Page 86 of Souls We Rip

She would start her rituals by extinguishing a match in a glass of water, saying:

Run away, evil eye,

From the eyes,

Because it reaches you, it arrives,

And the heavenly sword of fire,

Divine Providence punishes you bitterly.

Go, disappear, as the mists disappear

When the winds blow,

As the dew disappears in the sun,

As the foam of the sea disappears.

And every time she left, she would turn three times on the thresholds, saying the same chant.

“I don’t believe in this,” Eugen told me one night while we ate eggplant salad with sour cream at the kitchen’s round table.

The scent of vinegar filled the unaired room, provoking sneezes from the child. In two large pots, water was mixed with vinegar and sugar, close to the boiling point. Large glass jars occupied half of the floor, and one large barrel the other half. In the latter, cabbage waited to be mixed with salt, sugar and water.

“Why?” I asked, wiping some crumbles from my mouth.

“Nothing ever happens after the old lady says her incantations,” he replied, grabbing a mug filled to the brim with milk.

“Did you believe in the existence of the Order until you met Andrei and me?” I tilted my head, my eyes on the face he was pulling. His lips pouted, and his nose scrunched.

Eugen frowned, looking like a cat. “I don’t know what to say...” He resigned, pressing his chin to his chest. With his hands, he smothered a doll Andrei made for him out of hay. He eyed the food left on the table.

“My dear boy, you can believe in many things or not. This defines you as a person. It is fine if you do not trust the old woman. But I want to.” My hands touched his smaller one, squeezing once.

“You better.”

My hand stilled on Eugen’s; my mind reeled.

As slowly as I could, holding my breath, I turned my head to him.

And there he was.

The man who instilled fear in others, and still could ignite my mind and body. The man who laid his soul at my feet, refusing himself to act on his feelings, afraid of tainting me.

His body looked better, no more bruises, cuts or broken bones. But his eyes were haunted, a mix between misery and violence.

I stood up, my feet running to him and my arms wrapping around his neck, inhaling his scent. Earth, old books and wax. His hands grabbed my waist tightly, the feelings overbearing.

“Are you husband and wife?” Eugen’s voice ripped the moment.

Oh, right, he didn’t know I took a child with me and kept him here for weeks.

Tiberius’s jaw clenched, and a guttural sound came from his neck. He became, once more, the feared Goat Man. With great effort, I pried my hands off his shoulders and placed myself between the two.

“And who is that mongrel?” Goat asked, one of his eyebrows lifting.

“I am Eugen, I am a boy, and I am six years old. Ana killed my mum, and out of pity, she took me in.”