Bialy Jelen?” Serafina asked the innkeeper.
“Not far,” he said as the girl refilled Viktor’s tankard. “Just turn left, then left again at the corner. The Bialy Jelen is at the edge of the forest. If you’re worried about the time, listen for the church bells. The last one rang at 8:30.”
“We need to go, Viktor,” Serafina said, reaching for her bag.
“He said it wasn’t far. I’m going to finish this first,” Viktor said, and took a long, noisy gulp of mead.
“Fine, then you can stay here and I’ll find it myself. I’m not going to be late for something this important just because you want to drink.”
“I’m coming!” Viktor grumbled, reluctantly setting the tankard back on the table. “But I’ve heard it’s bad luck if you don’t finish all of your drink!”
When they left the inn, the lights spilling from the cottage windows made it easy to see, but as the homes gave way to shops that were closed for the night, the street became darker and the shadows more ominous. The moon was just the smallest sliver in the sky, giving them little additional light. Serafina glanced at Viktor, who was walking in the middle of the street, turning his head from side to side as if he expected something to jump out at him. “Don’t you think it’s odd that the innkeeper didn’t know Sylanna?” Serafina asked him. “This town isn’t that big; I should think everyone would know everyone else.”
Viktor began to hurry when a well-lit tavern at the end of the row of shops came into view. “She’s probably an eccentric old woman who keeps to herself,” he said. “Or maybe he knows her, but the townspeople don’t like talking about one another to strangers.”
They were passing the Bialy Jelen when Viktor peered ahead and came to a sudden stop. “This is the last building. I don’t see any houses here. We must have turned the wrong way. We have to go back.”
Serafina shook her head. “We turned left, like the innkeeper said. It has to be here somewhere. The letter said it was just past the tavern called the Bialy Jelen. Wait, there’s a house set back from the road. I think I see a candle in a window.”
“It’s too dark …,” Viktor said, lingering near the tavern and the last pool of light. He was still there when Serafina left the road. “You probably made us come on the wrong day,” he called after her. “It doesn’t look as if anyone is expecting us. I doubt that’s even a house.”
“This is the right day,” said Serafina. “And this is a house. See, there’s a fence around it.” It was lumpy and uneven, but it was white, so at least she could see it. Serafina had scarcely set her hand on the gate when it swung open with a loud creak.
“What was that?” Viktor demanded.
Serafina glanced back to see that he was still standing in the road.
“Just the gate,” she told him, and turned toward the house. From what she could see, it was a small building with an overhanging roof, but it was set so close to the forest that the starlight didn’t reach it and she couldn’t make out any details.
Viktor had yet to approach the gate when Serafina knocked on the door. “Aunt Sylanna?” she called, stepping inside. “It’s me, Serafina.”
Sparkling light shimmered in the corner by the bed. It was so bright that Serafina had to close her eyes and rub them. When she opened them again, a single candle flickered on a table by the window. Aside from the fire in the tile stove in the corner, it was the only source of light in the one-room cottage, but it was enough to show her that no one else was there. I must be imagining things, Serafina thought.
Suddenly Viktor, who was still standing outside, shouted with surprise. Serafina turned to see why and saw that the gate had slammed shut on its own. She was about to call to her brother-in-law when a cat ran over the threshold.
“Chicken hut, chicken hut, take us away!” shouted a voice inside the cottage. Then the door to the cottage closed with a bang as the floor tilted beneath Serafina’s feet. She staggered and fell to her hands and knees, sliding backward until she bumped into a chair. When the cottage began to rise, Serafina grabbed hold of a chair leg.
Serafina’s stomach plummeted as the cottage rose, stopped with a lurch, and leveled off. She was struggling to her feet when the door slammed open. A mass of white objects flew into the cottage. The breeze created when they whipped past made the candle gutter and go out.
Serafina stepped into the middle of the cottage, hoping to get to the door. “Oof!” she cried when one last object flew through the opening and hit her in the stomach. Enough light was coming through the window now that she could make out the object’s shape. Round and white, it fell to the floor and began to roll away. Curious, Serafina bent down and picked it up. She couldn’t tell what it was until she brought it close to her face. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized that it was a skull.
“What are you looking at?” the skull asked her, its jaw moving in her hands.
For the first time in her life, Serafina fainted.