As White as Snow Read online

  Lenka opened her eyes and gave Lumikki a sharp look.

  “The only people allowed to know the Truth are the family members who believe. You don’t believe yet. You don’t even believe you’re my sister and you don’t believe the other things either.”

  Lumikki thought for a second. Then another. She began to reconsider her earlier decision not to tell Lenka yet about what she remembered, not so directly. Now, though, it looked like Lenka might stand up and walk out of Lumikki’s life without a backward glance. Lumikki couldn’t let that happen. It had happened to her too many times.

  Lenka’s voice was pure ice in the heat of the sun.

  “It might be better if we don’t see each other again. You’re going home soon to your mother. And your father. Your father. I was stupid to think that he could be my father too. I already have a father: Adam. I already have everything. I don’t need anything else.”

  No, no, no, Lumikki shouted inside, listening to the two-letter word reverberate in her mind. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t. Not again. She couldn’t keep letting the most important people in her life slip away.

  So Lumikki did something completely out of character. She took Lenka’s hands and squeezed them between her own. She looked Lenka straight in the eyes. The distance and chill melted in an instant.

  “I do believe you’re my sister.”

  Lumikki watched as her words sank in. Lenka’s hands began to tremble. Tears welled up in her eyes. Lumikki had to swallow a couple of times too. It was as if something black and heavy had been lifted off her chest. Finally. An answer. The truth. It was here.

  A group of noisy tourists walked by, but the twosome didn’t even notice. The heat and the sweat from the revelation curled the hair on the back of both their necks, but they didn’t feel a thing. They were so alone that it was like being in their own private world.

  Lenka hugged Lumikki tightly. Lumikki returned the embrace. She felt Lenka’s tears on her shoulder, where they mixed with her equally salty sweat. A startling joy filled Lumikki, the likes she hadn’t felt since losing Blaze.

  Coming to Prague and finding a sister. It was a miracle. It was a gift. Lumikki had to accept it because there’d never be another chance.

  When Lenka let go, Lumikki found herself naturally wiping away Lenka’s tears with the back of her hand. Again she had that déjà vu feeling of having done the same thing before, even though that didn’t seem possible. Maybe sharing the same genes, the same blood flowing in their veins somehow did bring an innate familiarity. Lumikki had never believed in things like that, but maybe it was time for her to reexamine her assumptions. So much had happened. So many big things.

  “I want you to come meet the family,” Lenka said.

  Lumikki wanted that too. Not because of the family, but because of Lenka, so she could make sure she was safe. And if she wasn’t safe, if the family was dangerous, she could save her sister.

  She had a sister she wanted to save. That thought felt surprisingly good to Lumikki.

  “But will they accept me?” she asked.

  “We won’t give them a choice,” Lenka said and smiled.

  Lumikki had never seen her smile so wide before, so happy and free.

  Once upon a time, there was a woman with a secret.

  Secrets have the intrinsic property that they stop being secrets if they are told to outsiders. The Secret is sacred. The Secret cannot be defiled by sharing it with anyone who does not understand the Secret.

  The woman had told. She thought she wanted to live without the family. She fled. She hid her new name and address from the family. She hid her child. Those were the wrong kind of secrets. Sinful secrets. And sinful secrets are always exposed, sooner or later.

  That was why the cold river water embraced the woman. It pulled her to the bottom. The water rocked the woman like a greedy lover. It kissed her lips and forced her mouth open. It filled her mouth and nostrils, entered her lungs and displaced the air. The water wanted her all to itself, to make her part of its cold kingdom where dark stories are told in quiet, lilting voices.

  The woman did not enter the water of her own free will or by accident. She was pushed. Sinners cannot float. They must be made to sink.

  And the wrong kind of secrets must sink with them.

  On the white plate were two boiled potatoes, two boiled carrots, a slice of meat, and a slice of plain bread. Nothing in the meal indicated the use of spices, herbs, or really that anyone had put any effort into making the food taste good or look appetizing. Not exactly Lumikki’s idea of Sunday dinner.

  The food was served in the large dining room next to the kitchen. Lumikki and Lenka had been sent straight to the table, but Lumikki’d had just enough time to identify three other large rooms on the lower floor. Rickety-looking wood stairs led up to where the bedrooms were. Lumikki hoped she’d get a chance to investigate the house more carefully, but no one was offering a tour quite yet.

  “Dinner won’t wait,” Lenka had whispered.

  Lumikki glanced at the others sitting around the long table. There were about twenty of them. The older ones were probably approaching eighty, the younger ones were just a year or two older than Lenka, who seemed to be the youngest. Everyone’s head was bowed for the prayer offered in Czech by Adam Havel, who sat at the head of the table. The prayer was long and Lumikki didn’t understand a word of it. She took advantage of the opportunity to examine the members of the cult, who were all dressed in white, slightly shabby linen garments. They were slender, even thin, which was no wonder if this was their most elaborate meal of the week. There were no other striking similarities, though—they didn’t look obviously related. However, they did all have on the same placid, slightly listless expression. They prayed intently, eyes closed.

  Everything in the house was a little shabby and worn. The old wallpaper was peeling and faded in places. The paint on the floorboards was chipped. The windows were cloudy, in serious need of a wash. The few furnishings could have used some fixing up. There were no pictures or paintings on the walls, not a single decoration or anything else unnecessary that might create a feeling of home. Nothing in the house indicated that anyone lived here. It felt as if they were in a deserted, run-down building. A sad picnic in an abandoned house.

  With his beard and bushy eyebrows, Adam Havel could best be described by the word “gray.” His hair and beard were gray and even his skin tone was a little grayish. Determining his precise age was difficult, but he might have been in his sixties, as Lenka had guessed. Lumikki couldn’t look at him without the strange feeling that his grayness was only a feigned lack of pretension. The purposefulness of his every movement reflected a strong will and a certain menacing quality. He was slim, but the muscles of his arms were well-defined. His hands clasped in prayer looked strong enough to strangle the life from a person.

  Suddenly, Adam Havel lifted his gaze in the middle of the prayer and his gray eyes locked on Lumikki. Quickly, Lumikki lowered her own eyes and stared at her lap. There was no reason to make the group’s leader any more suspicious of her.

  Lumikki was stunned she’d gotten into the house at all. The same woman who turned Lumikki away last time had stopped them at the gate. Again, Lenka launched into a heated exchange with her in Czech, and again it had looked to Lumikki like she’d made the journey for nothing. Then Adam Havel came out of the house, looked Lumikki over carefully, traded a few words with Lenka, and amazingly, they opened the gate.

  “What did you say to him?” Lumikki whispered to Lenka.

  Lenka shrugged.

  “I just said you were my sister and wanted to eat dinner with us. Adam thought that was a good idea.”

  Watching the ramrod-straight back of the man walking in front of her from the gate to the house, Lumikki sensed she needed to be very wary of him.

  The prayer finally ended and Adam gave the signal to start eating. Around the table, it was perfectly quiet apart from the clink of knives and forks against the plates. All ther
e was to drink was lukewarm water. Lumikki sliced off a piece of potato and a piece of meat and placed them in her mouth. Neither had any salt.

  Apparently, Adam noticed Lumikki’s expression, because he began speaking loudly in English.

  “You may be wondering why our food is so plain. And our lifestyle in general. We believe in all things that are pure and original. Simplicity is our rule. The fewer distractions a person has, the closer he can be to God. That is why we have no televisions, no telephones, no electronic devices, and no books. We do not flavor our food. Sometimes we burn incense, but only to cleanse our sense of smell. We believe that the human mind is best able to receive the sacred when it is as clean and white as the freshly driven snow.”

  Lumikki looked at the members of the family, who nodded solemnly at Adam’s words. They didn’t look miserable or oppressed. They looked tranquil and close-knit. They clearly believed they had something no one else had. For a fleeting moment, Lumikki envied them.

  The group members began speaking to each other in hushed tones.

  “What are they talking about?” Lumikki asked Lenka quietly.

  “We’re reviewing the events of the day. Those who work are talking about that, and the others are describing what they did at home.”

  The discussion flowed peacefully. Lumikki studied the people’s expressions, but it was impossible to deduce anything. No one smiled, no one seemed angry. Did the group’s concept of sanctity also include not showing emotions? Not having emotions?

  Once the day’s events had apparently been compared, the meal ended in silence. No one asked anything of Lumikki or seemed to comment on her in any way. The mood was dreamlike, simultaneously languid and unnerving. Lumikki tried to make eye contact with Lenka every now and then, but she just stared at her plate.

  Once everyone had eaten, Adam said something in Czech and everyone joined hands. An old, slightly shaky man took Lumikki’s left hand, and Lenka took her right.

  “What’s going on?” Lumikki whispered.

  “This is the sin circle,” Lenka replied. “Everyone is going to confess their sins from this week.”

  Lumikki didn’t have a chance to reply before the confessions began. If the prayer over the food had felt long, the sin circle dragged on for ages. Lumikki couldn’t comprehend how such austere, puritanical people had managed to commit enough sins to necessitate these long confessions. At the end of each one, the circle raised their joined hands for a moment and then lowered them again. That must have had something to do with receiving forgiveness for their misdeeds.

  Finally, the circle reached Lumikki. She smiled politely, shaking her head and trying to defer to the next person, but that wasn’t an option.

  “Everyone has to admit their sins,” Adam said gently, training his eyes on Lumikki.

  It occurred to Lumikki what surprisingly good English Adam spoke. In fact, she didn’t hear any Czech accent at all.

  “I don’t feel like I’ve sinned,” Lumikki replied.

  “Everyone sins. Every day.” The gentleness had disappeared from Adam’s voice.

  “If that’s true, then it’s a personal matter. I don’t want to share it with anyone else.”

  A young man with a handsome face said something. Adam turned to stare at Lumikki again and translated, “We don’t have personal matters here. We share everything.”

  The mood around the table had suddenly turned threatening. Everyone’s eyes were focused on Lumikki. Lenka looked at her too, but her gaze was pleading and she squeezed Lumikki’s hand reassuringly.

  Lumikki’s neck began to sweat. She didn’t like this at all. She wanted to get out of here. Right now.

  “Thank you for dinner, but I need to be going now,” she said, and tried to stand up.

  However, the grip of the old man sitting next to her was surprising strong and he managed to force Lumikki back into her chair. In the meantime, Adam had risen and hurried over to Lumikki in a few long strides. He laid his hand on Lumikki’s shoulder, heavy and forceful.

  “If you don’t want to confess your sins here, you will do it in the sinner’s cell,” he said calmly.

  “Where?” Lumikki asked, glancing at Lenka, who just shook her head.

  “The sinner’s cell is for those who need time to contemplate their transgressions,” Adam said.

  Lumikki didn’t like the sound of his soft voice. She jerked away and shot up, but several hands seized her as if on command.

  “Not the cell!” Lenka screamed.

  Lumikki had just enough time to see Lenka’s eyes fill with tears before she was carried by her arms and legs out of the dining room, despite fighting back with all her strength. Lenka’s eyes seemed to beg for forgiveness.

  Adam Havel pulled up the photograph on his smartphone even though he already knew he was right. It was the same girl. The same short hair and slightly tough, superior expression. What he hadn’t guessed was how hard she would struggle. It had taken several men to finally subdue her. As soon as Adam saw her at the gate, he’d known she was the one they were supposed to eliminate. Of course he wouldn’t do it himself, because that would have startled the others. So he had asked the girl in, and she walked into the trap like a lamb to the slaughter. Adam had known it would just be a matter of time before she turned difficult and gave him an excuse to put her in the sinner’s cell.

  Was she really Lenka’s sister? Actually, Adam didn’t care. He had clear instructions to get rid of her, and that made the issue of lineage moot. Besides, Lenka had always been a bit odd, living more in her imagination than reality. Not that it really bothered Adam. It made Lenka easier to control than her mother, who had fled when she got pregnant and tried to live a normal life. That didn’t work for the family, though. No one left the family. It was too dangerous for outsiders to know the family’s business.

  Finding Lenka’s mother had turned out to be surprisingly difficult, even though she lived in the same city. It took nearly fifteen years, but Adam had finally succeeded in tracking her down, and she paid for her sins. Drowning was so appropriate for sinners. Plus, it looked like an accident and was recorded as such in the official statistics.

  Adam browsed his phone in the basement, behind a locked door like always. Of course, the prohibition on electronic devices didn’t apply to him, but the others didn’t need to know that. They needed to stay as strong and pure in their faith as possible.

  Adam wrote a message saying that the girl could be picked up from the small stone hut in the yard. He would leave the key by the back stairs. The pickup should be staged to make it look like the girl ran away, since otherwise the disappearance would cause needless curiosity among the family. He promised to keep the others in the prayer room at the other end of the house for the next hour. Adam sent his message to the woman who would forward it on to the hit man. They’d set things up that way so the orders would always come from the same source.

  For a moment, Adam toyed with the idea of actually confessing all of his evil deeds in the sin circle. Would it make him feel better? Not likely. First, he didn’t even believe in the concept of sin. And second, he was pretty sure that he’d only feel better once the job was done and he was far away from here.

  The gray rag in Lumikki’s mouth tasted worse by the minute. Its taste matched its appearance: dusty, nauseating, rancid, filthy. Rough, tightly bound ropes chafed her ankles and wrists.

  The sinner’s cell lived up to its name. It was a stone hut barely three feet by three feet that they’d built at the back of the yard. No chair. On the wall, there was only a crucifix and Lumikki’s own backpack, which hung on a nail just high enough that she couldn’t reach it with her hands tied. Near the ceiling was a small window through which you could marvel at the blue of the sky. The door was locked from the outside.

  Lumikki had already tried for a while to loosen her bonds or find something she could use to rub through them. It was hopeless. Pressing the back of her head against the wall, she rubbed up and down, left and right. Th
e rag bound tightly around her mouth didn’t move. It didn’t even budge. Lumikki did her best to ignore the taste.

  She stood up, even though it was difficult with her ankles bound so tight. She tried to see how high she could jump. Only a couple of inches. That wouldn’t help anything. On her third attempt, she lost her balance and fell, smacking her tailbone against the stone floor. Tears of pain welled up in her eyes.

  Lumikki stayed there on the floor, gathering her strength. She had already wasted too much energy. Controlling her panic was difficult. She had survived all sorts of things, even being trapped in a freezer, but right now she didn’t feel like her luck was going to hold. She’d never escape.

  Lumikki lifted her eyes to the crucifix. Jesus looked back with big, sad eyes. If there were ever a good time to pray, this would probably be it. Lumikki didn’t, though, because she didn’t believe anyone would hear.

  The sky outside the small window looked achingly beautiful.

  Lumikki felt the bland meal she’d just eaten churning in her stomach and trying to come back up. She forced herself to swallow, even though that meant tasting the rag. Worrying about vomiting would only increase the nausea. She had to do something to keep her thoughts and panic in check.

  Stand up. Bracing her back against the opposite wall, Lumikki lifted her legs and sent the soles of her feet flying against the door. It didn’t budge. Lumikki repeated the attack three times. Nothing. Sitting back down on the floor, she gathered her strength again and thought.

  What if she scooted up so her back was against one wall and her feet were against the other? Would she be able to inch herself up to the backpack or even the window? Could she break the window or push it open?

  Lumikki didn’t bother calculating probabilities because she already knew the odds were not in her favor. And probability had never helped her get away from anything before. Lumikki had managed her escapes through persistence, patience, and never giving up.

  Lumikki didn’t want to think about what Adam Havel had in mind for her, but she couldn’t help herself. She didn’t trust him one bit. If Jaro’s death hadn’t been an accident, as Lumikki firmly believed, then presumably there would be no reason to let her live either. Would he strangle her himself? Or would he send someone else to do it? Would they kill her in the sinner’s cell or take her somewhere else for execution?