The Rusalka
The venom in his voice startled Becky; made her take an involuntary step back. “I think you better go,” she said, using her own anger to bolster her courage.
She began to close door.
“I don’t think so,” Crow said, barging inside and pushing Becky aside. “You women are all the same. Always trying to trap us with some bullshit. Mila was the same. She thought she could trick me. Get my money. Thought a baby would be all it took to get her claws into me. Well,” he said, “I sure fixed her.”
Becky cowered back from Crow. He looked crazed. His jaw was bunching as he ground his teeth.
“What…” Becky asked, backing up. “What did you do?”
“What do you think?” Crow said, grinning, advancing on her.
“Oh my God,” Becky said in sudden realisation. “You killed her, didn’t you?”
Crow smiled.
Becky ran.
She wanted a weapon, a knife from the kitchen drawer, but Crow was on her heels and she didn’t dare stop. She would have shouted for Alex, but in his present state she didn’t want to alert Crow to his presence.
The garden snagged at her flesh, snaked around her ankles and tried to trip her with its tangles. It was a living green thing of nettles, weeds, thorns and brambles. They lashed at her; whipped at her skin.
Becky staggered; risked a glance back.
Crow was gaining.
“Bitch,” he snarled and lunged for her. She felt his spittle flecking the nape of her neck. She swerved; ran through a mass of weeds towards a glimpse of pond. Her breath burned in her lungs.
A shove sent her sprawling.
Becky cried out.
Crow grabbed her blouse and belt and dragged her, screaming, towards the pool.
He dropped her; flipped her.
“ I did Mila here,” he said, pinning Becky’s arms, straddling her, his hand covering her face and pushing her head backwards towards the algae and weed-choked water. “I held her under and watched her drown.”
Water flooded Becky’s ears.
In moments her face would be under the surface and it would be all over.
Crow paused and held her immobile above the water.
“Tell me how you knew?” he said. “Who told you about Mil—”
A sudden impact knocked Crow flying.
Becky whipped her head out of the water and saw Alex wrestling with the man. The two of them rolled through the weeds and long grass. Alex landed a couple of good, solid blows, but in his weakened state he was no match for Crow. Within moments Crow had him pinned down, his hands around Alex’s throat.
“Stop it,” Becky said, crawling forward, her hair hanging in her eyes. “Leave him alone.”
Crow looked up and grinned.
“I don’t think – ”
He didn’t finish.
His eyes flicked past Becky and the colour drained from his face, as his words choked off.
Becky turned, following his gaze, and she saw the woman he had called Mila, the woman who had been seducing Alex, ascend from the water.
Horrified, Becky stared, as the willowy, dark haired woman crossed the pond and stepped onto the bank and walked towards Crow.
Water poured from her, cascaded around her feet, as she cut through the weeds and nettles. There was nothing spectral or ethereal about her now. She looked complete, tangible and fully in the world. She still had the look of torment and despair: that transitory, intolerable sadness Becky had seen before, but now there was also a glare of anger, of rage, smouldering like green fire behind her eyes.
“I loved you,” Mila said.
Crow scrambled to his feet. “This is impossible,” he said backing away. “You’re dead.”
“Why Stewart? Why did you do it? I loved you.”
“This is a trick,” he said, his eyes frantic.
“You hurt me. You hurt our baby.”
“No, he said. “This is a trick,”
Crow ran at Mila. Slammed into her. Knocked her down; rained punches down upon her face and torso. “You’re dead,” he said. “You’re dead. You’re dead. You’re dead.”
“Stop it,” Becky said, yelling at Crow. “For God’s sake. Stop it.”
Blind to everything but his rage, Crow ignored Becky’s plea. He sat astride Mila with his thumbs locked tight against her windpipe.
Becky stood, her hand closing around a jagged triangle of rock, and crossed to him.
“ Stop it,” she said, as she lifted the rock from pond’s edge above her head and brought it down with all her might.
Blood sprayed her face.
It was over.
Mila was gone.
Becky crawled past Crow to Alex’s still form. She wrapped her arms around him; laid her head on his chest and cried. Alex’s heart beat against her ear, reassuring and steady.
“ I love you,” Alex said, his voice little more than a whisper. “I love you so much.”
“ I know,” Becky said, lifting her head. “I love you t—”
Alex was looking at the pond.