“What about the bargain?” Katia demanded.
“Bargain?”
“With my mother. Did your bargain include leaving me while you engage in forbidden rituals? You know the Patriarch has outlawed the Gathering, and these Khlysty priests are banned as well. They’re heretics. This Little Father only wants to use you, Aunt. He cannot cure you.”
Nikki’s eyes filled with tears, and she began to weep softly into the silken underthings she held. “I don’t blame you for doubting him. A few months ago, I would have too, but the Little Father can work miracles, Katia; he really can. Trust me, please. I beg of you. It won’t be much longer. I promise I will take you to your mother the moment I am well again, But I can’t do anything so long as I feel so wretchedly sick. You understand that, don’t you?” Her red-rimmed eyes pleaded with Katia.
Katia had no heart to see her aunt in greater anguish. She shrugged and smiled a little. “Oh, I understand better than you give me credit for, Aunt. I know what pain is. As for my mother, it no longer matters to me whether she reveals herself or not. My heart is hardened to her. But not to you. Go to the Little Father, Natasha Filippovna. I blame you for nothing. I only want you to be well once more.”
Katia’s kindness hurt more than her scorn. Natasha Filippovna was overcome by grief and penitence. “You don’t know how I suffer, Katia. I am a weak and greedy woman, and a sin as terrible as murder rests heavy on my soul.” She embraced Katia tightly and wept against her shoulder. “When I am better, I swear I will make it up to you. I will. I promise I will. You are a fine, lovely young woman, Katia. You have a forgiving heart, and that is a godlike thing. Your mother will be proud of you.”
“Forget my mother, as I have.” Katia’s voice was cold as she pulled away from her aunt’s too-eager embrace. She went to the door. Her hand on the knob, she realized that if Alexei’s plan succeeded, she would probably never see Natasha Filippovna again. “God go with you, Aunt,” she whispered before she left the room.
Later that morning when she had eaten a light breakfast and dressed in an attractively simple morning dress of persimmon-colored wool, Katia crossed the hall and went into Mary’s nursery where the child was being dressed for the day.
“I will tend her,” she told the nurse and servant as she lifted the child in her arms and took her to sit on the bench before the fat iron stove. “And I will see to her evening meal and bedtime as well. You will not be needed today.”
The servants bowed and left the room quickly. When they had closed the door behind them, Katia spoke seriously to Mary. “Look into my eyes, dushenka, so that I know you are listening to me.” Clasping the small dimpled hands to her breast, she waited a moment until the child complied. “Marika, tonight we are going to leave this place forever as I promised. Prince Alexei is going to help us get away. He will take us to London in Great Britain, a city far away from Prince Oleg and this house.” She stared at Mary, searching for some indication that what she said meant anything at all to the child. But her eyes were blank, expressionless as always. Katia saw the two of them reflected in the oval mirror on the wall. Framed in gold, they were like a tragic family portrait. The vision depressed her; suddenly, she doubted that what Alexei had promised would ever come to pass. She regretted having spoken to Mary. The Romanov palace with its dozens of servants; its huge bolted doors and many twisting passageways, was like a fortress that Alexei could never breach. She felt her hope and confidence ebbing; and to reassure herself, she had to talk about Alexei. She had to hear their love spoken of in this house where it was most forbidden.
“Prince Alexei loves me, and that means he loves you too. He will take care of us so we never need to be frightened anymore. He loves us, Marika. Both of us.”
She heard a click behind her and felt Mary’s body go rigid. Katia looked up into the gilt mirror. Now a smiling Oleg Romanov was reflected there as well.
“I have had a change of plans, my sweet,” he said. “I shall be staying in with you this evening. I thought a late supper would be pleasant for the two of us. Shall We say eleven?”
Near midnight the street outside the Romanov palace was deserted. Malodorous river vapours cast a misty veil over everything. As the giant bells in the Smolni Cathedral tower tolled the half hour, the sleepy night stirred at the sound of horses and carriage wheels racing over the shiny cobbles. Drawn by eight handsome greys caparisoned in Imperial blue and gold, a somber dark vehicle—well-armed and guarded by outriders bearing the Imperial coat-of-arms—halted before the palace.
Prince Alexei leapt to the ground in an instant. He looked up at Jake who rode beside the yantchiki, and the two men nodded grimly to one another. Then, two at a time, he took the wide marble steps fronting the palace and entered the great hall decorated with portraits of a dozen generations of Romanov. At the end of the great hall, he raced up the sweeping curved staircase. At the top he paused a moment to determine the exact location of Katia’s room in the many wings of the palace. The vast building was quiet. From somewhere deep below-stairs in the servant’s quarters, he heard the faint sound of hearty laughter and the jingle of a song.
’At least someone is enjoying this night!’ thought Alexei grimly. Well, this time tomorrow night he expected to be happy too. He and his beloved would be on the road by then, half the distance to the border covered.
On the mezzanine level, he strode resolutely through the arch to the garden room and up the wing stairs into the shadowy south corridor where Katia’s suite was located. Suddenly, he was grabbed from behind and hurled to the floor on his stomach. A boot crashed into the small of his back, and the air exploded from his lungs. His cry broke as he dragged for air. He clammered to his knees, but a boot in the ribs sent him sprawling again. He was stunned and couldn’t think clearly. He was armed, but his assailant tied his hands with damp leather thongs that quickly began to dry and tighten on his wrists and he could reach for neither pistol nor knives. A wad of cloth was shoved into his mouth.
Leo yanked him to his feet. His voice was like oiled ice. “Now you’re going to see something that’ll interest you, Highness. A little presentation arranged by your cousin and Miss Katia!” Leo laughed sadistically and shoved Alexei ahead of him down the hall toward Katia’s room.
When they entered the bed chamber, Leo held him back against the curtains where the shadows were deepest; but Alexei had a clear view of the room, and what he saw made him sick to his stomach. Katia…Katia! Alexei surged against Leo and the bonds that held him. Leo held the point of a knife to the tender spot at the base of his skull and whispered so that only Alexei could hear, “She likes it. Prince. Can’t you see she likes it?”
Katia sat on a straight chair beside the bed, facing out into the room. Her hands were also tied, and a thong crisscrossed her midriff tightly. She wore a loose satin wrapper, and one lapel had slipped down across her almond-colored shoulder. Alexei thought he could feel every inch of his intestines as they knotted up in the pit of his stomach and slowly turned to iron. In an instant he knew that Leo was right. Katia loved being the innocent victim. He could see it on her face with its half-playful, half-terrified expression and the voluptuous way she writhed against her bonds. She loved the way Oleg was looking at her too. She enjoyed teasing and taunting him with her body. Alexei turned his head away, but Leo’s knife forced him to look once more toward the lurid tableau. He watched and felt a part of himself die as his image of Katia’s perfection was shattered.
Her mouth was slightly open, and on her tongue she could still taste the golden elixir Oleg had forced her to sip.
“What did you give me?” She whispered the question. Her tongue and throat and the inner skin of her lips tingled pleasantly now. The shadowed room was hot, or was the heat rising from within her? She could not tell and did not truly care as the potion began to take effect. Drifting into its spell, she was only aware of the hunger, the gnawing desire for a lover’s hands on her body. Strange new colors began to dance in her vision; and wherever sh
e turned there were fresh shadows, lights and brilliant flashes. She felt half in the world, half out of it.
“The elixir is called the Hummingbird,” answered Oleg so quietly only she could hear him. “It is made by New World savages, and it is exceedingly rare. Count Sevilla tells me the Indians made a powder from the wings of a cruel and beautiful bird that sucks the life from living blossoms.”
As he undressed himself, Oleg’s eyes never left Katia. Her blue tartar eyes had begun to glitter warmly. She moistened her lips with her tongue and struggled luxuriously as if the bonds that held her were a lover’s hands. The aphrodisiac potion was working in her quickly, and Oleg was as excited as a seventeen-year-old. He thought of his cousin, the captive viewer of the scene; and his excitement heightened almost painfully. In a moment or two, Alexei would know Katia for the whoring bitch she really was. Perhaps, he thought, even Katia would know herself at last.
Chapter Twenty-nine
It was not in the nature of Black Jake’s people to count the passage of moments or hours. For Jake and his brethren, time simply was. But his instinct for trouble was sensitive after years of harsh experience with white men, and something told Jake that Alexei had been gone too long. Too long. He slipped down from his carriage seat beside the Imperial yantchiki. On the street, he paused a moment to adjust his clothing. The white man’s dress—even the utilitarian and unadorned tunic and cloak he wore—made him feel clumsy and slow. Despite the cold, he removed the noisy boots made necessary by the Russian climate.
He moved silent as a spectre though the still palace, down the plush carpeted hallways lined with portraits and felt their eyes following him like those of malevolent gods. At the top of some stairs, he turned toward the south wing without a hesitation. Like a canny beast, he was tracking Alexei, using his preturnaturally acute senses of smell and temperature to guide him through the maze of corridors to where he was certain his master needed him.
Throaty female laughter alerted him. He moved more slowly, creeping close to the wall. At the sitting room door, he stopped and cautiously spied into the room. It was empty, but the halo of orange light from Katia’s open bedroom door drew him stealthily. The air he breathed carried messages. Besides the musk of white passion, there was fear and desperation in the atmosphere of Katia’s bedroom.
He slipped inside unnoticed, and in an instant his eyes took in everything. He saw Prince Alexei held in the shadows by Leo, a look of agonized horror and revulsion on his face. Oleg lay naked on a scarlet-shawled chaise close to the bed, facing Katia. Katia, the focus of the room’s attention, was seated in a straight backed chair near Oleg. Her hands were also tied and her hair and clothing were disordered. Nevertheless, it was apparent to Jake that she was enjoying her bondage. He looked again at Alexei. His friend stood rigidly still. Jake could sense his angry readiness and was content to hang back in the shadows near the door, awaiting the time when he would be needed.
The Hummingbird elixir had made Katia insensitive to everything but the passionate aching in her body. She saw neither Jake nor Alexei nor Leo. She was conscious only of Oleg sprawled like a sultan near her. Her fingertips tingled with the need to touch and fondle him. Her breath came in short pants like a heated animal’s.
“I’ll do whatever you want, Oleg,” she cajoled. “Set me free and I will give you the kind of pleasure lovers die for.” Unconsciously, her body began to sway gently, and her hips moved seductively. The room swam before her eyes, and she shuddered with violent excitement as she felt Oleg’s fingers at last untying the knots at her wrists.
“Come down beside me,” she pleaded as she removed her wrapper and lay back, naked, on the fur rug by the fireplace. She raised her hips slightly and her thighs opened invitingly. The stiffly silky fur tickled and delighted her supersensitive skin. She laughed and squirmed with anticipatory pleasure as she saw that Oleg was ready for her. His eyes were glazed, and his pale wet mouth was open slightly. The sight of his manhood, erect and powerful, did not frighten her anymore. Instead she felt herself moistening eagerly at the sight.
“Do you remember the first time?” she crooned, touching herself in preparation for her lover. “We lay here together, and you chided me for being cold. Do you remember? Well, I am no longer cold, I promise you. My skin is burning. Come feel me, Oleg.” She held her arms open to him. Her desire was a throbbing weight inside her. “Here,” she whispered, caressing her own oiled center.
Then, in the midst of everything, like a far distant lightning, there was a tiny flash at the edge of Katia’s consciousness. A faint inner voice wondered at the verge of panic, ‘My God, what am I doing?’ She tried to move away from Oleg, but her body seemed to be commanded by a will she could neither control nor even contact. It was as if she were being driven to act by the mind and desires of a stranger. Vaguely, she remembered Alexei. There was something about a plan between the two of them. She must remember. She must! But the drug was working in her, and she could not fight it.
She let go this last strand of consciousness and slipped entirely within the aphrodisiac spell. Her body was enflamed by a sweet ravening hunger that swept aside all girlish pride and natural reserve as easily as love had done the day before with Alexei. The nerve endings of her most private parts quivered with the anguished hunger for sensation, and her hands were trembling as they pulled Oleg down to her. She ground her loins against him, letting her body speak to him in its own eloquent language. The waves of pleasure were warm and multicoloured in her, obscuring everything but desire.
As he watched Katia’s wanton display, the sickened feeling in Alexei’s belly became impossible to bear. He was filled with a predatory hate for Leo, for Oleg, but mostly for Katia who had betrayed him into trusting her. Careless of Leo’s knife and with his hands still bound behind him, Alexei drove himself back against the guard and sent them both hurtling into a heavy writing desk. Alexei’s head grazed the leg of the desk, and he was unconscious for a second. He came to just in time to see Leo poised over him. Bending his knees, Alexei interrupted the bodyguard’s lunge, ramming his boots at the man’s belly. The bodyguard reeled backwards into the shadows near the door. As he clambered to his feet, Black Jake stepped into his line of sight.
The two bodyguards faced one another. Leo held his knife in one hand, a heavy footstool in the other. To Alexei, Jake appeared unarmed. There was a scuffle; the footstool clattered to the floor. Jake’s right hand moved with the astonishing speed of a serpent strike. Alexei heard an abrupt gurgling scream; and as Leo fell back, his knife dropped from his hand. A small sharp stone jutted from the base of his bleeding throat. Groaning, pawing at the ruby gushing wound, Leo dropped to the floor; and there was silence in Katia’s bedroom.
The scene had mesmerized Oleg. There had not been time for him to save Leo. As he watched Black Jake untie Alexei his devious imagination struck on a new plan, another way to make Alexei suffer. Oleg was exquisitely conscious of Katia languishing beneath him, but he forced himself away from her. The incredible scene of the last few moments replayed in his mind, and he knew he must act quickly before the effects of the Hummingbird diminished. Oleg was certain that if Katia were permitted to speak rationally, to explain, Alexei would believe her; and all his plans for the perfect punishment and revenge would be thwarted.
He left Katia on the rug. He found his dressing gown where he had thrown it over the chair. As he slipped it on, he ignored Katia’s pleas that he return to her. He reached for the bellpull. Alexei stopped his hand.
“Let go of me. Cousin,” warned Oleg. “There will be trouble for this. The Czar will not so easily forgive cold-blooded murder.” Oleg’s voice hid the agitation he felt.
“Leave the body,” demanded Alexei in a tone that left no room for contradiction. “Let his corpse lie there until the stink of it fouls the Romanov palace.”
Oleg tried to laugh disparagingly, but the sound died in his throat when he looked toward Katia. She was sitting up, resting on her elbows. Her whimpers of d
esire were sometimes interrupted by exasperated cries of confusion now. He thought the effects of the elixir might be waning already. He began to sweat profusely. There was no telling what Alexei might do if he knew how Oleg had arranged this scene. His cousin was entirely capable of murder. Oleg licked his tongue back and forth across his parched lips as his imagination sought a lie that even Alexei would believe.
“Listen, Cousin,” he said conspiratorily, “you and I, we share the same blood. I wished you no harm when I had you brought here. Believe me, I only wanted you to see how it is with Katia. I knew she had blinded you, enchanted you with her charm; and I wanted you to know what kind of a whore she really is. Of course, if you still want her, then she is yours. I will cover this…” he indicated Leo’s body…unpleasantness. The Czar need never hear of what your man has done.”
Alexei sneered “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Oleg? You can’t afford a public scandal just now. The Czar might send Myshkin to investigate.” Alexei rubbed the cuts made in his wrists by the rawhide thongs. His expression was fierce. Black Jake hung back prepared to kill again if necessary.
“If you want her so much, take her!” cried Oleg. “She has been only trouble to me.” There was something hawklike about Alexei’s ferocity. Oleg squirmed as a rabbit might, sensing the descending talons.
Alexei shot a look at Katia. His handsome mouth curled with disgust. “I don’t want her. I thank you for showing me the truth, Cousin. I don’t know what your motives were and frankly I don’t care. I’m just glad I found out in time.”
An undercurrent of pain in Alexei’s voice made Oleg relax a little. He sensed a slight shift in power between them. “Of course, she is exquisite,” he said. “I don’t blame you for wanting her. There is hardly a man in Petersburg who does not find her desirable.”
The Frost And The Flame Page 27