Forgotten Ties...

Goulden Detectives

She stared out in front of her blankly, red-rimmed eyes focused on a point no one but she seemed to notice. The little girl in her arms looked up at her with the same dark blue eyes, she too with tears rolling down her cheeks. Their dark locks mingled in the wind, the older girl's, about 15, a shade darker. "Oh Lena..." she murmured. Suddenly her face hardened. "So unfair," she muttered angrily. The man in front of them turned and held a finger to his lips, an angry expression like a mask over his grieving face. Then he recognised the girls. "My condolences," he mumbled and turned back around. Though the man obviously knew who the girls were, they just stared at his back blankly, certain that they had never seen him before.

"Who is he, Kalyna?" the little girl asked.

"I don't know," Lyn answered quietly, rocking her sister reassuringly in her arms. That time they were shushed by a woman from behind. They didn't react.

Lyn pushed forward through the crowd, desperate to see the body one last time before it was buried. Lena clutched to her neck, still crying. Finally, they reached the front row. The body lay in a coffin, a grey blanket covering everything but the head to hide the stab marks. But no blanket could ever hide the marks in Kalyna's mind. She would never be able to blot out the picture of the body, the blood, so much blood... "Stop it!" she chided herself silently. But she couldn't. She would remember that scene forever. "Stupid photographic memory!" She took one last look at the body. A single stab mark was visible on his neck. Murdered. Her brother had been murdered.

There was probably nobody who hated the Grim Reaper as much as Kalyna: both her parents had died when she was 13, and now her brother at her 15. Her mother had gotten an unexpected fever and the family did not have sufficient money for medicine. A month later, her father had drowned at sea. Yes, it had been tragic, but people - especially strong people like Lyn, as her brother used to say - got over tragedies. Nothing had ever been like this though. This was her brother. Her brother who picked her up when she fell. Her brother who kissed her goodnight. Her brother who could always make her laugh. Her brother who she loved. And now he was gone.

And that was when Kalyna made her decision: she would avenge his death, no matter what.

Something in her expression must have changed, because Lena asked her what was wrong. "Nothing," Lyn answered brusquely, though not without fondness; the little 5 year old was the only family Lyn had left. At that thought, one last tear rolled down her cheek, before all the sadness was replaced with a burning anger.

Then the coffin was closed and lowered into the grave, though not before the blanket shifted, uncovering three stab marks, of which one of them lay a streak of powder, as if somebody had hastily tried to hide it but gave up almost immediately. Lyn squinted her eyes, but couldn't identify the powder from where she stood; she was too far away. She became even more cross when she saw this mysterious powder, only over one mark: as if the job had cost too much energy and her brother was not worth wasting it all on. She could almost imagine her own eyes shooting blue flames, burning the place down, that's how mad she was. "But no," she thought sorely, "my sister's tears would douse the fire before it even touched anything."

As soon as the funeral was over, Kalyna made a run for it, dragging Lena behind her. She needed to get away from all the death and tears, which threatened to drown her. Plus, she knew she wouldn't be able to contain her anger much longer, and before she exploded, she wanted to bring Lena home, which might not be home for much longer. But before she could even leave the gates of the cemetery, a rough hand grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around. "Man," she knew even before she looked. She was tempted to kick him but before she could make up her mind, she heard Lena ask: "Who are you?" Lyn recognized the man who had shushed them, and was instantly curious: even with her photographic memory she did not recall ever having seen him before today, yet he was at her brother's funeral.