by Janna Ruth
“What’s the intensity?” Wulf asks, bringing himself up to speed.
“4.2 Megajoules,” József answers before his brother has a chance to.
If it wasn’t for Wulf’s mumbled “Scheiße!” I wouldn’t know how bad that was. He shakes his head in frustration. “That’s at least eight nymphs.”
Even I know that that’s quite an impressive group of nymphs. Unless they have one of their rare group dances, there are usually no more than two or three nymphs in one spot, and humans usually only get to see one—if they can see them, that is.
It’s quite hard keeping up with these three men, who seem to have all but forgotten about me as they stride rapidly towards the bridge. I’m not the only one lagging behind, though. Rebeka and two of the other spirit seekers are also coming. Iván’s girlfriend is the trapper of the team while I’m just tagging along, I guess.
We arrive on Óbuda Island, which is of a similar size and shape as Margaret Island, but much closer to the Buda shoreline and much less travelled by tourists. A thin arm of the Danube flows between island and mainland, and it’s the shore of that arm we’re walking along.
Looking into the water, I don’t need to stick my hand into it to know that it would feel slick and oily. It looks like perfectly good water from one angle and horrifyingly muddy from the other. The shifting sight of it sets me on edge. It’s like I can see the pollution in the water, or worse, like all the pollution of the Danube waters has concentrated in this spot.
I’m just about to tell Wulf what I’ve seen when another sight distracts me. The water in front of us is rising, rising slowly but surely until it becomes one enormous bulge of dirty water, ready to burst at any minute. First, it looks like it’ll sweep away the small bridge that connects the island to Buda, but then the water turns around.
“Get back!” Wulf bellows. He’s seen it at the same time I did and has already drawn his staff.
His command is so forceful that even the Varga brothers take a step back. But then, József draws his staff, and Iván, not to be outdone by his brother, does the same. As for me? I take Wulf seriously and retreat as far back as I can while the water draws nearer, nearer, and then bursts into a massive tidal wave above our heads.
Wulf waits eerily patient as the giant wave crashes down on him. At the very last second, he lifts his staff and slices through the curtain of water. The water parts around the three men, flushing up the grass until it pools in front of my feet. In its wake, the nymphs become visible. Or rather, the nymph.
At first glance, she’s not very impressive looking. In fact, she looks smaller than the ones I’ve encountered before, less whole somehow. Neither size nor impression relates to her power, though. As Wulf has said, the energy surrounding her should have been made up by at least eight nymphs, and yet it’s just one. One single nymph that is strong enough to create a powerful wave against the river’s flow.
Just looking at her makes me shudder. Nymphs have two faces. I call them the relaxed and the angry face. A relaxed nymph is a beauty to behold, with a long, wavy body, hair cascading down their back like waterfalls, eyes as deep as the ocean. An angry one is the stuff of nightmares. Their face becomes fishier, not the harmless fish you’d find in freshwater lakes and rivers, though, but those creatures from the deep sea, with long, thin fangs and huge soulless eyes. The nymph in front of us shows a third face, one I’m entirely unfamiliar with. For lack of better words, she looks like a water corpse, all bloated and pale. Her skin looks spongy, and there’s a darkness inside of her that reminds me of an oil spill.
She snarls at the three men in her way, then splashes back into the water, causing a second wave to lap onto land. This time, Wulf is a tad too slow, and the water spills up to his knees. There must be a hideous current, because I see both József and Iván struggling to keep upright. József’s knees buckle, and he’s drawn towards the river. Swift as a snake, Wulf jumps forward, grabs József with one hand and brings down his staff with the other. The grip on József relaxes immediately, and he remains sitting, sputtering and huffing. For now, the water has returned to the river.
“We need to draw her out,” Wulf explains sharply. “Retreat!” He makes sure the brothers go first before following, all the while keeping his eyes on the river.
Iván’s head snaps around to the rest of us. He orders Rebeka, “Prepare that trap.”
“But it’s too powerful,” she complains. “It’s never gonna work.”
“Prepare that trap!” Iván snarls in a way that is entirely different from the goofy guy I met last night.
I feel sorry for Rebeka because it’s clear to everyone that the nymph is in no shape to be caught just now. She’s too strong for any of the traps. “Trust Wulf,” I find myself saying. I don’t even know why since I’ve never seen him fight until today, but that’s why we here, right? He’s the best of the best. “He’ll break her down in time.”
Rebeka glares at me and starts preparing the trap while muttering under her breath. How she can do any of the calculations Leon has shown me doing that, I have no idea.
Turning my attention back to the guys and the nymph, I notice that the water has calmed almost completely. “Did it flee?” I hear Iván ask.
Wulf doesn’t answer immediately, but then he looks back at me. “Rika, come here.”
My heart hammers up in my chest. Hopefully, he won’t ask me to fight that spirit. I’ve already dealt with the Erlking. Surely, I’ve earned a brief reprieve before facing yet another ancient spirit. Because that’s the only explanation I have at the moment. The only explanation that makes any sense.
I step next to Wulf, and he points towards the water. “What do you think?”
As hard as I try, I can’t see the nymph. I want to take a step forward, but Wulf’s hand wraps around my upper arm like a bench vice and holds me back. He obviously thinks it’s still dangerous. And rightfully so. I can’t see the wave, but I can feel it in my stomach. It’s like all the pollution of the Danube is pooling in front of me, hiding under the surface, yet somehow, I feel it seeping into my bones.
“You can feel it, right?” Wulf asks, sounding strained. He’s got his brows deeply furrowed, his eyes flitting back and forth over the surface.
I nod, wanting nothing more than to throw up. “It’s so wrong.”
He doesn’t really hear me, eyes rapidly scanning the river. Then they stop. “There.”
A second later, a fountain of water shoots four metres into the sky and twists around itself before taking aim straight at Wulf. Inside, I can see the snarling face of the nymph elongating.
I’m rooted to the spot, but Wulf jerks on my arm, pushing me behind him and meeting the water snake head-on with his staff. It hits the nymph right in the face. Water sprays everywhere, splashing into Iván and József and far behind us. I get off remarkably lightly since Wulf takes the full brunt of the hit, acting as a shield in front of me.
A terrible howl rises in the air as the nymph retreats into the water.
“Trap!” Wulf yells.
Before Rebeka can even react, Iván has snatched the tube from her hand and starts directing it at the nymph.
“It’s getting away,” József shouts, already striding along the riverbank, following the nymph’s path.
“It’s not working,” Iván complains. He throws the trap away in disgust and demands a new one from Rebeka. “Hurry up. I’ll do it!”
Wulf has joined József in keeping an eye on the nymph. Again and again, he stabs the water with his staff, trying to slow the nymph down. I bend down and pick up the trap Iván has thrown away. No wonder it hasn’t been working. It’s set on a regular nymph with maximum strength. But this nymph isn’t regular in any way.
I let the useless tube fall and snatch the one from Iván’s hands.
“Hey,” he shouts and makes a grab for it. He stops when he sees how fast my hands move around the rings.
The strength stays on maximum, but the type almost leads into gnome territory
for all the pollution she carries inside her. A few more adjustments, and I’m done. “Wulf!”
He looks around, and I throw the tube towards him. It falls short, but he makes one big step in my direction and catches it before it hits the ground. Then he turns back to the river and activates the trap.
I hold my breath. The nymph has almost reached the point where the arm flows back into the Danube under the Ápárd Bridge. She’s building up more momentum, and I can see another wave bulging. This time it will be directed against the busy bridge connecting Buda and Pest.
The wave is about to break when the nymph gets caught in a strong suction, drawing her back, centimetre by centimetre. The trap is working. Wulf’s muscles strain as he holds onto the tube. Despite the damage he has dealt to the nymph, she still gives him a hell of a fight. It’s only when József steps in and deals another blow to the nymph that she loses the fight, and just like that, the water splashes back into the Danube. I can hear an audible popping sound as the nymph is sucked into the tube.
Immediately, Wulf screws the cap shut as if afraid she might escape otherwise. Even from this distance, I can hear him huff in exhaustion. He’s not the only one who’s feeling relieved. József laughs and claps Wulf’s shoulder before outright crowing, “Amazing. Gosh, you’re good.”
Iván isn’t that enamoured with Wulf. He seems more grumpy than relieved, but he nods towards me. “Guess he didn’t just take you along for your language skills.”
I flush, knowing that Wulf would have never considered taking me along if I hadn’t practically begged him. It feels ridiculous to claim even a tiny part in his overwhelming victory because József is right; Wulf was pretty amazing. The way he stood against the nymph, completely unafraid, each movement so precise—for the first time, I’ve seen the legend they all hail. It’s mesmerising.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WULF’S VICTORY IS celebrated with a massive party. After weeks of feeling absolutely powerless against the strangely powerful nymph attacks, it’s like the spirit seekers can breathe again. Wine and spirits are being rolled out, and Iván orders a tremendous amount of takeaway food. There’ll be no one on kitchen duty tonight.
I sit in one of the alcoves by myself, watching Wulf and József in the opposite corner, behaving like the old friends they are. József seems to have blossomed now that the danger is under control. He’s laughing and joking without care, and to my bigger surprise, Wulf joins into the merriness, showing yet another side to him.
“Pálinka?” Iván holds a glass filled to the brim with a dark golden liquid to my face. The fruit spirit inside is so strong it almost burns away the hairs in my nose.
Part of me wants to turn him away, not keen to start drinking now, but the Hungarian part in me knows it would be impossible to refuse. Everyone else around me is already drinking. One drink won’t kill me. Or so I think until I take a sip of the home-made pálinka, and it burns away the better part of my throat.
I must’ve looked hilarious because Iván is close to wetting himself in laughter. “Oh, my, your face.” He gasps for air. “I’ll get you your soda.”
Leaving the bottle and glass on my table, he goes to return with a lemonade and a bigger glass. He pushes both towards me, then takes my shot glass and downs the rest of the pálinka before refilling it immediately. “Much better,” he says, while letting himself fall on the bench beside me.
“What’s much better?” I ask, while pouring myself a soda.
“Watching these two with some alcohol to wash it down.” Iván points the glass toward his brother and Wulf. Then he downs that one as well.
I shoot another glance at the two friends, feeling my gaze circling back and back again to the almost triangular dimples that appear on Wulf’s face each time he laughs. “You’re still bitter your brother asked for help?”
Iván’s snort tells me I landed exactly right. He leans forward, his eyes fixed on the two men. “We didn’t need help. I was working on a solution. But of course, my darling brother couldn’t wait to see me fail. So, he brought in the real seeker.” Apparently, bitter doesn’t even begin to cut it.
“I’m sorry he makes you feel that way, but at least the problem is solved now, right?” I can understand how hard it must be for him to be compared to someone like Wulf, to be basically shown up in front of his own team, but surely, saving people’s lives should count for something. After all, that’s what spirit seekers are all about.
Iván tears his eyes away from the two men to face me. “You know what? He would’ve failed if not for you.” He raises a third glass to me.
My immediate reaction is to avoid his gaze and study the grain of the table. “I hardly did anything.”
“Nonsense! You smashed the bearings on that trap. You must be some maths genius. I don’t even know how you did it.” He chucks down the pálinka.
His comment makes me laugh. “Quite the opposite. It’s all intuition for me.”
Iván tries to whistle, but there’s barely a tone coming out between his lips. “Intuition, huh? I’ve never really asked you, Rika. How high is your NAV?”
“That’s like asking a woman how old she is,” I answer, batting my eyelids. Truth is, I don’t really feel comfortable boasting about a five-hundred-plus NAV. They’d only ask me to fight more spirits. “What’s yours?”
Grinning, Iván replies, “389. Exactly six points above my brother’s.” That fact seems to bring him a lot of satisfaction. “He absolutely hates it.”
I find the whole rivalry a bit ridiculous. “Does it matter that much?”
“Yes. It’s all that matters. Those six points are all that stand between him and the commander position.” Iván leans closer to me. “He actually was the preliminary commander, but he basically took the position after learning that I’d be coming for him. Gosh, he hates having been bested by me.” His eyes flick back to his brother. “He always thought he was better than me. That I was just some child, but I beat him, and now he’s just the second fiddle to my first.”
Woah, that’s some serious sibling rivalry. One thing bothers me, though. “How does the SSA pick their commanders? Wouldn’t they go with a more experienced one? No offence. It’s just weird that they already knew they would replace József when assigning him.”
Iván turns back to me. “Oh, well. Of course, they could’ve sent me somewhere else, but they decided not to. It’s solely based on NAV. If you get a high one, you shadow the old commander for a year, and then you take over. Surely they told you that.”
My gaze falls on Wulf again. “No, they didn’t. So just the NAV. And the error margins?”
“What error margins?”
“Plus-minus whatever.” I don’t claim to understand them, but what did Wulf say? “If they overlap, you couldn’t know which one is higher.”
Iván scrunches up his nose as if I’ve personally offended him. “Who cares about the error margins? You get a value, and that’s it. Are you saying my brother is actually the one with the higher NAV?”
“No!” I’ve got Wulf fixed in my stare. “It’s just something someone told me once.”
“Well, it’s utter bullshit.” He pours himself yet another glass. “So, what is your NAV?”
Suddenly, there’s another reason I can’t tell him the truth. Wulf and I are supposed to be a team. If they know we’re not, I’ll run the risk they’ll suss me out to the SSA. Because apparently, with my NAV, I should be the one leading the Berlin team.
“It’s 412.” There’s no denying I can see spirits after my show on the island now.
Despite my efforts, Iván sputters, then slams the glass on the table, startling me and everyone else. Wulf looks over to check on me, drawing his brows together in question. I glare at him. He’s lied to me. Or rather, he’s gaslighted me, telling me all that nonsense about how I theoretically could have scored below him when I obviously haven’t. Fourteen points. That’s more than double the difference between the Varga brothers.
“... thinki
ng?” I hear Iván mutter angrily.
“What?”
He almost snarls at me. “I asked what the SSA was thinking when they put you in his team? Is Berlin that bad? Are people dying en masse there?”
I’m afraid I can’t really follow him. “No, I like Berlin. I mean ... sure, people die each day, but not from spirit attacks.”
“Yeah, well, then I don’t understand why Germany should get two seekers above four hundred. And one that’s from Hungary as well.” He chucks down the little bit he hasn’t spilt on the table. “I’ve got to pee.”
As I watch him stride off, I curse myself for not picking a value closer to three hundred. Of course, the SSA would never place two high-end spirit seekers at the same location. Not if there are so few among them.
It doesn’t take long before the seat next to me is filled again. Only this time, it’s Wulf who slides onto the bench. “You’re okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” There’s a turmoil of feelings under my skin, on top of all confusion.
He lowers his voice a little. “Iván looked a bit intense from over there. Did he say anything, or...?”
“No.” He actually said a lot of things, but I’m not in the mood to share them with Wulf. “He just got a little drunk. It was a big victory after all.”
“About that.” Wulf smiles at me. “That was some outstanding work in the field today. I didn’t know you were such a talent with the traps.”
It pains me to hear his compliment. Not that I don’t think it’s genuine, but it has so many implications. That I’m like them. That I’m somehow talented when it comes to fighting the spirits. That I could possibly become a valuable part of their team, and thus, society. All of that makes me shiver. I don’t want to be known for being someone so in tune with spirits that they can bypass all the complicated mathematics and just intuitively sense their way through the trapping. If I ever become a spirit seeker, then it’ll be because I understand them like no one else does and mitigate the dangers they bear by talking to them, befriending them, and respecting them as much as I’d respect any fellow human.