“I’m impressed,” Geist said. “Genuinely.”
Anastasie perked up. “It means the world to hear an American say that.”
“An American?”
“Yes! Aren’t all of you gallivanting across deserts and taming the wild? I’ve heard of American sorcerers bending the mountains to their will and even normal men building hundreds of miles of train tracks through barren wastelands.”
“W-Well, I guess there is some of that.”
“Please tell me!” She moved to the edge of her seat, her knees touching Geist’s. “I’ve always fancied stories of the Americas, ever since I was a little girl.”
Geist inched away, uncertain of what to say. Victory made it sound as though she would win Anastasie over, but this wasn’t what Geist had expected. What good ol’ American stories could she regale the grand duchess with?
The thought of weaving a fantastical tale bothered her more than anything else. Geist had never considered herself a “social” person.
“Uh,” Geist rubbed at her neck. “Perhaps we can engage in a different activity? Would you care to dance?”
“Oh, no, no. Mama has me dance enough as it is. I rarely get to speak with an actual person from outside the palace. Please. Tell me about the Americas.”
Damn.
It took Geist a solid minute to think of a few stories. “Have you heard of Betsy Ross?”
Anastasie shook her head. “Oh, yes. Many times. It’s trite and boring. Tell me something exciting.”
“Well, er, there was a sorcerer by the name of Mike Flint. He was the king of the keelboaters because he used to brawl other men on a rickety keelboat. Does that interest you?”
“Were the fights gruesome?” Anastasie asked, covering her mouth with her fingers.
“They were rough and tumble.”
“Fascinating. Please continue. In detail.”
“Uh… why don’t you tell me about your family? Your brother… you said he was ill.”
The sight of Alexei wouldn’t leave Geist’s mind. He had bled, even when healed, and now it was apparent Anastasie couldn’t leave the palace because she was his keeper. Could the bleeding have something to do with the Eyes of the Kaiser?
Anastasie fidgeted with her strawberry-blonde hair, her hands shaking.
“Is everything all right?” Geist asked.
“My brother is going through a bout of illness,” Anastasie said, no emotion in her voice. “He has recovered from worse. I’m sure he will pull through. We must have faith.”
Although she wore white, Geist saw no red smudges or stains. Somehow, she had interacted with her brother without coming into contact with his blood.
“Have you tried healing sorcery?” Geist asked.
“We… we have. Many times.”
Her voice wavered, and Geist knew it was only a matter of moments before the grand duchess lost her composure. Should she push the subject? Geist wanted to press further.
“Does the magic not work?” she asked.
Anastasie shook her head. “You don’t understand. A magical blood disease runs through the line of our mother, all the way from the first sorcerers. Sorcery makes it worse. Except… except for Honorable Rasputin. His sorcery always made Mama and Alexei feel better, but without him, I don’t know what we’ll do.”
Geist took her seat back at the table and then offered a smile. “One of my squad is a knowledgeable researcher of sorcery. Do you think Alexei would be comfortable with another sorcerer examining his illness?”
“You would order one of your men to help Alexei?” Anastasie asked, breathless. She reached out and grabbed Geist’s hand. “I knew Americans were kind, but I never imagined you would play the role of guardian angels.”
“Uh, well, I can’t promise anything, but I trust Defiant to find some solution to the problem.”
It was more than that. Geist didn’t want to drag Defiant around the Russian Empire without his glasses. Alexander Palace was also one of the most fortified places within a few hundred miles. The Imperial Guard, run by a sorcerer, stalked the palace grounds, and the entire city seemed to have soldiers waiting in every corner.
Defiant would be safe while he recovered. And Geist could take her team to deal with House Menshov.
“Alexei loves the Ethereal Squadron,” Anastasie said as she smiled. It was like she regained her strength and happiness—one moment she was melancholy and the next exuberant. “Ever since Papa made him a Lance Corporal, he’s enjoyed issuing orders to sorcerers.”
“Alexei? Isn’t he too young to be a Lance Corporal?”
“All sorcerer men of the Royal House Romanov take officer rank in the military.” Anastasie shook her head. “Since our sorcery revolves around the fog of war, it’s a tradition.”
“You say it like you’re disappointed.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m worried. Alexei has never taken well to victoriam magnam sorcery. And, well, neither has Papa. I fear they may rely on it in the wrong moment, and then—”
The door to the dining room opened a second time, and multiple servants walked in to present the food. They brought duck, steamed vegetables, a fine soup, and a tray of tea.
Geist jumped up and took the food immediately. The grand duchess’s hands still trembled, and Geist couldn’t stand the thought of her pouring her own drink and spilling on herself. She took painstaking care to serve the grand duchess, including pouring her tea.
“You have a lovely dress,” Geist said as she scooted the cup farther from the edge of the table.
“It was my Grandmama’s. It means the world to me to wear it like this. Almost as if I’m a woman now.”
Geist understood why spilling tea would have ruined the evening. Victory is always right.
Anastasie stroked the velvet ivy and smiled to herself. “It’s so difficult, with this war, to really grasp what’s going on. I just hope that I’m helping the people of Russia. I… sometimes feel like I’m too small to affect things, even if I’m a grand duchess.”
The sentiment hit home with Geist. When she had lived under her father’s rule, and in her mother’s care, she had felt powerless. So many things were out of her control. But after joining the Ethereal Squadron, Geist understood what it meant to take the reins of personal destiny. Sometimes the weight of responsibility dug deep, but it was better than watching as everything was decided for her.
“Have you thought about joining the war effort officially?” Geist asked.
Anastasie sighed. “Papa says I must watch Mama and Alexei.”
“What if Defiant, my squad member, can help them? Would you consider joining then?”
“I wouldn’t hesitate.” Anastasie scooted to the edge of her chair, her eyes wide, her posture straight. “I’ve tried to tell Papa—he doesn’t listen to anyone, though—but I would love to help the people and do things with my own hands.”
The desperation in her voice added to Geist’s realization. Anastasie wanted to protect her country. She wanted to fight in the war. Maybe not like a special operative, since she was so young and frail, but perhaps as someone like Cross, Defiant, or Tinker. Someone who helped and mattered in the war effort. And with an ability like victoriam magnam sorcery, it could be very useful.
“Thank you,” Anastasie said as she brought the teacup to her lips. “I appreciate your time. The moment I know when my papa will arrive at the palace, I will let you know. He’s far to the south, however, and he seems preoccupied…”
“I have things to accomplish in the meantime,” Geist said. “As long as you sent my warning, I think we’ll be able to save all the Russian sorcerers who are in danger.”
Anastasie nodded. “Yes. Of course, commander. I will make sure your messages are delivered.” Then she saluted—with the wrong hand—which got Geist laughing.
An odd thought crossed her mind. Wouldn’t Anastasie’s sorcery be better with four people who could empower her? Would it help all of the Russian Empire to have blanket of sorcery that
hindered all enemy forces?
“Anastasie, would you mind if I left a soldier to watch over you?” Geist asked. “Battery has potentia sorcery as well. Perhaps he can aid you in some way.”
The grand duchess placed her cup on its saucer and answered with a squirrel-like giggle. “I would like that very much, especially if he can tell me stories of the front.”
Geist stood at the edge of the Alexander Palace, watching the harsh winds bringing with them another layer of snow. The morning breeze, although chilly, was refreshing. A single motorcar drove up the driveway and parked at the bottom of the stairs.
“You don’t want to bring Victory?” Dreamer asked.
He had donned his illusionary disguise once again, masking his origins and resuming the identity of an Englishman.
“He needs to rest,” Geist said.
Dreamer shrugged. “They have healers here, even if they aren’t as proficient as the healers near the front lines in Verdun. He can get a bit of sorcery and be capable of moving.”
“I’d prefer he rested.”
And she already knew what Victory had to say. He said the trek would likely happen without incident and that they would return quicker than expected. With such good news, Geist almost couldn’t wait until the operation was over. They had only two more houses to warn.
Vergess took his place by her side, silent as usual. He crossed his arms and kept his gaze distant, though anytime Geist looked over, he met her glance.
Blick stretched. “It’s just us four, then? No one else?”
“I think we’ll be able to handle House Menshov,” Geist replied. “We’ll take them to the Petrograd ports. If the boats aren’t running, we’ll take a train back to Riga, and then they can leave.”
“How long do you think we’ll be?”
“A couple days at the most. It should be a quick outing.”
Eighteen
House Menshov
Without the aid of someone who spoke Russian, navigating the streets of Petrograd proved troublesome. Ice coated everything. From her boots, to her pants, to her breath—it burned to breathe through her nose, and it stung if her eyes remained open too wide.
Fortunately, Dreamer found a carriage with a driver who understood enough broken English to take them to their destination, and the sorcerers of House Menshov were marked as speaking both English and French fluently. There was no need to have a Russian guide for their short trek.
They continued through the streets of Petrograd, one side of the road marked with white words and rude pictures—the opposite side marked with red in equal amounts of vulgarity. The frigid weather hardly bothered the denizens as they shuffled by, but Geist was certain she would never know warmth again. She shivered continually, even within the safety of her carriage. She glanced over at Vergess, who sat next to her, but she turned away, knowing full well it wasn’t the time to engage in physical contact. Even if he would be warm.
“Lean on him,” Blick said, his voice straight to Geist’s mind.
She snapped her attention to him—he sat directly across from her—and he replied with a coy smirk. Unable to respond with telepathic words, Geist shook her head and looked out the window. What was his game? To irritate her?
“Why wouldn’t you?” Blick continued. “Victory isn’t here to talk about protocol. Defiant isn’t here to get snippy. Dreamer and I won’t mind.” He elbowed Dreamer and said aloud, “You have things to write down, right?”
“I suppose I do,” Dreamer said. He brushed himself off like Blick had left dander and opened his book.
Geist didn’t know why Blick was so insistent. He motioned for her to get it over with, and she responded with a slight shake of her head, hoping Vergess and Dreamer weren’t seeing her bizarre mannerisms. Why must everyone be so difficult?
“Place your hand on his shoulder,” Blick said. He mimicked the gesture with Dreamer—his hand half an inch from Dreamer’s shoulder, so as to not disturb him. “Then tell Vergess you’re cold and you want him to cuddle you.”
Geist glared. I’m not doing that. Not here. Not now. She hoped her expression conveyed the message clear enough.
“C’mon. I’m trying to help you. I saw the way you both danced back at the palace. I’ve seen coatracks with better chemistry.” Blick smiled wide as he leaned forward. “I know. You can place a hand on his knee. Trust me. It’s a clear indication a woman likes a man. The knee is one of the most intimate places a person can touch another. In public, I mean.”
“I’m not touching his knee,” Geist mouthed. What is his problem?
“Is something wrong?” Vergess asked.
Geist shook her head and leaned away. “N-nope. I’m fine. You’re knee. I mean—everything is fine. No problems.”
The following silence twisted in Geist’s gut. Why was Blick trying so hard? She knew she was awkward—she had been ever since she was a girl—and having someone point it out only made the situation worse. This wasn’t the time for such behavior. It never is, she thought. And it won’t be until the war is over.
Blick made a dramatic show of placing his own hand on his own knee. Geist narrowed her eyes into a glower. As if to extra make the point, Blick placed his hand on Dreamer’s knee.
With a sarcastically slow glance, Dreamer turned his attention to Blick, one eyebrow cocked, his pencil poised on the page of his book. The two men stared at each other for a moment, and Geist knew Blick had to be explaining the situation with his telepathy. Dreamer let out a short exhale and returned to his book, unfazed by the bizarre interaction.
“See?” Blick said. “We’re all doing it. No need to get self-conscious.” He motioned with his other hand, urging Geist to continue. She pursued her lips and glared, her face hot, her body no longer chilled from the Russian temperature.
How do Victory and Battery put up with this at home?
Vergess stared at Blick, then his hand. “Are you… touching Dreamer?”
“We were having a moment,” Blick replied as he took his hand back. “No big deal.”
“Uh-huh.”
The bumpy carriage ride didn’t help anyone’s mood. The two men glowered at each for a long moment. After a few minutes, they turned away, and Blick became silent. Fortunately, the journey didn’t take much longer. A couple hours and they arrived on the long road to House Menshov. A large fence and gate blocked the path to the estate. The carriage driver rode up, and men in heavy coats walked over from their posts, cigarettes held tightly in their mouths.
Geist opened the carriage door and stepped outside. It took all her willpower to keep her teeth from chattering.The grand duchess had given them a code word to use.
“American,” she said and then pointed to herself. “We’re here to see Lady Menshov.”
The men gave each other quick glances before waving their hands. They walked back to their post and opened the wrought iron gates. The screech of the iced-over metal hurt Geist’s ears, but she was glad they hadn’t attempted to turn her away.
She hopped back in the carriage and then stared down the long road to the manse.
To Geist’s surprise, every half mile there was another fence and iron gate, each manned with men. They carried rifles and open sidearms. Some even had a bandoleer of grenades. They conducted themselves not as sorcerers, but as normal men. There were enough to fill a whole company—and there was no way House Menshov had hired them all in the last few hours. Which meant they had already been on the estate long before Geist had sent her warning.
After the first gate, however, the men didn’t require any more questioning. They opened each gate without any words exchanged.
“So, Victory predicted this meeting would be quick, huh?” Blick asked.
Geist nodded. “He said we would likely return to Alexander Palace after only a few hours here.”
“Maybe they agree to leave the Russian Empire and they already have their bags packed.”
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Vergess said as he stared out the
frosted carriage window. “Look at the decorations on the fences and walls.”
Geist glanced outside. The midafternoon light streamed through thinning clouds and illuminated the Menshov estate. Each fence, made with iron bars and stone walls, had been meticulously crafted. The Menshov coat of arms—a man in heavy armor atop a two-headed horse—had been carved into the stone and twisted into the wrought iron.
“What about them?” Geist asked.
“Count the number of gates we had to pass through.”
“Several. What’s your point?”
“My point is that this house is somewhat entrenched in their history. We haven’t even reached the front door, and already they’ve made it clear that they value their home, blood, and prestige. If I had to guess, Victory’s vision was of us failing to convince them and returning without success.”
Blick tapped the glass with his knuckles. “Maybe we discover they’re well protected. The grand duchess did warn them, after all. If they aren’t going to die, that’s just as good as bringing them back to Verdun.”
“I’m on Vergess’s side,” Dreamer interjected. “Out of all the houses we were supposed to visit, this one is the oldest and has been an aristocratic house longer than the rest. I figured they would offer the most resistance to moving.”
The more Geist heard about the family, the more she agreed with the assessment. Did that mean House Menshov would send them away within the hour? The thought irritated Geist more than expected.
We already lost sorcerers at House Kott. I’m not going to let House Menshov fall to the same squad of enemies. The Eyes of the Kaiser, coupled with an infiltration specialist like a fleshcrafter, make everything unsafe—it doesn’t matter how many fences they have. I’ll have to force the sorcerers of House Menshov to see reason.
A Company of Monsters (The Sorcerers of Verdun Book 2) Page 16