The Midnight Court

by Jane Kindred

  …

  Belphagor walked beside Misha through a hall of mirrors that reflected the leshi’s unnaturally green eyes from all sides. Misha smiled and held out his hand, and Belphagor took it. He wanted to touch more of him and couldn’t think why he hadn’t already.

  “You seem tired, Belyi.” Misha rubbed his thumb along the bones of Belphagor’s hand.

  “Tired? I suppose I am. I feel as if I haven’t relaxed in ages.”

  “I can see that.” Misha’s eyes were sad for a moment. “Come. I know just the thing for you.” He opened a door in one of the mirrored panels of the corridor onto a cool, moonlit terrace overlooking a calm Mediterranean shore. It was furnished with a reclining couch, piled with pillows, and draped with silk and velvet in soothing colors of soft greens and steel blues.

  “Take off your clothes,” Misha murmured in his ear.

  Belphagor slipped out of his leather jacket, letting it fall onto the tiles of the terrace, and sat down on the couch to pull off his boots. He stripped down to his skin without hesitation.

  Misha stroked his arm. “Lie down. On your stomach.”

  Belphagor obeyed, and Misha made a soft sound of surprise as he straddled Belphagor’s thighs.

  “Who did this to you, Belyi?” He stroked the deep scars that raked Belphagor’s back.

  “An angel,” murmured Belphagor, relaxing under his touch.

  “Figures.” Misha spread his hands over Belphagor’s skin, the coolness of them easing every tension, and whispered in his ear. “Let me take care of you. You just lie still.” The vine-like hair dangled over Belphagor’s shoulders. Misha began to kiss his back, moving slowly down his spine, and Belphagor sighed. “You’re mine now, Belyi, and you don’t need to worry about anything,” he said against his skin. “You belong to me.”

  …

  Zeus’s latest visit caught Love off guard. He’d let himself into her cell while she was sleeping, waking her with a hand against her mouth.

  “Be quiet,” he whispered in her ear. “You don’t want to wake the baby.”

  She was lying on her side and he’d climbed onto the cot behind her. Love tried to shove him away, but Ola stirred, and Zeus pulled up her robe, unconcerned with what Ola might witness. Love lay still, terrified that Ola would wake, and let him do as he pleased, one hand against the wall to keep the cot from rocking.

  “Good girl,” he murmured when he was done. “I like that you’ve stopped wearing underwear. Did you do that just for me?” He buttoned up and leaned down once more to whisper to her, his breath hot against her ear. “The really great thing is, Nephilim are only fertile with other Nephilim. We can have as much fun together as we like.”

  When he was gone, Love pulled down her robe and stared at the ceiling, her hand to her mouth to keep from crying aloud. She lay awake until Kirill came with breakfast.

  As he set up the tray, he paused and observed her. “Something is wrong?”

  Love glanced at Ola, who was yawning sleepily, only half awake. “Do you believe in demons?”

  He answered in Russian. “The Lord allows us to be tempted by evil spirits. If we walk in Christ’s light, we will not fear them.”

  “What if they come into one’s room in the middle of the night? What does the Lord expect us to do then?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Zeus was here.”

  “Here? He came here?”

  “While I was sleeping.”

  Kirill’s face turned white and he nearly dropped the tray on the floor. “He is not to do this!” he exclaimed in angelic. “I tell him not to do this!”

  “Apparently, he does what he wants.” Love lowered her voice to a whisper. “You have to let us out of here, Kirill. You know this isn’t right. God cannot want this.”

  Kirill pulled at his beard, his face twisted in an agony of conflict. “I will pray.”

  “You do that,” Love said bitterly.

  She hadn’t expected him to do anything more, but the next morning when he came with the tray, Kirill placed a small white pill on her palm.

  Love picked it up. “What’s this?”

  “I have pray. I pray all night.” There were dark hollows under his bloodshot eyes that suggested this wasn’t hyperbole. “God does not answer.” He looked down at her hand and closed her fingers over the pill. “I bring what you ask for.”

  He’d brought her the morning-after pill.

  “This is wrong.” Kirill was shaking. “But what God allows of His messenger is more wrong.”

  Love didn’t bother to try to convince him Zeus wasn’t God’s messenger. “Thank you.”

  “Do not thank me. I have condemned you. I have condemned us both.”

  Love stared at the pill after he’d gone. Zeus’s delusion about their reproductive compatibility notwithstanding, she was grateful to have it. She wondered if she should just ask Kirill for the box of Postinor to avoid having this uncomfortable scene every time she needed it. When she realized what she was thinking, that she’d accepted in her head that being raped by Zeus had become a part of her life, it was all she could do not to kick the breakfast tray into the wall.

  Ola was smiling up at her, eating her piece of toast.

  She held the toast up to Love. “Lub eat.”

  Love took a bite to amuse her and Ola giggled. She couldn’t let this happen any longer. She could not allow Zeus to touch her again in front of Ola.

  …

  Zeus had smelled of another woman. From the narrow bed they shared, Vashti watched him through the open door to the tiny bathroom while he showered. He seemed pleased with himself. He’d come back late from a meeting with the monk, he said. But he didn’t smell of monk. He smelled of pussy. He’d fucked Vashti enthusiastically as always, perhaps more enthusiastically, but the scent was undeniable, and it was not her own.

  She confronted him when he came out of the shower. “Are you fucking that gypsy?”

  He stood before her, naked and dripping onto the thick carpets they’d laid down on the wood floors to cut the cold as winter came on like a bracing knife.

  “Why the hell would I fuck a gypsy when I can fuck you?”

  “I don’t know.” Vashti flashed a gold spark of radiance at him in anger. “Why the hell would you?”

  “You’re being paranoid.” Zeus picked up his towel and came toward her as he dried off. He climbed over her on the bed and kissed her, holding her down when she tried to pull her mouth away from him. “It’s going to be a long winter, Vash. Don’t go all hormonal on me.”

  Vashti pushed him off. “And what about that? I thought we only had to stay until the freeze. Now you say we’re going to be stuck here in this primitive village through a goddamned arctic winter?”

  “Brother Kirill is having trouble controlling the girl.” Zeus looked unconcerned, almost smug, as he dressed. “I think the Party is reconsidering the wisdom of keeping the child alive, but until the leader comes around to the sensible solution, we’re to make certain she’s secure. And since the monk doesn’t have the balls to ensure that, we’re stuck here.” Zeus pulled on his boots and bundled up to go out. “Since you’re obviously having your period, I’m going to the tavern for a pint.”

  Vashti grabbed a glass from the nightstand and hurled it at his head as he went out, and the glass shattered against the door. It was barely noon and he was drinking already. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and went to warm up in the shower. She might not be able to keep Zeus from fucking around, but she could damned well put a stop to him doing it with that gypsy bitch.

  …

  Love was sitting on the floor with Ola building a castle out of blocks when the door to the cell was flung open. Bundled in a heavy coat laden with snow, Vashti stared down at her in a rage.

  “That’s right, sweetheart,” Love murmured to Ola. “You keep making it taller while Love talks to Vashti.” She stood up as the other woman slammed the door.

  “You need to keep your little toy bo
x shut around my man,” she snapped when Love approached.

  Love crossed her arms and stared up at her silently.

  “Have you nothing to say, you little slag?”

  “I thought I was supposed to be under a vow of silence.”

  “Don’t be flippant with me. Right now you’re going to talk. Have you been fucking him or not?”

  “Watch your mouth around Ola.”

  Vashti grabbed her arm, her voice a harsh whisper. “You don’t answer me and I’m going to beat the devil out of you. I want to hear you say it.”

  “No. I have not.”

  “Then why did I smell you on him when he came home last night?”

  Love met her enraged eyes with fury of her own and replied under her breath, “Because he raped me. And not for the first time.”

  Vashti slapped her so hard she stumbled against the wall. “Liar!”

  Ola began to cry.

  Love went to her and picked her up, soothing her. “It’s okay, sweetie. We just had an argument. I’m okay.”

  The tall woman stared at the two of them, her skin clammy with perspiration despite the bitter cold that seeped in through the ancient monastery walls. Ola hid her face and Vashti turned without a word and left them.

  …

  She had to talk to Nebo. Her brother was the only one she could trust, the only one who understood her. He was her twin, and though they hadn’t always agreed on things, Nebo would die for her, as she would for him.

  Vashti trudged along the snowy path with her head down against the wind. Her cell phone sometimes worked outside the village near the shore and so she kept it charged and in her pocket. She found a signal and pressed Nebo’s speed dial, careful not to move from the spot.

  He picked up before the first ring had finished. “Ti.” Even without caller ID, he would have known it was her. It was just something they did. “Where the hell are you?”

  “I love you, too.”

  He ignored her sarcasm. “Do you realize what’s been happening? Do you know how much trouble you’re in?”

  “I’m beginning to. Nebo, I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

  “You think?” She could hear the expression on his face, the one that said he was no longer on her side, not in this. She’d disappointed him. “I think the Grigori are going to kill you, Ti. I don’t know how I can get you out of this one.”

  Vashti gripped the phone as if she were grabbing his collar. “Listen to me, Nebo. This isn’t about me. I don’t care what happens to me. Zeus is…” Her breath caught in her throat as she realized what she was about to say. She couldn’t do it. It couldn’t be true.

  Nebo’s voice was low and threatening. “Is he hurting you?”

  She shook her head, though he couldn’t see her. “Not me. There’s…” She was silent for a moment, and Nebo swore at her.

  “Oh, my God, Ti. Has he hurt that baby? What have you done?”

  “The baby’s fine.” Vashti took a breath. “She’s safe. We just want to keep her away from the Malakim.” Tears were freezing on her cheeks. “If Heaven gets that much power, the Nephilim will be the first to suffer for it.”

  “Now you’re just quoting him,” said Nebo with disgust.

  “There’s a girl,” she said quickly. “A nanny. He took her to watch the baby.” The phone shook in her hand and she almost dropped it.

  There was silence for a moment on the other end. “Ti. What did he do?”

  Vashti bit her lip hard to keep from bursting into tears like a child. “Oh, Jesus, Nebo. I am so, so stupid.” The frozen tears were piling up on top of one another, impossible to stop. “I thought I knew him. I never thought he could—God, I thought he loved me. I loved him.” She gripped her stomach, afraid she was going to be sick. “Fuck.” Vashti held the phone away for a moment, cursing while she got herself together. “I guess none of that matters now, does it? I’m going to get her off the island. But I need your help.”

  …

  Everything was frozen outside. Love could no longer see anything through the little window—though there would have been scarcely anything to see if she could. The sun now began to set not long after one o’clock in the afternoon, up less than four hours. Kirill had given her a thick black sweater to wear over the podryasnik to keep warm, and she was finally glad of the woolen knee socks, even wishing they were full-length stockings.

  Ola had grown out of everything she had come to the monastery with. If Love’s count since the autumn equinox was correct, she was nearly eighteen months old now, and she was no longer an infant. Kirill brought winter clothes that had been donated for the poor to bundle her in, and Love managed to keep her warm.

  She watched Ola play for hours at putting construction bricks together, quieter than a child ought to be at such a young age. She was worried about how Ola’s development might be suffering from this confinement, and she was saddened by how much her parents were missing. How much more would they miss? How much longer could this go on? Kirill had taken to not speaking to her for a day or two if she needled him about how long they meant to keep them here or tried to persuade him of the wisdom of letting them go. At least he seemed to be keeping Zeus away.

  Just when she’d begun to relax enough to sleep without keeping one eye open, however, she woke once more in the early hours of the morning to the sound of the bolt sliding back on the cell door. But this time she was ready for him.

  She kept the leather belt she wore under her robe wrapped in her fists at night, and when Zeus slipped his hand beneath her robe, she turned swiftly and threw the belt around his neck, sliding out of the bed behind him and pulling it tight. The element of surprise gave her an advantage her size did not, and he struggled ineffectively for a moment, strangling beneath her grip. It had all happened in silence, and if she could just hang on, he might pass out before Ola’s sleep was disturbed.

  But Zeus recovered from the surprise. He swung back with his elbow and struck her in the chest hard enough to knock the breath from her. As her grip slackened on the belt, he yanked it from her hands and from his neck.

  “So this is how you want to play it.” He backhanded her with the belt folded in his hand and thrust her face into the pillow so she could barely breathe as he pulled up her robe. She hadn’t expected him to be so bold in front of Ola. Instead of his body, however, the flat of the belt met her bare skin as he swung it viciously against her thighs.

  Struggling for air, she could hear Ola crying in her corner of the cot, and she cursed herself for underestimating Zeus’s sadism. It wasn’t an idle threat the first time he’d slipped into her room. He would do as he liked whether Ola was asleep beside her or awake to witness it. Love tore at his hand against the back of her head, but he was impossibly strong, and the belt was raining down blows on her with a brutal force.

  The room was going black when Zeus’s arm suddenly paused and his grip loosened on her hair. Love turned her head, gasping for air as she pushed away from the pillow, and Zeus dropped to the floor. Kirill stood over him. From Zeus’s back, the handle of a heavy blade protruded, surrounded by a widening pool of blood.

  The monk stared blankly at the red stain. “He cannot do this in God’s house.”

  Love swung Ola into her arms, turning her away from the sight as Ola’s crying reached a pitch of hysteria.

  Kirill dropped to his knees, crossing himself and bowing toward the floor. “Gospodi Iisuse Khriste, Syne Bozhii, pomilui mya greshnago.” He repeated the words like a charm as he made the gestures.

  Love couldn’t sway him from his vigil. She had to keep Ola from seeing. She curled up with Ola in her arms, rocking her back to sleep.

  “Kirill.” She prodded him periodically, but he was beyond hearing her. Love rocked with Ola, wondering how long it would be before someone discovered what he’d done.

  When Ola was finally asleep, Love tucked the blankets around her and slipped from the cot to kneel down beside the monk.

  She put her hand on his shoul
der. “You were only defending me. I think he meant to kill me.”

  Kirill rocked forward, repeating his prayer.

  “We have to do something, Kirill. We can’t just leave the body lying there.” Though it was cold enough, she thought as she shivered, that it would probably keep.

  Before she could persuade him to take action, however, the door opened.

  Vashti stared at the scene in horror, but instead of calling for help, she stepped inside and shut the door. “What happened?” She stopped in the midst of peeling out of her mittens, looking down at the belt still gripped in Zeus’s lifeless hand. Her dark eyes were ashamed when she looked at Love. “In front of the baby?” When Love nodded, Vashti looked away. “Oh, God. Fuck. Fuck you, Zeus, you son of a bitch.”

  Kirill paused in his rocking to flinch at her language.

  She crouched down and touched her fingers to Zeus’s throat, and Love jumped in shock as he stirred slightly at the touch. Vashti looked up at them sharply and then back at Zeus. With a careful, deliberate motion, she covered Zeus’s nose and mouth with her hand and held it firmly in place, pressing down as his body convulsed briefly beneath her and then was still.

  Devatoe: The Unseen World

  from the memoirs of the Grand Duchess Anazakia Helisonovna of the House of Arkhangel’sk

  The heady smell of roses woke me. We were covered in them, as if the climbing vines of the wild bushes surrounding the pool had grown over us. I lifted one to my nose from the vine winding around Vasily’s forearm and breathed in its warm perfume, the pale pink petals like silk against my fingers. Vasily drew his arms tighter around me, his beard tickling the back of my neck.

  He murmured against my skin. “You smell like roses.”

  I laughed softly. “It isn’t me. They’re everywhere.”

  “So they are.” He kissed my shoulder. “Where did they come from?”

  I shrugged and closed my eyes. I was nearly asleep again when something cool touched my cheek. I brushed at it in irritation, and then felt more falling on my skin. I looked up into a light but steady snow. Though it didn’t seem cold here, the pool beside us was frozen over. But the grass was still green, the roses seemingly unaffected by this precipitation.