Page 83 of Foul Days

“Don’t you sometimes have to dig up graves as the police?” she asked. “What if someone was murdered, but you didn’t know about it until after they’d been buried, and you need to get the body out to check for evidence?”

“We do exhume bodies occasionally,” Asen admitted. “Very occasionally. And only with a court order. We haven’t got one of those.”

“Just imagine we’ve got one.”

“I can’t just imagine court orders. That’s a slippery slope to becoming a—” he lowered his voice, “—crooked cop.”

“Says the man who’s breaking the law just being on this side of the Wall.”

“Nevertheless, digging a grave…”

“Listen, I’m sure Algara wouldn’t mind.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“She’s a witch. I’m a witch. I’d be glad if someone dug me up from time to time after I die. You know, she’d probably appreciate the fresh air, the change of view, our nice company…”

“She’s dead, Kosara.”

“Dead, alive, over here in Chernograd, they’re two sides of the same coin.”

“I don’t know about that.…”

“Just trust me on this one. We’ll dig her up, we’ll get the compass, and then we’ll put her right back where we found her. No one will even notice.”

Asen sighed again before nodding. Kosara gave him a bright smile. She’d never admit it out loud, but she was glad she wouldn’t have to go to the graveyard alone.

Finally, they reached Malamir’s house: a low, shabby building with tiles missing from the roof and paint missing from the walls. A few of the upper-floor windows were boarded up to keep the heat in.

Malamir’s mum opened the door. She wore a sunflower-patterned nightgown, its skirts flapping in the wind. The clay mask on her face cracked when she frowned. Her milky-white eyes looked straight through Kosara. Her walking cane tapped on the ground in front of Kosara’s feet.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“It’s Kosara, Mrs. Petrosyan,” Kosara said. “Is Malamir home?”

“Kosara, what time is it? Malamir’s still in bed.…”

“Could you wake him up? It’s urgent.”

Mrs. Petrosyan sighed deeply and disappeared back inside, muttering something about today’s youth, the rollers in her hair clanking. Kosara noticed she moved slower than usual and accompanied every step with a soft moan.

A few minutes later, Malamir came to the door, blinking against the pale sunlight. His eyes were still blue and swollen, and his body hung loosely between his crutches, but he seemed to be in good spirits.

“Kosara!” He gave her a wide smile. “How nice of you to visit.”

“Are you feeling better?”

“Much better, thanks. Doctor Krustev says I’m making amazing progress. I’ve even been going for short walks.”

“What about your mum? She seems a bit unwell.”

Malamir waved his hand. “She’s fine. She’s been up for hours scrubbing the house clean. You know what she’s like.”

“If she needs a potion…”

“I’ll let you know, doll.”

Kosara nodded, then stood there, unsure how to steer the conversation in the right direction.

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