Ginger gave a small squeak, like a startled mouse. A soft exhalation disturbed the fabric of the coat. And then there was no more-she lay still.
Tears streamed from my eyes. The rock slipped from my hands and rolled down away from the tree. I staggered back.
What had I done?
"I'm sorry," I sobbed. "I love you, Ginger."
Alex knelt down and turned her over. I could not bring myself to look over his shoulder as he removed the coat. I saw a stain on the dirt that was dark. Not the color of blood, but like molasses. Dark.
"She's gone," he said quietly. He gazed at me with a stricken expression of tenderness.
I saw the silver knife glittering in his left hand and a stake in his right. We knew what had to be done to keep her from rising as a vampire.
I knelt down beside him, shaking. I opened Ginger's coat and the stained and soggy blouse. It took me three tries to work the buttons. Her chest was pale, and I could see that the red tongues of the infection had worked beneath her bra strap and wound around her ribs.
I forced myself to try to take the knife from Alex. His hands were frozen around the hilt.
"No," he said. "I'll do it."
The stake plunged between the upper left two ribs, spilling a dark, viscous fluid on the ground.
I was glad that Alex was here, glad that he was here to take some of this terrible burden from me. The silver glinted in his fist as he brought the blade to her throat. I looked away, away until her head rolled down the little slope to come to rest beside the stone.
I stood there, gasping. The sunshine washed over me, cold and distant. Alex had his back to me. I could see his stained hands, the way his shoulders shook.
I couldn't help myself. My whole spirit buckled and shattered. I pressed my hands to my mouth and let loose a hoarse cry of anguish, like a raven's caw.
***
We used some of the remaining lighter fluid on Ginger's remains and dragged her head and body to the pyre. I stripped her wedding rings from her fingers with the intention of giving them to her family, if we ever saw them. I gently removed her broken glasses from her pocket and tucked them into our pack. We sat upwind of the pyre, feeding the fire with leaves and dried branches. We were covered in blood. I'm sure that if there was something lurking in the countryside, it could smell us. I don't think I cared much, anymore. We were open, exposed, and I felt, deep down, that we deserved whatever came for us. But Alex insisted that we burn our clothes and don the English garments we'd taken from the Animal Farm. I cast my Plain dress and apron into the fire, watching the remnants of my former life flicker and burn. But I kept the bonnet in the pocket of the loose jeans I wore.
"We can bury her ashes in the morning," I said. I was pressed up against Alex's side. I felt him nod against me. I covered his hand with mine. I had slipped Ginger's rings on my right index finger. There was a simple gold band and a gold ring with a diamond in it. It was the first time in my life I'd ever worn jewelry. It made me feel closer to her.
"She is at peace now," I said, mostly to convince myself. "It is Gelassenheit." Not murder, I thought. Please, not murder . . .
He said nothing.
I tugged at his sleeve, pleading for him to affirm me. "She's at peace . . . God's will . . ." I whispered. It sounded like a question.
He choked and turned his head away. "This isn't Gelassenheit. This is a cruel God tormenting us."
"Don't say that," I said. I wanted to believe that what we had done was terrible but necessary. "I was always told that God smiles upon those who do his dirty work."
"Bonnet, I . . . I can't believe in an all-powerful being who would allow this . . . who wants this to happen. Screw your Gelassenheit."
I shrank back. I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, to try to blot it all out: the fire, the ache in my chest, the rings around my finger. And Alex's anger. I knew that it wasn't directed at me but at the easiest thing to blame. And that was God.
We passed the night without speaking further, watching Ginger burn from a safe distance. I thought I heard howling, and shivered. But I was determined to stay put, to make sure that the fire didn't burn out. I didn't have power over much, but I could ensure that Ginger's remains didn't fall to scavengers.
By silent agreement, we took turns on watch. Alex lay curled up on the ground, his head in my lap. I wore his coat around my shoulders.
I thought of how far I'd come. Not just in terms of miles, but how far I'd fallen from grace. I had given my heart and body to an English man. I had been placed under the Bann and cast out of my community. I had learned how to use weapons and how to kill. Except for the bonnet in my pocket, there was no sign of who I had been.
And Ginger was gone. I hoped that I could honor my promise to tell her husband and children goodbye for her. I hoped that the world would be set to rights and that I would be given that chance, to do something good for the woman who had loved me like one of her own children. The woman whom I'd just killed.
I sobbed, scrubbed at my eyes with my sleeve. It wasn't fair. I felt like screaming at God, like demanding answers. But I knew that he wouldn't answer me. He never answered me. He was just as distant and cold as the stars above.
I stared out into the night, and my breath caught in my throat when I saw a pair of glowing eyes staring back at me.
For a moment, I considered closing my eyes. Surrendering to the Darkness and letting this long nightmare be finished.
But I couldn't. It wasn't just me. I had to protect Alex. He was all I had left.
My hand crept down to the silver knife lying closed on the grass.
The eyes crept closer, and a creature of smoke and sinew came into the touch of the firelight.
Not a vampire. A wolf.
The animal warily approached, watching me with soft golden eyes. I recognized it from the Animal Farm-the smallest one who had just a bit too much gold on its chest, which made me think that there was some domestic dog in it. The one who had stayed behind after the others had left.
My hand moved away from the knife.
"It's all right," I whispered. "I won't hurt you."
I hoped that it wouldn't hurt me. My father had said that wolves were shy of people and the only hazard they posed was to unguarded cattle if they were hungry. But those were different times, and everyone was hungry.
At the very edge of the firelight, the wolf slowly and deliberately lay down. He did not break from my gaze once as he did so. I could see the tension and fear in his body. He didn't look as painfully skinny as he had the last time I'd seen him, and he looked clean.