Page 57 of Foul Days

“The cabbage,” she said seriously.

It took Kosara a second to realise it had been a question. “It was wonderful, Aunty. Very sour.”

“I’ve been keeping it good for you all year. We had a warm summer, remember, it wasn’t easy. Some truly nasty bacteria from the canal were trying to contaminate the basement, I fought them day and night.”

Kosara imagined the kitchen spirit, a rolling pin in one hand and a chopping board in the other, bravely defending the basement against the hordes of bad bacteria and wild yeast. Her mouth twitched, but she didn’t dare smile. Spirits could be terribly touchy. If they thought she was making fun of them, they’d cause all sorts of inconveniences: her keys would start disappearing when she was running late, or her food would burn as soon as she stopped watching it, or one sock from every pair would vanish without a trace.

“Thank you,” Kosara said. “The cabbage was wonderful and so was the pickled green tomato. I’ve been telling all of Belograd about our pickled tomatoes.”

The spirit beamed, her cheeks gleaming red. “I’ve been told you have excellent taste.…” She produced two hats from behind her back. One wide-brimmed and elaborate, covered in wax grapes and cherries, and the other—a simple bonnet, with a single rose embroidered on the side.

So, they’d also raided her mum’s closet.

“Definitely the wide-brimmed one,” Kosara said. “The grapes bring out your eyes.”

The kitchen spirit nodded. “That’s what I thought, too.”

“Are you getting ready for the feast as well?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” And then she disappeared in a puff of smoke that smelled of freshly baked bread.

Kosara closed her eyes again. Splash splash, splashed the bathroom spirit, bang bang, banged the chestnut tree on the windows, thud thud thud, thudded Asen up and down the hallway.

Splash, splash. This time the sound was in her bedroom.

She opened her eyes and found the bathroom spirit standing above the bed. Curly white hairs coated his body, and his skin was wrinkled after hours in the moist bathroom. He had two of her father’s old swimming costumes in his hands: one was bright yellow, and the other had blue-and-white stripes.

“Let me guess,” Kosara said. “You’re here for fashion advice.”

“It’s for the feast.”

“I’m thinking stripes. They’ll make you look like a sailor.”

The spirit considered this. “I like sailors. Back in my day, we used to get them from all over the world. The parties were magnificent.” He sighed, his eyes growing unfocused. “Is your friend a sailor?”

“Asen? No, he’s a copper. And he’s not my friend.”

“I don’t mind coppers, either. I think it’s the uniform that does it for me. Are you two…” The spirit wiggled his bushy eyebrows and winked at her.

“Ew, no.” Honestly, they were just like embarrassing old relatives.

“Oh well, I’m glad you’re back, anyway. It’s nice to have people around. My pipes were starting to get rusty.” And then he disappeared in a puff that smelled like homemade soap.

Kosara pulled the blanket over her head. The spirits had to let her sleep now, after all of them had visited her.

Well, all except for one. But she couldn’t imagine Nevena coming to her for fashion advice. What would she ask, which blood-soaked gown to put on?

* * *

Kosara was just drifting off when she heard the screams.

She was out of bed and halfway down the hallway before she truly woke up. The skirt of her nightgown shushed against the floor. The tiles were freezing cold beneath her bare feet. The red door at the end of the hallway was ajar.

Asen sat on the bed, breathing hard. Drops of sweat glistened on his forehead. His undershirt was soaked, clinging to the muscles on his chest in a way that would have been distracting if Kosara wasn’t so angry with him.

“What the hell are you doing in Nevena’s room?” she shouted before she’d thought better of it. She forced herself to speak calmly. “I told you not to go into the bedroom with the red door.”

“You told me the ceiling was leaky. You said nothing about ghosts.”

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