Little Hidden Darknesses

The last thing I expected to be doing the morning after arriving on Evermist Island, was walking through town with a basket of dirty laundry on my back. Literally. The basket had a strap for either arm and a lid to keep the sheets from piling out. As I walked, the bottom of the basket hit the back of my thighs, chafing me even through my jeans.

“Do you understand now why I didn’t want to do the laundry?” Alejandro asked as we hiked across the parking lot and turned left down the bend toward the local businesses. He adjusted his own basket, which – if you asked me – looked considerably smaller than mine. Granted I was the actual maid, and he my designated rope-shower.

“Sadly, yes.” My voice bounced in my throat from the downward slope. I shortened my steps to keep the basket from bouncing as much, alas gravity took its toll and I started to sprint.

Alejandro, who seemed little affected by the slope, annoyed me. Not because he maintained a steady pace, but because he kept laughing at me. Apparently my struggle brought him so much joy, he had to hold his stomach and wipe tears from under his eyes.

“Laugh all you want,” I mumbled, “but if I trip and fall, you’re carrying me back up the slope.”

“Fair enough,” was all he said.

We descended in silence for a bit, breathing in the morning air. The sun tickled at the back of my neck, even through the greyish blanket of clouds overhead. I adjusted my ponytail so my hair covered it. Sunburn was no joke. Especially not for fair skin such as mine.

“Nice to see the two of you out and about,” a man walking his dog greeted us as he passed. The dog slinked around our feet, sniffing at our soles and the bottom of the baskets.

“Morning, Joe,” Alejandro replied with a nod of his head. “I see old Rex is as chipper as ever.”

“He sure is. See you!” Joe imitated Alejandro’s gesture and walked off without a second glance.

I only realised I was clenching my fists once Joe’s footsteps faded in the distance behind us. He didn’t even notice me. Well, he did, but not in the way I was noticed yesterday.

As strange as it seemed, I considered it a win. Perhaps things were finally starting to look up.

I felt good when we reached the bottom of the slope and crossed the street onto the square in the centre of town. At 9AM on a Thursday morning, people were up and about. And no one paid me any attention. Those who did, though, merely grinned and mouthed a greeting.

“Everyone seems so ... so relaxed this morning,” I commented as we passed the dreaded Ariel’s Café. I saw the waitress from yesterday on a footstool outside, hanging up what looked like white ribbons with bells at the bottom. Not even she cast me a second glance.

Across from the café, May from the bookshop was arranging a series of candles in the front window. More bells dangled from the windowsills outside, complete with a wooden cross in a pot of fussy grass. A man sat on the steps of the pharmacy, painting a large pumpkin with pictures of people in robes – of saints and prominent figures from the bible.

“What are they all doing?” I asked.

We stepped aside when two men passed us with a ladder, on their way to the nearest lamppost where a woman waited with a folded banner. One such banner had already been put up ahead of us, all the way from the one side of the square to the other. It had a picture of a candle on it, of which the flame burned in the shape of a holy cross.

The phrase underneath it read, “They will receive blessing from the Lord and vindication from the God of their salvation. Psalm 24:5.”

“They’re preparing for All Saint’s Day,” said Alejandro. “The people in town adore it. Much like Día de Muertos for my mother and I, it’s the biggest night of the year for them.”

“Night?” I asked. “I thought you said everyone’s too afraid of the fog to go out at night?”

“Actually, All Saint’s Day it’s the one night of the year that the fog doesn’t cover the town.”

“Really? Why is that?”

Alejandro shrugged. “Something about lost souls granting their loved ones time to remember them.”

“Oh, okay.” I watched as May finished her arrangement and stepped back to examine it. She switched several candles before she finally headed inside. “It’s still strange, though.”

“No argument there.”

I surveyed the rest of the square, the businesses and people and all their decorations. These folks went all out. Some even sat on the ground, painting bible verses on the bricks.

We entered a lane of birch trees, nearly every branch with a white ribbon and bell tied to it. In the centre of the lane towered a statue, surrounded by a mass of people. More decorators. I didn’t think much of them at first, until I noticed an elderly woman in a flesh-coloured gown and her hair rolled into a bun, ordering people around. The same woman from Vinsant estate.

“Who’s that old woman over there?” I asked, not taking my eyes off her. She directed a group of young men as they carried what looked like a stage in front of the statue. One of the young men caught my eye: Aillard. He wore a tank top today, showcasing his muscles.

“That’s Genevieve Vinsant,” Alejandro told me. “I thought you had already met them all?”

“I did, but no one called her by her name.”

Genevieve Vinsant.

I adjusted the basket on my back, feeling the urge to hide behind it – inside of it if I fit. My eyes combed the crowd for the rest of the family, except they were nowhere to be found.

“What are they doing? And why is she ordering people around like that?”

Alejandro and I peeled apart as a pair of men carried a stack of chairs in between us. A couple more followed, all headed toward the stage in front of the statue as directed by Genevieve. When we met up again, he said, “Well, their ancestors founded the town. They’re in charge of it all. The speeches, banquet, dances ... the whole shebang.”

“My ancestors, you mean,” I corrected him.

“Oh, yea. Of course.” Alejandro slowed down as we approached the statue in the middle of the lane.

It was of two people, a man and a woman, chiselled down to the finest detail. I scanned their faces, first the man followed by the woman. She seemed familiar. Her nose. Her cheekbones. The way her back arched over ever so slightly. Except she had almost no wrinkles.

“Is that,” I began, narrowing my eyes, “a younger Genevieve?”

Alejandro lifted his fringe to study it with both eyes. “Wow, you’re right. It really does look like her,” he said as he lowered it over his face again. Then, he adjusted his basket and clicked his heels together. “But, it can’t be. This statue was put up hundreds of years ago.”

“Oh.” The let-down in my voice rang true.

“Yep. I guess the genes in your family must be strong when it comes to looks. I mean, have you seen Freya and Lilith? To a T, those two. And then there’s the wicked twins, of course.”

I nodded, although I wasn’t really listening. There was no way two women of different generations could look this much alike. But, then again, I looked a terrible lot like my mum.

Too much, according to her.

“Come on, the laundromat is down here,” said Alejandro and set off down the lane of trees again.

I peeled myself away from the statue, but not without peering at Genevieve a final time. My heart bounced into my throat as I saw her, staring at me as I studied the statue. Our eyes met and I froze in place. She blinked, and I blinked. A part of her reminded me of Lilith – the way she managed to drill right into my soul. Into my thoughts and nerves.

Chills spread across my arms and down the back of my spine. I thought of Branka, and how she had looked at me last night through the window. Was this supposed to be a threat?

I had not time to find out, as Alejandro’s hand latched around my wrist and he pulled me away. He spoke to me, but his words reached my ears as muffles. Until he shut up.

“Eira?” he said, letting go of my arm.

I blinked rapidly. “S – Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I asked whether you wanted a death sentence. You can’t just stare at the Vinsants like that. Any amount of eye contact is too much.” He paused. “What happened back there, anyway?”

“I’m not sure.”

We cleared the lane of trees and approached the first building to our left, another two-storey redbrick with a cross out front and a life-size sticker of a washing machine in the window. I stopped halfway up the steps to the door, prompting Alejandro to do the same.

I asked, “Don’t you find it strange how no one seems to stare at me today?”

He turned to face me, his hair sailing in the breeze. I looked at him from below, at last able to see both his eyes. “Not really, no. They’ve already seen you, so you’re no longer a stranger.”

“But I came through the fog. They all looked at me as if I was a criminal. Your mum chased me away.”

Alejandro merely shrugged at this. “It’s a small town. You’ll notice news gets old pretty fast around here.” Then, he turned and entered through the front door of the laundromat.

I hesitantly followed, grumbling under my breath. While I couldn’t exactly place my frustration, I knew it was there, and that it had something to do with this bloody odd island.

The inside of the laundromat smelled of soap and fabric softener. The silence of the street outside was replaced by whirring machines, water gushing and clothes tumbling around. Alejandro removed his basket and handed it to a stout man behind the counter. He had no hair and a moustache the length of my thumb. I gave him my basket and he smiled.

“Oh,” he said with delight, “and who’ve you brought along today, Alejandro dear boy?”

Alejandro placed a hand on my shoulder. His grip was firm and his palm warm, comforting even. I found myself leaning into his touch, absorbing everything I could out of it. The way the pads of his fingers felt against my skin, and how his thumb tucked into the nook of my neck.

My lips already curved upwards, my muscles prepared to force an introductory grin, when –

“Mike, this is Piper,” he said, and my spirits fell.

“Uh, Eira,” I corrected him.

Alejandro didn’t react right away. Nor did Mike behind the counter. His eyes flicked from Alejandro to me, his moustache wiggling under his nose. “So,” he asked, “which one is it?”

“Eira, of course,” Alejandro replied while shaking his head. “I don’t know why I said Piper.”

I didn’t know either. Even though we didn’t know each other that well, no excuse justified the fact that he knew my mum’s name when I hadn’t once mentioned it. Well, he might’ve heard May say it in the bookshop, but that still didn’t explain how he confused the two.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Eira,” said Mike as he emphasized my name. He extended a hairy, swollen hand and I took it. Limply, though. “It’s not everyday I see young Alejandro with a girl.”

I watched Alejandro through the corner of my eyes as he blushed and scratched behind his head. He seemed little fazed by his slipup. Or maybe I just made too big a deal out of it. Either way, my list of strange encounters only seemed to grow. To grow and become stranger by the second. If only my mum was here. If only she could help me understand.

Mike withdrew his hand and scribbled down the motel’s quote. Then, he ripped it from the booklet, gave it to Alejandro and sent us off. “I’ll get the payment upon delivery, then?”

“As usual,” Alejandro replied.

“Yea, yea, just checking. Have a good one, you two,” sang Mike with a another wiggle of his moustache. “And stay away from trouble.” As if we actually had a choice.

Mike’s chortling stayed behind in the laundromat as we left through the door and descended the steps into the street. Once the door clicked shut, I heeled in my tracks and spun.

“Alejan –” The words stilled in my mouth when a familiar t’sk reached my ears and a series of footsteps stalled in my wake. I knew who it was simply by the smell of her perfume.

Sharp and musky.

Dangerous, almost.

I turned to face a visibly surprised Freya, flanked by two young men, both with bulging muscles and no necks. They carried a ladder between them, and Freya a folded banner.

Her green eyes set ablaze as she said, “Oh, what a pleasant surprise.” It clearly wasn’t. “What are you still doing here, Eira? I thought you’d have left the island after last night.”

I scoffed at her too-sweet and obviously forced tone. “Actually, I thought about staying for a while.”

Freya’s dimples deepened – a thrilling, satisfying sight. “That doesn’t bother you, does it?” I added.

Lilith’s eldest daughter visibly gnawed on her teeth as she replied, “No, of course not.” She paused to adjust her grin – make it look more authentic. “The island’s big enough for all of us. Just be weary of the fog, though. People tend to disappear when they enter it.”

“Oh? Your sister didn’t seem to weary of it last night,” I noted.

This made Freya flinch. Not flinch, exactly, but tilt her head at me. It was more her henchmen who baulked. They shared a glance, then leaned over her shoulder with pinched brows.

“Freya,” said the one, “is she talking about Branka?”

“Did your sister enter the fog without ... you know, dying?” the other one wanted to know.

Freya pushed them back and away from her face. “Of course not, you fools. She’s obviously lying.” Then, she put her hands on her exposed waist. “Just like she lied about her mum.”

“You know I’m not lying,” I started to say, but Freya clicked her tongue and spoke over me.

“It’s quite fitting, you know, that you’ve made friends with dalmatian boy over here. Two freaks. Birds of a feather, like they always say.” She pursed her lips and flipped her sheet of long, dark hair behind her back. Her shoulders wiggled in delight of my anger.

The goons on either side of her chuckled.

And this set me off.

Before I could stop myself, I lunged at Freya and pressed my index finger to her chest, her silver necklace with a cross on it. The metal burned cold against my otherwise searing skin. “If anyone’s fucking lying, it’s you! I saw my mum’s photo at your house!”

Alejandro writhed beside me. “Eira –”

I backed away and gasped for breath, only now noticing how most of the street, including the lane of birch trees and square opposite it, had gone quiet. Especially those by the statue. My eyes flicked across their faces, only to pause upon Genevieve and Aillard.

They both stared at me. At my raised hand and finger, and the distraught Freya – not really – across from me. She had her hand on her chest now, her fingers clutching the cross.

Aillard made to approach, but Genevieve blocked him with her arm. He stayed put, but not with a smile.

“See that,” Freya went on, “now you’ve made a scene.”

“So?” I barked, even though I felt like shrivelling inside. Great job, Eira. Always after attention.

“This just proves you’re a liar. Vinsants are poised. Vinsants are proper. Vinsants never make scenes.”

I gritted my teeth, at the brink of snapping something back again, when Alejandro grabbed my wrist. This didn’t work, though, so he slid his hand down to mine and interlaced our fingers. My breath caught in my throat, the back of my neck suddenly growing warm.

Tingling.

“Eira, let’s go,” he advised. “It’s not worth it.”

I considered wrenching away, but eventually gave in to his pull. I allowed him to lug me down an alley to our left, out of the street and away from Freya, from the ocean of critical eyes.

Just as we approached the corner at the end, I craned my neck a final time, taking one last look behind me. Freya still stared at me, her lips smoothed into a grin and her eyes narrowed.

Almost as if to say, “This is our island, bitch. And don’t you forget that.”