Sam was absent from the conversation. His scowl proved that he was calculating countless facts in his mind. He remembered the tarot card with the personality. He remembered the young boy’s name and his obsession with the card that had seemed nothing short of evil. He remembered that the child was Romanian.
Sam’s dark eyes opened wide at the coincidences that were just too uncanny, but he felt reluctant to share his conclusion just yet, because it was still unclear what Petra wanted with this wild goose chase after a stolen deck of cards, especially now that he knew that it was of an occult nature.
“Sam,” Nina snapped him out of his pondering. “Did you hear the story about this man?”
“Nope,” he answered, and quite frankly he couldn’t care less.
“Petulka, come tell us about the theft a few years back, please,” Petra asked the housekeeper.
The plump woman who had brought Petra her fresh tea earlier entered the chamber with Igor behind her. He smiled and passed her, taking his place next to the object of his fixation who was sitting at the table waiting to hear the story.
“Well, when everybody was still busy with exploring of the well, the divers from the police came and there were people here all the time, helping with the excavation. Now, the staff, we talk amongst ourselves as you can imagine, just like other people do at work,” Petulka narrated with enthusiasm while the other sat frozen, listening. “There was this one man…good looking man…but he was restless. Like restless in the soul makes people mean,” she tried to explain in her terms, and Nina nodded to encourage her. “His name was Petr and soon we all realized there was something wrong with him. At night he would tell tales of his homeland and the village where he lived, near the Baciu forest. When he told us it was in Transylvania and that the place was known for being a place where other dimensions crossed into ours, we knew he was crazy…” she paused for dramatic effect, “…or a vampire.”
They all laughed and Petulka reveled in her delighted audience before she continued.
“He would tell us about Hoia Baciu…”
“Gesundheit!” Sam jested, evoking chuckling again.
“Hoya Batchoo, Mr. Cleave,” she grinned.
“Ah! Got it,” Sam nodded.
“Anyway, he told us that it is the most haunted forest in the world, where people walk in and never come out. Where strange lights float through the trees at night. Energy comes up from the ground and turn mild men into animals, and turn women into witches while brutes become peaceful,” she whispered loudly to give them the same show Petr used to give the Zbiroh staff.
Nina felt a thrill she had not known since childhood, listening to tales of mystery and intrigue. Sam sat frozen, but his mind was racing over little Radu while he entertained the storytelling with the occasional nod.
Petulka carried on with her story.
“One night he told us of his family, who lived near the forest, just on the edge and he said to us that they knew what the cards represented. The past, present and future…”
“So…tarot cards,” Sam interjected. He had known all along what they were, thanks to the young boy in his hospital room.
“…of the world,” she finished her sentence. “Tarot is normally used to predict a person’s future, but this unholy deck, Petr told us, could predict the fate of the world. He called it ‘The Black Tarot’.
Chapter 17 — The First Game
Radu ate himself into a stupor. At the hospital he had already wolfed down the bland food of mass prepared trays, but this meal was absolute ecstasy. Even at the hospital he looked forward to meals, having lived from hand to mouth for so long, so he felt like a king when the Hellers sat down to dinner with roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, creamed spinach and sweet carrots. There even was a side salad and pudding as well. Radu could not eat fast enough until his ribs felt like concrete slabs pressing against a swollen tummy.
“What is this?” he asked Greta Heller, holding up a forkful of spinach.
“Just eat it, Radu,” she said through her own chewing and she hastily swallowed to add, “and don’t wave your food around like that. It is very rude and only children with bad manners do that.”
He obeyed, eyeing the floppy dark green strands hanging limply over the silverware, dripping with thick white sauce. Whatever it was, it looked horrifying. Why could they not just give him a loaf of bread — food he recognized — with his chicken?
“What is it, then, Herr Heinz?” the young boy tried his luck with the grouchy alpha male in his best attempt at addressing him with a German title.
Heinz-Karl Heller had to admit that he was somewhat impressed at the child’s willingness to adapt, and even more so at his ability to figure out and make an effort in using linguistic details. Above that, the big old man secretly liked that the boy asked him what Greta would not tell him.
When Greta called Gabi, her housekeeper, to ask for some wine, Heinz shifted in his chair to whisper, “It is spinach. Very good for your health. Eat it.”
“I don’ like it,” Radu admitted whispering as well, and so the big German cast a glance to his wife with her back turned to them, and quickly scooped up the apparently repulsive vegetable from Radu’s plate onto his. Radu smiled, revealing a mouthful of slightly discolored teeth, while he quickly pushed his carrots over the smear left by Heinz’s abduction of the spinach.
Heinz gathered it all up in his fork and shoved it into his mouth just as Greta returned to the table. The two males chewed heartily as she sat down, only rapidly locking amused gazes with one another.
“Have you ever been to school, Radu?” Greta asked as she drank a sip of wine.
“No, Frau Heller. I don’t need school. I know everything there is to know about surviving,” he nodded assuredly.
“Oh, you think so?” she asked. “You know how to survive on the streets, yes, but do you know how to survive in the world you are living in now? This is a different world, with different rules and…” she looked at herself in the wall-mounted mirror behind the child, “…different villains.”
“Yes, if you cannot read or write, you can never learn anything new about places and things you encounter in this world you live in now,” Heinz mentioned, his tone far more amicable than it had been thus far.
“I can read and write. My mother taught me with books before she died,” Radu boasted.
The Hellers looked at each other. Greta, in particular, was concerned about this. She had hoped the boy’s illiteracy would give her a reason to feign his basic tuition, so that she could employ his arcane skills without anyone noticing. But with him knowing what he was writing or reading, the feat proved more complex.
“How much?” Heinz asked. Even he was surprised that he showed interest.
“Enough to sound out words and to write my name,” Radu said, and loaded his tongue with pudding.
“Well, I am going to give you some lessons myself,” Greta smiled.
Her husband stopped eating and frowned with his head tilted to one side. His wife, the socialite, philanthropist, busy business woman…was going to teach a disadvantaged street child to read and write?
“Just some, until he is ready to join others his age in school,” she smiled at Heinz, her tone light and reassuring.
“You want to put him in a public school?” Heinz asked.
“I don’t need school,” Radu said under his breath.
“Why not?” Greta asked.
Her husband tried not to voice his real concern in front of the child, but he spoke through his teeth, “Roma people…”
She knew full well that Roma people in general were shunned by most cultures, and even in Germany he would have a hard time in a public school. But Greta was merely keeping up the ruse she needed to get what she needed from Radu. She had no intention of enrolling him in school. His part in her end game was far too important.