Monday, August 24, 2020

Journal - The Mouse Trap

Oksana and I had taken the remainder of the afternoon gathering clothes and essentials from the shops in the area. Going through clothes was a tedious business. The wonder in her eyes was intense. There were many moments where she stood staring and trembling, her senses overwhelmed.

The first of those moments, the very worst of them, was when an airship moved from behind a building, blocking the sun and filling the sky. It was pointed in our direction, just leaving the dock. Her eyes grew wide, body shaking, gooseflesh covering her arms and up her neck. I acted quickly, pulling my leather jacket and tossing it over her shoulders as she started to writhe. I saw her fighting the change but fear driving her on. I pulled Oksana close and moved us from the street. I could hear what sounded like knuckles popping as her face began to elongate, her pupils dilating. I moved in close to her, coming within inches of her face.

“Just look at me. Look at me.” I whispered to her while pointing to my eyes.

She calmed by degrees, gaining control, her face and skin returning to normal. She took a deep breath and hugged me. I could still feel her body shuddering. She chanced a look at the dirigible as it ponderously moved overhead and then away from us. I took a deep breath and put my hand to her heart. Strangely, feeling it in my neck while it slowed to a calm rhythm.

It was then that I realized how important the Kalderari tradition was. This gift, or curse, is not something that one can simply contain alone.

Family is everything.

The other moments of trembling were simply indecision, but the signs were similar enough that I moved to support her while she came to grips with the unfamiliar and the chaotic.

Outside of clothes, there were all manners of other supplies I needed for the new apartment: towels, washcloths, rinses, sprays, alcohol, ammonia, brushes, razors, medical kit, and bobby pins, and toiletries.

I bought enough for simple meals. I intended to go dining on the town to find what she was most interested in, then I could attempt to prepare those things at home. At this point, the amount of bags we had gathered was dizzying. But there was still one more place to go.

The bookstore was quaint. The selection of Beryat material was thin. There were enough language guides and children’s books that crossed multiple languages that would possibly open up other options for her. I grabbed anything that might help and put the stack on the front counter. Oksana stood, arms out at wide angles, carrying the plethora of bags. She looked unperturbed, eyes sleepy, though she was grinning pleasantly.

We divided up the bags and walked the near two kilometers back to the apartment. I could see her test the air along the road and briefly at each alley. She would look to me every so often and smile warmly, blink slowly, then go back to her investigation. I could see the exhaustion coming through.

It was nearly sunset when we made our way into the apartment. I placed the bags down on the kitchen floor. Putting the food away, but letting the rest sit until tomorrow morning. Oksana had removed her shoes at the end of the bed and flopped backwards. She sluggishly tugged at the layers of the sun dress, but it meant she’d have to get up again. I put the books down on the side table and laid next to her, moving in close and putting my arm over her middle. I propped up on an elbow and played with her hair, her eyes closed at the touch. She turned toward me, inclining her chin toward me and pursing her lips, requesting a kiss. I obliged.

“Vremya spat'.”

She turned her head back to stare at the ceiling, then closed her eyes. I played with her dark hair for a moment longer then got up. She opened her eyes then glanced at me with a slightly perturbed look.

“You sleep.” I pointed to her and pantomimed sleep.

“Da, spat'.”

Ah, that’s what she’d said, “sleep”.

She said and nodded, then lifted a hand heavily and waved idly for me to continue.

“I am going to talk to Blanka.” I pantomimed, using my hands as talking puppets.

“Blanka?” She rolled her eyes then shrugged, “Udachi moya lyubov’.”

I bounded on the bed, then descended on her with one kiss, then another.

“Idi, idi!” She said and shooed me away.

I moved off of the bed and picked up one of the Beryat primers.

“We are going to learn to read Beryat together.” I said, showing her the book.

I thumbed through catching a few words. I struggled for a moment and put the words together.

“My uchimsya chitat'.”

“Da, da.” She said sleepily, her eyes still closed, “Idi seychas!”

She made a motion to shoo me out of the room with one lazy hand, it promptly flopped to the bed. I clicked off the light in the room and I could hear her breathing deeply almost instantly. I was trembling with fatigue myself, but I doubt the events of the last few days would let me rest.

I decided to get to Mausfal a touch early.

The meeting time came and went. I ordered another pint, prepared to drink alone. Blanka was really upset.

And you handled it brilliantly.

I shrugged and tipped into the remainder of the stout I’d been nursing. She’d come around, I’m sure. Probably. I couldn’t imagine never working an assignment with her again. I sighed. Regulars had been filtering in, I could tell because the barkeep knew every one of them and they all seemed to sit exactly where they’d sat for the many years they’ve come here.

A radio played a static-laden mix of strings, horns, and accordion in a jaunty polka. The electric lights were well covered exuding a warmly lit environment with the prevailing saturation of yellows and reds. The darkly stained and highly lacquered wooden tables and chairs, and the bar, itself, all looked much darker than they actually were.

I felt a point of heartsickness for the life I’d left behind. A life that changed completely within the last two days. But I also knew I was better for it. Oksana was a ray of sunshine to what could be an overwhelmingly dark world. One that was getting darker, still, with each new discovery.

I hope the others will see that.

A familiar male face walked into the bar. Short brimmed cap, Icenian style, and a polished outfit that was terribly out of place in this well-worn establishment.

“Cornel?” I said, incredulous.

“I see. You’ve already forgotten about me,” Blanka spoke up from his elbow.

“That man just really knows how to make an entrance.” I said with a shrug.

I hopped up, nearly sending my chair to the floor. I hugged Blanka, holding it for a moment longer than usual. Then beckoned Cornel close and hugged him, too.

Both seemed a little taken aback by the response, but only a little. I may have been feeling a little tipsy.

Cornel grabbed a chair and spun it around, putting his arms on the backrest. I pulled a chair for Blanka and she slipped into it. I sat back and pointed at the two of them simultaneously, then shrugged.

“I found him wandering about town.” Blanka said, a little exasperated, “Far too overdressed for a place like this. For the whole town of Oberisk.”

I nodded.

“I sure didn’t expect it. You look well, Cornel!”

He nodded, a content smile. He had a certain peace about him that hadn’t been there before.

“Bani. I heard stories,” he nodded toward Blanka, who turned toward me with fire in her eyes, “Tell me they aren’t true.”

“Oh, you get right into it, don’t you. Would you like a round of drinks first? I know I would.”

I lifted a hand and beckoned the female server that had been delivering my beer. I ordered food and drinks for the table.

“And, just bring the bottle, if you could. The 15-year.” I pointed at a whiskey on the shelf behind the barkeep.

I refused to talk until drinks were delivered. Both Blanka and Cornel tried to goad me into it, with no result. Blanka slid deep into her chair, giving me a smoldering look while folding her arms.

“While we wait, tell me where you’ve been, Cornel?”

He shrugged, looking down at his immaculate clothes. His shoes shone like Angelica’s Kompressor. Rings, a watch, and the customary cap which was a rich leather and wool ensemble. Every inch of him screamed money.

“A little soul searching.” He looked pensive and inclined his chin and continued, “You dress the part, you act the part, so they say. My life’s on the line every time we go out on these adventures. I would rather wear what I earn than never fully enjoy it.”

I nodded.

“Fatalistic, but realistic.” I said, I nodded toward Blanka, “You’re not the only one barely who has nearly seen the light on the other side. Or dark, depending on what you believe.”

Cornel glanced at Blanka. She didn’t meet his gaze.

“We’ve all seen it,” I continued, “Up close and personal. We make our peace however we can.”

The bottle arrived with glasses, I poured the drinks around.

“Now we celebrate. Because we enjoy the time we’re alive.”

I raised my glass, looking between Blanka and Cornel.

“So it is true. You’re in a rare state.” Cornel said, an eyebrow raised while joined the cheer.

Blanka took a little longer. She uncoiled an arm and snaked the drink from the table. She was really invested in this angry stare.

I clicked their glasses and sipped at the whiskey.

“Bracing.” I said, “Probably not the best note to start on this evening.”

I paused.

“Yes. I’m married.”

Cornel smirked, Blanka shook her head with an angry frown.

“The story is pretty fantastic. Or you could read the report.”

“Bani, I never read reports.” He held up a finger, “Correction, I never read your reports.”

“I’ll give you the short version, then.”

I launched into the story for the second time. I was a little more careful with nuance this time around, though. I couldn’t speak ill of the Kalderari like I had alluded to earlier with Angelica. Something did not feel right about it. I explained the moment with the soldier and the Kalderari, and how it led me to the Taxidermist’s house where I found the half-starved Oksana.

“You found this woman in the house and she was the... Wait,” Blanka’s eyes widened and she exclaimed loudly, “She’s the f…”

She stopped herself, then leaned into the table.

“She’s the werewolf?” Blanka whispered harshly, “The woman at Habsburg!?”

Cornel crunched his face awkwardly, speechless.

I gave a nod, sipping at the whiskey.

Blanka reeled, shaking her head, while Cornel’s vacuous look remained unchanged.

I explained the hit squad and the conflict at the camp. Both of them were enraptured as I laid out the scene. Both shaking their heads as I explained my walk through the camp surrounded by angry werewolves. I dropped into the conversation with Ursi.

“I explained that I would take Oksana to safety. That I would take responsibility for her. That we, at Nachtrichter, would be her family.”

Blanka was getting ahead of the story, pulling together the pieces faster than I could lay them down. Her eyes began to shimmer and she put her hand to her mouth. Cornel was my audience at this point. His anticipation was palpable.

“The camp elder came back with this book, probably the oldest thing in the camp. I got a look at it, completely beyond me that anyone could read what was written in there.” I leaned in, “He reads along for a bit, then looks up at me and asks, ‘You would take responsibility for her?’. I nodded and said I would. ‘Would you be her family?’ he asks and I nod again. ‘Prove it.’ he says. I never even saw it coming.”

A tear emerged from Blanka’s left eye and ran down the back of her hand. I kept my eyes on Cornel, not wanting to acknowledge it.

“He left it to me. To save Oksana’s life by marrying her.” I said with a shrug, “He put the responsibility squarely on me. So, I said yes. I committed to this bond in order to save her life. If I was willing to die for her by coming into a camp full of enemies, I should also be willing to live for her.”

I glanced between them. Cornel was agape and motionless, the glass in his hand hovered just above the table. Blanka had sat back a little in her chair, sitting out of the light coming from the candle in the center of the table.

“I would do anything for any of you, I hope you know that. But I would do the same for anyone who deserved to be saved. She deserved to be saved. Her life has been full of darkness. Someday she’ll tell you about it.” I said, shaking my head, “I know you all see me as this bleeding heart. It is borne of a sense of fairness, balance, and what is right. It’s why I joined Nachtrichter. I believe in the charter we uphold.”

I paused, pouring nearly three fingers into the glass and downing at least one of those fingers.

“Good god, I will not hear the end of this from Bjorn. I know it. But I did the right thing, I know I did.”

Cornel shook his head.

“Either you’re a brilliant liar or you truly are the Boy Scout they all say you are.” He said.

I furrowed my brow at his response. I glanced toward Blanka, she hadn’t moved, then returned my gaze to Cornel.

“Where did this come from? Who is ‘they all’? Wolfgang kept saying it, too. Even as we broke into Angelica’s quarters.”

This prompted a look of surprise from Blanka, but she didn't press.

Breads, sausage, nuts, and mustard had arrived in the midst of my story and sat untouched. I realized I was ravenously hungry. It was a good way to take a break and let the moment breathe.

“So, you’re an honorary Kalderari now?” Blanka said, leaning back into the light of the table.

“I am Kalderari, according to tradition.” I said, and tugged the braided necklace out from under my shirt, “I can walk into any camp and they will recognize me as one of theirs. Oksana, too.”

Both Blanka and Cornel had been there at Neuchatel, they’d seen the camps dangers and allures.

“Boy, they know how to throw a party. That was last night. I’m not sure how I’m still awake.”

I paused again to munch and a handful of nuts. A familiar song drifted from the radio. It was a portion of Rhapsody in Blue, the slow, sweeping sound mid-way through the song was cut short for radio. Blanka stirred and looked at me.

“Would a married man dance with an unmarried woman?” She said, then, without looking, stood and moved to the empty side of the bar where tables had been cleared.

I joined her and she looked up at me. I noticed her eyes were red, though she tried to hide it. I pulled her close and she looped her thin, pale arms around my neck.

“Bani. I’m sorry for earlier.” She looked at me, briefly, then leaned her cheek against my chest, rocking her head back and forth, “It’s just, a lot. It’s too much.”

I squeezed her close.

“I don’t want things to change. I’m not ready.” She paused, then added, “I need more time.”

We moved to the swell of the music, the piano tinny through the radio’s speaker. The song played loudly in my head, though. I had heard it many times before.

“Things will change, and you’ll change with them,” I spoke softly into her hair, putting my hand on her head and holding her close, “I meant it when I said I would do anything for you. I would be there for you in a heartbeat.”

I felt her tears soaking through my shirt.

“We are family. We have been since we first started down this road with Nachtrichter. Bjorn, too. We’re bound by blood and duty. You’ve dragged me to safety. I’ve carried you safety.”

I took a deep breath, dragging up the painful memories.

“We’ve even killed to protect each other. We are forever bonded. I will be there for you.” I said.

The song began to change.

“I will, too.” Blanka said, her voice catching and her face hidden.

She stepped away without looking back, disappearing into the women’s bathroom.

I put my hands to my chest and felt her tears.

It’ll get easier. You’ll see.

I moved back to the table. Almost expecting to see Cornel still stuck in place. He glanced at me and then back to Blanka’s exit.

“She was so angry.”

I nodded.

“I’d say she had a right to be, but she didn’t know the situation. This was a hard decision for me, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” I picked up the drink and pulled another finger’s worth of whiskey, then said, “What about you? Are you ready to join in again?”

Cornel nodded.

“I’ve made my peace. I am still not sure I’m cut out for this, but I’ll die trying.”

“Later rather than sooner, my friend.” I said, lifting my drink.

He echoed the gesture and we both sipped.

“I have something you might find interesting.”

He looked at me with a raised eyebrow and pursed lips.

“I think you’ll be impressed.”

I slid the plain wooden box from my jacket.

“The man I bought it from called it an ‘anytool’.”

I grinned in anticipation of his reaction. I pulled the lump of clay from the box and molded it briefly then held it in my hand and said a word. A hammer formed. Cornel gasped, dumbfounded. I rapped the table top, hard. I held it up again and said another word and it shifted to a long knife. I cut one of the sausage slices in half, stabbed it, and ate it. The blade was exceptionally sharp.

“How?” He could barely close his jaw.

“Honestly, I don’t know. But I got a wicked discount on it.” I shrugged, “Something about getting married, after all. Maybe this is more your speed.”

Another word and a crowbar appeared.

“It’s light, but you feel the weight of it when it changes. It’s otherworldly.” I said, “or maybe this?”

Another word and a set of lockpicking tools appeared. Cornel covered his mouth in shock. I smiled widely then dropped the clay into the box and put the slip of paper on top of it and scooted it over to him. He looked up at me in shock.

“It’s yours. I, literally, have no use for it.” I pointed at it again, “No one is going to catch you. There’s nothing to pat down.”

He sharply inhaled and his eyes began to brim.

“I… this… why?” He stammered.

“Welcome back, Cornel. I’m glad you’ll be working with us again.” 

He wiped absently at his face.

“This is…” he was having difficulty speaking, he blinked rapidly, “This is the best gift I have ever received.”

I smiled and reached over the table to clap him on the shoulder. Blanka arrived and took a seat, suddenly aware of the strange exchange. She looked between us and the box on the table, then back to the nearly weeping Cornel.

“What did you do?” Blanka asked me with a little heat.

“Look! Look at this!” Cornel took the lump of clay and started demonstrating it.

It immediately reminded me of Oksana, smiling with pride as she rapidly shifted it through its various forms.

Blanka’s reaction was also priceless. She looked to me and shook her head in disbelief.

“Thank you, Bani!” Cornel said standing, then he came around the table and gave me a big hug.

Blanka was showing the beginnings of a smile, too.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

We’ll make it. Everything will work out just fine.

I slipped below the warmth of alcohol, blissfully listening to the radio and the light chit chat of Blanka and Cornel as they handed the “anytool” back and forth. I felt fortunate to have landed with such great friends. It had been a strange path to this point. I sipped at my drink watching Cornel finally taking the lump of clay from Blanka who scowled at him playfully. He dropped it into the wood box and slipped it into his suitcoat’s inner pocket.

Heavy footsteps came down the entrance from the street and Bjorn filled the doorway. I brightened with a wave then immediately withdrew. I felt a little ill as the rush of memory filled in the gaps between then and now.

I am going to catch so much hell from him.

He’d seen my wave, inclined his head in our direction, and approached. Blanka bounded up and gave the big man a hug. Cornel stood, too, and they shook hands.

I sighed, resigned, and waited for the inevitable.

It started with a waterfall of explanation from Blanka. Quickly recounting a smattering of what had gone on, thoroughly confusing Bjorn in the process with the barrage of words.

She stopped, blinked twice and said.

“You should ask Bani. Ask him about his mission.”

I gave her a smoldering look for the fire that she was joyfully stoking. My look prompted a cutesy little half-grin and then she stuck out her tongue.

Bjorn sat heavily and looked at me, shaking his head.

“Not sure what dat’s about. Sounds like I won’t like it.”

I shrugged.

Blanka huffed, raising her emphatically.

“If you don’t tell him, I will.” She said.

“Didn’t you just try?”

“I just have to say just a few words. Bjorn, Bani got ma…” She started, drawing it out.

“Fine! Blanka. Dammit girl.”

She made a kissy face and leaned in with an elbow on the table.

Bjorn was shaking his head.

“No, don’t say it. Let me get some clear liquids in me first. If you’re going ta waste my time, let me drink while ya do it.”

Multiple shots graced the table. I had the remainder of the bottle in front of me, but I pushed it away in lieu of the generous amount of Norman vodka that had just appeared in front of me. The server looked concerned.

“Are you going to take care of him?” She said.

“The real questions, am I going to take care of you, darlin’?”

Her eyes widened at Bjorn’s response, she looked exasperated and promptly walked away.

“So, what’d you do, Bani? Rescue any strays? Make friends with another Wampyr?”

“Well, one of those.”

I moved into the story, keeping it simple and direct. I could read his expression as the story went on. He was drawing the same conclusions that Blanka did, and just as quickly. His face was unperturbed, but his alcohol consumption ramped quickly. The headshaking started when I spoke of walking into the heart of the camp and that the only way to save her was to wed her.

A rolling belly laugh came out of the large man.

“Bani, Bani, Bani. A shotgun wedding to a Varulv. I leave you alone for a week,” he said, letting it trail off and moved to take another drink.

“Bani, tell him about the dress!” Blanka said, excitedly and a little starry-eyed.

“Ah, the wedding dress. Traditional, apparently. Like a puzzle box.” I weaved while demonstrating with my hands, “You have to work together to get her out of it. Or, ya know, the wedding isn’t official.”

Bjorn sputtered a little and shook his head again.

“And ya consummated,” he exhaled loudly, “Dat brings so many questions ta mind. We’ll save them for another time. What did ya tell Angelica?”

He tipped back heavily as I answered.

“Everything, really. She drank a bit like you.” I waved a hand at him, “I brought Oksana into the castle so they could talk.”

His eyes widened.

“Breaking how many security protocols. And she didn’t fire ya?”

“Nope. She did ask if I was going to quit. She seemed relieved when I said ‘Hell no’.”

I looked at the glass in front of me. I was thirsty. This wasn’t water, but I drank anyway.

“Well, I woulda fired your ass. On the spot,” he said, shaking his head, “A Varulv in Habsburg.”

“You know I wouldn’t put anyone in danger, Bjorn.” I mulled the vodka around in the glass, “She’s safe, believe me. She just needs guidance. I really needed Angelica to talk to her; she’s the only one who speaks Beryat.”

Another rolling laugh from Bjorn.

“This just keeps getting better and better. You two can’t even talk?”

I flopped the recently abused Beryat phrasebook on the table.

“It takes a while. She can’t read, either.” I sighed, my eyes wandered the tilting room, “Lillery-. Lilter-. Literally, a blank slate. I know she’s smart, speaks the language, but no education.”

“Can she do anything? Any other skills? Besides da ones I won’t mention in polite company.”

I shrugged.

“We just gotta be able to talk. A tutor, maybe? I asked Angelica about that. I’d pay for it.” I said, nodding, “I’ll learn Beryat, too. It’ll be fun.”

“Noble. It’ll end in disaster, but noble.”

“After that? I dunno. She can’t have a normal job, but, here? She could!”

Bjorn squinted at me.

“Bani,” he said firmly, “Please tell me ya didn’t bring this up with the SAC?”

I gave him a bemused look with a slight shrug. He began to chuckle again.

“Bani and da Varulv, going on missions together.” Bjorn said, shaking his head again.

I looked at the two of him and swam a little, I was on the edge of consciousness. I finished off the glass.

“That’s not water. Again.” I said, sitting back back and pointing at the empty glass.

Cornel stood, somehow sideways, and came back with some glasses and a sweating pitcher. I traced lines through the lines running down the pitcher. It was very cool to the touch. I was burning up and parched, but it was a mystery to how I’d get that coolness inside of me.

“Cornel? Blanka? I think our mission leader needs a walk home.” He grunted, lifting himself from the chair, “Shall we?”

No comments:

Post a Comment