The green eyes flickered from face to face, then to the small book on Jakub’s lap. Then she took on more detail: slim cheekbones and a pointed chin. A mouth that seemed to move slower than the rest of her, slow to speak, slow to form the human words.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
For a second time, it struck him: she sounded shy.
He wondered if her shyness was the natural inclination of an animal, or whether it could—just maybe it could—be more. He wondered if she knew that she had him. He wondered if she knew he was already wrapped around those long, inhuman fingers.
He wondered how long he could lie to her.
Lukasz lowered the rifle.
“Reading,” said Jakub. “Would you like to join us?”
There was a scuttle overhead and chattering sounds in the trees beyond. Ren froze, eyes suddenly luminescent and feline. Lukasz’s hand closed on the rifle.
“What was that?” he asked.
The trees seemed to shift closer together. The blue-gray mist gathered overhead in their branches and trickled down to form a carpet on the forest floor. Between the knee-high fog and the moment of utter silence, it was like they’d been immersed in a nightmarish cloud.
At last, Jakub broke the silence.
“Strzygi,” he breathed.
Lukasz glanced around, a chill stealing over his soul.
“Close?” he asked.
No one replied. They held their breath, each one primed. Lukasz could think only of those beaky faces, of the eyes that had once belonged to children, to women, to men. Of the three bodies in three lonely graves. Three shovels, coming down hard.
There was another rustle, and the night cleared.
“They’re gone,” murmured Ren.
They were quiet for a time. Then Ren whispered in a very soft voice: “Felka told me that when someone disappears in the forest, the villagers blame me.”
“Not all the villagers,” said Jakub.
Ren smiled, wreathed in mist and woodsy darkness. Lukasz had only ever seen a vila once in his life, and in that moment, she looked very much like one. Then she crept closer and settled on the ground. Lukasz noticed that she chose Jakub’s side instead of his. Once again, he felt that irrational stab of jealousy.
“What are they?” she asked. “The strzygi?”
“Lesser demons,” said Jakub. “From the same family as upiórs. Bloodsuckers. Equivalents exist in other countries, I understand. Simply put, they are amalgamations of greed. Creatures created by the consumption of others. In being consumed, the dead find rebirth.”
Thinking of another monster, Lukasz asked, “Could—could a living person become a strzygoń? If they were attacked—but not killed?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I’m not sure anyone knows. But we do know that not everyone killed by a strzygoń is destined for the same fate. In fact, statistically speaking, the majority of victims stay dead.”
Lukasz fought the urge to rub at his shoulder.
Jakub paused for a moment, and when he continued, it was as if in a rapture. Thinking of Damian Biele?, Lukasz reflected that Jakub would have made a better professor.
“Some believe that strzygi rise from a duality of souls,” said the Unnaturalist. “In this belief, most humans have one soul. When that human dies, their soul and body die with them. But—but if by some fluke of nature, a human was to have two souls . . .”
He paused before continuing.
“When the human is consumed by the strzygi, the first soul is consumed with them. But in this school of thought, that second soul lives on. Comes to inhabit their new body. And that soul dies more slowly, more painfully. Trapped in the body of a worsening monster.”
“That’s madness,” said Lukasz, suppressing a shudder. “No one has two souls.”
“But what if they did?” asked Jakub. “There are old wives’ tales of children born with teeth, or with two hearts. These children, the stories say, are those with extra souls.”
Jakub shrugged.
“But I think belief in predisposition is too optimistic. Even the theory of souls suggests that we are, in some way or another, guided by twin forces. So perhaps this business of predisposition is simply a lie to help us sleep. Perhaps it is easier to believe some are born evil, rather than admit that predilection exists equally in every one of us.”
They were all quiet. The night seemed very heavy.
“I do not like the monsters that were once human,” Ren observed thoughtfully. “I think they are the most terrible of all.”