Vodník

  “He’ll blame me. I’ll deal with the consequences. Do it.”

  Lesana nodded. “Fine.” She reached past me and hovered over the fountain. Her right arm changed to liquid and poured down the spout. She bit her lip in concentration and closed her eyes. After a moment, there came an audible click, and she stepped away. The earth began to rumble.

  Ajax was growling.

  “It is done,” Lesana said. “But hurry with whatever you must do.”

  With the cover off, water was bubbling up from the ground and over the edges of the hole. The vibrations from Ajax’s growl rumbled like an earthquake, causing my teeth to chatter and the spring itself to visibly move. If he was growling already, what would he do when I drank it—doing exactly what his master had told me not to?

  First things first. I got the vial out and filled it. Inside the vial, the water glowed subtly, giving the glass a slight purple tint. When it was safely zipped in my bag, I looked from the spring to the vodník’s bite. Which would be better? To become a water spirit later or get squished right now? If I didn’t drink, I might pass out, and then who knew how long I’d be out of commission. Maybe I’d sleep right through Katka’s death date. But if I got squished . . .

  Enough thinking. My hand cupped some water and brought it to my mouth.

  I drank.

  Two things happened at the same time, neither of them good. The dizziness in my head came back with a vengeance. Even crouching as I was, I couldn’t keep my balance and fell to the floor. At first, I thought my ears were ringing too. Then I realized it was Ajax howling. For a beast that big, his voice could get up there pretty high.

  “What’s wrong?” Lesana shouted above the noise. “What did you do?”

  I shook my head and tried to stand up. “Nothing.” On the second try, I managed to get to my feet.

  The howling stopped, and so did the fountain. All noise stopped except a small burble from the spring, making it easy to hear the vodník ask in a soft voice, “What did you do?”

  I turned unsteadily. The vodník stood there, running his hands through his hair and looking as crazed and close to losing control as you could imagine: eyes bugged out, licking his lips uncontrollably, nose twitching. It was all I could do not to topple right there. “Just getting the water from the spring,” I said. “All done now.”

  He laughed. “All done. That’s great. Wonderful. I’m sure that’s supposed to make me relieved and happy for you. But you didn’t just get the water, did you? That’s all you were supposed to get. That’s all you told me you wanted, and that’s all you needed. I didn’t want you to see it. That would have cheapened it. Made it less useful. But you didn’t stop there. Greedy little—you had to go and drink it. Right from the source. Right from the source! Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve ruined it. Ruined it for everyone but you.”

  “Ruined what?” Lesana asked.

  “Don’t talk to me!” the vodník shouted, waggling his finger at her. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you, and this is how you repay me. How could you do that? How many times did I tell you not to drink the water?”

  “Never,” she said.

  He grunted. “Well, I should have. I should have told you a thousand times. I told him not to.”

  “Wait a minute,” I snapped, then held up my bandaged arm. “You’re the one who bit me. You said it wouldn’t do anything. You lied. It’ll make me like Lesana. Drinking that spring water was all I could do.”

  “Ha,” the vodník said. “Who told you that? I have control over what happens with my bites. It would have been painful, maybe made you dizzy, maybe seeped some water, but I wasn’t going to make it complete. I’ve learned since Lesana. But now . . . with you doing this . . . I never should have been so wishy-washy about this. You were trouble from the beginning. I could see that. I went back and forth between deciding to help you or just kill you. To kill or not to kill. Decisions decisions. I thought in the end you’d be worth it for Lesana. Well, she can wait another century until another one like you comes along. Someone else who can affect both planes. And when that happens, maybe I’ll save your soul too.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “It’s too late for that spring drinking to save you,” he said. “Not if I let the effects happen all at once. And on second thought . . .” He trailed off, then melted into the floor. As soon as he did so, my ears picked up a distant creak, then rushing water.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  No one answered. Lesana had disappeared. Ajax was staring down at me, and the floor started shaking again with his growls. At the same time, a heavy flow of water whooshed into the chamber. The sound I’d heard must have been the vodník letting all of the water in the rest of the complex back into the room.

  I tried to move toward the exit, but the flow of water was too fast. As soon as I moved, Ajax darted his head down to snap his teeth right in front of my face. It was like having sharpened elevator doors guillotine together so close you could feel the wind. I screamed and fell back, and then another sound came over the rushing water, sort of a mix between coughing and snorting. Ajax seemed to be laughing.

  The water was up to my waist, my head was spinning so fast it felt like it was going to fall off, and Ajax was toying with me. Oh—and Lesana had said not to move if he became violent. So much else was happening that I completely forgot to panic at the sight of all that water coming at me. I was too busy not getting swept off my feet.

  Every instinct I had screamed for me to rush to the exit as fast as I could. I had to ignore them. Ajax was staring down, looming over me, and waiting for me to make a move. The water got higher and higher. My chest. My neck.

  My mouth.

  I breathed it in. It had worked before; it would work now. And it did, still uncomfortable, but not deadly.

  Ajax, meanwhile, began to whine. He blinked and sniffed, then put his head down close to me and bumped me squarely in the chest.

  I floated backward, shooting through the water like a jet ski. My body collided with the wall, and fireworks went off in my eyeballs. Everything went black, and I worried that was the end. Then my vision cleared, and I saw Ajax floating in front of me. He must have lost track of me somewhere between playing human pinball and the water coming in. His head scanned from side to side as he searched for where I had gone. I checked my bag, which was still securely strapped to my shoulders. There was no way I was coming down here and going through all this and then losing that vial.

  What followed was an experience I can only describe as life-or-death Red Light Green Light—that game we used to play in elementary school. Whenever “It” isn’t looking, it’s Green Light, and you can move. When It says “red light,” you darn well better be frozen still, or you’re out. Eaten, in this case. When Ajax turned his head for a moment, I would paddle with just my hands, trying to make it out of the chamber.

  Three more times, I collided with some part of him: his tail, a flipper, part of his body. Each time, it took longer to recover from the blow. If I hadn’t been in water, I’m sure I wouldn’t have. Thank goodness Ajax didn’t have a brain much bigger than a cocker spaniel’s.

  It took forever, and it was made even harder by not being able to see straight with my head spinning so much, but I made it to the exit of the chamber and down the hall to where it turned, leaving Ajax out of sight, whining and confused. In the water, the whine rippled out from him like a screechy whale.

  The torches were still burning even in the water. I paused to inspect the vial. It was still intact. I shook my head, trying to clear it, and did my best to get to the exit.

  I never learned how to swim, but when you can breathe water, moving through a tunnel full of it is kind of like walking on the moon. Low gravity, slow movement. Even a dizzy kid can do it.

  The door to the well was open, and I emerged from the tunnel and used the wall to climb and float my way to the surface. Where was the vodník? Why hadn’t he come back to take my
soul?

  “Tomas?” I heard a voice echo down when I surfaced about ten feet down from the top. Katka. “Is that you?”

  I coughed out the water in my lungs and shouted back. “Get a bucket. Quick!”

  The vodník spoke next to my ear. “Do you really think I’m going to let you get away?”

  I shouted in surprise and whirled to see him sitting on top of the water, staring at me. “Leave me alone,” I said.

  “What?” Katka shouted.

  “Nothing,” I called back. “The bucket! Now!”

  “You just had to drink the water,” the vodník said. “Three hundred years, I’ve been saving that spring. Keeping it hidden. Keeping it safe for when it would come in handy. And one thirsty idiot of a teen was all it took. Imbecile.” His voice was low and patronizing.

  “I had to,” I managed to say. The dizziness was increasing, and my vision was going black around the edges. If I could just hold on until the bucket came.

  “You should have asked,” he said. “I would have helped you.”

  “No—you want to kill me. You tried to. Can’t trust.” My mind was shutting down.

  “It’s too late for you, you know,” he said. “Katka will die, and if I don’t take your soul now, you’ll be a water spirit.” He took out a teacup and set it on the water’s surface next to him, right in front of my face. “If I take you, though, I might still be able to save them. Lesana and your cousin.”

  The bucket splashed down to my right, just missing my arm. I dug around in my bag for the vial and put it in. “Pull it up,” I called, just the act of shouting taking most of my energy. “Vial.” The bucket started rising.

  “And what’s she going to do with that?” the vodník said. “You’re the enchanter. She can’t use it to free Lesana. With your soul in my collection, I’d be able to use your power in your stead.”

  “No,” I said. “You lie.” My arms and legs were tiring. It felt like something underneath the water was sucking me down.

  “You know,” the vodník said, “I don’t think you’re mentally with it enough right now to make a rational choice. I’d better decide for you. You’ll thank me later.”

  I glanced from him to the cup. This wasn’t fair. If Morena knew I was going to die or worse trying to save my cousin, she shouldn’t have let me make the deal. I was still in the act of deciding when my strength totally gave way. Whatever was sucking me under took control, and all I saw was blackness.

  Contrary to popular belief, zombies don’t like brains. They’re all about pinkie toes and gall bladders, with the occasional tonsil or appendix to spice things up a bit. Basically, zombies like non-essential body parts. Thus, when you encounter a zombie apocalypse, it’s a good idea to already have all those things removed. And honestly, what are you still doing with both your pinkie toes, anyway?

  I woke up surprised. Surprised I was waking up at all, for one thing, and even more surprised I couldn’t move or see.

  It wasn’t paralysis; there just wasn’t room to move much. When I tried to sit up, I conked my head.

  Where was I? I remembered buying salt with Katka. Lots of salt. Why? And I had been worried about her, that she’d get another seizure. And I’d had that vodník bite . . . This couldn’t be a coffin. No way. I was starting to hyperventilate, so I focused on slowing down. In. Out. In. Out.

  It didn’t matter how I’d gotten here. It mattered how I got out.

  I felt around me with my hands and feet. I was in a box with cold smooth sides, like metal or porcelain. That was good. Coffins weren’t made of metal. In fact, the whole place was pretty chilly, considering it was the middle of summer in a country with no air-conditioning. Was I in the cold room at the castle? Or the well?

  The thought brought to mind the memory of panic, with water all around and something sucking me down . . .

  The well. It all came back: the vodník, the virgin spring, Lesana. Everything. Wasn’t I supposed to be a water spirit now? Or stuck in a teacup?

  A teacup.

  I scrabbled around, unable to keep the fear back. I hit at the box with my elbows, kicked with my legs—anything I could do to try and get out—until I was breathless and bruised and still just as trapped. But when I calmed down again, I noticed something else.

  I had no clothes on.

  How had I missed that? And now that I paid attention to my body, I felt something on my toe. Some sort of tag.

  Wait a minute. I was naked in a cold dark box, right after an experience that almost killed me. Someone had put a toe tag on me.

  I wasn’t in a teacup.

  I was in a morgue. Or a mortuary. Or whatever you called those places where they put dead people before they got buried.

  Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out.

  This wasn’t so bad. I wasn’t buried yet. I was still breathing, which meant oxygen was getting in. Someone would come eventually. Until then, I’d just lie here and relax. Think things through. Maybe take a nap.

  In a morgue.

  I screamed and kicked off from the end of the box, trying to get enough momentum to bash open the door. In the movies, they always had the bodies in with the head closest to the door, right? Instead of opening the door, though, I slammed my head into the door end of the box and blacked out.

  When I came to, my head was killing me. I edged myself down on the rolling slab and pushed off from the end again, gently. This time, instead of my head hitting the door, the slab did. Much better. I rolled back down, and pushed off hard.

  Clang.

  It didn’t open. I tried harder.

  Clang, kthunk.

  The door had opened a little, then slammed shut. These things weren’t designed to let the occupants out. At least now I knew I had the right end.

  Clang, kthunk.

  Clang, kthunk.

  Clang . . . kthunk.

  For a moment, a crack of light had come into the box. The biggest problem I was having was that the slab rebounded away from the door after I rammed it. I couldn’t get enough momentum to shoot out of the door all at once. If I could get a hand up to catch at the door, I might have a shot.

  I manipulated my arms into a position where I could use my hands more. It was tight in there, but with some contortion, I managed it. My fingers touched the door, and I started to push.

  With a snap, the door opened and the rolling platform I was on shot out into the light.

  I gasped in relief and stretched my arms, swinging them around me before I got off the slab and jumped around in joy. Add fear of closed places to my list of phobias. From then on, no more elevators.

  The first thing I did was check my toe tag for a date. If I’d been out for more than a—

  13/8. August thirteenth. I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d only lost five days. Much better than the weeks or months I had worried about. Still a week and a half to save Katka. For once, something had gone right. Sure, I’d have to explain something to my parents, but it wasn’t like I had a ton of time to account for.

  Actually, maybe I wouldn’t have to explain anything at all. They must have thought I was dead—they’d just be ecstatic to find out I was alive. Right?

  Time to look around. I was in a green tiled room, old and worn, with some of the tiles missing and others cracked, but it was clean. It had a couple of metal tables in the middle of the room, and one rolled up against a wall. When I walked over to it, I saw some shoes tucked in behind it. I stopped and frowned, then took a few steps closer.

  Someone was wearing those shoes.

  Slowly, shakily, a pair of hands rose above the table. Each raised a forefinger, and they came together in the sign of the cross.

  Oh.

  “Wait,” I said, or at least tried to. My vocal cords were still rough from lack of use, and what came out was more like, “Waaargh!”

  The hands shot below the table.

  I cleared my throat and tried again. “Wait. I’m not . . . that.” I stepped forward to peer down into a man’s paper-white fa
ce. I thought about trying to explain myself, but decided against it. “Could I have your jacket?” I said instead.

  He edged out of the white lab coat he was wearing. I took it from him and put it on. It came down to my thighs, but it was better than naked. “Thanks,” I said, then checked around again. “Which way is out?”

  His finger shook as it unsteadily pointed to a door.

  Call me sick, call me twisted, but I think I was justified in what I did next. It was more from sheer joy of being alive than anything else. The guy was such a scaredy-cat, and I’d never—ever—have a chance like this again. I put on my best crazy expression and put out my hands, staggering toward him. “Braaaaaains,” I said.

  He fainted. I couldn’t blame him. A Roma zombie would freak out just about anybody in Slovakia.

  I left the room and worked on finding my way out. All the lights were off, and the place was empty. I checked a clock: one a.m. My footsteps echoed down the tiled corridors. After three wrong turns, I emerged into a windy night, just me in my tiny lab coat. If I didn’t get arrested for indecent exposure on the way home, it would be a miracle.

  Luckily, Trenčín was pretty dead. Even the cars that passed ignored me. I tried to sneak around, cutting across roads, jumping fences—anything to get there without being seen in this embarrassing outfit.

  The road was rough under my feet, with stones and cracks jabbing up into my soft skin. The wind tore at my lab coat, almost ripping it off twice. And then I was standing outside my apartment block. No keys. Katka’s window was just a third of a block down from mine. I jumped up to rap on it.

  After my third tap, I was beginning to lose hope. Her window was right by her bed, and she should have answered after the first or second. Just before I was going to break down and try my parents’ window, she parted the drapes and peered out.

  Even with only the light from the street, even far away from her as I was, even without hearing her speak, I knew something was wrong. She seemed to have shrunk since the last time I’d seen her. She saw me and gasped. “Tomas?”