Page 33 of To Clutch a Razor
And on his knees, picking up the biggest pieces of glass one by one… is Dymitr.
Elza looks over her shoulder, but she doesn’t see the Dymitr she was just speaking to behind her. She thinksof the strzyga mirroring herself with magic. Her breaths come faster and shallower, but her mind is quiet. She walks across the kitchen, sidestepping the young cousins and walking into the room where Filip’s body waits with a feather and a rosary tucked into his palms.
She touches her grandmother’s elbow to get her attention.
And at that moment, the front door opens for a second time that evening. The singers, Krystyna included, falter in their hymn for just a moment, and her grandmother gestures for them to continue. Kazik steps into the house, breathless, and says:
“A wieszczy! A wieszczy at the burial plot.”
Elza’s grandmother straightens, becoming Joanna Mysliwiec all at once.
“All the Knights except Marzena and I will search,” she says to him. “All the rest will stay and sing.”
“You don’t think I’ll be an asset to the search party?” Marzena demands hotly.
“I think you’ll be an asset in protecting Filip’s body and the vulnerable people who remain behind,” Joanna replies.
“Babcia,” Elza says.
“We can’t allow thatthingto pollute Filip’s grave.”
“Babcia!” Elza is surprised by the force of her own voice. Joanna turns toward her, her mouth in a thin line, the way she looks when she’s about to scold someone. Butshe must see the urgency in Elza’s eyes, because she doesn’t scold, she only waits.
“I have to tell you something, too,” Elza says. “Right now.”
She thinks of the old hymn.
The clock is ticking.
Hell is opening.
14A TENSE CONVERSATION
The house is in chaos, and Dymitr feels sick to his stomach. Marzena’s words are pounding like a headache.It,she called the strzyga.It didn’t even warrant the drawing of my sword.
He tries to go through the motions of cleaning the kitchen with the others, but the words chase him.I sent the wolves ahead of me, and watched them overtake it.He doesn’t flinch when the vase breaks, just kneels to pick up the pieces.
André is sitting on a stool in the corner, a wet rag on his head. He got faint during dinner, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to pass out now—if anything, he looks more focused than usual, staring at Dymitr as he puts the shards of the vase into a dish towel.
“Feeling okay?” he asks his young cousin.
“Never better,” the boy replies, in a deep voice that doesn’t quite belong to him.
Before he can puzzle over this, though, Kazik comes back to warn them of the wieszczy, and Dymitr’s stomach lurches. It can’t be a coincidence. This must be Niko’sdoing. A well-timed distraction designed to sow chaos among the Knights.
Whatever Niko is planning, it’s happeningnow.
When they were finished with it, there wasn’t much left.
Some entrails and some feathers.
All he wants is to stay behind while the search party looks for the wieszczy that may or may not be Niko’s accomplice; all he wants is to stay here and clean the kitchen and pretend that he doesn’t come from a family full of gleeful, righteous murderers. But he knows what he has to do: he has to go out there with the others and try to find the wieszczy before any of them do, to warn it away. No small feat, since he’s far from the best tracker among them.
He puts on his boots. The front door is open, letting in the night air. Two reedy voices sing in the living room, keeping up their determined vigil even while the rest of the house prepares for battle. When he straightens, his grandmother is standing in front of him, Marzena lingering behind her.
“Go to the weapons room with Marzena,” she says. “She and I need to tell you something before you go out with the rest.”
There’s only one possible response to an order like that, especially with his mother watching: “Yes, Babcia.”
