Page 13 of The Bone Doll
Now, when he squeezed into the bedroll beside her, his back facing hers, her skin tingled. She told herself she was a fool and he was the cause of all this trouble. But that didn’t stop the dark, hot feeling inside her belly.
“You’re stiff,” Viktor said.
Well, she hadn't intended to share a bedroll with the man who had pulled her away from her family and into the Ruthenian wilderness. “I’m cold.”
“I told you about Lyoshenka yesterday,” he said. “Let me tell you aboutleshys.”
She was quiet. She hadn’t asked about the spirit she was meant to bind. She just assumed she would fail. She couldn’t read omens. How did anyone expect her to bind this angry forest spirit back to its trees? But maybe with the Bone Doll, she could dispel it like she had that strange red spirit.
“Sometimes,leshys look like humans., but there’s always something wrong with them. They’ll have no eyelashes or they will button their caftans wrong,” Viktor said. “Other times they’ll look like men made from trees with gnarled, bark-like skin. And they’re always tall. They usually like to run with and hunt the forest creatures, and the worst they’ll do is lead travelers off the path.
“Zoldrovya’sleshyused to be like that,” he continued. “You used to not know therewasaleshy. But about 10 years ago, it began to overtake the estate. It lured children away from their families, never to be seen again. It strangled livestock in the night. And now it’s trying to tear the manor down.”
The Bone Doll hummed against her belly, low and subtle like a cold breeze. Syra bit her lip. Theleshyand her grandfather’s figurine sounded eerily similar.
“They should have sent you with a strongervidutana,” she said. “I can’t even protect my own clan from that sort of thing.”
She felt Viktor stiffen. “You can’t do it?”
“I told you: I don’t have much magic.”
“But the Bone Doll does.”
“Yes,” she said hesitantly.
“I know you can.” His voice was barely audible. “You have to.”
Syra said nothing more, and soon Viktor began to breathe heavier, sleeping. She let her eyes drift shut even as her fingers ached from gripping the doll. And Syra slept, for a time.
Then the Bone Doll spoke.
Its voice was a rattle, like rabbit bones tossed in the wind. Its voice was a whistle, the summer wind in the grass. Its voice was her grandfather’s, chanting to their ancestors. It spoke only in fragments and in words Syra didn’t understand. It was inside her head, whispering, whispering, whispering. And then it screamed.
Images flashed in her mind. Men with axes. Branches crushing bone. Leaves rustling. Women digging. Blood trickling along roots. Children humming. The forest turning black.
Gasping, Syra sat upright.
The starlight filtering through the branches was harsh, casting stark shadows on the earth. Above, only two of the Three Dogs were visible.The world unbalanced,she knew instinctively, the prophecy easy and simple for the first time in her life. She clung to that feeling.
Viktor was beside her, upright as well, with his belt knife in his hand. The starlight made his skin look smooth as sealskin. Syra dragged her gaze away. After a moment, Viktor lowered the blade, his expression softening. “Are you all right?”
They were in the lean-to, surrounded by damp leaves. The rain had, blessedly, stopped. The forest was dark, but not dead. No men with axes or women with shovels, nor bloodthirsty trees. Syra wiped the steaming sweat off her brow. “It was just a nightmare.”
“It’s that thing.”
At some point while she slept, Syra had pulled the Bone Doll from her pocket. Now, it lay atop their bedroll like a lapdog, glowing faintly blue and twitching as though dreaming its own dreams. She swallowed against a wave of nausea. Were these the sorts of nightmares it gave the children it tried to lure away? The visions it gave the reindeer to induce them into a stampede? She snatched up the figurine and shoved it in her pocket.
“We should have left it buried,” she said. “It’s too dangerous.”
Viktor lifted his hand as though to touch the doll in its pocket, but he stopped himself. “Is it hurting you?”
“No.” Syra froze. She should pull away so he couldn’t touch the Bone Doll. Yet her belly fluttered at how close they were. He was shirtless and … they had never touched skin to skin. “It was just a nightmare.”
Viktor set his hands on the blanket purposefully as though he, too, was trying to stop himself from touching her. “Lie back down. I’ll tell you another story.”
Turning to face away from him, Syra lay back down and squeezed her eyes shut. The Bone Doll twitched and muttered, but she barely noticed. Instead, all she could think about was how warm the bedroll was – and howtouchableViktor had looked.
Chapter 9
