Page 141 of Foul Days

“I know what you’re going to say. I shouldn’t have come here. It’s too dangerous.”

Kosara stayed silent. That was exactly what she was going to say.

“I just wanted to see her.” Asen ran his fingers through his hair. Kosara noticed with some degree of envy that he’d kept all of it after the fire. “So I could try to explain to her. So I can apologise. You were right, I was an absolute idiot to do what I did.”

“Well, now that you’ve apologised to her…”

“No, you don’t understand. I want to see her.”

Kosara blinked, the meaning of his words slowly seeping in. “You hope she’ll turn into an upir?”

“Not an upir. A kikimora. I checked one of your old books. It said kikimoras haunt either the place where they were killed, or where they were buried. I never saw her in our old house. It also said kikimoras tend to awaken if someone who’s caused them great harm in life comes near. I caused Boryana great harm. I want to ask her to forgive me.”

Kosara suppressed a juicy swear. That was such a fundamentally stupid idea, she didn’t even know where to begin. “Didn’t you read the part in my book which describes what kikimoras are?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Because you can’t apologise to a kikimora.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re not people, Bakharov! They’re not like the spirits. They’re…” She grasped for words. “They’re nothing but human-shaped, angry, sizzling bubbles of negative emotion. They can’t be reasoned with.”

“I met Nevena. She seemed reasonable.”

Kosara let out a throaty laugh, completely devoid of humour. “Nevena was one of the calmest, most level-headed people I’ve ever known. Her kikimora does nothing but scream and bleed on people.”

“I don’t think I’d ever use the word ‘calm’ to describe Boryana.” Asen must have realised how much trouble that put them in, but he still smiled. “She was completely, infuriatingly, wonderfully hotheaded. If she’d seen me sitting here, she’d have screamed my head off.”

Kosara shivered. Did she imagine it, or did the ground tremble? “Well, what are you still doing here, then?”

Asen ran a hand down the carved letters of Boryana’s name. “You’re right,” he said. “We should go.” But he still didn’t make to get up.

The ground was definitely shaking now, the snow falling off the gravestones in chunks. The wind howled, growing stronger, making the branches of the scraggly trees scratch at the marble monument.

Kosara blinked, and she thought she spotted the angels move. She could swear she heard their cries.

It’s just the wind, she reminded herself. They’re not really crying. It’s just melting snow.

She barely suppressed her urge to yank Asen back to his feet and drag him out of the graveyard. When was she going to learn her lesson? Never, under any circumstances, no matter what, go into the graveyard during the Foul Days.

“We really need to get out of here,” she said.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. Then, finally, he got up and patted the snow off his knees. “Let’s go.”

Kosara quickly turned on her heel, eager to leave. She had to stop so suddenly, she almost fell backwards. A figure stood in her path.

Kosara gulped down her scream. She stumbled backwards until her back hit the marble gravestone.

The kikimora hovered in the air, her black dress billowing in the wind, her bare feet dangling a step above the ground. Her hair was bright red, floating around her face like a puddle of freshly spilled blood.

“Boryana,” Asen breathed, and Kosara saw how much effort it cost him not to step towards the wraith. His fingers twitched to grab hers.

“This is not Boryana,” Kosara said. “This is Boryana’s anger personified.”

And, dear God, she was furious. She opened her mouth and the resulting scream rang between the tombstones. Her feet slammed against the ground. She ran towards Asen, pushing him against the marble, her hands clawing at his face.

And he let her. Blood trickled down his cheeks and collected under her long fingernails. They were painted red, like her hair. Like his coat.

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