by Lynn Rushlau
in Issue 91, August 2019
Groaning, I dropped the last of the boxes atop the stack in the alley and glanced at the sun. Winced and looked away, blinded. Nearly dusk. I needed to leave. The sun would drop under the horizon soon, and I knew better than to go out past dark.
This part got tricky. Mom and dad now had vapors at her name. They’d loved Ciela like a daughter. Not had a word to say against her or our friendship the whole of my life. But now that she was dead… Shaking my head, I gave the boxes a good kick. The top one tipped over.
We’d been best friends, not lovers. Half the village refused to understand that. Best friends. The kind of friends who do not abandon one another, no matter what.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled the wrinkled papers from my pocket. All contents of the order verified and put out on their respective shelves. My work done for the day, but for one charge. The door creaked when I pulled it open. I shut it softly in hopes no one noticed the cry of the hinges.
The signed-off papers needed to be left on my brother-in-law’s desk. Dad had been out front with a customer. Mom upstairs watching my motherless niece. Micklin might be a problem. Could be at his desk. Could run into him anywhere between here and there. He’d stick me with some pointless chore. Anything to keep me inside and steal my free time from me.
No choice though. I dared not run off with the receipt. I slipped through the silent stockroom, crossed in front of dad’s office–blessedly dark and empty–and stepped up to Micklin’s door, ready to knock. No need. The lights were off. The room empty.
I ducked inside, tossed the papers in the center of the desk, and stared back out into the well-lit store.
We’d been the kind of friends who were supposed to save each other from heartbreak and disaster. I’d failed her in that. The gods knew I tried, but I failed. I couldn’t fail in this.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I groaned. I should have done this in the other order. I no longer had any reason to go out the back. No trash in hand to excuse myself. I’d catch holy hell if anyone caught me sneaking out. Another lecture on how they couldn’t believe I refused to understand their concern.
I wished that they understood me. And friendship. And loyalty.
And that I was in no danger. Not from her. I snorted. I’d be fine. She was still Ciela. Still my friend. Even if everyone else had abandoned her.
I could and must do this. Hoping my heartbeat wasn’t loud enough to carry into the shop itself, I padded down the hall. Couldn’t breathe as I stood before the door, my hands trembling too much to work the latch. What if–closing my eyes, I pushed open the door. Cold air caught and pulled me outside.
The alley remained empty. Her house stood two doors down. The curtains drawn. No signs of light nor life. Her dad, the cobbler, would be closing his shop soon. He’d been open every day, but that of her funeral.
I hadn’t seen any of her family since. Gossips spotted her youngest sister running wild down by the river with drinks and smokes and dangerous boys. I’d not seen her myself.
Her house hurt to look at. I’m sorry, I whispered to her. To her family. Again.
Averting my eyes, I hurried on. I could tell her that in person soon. Likely would. Again. All I did was repeat myself these days. She wouldn’t care.
I passed not another soul as I threaded through the backways of my street and the next one. Heard a rustle of papers or fabric over by the bookstore. Picked up my pace and darted out of the alley onto Orlane Street.
Couldn’t help looking about for my dad or Micklin. Mom wouldn’t be out here watching for me, but one of them might. Accidently met Mr. Affre’s gaze over the remnants of today’s catch. I looked away before he could speak. He’d know where I headed. The entire village would.
Didn’t care what he thought. Didn’t want to be drawn into conversation. I’d punched the last person who insisted on discussing Ciela. Gods, the way they talked about her. As if she’d done something wrong.
Gave her heart to the wrong person. The most wrong person in the entire village. Could have told her that. Tried many a time. She didn’t want to listen. Guess that was two wrongs. But no one should be condemned for all time for a mistake. Especially when it came to love.
Who hadn’t had a foolish crush?
The Mistresses Eanna and Koemi stood outside Tailor Hanlo’s. Their eyes grew wide as we looked at each other. Heads quickly came together, lips racing in gossip. I forbore shooting them a dirty gesture. Didn’t have time for the trouble. Wished some ill on them though. Rotten old hags.
Neither Ciela nor I should be the source of their gossip. No. That should be tall, smoldering Jerem. So devoid of intelligence or compassion. Left a stream of broken girls in his wake.
The haberdashery door popped open. Kire dashed out, calling my name. The dozen or so people on the street all turned to look. I gritted my teeth. Fantastic.
“Not now, Kire.”
“But I wanted to–“
“Not now!”
I knew my parents had talked to him. They’d talked to all my so-called friends. Watch our son. Protect him from himself. As if I were suicidal. I wasn’t. Nor was I stupid. I was fine.
Okay, I was drowning in guilt. Hated myself half the time. But I wasn’t looking to die.
Running footsteps came up behind me. I jumped aside, spinning, before anyone could grab me. Kire looked spooked.
“What?”
“She’s not Ciela anymore.”
“Fat lot you know.” She needed me. Needed someone. Me, her best friend, I was the only one willing to be there for her. To try to help.
“Wait, a rusalka–“
“Leave me alone.” I shoved him away and dashed down the street. Asshole.
Why could no one understand? No, it was worse than that. No one cared that she was out there all alone in the cold.
Okay, so she probably couldn’t feel the cold, but no one knew that for sure. She was alone. She needed me. She’d never hurt me, not her best friend.
I stormed around the corner and froze. I hadn’t meant to come this way. Never meant to pass Jerem’s parents’ pub again, not for the rest of my life. A whirlwind of emotions halted me in my tracks.
If I really wanted to help Ciela, I’d go in there and kill him. Beat him to death in front of his family and half the town. Would anyone protest? I’d be protecting the rest of the town’s daughters. Hell, the district’s. Rumor held he’d gotten a girl in the next village with child. How many more of his bastards did the world need?
Killing him would kill her.
Set her free.
I was supposed to look at it that way. You’d think her father would help me out on that one. He’d nearly punched me when I broached the subject.
Jaw clenched, I pivoted and ran on. I was a coward. Through and through. Failing her yet again. Couldn’t do it. I was smaller than him. Couldn’t win using fists alone and wasn’t armed. The excuse made me feel no better, but I clung to them as I ran through the outskirts of town to the river.
Ciela had thrown herself in. She wouldn’t have come back otherwise. That’s what they all insisted. I had my doubts. There was only one way to free her, no matter how she’d gone into the water. What mattered was that she hadn’t come back out. Not as a living breathing person. She was something else now. Something immortal and doomed to spend eternity punishing the gender that had hurt her.
I’d set her free when she asked it of me. When she was ready to go, I swore I would see it through.
But she hadn’t asked. Not yet.
Not that she’d had a chance. The three times I’d made it down here, a misguided “hero” had pulled me away before I’d gotten much past hello.
Soft singing floated on the breeze. A shiver ran down my spine. Bolted me in place.
No, I told the trickles of panic working their way through my veins. Don’t be ridiculous. This was Ciela. I had nothing to fear from my best friend, no matter what.
Still the hair on the back of my neck and arms raised. I moved slowly through the trees.
She lounged in the water near the weeping willow. Combed her sodden hair while she sang. The melody hooked into my heart, my loins. She spotted me. Those brown eyes, Ciela’s eyes, lit up. They always had to see me, but this was different.
This time that light said predator recognizing prey.
A smile stretched her lips. Pulled me forward.
I was–I was so not okay.
©August 2019, Lynn Rushlau
Lynn Rushlau in the anthology Hidden Menagerie, Vol. 1, in Strange Constellations, and previously in Swords & Sorcery.