Zen and the Art of Vampires

"You're just saying that because you'd just built Ingveldur a new cabin," one of the other men called out. "Two rooms! Who has need of a separate sleeping room, I ask you? That's just flaunting your wealth in the face of god, that is."

"Ha! Thus speaks the man with three—three—milk cows, when one would do. If you want to talk about setting yourself above the rest of the village, Hallur Hallsson, then you'd best look to yourself first."

"I needed those cows," the man named Hallur yelled, storming forward to confront his neighbor. "I had six children to feed! Unlike Agda and her hundred chickens. All those chickens for just one old woman. Bah! That was flaunting wealth if there ever was flaunting."

The elderly lady shot him a nasty glare. "I'd quite a few less chickens than when I started out, and I know just whose pot they ended up in, don't I?"

An argument broke out amongst the ghosts about the merits of one-room versus two-room housing, cows, chickens, and, inexplicably, a pig named Freyja. I was about to yell for attention when timid little Marta came forward and put a ghostly hand on my arm, making my skin tingle a little where she touched me.

"Don't listen to them," she said softly, a little smile on her lips as she glanced at Karl. "I've been married a whole year, and what they're saying isn't that important. None of it really matters so long as you are fond of your husband."

"But I'm not," I told her, wishing like the dickens that someone, anyone, would just listen to me without forming their own assumptions. "I don't even like him. He murdered a man in cold blood, right in front of me."

"He was defending you," Karl said, raising his voice a little as the argument continued behind him. "He saved your life."

"Possibly, but we don't know that. The man who grabbed me could have killed me easily if he wanted to, but he didn't. He was simply using me as a shield to protect himself from Kristoff. Oh, it doesn't matter," I said, rubbing my temples. A headache had come in the aftermath of my tears, leaving my head pounding. "None of this really matters. What I have to do is decide what steps to take to get myself and all of you to safety. People. People!"

The arguing stopped as I yelled and banged the lid of a garbage can.

"… told you that pig was barren, but would you listen to me? No, you wouldn't; you just had to… oh." The man who bore a strong resemblance to Ulfur stopped arguing and turned to look at me. "Sorry."

"Thank you." I eyed them all carefully for a few seconds. "Before we proceed, I'd like to know if any of you have any idea whatsoever of the whereabouts of this Ostri place I'm supposed to take you. Anyone?"

Fifteen blank faces regarded me.

"Hmm." I bit my lip and tried to think through the dull waves of pain that ebbed and flowed against my brain like molasses. "Kristoff said the Brotherhood will kill me, so I can't go to them. Anniki is dead, and I don't know any other Zoryas, assuming there are others to know, so I can't ask one of them where you're supposed to be taken. If I was home, I could look it up online and see if there's some clue as to where Ostri is located, but Kristoff has my passport. And besides, Audrey has all our tickets. I don't even have any money."

At that, my stomach rumbled, and I realized it had been at least twelve hours since I'd last eaten.

"Oh, man," I said, wrapping my arms around myself. "No money means no food, or a way out of here, or even a place to stay. I've got to get some money."

Ulfur pursed his lips and looked thoughtful. "I'd give you my coins, but they washed out to sea with the rest of the village."

I shook my head, thinking over my options. Wire home for money? That would probably require identification to pick up the funds, and my wallet had no doubt been confiscated. Steal it?

"Does anyone here have any thieving experience?" I asked my little gaggle of ghosts.

"Aye, Hallur does," the old lady named Agda called out. "He can take a chicken out of its nest without ruffling a feather."

"That's a lie!" he yelled, rounding on her.

"Anyone else?" I interrupted before they got started.

Everyone shook their heads. "Great. Me, either. I wouldn't know how to go about stealing money in this day and age of high-tech security." I chewed on my lip a bit more.

"Can you borrow some coins from a friend?" Ulfur asked, stroking Ragnar's head.

"I don't have any friends here—" I started to say, then remembered Magda. She wasn't a friend per se, but she was very friendly, and seemed an understanding sort of woman. The question was, would she help me, or turn me over to the police?

I shook my head at the notion of trusting my life to someone I didn't really know. Magda may seem like a nice person, but what proof did I have that I could trust her in a time of need?

I'd just have to find someone else.

"There's your husband," Marta said. "You could ask him for money."