Herjuno fainted. When his hand fell away, I saw that his middle finger was missing.

I raised my head and saw the face of the woman who had maimed him.

A woman wreathed with flowers. Her luxurious dress billowed in waves. The Queen. A gust of wind flung the balcony door open and leaves swirled into the room.

My eyes smarted from the dust. I could just make out the sound of breaking surf. What struck me most wasn’t her glittering appearance but her familiar face. Not the face of a dramatic, influential woman, but the face of an ordinary woman I’d gazed at across the dinner table.

Dewi, Herjuno’s wife.

She fixed me with her stare. I realised, then, that she was holding a chain. A frightening creature was bound to it. A giant scorpion.

I backed towards the door, in terror, but unable to look away. Then, the Queen turned, and she and the scorpion flew through the window and disappeared.

—

That fateful night stole not only Herjuno’s middle finger but also his sanity. He is now under intensive supervision by a psychiatrist. He babbles on about the Queen of the South Sea. They think he had a breakdown because his wife ran off with his daughter, leaving him only a letter. Dewi’s signature was stamped on it. In the letter, she wrote of how devastated she was to learn that her husband was having an affair and asked that he not try to find her. Very sentimental. The paper contained no trace of the Queen of the South Sea, no indication of her disguise as Dewi all this time.

It is getting to the point where Herjuno might be locked up in an asylum. Nobody believes his story.

Only I know the truth.

But I say nothing. I’m not sure why. Sometimes I think it’s because I don’t want to be labelled crazy too. Sometimes I think it’s because I sympathise with Dewi or the Queen. I’m not certain whose side I’m on any more.

I’ve had time to wonder why Herjuno’s life has been spared. Why only his middle finger was sacrificed and not his soul. If someone goes missing on the beach at Parangtritis, people believe that the Queen has taken a victim. To become one of her ghostly warriors, perhaps. I’ve come to the conclusion that Herjuno didn’t mean enough to the Queen of the South Sea to receive that blessing of eternal life.

Sometimes, voices from ancient times echo in my ears.

Gung pra peri perayangan ejim sarawi

Sang Sinom Prabu Rara yekti gedhe dhewe.

Vampire

Read Saras backwards and you will find me.

We come from the same place, cramped, dark, wet, red. But she doesn’t want me because she thinks I suckle at the breast of a she-wolf.

—