"Eating nothing but berries and a bowl of soup every two days is no good." Vitalis continued, looking over the crates of plums and apricots, a swarm of fruit flies roaming around them.

"I want to save money..." Garofița said, looking at the frozen burgers, meatballs and hummus bowls.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't. But you can't budget your way out of poverty. Trust me, I tried. But you can stay full even with just a couple lei."

"It's alright if I don't eat every day, I'm used to it."

Vitalis glanced at Garofița, whose face was completely serene about what she just said. She looked away when Garofița turned to look back at her.

"What else do you want to buy?" She asked instead.

"I don't know..." She looked down at the basket. There was the chocolate, a pita, a can of pork pâté and two cans of baked beans. Vitalis said she could gather cans over time and eat as needed, put them in a dark corner of the house she squatted in.

"I don't have to put them in the fridge?" Garofița asked.

"Nah. They're made for cupboards and stuff." Vitalis said.

"Oh, right..."

"I don't really want anything else." She said back in the present.

"You can get things you like to eat." Vitalis said. "Like a little treat from time to time. It'll keep you sane. Eating nothing but peanut butter and ramen will keep you alive, sure, but it'll make you feel miserable."

"What do you like to eat?" Garofița smiled under the mask, crinkling her eyes.

Vitalis pouted and looked ahead into the distance, at the plain white walls and floor, putting much thought into her answer.

"Cherry tomatoes."

"Tomatoes?"

"The really tiny ones, like candies." She smiled, deep lines around her mouth.

"I like nigiri sushi." Garofița said.

"Ain't you a fancy bitch."

"Could I make it myself?"

"I guess. If you can find the salmon and rice and whatever they use."

"Sushi uses rice with a special kind of vinegar."

"Maybe we can find it when it's the Asian week at Lidl."

There were other early shoppers at the store at the same time as them, mostly old people, up and about as soon as the sun rose like they had insomnia. Garofița moved quickly to dodge them and step out the way, trying to keep up with Vitalis who was marching forward towards the cashier.

"I'll pay." She said, leaving no space for argument.

"I'll pay you back!" Garofița hurried to her side.

"At the camp." She compromised.

There was only one line open out of three. Garofița arranged the products on the conveyor belt. A man in line behind them coughed really loud, startling her. When she turned to look he was grossly wiping his mouth. There was a woman in line too, who gave her a hostile up-and-down look. Was it directed at her or at Vitalis? Or both? Vitalis wore her old coat, imbued with nicotine, skin burnt by the sun and her scuffed hat, worn even when it was hot. Garofița thought she herself still looked like an average civilian, albeit with greasy hair.

Garofița turned away, shoulders close, wondering if she did something wrong again. Vitalis looked at her, looked at the line, and pushed Garofița by the shoulder to switch places, putting herself between Garo and the rest of the shoppers.

The cashier was a middle aged lady, very tanned and with long pink nails.

"Hey, girl!" She greeted Vitalis.

"All good?" Vitalis asked.

"Could be better."

"Could also be worse."

Vitalis paid while Garofița put everything in the plastic bag, hurrying to not keep anybody in line waiting after her. Her face burnt when the chocolate slipped out of her hand and the cashier side-eyed her.

"Let's go to the camp, then to Amante." Vitalis said as she lit a cigarette outside.

"Alright!" Garofița hopped down the concrete steps in front of the store. She kept her promise to avoid Amante, but if Vitalis said it's ok to go, then she went too.

"Need help?" She pointed to the bag.

"No, I can carry it!"

The town woke up, people heading to church or to do errands. Some greeted Vitalis, asking her how she was doing, or just nodding in acknowledgement. A lot of people in Ferești knew her. Garofița supposed that if she was always seen with her, people would assume she was homeless too. Which she was. Vitalis insisted she stay clean and presentable like she wasn't homeless, which was Garofița's plan as well, but it was hard sometimes. She always wore the same thing like a cartoon character. Garofița made up her mind to ask Bea or Roxi with help to wash her hair.

At the encampment they entered Vitalis' tent and split up the goodies. Garofița paid back what she owed, and Vitalis handed half back.

"N-No, I counted right..." Garofița said.

"Keep it. I'll eat from them too."

"It's not fair..."

"You don't refuse gifts, don't be dumb."

They opened the chocolate bar. It was very smooth. Garofița looked around Vitalis' tent as she ate, at the few belongings that were visible. Save for some ash, it was clean and organised. In a corner, under a fanny pack, was what looked like a large book, with a grey cover made of fabric.

Vitalis saw her looking and stretched to grab it. "Wanna see?" She grinned, mouth full.

Garofița swallowed before speaking. "What is it?"

Vitalis set the book over her folded leg, closest to Garofița, kissing the chocolate off her finger before flipping it open. It was a stamp album!

"It's so cute!" Garofița said.

"I've been collecting since I was your age." Vitalis said, resting her cheek against her fist. "Not seriously, just the ones I find with nice designs."

"They're like little paintings!"

"Yeah!" She said and then sighed. "It's one of the only things I took with me everywhere I went."

Garofița looked at Vitalis, expecting her to tell more. But she just shut the album and prepared to take out another cigarette.

"Let's go to Amante."

The street where the restaurant/club were located was quiet at that hour, as you couldn't easily reach the churches through it. Vitalis said no church-goers pass by Amante in general.

Inside they found Roxi, Mihai and Gabi, gathered around the bar. They were the only people there, as usual, and the latter looked visibly miffed by something.

"What's the matter?" Vitalis asked first. "Who sunk your ships first thing in the morning?"

"Mr Ozsvar wants to go to the Sunday market." Gabi said.

"Like, right now?"

"In 20 minutes."

"The market in Hidiș?"

"Yeah."

"That one's pretty nice, ain't it?"

"An earlier warning would have been nice." Gabi grumbled.

"Aren't you used to him yet?"

"Who is Mr Ozsvar?" Garofița whispered to Roxi.

"Mr Ozsvar is Gabi's supervising professor, the guy he's writing his master paper with." She whispered back, but louder. "He's pretty cool, but really demanding. I think Gabi has a crush on him, lowkey."

"No, I don't!!" Gabi blushed furiously.

"They're in a homoerotic love-hate academic relationship." Mihai said. "Get it right."

"You'll go by bus?" Vitalis asked, not letting him yell at Mihai.

"N-No, he will drive us." Gabi abruptly slowed his horses.

"Then the fuck are you complaining about?"

"He always does this!" He gestured broadly with his hands. "He's allergic to telling me things in advance. Gabriel, pack up, we're going to the woods in 10 minutes. Dude, it's 3 am!!"

"Professors can do that?" Garofița asked.

"He does what he wants!"

"At least he drives you." Roxi shrugged.

"When will you start driving again, anyway?" Vitalis asked.

"Dunno, honestly. I'm still anxious." He said.

Mihai handed Garofița a glass of peach juice. "Here you go!"

"Thank you!" She said. "Why are you anxious?" She turned to Gabi.

"I'm kinda not allowed to drive for a while." He replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "I hit a deer... It survived, but the car didn't."

His phone started ringing, and he pulled it out of his pants pocket. The ringtone was the chorus from "Liar" by Korn. He went into the kitchen to answer.

"Are y'all going to the market too?" Vitalis asked, grabbing the bottle Roxi handed her.

"Nah, we gotta clean the apartment." Roxi replied.

"Yipeee." Mihai added with no enthusiasm.

"The Sunday market sounds fun!" Garofița smiled.

"Wanna go?" Roxi asked.

"C-Can I?"

"Why not?" Vitalis said.

"W-Wouldn't I bother the professor...? And Gabi?"

"With what?" She shrugged, bringing the bottle to her lips. "You're more suited for Gabi's degree than Gabi is, to be honest."

"Maybe Garo will become a cryptozoologist too!" Roxi grinned.

Garofița looked between them, her heart suddenly swelling with excitement. She'd love to do that! She quickly deflated when she remembered she was in hiding, and you can't really attend college while presumed dead.

"She's already got a cryptid-thing on her." Vitalis nodded in Garofița's direction.

"Huh?" Garofița snapped from her thoughts.

"Your spider, girl." Vitalis said.

"O-Oh! Right!" She babbled.

"What, you got more since then?"

"Uh, uhm, no, haha..."

Vitalis squinted at her a little bit.

"What kind of spider you got?" Mihai asked.

"It's, uhm, it's a spider that can change between, uh, appearances, and it's immortal. When it dies, it comes back in another form. And it's been kind of following me around, appearing out of nowhere."

Mihai and Roxi stared at her, blinking one after the other.

"Is it, like,... here right now?"

"I don't know." Garofița said, holding up her arm. She noticed the spider appeared when she thought about it a lot. So a telepath too.

Sure enough, a spider emerged from her sleeve, calmly walking on the back of her palm.

"Oh my gosh!" Roxi stepped backwards.

"It's not mean!" Garofița rushed to explain. "It's... it's just kind of hanging out."

"That's... odd." Mihai said. "Never seen anything like it. Not me, at least."

"Me even less." Roxi added.

"As long as it doesn't hurt you, I say it's fine." Vitalis took another sip.

Garofița nodded.

"Did you give it a name?" Roxi tried to smile.

"Oh, uh, this one is Dog!"

She blinked slowly again. "Dog?"

"Y-Yeah, I thought it would be funny to name it after an animal that it's, uh, not. Another one of the forms I named Cat."

"Are they all like that?"

"No, there's also Gleep, and, uh, Blonker."

"You should get a scholarship for cryptozoology just for that!" Mihai laughed.

"They've handed them out for less." Vitalis waved her hand.

"Did Gabi get a scholarship too?" Garofița asked.

"Yeah, but his circumstances were less fun." Roxi sighed. "Gabi's parents died in a car accident."

"Oh God, I'm so sorry!"

"Yeah, it was really sudden. May they rest in peace."

"Amen. Is that the accident...?"

"Oh, no, it was years before that one. The deer incident was, like, a couple weeks before you arrived in town, actually."

"Oh. So two car accidents."

"I know, right?"

"More shit has happened to Gabi in 5 years than it happens to other people their whole lives." Mihai said.

"I'm surprised he didn't go mad." Vitalis said.

"What did I do?" Gabi returned from the kitchen.

"You're an orphan." She bluntly said.

"Oh, that." He casually said. "I mean yeah, I'm kinda the last living member of my immediate family."

"Condolences..." Garofița said.

"Thank you!" He gave a gentle smile. His gaze lowered to Garofița's hand and his eyes opened wide. "Don't freak out, but there's a spider on you."

"I know!" She said, trying to pet its back with her finger.

"So anyway, change of plan!" Gabriel groaned. "I'm leaving in 15 minutes."

"Garo, you wanna go then?" Vitalis asked her.

"You wanna come too?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Uh, uhm, I would like to go to the Sunday market. If I may." Garofița said.

"Sure you can!"

"Just, uh, I just wanna take my things home." She gestured to the bag.

"I'll tell Mr Ozsvar to wait." He grinned.

Garofița took off towards her house. She learned the town well by then. The encampment - Amante - Mrs Delia's store - her house.

"I'm gonna go out for the day!" She told her pets, setting out some food, hiding the rest in her backpack to Buddy's dismay, and grabbing a lot of money from her stash. "I'm going to a market!"

She put Dog on the windowsill, kissed Buddy's head, kissed Bezea's forehead, and ruffled Walker's head.

"See you soon!" She skipped down the street.

When she returned to Amante, there was a very shiny dark grey Dacia Sandero parked in front of the entrance. Gabriel told her she didn't have to run.

"I didn't want to keep you waiting." She panted, fixing the mask on her face.

"I told you to have a treat from time to time, but don't break the bank now." Vitalis said, leaning against the wall of the restaurant.

"I won't!" She giggled.

Garofița sat in the backseat, behind Gabi's passenger seat. Everybody said it was fine and she trusted them, and Gabi would be there, so she didn't feel too scared of Mr Ozsvar.

He was a short man in his late 50s or early 60s, who looked like a Siamese cat. His nose was pointy, almost a perfect triangle from her point of view. He had dark blue eyes and rounded eyebrows, giving him a proud and aloof expression. He had deep wrinkles by his mouth and over his forehead, and long eyelashes like a girl. His black hair was greying and slightly receding.

He wore small glasses and a trenchcoat long like a robe, in a dark petroleum green colour. Gabi wore a plain white t-shirt and jeans in a really pretty shade of blue. Garofița looked down at the clothes she had been wearing for days in a row. She told herself to get new ones.

"Hello, dear." Mr Ozsvar said, not much interest in his voice.

"Hello, Sir!" She said.

"Gabriel told me you'd join us at the market. Stick close to us, alright?"

"I will, Sir!"

"Garo, you can take your mask off." Gabi said.

"Alright..."

"Isn't it hard to breathe with it all the time?"

"I'm used to it."

"You can grab a fresh one from the box over there." Mr Ozsvar said.

"T-Thank you, Sir!" Garofița nodded, and looked. There were black face masks, still in the package, a relic of the pandemic.

"You'll look trendier in black." He said with the same indifference.

The car rolled down the narrow streets, then up the express way. On one side were houses, and on the other side were the backs of buildings in the town center. As it climbed up the hill, they went from seeing into people's windows to seeing above their roofs. Garofița recognised they would pass the encampment and stretched her neck to see, but the weeping willow covered it from prying eyes like hers.

"Mr Chereji is out today." Mr Ozsvar said. "I want to see if we can find anything to help us out in our investigation."

"If anybody has something, it's probably him." Gabriel said.

"I also want to buy house slippers for myself." He said. "And whatever else catches my eye..." He trailed off the last word as he drove through an intersection.

"Garo, do you want anything?" Gabi asked her.

"I just want to look!" She said. "I, uh, I've never been to a Sunday market before."

"Whaaat!" He said. "That's a crime!"

She giggled. Up until she ran away from home, she didn't go outside much, and when she did, it was never by herself. Of the marketplace in her old town, her parents said it was full of trash and rags and people of too many ethnicities (using worse words than that). Garofița always liked the idea of a Sunday market, strolling through all the beautiful old things, exploring for hours, uninterrupted. The thrift store wasn't as magical as the ones she saw online, but maybe the market would be!

"Got any news about Dorel?" Mr Ozsvar asked and Garofița's ears perked up.

"Nope." Gabi said, slouching in his seat. "It's like the earth cracked open and swallowed him whole. Nobody can find him anywhere."

Mr Ozsvar hummed. "He's smarter than anybody gave him credit for."

"Dorel from, uh, the cult?" Garofița asked.

"Yeah, him." Gabi said.

"The Seekers of the Forgotten Truth." Mr Ozsvar added.

"Those dumbasses..."

"There may be a seed of truth in their beliefs. At least in who they worshipped."

"Yay for me..."

Gabriel's degree was in cryptozoology, with a focus on the spiritual side: creatures of realms beyond our own that get lost or are purposefully brought in, demons, angels, spirits and possessions. His bachelor's degree was on the Jersey Devil, with case studies on other cursed children. His master's degree was going to be on cults and the beings they (try to) worship.

Mr Ozsvar was educated in the school of Doctor Balint-Rățoi, which meant hands-on research. He demanded global knowledge, not just the little niche Gabi chose. He tasked him with studying all sorts of topics connected to the supernatural, other cryptids and various species, as it was never just one neat little thing that could be easily put in a clearly defined box. What goes bump in the night is as varied as human culture, part of it and tangled with it.

Garofița told them about her spider with this occasion, and presented Pickle on her wrist. It had a neutral face on its body that day.

Mr Ozsvar looked at it from the side of his eye. "It's probably a forest spirit." He said.

"Probably?" Garofița retracted her hand.

"I'd have to look at it properly to tell."

"A-Alright."

"... Sir, please use your turn signal." Gabi said.

"Oops." Mr Ozsvar mumbled. "I'll do it next time."

"I don't feel like dying anytime soon, just so you know."

"I'm more likely to die in an accident than you are."

Garofița sat quietly in the backseat, feeling extremely awkward. She wished she didn't know how Gabi's parents died.

Hidiș was a village between Ferești and Călimari, nestled in the woods. Every Sunday, on a large plot of land, was the Sunday market, where anybody could sell everything and anything. Take your things, bring yourself a chair and set up shop.

By the time they arrived the parking lot was full beyond capacity, so people left their cars on the surrounding field, on the unpaved ground and even between the trees. A constant stream of people walked back and forth on the narrow pavement, in between the cars, no care if they got run over.

"You should have gone the other way, there's no space left!" Gabriel said, pointing with his hand forward.

"Somebody will drive out eventually." Mr Ozsvar impassively said.

"We're gonna get stuck!!"

The car shook left and right on the uneven terrain, Garofița having to hold onto the door and seat for balance. Pickle clung for dear life. An old granny, questionably aware of her surroundings, wobbled right between their moving car and another parked one.

"Jesus fucking Christ, be careful!" Gabi shouted. "You'll crush her!"

"If she walks around where she shouldn't!" Mr Ozsvar scoffed.

"What is wrong with you, genuinely?!"

Garofița really wanted out.

Eventually they found a parking spot. She almost ran out of the car, then put Pickle down on the grass, fixed her mask and patiently waited for them to stop arguing.

"We have to walk so much..." Mr Ozsvar sighed.

"God forbid you exercise." Gabi said.

At last they arrived.

Professor Ozsvar Josef, natural sciences college dean and cryptozoology expert.

Eghedi Gabriel, cryptozoology student.

Gavrilescu Garofița, amateur cryptozoologist and temporary assistant.

The Sunday Market was gigantic. The sea of people and stalls and umbrellas seemed to stretch all the way to the horizon, a deafening murmur of talking, laughing, cassette music and vendors hollering their pitches. A man selling corn on the cob filled the air with its sweet flavour. There were tool kits and discs and chainsaws, entire sections of cleaning products, entire libraries of books, jewellry in every shape and colour, old and slightly less old furniture, tents full of clothes on hangers, tables full of clothes to dig through, shoes, fishing tools, cow bells, curtains and carpets, wooden spoons, electric guitars, decorative trees in pots and Dior perfume bottles.

Garofița's heart was beating out of her chest, the sun was beating in her eyes, the new mask was tugging down on her nose and she had to constantly zig-zag out of people's way together with Gabriel. She was overstimulated beyond belief, but there were so many things!! She wanted to run around, but Gabi was holding her hand.

Eventually they found an area with less traffic. Some people put their wares on display straight on the ground, others had them on tables, and some had them in cardboard boxes for you to dig. There were boxes of plates and fine china, boxes of children's toys, and boxes of whatever random shit people wanted to get rid off.

"Can we look there? Can we?" She squeezed Gabi's hand when she saw boxes full of books.

"I want to go there too." Mr Ozsvar said.

The books were all upright, with their spines hidden, so you had to pick them up to see what you got. The first book Garofița picked up had a fainting woman being caught by a burly man on the cover, and she immediately put it back.

Mr Ozsvar got bored quickly and told them to keep moving. Garofița wanted to suggest she will stay behind while they went about their business, but thought they'd probably say "no" and stood up dejected.

As she was about to leave the boxes, she saw a tome that was placed back improperly, bent in half over two smaller books. She reached to fix it and recognised the cover designs underneath.

"Gabi! Can I buy these ones?" She asked.

"How much for the books?" Gabi called out to the vendor. Garofița held both of them up.

"10 lei each!" The man replied.

20 lei for two pocket books..., Garofița thought and her arms slowly lowered in resignation.

"Gimme that." Gabi said, walking closer to the vendor. "I'll give you 10 for both. Come on, look at them."

The man sighed and accepted. Garofița hopped in place.

"You gotta barter!" He told her as he returned.

"What if they refuse?" She asked, holding the books close to her chest.

"Then we'll look somewhere else!"

The three of them toured the market for a while, "window-shopping". Some people sold what they had for suspiciously cheap, while others refused to barter at all, 50 or 100 lei for a mass-produced Chinese vase from the communist era.

Garofița crouched to look at a framed piece of embroidery. A rose bush with a spider web, white and silver beads along the silk.

Her spider came out of her sleeve, in its golden form which she nicknamed "G.A.D." ("Goated Among Dogs"). It reached for the embroidery, waving its front legs. Garofița smiled and put her hand closer, letting G.A.D. climb on the glass. She was growing fond of the little thing.

"Garo!" Gabriel called out.

Garofița stood up and ran to catch up, certain G.A.D. or one of its other shapes would reappear soon.

"Let's stick together, okay?" He said.

"Sorry!"

"It's fine. It's just that Vitalis will kill me if I lose you." He laughed. "One time when I was 9 years old, I got stranded in Budapest for 5 hours."

"What? How? What happened?"

"I don't know, man! I looked away for 5 seconds and my family was gone! I was babysat by this old lady called Frujina. She was really nice, though."

"Gabriel, the two of you can walk ahead of me." Mr Ozsvar said, stopping to talk with an acquaintance.

Garofița opened her mouth to say "alright".

"Don't keep us here until nightfall, okay?" Gabi replied.

Garofița closed her mouth.

The area they entered had antiques and "the good stuff", as Gabi put it. The kind of legitimate vintage furniture, lampshades, porcelain trinkets and crystal glasses she would admire on pinterest. The prices refused to budge, and many vendors had their own little structures like houses, or storage basements leading down into the earth.

"There used to be wine cellars here." Gabriel explained.

There were also less shoppers walking around, so they could part ways without fear of getting lost.

Garofița's eyes were caught by a stand full of all sorts of things, not just one kind of finery. In a corner there were ceramic figurines, adorable little teddy bears.

The stall was overseen by one lone vendor. It was an old man who was tall and skinny, twigs for arms and slightly hunchback, or perhaps he just had bad posture. His skin was olive, almost green-tinted, and his hair was all white, gathered in a low ponytail. His face was angular with a crooked nose and sharp cheekbones, and one of his eyes was all pink, staring into nothing and half-lidded. The healthy eye was the darkest brown. He wore khaki pants and a short-sleeved checkered shirt in white, brown and green.

Despite his sickly appearance, he was oddly charismatic. Like any good salesman, he immediately clocked that Garofița was looking at his wares and invited her closer with a theatrical flourish that made her giggle.

"Come, young lady, come look! Please do!"

"I don't have any money on me." She quietly said.

"Then you can look without causing any damage to your wallet!"

"Everything you have is so pretty!"

"Thank you, dear! You can look as much as you want."

"Thank you...!"

"These teddy bears are all from an old madame's collection, Miss Anca. She claimed she was collecting them for her niece to play with, but really they were for herself to enjoy."

"Hehe, I'd do the same."

"Not many people care about such sentimental details, but I believe that's what makes them even more special. To know the other hands they have been passed through, who once had them and cherished them."

"I like that too! I-I like it when old books have dedications or little notes in them."

"What a coincidence! So do I!" He laughed like a fox. Garofița furrowed her brows for a second. "I could tell from a distance that you were the kind of person who would appreciate such things."

"Really?"

"Why, yes! There is something about certain people, where you take one look at them and you just know they have a refined, graceful soul."

Garofița smiled and blushed behind her mask.

"There you were." Gabriel said, coming to their side, startling Garofița.

"Welcome!" The salesman said.

"Gabi...!" Garofița turned to face him, taking hold of a strand of her hair.

Gabriel looked at the old man and squinted a little. "... do I know you?"

"Do you?" The man smiled.

"Gabi, can we look here a little bit?" Garofița asked.

"Yeah, sure." He nodded, then rubbed his thumb against his index finger, trying to stimulate his memory. No results were yielded. "... are you, uhm, an acquaintance of professor Ozsvar, Sir?"

"I do business with him quite often, yes." The man said. He picked up a black leather belt and put a piece over his bad eye like an eyepatch.

Gabriel gasped in realisation.

"Mr Chereji!"

"You're as sharp as ever, Mr Eghedi." He laughed softly.

"Sorry! Sorry! I've been a bit of a mess these past few days!" He laughed too, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What did Josef make you do this time?"

"Investigate the cult that got busted in Călimari."

"The Seekers of the Forgotten Truth?"

"Yep."

"Didn't you also perform some baptisms for them in Călimari?"

"Yeah, and I got bonked in the head, live on camera."

"At least there is video evidence! And who else to study them but somebody with first-hand experience, no?"

"I guess..." He sighed.

While they talked, Garofița merrily looked around the teddies. Their poses and costumes were so intricate. The more she looked the more details she found, sculpted into the ceramic. Fabric ruffles, stitches, clothing hems, flower petals, basket weaving, umbrella pleats. She was almost scared to pick them up, they were too beautiful to be touched.

"I genuinely didn't recognise you, Sir." Gabriel said. "In normal clothes and everything."

"I only dress up and eyepatch-up when I have to deal with schmucks with money." Mr Chereji said. "They freak out when they see my eye. Not my fault a neighbour's kid threw a rock at me when I was little, but oh well! People are vain and cruel."

"You could say some artefact did it to you!"

"I did, for a while. I honestly prefer selling here, among regular folk. Here people actually stop and talk to you, ask how you do, not just business, business."

"Sorry to contradict that right now, but when did you return to Romania?"

"About a week ago. We had to cut the trip short because Lucretzia got a gnarly case of sea sickness, but it went well overall! I managed to hunt down a Russian automaton that can play chess. It gets mad and kills people when they beat him, though."

"...It's not here, is it?"

"No, no, don't worry. You especially don't have to worry." He grinned. "Where is Josef, anyway? Won't he say 'hi' to me?"

"He should arrive soon." Gabriel said. "I can go after him, if you want."

"No need. Would you like to look around the back?"

"Oh, uh, can we?" Gabi perked up.

"Of course! I have the more interesting items over there, away from random civilians." Mr Chereji said.

Garofița turned around and he was closer to her than she expected, making her jump.

"I'm sure you will find many things that will interest both of you!" He said, smiling down at her.

"Both of us...?" She tried to smile back.

"Yes! I have a good eye for both products and customers."

"I don't..."

Mr Chereji reached a bony hand towards her. Garofița made to move away, but she would have bumped into a table. He picked a fine silk thread out of her hair, with Gleep hanging from the other end. Its legs were in a frenzy.

"I-I, uh-"

"Are you a witch, dear?" He asked. He flicked his fingers and Gleep landed on a teddy.

"N-No, no..." Garofița said, laughing nervously. "The, uh, the spider just won't leave me."

"What about your other familiars?"

"H-Huh??"

"You smell like death, dear. Death and woodland. And you've got cat fur on your shirt. Black fur, too!"

"Smell like death..." Garofița repeated, shocked that he could sense it too. What was he?

"From your dogs?" Gabi asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Dogs?" Mr Chereji said and chuckled.

Garofița, glaring at him and feeling her face burn, did not like Mr Chereji anymore.

"Let's change the subject!" He said. "The last thing I want is to make potential customers upset!"

"I'm not buying anything from you..." She muttered.

"Is it alright to look on our own?" Gabriel asked, still hesitant, looking to see if Mr Ozsvar was coming already.

"It will be fine. Not all items are volatile."

Garofița listened to their conversations and felt terribly curious. She still wanted, vaguely, to be a witch of her woods and to know more about her pets.

To quote Roxi's phrasing, Garofița's family was everything-phobic. Their church's brand of christianity was all that was allowed in terms of the supernatural. In a way it was understandable, there were many dangers in their world, but as with everything else, her parents took it to absurd extremes. For a while they forbade her from watching Cartoon Network. Freaking Cartoon Network.

This was a perfect occasion to learn more! Mr Chereji opened the heavy metal door and pushed it wide. Gabi looked one more time in the direction where Mr Ozsvar would be, shrugged and descended.

Mr Chereji held one hand against the door frame, like he was pulling back a non-existent curtain.

"Do you want to see?" He asked. "I know you do."

Garofița fought with herself before stepping forward, going down the stone steps as well.

She and Gabi found themselves in the former wine cellar, dark and cold and with a low ceiling. She took off her mask. The area was packed to the brim with all sorts of old treasures, on wooden shelves, in crates, on the floor, arranged on pieces of furniture and inside hessian bags. There were paintings wrapped in paper, rolled up carpets, vases with plugged up mouths, lamps with ominous red and purple glows, stacks of plates and papers, sealed boxes, and countless books.

Close to the entrance was a white marble bust of a woman, with the head tilted to the side, as if to look back over her shoulder. She had a brown piece of cloth tightly wrapped around her eyes, tied in the back with several knots. Best to leave that alone.

One of the rolled up carpets, very large and Persian, rested against the wall with a rope tied around the middle. It bent forward under its own weight, looking almost sad. Gabi pulled back a corner to see the pattern on the inside. He revealed what looked like the paw of a beast, with rounded red fingers and black claws. One of the fingers flexed back and forth.

Garofița and Gabriel perused the rows of items, sticking close together while each looked at what they wanted to. On the floor there was a coffin, dark wood with scratched up varnish, held shut by several nails and chains. They momentarily split up as they walked around it. The air smelled colder, like it was winter.

At the level of her chest was a very long shelf full of many different things. The very first one was a beautiful bracelet shaped like a snake, wrapping twice around the wrist, stored in a glass box. It was very yellow gold and decorated with gemstones, rubies for eyes and quartz for scales. Garofița felt the urge invading her mind to put it on, but walked away.

For most of the remaining shelf there were books. Paperbacks, hardbacks, even leather covers with metallic corners.

One paperback was "Mușchetarul lui Cantemir" by Mihnea Gheorghiu, 1990, by the Albatros Press. The cover was a watercolour painting of a blue-grey castle, a bronze-brown tome, and the titular grey-blue musketeer. According to the back, the original price was 12 lei. Somebody has used it as a disguise for a sort of scrapbook, filling it with cut-outs and hand-written notes, either glued or scotch-taped to the browned pages. Garofița couldn't read the language, something Polish with a dozen consonants.

Holding up the row of books from toppling over was another glass case. Inside was the skeleton of a fish. Upon closer inspection, the fish had arms, shoulder blades and a clavicle.

Garofița turned to see what Gabriel was looking at across the aisle. He picked up a small box from the top shelf, full of post cards and photographs, with countries neither of them could recognise.

She continued browsing the books. There were authors and titles she recognised: Poe, August Strindberg, Dostoyevsky, I. L. Caragiale, Marin Preda, Eugene Sue, all very old editions of their works. Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart" was covered in rambling annotations and scribbles to the point that the original text was unreadable. "The Old Man and the Sea" by Hemingway had wavy pages with salt embedded in the paper.

On a high shelf was a glass box with a heavy lock, and inside was a volume of "The King in Yellow". She noticed it because she heard a dull thunk and saw the book lying against one of the glass walls. She heard the thunk again, and when she looked a second time it was against a different wall. It wanted out, the poor thing. It was hammered in every kid's head at school to not read it, not open it, not even touch it, just report it to a librarian or a policeman if it appears at the library or, God forbid, in your home. There were hundreds of copies floating around.

Next to the sealed box was a jar containing what looked like a lump of dough suspended in cloudy water, and three vials of pink liquid on a wooden support. Garofița glanced at Gabi to see if he would notice her and, standing on her tip-toes, picked up one of the vials. The liquid had the consistency of blood, thick and slimy, and it stained the glass from the inside, taking some time to drip down. She put it back in its place.

She turned her eyes back to the books. There were some by authors she never heard of, and in much stranger conditions. Some looked handmade, printed and stapled at home, or even stitched together with thread.

"Essays on the State of the Soul" by one Păunescu was white paper with hand-written text. Garofița tried to read the first paragraph, but felt like she didn't know Romanian anymore.

The book by G. M. Șaitoș was a little more approachable. It was about fairies and fair folk, but 500 pages long. It was like holding a brick.

A book by someone known only as "Alexis" was 160 pages long, but completely empty. Garofița furrowed her brows, then quickly decided to put it back and wipe her hands against her pants.

F. Cioara also wrote essays, on demonology and occultism.

Audomar the Frank wrote poems and hymns about pagan gods. Oh, G. M. Șaitoș wrote the preface for this one!

The first book with no author looked like somebody's personal notebook. The spine was broken from being open too many times and the pages all stood away from each-other. It was all in Japanese. 家族 appeared frequently. There were big paragraphs of texts, bullet points, arrows and kanji angrily scribbled-out. There were amateur portraits of people too, a group of them. The one that stood out the most was a man with a black hole for a face. The notes ended abruptly, leaving half the book blank. Was Garofița cursed now...?

Next was an actual book, a small chapbook titled "The Werewolf of East End", with no author and no publishing house. All it had was the story and a single woodcut illustration of a dark, empty street between dingy houses. The ink was... so dark, it was like an optical illusion, like there was an actual passage into the book. Garofița closed it quickly.

A volume titled "Prazdnik", all in Russian and with a cream white cover, was burned along the edges, the black paper curling upwards.

"Amor Vincit Omnia", a leather-bound book, was super thin, less than 100 pages. It was a reddish coral, with crimson embossed letters on the cover and a platter of fruit underneath. Also no author. Garofița wanted to open it too, but as her finger touched it, she felt this disgusting warmth fill her chest and stomach, a mixture of pleasure and nausea. She snatched her hand away and left fast.

Gabriel meanwhile wandered not too far away to look at some framed paintings and photographs, illuminated by a yellowed bulb, making them look even stranger than they already were. He picked out one from an open album, depicting an empty 1920s living room. On the back, in an unsteady hand, it wrote "Hello !" and "can you see me?" The whole album was photos from that house.

The books became older and older.

"The Isle of Dogs" by Thomas Nashe and Ben Jonson, "copied and rescued by Lady Elizabeth Lewis".

"Inventio Fortunata", "collected fragments and explicative notes", "by a lover of voyaging".

"Registre de Bai Ze", "écrit par l'Empereur Jaune, partiellement copié par Xie Chen, traduit par Louis Barbarit".

At the end, next the shelf was a small rounded table, with a single book on it. It was huge, long and wide and at least 1000 pages. The front cover was open, hanging off the edge of the table, and the first dozen pages were crumbling to dust. There was a small bin under that side of the table.

Garofița gingerly touched the crumbling pages and they gave away like sand. The other end of the book looked perfectly fine, though. The first pages were old and the last ones were newer.

Garofița looked around. Gabi was walking along a different aisle with Mr Chereji, she could hear their footsteps and chatting. She carefully closed the book and flipped it over, opening it from the other side. She saw the title on the front, a single embossed word: "Relicum".

At the other end, between the last pages and the back cover, new paper grew and bloomed like clusters of mushrooms. After staring at it in awe, Garofița helped the largest one unfold like a butterfly wing. It was a little wet.

Careful not to press too hard on the fledgelings (page-lings!), Garofița flipped to a middle point of the book. There were rows upon rows of tightly jammed lines of text, in faded black typewriter ink. She had to squint to read.

Ioan began on a stormy autumn night, the heavy rain flooding his family's garden and front porch.

He ended four decades later on a cool summer night, slain by an Ottoman invader, a sword thrust through his neck.

Chirița began on a snowy winter night, wrapped in wool and furs, her mother ending a couple hours later.

She ended three decades later on a rainy autumn day, as her own daughter began, and ended, minutes later.

Eudochia began on a warm spring night, a birthmark like a wine stain across her back and buttocks.

She ended six decades later on a cold winter night, poisoned by her daughter-in-law with hemlock in a fruit cake.

Garofița frowned. What kind of book was this? A registry?

Niculae began on a cold spring day, in the kitchen of his family's home, the midwife running late.

He ended five decades later on a hot summer night, drinking too much and falling unconscious, choking on his own vomit.

Iancu began on a cool winter night, among sheep and dogs, in his shepherd grandfather's cabin.

He ended two decades later on a cold winter day, slipping while traversing the mountains, freezing in a ravine.

This book is awful! Will every death be like this?

She flipped closer to the end. Names and details were starting to feel more modern.

Saveta began on a sunny autumn day, sooner than expected, the doctor having to give an emergency caesarean.

She ended seven decades later on a warm spring night, going to sleep and never waking up, found two days later by a grandchild.

Petru began on a hot summer day, delivered by a midwife aunt on the family farm along with his twin sister.

He ended eight decades later on a hot summer day, falling asleep in a lawn chair and never waking up.

Rodica began on a hot summer day, delivered by a midwife aunt on the family farm along with her twin brother.

She ended eight decades later on snowy winter night, going to sleep and never waking up at an alpine resort.

These three had it better.

Garofița skimmed the pages. The great majority of people mentioned had died of old age, in their sleep or whenever their bodies decided they were done. Gruesome deaths became rarer, but were still upsetting to see.

She didn't like how the entries were written. Some had poetic flourish to them, but it was still so cold. Garofița found herself wishing to know more about these people, yet all they were remembered by was two phrases. It was like when she was browsing wikipedia: many ancient concubines and princesses didn't have their real names recorded anywhere, not even birthdates or deathdates.

Garofița also didn't like the words "began" and "ended", like they weren't even people. Past tense, already decided. She couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling as she flipped through the ever-growing book. For how long had it been growing and crumbling? How many lives and deaths had been recorded?

Garofița flipped the pages until she was back to the end. The fresh page she pulled up was standing upwards, glossy and still curly. The second-to-last page, dry and flat, only had a few rows of entries on it.

The very last entry was shiny, like fresh ink had been printed mere seconds ago.

The entry was hers:

Garofița began on a rainy spring night, with the umbilical cord around her neck, unraveled just in time.

She ended nine decades later on a hot summer night, going to sleep and not waking up, found by a god-daughter the next day.

Garofița inhaled sharply, her chest stinging, eyes opening wide. Her hands trembled around the book. Will she die when the book says she will? And the way it says she will? Did she just curse herself? Was it because she read through it? Or just opened? Was it there when she first opened it to the back?

The birth part was all true. It rained when Garofița was born, and she had the umbilical cord around her neck. The bitch-ass doctor at the ultrasound somehow never noticed. Her mother told her that during the first night in the maternity ward, she could hear the pitter-patter of rain against the windows, and the air smelled of petrichor. It was one of the only nice things she ever told Garofița.

She felt... odd. Her first thought was that the death part was pretty good; then she thought that was a weird thought to have. She would live up to her 90s, it claimed, and die peacefully in her sleep. That was good, right? She didn't think she'd make it that far. She wanted to be glad, told herself to be glad it's this and not worse, but her body continued to feel tense and cold. She also wondered who her god-daughter would be.

She heard Gabriel and Mr Chereji talking by the door, having walked 'round the basement. They saw Garofița at the end of the shelf, quietly looking at something, and let her be.

She turned the book around and allowed more of the old pages to fall into the bin like chipping paint. She was about to join the two men, when she had the morbid desire to read about her own death one more time.

She flipped the pages and found her name again, and felt her stomach drop to her feet.

Garofița began on a rainy spring night, with the umbilical cord around her neck, unraveled just in time.

She ended seven decades later on a winter day, in the hospital, after fighting pneumonia for two weeks.

It changed! Why did it change?! She will live less now! Was it because she looked again? Would it change every time she looked? Would her life get shorter and shorter? Her death was worse too?!?

Garofița silently panicked in front of the book, looking as still as a statue from outside but inside feeling like her skull would explode.

She abruptly shut the book, crumbs flying out, made to leave, then quickly turned back, hands shaking and mouth contorted. What to do, what to do?!

Sneaking up on the book, she slowly and carefully opened it again, as if something would jump out at her.

Garofița began on a rainy spring night, with the umbilical cord around her neck, unraveled just in time.

She ended a century later on a cold autumn day, lying in bed blind and deaf, tended to by her god-children.

It changed again. She would live for longer now. Huh.

She tried again, shutting and opening the book:

She ended eight decades later on a warm spring day, lying on the couch to rest and never waking up, a cat in her lap.

That was pretty good too. But then she thought she would become afraid of taking naps on the couch. Garofița imagined she would always ruminate on everything.

She tried again.

She ended five decades later on a hot summer night, in a car accident-

NOPE! She immediately closed the book, and tried again. Her birth remained unchanged, while her death, the distant future, kept changing, shuffling between possibilities.

She ended seven decades later on a warm spring day, falling asleep and never waking up while at a seaside resort.

She ended six decades later on a cold autumn night, in the hospital after fighting gastrointestinal cancer for 3 years.

She ended eight decades later on a cool autumn night, going to sleep and never waking up, a visiting neighbour finding her the next morning.

She decided to stop at that one. Dying in your sleep was probably the best option.

She sighed deeply, trying to calm down her still-racing heart, and made her way back to Gabriel.

"Seen anything interesting?" Mr Chereji asked, appearing at her side.

Garofița shrieked like an owl, jumping to the side.

He held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry!"

Garofița groaned, rubbing the middle of her chest and trying to walk away.

"I apologize for laughing earlier." Mr Chereji said, walking alongside her. "Didn't mean to offend you."

"It's fine..."

"You do have pets, right? What are their names?"

"Buddy..., Walker, Bezea and, uhm,... Pickle."

"Pickle!" He laughed gently. "I like the names you chose."

"Thank you."

"Not many people dare to even get close to such creatures. Are you not scared of them?"

"I was... but they were scared of me too. And they are nice to me now. I take care of them."

He smiled. "Some people have a natural inclination towards the supernatural, the way others do towards art or music. Like druids and shamans of the past. They still exist today, just modernized."

"That's cool."

"I always preferred the world beyond our own. Ours is so dull by comparison. There's more danger, I admit, but I'm used to it. I'd rather deal with a boogeyman or two than a human person. You know how they say: a monster will just kill you and eat you. A human, eh, they'll gladly do much worse. I suppose it's all about perspective. Some avoid the supernatural like it's the plague, others seek it. Each go for what they can handle."

"I feel like I can't handle either..." Garofița said.

"Then hop around." Mr Chereji said. "See what works. You're only a child, it's far too early to handle most things."

"... I read the 'Relicum' book." She confessed.

"Oh? And what did you get?"

"I'll die in my 50s at the youngest, or 100 at the oldest. And most of them of old age."

"Nice!" He nodded. "Last I checked it said I would die in my 80s. I have a solid 20 years left!"

"Oh God..." Garofița laughed quietly.

"One time, when I read it, it said I was to die 5 years ago, falling down a staircase! It's not an exact prediction, since nobody knows what the future holds. For all I know I'll die tomorrow."

"That's kind of scary too."

"Maybe." He pursed his lips. "But we all die eventually. When I was little there was this older teen girl in my neighbourhood. Zamfira was her name, like the poem. My parents were saying she was a no-good hooligan, but I thought she was the coolest person ever." Mr Chereji smiled. "One time she said, half-joking half-philosophical, that 'life is short, but also unbearably, insufferably long'."

He sighed, nostalgic. "I think when you reach a certain age and you're all old and rickety, you're done with life. I haven't reached that age yet, but maybe eventually I'll also get sick of everything." He shrugged.

"... I hope I live a long life."

"I hope you do too, dear."

"There's so many interesting things in the world..." Garofița said, glancing around the basement. "I want to see a lot of them."

"That's the spirit!"

"Mister... how did you know I have, uhm, my pets?"

"I have my ways." He smiled.

Mr Ozsvar emerged from the light at the top of the stairs, commenting something about leaving the stall outside unsupervised.

"Look who joins us!" Mr Chereji said, ignoring the comment and stepping forward.

"Hello!" Gabriel popped up from behind a shelf, carrying a tall stack of old books.

"Do you ever dust in here?" Mr Ozsvar rubbed underneath his nose.

"You'd think an archive mouse like yourself would enjoy a dungeon like mine." Mr Chereji replied, making a wide gesture of presentation. "All nice and dark and clammy."

"Are you taking me for a vampire, Emil?"

"Oh no, you're too much of a gourmand to drink just blood."

Mr Ozsvar side-eyed him. "I'd worry about my own health before that of others."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm as healthy as a horse!"

"A horse about to be shot."

"Are y'all done yet?" Gabriel demanded, putting the books on a table with a little difficulty.

Garofița quickly slipped up the stairs, back to the surface. She admired the bears a little more, then the stalls around them. An old lady was selling mirrors and hairbrushes from the early 1900s, and an elderly couple was selling coins, banknotes and stamps.

Gabriel and Mr Ozsvar came out as well, their purchase wrapped in paper. Gabi looked left and right to find Garo, then saw her coming from another stall, holding an envelope.

"Whatcha got?" He asked.

"It's, uh, it's a gift for Vitalis."

"Aww, that's nice!"

"We can get going then, can't we?" Mr Ozsvar said, fixing the cuff of his sleeve.

"Do you want anything for yourself?" Mr Chereji asked in the door frame.

"No, I got boo-" She said as her eyes trailed towards the teddies. "Can I... How much for a figurine?"

"For you? 10 lei."

Garofița's eyes sparkled and her hair seemed to fluff up.

"Which one do you want, little witch?" He smiled.

"This one!"

The three made their way back to their car (and took some time to remember where they parked it). Garofița looked at her acquisitions in her lap, smiling brightly.

"We did pretty good today." Mr Ozsvar mused. "Got a deal too."

"Wish we could have found the essays by Păunescu." Gabriel said, looking over their own books.

"It was there." Garofița looked up.

"Huh?" Both men said.

"It was there. Uhm, "Essays on the Soul" or something like that."

"It was there?" Gabi asked.

"Yeah!"

Gabi threw his head against the seat's headrest, groaning loudly. "Mr Ozsvar, turn the car around."

"I'm not turning the car around." He sighed. "We'll go again next week."

They returned to Ferești around 1 in the afternoon, when people were leaving church and the streets were full again.

"Where should we drop you off, Garo?" Gabi asked.

"In front of Amante is ok!"

The car shook suddenly, Garofița almost dropping her figurine.

"What was that?" Mr Ozsvar narrowed his eyes.

"You hit a curb." Gabi said. "Again."

"I didn't see it."

"You always hit that one!"

"This street is badly made."

"You are b-" He was about to say but was interrupted by his phone.

Garofița stepped outside and waved at them as they drove off, in the direction of the town center. She made her way to the encampment, humming "she's all that you desiiire, liiiaaar". Vitalis was outside her tent.

"Welcome back!" She greeted first, balancing a cigarette between her lips as she searched for her lighter. "Did you have fun?"

"I did!" Garofița beamed. "I wanna go again."

"Go, when the weather is good." She lit it after a couple clicks. "What did you get?"

Garofița showed her the books and the bear. Vitalis flipped each one around.

"They're in French, aren't they?"

"Yeah!"

"You know French?"

"A little bit!"

"Nice, nice... How much did you pay for these?"

"10 for both books and 10 for the figurine."

Vitalis raised her eyebrows and grinded her teeth a bit, not saying anything out loud. Garofița's smile still fell.

"If you liked them." She gave them back. "Did you get anything else?"

"Uhm, yes..." She hesitated, pulling out the envelope. "This one is, uh, for you. It's a gift."

"For me?" Vitalis opened it.

Inside was a stamp.

"You got me a stamp?" She asked, surprised.

"Y-Yeah! There was an old man and an old lady selling them. They had a lot of doubles of a lot of stamps. I-I don't know if you already had this one, but I thought it's cute! And she kind of looks like you."

Vitalis smiled wide, rubbing a knuckle by her nose. "You shouldn't spend money on me, kid..." She chuckled.

Garofița smiled back. "It's a gift!"

She returned home, skipping all the way.

"Look what I gooot!" She showed Buddy first, then Walker and Bezea.

She looked around the empty house, wondering where to place them. "I'll buy a table from the market next time!" She thought out loud.

She put them underneath the window sill, the books propped up like two paintings and the bear between them.

When she went to school, in their old library there were pretty small volumes like these ones, from Larousse and Hachette. She wished she had pretty old books like that so badly, that she owned them and could look at them whenever she wanted. "I'll get a whole collection!" She told Buddy as he lied down next to her.

Bonus Illustration: