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 Posted: Thu Nov 19, 2015 10:17 am
Greetings, Lorenzo!
Let me be the first to congratulate you on becoming a Guardian! My name is Zeke, and I am one of the staff members here at Lab 305. Out of numerous applications to our program, we felt that you were best fitted to become the newest addition to our family! So welcome and congratulations!
In this briefcase you will find your Soul Glass, Fel Essence, and a couple of documents - one of which needs your signature and must be returned to the Lab with your Glass and Essence upon your capture of a soul. The other is a list of contact information of every Guardian and Raevan pairing in the Lab. I've taken the liberty of highlighting the names of staff for you, but you will find us at the top of the first sheet!
I know this must be rather surprising for you, so before I go any further let me just state that if you have any questions at any time, please feel free to call, text, or email me and I will be more than happy to provide answers or guidance in general. That being said, let's get on with the show!
As I wrote above, you will find your Soul Glass and Fel Essence inside the briefcase. You are the Guardian to the False Reflection Essence, which has already been written down on the legal documents you will have to date and sign. Your Soul Glass is that big glass and metal contraption to the left of your Essence Jar, and will be the thing you need to use in order to help us make your future Raevan. Please take note of the cloth between the metal and glass parts as it is important. Souls have colors and the cloth acts as a limiter and something of a fail-safe so that the bottle will not suck up just anything around it. As yours is blue-green, it will only activate around things (be they animal, plant, mineral, metal, etc) that fit one or both of those colors.
When you capture a soul, the glass bulb will appear to have a smoke-like gas inside of it. When this happens simply return the filled Glass, the Essence, your signed documents, and the case to the Lab. There is a business card tucked in alongside this note for our carrier service. Contact them when you are ready to return your items and they will pick them up from your home. As soon as we get them back we will begin the process of making them into your Raevan!
Whew! I hope I covered everything well enough in this note as far as what you need to do now that you are a Guardian! If not, and as before, please do not hesitate to get in contact with me. My phone is always on and I'm always happy to talk with members of the Lab family!
Hope to hear from you soon and congratulations again!
Sincerely,
Zeke Farris
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Dear Mister Farris,
Thank you for your prompt response to my application for your program. As you may know, I am acting on behalf of a specific client who I wish to use as a soul in the Lab 305 program. Due to various factors surrounding her case, the delivery of the items enclosed to Lab 305 may be delayed on my part. I will do my utmost to keep you updated, but the client in particular has been difficult both for Fisch and Co. Legal Offices to get in touch with and to negotiate with in general.
According to my research, however, the false reflection essence is most likely to be compatible with her nature, and I am optimistic that she will find your program suitable, having taken the time to meet with several guardians already and ask about their satisfaction with the Lab. I thank you for the kind assistance that the staff of Lab 305 has given me during this process, and I hope to meet with you soon once I can resolve matters with my client in Russia.
There is a small possibility that during the events of these negotiations I will die, if so I will attempt to have a representative contact you and return these materials to you unmolested so that another guardian may make use of them, unless there is another necromancer in the vicinity to restore me, in which case I will contact you to discuss my suitability as a guardian who is undead. If you have any concerns or advice in regards to this situation, feel free to contact me with the information I provided to you in my application form.
Yours truly,
Lorenzo Fisch
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Posted: Sun Dec 13, 2015 8:55 pm
"You've come at a wonderful time," gushed Lorenzo's translator, a cheerful Russian girl who had introduced herself as 'Dina'. "It's almost New Year-- everybody celebrates."
Lorenzo shrugged uncomfortably. Dina's outgoing demeanor and relative lack of animosity towards him filled him with a nervous sense of foreboding. "I don't think I'll be staying for more than a few days. The agency gave you the briefing, right?" he asked, huddling in the back seat of the car for warmth.
"Yes, yes. I drive you to the village, you pick up a girl, and you go home, right?"
Oh boy.
"Yes, sort of like that, but I think a few details may have been, ah, lost in translation, as they say..."
"Complicated situation?" Dina asked sympathetically. "No worries, Mister Fisch. I have been asked to translate many strange and personal conversations in my time. It would take a very unusual customer to surprise me now!"
"I shoot for excellence," muttered Lorenzo from the back seat.
"Anyway, the travel agency has booked us each a room at the inn in town. It's a shame that you come now, I hear that next year will be devoted to building many new attractions and a much nicer hotel."
"Yes, well, that's why I'm here," Lorenzo interjected.
"Ah, a developer?"
"More of a negotiator, actually. Look, here, before we go out and get this girl, I have some pamphlets you should really read-- AUGH!" The car hit a pothole as he spoke, and he collapsed back into the seat, the pamphlets scattering on the floor.
"I will pick them up later, Mister Fisch. Right now, I must focus on the road." Dina glanced down at him sympathetically, and as she did, she noticed, "Ah, a photograph! Your friends?"
"R-recent acquaintances," Lorenzo corrected, reaching for the picture. "...Hopefully friends."
"I am sure that they will love you and your interesting clothing choices, Mister Fisch. Maybe next year you can celebrate New Year with this girl and them."
"Well," said Lorenzo, shuffling the picture back into the folds of his warmest cape, "I'm certainly shooting for something like that."
Dina smiled warmly. "New Year's is such an excellent time for love, Mister Fisch. This girl, what is her name?"
"I-I-" Lorenzo looked through his files frantically, then looked up. "I don't know. M-maybe she doesn't know. I guess the proper name is Rusalka...?"
Ten miles outside the village, the car screeched to a sudden halt.
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Posted: Mon Dec 14, 2015 10:11 pm
Sitting in his room in the inn, Lorenzo reflected on the events of the day.
He felt that he could have done better. He had let the traveling and the confusion and the culture barrier completely overwhelm him, and thus had failed to treat Dina with the cheerful professional disposition that the Licensed Necromancer's Committee recommended for the modern young necromancer. Lorenzo was a man who strongly believed in doing things briskly and professionally, mostly to uphold a Reputation, but also to circumvent any situations which involved running from pitchforks and torches. It was lucky for him that Dina was also possessed of a cheerful professional disposition, because her shock when he apprised her of the situation was certainly of the sort that might inspire a pitchforks and torches sort of attitude in a less businesslike individual.
She made him nervous, but he liked Dina. It was important, if he was to communicate with the Rusalka with any degree of clarity, that she also like him.
Or at least, that she understood.
With this in mind, he put on his most mild outfit, left the cape in his room, and went downstairs to the lounge, where he found his translator frustratedly jabbing at her phone. Sitting across from her cautiously, he cleared his throat. She jerked her head up, saw Lorenzo, and put on her glassiest Professional Smile.
"I cannot contact my employer," she explained. "The service here is very poor."
"I got us some cocoa," Lorenzo offered, handing her a mug and taking a sip of his own. He winced with surprise as he did so.
Dina corrected, "Not cocoa. This is сбитень. A traditional drink."
"сбитень." Lorenzo repeatedly obediently, taking another sip. "It's quite good if you're expecting it."
"Today is full of surprises," Dina remarked pointedly, checking her phone again and cursing under her breath.
"Yes," Lorenzo agreed, seizing the segue. "And it's been a long day for both of us."
Dina looked up at him.
"I'd like to come to an understanding," Lorenzo concluded. "Here, I have some pamphlets-" He rummaged in his pockets and pulled the colorful flyers out, passing them to Dina. "It would mean a lot to me if you read them, and afterwards, if you have any questions, I would be happy to answer them."
Dina was not precisely eager, but she accepted the pamphlets and opened them, reading quietly and seriously while sipping her сбитень. Lorenzo watched her for a while, but began to feel uncomfortable, and distracted himself with reading. He had brought a Russian language book to brush up, just in case, but apart from Russian necromancy terms, he was extremely rusty. He wondered idly if he should have contacted Veles before he arrived, but involving death gods in anything was a last resort, and it wasn't as if he actually needed to travel through Veles's domain. He wasn't bringing a spirit back from the dead after all, he was more doing what Dina was doing- translating the Rusalka into something new.
Dina cleared her throat ever so lightly when she finished, and Lorenzo glanced at her nervously.
"You should stay and celebrate the New Year, Mister Fisch. You seem like a man who needs-" She paused, her eyes alighting on the tome he was reading as she searched for the right word, "You need a break."
She did not mean these words unkindly, but Lorenzo could tell that she was hardly convinced that her client wasn't crazy.
"Look," he said, "I don't want to spend tomorrow standing in a marsh any more than you do. I like the indoors, and I hate how cold your country is. But I wouldn't be doing it unless I really and earnestly believed in it." He paused. "I want you to understand what those pamphlets say, even if you don't believe them because I also believe in our professional relationship. Er, well, not so much that I believe, I suppose, but I need your skills for this. And even if you don't believe, I need you to be willing to believe in whatever you might see in the marsh."
He held out his hand and concluded, "S-so I say, even if we got off on the wrong foot, and things weren't entirely clear, I'm excited to work with you."
Dina sipped her сбитень and reached for his hand. "I will follow you to a marsh tomorrow, Mister Fisch, because I am the best at my agency, and because you seem to be a nice and earnest man who I feel a bit sorry for. But I am telling you now that if you do not tip me well, you had better believe very strongly in the afterlife that these pamphlets discuss."
Lorenzo smiled faintly. He could work with that.
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Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2015 12:51 am
The next morning was a tightly wound spring.
Dina and Lorenzo left early, eating a light breakfast in the inn, dressing warmly for the cold and overcast day, and leaving a note for anyone who might call them at the front desk. Over his toast, Lorenzo had studied Dina as she cut into her сирники, but if she felt anything about her decision to stay with him, her face was impassive. He was more worried about how she would handle the day to come. Reading friendly pamphlets was one thing, but brushing up against the afterlife was another, and no amount of slathered-on cheerful professional demeanor on Lorenzo's part could cushion the shock for the unprepared.
"All right," he said, after they had checked with the receptionist. "A few things, before we go."
Briskly, he zipped open the front pocket of his bag, and pulled out a pocketknife, a blindfold, and earplugs.
"In case the rusalka gets hostile, you must stop translating and get away," he explained in his friendliest professional tone. "If she sings, put in the earplugs. If you can't stand her beauty, blindfold yourself. If she tries to pull you in with her hair, cut it off." He pulled a face. "I should be fine, but I have to admit, I have less experience dealing with this kind of undead than I'd like."
Dina held the knife distastefully, flicking it open and closed just once. "And have we prepared some kind of trail, or are we just wandering into a swamp, Mister Fisch?"
"A very good question," Lorenzo encouraged. "Our guide should meet us here shortly."
There was a murmur from the few people in the lobby, and the pair of them looked up to be greeted by a brisk young man in a thick coat. He spoke rapidly in Russian, and Lorenzo looked to Dina, whose eyes widened for just a moment.
"Kliment Simonich. The mayor has sent me to lead you to the rusalka," he introduced again in English, looking first to the Dina, then back to Lorenzo.
"If he speaks English, why do you need me?" Dina hissed, leaning in near Lorenzo.
"I am only guiding you to the rusalka," Kliment replied coldly, overhearing the exchange. "I have no wish to deal with her."
"Her," Dina said flatly. "The rusalka."
"Hurry," Kliment prompted, looking at his watch. "If you want to be able to find your way back, we must make sure you can finish your business before dark." He lead the way out of the hotel and into a neat car, Lorenzo following, with Dina trailing hesitantly in the rear.
The ride was bumpy, and there was still a long walk through the marsh after that. Though she was considerably more reluctant than him, Dina soon outpaced Lorenzo wading through the harsh terrain, and Lorenzo began to wish he had participated in more of the exercises Nell had made up for the Licensed Necromancers' Committee. Dina was solemn at first, but her own sociable nature overtook her, and soon Lorenzo could hear her cheerfully chattering at Kliment in Russian between his own labored gasps. Kliment answered briefly, but not in an unfriendly way, though his replies became more curt the further they went into the marsh. Eventually, he shushed Dina, and the trip continued in miserable silence.
"We are at the edge of her territory," whispered Kliment to his wards. "Now you know the way. If you do not return, a party will only come as far as this border to retrieve you."
Dina rolled her eyes and looked at Lorenzo, but Lorenzo simply nodded at Kliment.
"Thank you for your assistance, Mister Simonich," he said briskly, and held out his hand, which Kliment shook reluctantly before he parted ways with them.
"I feel very small all of a sudden, alone in this marsh," Dina complained, clutching at her coat and breathing into the icy air.
"We're not alone," Lorenzo replied quietly. He checked his watch. "And we're right on time for our meeting."
The air smelled damp and mossy, and he turned around to see a thin figure with long red hair pull herself with difficulty onto the near bank.
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Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2015 2:23 pm
Lorenzo glanced back at Dina for half a moment to make sure she hadn't fainted as the rusalka crawled towards them. When he was sure that his translator was still upright, he walked towards the rusalka to meet her halfway, reaching his hand out to her and introducing himself:
"Hello! I'm Lorenzo Fisch, a licensed necromancer and Nicolina Fisch's son. She's sent me as a representative for Fisch and Co. offices to deal with your case. And this," he gestured behind him, "Is Dina, a translator here on my behalf today."
He paused to give Dina time to translate, and then looked back at her meaningfully when nothing happened. She caught his eye and startled, catching up to speed. She began to speak in Russian to the rusalka, who blinked, and then began to reply rapidly. Dina gesticulated wildly at it, and it began to slow down, looking questioningly at Lorenzo.
"What is it?"
"Its voice is strange and its dialect is old. I need some time."
Lorenzo waited, pulling his coat more tightly around himself as Dina and the Rusalka conversed.
"It wants to know... Where is the woman it spoke to last year?"
"My mother," Lorenzo interjected. "Nicolina can't be here. She has many pro bono cases like yours. We have spent the past year negotiating with the villagers about the construction, but the most they are allowing is for us to relocate you. Ultimately, there are far fewer laws protecting undead rights on Earth than on Gaia, and many of them are long defunct, so there is very little we can do legally to fight for your right to remain in the marsh."
Dina translated and the Rusalka began to fire back a heated response.
"...It says it cannot leave except during Green Week." Dina replied.
Lorenzo smiled as kindly as he could at the rusalka. "We have a few options. First, I could perform a ritual that would cut your ties to the living world and send you back to Veles." Dina scrunched up her face, and Lorenzo waved at her, saying, "I know the necromancy terms." With Dina's help, they cobbled together a translation, which seemed to distress the Rusalka.
Lorenzo continued, " If not that, on Gaia, there are some ways which I have been researching." He reached into his backpack and pulled out the photograph and a small briefcase. "Unfortunately, they all involve rebirth, but I think I have found a supportive and nurturing program." he showed the Rusalka the photograph of the Lab 305 guardians he had met and a number of other research documents he had pulled. "This program has rebirthed many mythological creatures such as yourself. Even a muse. The support network seems friendly and responsive, and the program is well into its tenth year, a respectable history for the sort of organization that it is."
Dina translated, and the rusalka snatched the photograph, peering at it hungrily. She fiddled with her long, wet hair, obviously distressed, then demanded something of Dina. Dina translated,
"No."
Lorenzo frowned. "At this point in time, there isn't much else that we can do for you, I'm afraid. We cannot legally force the villagers to stop construction, and they have made it clear to our agents that they are not open for negotiation."
The rusalka insisted louder: "No!" It began to speak angrily, and Dina translated.
"It says you and your mother are liars."
Lorenzo stood up, picking up his briefcase. "We've spent a year advocating for you! You must believe me, this is the best option. We've done all we can!"
"No!" The rusalka slid back into the water and glared at him from the surface. Her hair began to coil around his and Dina's feet, and Lorenzo stepped backwards, saying a few words to invoke a barrier between them. The rusalka hissed and her dark pupils shrank, but she stood up, dripping water and staring at them through the line dividing them.
"We will not be threatened. We are not your enemies. And neither are the villagers. The world has changed around you, and to be undead on Earth means you must learn to adapt and change even when your body and mind does not."
Dina looked at Lorenzo, but reluctantly translated. The rusalka hissed angrily, but her features relaxed and suddenly, she smiled. Lorenzo's head went fuzzy. He hadn't noticed before how beautiful she was, but now that he had a chance to look, he saw--
"Run, Mister Fisch!"
Lorenzo looked, and Dina had slipped behind him, putting the earplugs in his ears. Her knife was thrust up under his arms, and she had cut off a hank of red hair that was snaking towards them. She said some harsh words to the rusalka that were certainly not a translation of anything Lorenzo had said, and began to drag her client, half-stumbling behind her.
"It sang to make you lose your focus," Dina informed him once they had reached the boundary Kliment had left them at.
"She sang," Lorenzo corrected, still gasping slightly. He shrugged, and they began to walk back to the village.
"I'll pay you your fee at the inn," he told Dina as they neared the edge of the marsh. "Thank you for your service."
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Posted: Sun Dec 20, 2015 1:53 pm
"Dismissed?" Dina demanded incredulously, standing in the doorway of Lorenzo's room.
"Kliment can speak English, so I can at least communicate with the villagers. I'll find a way to communicate with the rusalka somehow."
"Mister Fisch, I think that you underestimate the difficulty of your situation. Maybe it is because your job is to deal with these impossible things, but let me inform you as a bystander, that doing what you are trying to do without a translator is extremely impossible."
"I won't risk you getting hurt," Lorenzo insisted as firmly as he could. "I couldn't withstand the rusalka's enchantment--"
"And if someone else had not been there, it would have killed you!" Dina finished.
"She would have killed me," Lorenzo corrected.
"She would have killed you!"
"Yes, and that's a risk of my job, but it's not supposed to be a risk of yours."
Dina deflated, looking at the check.
"If you leave now, you can make it home for New Year's," prompted Lorenzo.
"...Come with me," Dina said.
"Pardon?"
"Come with me!" she repeated. "Or go home, or... Just give up, Mister Fisch!" She paced the room anxiously. "Are you happy now? I believe you, but I cannot believe you. The rusalka is real. It may be real, but there is nothing you can do for it, and it-- she tried to kill you! And you still want to help her, but without even a translator?!" She stopped still, clenching her fists and resolved, "I cannot accept your check and leave you here, Mister Fisch. If I go home and celebrate New Year while you are here, the whole time, I will feel as though I have killed a man."
"I have to help her." Lorenzo insisted. "I'm her last chance."
Dina made a clicking noise with her tongue. "You have ruined my New Year's."
She stormed out of the room, and Lorenzo relaxed. He could deal with ruining Dina's New Year if it meant that she was out of harm's way. He had felt bad about bringing her along in the first place, and if a civilian died during his negotiations, that would be it for the rusalka. It would be difficult communicating with her, but maybe google translate or some kind of Russian dictionary would help. Or maybe he could somehow convince Kliment to listen over the phone and translate. Either way, meeting with the villagers and trying to negotiate was the next best step he could take with the rusalka uncooperative.
He looked at the briefcase from Lab 305, and idly brushed a hand over its surface. He would take that along, too. It was useless with the rusalka having rejected it, but it would show the villagers that the Fisch family had done as much as they could to work for the rusalka's behalf. That they were earnest about negotiating. Perhaps then they could see towards negotiating with the rusalka themselves.
He massaged his temples. The rusalka had always been a difficult case. On Earth, immobile, beyond contact- he and his mother had been working on the case practically blind, and the one good solution that had been able to find was Lab. Now that was a wash, he was officially out of ideas, no matter how much mental wiggling he was trying to do to find a solution.
He could think about it in the morning, he supposed. Now that he didn't have to worry about Dina's schedule, he was stuck here until he finished the job. And despite everything, he still found a shred of optimism in the situation. It would all look better with a full night's sleep.
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Posted: Sat Dec 26, 2015 8:29 pm
Things looked better after a good night's sleep.
Without having to worry about Dina getting in the way, Lorenzo could take bigger risks. So long as Kliment was willing to cooperate, it might be a little more tedious to translate, but not impossible, and if Kliment was doing it over the phone, he'd be safe as well. Dina was brave and she was helpful, but Lorenzo didn't like to be watched while he worked. He was certain that things had gone so badly the day before because of performance anxiety- in fact, the more he thought about it, the more certain he was. If he wanted to save the rusalka, it had to be just her and him. Alone.
An image of her flashed briefly into his mind as he shaved, and he splashed water onto his face.
He took a deep breath and looked into the mirror. Reflected back was a skinny little necromancer, just out of graduate school, totally unable to speak Russian, standing alone in a room where he had just dismissed his translator the night before. He didn't know what he was doing. His mother had sent him here because he wrote a paper on Russian death gods and because she thought her son could do no wrong, but he had just barely got his license for human resurrection and that was only for accidental and recent deaths. He had never had to deal with a spirit that needed anything complex from him. Worse than that, he had never dealt with so many living people that had a problem with that spirit. Living people were more frightening to him. He knew all the ways the rusalka could kill him, but a human with a bad opinion and an axe to grind could do anything they put their mind to. The skinny necromancer he saw in the mirror didn't want to talk to Kliment. He wanted to capture the rusalka's soul and go home, where he spoke the language, and the laws were on his side, and his friends were waiting with jokes and jobs and treats for his undead cat, Buddy.
Why had his mother asked him to do this? He felt a moment of anxious panic break through the calm he felt when he woke up, and he hiccuped, grabbing for a towel to bury his face in. It was dark and soft, and he took another ragged breath, drying his face with gentle, soft strokes.
He didn't know why the rusalka wouldn't listen to him.
But...
...He would definitely save her.
When he left the inn, he turned for a moment, bobbing up and down on the balls of his heels as he debated what to do. What he wanted to do was to just walk to the marsh himself. The last thing he wanted was to spend half his day bickering with living bureaucracy when he could be doing his job. It took all his resolve to drag himself towards the village council office, and even then, he could feel the allure of the marsh pulling at him. He needed a translator no matter what. Involving himself with living people, as a living person himself, and one incompetent at Russian, was inevitable.
"I'm looking," he said slowly to the baffled receptionist in the council office, "For Kliment. Kliment Simonich."
He paused, but the message had not gone through.
"Kliiiiment Siiiimoniiich?"
"Simonich?" the receptionist latched on to. Lorenzo nodded furiously. He picked up a phone and dialed, speaking rapidly into it, then gently guiding Lorenzo to a chair and sitting him down in it.
"Kliment Simonich," he informed Lorenzo, pointing at the hallway behind the reception counter. Lorenzo gave him a forced smile and a thumbs up, which was returned somewhat frantically.
Kliment eventually emerged, and he looked surprised to see Lorenzo. "Mister Fisch," he greeted warmly. "It was good of you to come and give us a final report on how you have dealt with the rusalka."
"Well," Lorenzo stammered awkwardly. Kliment's smile faded.
In Kliment's office, over some steaming cups of instant coffee, Lorenzo explained his situation and made his proposal.
"I do not know what Gaia is like, Mister Fisch," Kliment said coldly, "But I cannot translate for you over the phone because we do not get cell phone reception in marshes."
"Walkie talkies, then." Lorenzo suggested. "You'll still be out of her range."
"Why not get your translator to do this? I am a busy man, Mister Fisch."
"She doesn't deserve this. She has no investment in dealing with the rusalka, and it's not fair to her, especially not now that she's already put her life at risk."
"And what is my incentive? We plan to build, rusalka or no."
"Even if she can't stop you, it'll be safer for the builders if she's not there. And-" Lorenzo hesitated, wringing his hands in his lap, "And the village is responsible for the rusalka being here."
Kliment's back stiffened for a moment, then he leaned in slightly. "Elaborate."
"You are familiar with how rusalki are born, correct? Necromancers can't make them. They're made when a young woman is driven to suicide or murdered." As he spoke, Lorenzo seemed to gain some confidence, and raised his gaze from his lap to meet Kliment's. "I don't know this particular rusalka's circumstances. But even if it was one hundred, two hundred, three hundred years ago, at some point she was grievously wronged by someone in your village."
He lost his nerve and dropped his gaze again. "A-anyway. I'm not asking for you to bring her killer to justice. I'm not asking for anything outlandish. But your village has a stake in relocating her."
Kliment stood up roughly from his desk.
"Mister Fisch," he said briskly. "Follow me."
Walking Lorenzo back down the hall of the council building, Kliment gestured at the photographs lining the wall. Some of them were of previous councilors, poised and professional and slightly sweaty in their best suits. But the others looked more like family photos, some in black and white, some faded polaroids. All of them were of youngish men, and they all looked vaguely similar. Kliment stopped in front of the last one.
He gestured down the hallway. "All of these boys were killed by your rusalka."
Lorenzo looked back. In all, there were maybe fifteen or twenty portraits.
"She has taken her pound of flesh for whatever we may have done hundreds of years ago, Mister Fisch. We owe her nothing."
Lorenzo rubbed his temples. "Look, it's not about who owes who! I never said you owe her. I'm saying that she is here because of you. Like it or not, her fate is inextricably tied to the village's. She is your business as much as mine, so regardless of who owes who, if you don't want some shiny new pictures of construction workers hanging on this wall next year, I need to deal with her, and I need your help. And the more favorable she is to the solution, the less it will hurt for both sides. For you, not just for her. It's a civic duty, like taxes, or parking regulations, it's not fun, but someone has to do it."
He paused, taking a deep breath. He could feel another bubble of anxiety rising in his chest, and he swallowed, clenching his fists. "That's all."
Some people were shuffling out of offices now, having heard the conversation. Kliment sized up Lorenzo and looked at the pictures on the wall.
"Fine. We have an investment in it. I will meet you outside, Mister Fisch."
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Posted: Sun Dec 27, 2015 6:33 pm
Lorenzo felt a nervous buzzing in his head as he and Kliment drove to the marsh. He had wasted too much time. He should have been knee deep in the marsh negotiating with the rusalka already by now, but Kliment had to be difficult, and they had fought, and he was pretty sure that Kliment resented him, which was frustrating because he had to depend on Kliment to make things work.
"Look, I'm sorry you have to do this," offered Lorenzo as an olive branch.
"I do my job for my community," Kliment replied curtly, cutting him off.
"I'll do my best to help your community, too," Lorenzo shot back, bristling slightly. "And everyone in it."
He missed Dina.
They clambered out of the car in silence and walked to the marsh in silence, turned on their walkie talkies in silence, and Kliment silently watched as Lorenzo walked past the boundary of the rusalka's territory. A cold wind was rising and whistling quietly through the trees. Kliment hugged his arms around himself and shuddered, but Lorenzo barely noticed. The relief he felt to be back here was almost palpable. But the wind, picking up to a howl, cut through his reverie for the briefest moment, and he hesitated.
"Wish me luck," he asked as he hovered on the edge of the boundary. To his surprise, Kliment's expression softened slightly.
"Good luck, Mister Fisch." He paused. "...I do recognize your efforts."
Lorenzo smiled wanly and walked beyond the pale.
The snow crunched under his boots as he walked, and once he was far enough away from the border that he judged Kliment would not be in danger, he sat down heavily in the snow, speaking into his walkie talkie. "No sign of her. Over."
There was a crackling sound, and faint voices from the other side, but no reply. Lorenzo furrowed his brow, and lifted the walkie talkie once more, but there was a noise behind him, and he jolted.
The rusalka was struggling to pull herself to the bank behind him. He breathed heavily and dropped the walkie talkie, standing up and walking over to her. Slowly, he reached out and grabbed her hands, pulling her onto the land beside him, where she peered at him suspiciously.
"Lorenzo Fisch," Lorenzo said, sticking his hand out towards her again. She shrank back and he withdrew, offering it more slowly. She took his hand and he shook hers very gingerly. It was small, cold, and frail.
"I want to know what you want," Lorenzo said, and when the rusalka didn't respond, he realized, and patted himself for the walkie talkie. "Hold on,"
"Fisch," she said simply.
"Fisch," said the rusalka again, as he got up.
"Yes, just..."
He tripped, and realized that while he had been shaking her hand, her hair had tangled around his legs.
"Oh god. Fisch."
"Mister Fisch!" a voice rang out through the night, and an object flew past his head, hitting the rusalka. Lorenzo blinked and looked up.
"What--"
"Mister Fisch!" said the voice again, and he felt his scrawny frame being hefted bodily and pulled away. "Draw the barrier!"
Lorenzo said the words instinctively, and the line appeared between him and the rusalka. Immediately the fog that had been hanging over his head all day cleared.
"Agh, what?" He rubbed his temple, collapsing on the ground. When he looked up, Dina was brushing him off briskly.
"...Dina?"
"I came to say goodbye to you, Mister Fisch, but you weren't carrying your briefcase. You clutched it so tightly before, I felt like something was wrong."
"The enchantment" Lorenzo mumbled. "I must have still been affected by it."
Dina was looking past him now though, at the rusalka, who was burbling and spitting angrily. She spoke to the rusalka, and it stopped.
"I asked her what she wants for you," Dina said.
"You don't have to do that," muttered Lorenzo.
"Oh, I am charging you for my time, Mister Fisch, do not worry on that account."
Dina's expression smoothed over as the rusalka replied, and she translated back for Lorenzo. "I want to go home."
"We can't send her home," Lorenzo shot back. "She must be hundreds of years old. There's no home to go to."
"Then use your magic somehow, if you're a necromancer! I've heard the stories--"
"My magic," Lorenzo said, standing up on wobbly legs now, "Doesn't work on people who have committed suicide."
Dina hesitated, but translated slowly. The rusalka withdrew, as if stung, splashing back into the water.
"How could you accuse me of such a thing?!" Dina translated.
"I suspected it when Dina caught me and I realized that the enchantment still had a hold on me," Lorenzo replied as gently as possible. "There are two ways to make a rusalka- a girl is murdered, or she commits suicide. Necromantic magic will not affect those who died because they no longer desired to live."
"I was driven to it. I cherished my life!"
"Do you remember your life?" Lorenzo asked. "I've introduced myself to you several times, but I can't help but notice that you never introduce yourself back."
"I..."
"Your name, what is it?"
"It's..."
The rusalka clutched its head and let out a thin wail. Next to Lorenzo, Dina looked stricken. She looked back at Lorenzo, who gestured to the barrier. She nodded, and Lorenzo lowered it, walking toward the rusalka.
"There's a better community for you out there somewhere. A better life. I won't make you go there if you don't agree to it, but you can't stay here."
The rusalka pulled something from her enormous hair, and Lorenzo looked, then realized it was the photograph he had left with her last time. It was strange to see his florist's soggy face staring blankly out at him in the middle of a marsh in Russia.
"Them?"
"Them. And me. I'll look after you, it's not a problem. The undead community on Gaia, well, we're really a family. We look out for each other. We remember each other."
She looked at him suspiciously and touched his warm hand. "You are not dead."
"Even the ones who are still alive," he assured, giving her a faint grin.
Turning back to Dina, he asked, "Dina, did you bring the briefcase?"
"They wouldn't let me in to your room," Dina admitted.
"Well then," Lorenzo said, puffing out his cheeks. "We'll, ah, just let you consider that offer for today, and we'll, uh, be back tomorrow."
"First thing," Dina suggested.
"Yes! First thing."
The rusalka watched them, and her hair snaked around Lorenzo's feet again, but it did not entangle him. He could hear Dina behind him preparing to throw another of her belongings if the rusalka tried, and it spurred him to go pick up the flashlight she had thrown the first time.
The rusalka asked something quietly, and Dina replied back, causing the rusalka to repeat what she said so that Dina could hear.
"...What if tomorrow I do not want to go?" Dina translated finally.
"We won't do anything unless you do want to go," Lorenzo told the rusalka. "I promise."
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Posted: Mon Dec 28, 2015 11:27 pm
The moment Lorenzo strode past the boundary of the rusalka's territory, he collapsed. When he woke, he felt the vague rattling of the car managing the rough rural road, Dina's hand absently stroking his forehead. He groaned, and suddenly Dina's face was right up against his, far too close for comfort. Yelping, he pushed her away.
"Mmmmphter Fisch!" she exclaimed as his palm struck up against her mouth. "Are you feeling all right?"
The wave of bad decisions he had made under the rusalka's enchantment came flooding back to him. "My dignity is pretty bruised," he moaned, burying his face in his hands.
"Well, for what it's worth, I think that you were a pretty cool customer today," Dina said primly. "After I saved you again, of course."
"I thought I was being so logical, firing you." Lorenzo rubbed his temples. "Her enchantment... It wasn't like what I expected at all. I wasn't thinking of her or how beautiful she was. I just-- I just came up with the right justifications to convince myself to do what she wanted. To come to her alone without the briefcase."
"I do not think that a normal enchantment would work on a man who is more interested in making informative pamphlets and dead people than in making sure he is not wearing his shirt inside out," Dina observed. Lorenzo glanced down at his shirt automatically.
"Are you sure the enchantment is broken?" Kliment said, breaking his silence.
"I... I think so," Lorenzo replied, trying hard to cut through the fuzz in his head and take stock of himself. "I feel like she trusts us more now. I don't think she feels like she has to rely on enchantments to bring us back."
"And you will go back and capture her tomorrow?" Kliment asked.
"If tomorrow she feels like she wants to come with us, we will." Lorenzo shot back defensively. The word 'capture' did not sat well with him. He drew his coat around him, and moving made his head hurt again. "Agh," he grunted, clenching his teeth. "I need water." The enchantment had been subtle in some ways, but clumsy in others- he had only done what he had to in order to get closer to the rusalka. Eating and drinking had been discarded as unnecessary time wasters, so apart from the instant coffee he had drunk in Kliment's office, he was running on empty.
"We'll be at the inn soon," Dina reassured.
"We should get him to a doctor," Kliment interjected, glancing back at Lorenzo anxiously.
"I'm fine," Lorenzo muttered. "I just need to rest."
"No, Mister Simonich is right," Dina said. "You are not undead, Mister Fisch. You need to take care of yourself."
"I can take care of myself just fine," Lorenzo replied peevishly. "We have too much to do. I have to write a report to my mother, and I want to be prepared for tomorrow, and--" He stopped for a moment to groan again as his stomach jabbed with a very insistent pain. "...And I want a hamburger with that water."
"First doctor, then burger," Dina insisted. "Mister Simonich, do you know a doctor that will look at him?"
"There is no one in this village who is used to treating necromancers, but there is one doctor I know who may be qualified to check up on clients like Mister Fisch." Kliment said, and turned down a road leading away from the inn.
"There's nothing wrong with me," Lorenzo insisted, "I have my own clients to take care of."
"How many times have you nearly died this week?" Dina asked Lorenzo skeptically.
"Only twice," Lorenzo retorted.
"Well," Dina insisted, "Since dead men do not pay me, let's try to avoid lucky number three."
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Posted: Tue Dec 29, 2015 9:20 pm
Somewhere between being poked and prodded by the doctor, who could or would not describe the nature of any of his pokings and proddings in English, and waiting for Kliment and Dina to finish talking to him, Lorenzo had fallen asleep. When he woke, it was dark, Dina and Kliment were gone, and he was lying in a bed.
Thinking they must have taken him back to the inn, Lorenzo groped around for the nightstand, and turned on the light. He had to brush his teeth and change, but also, he smelled food, and his stomach was still quietly trying to destroy him in revenge for his dereliction of duty.
There was, in fact, a cup of stew, still lukewarm on the nightstand, which he wolfed down ravenously, but as his hunger abated, he realized one very important thing.
This was not his room at the inn.
Normally when a necromancer woke up in an unfamiliar room they had been locked up to await possible torches and pitchforks. He had been raised to expect the worst from surprises, but generally irate villagers didn't leave meals out for their guests, so Lorenzo was able to allow himself room to be calm about the situation. Finishing his stew, he got up and tried the door, which, to his immense relief, was unlocked. There was a set of stairs descending to a room which appeared to be lit, and he heard Dina's loud and friendly voice coming from under the door. He let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding and descended the stairs to join her, but just as he was about to open the door, he hesitated.
Dina's voice sounded harried. He couldn't understand her, and he couldn't even hear the people she was conversing with, but whatever they were saying, her usual chipper attitude was under serious strain.
If he could just understand Russian, he supposed that this situation could be a lot more useful for him. As it was, there was nothing he could do but play up being an idiot foreigner, opening the door cheerfully and holding up his bowl exclaiming, "The stew was delicious! Where's the sink?"
Kliment, Dina, and the doctor jolted as he entered the room. Lorenzo was no sharp judge of character, but Dina looked decidedly worried.
"Mister Fisch," Kliment intervened smoothly. "You are awake. We were reluctant to disturb you, but the doctor has some small concern."
"Mister Simonich thinks you are still enchanted," said Dina quietly.
"I think," Kliment intervened, "That a man who has already been enchanted once, almost killed twice, and blacked out twice in one day should not be sent to capture a deadly rusalka first thing tomorrow morning."
"We aren't capturing her," Lorenzo shot back. "We're helping her."
"On whose terms?" Kliment challenged.
"On her terms!" Lorenzo asserted.
"That is what I am afraid of, Mister Fisch. We have seen what sort of terms the rusalka finds acceptable, and how she negotiates."
"She was just frightened at first, but now she's willing to listen. Tomorrow morning it'll all be over anyway," Lorenzo deflected.
"If she agrees to go with you," Kliment said. "If not, what then?"
"We'll keep trying to convince her."
"That is precisely what she wants, Mister Fisch." Kliment insisted. "That is what she always wants, to capture men by any means she can. You are just a man she cannot drag so easily into the marsh."
"I'm too old for her," Lorenzo rebutted jokingly. "Dina, how much do I owe the doctor?"
Dina spoke to the doctor in rapid Russian, and their conversation went on for several minutes. Kliment joined in, and again, Lorenzo lamented that he didn't know Russian. The conversation had obviously gone past who owed who what, but he couldn't make heads or tails of it.
Eventually, Dina said a sharp word, and turned to Lorenzo. "We should go," she said primly, grabbing Lorenzo's hand (much to his distress) and pulling him to the door. "Let's wait in the car."
Kliment grabbed his other arm, and Lorenzo sorely wished that he was in less handsy company. "What he said," Kliment informed Lorenzo, "Is that you and Dina have both been compromised. You need rest."
"Yes, well, I was very recently enchanted," Lorenzo replied, trying futilely to at least shake one of his hands free, "But a good night's sleep is more than sufficient--"
"Mister Fisch," Kliment said tersely, "I know that we are often at odds, but understand that I am concerned for you. There is always a boy or two who wanders too far afield during Rusalnaya Nedelja. Doctor Ostrovsky has treated the survivors for years."
"Yes, well, I've been a licensed necromancer for three years now, and if I could just have one of my hands free, I could show you my license card, even--"
"You need at least a week to recover!" Kliment insisted.
"Can we just assume," Lorenzo finally snapped, "That I, a man who has actually studied undead creatures extensively, know more about rusalki than a rural Russian doctor, and can we also stop treating me like a rag doll, please!" He yanked his arms away from both Dina and Kliment, and brushed himself off, feeling extremely put-upon. He then pulled his license card from his pocket and showed it to Kliment, to Dina, and to the doctor for good measure.
Collecting himself, he shook his head. "Thank you for your concern, Mister Simonich. However, my health isn't your responsibility."
"Understood," Kliment said curtly, and strode out to the car.
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Posted: Wed Dec 30, 2015 5:42 pm
"Mister Fisch?"
Comfortably perched on his bed at the inn, Lorenzo looked up from where he was crouched over his laptop, drafting reports and answering emails.
"Come in," he called, before he remembered that the door was locked, and reluctantly stood up, stretching before he shuffled over to open it.
Dina was waiting outside, holding a half-packed bag and two mugs of сбитень. "We need to talk," she told him.
"Should we go to the lounge?" Lorenzo asked.
"I would prefer to talk alone."
Lorenzo hesitated, and while he hesitated, Dina insinuated herself past him and sat on the floor, leaning against the bedframe and breathing in the steam from her сбитень. He opened the door to ask her to leave, but as he did, he saw her drink was spilling slightly over the edges. Her hands were shaking. He closed the door quietly and sat down next to her, sipping his own drink.
"I'm getting used to this stuff," he remarked quietly, sipping the сбитень again.
"Me too," Dina replied, and she laughed.
"It scares me."
Lorenzo put down his drink, and she pressed on. "Mister Fisch, I didn't believe in any of this three days ago, and now I've hit a rusalka twice, and every time we walk into that marsh, I feel like I'm going to puke--" Her voice began to break. Lorenzo felt that he should put an arm around her at the very least, but he couldn't quite bring himself to touch her, so his arm simply hovered helplessly over her while she swiped at her eyes angrily. He withdrew his arm and grimaced awkwardly.
This was his fault.
"I don't think the rusalka is scary," he said, and Dina looked up angrily. He raised his hand to stop her. "T-talking! Talking to strangers scares me. Talking on the phone especially." He fidgeted with his hands and continued, "I-I should have just faced my fears, though. Wh-when I was booking a translator. I should have made sure they understood the situation, but I, uh," he gulped, "I was just thinking about wh-when I could hang up."
"I did this to you."
He looked away, but kept going, although it looked as though he was addressing the nightstand.
"A-and if you really feel like you want to puke, coming back into the marsh when I said you could go was amazing." Lorenzo finished. "Really. I never could have done it." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "E-even sticking around after you found out that I was a necromancer was really amazing. Even Gaians think it's weird. You Earth folk normally just think I'm insane."
It was Dina's turn to look away. "Yes, well. I have yet to make a decision regarding your sanity, Mister Fisch."
"You can go if you want to, you know." Lorenzo said. "You've already been amazing."
"And leave you to drown, strangle, be doctored, and flounder around with Russian dictionaries? That is just talk and you know it."
Lorenzo laughed. "I wish it wasn't. We could talk to Kliment, maybe, and then maybe he could take over translating for real this time."
"I will not make it back in time for New Year's anyway," Dina noted sullenly.
"Well, you could still find a party somewhere, maybe," Lorenzo offered.
"If I left now," Dina said slowly, "I would always wonder what happened next. What it looked like when the rusalka came with you."
"She might not come with me," Lorenzo pointed out. "Mister Simonich could be right. This could all end very badly for everybody."
Dina shook her head "If I do not see it through, i think it won't ever end for me." She leaned back against the bed and turned towards Lorenzo, who startled and looked down at his drink. "I need it to end, Mister Fisch, if I want to peacefully celebrate the New Year. Even if I'm celebrating it alone in a train car."
"Y-you won't be alone!" Lorenzo said suddenly. "It's just a day away. I-I'll celebrate, too." He got up and grabbed the suitcase from the Lab, pulling it onto his lap and patting it.
"We all will. Tomorrow, this will all be over, and we'll have a whole day left to celebrate. Uh, if that's okay with you."
Dina smiled. "I'd like that, Mister Fisch."
Lorenzo was not sure he would like it, but he had offered in the spur of the moment, and he felt it was the least he could do.
"Well," Dina said, getting up and downing her drink in one last gulp, "It seems that we have a big day tomorrow."
"Y-yes!" Lorenzo stammered, leaping to his feet to open the door for her. "Thanks for the..." he scrunched his face up for a moment.
"сбитень," Dina reminded.
"сбитень. And everything else."
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Posted: Wed Dec 30, 2015 10:46 pm
The morning before New Year's Eve was foggy and cloudy. Lorenzo stumbled out of bed with a headache, although he had gone with less food and less sleep consequence-free during exams in college. He was only twenty-five, but he supposed that his own bad habits were catching up with him. He stumbled out of his room with the taste of toothpaste still lingering in his mouth, and vaguely flopped into one of the chairs in the lobby. He noticed somewhat resentfully that Dina was chipper and cheerful as usual. She was probably a morning person. He had never been able to fall asleep earlier than two in the morning in any timezone.
"Good morning, Mister Fisch!" Dina said cheerfully. "Mister Simonich will be here momentarily."
Lorenzo groggily remembered the state Dina had been in last night, and used all the meager wakeful energy he had to say "Good morning! Let's get going." as chipperly as possible. He allowed himself to be dragged outside and into the rental car, and he yawned as Dina chattered to Kliment in Russian as if nothing had happened between them the night before either. Lorenzo didn't know how she did it. He could barely look Kliment in the eye. He put the suitcase from Lab into the seat next to him and buckled up, then, as an afterthought, buckled the suitcase up too.
When they got to the marsh, Kliment closed the driver's side door noisily, and they trudged down the same path again as they had for the last three days. As tired as Lorenzo was, it felt a little like a dream-- How long had he spent in Russia, actually? It felt like minutes and years at the same time. If he died today, there was no necromancer around to treat him like his father had been that day he had died on the force when Lorenzo was ten. He had never imagined being in a situation where he might die permanently. He felt a little giddy. He supposed that this was, for the first time, fear of death.
"Mister Fisch."
Lorenzo collected himself. Kliment was looking at him, had spoken to him now, and he saw they had again reached the boundary of the rusalka's territory. "Mister Simonich. Thank you for all your assistance these past three days--"
"I am coming with you this time, Mister Fisch."
"There's no need, I assure you, to put yourself in danger."
"It is my responsibility as a representative of the village. Our doctor has said you need to rest, and if you will not rest, there should at least be someone with you who has never heard the rusalka sing."
"Thank you." Lorenzo said, and took a deep breath, hefting the suitcase a little higher. "Ready?"
Kliment nodded curtly. Dina hesitated, clenching her fists ever so slightly, before bouncing on the balls of her feet and forcing a smile. "Ready, Mister Fisch!"
"Right."
Lorenzo hopped neatly over the boundary marking stones and repeated, "Right."
Walking further ahead, he felt the rusalka before he saw her, the faintest dampness in the air which clung to his skin and lingered. Moments later, he saw the rusalka herself, barely visible, but peering cautiously and suspiciously out from the surface of the water. Upon spotting Lorenzo, she startled, but rallied, swimming up the the shore and placing her arms onto dry land with some small struggle. Lorenzo's eyes were locked onto her, the frail figure she cut with her long red hair billowing around her, but he could hear Dina and Kliment's heavy breaths as they caught up behind him.
"Fisch," greeted the rusalka, and she looked more balefully at his companions, speaking to them harshly in Russian.
"She is thrilled to see us all," Dina translated brightly.
Lorenzo reached out his hand, and the rusalka hesitated, but took it and let him shake it gingerly.
"I have the suitcase this time. Have you made a decision?"
The rusalka drew back when she noticed the suitcase and spoke in rapid Russian. Dina made a frustrated noise and told the rusalka off, and the rusalka fell silent. This time, Kliment spoke up, unusually gently, and the rusalka started again, more slowly.
"She is not answering you," Dina grumbled after the rusalka finally finished.
"What is she saying?" Lorenzo asked.
"She thought about her past. She remembers some of it. Some names. She does not know which name is hers. She remembers what her house looked like, vaguely. She remembers that there were flowers that bloomed in spring, and she loved to pick them, and that she hated her chores. And she remembers a man's face, very clearly, and that it hurt to look at him. And she thinks that all these things were worthwhile." Dina concluded, and took a deep breath. She looked at Kliment for confirmation. He nodded.
"Will you come with us?" Lorenzo asked. The rusalka bit her lip and leaned forward, pulling Lorenzo's face towards hers. Recoiling at the sudden touch, he lost his balance and toppled into the water with a splash.
Three things happened at once. One, the briefcase, which had been left on shore, fell over. Two, Dina shrieked "Mister Fisch!" Three, Kliment declared, "Enough," and lunged for the briefcase.
Lorenzo stumbled out of the water in time to see Kliment opening the briefcase and sucked in his breath as the rusalka's form began to blur and the bottle began to glow. "No, Mister Simonich! She hasn't agreed!" He fell on Kliment, and a wrestle for the briefcase ensued. As they fought, the rusalka solidified again, bruised, shocked, and screeching, drowning out Lorenzo and Kliment's bickering entirely. Dina looked on helplessly for a moment, unsure who to aid, then rolled up her sleeves and fell into the fray, trying at least to pull it away from both of them and give them a chance to calm down.
There was a sickening moment where all three of them grabbed the suitcase, then it slipped out of their grasps and went flying. All four of them, the rusalka included, watched the suitcase land in the marsh with a splash, and the rusalka's hair tangled around it impenetrably. Dina grasped her knife, but the rusalka seemed shocked. Her hair floated limply in the water as she waded out to where the briefcase was, and she cracked it open again, shutting it quickly, as her features began to blur. She looked back at Lorenzo and Kliment unseeingly, then sank under the water smoothly as if Lorenzo really had been dreaming her this whole time, briefcase and all.
The three humans sat panting on the bank.
"I tripped," Lorenzo insisted angrily, coughing up water.
"You were pulled," Kliment retorted, "For saving your life, you are welcome."
"And what about her life?" Lorenzo demanded, gesturing at the marsh.
Kliment turned away mutinously. Dina dragged Lorenzo to his feet and peered out at the still water.
"Come, Mister Fisch," she coaxed. "If we want to save your life properly, we must return to the inn and dry you off."
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Posted: Thu Dec 31, 2015 8:14 pm
The next morning, Lorenzo stood at the edge of the marsh shouting himself hoarse to no avail. The rusalka was nowhere in sight, and once his voice started to go, Dina pulled him struggling back through the marsh and into Kliment's car.
"Wait," Lorenzo rasped, looking back at the marsh.
"Mister Fisch, she is not coming today!" Dina insisted, "Do you really want to make yourself sick?"
Lorenzo rubbed his throat and pulled his coat around him, sinking back into his seat.
"You need a break," Dina informed him. "You promised we would celebrate New Year."
"I'm not really in a celebrating mood per se," Lorenzo grumbled.
"Well, you owe me, so I insist," Dina retorted lightly. "It will be fun, Mister Fisch. We can sing the songs and watch the shows and eat the snacks and shred some of your unsettling pamphlets to make confetti."
Kliment cleared his throat. "The village has a communal celebration in the council offices if you are interested in attending," he told Dina.
Dina leaned in mischievously. "Are you inviting us, Mister Simonich?" she asked. "How kind you've become since we met."
Kliment gave her a stern look for her troubles and corrected, "The celebration is open to everyone," but Dina kept teasing him, switching smoothly to Russian and batting his shoulder lightly. Lorenzo pulled his coat over his head and tried to block out the noise and activity. He had felt nauseous and sick since yesterday. He wasn't worried about whether it could be the rusalka's enchantment. From the events of yesterday, she had no desire to see any of them again. It was the anxiety that was churning his stomach, and the only way to fix it was to find the rusalka again. Until he could make that happen, he just wanted to be alone to think.
Sitting in an incredibly cramped council office several hours later after taking a nap and being forced into his most horrible casual sweater by Dina, Lorenzo watched a village full of strangers get drunk. It would have been funny, at least, to see Kliment lose his cool outward demeanor, except that Lorenzo was still furious at him. At least people seemed, for the most part, to avoid him. Probably the word about his being a necromancer had spread around. He and Dina had stuck some of his friendly informative pamphlets on the buffet table, because he was frustrated, but he was not above a chance to Educate. It had made him feel ever so slightly better.
Dina was having considerably more success blending in than Lorenzo, but apart from being an extrovert, she also had the distinct advantage of knowing the language. At least she got to enjoy New Year's Eve after all. She deserved this much, at least.
He tried to find her in the crowd again, and when he spotted her, their eyes met. She walked over to him with a glass, and stuck it in his hands cheerfully.
"сбитень?" he asked, taking a sip and bursting into a violent coughing fit.
Dina laughed. "Yes, Mister Fisch, but this сбитень is a tiny bit alcoholic."
"I see that," Lorenzo croaked hoarsely as Dina flopped down next to him. "What've you got?"
She lifted her mug. "Champagne." Taking a sip, she winced as the fizz went down, and said, "This, too, is traditional."
"I know," Lorenzo said unsteadily. "They keep offering me more whenever they feel uncomfortable around me."
"I thought that your skin looked less pale," Dina joked, nudging his shoulder.
"How much longer till midnight?" Lorenzo asked.
Dina looked up at the clock. "Four hours."
Lorenzo took a long swig of his сбитень.
Looking around for something to amuse him, Dina's eyes alighted on the television. "Have you been watching the movies, Mister Fisch?"
"I can't understand them."
"This one is a musical though! It is called Карнавальная ночь, Carnival Night. You can just listen to the songs. To watch this is traditional on New Year's as well." Lorenzo leaned in a little. Dina grabbed his arm and urged, "Here, here."
She began to sing along, and Lorenzo realized that more than a few of the people crowded around the television were singing along already.
"This one is, ah..." She squinted, trying to think of a translation. "Song About A Good Mood. Ah, Mister Fisch!" she panicked, her hands fluttering over him helplessly. "I said it is about a good mood, look up now, look up."
Lorenzo groaned. "I feel sick." He stood up abruptly. "I need to go outside."
Dina followed him out. "Was it the alcohol, Mister Fisch?" she asked, looking concerned. "I can get you something. You should be inside celebrating."
"No," Lorenzo said, rubbing his temples, "I just can't... I can't be in there celebrating right now."
"Mister Fisch, you promised to relax."
"I can't! I can't sit there pretending I'm part of this community I don't even particularly like and trying to have a good time when my client is holed up alone, confused, and hurt, and isolated from these people that she has more claim to belong to than I ever will!" He kicked up some snow in frustration. "What kind of hypocrite does that make me, Dina? Even if the rusalka shows up again today or tomorrow or a month from now begging me to sign her up for the Lab 305 program, how could I possibly be a suitable guardian for her if I could guiltlessly enjoy doing something like that?"
He took a deep breath. "I'll go back to the inn and plan for tomorrow. I'm sorry I couldn't stay for the whole party. I just can't do it."
Dina shook her head. "No, Mister Fisch. I understand your point. Let me get your coat."
She disappeared back into the council hall, and when she came out, she was wearing her coat, too. She tossed Lorenzo his, and he started to walk back, she grabbed his arm.
"Wait, Mister Fisch. I borrowed Kliment's keys. Let's go back to the marsh one more time for tonight."
"Kliment?" Lorenzo asked, opening the passenger door.
"If he lent us keys to use his car to go meet a rusalka in a marsh at midnight," Dina surmised, "He is too drunk for me to rightfully refer to him as formally as 'Mister Simonich'."
"And can you drive?" asked Lorenzo skeptically.
"I just had a very small amount of drink," Dina replied primly. "I am still on the clock, after all. So, Mister Fisch? Where to?"
Lorenzo considered.
"Let's go wish my client a happy new year."
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Posted: Fri Jan 01, 2016 8:20 pm
"Three hours remain," Dina said, glancing at her phone as they approached the edge of the marsh. "Will we just wait here?"
"No," Lorenzo replied, taking off his coat. "If she won't come to us, we'll have to go to her. She must have some kind of hideaway in here."
"Wait, Mister Fisch. You are not planning to swim around blindly until you find it?" Dina caught his coat and peered over it anxiously.
"Yes," Lorenzo replied confidently, and Dina threw his coat back over him.
"Did you not have enough the last time you fell in?" she demanded. "That's freezing water!"
"No," Lorenzo said calmly, "It's not." Stepping in with a splash, he held out a damp hand to Dina, who touched it and gaped.
"I felt it when I fell in," Lorenzo told her. "It was difficult to be wet and exposed to the cold air. You were absolutely right to take me back to the inn to recover yesterday. But as long as I'm in the water, I should be fine."
"I don't understand," Dina murmured, putting her own hand into the water.
"It's the rusalka, I think," Lorenzo replied. "I've been thinking about it all day, and I think I finally have a theory. She's been getting around easily in this water, but by all means, it should be frozen over. Kliment called this part of the marsh the rusalka's "territory", but technically, so long as it's submerged in water, there should be nothing stopping her from going into any part of the marsh. This part in particular, though, must be connected to the other side."
"The other side?"
Lorenzo drew a circle in the air with his finger. "The rusalka is a Slavic myth. The Slavic underworld is wet and green, and it's always spring. The water here specifically must flow from that other world so the rusalka can navigate in the winter. And if I follow it, I'll find out where she's hiding."
"You?"
Lorenzo reached into his bag and pulled out one of the walkie talkies. "I don't want to overwhelm her again," he explained. "I think that if this is going to happen, I should do it alone."
Dina threw the walkie talkie back at him rebelliously. "Oh no, Mister Fisch. You said that you would celebrate the New Year with me." She scrunched her own coat up to her breast, set down her bag, and dashed into the water all at once, wincing with anticipation as she hit it. Breathing deeply as she got used to the sudden soaking, she said, "There, now I cannot wait for you on land either. Let's go find her."
Lorenzo tested the water and walked in with Dina. Shivering slightly, he pulled out a file and looked through the marsh. Speaking two names in Russian and some latin words, he watched as the marsh water lit up, the ghost lights pulsing gently on the surface like the fireworks the villagers would be setting off at midnight. "I've called two of her victims," he told Dina. "If we follow this trail, we should find their final resting place. It's very basic magic."
Dina looked back at the shore, suddenly repentant. Lorenzo realized he had never actually done any necromantic magic around her, except for the barrier. He held out a hand reluctantly, and only fidgeted a little when she hesitantly took it.
"Do you know any other New Year songs?" he asked gently.
Dina nodded.
"Let's sing them."
Their reedy voices rang out over the marsh as they followed the ghost lights, Lorenzo stumbling over his own words as Dina taught him to sing along. The rusalka's territory was just a small part of the marsh, but it was not, in and of itself, small. The ghost lights stretched out far ahead of them and promised them a long New Year's Eve.
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Posted: Sat Jan 02, 2016 11:59 am
They smelled it first.
Dina reeled back and Lorenzo coughed as the rotted scent began to linger in the air. Covering his mouth with a cloth, Lorenzo looked back at Dina and let go of her hand, wading ahead to what looked to be some kind of secluded glade. The ghost lights were still lighting the way, hovering eerily in the air and casting the marsh in a bluish glow, but the light was dim. Lorenzo squinted. There was a form in front of him which could have been the rusalka, and he reached out to it, but quickly withdrew his hand. The ghost lights flickered brighter for a second, and he saw that it was a boy's corpse, preserved in the marsh, but judging from the half-rotted clothes, a victim that had been claimed long ago.
He looked back at Dina and shook his head at her, but she waded forward with him anyway, reaching out for his hand again. When she saw the corpse, she recoiled, but she took a deep breath, and waded forward again.
Lorenzo grabbed her arm.
"There'll be many more," he warned.
"Then let's try and avoid looking at them, please, Mister Fisch," Dina said shakily.
It was easier said than done. The corpses were sat in a circle around the glade, more or less. A few had sunk to the bottom of the shallow pool, and a few were in pieces. There were other odds and ends decorating the area that must have once belonged to them, reclaimed by the rusalka for decorating: an old cell phone, a sash, some bottlecaps. And, Lorenzo realized, as he glimpsed a familiar face, the picture of the Lab 305 guardians he had met, placed gingerly in the open palms of what seemed to be the oldest corpse.
But no briefcase. And no rusalka.
The ghost lights flickered and circled lazily around the corpses. When they reached their respective corpses, they burned brightly for a moment, then extinguished. Lorenzo felt Dina's grip on his hand become painfully tight.
"Hold on," he said, struggling to reach for his phone. But as he spoke, a soft glow started to light up the glade again, this time more evenly than before. A circle of smaller blue lights were hovering around them, flickering flames without candles.
"Is this you, Mister Fisch?" Dina asked carefully.
"No, these look like corpse candles."
"What are corpse candles?" Dina asked, her voice high and strained.
Lorenzo put on his Most Cheerful Businesslike Demeanor. "Funny you should ask that, because there are actually several definitions! One would be a, uh, candle that you'd use to watch over a corpse the night that it dies, a very common practice that's fallen off in recent years, and, uh, the other definition, the definition that would probably be most likely in this particular instance would be, uh, floating lights that appear in damp and abandoned places like this as, uh, a portent of, you know, death."
He could hear Dina's breathing getting quicker. And then he could hear water. Something was moving towards them.
Behind him, Dina squeezed her eyes shut and started to sing. She hiccuped from fright, but soon, the same reedy New Year's songs they had been singing through the marsh were echoing throughout the glade.
"Я вам пе́сенку спою́ про пять минут... Э́ту пе́сенку мою пуска́й пою́т..."
Lorenzo didn't join her right away. He was staring, entranced, as the rusalka emerged from the water and circled around Dina curiously. She looked from her to Lorenzo, and bared her teeth slightly, but as long as Dina was singing, she seemed to be mollified. Clutched close to her chest was the briefcase, held in her skinny white arms and tangled up in long locks of red hair.
"пять минут..." the rusalka whispered hesitantly.
Dina cracked open her eyes. "Пять минут, пять минут. Бой часо́в разда́стся вско́ре, Пять минут, пять минут, Помири́тесь те, кто в ссо́ре."
Lorenzo jumped in now. "Пять минут, пять минут. Разобра́ться е́сли стро́го, Да́же в э́ти пять минут Мо́жно сде́лать о́чень мно́го." He broke off from singing and waded over to the rusalka, extending his hand to her again.
"С Но́вым го́дом. С Но́вым сча́стьем," he offered, repeating the New Year's greeting Dina had taught him.
"С Но́вым сча́стьем." the rusalka repeated.
She swan to the edge of the glade and set down the briefcase, adjusting the cap on one of the corpses in the circle. She seemed distracted. "С Но́вым го́дом," she said to it, and fussed over the next one too. "С Но́вым го́дом." She went around the circle, adjusting each one in minute ways, then stopping at the one with the photograph in its lap, picking up the photograph and looking at it, then back up at the corpse. This one she leaned in and gently kissed. "С Но́вым го́дом," the rusalka whispered, then returned to Dina and Lorenzo with the photograph and the briefcase.
She looked at Lorenzo and put the briefcase in his hands and stood in front of him, telling him something in Russian.
"Open it," Dina murmured.
Lorenzo opened the briefcase and the bottle glowed. The rusalka disappeared and the corpse candles extinguished.
Far away, they could see the faint glow of lights in the distance and hear the crackling boom of fireworks. As they made their way back across the marsh, Dina grabbed onto Lorenzo's hand.
"Happy New Year, Mister Fisch."
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