Page 96 of Foul Days

What secrets? Kosara snapped.

The voice grew even smaller. Well, you know, Nevena …

That was completely different. Asen couldn’t find out what had happened to Nevena and keep seeing Kosara the same way. He already thought of witches as criminals.

What would he think if he discovered he’d been helping a murderer?

17

Day Eight

Kosara had seen the sea in Belograd: blue, flat as a mirror, with white sailboats bobbing lazily across the surface, and scantily clad women sunbathing on the beach.

The Zmey’s Sea was different. Its waves rose high, edged with snow-white froth, slamming against the rocks with a deafening crash. Its wind brought the smell of brine and rotting seaweed, but also of something otherworldly. Something that made Kosara’s hair stand on end.

The pale bodies of rusalkas drifted in the dark waters. Their hair floated behind them, green like moss, brown like kelp, black like sea urchins. Their scaly tails glistened in the pale sun. Occasionally, they reached a bony hand out towards a low-flying seagull, grabbing it and dragging it under.

Some had lights hanging from their foreheads like lantern fish, flickering far in the distance. Kosara would have thought them lost fishing boats if she didn’t know better.

“Help!” The crashing of the waves couldn’t drown their screams. “Help me!”

She walked down the beach, holding onto her coat with both hands to prevent the wind from snatching it. Asen followed carefully, his soles sliding over the smooth rocks. The moon yarn unravelled behind them, barely visible in the fog. Blackbeard’s lighthouse shone up ahead.

“Please help me!” A shout sounded, loud and throaty. “They’ve got me! Oh my God, they’ve got me!”

“Is that a child?” Asen stopped in his tracks. His panicked eyes searched the waves.

“It’s not a child,” Kosara said. “It’s a rusalka. They’ll do anything to lure you into the water. And please try to speak quietly if you’re within arm’s reach of the sea. They can steal your voice.”

“My voice?”

“Hush! Yes, your voice. That’s what you’re hearing. Stolen voices.”

“Please help me!” It sounded like a young girl, terrified, barely managing to keep her head above the water. It would have been convincing, if it weren’t for the dozen other voices, just as realistic as hers.

“But what if it’s really a child?” Asen asked.

“It isn’t.”

“Do the rusalkas ever manage to catch children?”

“They do sometimes.” Kosara tried hard not to think of the many worried parents she’d had to console back in the day. They’d come to her workshop, their faces wet with tears, begging her to help them look for their children. The dads usually shouted and waved their fists about, while the mums tried to explain, as if Kosara was blaming them: I only let little Nadya out of my sight for a second, I swear. She must have wandered off. She loves collecting shells on the beach—

“So, how would we know if they’ve got a real child?” Asen asked.

“We wouldn’t. That’s why it’s important to never go anywhere near the water—if the rusalkas catch you, no one would answer your cries for help. Don’t fall for their tricks, no matter how much they beg and plead, no matter their heart-rending words—”

“You daft bastards!” came a voice. “Fucking hell!”

Kosara and Asen shared a look.

“That didn’t sound much like heart-rending words,” Asen said.

“What the actual fuck! Do you have a death wish?”

Kosara looked around. The shore was empty.

“Step away from the water, you idiots! Step! Away!”

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