Page 47 of Guarded By the Vodnik

It was so telling that he put so much emphasis on this. I imagined he blamed himself very much.

“Good,” he said, pressing my face back into the crook of his neck as we moved again. “My grandfather believed I should have stayed and fought. I should have died in her place.”

“What?” I blurted out, shocked by the cruelty. “But you… You were a tiny child! You didn’t… It wasn’t your fault! How could he say that? Oh, baby.”

He shuddered and pressed down on my nape in an almost animalistic way, as if reminding me to be still.

“Don’t. I’ve never told anyone. I have to get it all out now that I started. If you say things like… Just don’t. Be quiet.”

“I will,” I whispered.

He took a moment to compose himself, his fingers tight on my nape as if he was afraid I’d move my head or speak again. But I was perfectly still, finally understanding why he needed that.

He must have felt so wildly out of control, reliving that horrible, cruel experience. I couldn’t even imagine how it felt, but I got that by moving and speaking, I only added to that chaos. He needed me still and quiet, so my presence would soothe instead of feeding the pain.

“I heard her screams as I swam away. She fought them, that much I know, but then… The sounds changed. She was in pain, so much that she roared with it. And I swam faster. Because I didn’t want to hear that.”

I swallowed, my throat bobbing, and he growled, pressing me closer.

“And then it stopped. She was quiet, and they laughed and shouted. They were so fast. Right behind me. So I did the only thing I could think about, and I was lucky, Zoe. I was so incredibly lucky. So much luckier than I deserved.”

He snorted suddenly, derisive and cold.

“Or maybe not. Maybe death would have been kinder.”

I breathed shallowly until he slowly relaxed enough to speak again.

“The shipwreck graveyard, the one we passed, was the closest to where we lived. I reached it before they caught me, saw a hole in the cage that seemed big enough, and squeezed through. They were furious. Spent hours circling the cage and trying to get in, and when they realized they couldn’t, they tried to scare me into coming out. Told me about the ghosts haunting the shipwreck. The monsters that would grab and eat me. They said my mother’s ghost would come to haunt me, because she was dead, her stomach ripped out.”

I bit my tongue until the pain was unbearable, and then I bit in harder until the urge to cry was gone. Vodyan shook, and we moved fast now. His body vibrated with coiled energy.

“When they left me alone, I tried to come out. But I couldn’t. All the holes were too small for me. And I couldn’t even remember which direction I’d come from.”

My body ached from being so unnaturally still, my muscles screaming from the effort. My eyes and throat burned with unshed tears.

“My grandfather arrived later that night. He found me pressed to the cage from the inside, shaking and mumbling about ghosts. I know, because he reminded me often how weak I was at that moment. I don’t remember it myself.”

I ruthlessly swallowed the shocked gasp that wanted to come out.

“He said since I got in, I had to get out myself. And if I didn’t, no loss. Because I got my mother killed, so in his eyes, I was already dead.”

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

“So I rose and kept trying, until I found that one single, bigger hole through which I finally squeezed out. I swam home. He didn’t let me eat for two days as punishment for… I forget what it was. Not killing my mother, not that. It was something else. One of his stupid things, like taking too long at a task or missing a target too many times.”

I cried silently without sobbing, without shaking. Tears squeezed out of my eyes, and I barely felt their warmth under my eyelids before cold water washed them away.

Vodyan took a deep breath and finally, his body and hold relaxed a fraction. He stroked the back of my head once, hesitantly.

“Don’t hate me, Zoe,” he said in a soft, low voice that sent another wave of silent tears into my eyes. “I’m sorry. I was bad to you.”

“C-Can I speak?” I asked, loathing myself for that stutter.

He stroked my head and back frantically. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s okay,” I broke in, my voice so tight with tears, I barely recognized it as my own. “You needed that and it’s okay. I don’t mind at all. What… What do you need now?”

He laughed sharply, so gritty and vicious, I flinched and held on more tightly, my fingers digging into the scales on his shoulders.

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