Page 38

Slowly, I descend the winding stairs lining the inner belly of the fortress, tracing the cool stone walls with my hand. As my fingers graze a cluster of cobwebs, revulsion skitters up my spine. I let out a huff of disgust, wiping my palm clean against my leg. But when I glance up and continue forward, my heart lurches.

A gray silhouette emerges from the shadows. The space is dark, but I can make out the dim shape of long, hanging hair. It’s her again, the woman with the hunched shoulders who haunted me in the hall. Dread slams into me as she creeps forward, breath rattling. I stumble, my foot missing the next stair.

Strong arms catch me as the beer bottles clatter to the ground. “You alright?” Luka asks, gripping my waist.

“Did you see that?” I gasp.

“See what?”

I frantically scan the shadows, but there is only the gray stone of the fortress walls. Yet I’m certain she was there a moment earlier.

“Never mind,” I say, defeated. As my body slackens, I realize Luka’s hands are still on me. When I meet his gaze, his face is only inches away.

The air within the fortress suddenly transforms, crackling with energy. My fear dissipates, replaced by a calamity of nerves and want knotting in my belly.

That dark, starry-eyed look is back in Luka’s eyes, but it morphs into something more tortured, touched with concern. “Petra,” he says. It’s the first time he’s spoken my name directly since we met on the pier. The way he says it, rolling the r like my mom did, like Karmela does, sends a quiet tremor through me. No guy back home ever pronounced it this way, how it’s meant to sound.

“Yes?” I ask, breathless.

His chest rises and falls. His gaze burns into mine. “There’s something you should know—”

A sharp peal of laughter cuts him off. High-pitched and feminine. Fear shoots through my veins as I swivel back to the corner where the woman lurked.

But then a male voice joins her, followed by several more. A group of people are approaching the fortress. Judging by their volume, they’ve had far more to drink than us.

Luka backs away, releasing me from his hold. With a shaky exhale, I follow him out of the fortress. We haven’t gone a few steps before someone calls out in Croatian, “Luka, is that you?”

He pauses, giving a short wave and a clipped “Da.”

“What are you doing out here?” Though my back is turned, I recognize the person speaking as Davor.

“We were just . . . taking a walk,” Luka replies. I turn around, smoothing my shirt, trying to appear nonchalant.

Davor stands at the head of the group, his arm looped around a woman. When he sees me, anger flashes across his face, along with something else, almost like fear. The rest of the group, a cluster of men and women, stare.

“So, you’re still here,” Davor says. “I hoped my little surprise this morning would scare you off.”

It takes me a moment to realize he’s talking about the monkfish. “That was you?” I can feel Luka stiffen beside me.

Davor nods, while some of the men behind him sneer.

“Why?”

“Because ever since you came here, nothing’s been right. People are having nightmares, feeling pressure on their chest at night, struggling to breathe.” His voice lowers, full of contempt. “The mora was gone, but you’ve brought her back.”

My heart skips a beat. He can’t be serious. My palms grow sweaty as the others throw me looks ranging from angry to frightened. “What?” I ask nervously. “Who’s been having nightmares?”

“Me, for one. Tomo too.” He points to a stocky man to his left. “And Nada, Nada Perović, she told us her daughter saw some kind of shadow in her room.”

I think of the woman and girl in the supermarket, perhaps Nada and her daughter. Is that why I don’t always have nightmares—because the shadow woman is off haunting other people? But I immediately push the idea aside. There is no mora. It is only a story twisted out of proportion, spread out of jealousy and spite, like Karmela said.

I glance at Luka for aid, but his gaze is fixed on Davor. He doesn’t seem surprised by what’s been said.

“Did you know about these rumors?” I ask him quietly in English.

My heart stutters as I wait for Luka to answer. He turns to me, his expression torn. “That’s what I was about to tell you. But it’s all bullshit. They’re just having some bad dreams, that’s all.”

The realization hits like a punch to the gut. All this time, he knew why people were acting so weird and said nothing—even after I just opened up about wanting to belong. His nonchalance about the curse had comforted me, but now I feel off-kilter. Did he think I couldn’t handle the truth? I think suddenly of my mom—how she also kept me in the dark.