by Janna Ruth
She bends the knuckles of her spindly fingers. “Szirom. What do you want?”
“We need your help,” I repeat. “There are spirits along the Danube that feel wrong. Unnatural.” I hope I’m not offending them.
“The nymphs,” Szirom says.
I nod. “And the salamander.”
“Yes, they were like the nymphs.”
“So, it’s mostly nymphs who are affected?” I ask. Talking to dryads can be quite straining. They are so sedentary that they rarely understand the need for action. But they see a lot, and they know even more, using their fungal networks.
Szirom sways in the wind, rustling her leaves. “Affected? You think something made them the way they are?”
“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “I’ve just never felt any spirit like that. They are dangerous.”
“So you want to catch them.” The statement is full of accusation.
I shake my head quickly. “Not if we don’t have to. I’d prefer to talk to them, understand what has been done to them. There might be a way to help them.” I haven’t thought about it yet, but if pollution is why these nymphs are so aggressive, then it is something we humans might be able to fix. Surely, that would be more effective in the long run than battling them each time they decide to attack the city. “Do you know where they live?” Like the dryads, nymphs are impossible to find if they decide to sink into the water.
Szirom turns around to check with the other dryads. If they talk to each other, they do it secretly. At last, she says, “They’re not from here.”
“What does that mean?”
“They don’t belong here,” Szirom explains. “So we don’t know anything about them.”
It’s a lie. I can feel that much, but I know what it means. They don’t trust me—or us—enough to tell us more. “They’re new to the area?” I want to confirm at least this little tidbit since it’s essential. Of all the different spirits, sylphs and nymphs are the most likely to travel, but it’s not done a lot. Salamanders certainly don’t travel long distances.
Szirom nods, her sap-like eyes boring into me as if she’s trying to tell me more than she does. “That’s right. They don’t belong here.”
There are at least two possibilities here. The foreign spirits could have moved here from an area unbeknownst to humankind, at least in regard to its spirit population. In that case, the spirits here are just as wary of immigrants as most humans. Or the term ‘belonging’ goes deeper, and these unknown spirits are upsetting the balance of an already fragile ecosystem.
Iván and I return to the base as the dryads are unwilling to tell us anything more. At the trapdoor, he shrugs. “It was a good try.” What he really means to say is, that was a waste of time.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I’VE NEVER REALLY attempted proper research, but walking the streets won’t help me figure out this problem. The spirits who have attacked Budapest are different from any I’ve seen. They could be spirits from a place I don’t know, but that doesn’t explain why they feel so wrong to me. I pride myself in knowing what spirits are and what they want, and I couldn’t read the nymph or the salamander at all. I couldn’t tell what made the salamander so nymph-like apart from their water affinity, but the nymph looked polluted to me.
So, I’m sitting in that stupid underground base with the daylight lamps on, hunched over a map of the greater Budapest region, looking for possible sites of pollution, such as factories or boat renting places that might flush their oils into the Danube. Reading in Hungarian makes my brain hurt. I must have learnt it when we still lived here, but I’ve forgotten most of it, and though I know the words when spoken, I can’t always decipher them in writing. With Hungarian being such an isolated language, none of my other languages can help me.
“What are you doing there?” The last person I want to see has crept up on me. Wulf comes to a stand behind me and peers over my shoulder.
What does he care? I thought he wasn’t speaking to me. “Working.”
“You don’t have a job,” he says flatly.
Asshole! “Way to rub it in.”
I can hear him taking a deep breath. “Are you gonna tell me?”
“Do I have to?” I swear if he’s pulling the commander-card again, I’m gonna throw the map at him.
Instead of going away, Wulf takes a seat. “What are those circles?” He points to my scribbles on the map.
I glare at him, but apparently, he’s here to stay. “Places I want to check out.”
“You should get provisions then,” he says in that same unaffected tone. “Some of those will take you a good day’s walk.”
Now, I’m glaring at the map. How can all of this be so far away if it fits right on this map?
He shrugs casually. “You could use a car, of course, but I’m gonna guess you don’t have a license or the money to rent one.”
I fold my arms under my chest and turn to face him. “Do you want to make some digs at me for not being able to read a map or ridicule my lack of a fitting bikini while you’re at it? I’m sure you can find some more things you don’t like about me.” Seriously, he’s never been this offensive before.
Wulf sighs. “The only thing I don’t like about you is how stubborn you are in terms of spirits and how blindly you trust them.”
So that’s the only thing, huh? “What do you want from me?”
“You said I would need you.” He points at my circles again. “Looks to me like you need me, or in other terms, that we have to work together if we want to get to the bottom of this.”
“How do you know it’s about the spirits and not places I remember from my time in Budapest?” I could look for my mum this way, after all.
With a snort, he explains, “Half of those are way outside of Budapest, so I doubt you remember those from your childhood.” A sheepish grin fights its way across his face. “Besides, my internet search for potential polluters in the area came up with most of these spots and some you missed.”
“You know you could have led with that instead of being an asshole about it?” I ask him while folding the map.
He shrugs. “Sorry. It’s not like I want to work with you,” he says, not even attempting to mince his words. “But you were right. I need you and your attunement. Iván had the right idea. We need to use all tools available.”
His words don’t really endear him to me, so I reply with enough acid to spare, “Then I hope I’ll be a useful tool to you.”
Right now, Wulf is proving a bit more useful than me, because yes, he can drive a car and read maps. It’s the most awkward car drive, though. He’s concentrating on the road, and I never take my eyes off the landscape to my right. Gentle hills make up most of the area around Budapest. As everywhere, there’s barely a stretch of them that’s not covered by houses or fields. Humanity has made its mark everywhere, but in the most inaccessible areas.
Every time we pull up at one of the spots, Wulf tests the water in addition to looking for obvious signs. I also hold my hand into the water, remembering the sliminess I felt when we first fought the nymph. So far, we’ve been unlucky. The water doesn’t look anything different from what it should be. Which in itself is a good thing.
After a while, Aeola joins us. She had to catch up with the car, so is a bit late for the party. Naturally, Wulf’s face darkens. “Seriously?”
“You’ve got a problem?” I’m done with catering to him. As if there weren’t tangible tension between the two of them, I introduce them to each other. “Aeola, this is the Wulf Bachmann, the legendary spirit seeker. Wulf, this is Aeola, daughter of the Erlking.”
He’s gritting his teeth ever since I said legendary. “What is she doing here?”
“She is helping,” I say innocently. “You know we need to use all the tools available.”
You wouldn’t believe how hard someone could bite down on his own teeth. If his tongue would have been in the way, it would no longer be attached. With a grunt, Wulf turns away and returns to the
car. Once there, he hollers, “Are you coming?”
“Aeola and I will walk a little downriver, see if we can find some spirits here,” I say, making my voice sound insufferably cheery.
If aggravating Wulf is my plan, it’s working a treat. He slams the door shut again and locks the car. Then he stares daggers at both of us and trails us with several metres to spare, which is perfectly fine with me.
“Why are you still working with him?” Aeola asks.
“Lack of choices,” I answer truthfully. “He’s the only one with spare time available.” I would’ve much rather done this with Iván, not because I’m into him, but because he’s responded positively to my abilities. Unfortunately, when I asked him this morning, he apologised and said he was busy, but encouraged me to do it, anyway.
Aeola flows backwards, so she can keep an eye on Wulf. “He wanted to hurt me.”
“I haven’t forgotten that, but he won’t get another try. Not when I’m around,” I promise, glancing at the staff he’s carrying everywhere.
With a smile, she turns back to me. “You protected me back then.”
“And I’ll do it again and again.”
The Danube flows steadily next to us. There is so much traffic on the river, I wonder how anything could be alive in there, much less a spirit. All that combustion waste from the ships would be enough to turn off any living creature. But that kind of pollution has been going on for decades if not centuries, and it’s never produced overpowered spirits before.
We get out of the industrial area and into a more natural environment with trees by the river and long grass on the shoreline. Some water from the Danube pools in a little inlet before being swept back into the river. It is there we see our first proper nymphs.
Two of them sit on the shore, their long legs splashing in the water as they chat with each other. When they see me approaching, they both jump headfirst into the water and vanish beneath the waves.
Nevertheless, I kneel at the same spot they were sitting, waving off Wulf with his stupid staff in case it’s him they fled from. “Don’t be afraid,” I tell the water. “I just want to talk.”
The water stays still.
Wulf doesn’t say a word either. He’s leaning against a tree nearby, watching me with open mockery on his face. I realise I need to come up with results now.
I take off my shoes and roll up my pants to my knees. “Hold me, just in case,” I whisper to Aeola, who immediately slings part of her body around my arm as she’s done back at the Central Station.
“Be careful,” she says back. Meanwhile, Wulf has lost his pseudo-relaxed stance and looks ready to jump into action at any given moment.
Weirdly enough, knowing he’s getting ready to save me is the push I need to get over any second guesses and brave the water. Nothing spectacular happens at first. I wade deeper into the river water until my rolled-up pants brush the surface. My fingers fin through the water as I call out to the nymphs. “I just want to ask you a question. I’m…”
Something slimy, like a water plant, wraps itself around my ankle. I want to step back, but by then, the grip is inhumanely strong, and the ground is sucked away from me.
I can’t help but let out a yelp. Aeola pulls against the nymphs, threatening to rip my arm out of its socket. Then Wulf is there, slinging one arm around my waist while stabbing downwards with his staff. In a fit of suicidal stupidity, I lunge forward to grab the staff before it can penetrate the surface.
“Rika!” he shouts, more than annoyed, but I keep hold of the staff until my knuckles turn white.
All this back and forth between the nymphs, Aeola, and Wulf has destabilised us so much that Wulf and I crash backwards into the riverbank when the nymphs suddenly let go. He half lands on my back, his arm still around my waist. In an instant, Wulf is up again, trying to stab the nymphs once more, but he’s forgotten that I’m still holding onto his staff for dear life. He slips and crashes into the water once more. The impact drives a sharp pain through my hand, and I let go of the weapon with another yelp.
Alarmed, he looks back at me. “What is it?”
“You!” I shout, surprised at my own anger. “It’s you.”
Cradling my hand, I sit up in the water, which has completely soaked every piece of fabric I’m wearing. My eyes scan the river for any sign of the nymphs. Nothing.
“They’re gone. You spooked them,” I tell him, feeling all of yesterday’s frustration well up again.
Wulf stares at me, looking absolutely horrified. “I spooked them? They were dragging you underwater!”
I know he’s right, and yet, those nymphs were our best chance. “Well, now they’re gone, and they won’t be back.”
My words leave him utterly speechless. He kicks the water and then stomps out of it, leaving a trail of wetness behind him. Just perfect.
I pull myself backwards until I can sit on the grass. When I try to support myself with my right wrist, pain shoots through the joint. Great, now I’m wet and injured.
“Are you all right?” Aeola asks and blows her warm wind over my face and through my hair.
“I think I twisted my wrist.” I look out on the water, hoping that I’m wrong, and the nymphs decide to return. No such luck. “Let’s go.”
Wet clothes are the worst. If it weren’t for Aeola, I’d be freezing by now. As it is, each step feels like I’m walking through mud. The fabric sticks to my skin, stretching whenever I move while Aeola tries to blow me dry.
In front of me, Wulf is still stomping, hitting the ground with his staff at every step. I feel bad for him. He only wanted to help me, and instead of thanking him, I blamed him. With an enormous sigh, I resolve myself to make it up to him and hurry after him.
“What now?” he barks long before I’ve reached him.
I close the distance between us. “I’m sorry. I totally overreacted there.”
“Oh, did you?” It’s not as sharp as it could be. Apparently, my apology has thrown him a little. “What you did was dangerous.”
“I needed them to trust me,” I try to explain. “Stepping into their territory gives them the advantage, which makes spirits more likely to be open for talk.”
Wulf snorts. “Brilliant plan. And it worked splendidly.” He wrings out the hem of his shirt, taking a moment to calm himself. “You could’ve at least warned me before jumping into the water.”
“Sorry.”
“Whatever.” He gives up on his clothes. “I didn’t bring any spare clothes.”
Well, if that’s his biggest problem right now, I’m out of the woods. “Maybe if you ask Aeola nicely, she could give you the blow dryer treatment.” I’m already half-dry as it is.
Wulf stares at me as if I asked him to strip. Then his brows soften a little, and he snorts, irritated. “Are you for real?”
“It works for me.”
He stops and turns to look at Aeola, clearly weighing his options. I can’t help but smirk at him while he tries to build up his courage to ask a spirit for help. In the process, I spot something else. The river behind him is bulging.
I grab his arm and throw myself to the ground. He stumbles on top of me, and not a second later, a huge wave washes over us, destroying all of Aeola’s progress. The water washes the soil away from under us, creating a drag on our bodies. I take a panicked breath and raise my head to get a better look.
It’s another one of those polluted nymphs. Greedily, he reaches out for us, and a second wave comes crashing down on us before either of us has a chance to process the attack. I brace myself for the water when Aeola swoops in and blocks the water like a giant umbrella made of air.
Wulf gets up to his knees and takes a moment to assess the situation, glancing back and forth between the ghastly nymph, Aeola, and the water clawing at the surrounding land. Then he makes a decision.
“Protect solely Rika, not me, when I tell you,” he says to Aeola as he pulls himself up to stand.
That doesn’t sound good. “What are you doing?�
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He doesn’t answer me, just grabs his staff tighter, eyes fixed on the nymph. When the nymph opens his mouth, exposing no less than three rows of long sharp teeth, I’m all for letting Wulf have a go first.
With an unearthly scream, the nymph rolls a third wave onto the shore, this time one twice as high as Wulf. Aeola struggles against the onslaught, and I fear for her, but then Wulf jumps forward. “To Rika, now!”
Aeola springs back, enveloping me in a tight bubble of air and leaving Wulf to carry the brunt of the attack. His ancient staff only has to pass through a thin layer of water before connecting to the throat of the nymph. Wulf’s arms shake under the impact. Then, the nymph retreats with another howl, abandoning control over the water. I catch a glimpse of blue sky before the mass of the wave crashes down on us.
Wulf is knocked to the ground. I squeeze my eyes shut as if that helps anything. The pressure is immense for a few moments, then it weakens, and the water drains back into the Danube. I haven’t even missed a single breath, thanks to Aeola.
As soon as the water retreats, I sit up on my bum, looking for that vicious nymph. If Wulf had a trap with him, it has been washed away. Fortunately, the nymph leaves us alone for now, and we can only hope we weakened him enough to no longer pose a danger to unsuspecting walkers.
“Wulf?”
He is moaning softly into the ground. With difficulty, he rolls himself onto his back. “Fucking nymphs.”
For some reason, I start laughing. Nothing about this is in any way amusing. All three of us are aching, completely soaked, and exhausted. Yet I can’t stop laughing.
After a while, Wulf joins me, though the pain makes him wince throughout it. He’s moaning and wheezing and laughing all at once.
“You know, you could’ve at least warned me before pulling such a stunt.” Am I impressed by his mindless self-sacrifice? Yes. Was it scary? Hell, yes.