Page 74 of Souls We Rip

They were circling the women, also dancing hora, but in a smaller circle. Their garments were simple, but clean. The younger women wore white, the married ones wore cream, and the older ones wore black shirts. Aprons in different colours brightened the women, their batiks ruffled by the breeze.

I wanted to be in their sentiment; therefore, my attire from that day resembled the joyful atmosphere. My skirt and ie were simple, but my vest and apron had poppies sewn by hand, the red thread filling the larger part of the garments.

Near the cauldron, a young boy was mixing the food with a large wooden spoon. Two women were lurking behind him. On that table was a large wooden box, beautifully carved, with money inside.

I fixed my eyes on the women; their dirty hands pushed the lid of the box and grabbed the money.

After seeing them the first time on the Mirror’s shining glass, I dug into their history to see that they were not poor girls stealing for their families. No, they were robbing, then murdering the house owners, just for amusement. It didn’t matter to them if their victims were poor or rich.

Their laughter, after smearing their faces with the blood of their casualties, still rang in my ears.

I squeezed the scythe and travelled to the cauldron.

My steps were silent on the grass, the first gush of cold wind circling my ankles.

Without even thinking, I slashed my scythe into one of the women. Her head rolled over, gold falling from her hand. The other woman screamed at the top of her lungs, making me cover my ears.

A blade that wasn’t mine descended on her.

Opening my eyes, I saw terrified faces looking my way. Screams passed the barrier of my ears, grating on my brain.

“Last time you stopped yourself from taking that soul because there were children there,” the Goat Man’s voice made me breathe again. Even though his tone was harsh. “This time, you lost one.”

“I had her,” I argued.

He only stood still, watching, battling with himself. To chastise me or not.

I sent the scythe away and covered my face with my palms. Instead of five souls left, I had six. Because I was reckless in getting out of the contract and to serve justice. Despite all that, I felt another swirl in, making its way into my eyes.

But it was too late, as the tears swelled in my eyes. Soon, they fell on my cheek, and I felt as if the world stopped again.

There was no music coming from the orchestra, no smell of food. Only the scent of old books. I felt his arms wrapping around me. The touch made my pulse decline from its rampage.

“There will be another soul to take, Ana.”

Grabbing my stomach, bile filled my mouth. Each time I took a soul, my body rejected the notion of me killing, as if it were against my nature.

“I wanted to finish with them sooner.” I winced at the tone of my voice. Sniffing, I released myself from his embrace, my pulse fluttering at the sight of the man whose touch lingered on my skin. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I am the one who put you into this situation.” He took my hand in his and squeezed it lightly. “You did a wonderful job so far. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

I nodded. “Yes, despite everything, I did a good job,” I snorted.

Hearing the sound that came from my mouth, he laughed. Dragging me with him in his frenzy.

Laughter. Joy.

It was an odd thing.

My eyes roamed over him once. It was the first time the Goat Man had ever worn a belt or a vest under his cloak. Usually, he would wear a linen shirt and trousers. But then, he added a large belt of leather with floral motifs, and his vest had the same design.

“Is there something the matter? Am I stained?” he asked and looked over himself, disregarding everyone around us.

“No. You look more alive.”

Trying to run away from my feelings again, I passed by him. His hand touched my waist lightly, his odd eyes watching me.

“I have to show you something,” he rasped, his eyes on my lips.