The Folveshch

13. The Folveshch

I cornered Aleksy in the cellar, pinning him against the wall with my forearm. I'd grown to be a strong man after all, and Aleksy, despite how well we'd fed him, had always been frail.

"Hey, hey, hey!" he screamed. I slammed his head into the wall. "The hell are you doing?"

"I ought to ask you the same thing!"

"Let go." He clawed at my arm. "You're hurting me."

"No. Care to explain, huh? About a note? Half the village thinks my mother's been abducted by some outsider."

"I know, Stefan, I was there when Irina came snooping. Her stupid husband locked me up in here and now I don't know what's going on. Please tell me you found her."

"Like hell I have. What have you done to her?"

"Done? I haven't done anything."

"Then why"– I flashed the note in his pale face – "did you write this?"

His cracked lips stretched into a devious grin from ear to ear. "Colour me surprised, Stefan – you're smarter than you look. Thought I'd disguised my handwriting rather well."

"That's not the point, you little shit. Mama can't write."

"My mistake."

But I wasn't fooled. I leaned into him, my nose inches away from his, and enunciated every syllable: "What have you done with her?"

"Ah ... Stefan ... you're hurting me."

"I asked you a question!"

"There's nothing you can do. The Folveshch –"

"Oh cut it out!"

"The Folveshch came for her. I had to write that note as a way to explain to the villagers, but I was going to tell you the truth, I swear."

"What truth? And what do you mean it came for her? You said that thing only targets men of the village, destroying the community or something like that."

"It did. It came for me and she gave herself up like she would have done for you. I had to make it look like she'd eloped or people might think the worst."

"Like what? That you killed her?"

"Nyet." He tried to wriggle from under me. "That she killed herself. Admit it, Stefan, another year in her sorry state and that's the way she would've gone. Hanged herself in the cellar, probably. How would suicide look in the eyes of the church?"

"You're lying!"

"Fine. Blame me if you like. Tell the village I ate her, if that's what you want. Tell them I picked the bones clean and saved the sweetbreads for last. I'm already a monster and everybody's frightened of me. Let them believe I'm the one who ate your father's remains, too; dug him up like some half-starved animal and washed him down with some ale. Go on. Be my guest."

"My ... father? He's at the kabina."

His ugly grin returned. "Confused are you, Stefan? Never a good idea to be angry and confused at the same time. Might make you do something ... rash." His pale eyes glittered and he eyed my forearm. His slick pink tongue poked out and he tasted my skin. "Mmm. Your day's salts," he said. "Might eat you next."

"Fuck off!" I let go of him, thankful that Avgustin had thought to chain the beast to the wall. "Aleksy, just tell me what's going on. Nobody's said anything that makes any sense."

"It's a lot to take in, isn't it? It's not fair to expect you to process it all in one night – that might drive a man from his sanity. What are you going to do now?"

"I don't know ..." I sighed. "I don't know. I just want to know if Mama's really ... gone."

"Don't you know that's up to the Folveshch? Now will you unchain me from this place? I'll give you some tobacco if you do."

"I'm not sure I trust you, Aleksy."

He let loose a hollow stab of laughter. "Ha! Trust me? I'm all you've got. I'm all you've ever had. We're brothers. Hunting partners. Best friends. Didn't your father always tell you that we are the future men of this stupid, precious community? You've been good to me, Stefan, and I've always been good to you." He cocked his head. "Please let me go. If you won't accept tobacco, at least let me make you some supper."

I closed my eyes for a moment and prayed for guidance. Whatever disturbing things the boy said or did, I could not find it in me to hate him for who he was. Grudgingly, I sought out the key and freed him from his chains, all the while reassuring myself that I wasn't making a mistake. After all, what did I actually know for sure? Very little, and Aleksy was right about one thing: He was all I had now.

When he stood, he took a step closer and placed his forefingers in the corners of my mouth, stretching my lips upwards until they hurt.

"Keep smiling, Stefan," he whispered, his gaze intense. "Your mother always said that was your best feature."

That night I sat in Papa's armchair, newspaper untouched, trying to piece the day's events together. I had never supposed the Folveshch in the woods truly existed, but Aleksy seemed to want me to believe that my mother, who had also never given credit to the tale, would offer herself up to it to save Aleksy's life conveniently while I was not around. The story didn't make any sense, but it turned out my mother really had gone. Why wasn't I out there searching for her with everyone else?

I already knew the answer, but I would not let the thought form fully in my mind.

I hoped, for her sake and mine, that she really did elope with some dashing new lover and was off to lead a happy life somewhere outside the village she'd been cooped up in. I found Aleksy's lie far easier to accept than the reality of a faceless being in the woods haunting the village. If, as I'd always assumed, the Folveshch wasn't real, then what was it that Aleksy hid from me? Had he really ... God forbid ... had he really eaten my mother?

I couldn't decide which was worse.

I watched him intently as he stewed the broth on the woodstove, wondering what, exactly, he'd put in it.