Babayaga

Looking inside, the priest saw the clothes he had loaned Vidot three days before in the barn, now all neatly folded up. He looked back at the detective. “That looks like a new suit you’ve got on.”

“It is!” grinned the detective. “How perceptive of you. It is much more expensive than I am used to paying, but, well, I must look presentable. I am returning home after all. But come, we are not here to talk of me.” He took the priest by the arm and led him into the asylum. “The nurses tell me you assist here occasionally.”

The priest nodded, unsure of where this was going. “I do what I can, a weekly mass, last rites as they are needed.”

“Yes, yes, that is most kind,” Vidot said, a little offhand, clearly distracted by other thoughts. As they approached the two women sitting at the front desk, he presented his identification. “Hello, I am Detective Vidot from Paris, and this is my colleague. I called earlier.”

The nurses both looked bright-eyed and willing to help, but it was clear they had no idea what Vidot was referring to. Whomever he had spoken to previously had clearly failed to pass on the message.

“A man was brought here yesterday?” said Vidot, hoping to clarify. “The man they found at the police station?”

At this there was a unison of “Ohhh” and their faces fell into solemn expressions of concern. Vidot gave them a polite nod.

Moments later, the priest found himself looking down at a thin, shivering figure who was balled up and muttering into the corner of his mattress. Kneeling beside the bed, Vidot held the patient’s hand. The detective’s face held such deep sympathy for the creature lying before them that Andrei had to ask, “Are you related to him?”

Vidot did not take his eyes off the man but nodded. “In a way, yes, he is a brother to me like no other could ever be, in that we have shared a unique and terrrible experience. But he is not a blood relative, no. He was once my colleague. His name is Bemm.”

“Bemm. I see. And what happened to Monsieur Bemm?”

“We were on a journey together, he and I. We were heading to the police station where we both work. Then we were attacked and separated. I thought he had died, but he hadn’t, he made it there to the station, and waited for me, I suppose, or for some kind of help, slowly going mad in his solitude. That is where they found him, transformed into … this.” Vidot leaned over and brushed the trembling patient’s hair away from his eyes. “He is healthy, physically, his body is fine. But his mind, well, it seems he encountered realities greater than he could bear. Many people need the certainty of solid walls and clear windows, but then they meet mysteries they cannot solve.”

The priest knew this all too well. “Yes, there are many.”

“And when they envelop and overwhelm you, well, if you are not prepared…” He gestured toward Bemm.

The priest looked down at the man. “What can I do for him?”

“Sit with him, talk to him, reassure him,” said the detective. “He needs a friend by his side, one who believes in him and, though I do not know you very well, I sense you are one of the few people alive who can help him.”

“I can try.”

“Good, good. I knew you would. Or at least I hoped so. I will come and visit as often as I can.” The detective leaned over and spoke gently to the patient. “Listen to me, Bemm, we are safe now. It is over. You can tell this man, this priest, the truth, he will understand. We are safe now, Bemm.” Again, he took the patient’s limp hand in his own. “We are safe.”

The detective rose and put on his hat. With a warm and grateful smile, he shook hands with Andrei and left the priest alone with Bemm, who had not changed his position or expression and still lay shivering on the cot.

Andrei sat down on the corner of the bed and stared into Bemm’s wild eyes. He stroked the man’s forehead. He thought about what Vidot had said about the mysteries. He realized that he himself had stopped trying to comprehend them many years ago, merely attempting instead to stay afloat as the spinning, swirling tempestuous world carried him along through the darkness on its grand elliptical journey.

He had been a victim of strange fortune, but not like this man, and not like his own brother. He imagined he was looking down at Max, who had suffered immeasurable horrors for years as a prisoner in another body, another life. He recalled what he had often imagined he would say to his brother if Max ever returned to him whole again, if they were ever fortunate enough to stand in a room, looking eye-to-eye. He remembered that these imaginary conversations always began the same way, with the same phrase, the words he believed lay at the core of what any human being ever wants to hear from another, what affection is in its primary essence, what the bonds of friendship and family mean above all else. So he placed his hand gently on Bemm’s shoulder and, softly, slowly, spoke the phrase, over and over again, as if it were a prayer, “I am so glad you are here.”

VII