As Black as Ebony (5 page)

I’ve seen so often how people can be truly, senselessly cruel to each other. Especially in school. Children and teenagers find each other’s vulnerabilities and strike at them without mercy. They are animals. School is a hunting ground and a battlefield. Only the strong survive.

That is really why I dream about getting to carry out my threats. Everyone watching the play. Everyone silent in their seats.

Then the stage fills with shouts and blood and bodies. Panic. The doors are locked. Then it’s the audience’s turn. One at a time. No one would escape. I would paint the whole theater red.

“Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

They would learn that even the strongest, most brutal, and most cunning are not invincible. The laws of life and death are cruel teachers.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 10

Lumikki was jealous. It was the first time in her life she’d realized it this powerfully. She had wanted to be someone else before, of course. Someone who wouldn’t need to hide the bruises when she got home and suck blood from her lower lip, to claim that she had just tripped on the way from school. But that had been more of a hopeless desire to get out of her own life than specific jealousy for someone else’s.

Sampsa’s father carried in a big pile of pancakes and set them on the table.

“These aren’t going to win any prizes,” he said.

“Well, what do you expect when, the whole time you were cooking them, you had one eye on that iPad game of yours,” Sampsa’s mother pointed out and patted her husband’s arm.

Sampsa’s little sister, Saara, was rocking in her chair.

“I’m going to eat at least six pancakes!” she announced.

“How does a penguin make pancakes?” Sampsa asked.

“Um, how?” his sister asked.

“With its flippers!”

“What? Oh . . .” Saara said as the punch line dawned on her and she began laughing infectiously.

“Okay, here’s another one,” he said. “What dinosaur loves pancakes most?”

“What?” Saara asked.

“Tri-syrup-tops!”

Saara nearly fell on the floor giggling.

“I’m here all week, folks,” Sampsa said, looking smug.

“I blame their sense of humor on you,” Sampsa’s mother said to his father.

Sampsa’s dad shrugged, grinning proudly.

Lumikki watched the exchange in bewilderment.

She wasn’t used to being in a family like this where people joked and laughed all the time. Sampsa’s family also seemed to talk nonstop. Words flew back and forth between them like balls being tossed around, some of them landing on the floor without anyone paying any attention. The conversation seemed almost chaotic, but it wasn’t. Everyone more or less kept up. Even Saara, who was only four.

A certain amount of tender chaos characterized other aspects of Sampsa’s house as well. Even the most generous person could never have called it tidy. There was stuff all over the place: toys strewn across the floor, clothes draped over chairs, piles of magazines, piles of books, half-opened boxes and packages that could have been coming or going. Lumikki’s parents’ house never could have looked like that.

Lumikki envied Sampsa’s family so much it made her heart ache. Everything showed that their life was here and now. They took care of each other and enjoyed each other’s company. They had fun. They were comfortable, without anything contrived or fake or pretend about them, even when a stranger like Lumikki was visiting. They had accepted her like a long-lost relative expected to participate in everything going on. Lumikki had never felt as welcome anywhere as when she stepped over the threshold of Sampsa’s home. Her own father’s Swedish-Finnish extended family had always felt distant to Lumikki even though they had their own happy songs and liked to talk. Every time she was with them, Lumikki felt like a black sheep everyone wished was different—happier and more social. Sampsa’s family was like Sampsa himself: without any demands or expectations.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lumikki watched Sampsa, relaxed and smiling broadly as he piled pancakes onto his little sister’s plate. Lumikki knew she could never look like that with her family.

Everything was so good in Sampsa’s life. His happiness was self-evident and yet completely deserved. He was a person who had room to be friendly and warm to others. In his world, there weren’t any silent secrets or threatening letters or the fear of death. In his world, a girlfriend wasn’t supposed to let her ex-boyfriend massage her neck knowing full well the forbidden desire his touch would arouse.

Lumikki watched the bustle of Sampsa’s family and suddenly felt chillingly alone. Her fear, her dark places, her anger that ran as red as blood, the black shadows of her forest, her murky waters and deep undercurrents. They would never be these people’s life. These happy, sunny, joking, playful, loud, almost irritatingly voluble, and perfectly lovely people’s life.

“Now my hands are sticky!” Saara said, holding up red palms.

In the end, she’d only managed to eat three pancakes.

“Well, you did eat half a gallon of strawberry jam on your pancakes. And you ate with your hands.”

Sampsa leaned over to wipe his sister’s hands with a napkin.

Sticky strawberry jam. Red. Sticky. Warm. Blood.

Images flashed through Lumikki’s head so fast she couldn’t catch hold of them. In her mind, she saw jam dripping onto the floor. She saw a pool of blood that grew and grew. She shook her head a little. Where were these images coming from?

“Can I go play now?” Saara asked impatiently.

“Yes,” her mother replied.

“Lumikki is going to come play princesses with me,” Saara declared, grabbing Lumikki’s hand with her own still slightly sticky one.

Lumikki flinched at the touch. A bloody hand. A hand that didn’t move even when she nudged it. A slowly cooling hand.

“Lumikki might still want to eat. Ask nicely,” Sampsa’s father said.

“Sure, I’ll come,” Lumikki said quickly.

She wanted to get her mind away from the strange associations that kept flashing and disappearing like lightning strikes.

Saara put a frilly lace hat on Lumikki’s head before pulling a pink dress over her own clothes and waving her magic wand.

“This is a magic wand and a sword at the same time,” she explained proudly, showing off the sparkling stick.

“That’s handy. If monsters come, you can cast a spell on them and make them nice, or fight them off,” Lumikki said.

The lace hat itched on her head, but she let it be. She could stand a little discomfort during the game.

“Monsters are my friends. But if the evil prince comes, I’ll chop off his head. And then I’ll turn him into a cute little frog.”

Lumikki smiled. Apparently, this family had turned the traditional fairy-tale roles on their heads several times over. Saara started dancing wildly in her pink princess dress. Little Briar Rose.

The last letter flashed into Lumikki’s mind and she tried to push it back. But it wouldn’t go. Its words barged back to the forefront, hitting her like waves rolling against the shore one after another. Ever higher, breaking white.

Briar Rose. Rose.

Lumikki had to sit down on the floor because her legs would have given way. This wasn’t a dream or a fumbling fantasy. This was real. This was a memory.

Rose. Rosa.

Her sister’s name had been Rosa.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 11

Lumikki pressed herself flat against the cold stone wall of the tower room. She stayed perfectly silent and still. First, she became only a shadow, then part of the wall as she melted into it. Lumikki became hard. Her legs and arms froze. Her heart became a rock. Her breath slowed to nothing. She did not exist.

Lumikki knew that the door of the tower room would open, that she would only have a few seconds. She would have to strike instantly. In her hand, she squeezed the silver comb, stroking its sharp teeth with a finger. If she pressed her fingertip against a tooth, it would sink into her skin and make great drops of blood well up. The winding, beautiful ornamental embossing of the comb felt comforting and safe against her hand. It formed an image of intertwining roses.

Briar Rose. Who pricked her finger on a spinning wheel and slept for a century. Rosa, who slept the eternal sleep. Lumikki’s sister. No, she couldn’t think about that now.

She had to concentrate on when the door would open. All her senses and thoughts had to be harnessed to this.

Lumikki heard footsteps approaching. She could tell from their rhythm it was the person she was waiting for. She hated him so much that her rage nearly blinded her with a jagged haze of red across her vision. Her captor, her oppressor, who had killed the only person Lumikki could imagine loving. Lumikki hated him so much she was ready to kill.

The steps paused at the door. The key turned excruciatingly slowly in the lock. Lumikki squeezed the comb in her hand. As the prince walked in, the opening door concealed Lumikki. The prince looked around at the empty tower room, confused. Lumikki kicked the door shut and attacked the prince. With a single, violent thrust, she plunged the sharp teeth of the comb into the prince’s neck. The prince fell, holding his throat.

Blood. Red and warm. The elixir of life pulsing out of the prince with every heartbeat, every leaking drop moving him closer to death.

“Help,” the prince beseeched Lumikki as he died.

“Never.”

Lumikki stood in the prince’s blood and watched as the life began to disappear from his face. She didn’t hurry. She enjoyed the moment.
Die, my tormentor. You wanted to lull me into an eternal sleep and close me back up in a glass coffin. You wanted to look at me as if I were nothing more than a beautiful, silent decoration. Not a living person with thoughts and feelings and desires. Difficult to control. My own independent being who doesn’t always do exactly what you want.

“Good, good. Very good. Lumikki, keep that.”

Excitedly, Tinka jumped onto the stage and put her hand on Lumikki’s arm. Lumikki recoiled. She realized how hard she was breathing. Her hands were shaking and she was almost surprised to find they weren’t bloody. She had felt the warm, sticky blood on them. Sticky like strawberry jam. Once again, Lumikki had been somewhere else, so deep in her role that everything had actually been happening to her.

“Is that really believable that she just stands there watching me die? Shouldn’t she run away or something?” Aleksi asked, rubbing his neck.

“This is an important climax. Snow White’s revenge. Of course she has to stop and watch for a few seconds. The audience has to stop. And this isn’t supposed to be realistic.”

Tinka sounded irritated again, as she did so often when she spoke to Aleksi.

“Okay, okay. You’re the director. It’s your vision,” Aleksi replied.

Then he leaned over to Lumikki.

“Could you go a little easier with the comb next time? You scratched me pretty bad.”

Aleksi showed the red marks on his neck.

“Yeah, sorry.”

What Lumikki couldn’t say was how surprised she was that Aleksi’s neck wasn’t spurting real blood. She didn’t have any memory of a moment when she could have stopped her attack.

“That’s a wrap for tonight,” Tinka said and clapped her hands.

Everybody started collecting their things. Sampsa came over to Lumikki and put his arm around her.

“Tonight I’m going to stay over at your place and we can play Snow White and the Huntsman,” he whispered into Lumikki’s ear.

“The Huntsman dies,” Lumikki said with a snort. “I’m not sure I’m really into the necrophilia thing.”

“I might rise from the dead with the right encouragement.”

Watching their whispering, Tinka’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“Let’s go before we have to get those two a room.”

Aleksi laughed. Lumikki couldn’t quite put a finger on Tinka’s tone of voice. Maybe there was a little jealousy in it, but was there something else? Something darker? A hard edge under the sarcasm?

In the front lobby, a strange sight awaited them.

Red rose petals had been scattered all over the floor.

“Okay, who’s the funny man?” Tinka asked the others.

Everyone just looked at each other and shrugged.

“Nobody else should be here but us,” Sampsa pointed out.

“Hello? Anybody here?” Tinka yelled loudly.

Here, here, here
, echoed down the empty hallways. No one answered.

“Strange,” Aleksi said.

Lumikki looked at the petals and smelled their heady, sickly scent in her nostrils. She knew the roses were meant for her. Her stalker wanted to remind her of Briar Rose. Apparently, he didn’t know that Lumikki had already remembered the name. That brought her some degree of satisfaction. Lumikki knew that in at least one area, she was ahead of her stalker.

Once upon a time, there was a key that fit a small chest. Two little girls often played with the chest. It was their treasure chest where they hid jewelry and rocks and bird feathers and perfect pinecones and beautiful autumn leaves and corks and marbles and all the secrets they shared. They were princesses and, when they grew up, they would use the riches in the chest to travel around the world.

Then came the day when the chest was emptied. All of the girls’ wonderful treasures disappeared. The chest was filled with other kinds of treasures and secrets. But no one could use them to travel around the world. And besides, one of the girls would never travel anywhere ever again.

Once upon a time, there was a key that had waited long and patiently.

Once upon a time, there was a key that wanted to open the chest again and reveal its secrets.

Once upon a time, there was a key that was moved from its old hiding place to wait in a new hiding place, a cold crevice of rock.