by Jenni Wiltz
Starinov pulled the double doors closed behind them. “A good place for parties, yes?” he said, turning to Natalie. “I announced my candidacy for prime minister here. I have many happy memories of this room. Today, you are going to give me another.”
“Where are Beth and Constantine?”
“Gregor and Arkady are bringing them now.”
“Please let them go. They can’t help you.”
“Don’t ask for the impossible.”
“You are,” she snapped. “Why do you think I can do what decades of your Soviet flunkies couldn’t do?”
Belial shifted his weight, raising his head to stare at the door. They are closing in on us. I don’t like this.
A scuffling sound from beyond the threshold grew louder as two more guards marched Constantine and Beth in at gunpoint. They pushed the two captives into the ballroom, locked the doors from the inside, and took up positions on either side of Starinov, guns drawn.
Beth rushed over and grasped her hands. “Nat, you look ill. It’s Belial, isn’t it?”
Natalie nodded. “He’s trying to get out.”
Beth turned on Starinov. “She needs alcohol. She’s no good to you without it.”
The prime minister raised one pale eyebrow. “Aren’t you the noble nurse. I’ve never heard of anyone prescribing alcohol for insanity.”
“I’ve been taking care of her my whole life! I know what she needs.”
Constantine came up to her and touched her face softly. She saw how tired he looked. The lines around his eyes had grown deeper, like canyons cut into a child’s relief map. “Will it happen like before? In the motel?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Maybe.”
“You need to help us,” Beth said to Starinov.
“Why? If she can’t give me the password, you will.”
“Both of those letters are ruined and Nat’s the only one who’s at least read one of them! If she were able to tell me what the first letter said, I might have a shot. But if she goes under, you’ll never get that goddamn password.”
It was quiet for a moment. Starinov’s face, devoid of all expression, studied each of them in turn. One of his guards grasped his gun tightly, caressing the trigger. “All right,” Starinov said softly. “I’ll give you five minutes. But if you don’t have that password when I return, I will begin shooting people one by one until you tell me what it is. Have I made myself clear?”
Natalie felt her heart stop. Belial, she thought. Stop reading.
“Go,” Starinov said to his guards. They marched to the door, opened it, and waited for him to exit. “Four minutes and fifty-nine seconds,” he said over his shoulder. The last guard pulled the door shut and locked it behind him.
Chapter Fifty-Six
July 2012
London, England
Constantine jumped up and ran to check the bay of mirrors. He peeled back the panels of curtains, looking for a hidden exit. “Nothing,” he called. He patrolled the room, looking for anything they could use as a weapon.
“Nat, he’s going to kill us. What the hell are we going to do?”
Natalie looked into her sister’s face. Beth’s lower lip had begun to tremble and the fire in her eyes was considerably dimmed. Stray hairs, wrinkles, smeared makeup—everything Beth usually had under control had gone awry. It’s all because of me, she thought. She forced a smile and touched her sister’s arm gently. “We’re going to give him the password.”
Beth’s blue eyes widened. “You know what it is?”
“Of course not. But I know who does.”
It took Beth a moment to follow. “Nat, you can’t be serious.”
“What are you two talking about?” Constantine asked. He finished his circuit of the room, finding nothing more dangerous than a half-empty bottle of vodka behind the bar. He brought it back and held it out to her. “Drink this. It might help.”
“I don’t want it any more.”
Just like Beth, it took him a moment to understand. “You can’t be serious.”
“Do either of you have a better idea?”
“Hell, yes,” Constantine said. “We convince Starinov to get those letters to a spectroscopy expert. Maybe there are traces of the ink deep down in the paper that we can’t see.”
“He won’t give us that much time.”
Beth sniffed and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “Nat, we’ve spent twenty years fighting this. How can you just give in?”
“Because I want you to see your son again.” She turned to Constantine. “And I want you to see your sister. Belial will tell me what I need to know.”
“No!” Beth cried. “What if he doesn’t let you go? What if you don’t come back?”
“I’ll come back. I always have.”
“There has to be another way.” Beth grabbed Natalie’s wrists and held on as tightly as she could. “Every time you go under, my first thought is that I don’t know what I’ll do without you. I need you, Nat. You’re my baby sister. Fighting for you is what I do…I don’t want you to go somewhere I can’t come with you.”
Natalie looked down at their clasped hands. Grigori said he’d seen an angel behind her, standing ready to defend them. Maybe, she thought, that angel was me. “I’m not a baby, Beth. Maybe this time I’m the one who has to protect you.”
Belial’s lips curled—Natalie felt the movement as surely as if she could see it. This is a very interesting conversation, little one.
“Of course it is,” she said, closing her eyes and surrendering. “It’s all about you. Belial, I need your help.”
“No!” Constantine yelled. She felt herself lifted into his arms. He carried her across the room and laid her down gently, away from the door, with a folded sweater beneath her head. “No,” he said, shaking her shoulders. “Open your eyes.”
Natalie kept them shut. She felt his fingers sweep her face, caressing her cheeks. Still she kept her heart closed. She focused on Belial’s movements—his lips, his wings, his fingertips. She shut out everything else, locking the pain and the hope away in her heart. When she spoke, it was only to him. “Belial, I need you to ask them what the password is.”
They aren’t going to tell us. It’s their secret.
“It will save my family. They’ll understand. I know they will.”
It might take me awhile to find them.
“Go. I don’t want anything to happen to Beth and Constantine.”
I need to give them something, a token that proves my intentions.
“Why would they doubt you? You’re an angel.”
My brother put his hand upon them and someone must atone.
“Here,” she said, pulling all the Romanov jewelry from her body. “Take it all with you.”
I will, little one. I’m going to release you while I look for them.
“I don’t care.”
You should care. I’ve always wanted you to care.
“Just go! Don’t come back without that password!”
All right, little one. As you wish. Belial bent his head and lifted his wings. They carried him up past the corporeal limits of her skull. She felt a rush, as if a gust of wind passed straight through her. The pain in her head vanished so suddenly that the absence of it hurt as much as the pain itself. A heavy silence hung over her brain, as thick and opaque as a coating of mud.
“He’s gone,” she muttered. She twisted her body and her clothes stuck to her, as if she’d been dunked in hot, sticky water.
“Nat?” Beth whispered.
Natalie opened her eyes. She was on the floor, propped up in Constantine’s lap. Beth knelt beside her, holding her hands. There were red marks on each of her wrists. “What happened?”
Over her head, Beth met Constantine’s glance. “Should I?” she said.
Constantine sighed. “They’ll tell her if we don’t.”
Beth opened her hand and revealed one of the earrings Natalie had been wearing. The wire loop that went through the ear was coate
d in blood.
Natalie raised her hand to her left ear and felt the earring’s mate. Then she tried her right ear and her hand came away red.
“You ripped it out,” Constantine said. “I don’t think you even realized what you were doing.”
“You pulled this one from your hair,” Beth said, holding out the diamond hair clip with a clump of matted hair still attached. “Once we figured out what you were doing, I told Constantine to hold you down.”
“I’m so sorry, lastochka,” he said, brushing his fingers over the red welts on her wrists. “You were struggling, and I was afraid of what you’d do to yourself if I let you up.”
“Belial needs these,” she said. “He was supposed to take them.”
“He’ll be fine,” Beth said quickly. “But I think we should hide them.”
“Are we alone?” Natalie asked, glancing over Constantine’s shoulder.
“Yes and no,” Beth said. “I screamed for help when your ear started bleeding and they all ran inside. Viktor wanted to stay and watch, but Starinov dragged him back out. He said they were going to call the Bank of England and make sure everything is ready. They left a guard by the door.”
Beth and Constantine locked gazes once more over her head. “They’ll return in a few minutes,” he said. “What are we going to do?”
“Belial needs more time,” Natalie said.
“Is that really our best option?” Beth said gently. “If you tell me what the first letter said, we can try to do this together. I’ll help you.”
“We wait,” Natalie insisted.
“Natalie, they’re going to start shooting people if we—”
“Then stall them! I can’t do it without Belial!” She looked up at Constantine, needing the warmth and solidity of his body. “You’ll tell them to wait, won’t you?”
“Natalia,” he said, brushing the hair back from her face and kissing her lips gently. Her heart clenched at the sweetness in his voice. “It’s not Belial. It’s you. There’s no one else who can do what you do.”
“But I don’t do anything! I black out and Belial does the rest. It’s not me!”
He took her hands in his, holding them against his chest. “I think it is you. It’s always been you.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re wrong.” Panic rose up in her like a tsunami. It was Belial who told her the answers, Belial who warned her when danger was near. Without his voice, she was lost. She was simply herself, and the world had already told her that she wasn’t good enough.
“I believe in you,” Constantine said.
The ballroom doors burst open as Starinov, Viktor, and three guards returned. Natalie felt her throat run dry with fear. Belial, where the hell are you?
Constantine lifted her to her feet, keeping an arm around her waist. One of the guards came to stand beside him, watching every movement of his hands.
Starinov’s cold blue eyes swept her from head to toe, blinking rapidly as they passed over her torn earlobe. “You will give me the password now.”
“I need more time. Please.”
He curled his upper lip, giving her another glimpse of his small, child-like teeth. “When I give an order, I expect it to be followed. Perhaps this will convince you of the gravity of our situation.” He drew a Makarov pistol and pointed it at Constantine’s forehead.
“No!” she screamed.
Starinov aimed, smiled, and pulled the trigger.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
July 2012
London, England
The guard standing next to Constantine fell backward, legs crumpling awkwardly beneath him. A small, dark hole pierced his forehead.
Beth screamed and Natalie felt her heart vault up into her throat. This wasn’t supposed to happen, she thought, clasping Constantine’s hand tightly. Belial, where are you?
“Are you convinced now?” Starinov said. “Because there is one minor detail I have not yet shared with you. We have only one chance to unlock this account. The Bank of England will seal it forever if you give me the wrong password.”
“What?” Viktor cried. His face had blossomed with deep purple bruises that stretched from his orbital sockets to his upper lip. “But who would get the money?”
“No one. The bank will destroy everything associated with the account.” Starinov stepped over to Natalie and tapped her forehead with the muzzle of the gun. “So you see, my dear, you have quite an important task. I am prepared to give you all the time you need to think so long as you know that I will kill one person in this room every three minutes until you’re done thinking.”
This can’t be happening, she thought. The floor seemed to sway under her feet. “What if I’m wrong?”
“Then you die.” Starinov pushed back the sleeve of his suit to look at his watch. “Your first three minutes begin now.” He folded his hands behind his back and began to pace around the room. His bodyguards trailed after him, exchanging nervous glances.
Beth’s gaze shifted to Viktor. “I say we tell Starinov to kill him first and buy ourselves another three minutes.”
“Think again, you ungrateful bitch. I’m management.”
“Then what are you doing standing with the help?”
“Leaving.” Viktor turned his back on them and went to join Starinov.
Natalie sank to her knees on the floor, painfully aware of the emptiness in her brain. “Belial,” she moaned. “Belial, where are you?” Images of herself and Beth as children flowed through her mind, little girls in white dresses. Then she began to confuse those two girls with the Romanov girls, and Seth’s features grew to look like the girls’ brother Alexei. “I don’t know who I am,” she cried. “I don’t know who I am!”
She felt someone pulling at her and she buried her head in her hands, shielding herself. All her life, she’d never known why Belial chose her or what he wanted from her. He was both a companion and a nuisance. She’d never asked him to intervene on her behalf before. Now, the one time she did, he was going to let her down. “Belial, tell me what it is!”
As soon as she said it, she felt a hot wind sweep through the room. Her eyes were already closed but she saw a white light behind them, stronger than any light bulb or candle could produce. There was a roar as if the air around her were being torn to pieces, and then her skull rattled with an enormous vibration. Feathers wrapped themselves around her brain as Belial gripped her and landed. She felt electric shocks of pain separate her skin from her bones and screamed.
Did I hurt you, little one? I didn’t mean to.
She gasped for words but couldn’t move her jaw. It hurt too much.
I’ll be still now.
“The password,” she whispered.
Ask your sister. It’s written on her face.
And then all was still. Belial’s wings lay tucked beside his shoulders and he crouched in silence. Her body ached with the pain of his re-entry and she felt that if she moved, she might shatter into pieces. Still, she blinked and tried to open her eyes.
Above her, Constantine and Beth hovered like worried parents. She looked into her sister’s eyes, blue and bright and filled with tears. “Beth,” she said, reaching for her sister’s hands.
“Yeah, sweetie?” Beth sniffed and held her hands in a strong, sure grip.
Everything she knew about love was what Beth had shown her. Beth defended her, sheltered her, fought for her, and taught her how to fight for herself—not that she was doing a good job of it. Her cheeks burned as she realized how ashamed she was of wasting her sister’s efforts. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Sorry? Nat, what the hell are you talking about?”
Constantine leaned in and smoothed her hair back from her face. She tried to smile at him. She wanted to tell him that she loved him the way Beth had taught her to love: with all her heart. But she had to tell Beth first. “Beth, without me, you would have been perfect. I know it. If I had come out right, I could have helped you.”
“No,” Beth
said, shaking her head fiercely. “You and Seth are my family. Everything I have was given to me so I could protect you.”
“I’m never going to be normal,” she said sadly. “You know that, right?”
“Do you think I care about that? Nat, you show me what it’s possible to do, even when things happen that we don’t understand. I wouldn’t know what faith is if it weren’t for you.”
Natalie threw her arms around her sister, holding her tight. Beth felt so thin in her arms and she wondered how long it had been since someone had taken care of her. “I’ve been an idiot,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Beth.”
“You’re still light years ahead of the rest of us, babe. You can do anything.”
Anything. The word echoed in her brain and made Belial smile. If Beth believed it, it must be true. Beth was never wrong. “We’re going to figure this out, aren’t we?”
“Of course we are. I was just waiting for you to realize it.”
Natalie let go of Beth and turned to Constantine. He bent forward and kissed her softly, hands in her hair. “Let’s do this.”
Across the room, Starinov’s voice echoed like a drill sergeant’s. “Three minutes,” he said, pointing his gun at a second bodyguard and pulling the trigger. The man tumbled to the ground, folding in on himself like a marionette being put away.
Natalie and Beth jumped, turning to see the lifeless body sprawl across the floor, a thick red pool spreading from his broken skull.
“Next time, I’ll choose someone from your side,” Starinov said. Viktor edged away from him, scuttling closer to her, Beth, and Constantine.
“God almighty,” Constantine muttered. “He’s serious.”
Natalie watched the dead man’s legs give a final twitch. “It’s not supposed to happen like this.”
Viktor leaned over her and sneered. “Exactly how was it supposed to happen, ducky? Was God’s gift to women here supposed to save you so you could live happily ever after?”
As Viktor spoke, Natalie felt something shift inside her brain, as if Belial had twitched his wings. It wasn’t a random movement, though—it was swift and purposeful, like the stroke of a finger on a piano key, or the tap a lucky blackjack player made to request another card. She had never felt him move that way before. “That’s it,” she said softly. “That’s the answer.”