Ivan had just finished the morning salting round.
The guards appointed to cemetery patrol, like himself, were told to spread coarse salt on the graves twice a day, in order to prevent ghosts from rising. Ivan always took his lunch break right after the salting was done. The cemetery was surrounded by an eerie aura, and the notion that spirits weren't going to sneak up on him now that the salting was done made it easier to relax. He took a sandwich out of his bag and made his way to Kris' grave, like usual.
It was the only grave he avoided putting salt on. After all there was no point, since Kris wasn't dead. At least he hoped he wasn't. He promised he was going to come back eventually, but after how long? A couple of years had passed already. What if he really had died? Or what if he was fine and just settled elsewhere, with no intention of coming back to him? Ivan tried to shoo away the bad thoughts and sat on the rock he had dragged in front of Kris' grave. He bit down on his sandwich. He didn't understand why Kris had to leave in the first place. He had never felt like he was a danger to him. Ever. In all those years together. Ivan took a big breath. There was no point in thinking about it now. He knew that the only thing he could do was to trust Kris. He finished his lunch and looked back up at the tombstone.
He looked at the carved roses that surrounded the text. The rose was the Rjbnov house symbol. He didn't know much about them, despite the fact that they were his best friend's family. Kris never talked much about them, which was understandable Ivan thought, considering what had happened. And how they had left him. Regardless of how little he knew about them though, Ivan couldn't help but despise them. Kris was very insistent in saying that what happened was no one but his fault and that he deserved to pay for it, but Ivan never believed him.
Ivan was so lost in thought that he didn't notice the figure approaching him from behind.
"Why are you mourning the living, dear?"
Ivan quickly turned around to see an old lady looking over him. Her face was wrinkly, her eyes slightly downturned, her lips pale and curved into a subtle smile.
"How.. how do you know.." he muttered.
"Know what, dear? That he isn't dead?" Her smile widened a bit.
Ivan nodded.
“I knew him from the time he was staying at the reformatory..I used to go there to bring food for the children. And regardless of what the official version of the story was, it was no mystery to the people working that he did not die.” She looked at the young man, who was still sitting on the ground, speechless. “And you don’t appear to believe he died either, since you haven’t thrown salt on his grave, dear” She added.
“Have you.. have you told anyone that he didn’t die? Does his family know?” Ivan got up, trying to wipe the dirt off of his white coat.
“No. Besides, I don’t think they would care that much, considering they left him outside the family grave. What a terrible fate..” She spent a moment looking at the tombstone, before turning back to Ivan and smiling. “Oh dear.. I haven’t introduced myself yet, haven’t I? Young lads like you call me Aunt Anya. I take care of kids whose parents are too busy, in exchange for coin. I raised many, many people around here. And you are..?”
“My name is Ivan. I am the guard assigned to this cemetery..” As he replied he noticed her leaning in, trying to take a better look at his platoon’s symbol. “I’m in the Hounds.” he added, pointing at the black hunting dog on his badge. “It’s the only platoon operating in this side of the city.”
“I understand..” She said as she looked back at him “Don’t take it personally dear, but I’m not on best of terms with the guards.”
Ivan couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows. The old lady giggled. “Don’t worry, dear. Your mates like me.. I’m the one that doesn't like them. I don’t agree with their methods. What they do to people.. kids, even.. it’s wicked.”
Ivan felt a sharp pain in his chest. Guilt. “I know, but I’m not like th-”
She cut him off without hesitation. “I know, dear. I know.”
He couldn’t quite tell if she was being sarcastic or if she believed him.
“It’s best if I go now, Ivan. I have to start preparing dinner for the kids. Take care of yourself”
Ivan nodded. Aunt Anya smiled at him before walking away slowly, leaning on her cane.
The sun was about to set on the cemetery, and Ivan had locked the gates and made his way back to the shack. Even though several hours had passed, he couldn’t stop thinking about what aunt Anya had said to him. He was aware of what the guards did to whoever they deemed dangerous, he had seen it. He remembered what they did to Kris. The memories of those nights were like stains that he couldn’t wipe off completely. He remembered the screams, and the smell of burning flesh. Ivan groaned as he tried to chase away the images from his mind, but to no avail. He grinded his teeth. He wasn’t like them. He had joined the Cemetery Guard to protect common folks from real monsters, to help others. He wasn’t evil, dammit. He knew how some of his comrades took pleasure in tormenting defenseless sorcerers. How they enjoyed branding them and torturing them until they broke. Just thinking about it sent shivers down his spine. It was part of the reason why he disliked having to go back to the command post in order to submit his reports. The command post was right over the jail, and Ivan could swear that sometimes he was able to hear faint screams coming from below. Noone around him seemed to react to them though, so he could not quite tell if it was just his imagination pulling tricks on him, or if the others were just accustomed to it.
Ivan bleakly glanced at the stack of papers on the shack’s table. It was almost time to submit his reports.