Interspirit

It felt as though even the fire in the candles had stopped flickering. Nobody moved. Even Oleg’s previously restless thumb along the bottle was frozen in place. Kyrylo felt the tug to gnaw on his fingernail again but he didn’t want to break the atmosphere either.

Finally, slowly, Oleg’s finger resumed its motions as the initial shock appeared to wear off. “You fused?” he asked, eyebrow lifted. The golden lines under his eye shimmered in the flickering light.

Kyrylo felt the sweat forming at the base of his spine. He didn’t know anything about what a spirit could sense or feel or if it could see right through him. He swallowed down the doubts.

“I didn’t say that.”

Oleg rolled his eyes and turned back to the wall of bottles, delicately returning the one he had just cleaned back to its destined spot. “You think that’s just a question people ask? For fun?”

Kyrylo checked for a reaction from Felix but his partner was still frozen in place, eyes boring a hole into the back of Oleg’s head. He was on his own, shockingly comfortable in a dangerous land where he, in theory, could be a feast for a spirit at any moment. But he also knew he was pending execution as soon as he got discovered at home so there wasn’t a whole lot to lose.

“Without admitting anything,” Kyrylo continued, “if someone had fused with a spirit, do you know how they would reverse it?”

“No.”

Kyrylo was shocked by the immediacy of the answer. No pause, no pondering, no little sigh or hint at anything else. Just a flat denial. Oleg picked up another bottle. The spirit in the corner, still covered in its cloths, took another sip from its drink.

“But you…I mean you don’t know anything?” Oleg shrugged off Kyrylo’s words. He felt an undercurrent in his body, frustration that everybody seemed so enthralled with this concept, terrified of it or shocked or both, but none of them actually knew anything. “You seemed so curious though.”

“Yes,” Oleg said, curt and increasingly disinterested. “It’s not something you hear about everyday so it’s interesting. But it’s also not something you hear about everyday so I don’t know anything about it.” The bottle slipped for a moment in his fingers but the spirit managed to grab the neck before it could fall onto the ground. “To do something like separating bodies you would need an Honour.”

“Or the Rat King.” It was the other creature cutting in. Its voice was high-pitched, almost squeaky. Kyrylo had been expecting some sort of gurgle or maybe a whisper given its appearance and he was completely unprepared for the softness when it spoke. “He could rend their bodies apart.”

Oleg spun around at the bar, staring at the patron. He didn’t seem particularly disturbed or shocked, but Kyrylo was beginning to suspect he just didn’t have a lot of emotional range. Or that nothing bothered him.

“Hush,” Oleg said. It sounded like he was chastising this creature. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Silvestia.” He turned his focus to Kyrylo. “Ignore her suggestions, she’s what…” Oleg looked up at the ceiling for a minute before returning focus. “I don’t know if you have them in your world. A believer? Is that what you would call it? There’s a bunch of them in this town obsessed with the Rat King.”

“I could be obsessed,” Kyrylo replied, sliding over closer to Silvestia.

“Yes?” Silvestia’s voice picked up though she remained hunched and hidden, only her red eye a constant of her presence. “The Rat King can rend spirits, he could rend them from you.”

“He can’t,” Oleg stated. His words were blank, empty, factual. They carried an authority Kyrylo could feel even though he knew nothing about Oleg’s knowledge. At this point he was just a bartender, and Felix was still frozen at the front door and useless. “I told you only an Honour could do something like splitting souls. The Rat King isn’t an Honour.”

“The Rat King will be!” Silvestia countered, suddenly animated. She spilled some of her drink as her arm flailed. A blue arm, Kyrylo noted, scaly and shimmering in the faint light. “His power will be unmatched. The underground will revolt.”

Oleg rolled his eyes but he slammed down the bottle. It was gentle yet firm and Silvestia suddenly recoiled back into her cloths. “This again. I’ve told you some big fish in our backwater is not about to set the world on fire. The Honours are not so pathetic that any weasel can con their way into the Watchtower. It’s not real.”

Kyrylo deflated a little as well as he felt Silvestia’s enthusiasm slip away under Oleg’s prudence. He didn’t really understand most of what was being discussed, just that one party seemed to believe it had a solution and the other dismissed it.

“I’ve seen it,” Silvestia mumbled. Oleg rubbed his eye with the base of his palm and let out a long sigh. He grimaced and gestured at Silvestia, giving her some sort of permission to continue as he seemed to give up on the whole discussion. “I’ve seen the Rat King’s power. It is real. And it could fell Harerudo.”

“For the last time, you didn’t see Harerudo.” Oleg began to pour himself his own drink, carefully wiping the rim with a towel. “That was some beggar in robes and towels. If Harerudo ever showed up we all would have emptied our pockets and thrown every last thing we owned at them. We would all be compelled into the streets and tripped over ourselves to bestow gifts onto them. The Rat King cannot ever become an Honour.”

“Wait.” Something clicked for Kyrylo as he tried his best to follow along in their conversation. “You can become an Honour? And an Honour could unfuse me from a spirit?” Oleg gave Kyrylo a wry smile as he realized what he had admitted to. “I mean someone could unfuse from a spirit, hypothetically.”

“You don’t need to become an Honour,” Silvestia said. She was suddenly beside Kyrylo, tugging on his arm. Her fingers were disturbingly cold through the fabric of his shirt but he didn’t want to shake her off and risk some sort of threat.

“Back off,” Felix shouted, sword drawn. He leaped at Silvestia and swiped at her, missing entirely as she nimbly ducked under the attack. She darted back to her own table, her fingers curling around the glass of her drink. Oleg snickered. “I knew this was some bullshit. I can’t believe you even talked to them this long. We should just kill them and get out of her.”

“Can’t do that,” Oleg said, shaking his head. “There’s no violence allowed in here.”

“Shut up,” Felix spat back. “This will be as violent as I want. You try to suck the life from people so we kill you. It’s pretty straightforward.”

“Some spirits do that,” Oleg countered. “Not a very efficient way to get power though, if that’s what you’re after. Though who would deny it if it were free and easy?”

Kyrylo was going to press for more but he decided to let it pass. This was spiraling away from the conversation he wanted to have now that Felix suddenly cared about personal safety after dragging both of them in this deep to a place they should have never been. Kyrylo was just going to ignore his objections at this point because an answer to his problems was siting across from him.

“The Rat King,” he continued, locking eyes with Silvestia. “You could take me to him? He can rend a spirit or whatever you said?”

“Are you serious?” Felix and Oleg shouted in unison then glanced at each other, visibly irritated to be in agreement.

“Well none of you are helpful.” Kyrylo shrugged. There was a normal world out there for him, one where he was on a date with Isabelle and doing boring things at a regular job. Getting a death sentence off his shoulders was one step closer to achieving that. “At least she’s offering me something.”

“She’s offering you insane!” Felix snapped, waving his sword around in front of Kyrylo’s face. “We are in the spirit realm. How is that not sinking in? This is the enemy, they’ll suck the life right out of your body and now you’re asking them to take you down to more spirits, to king spirit apparently, so that you can just hand over your body to them?”

“They haven’t.” Kyrylo gestured at Oleg and Silvestia, both of whom glanced at each other. “Maybe they’re not all just going to kill me.”

“Oh they definitely will.” Silvestia’s tone ignored the weight of her words, her excitement at being validated bouncing on every syllable. “But you can fight, right?” She pointed at Felix’s sword. “Should be fine to defend yourselves until we get to the Rat King.”

Kyrylo felt Felix’s hand on his shoulder, gentle pressure digging into his skin. He didn’t want to acknowledge that Felix was right, was uninterested in the smirk he could sense. This was the signal to go home, to give up the dream and accept their fate. This was the thing Felix had said every day since they had met. Say goodbye to your family, to your friends, put it all behind and accept that this was his life now.

But he also remembered Isabelle’s smile when she had told him they should hang out. When she laughed at his terrible jokes or even the way she lit up when she saw the spot he had saved her. The whole reason he was even bonded to a spirit was protecting her.

He shrugged off Felix’s grip and the warning slipped away with it. “I’m going down to the Rat King. I can defend myself.”

The flames in the candles above wavered for a split second. Kyrylo ignored the shudder it sent through his spine, the tug along his skin as it felt like the fog was creeping in under the door and wrapping around him. There was a flash in his mind of the spirit within him, the one he had seen in the reflection before. He buried it all.

Oleg took a long sip from his drink, staring at Kyrylo the entire time. Felix mumbled something to himself. Silvestria seemed content with her drink and her answer.

“Do we just go or what happens?” Kyrylo asked, the moment of the decision fading away as nothing progressed in response.

“Need to finish my drink first,” Silvestia answered. Oleg chuckled.

“Have you no bar etiquette?” he added. “I would prefer you not rush my customers out the door.”

“You’re going through with this?” Felix said, yanking Kyrylo back to face him. “I don’t even know how to explain to you what’s wrong with this. We descended into a spirit city we didn’t know existed. We’re being offered up to a royal spirit on a platter. We’re surrounded by spirits which, I can’t believe how many times I’m saying the word spirit here and it isn’t ringing any alarm bells for you, but I’ll remind you these spirits have straight up told us that they will attempt to kill us. And you’re fine?”

Kyrylo nodded, a stupid smile spreading on his face. “It’s fun to see you freaking out after all these months.”

“Fuck off, you can’t be doing this just to spite me.”

Kyrylo held up two fingers, almost pinching them together in front of his eye. “It’s like five percent of the motivation. But I’ll remind you we are as good as dead if we go back too.”

“Only if we’re caught,” Felix protested, his face suddenly softening. He ran his hand over his shaved head. “I would have pulled my hair out by now if I hadn’t cut it. I mean you’re not even giving us a chance to figure it out.”

“This is figuring it out. There’s no way we can snoop around the RIF all day and not get caught. They figured out I’m fused in two seconds.”

Felix’s scowl returned and he rolled his shoulders, pressing two fists together and cracking all his knuckles, an awful habit Kyrylo hated to hear whenever he did it. “Fine. Fine, this is some sort of punishment I’m receiving for trying to teach you a lesson and haul you in here? I get it, I see. Then I don’t want to have to explain where your corpse is if I go back without you. Also you can barely wield a sword.”

Kyrylo pulled in close to Felix, seeing the little sparkle of sweat on his neck, exposing how anxious he actually was behind the cool, uncaring persona he cast. “You also just really want to see what the Rat King is too, don’t you?”

Felix bit at his lip and tilted his own head down, glimmer in his eye. “I absolutely do.”