by Jane Kindred
Vasily gave him a look that mixed disappointment with hopefulness. “Couldn’t I go with you? I’d love to help the cause.”
Gaspard considered. “Well… Auria did say he wanted us to recruit a few trustworthy demons. And he’s met you already. I suppose it’s only natural my manservant and protégé would be such a recruit.” He smiled tentatively as though convincing himself. “All right, then. Why not?” He held out his arm companionably. “Come along.”
The walk with Gaspard to the Left Bank was eerily familiar. Vasily had headed off to his ill-fated embroilment with Duke Elyon at one of these same villas two years ago, almost to the day. Auria’s was a more conservative abode, not so much a villa as a sort of townhouse. Vasily couldn’t imagine where the angel might be keeping half a dozen young girls in captivity.
The servant who let them in was plainly a common angel and not a demon. Vasily had never seen an angel in a service capacity before, but then he’d never spent much time around angels outside of Raqia. He hadn’t considered what place in society the lowest angels among the choirs might occupy. He wondered if their lives were much different than the average demon’s.
The angelic servant led them to a private parlor, scarcely sparing Vasily a glance. He was either well trained or extremely jaded. Auria and the other angels and merchant-class demons Vasily had met were already gathered, along with a handful of new faces.
Auria rose and greeted them, taking Vasily’s hand with a sort of odd half curtsy that seemed to be the Virtuous equivalent of a bow. As before, Vasily was a bit mesmerized by the exotic appearance. In his own environment, the Virtue seemed even more luminous, like a crystal facet turning in the light.
“I see you’ve brought us a recruit,” the Virtue commented to Gaspard, with no hint of disapproval.
Gaspard inclined his head. “My houseboy, Vasily. He’s an eager student. I’ve been educating him in the inequities created by demonkind itself, and the furthering of inequity that would be fostered by the sort of handout system the Liberation Decree would no doubt usher in.”
“Indeed.” Auria smiled at Vasily. “I’m so pleased to see a demon of your generation taking an interest in the betterment of his kind through honest effort.” Since all celestials—at least those who hadn’t fallen—maintained the appearance of early adulthood until a swift and graceful decline at the end of life, the comment seemed an odd one.
“How do you know what my generation is?”
Auria’s smile became indulgent. “I am a Virtue, my dear. It is in my nature to see things with clarity. Such as your mixed blood.”
One of the merchants laughed. “I believe anyone could see that.”
“The precise makeup?” The Virtue let his glittery gaze flit over Vasily as though seeing straight through to the blood in his veins. “I rather doubt it. If you did, I would venture to say you’d stand a pace back.” Vasily assumed the Virtue could somehow detect the potency of his element, but Auria didn’t elaborate. “Now that we’re all here, let’s get down to business, shall we? We need a volunteer to drive the queen’s carriage.” Auria glanced at Vasily. “I’m afraid you’d be much too conspicuous.”
Well, that was a mercy. The last time he’d been involved in a scheme to assassinate a member of the supernal family, he’d been “volunteered” to do the deed himself. Vasily reflected for a moment that his life had become exceedingly peculiar since he’d met Belphagor. He’d certainly never had a dull moment.
One of the merchants stepped up to take the job—a dangerous one, since the driver would not only have to steer the carriage toward the spot that had been identified without raising suspicion or being seen, but would be risking his own life if he became trapped by the conveyance and the horse—and it seemed a groom at the carriage house had already been bribed to loosen the rivets on the hub of one of the rear wheels. It soon became apparent that elaborate plans had already been made to execute the “accident”, and all that remained were a few final details.
Vasily had come there to see if he could find any hint of the girls, but he was fast becoming invested in stopping the murder of the queen of Heaven. When he realized they were speaking about “taking care of it” that very evening, he knew he’d have to find a way to get himself in the middle of it to try to stop it if he could. There was no time to take the news to Belphagor or send for Phaleg.
“What if she survives?” All heads turned toward him as he interrupted the discussion. “How are you going to ensure she drowns?”
“The river is extremely cold.” The Power who answered gave Vasily a look of disapproval and irritation that not only managed to convey that Vasily was obviously an imbecile but clearly indicated he wasn’t expected to contribute to the conversation.
He ignored the unspoken message. “Yes, but it’s no guarantee. She might be a good swimmer and a quick thinker. And what if someone nearby sees and tries to help?”
Auria smiled at him patiently. “We’ve arranged for the spot to be very secluded. The driver will tell her he needs to take a detour because the ice isn’t safe on the main path. The break in the ice will be a terrible irony.” The Power laughed, and Auria frowned at him. “This is an angel’s life we’re taking, a member of the supernal family. Make no mistake, Major General, this is a somber necessity, a terrible thing that nevertheless must be done.”
The major general went red in the face—an impressive thing to see on such a brawny, bearded Power. He cleared his throat and tried to recover his poise. “And anyway, she’ll be bundled up in layers of heavy clothing and trapped inside the carriage as it goes under. She’ll sink like a stone.”
“Still,” said Vasily, “things don’t always go off as planned. The ice might not break completely. The carriage might not fully submerge if any of the wheels are on solid ice. Someone should be stationed there to keep her from benefiting from dumb luck. I’ll gladly volunteer for that. I know some of you would be uncomfortable having to get so closely involved, but I have personal reasons for wanting to make sure this happens, no matter what.”
Auria studied him with interest. “What reasons would those be?”
The volunteer carriage driver eyed him with a look of dawning recognition. “You’re the demon they arrested for the attempt on the principality’s life at the Council Square Uprising. But you were exonerated.”
Vasily let just a touch of fire show in his eyes, drawing a few gasps from among the angels in the room. “A member of the supernal family used me as a scapegoat in his own little scheme of advancement, and the principality was all too happy to have a demon to hang before the bastard confessed.”
“Duke Elyon,” said Auria. “So you’re that demon.” He nodded slowly. “I can see how you’d have a personal stake in this. You understand we aren’t doing this because we have anything against the queen herself or the supernal family. It’s for the sake of Heaven.”
Vasily nodded gruffly. “All the same, I’m motivated.”
“Indeed.” Auria steepled his hands against his lips for a moment. “Your protégé has good instincts, Gaspard. Yes. Let’s station him under the bridge as our security, should anything go wrong.”
And that was how Vasily came to be standing on the ice beneath the Alimielov Bridge awaiting the arrival of the queen of Heaven and trying to think of a way to stop the carriage when it came into view.
The pair of Lost Boys Belphagor had sent to follow Vasily at a discreet distance had reported back. Of course he’d had him followed. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Vasily; it was Gaspard and his angelic friends he didn’t trust.
Belphagor was putting another log on the fire when the boys returned. Anzhela stopped them at the door and made them take off their muddy shoes and put on their tapochki.
Sparks jumped as the ashes settled in the fireplace beneath the added log, making him think of Vasily’s skin. “What’s the news?”
Olivier came to the fire to warm his hands. “He went with that stuffy merchant across the river to the L
eft Bank. We followed them to the angel’s house and had to hide in a window well at the side of the building to wait for him to come back out. They were in there quite a while, and it was fuh-reezing.”
Belphagor grinned. “Good job. Extra dessert for you both tonight. I think Anzhela’s baking an apple pie. Giving the baker downstairs a run for his money.” The scents of cinnamon and cardamom had been curling out of the kitchen all afternoon, mingling with the dusty scent of burning wood. “Where did they go after?”
“The merchant went back home,” said Danila. “Ruby headed toward the city with another demon.”
“Toward the city?” Belphagor put the iron poker back in its stand and straightened. “Did you catch anything they said? Did they mention their business in Elysium?”
“Ruby growled something about not knowing the Alimielov Bridge from his asshole.”
Belphagor laughed. His boy had a way with words. Heading for a bridge on the Neba, though—that was troubling. And the fact that he hadn’t let Belphagor know could only mean he was either being coerced or couldn’t afford to blow his cover because something critical was about to go down. Like the queen’s carriage.
“We found something else, though,” said Olivier with excitement. “While we were huddling in the window well, something hit the cellar window from below. There were bars on it, and it was frosted over, so it was hard to see, but I managed to clear off a little square with my sleeve.” He paused, drawing up straight, with his chest puffed out. “We found the girls.”
The tinny twang of a pie plate hitting the kitchen floor rang out, spiraling rapidly against the tile like a spun coin until a wobble slowed the momentum of its noisy revolutions to a stop.
Anzhela appeared in the doorway, her face white and her chest heaving. “How many?”
Olivier glanced up at her. “All of ’em, I think. Couldn’t talk to ’em, though. Glass was too thick.”
“They’re all there? They’re okay?”
Olivier shrugged. “I guess. Looked okay to me.”
“Well done.” Belphagor let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he nodded his approval. He’d half expected to discover Kezef had given him only one of several buyers, or was making it up entirely.
“We tried to pry the bars off, but the bolts are soldered in place.”
Anger flared in him at the thought of the girls being confined like caged animals in a root cellar. Fine setup that would be if a fire broke out. It was obviously the least of the dangers the girls faced, but focusing on practical concerns helped keep his mind off the real peril.
It dawned on him then that a fire might be just the thing to get them out. Acquiring them had no doubt cost the angel dearly, and he’d want to protect his investment. With Vasily about, an accidental fire wasn’t far-fetched. How to get him inside the house at the right time would be the tricky part. Perhaps the only way might be an invite to that despicable party, though he hated the idea of cutting things so close. But the more immediate problem was why Vasily was heading for the Alimielov Bridge and what Belphagor was going to do about it.
He brushed sawdust from his hands in a decisive motion. “I have another job for you boys. And it’s very important.”
Anzhela cornered him after the boys had sprinted into action. “You knew. You weren’t at all surprised to hear the girls were in that house.”
Belphagor didn’t deny it. “I only learned of it this morning. That’s why I sent Vasily on his mission, to confirm the report.”
“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go get them.” Her brow was white and flat with determination.
“We can’t just charge into an angel’s villa and demand them.” He rubbed her arm in reassurance, but she was stiff with resistance. “We know where they are now. I’m formulating a plan. As soon as I find out what Vasily’s gotten himself into and get him out of it, we’ll put it in motion. Have faith, Anyushka.” The scowl his words were met with said Anzhela had anything but.
Chetyrnadtsataya
The brilliant glow of a pair of Seraphim flying on either side of the Neba heralded the approach of the queen. But the expected carriage didn’t arrive. Instead, an elaborate enclosed sleigh—gilded, and decorated with the two-headed Seraph crest of the House of Arkhangel’sk—appeared on the ice, drawn by a team of three magnificent white horses. They were the hardy breed from the mountains of Aravoth, built for the ice and snow.
Vasily almost forgot to pay attention to what the sleigh was doing, entranced by the powerful grace of the horses. The one in the center trotted at a steady clip, while the two on the outside ran in a coordinated canter. The jangling of bells on the horses’ bridles had preceded their arrival, reminding Vasily of the bells of Uspensky Cathedral in Vladimir in the world of Man. Belphagor had taken him there to experience his wings for the first time.
The horses were moving swiftly, and the sleigh was almost at the bridge. Vasily had meant to run out and spook the horses with a display of his element, keeping them away, but he’d waited too long. He moved forward with a vague idea of shouting to the driver to stop, though the driver, of course, was the demon he’d come to Elysium with, and trying to stop him would be futile. Before he could open his mouth, however, the sound of ice cracking preceded the violent lurch of the sleigh. Shit. The ice he’d helped to weaken broke as planned.
The demon driving had loosed the traces as the sleigh plunged through the ice, allowing him to leap onto the back of the center horse before he went down with the sleigh, urging the horses on to safety.
Vasily didn’t pause to think. He dove in and pulled at the door but couldn’t open it. The faces of the queen and her companion stared at him in terror. The companion scrambled foolishly toward the other side of the sleigh, as if Vasily were a greater danger than drowning—or freezing to death; whichever came first. But the queen, clinging to the ceiling of the sleigh, kicked at the latch with her feet. She gave it several strong kicks, to no avail. She was half submerged already. The sleigh careened farther into the water, one runner still half on the ice, and the screaming companion’s flailing wasn’t helping.
Queen Sefira continued kicking, fierce determination on her sculpted, angelic face, while Vasily jerked hard on the latch, and the door at last moved on its hinges. Luckily, it opened toward the front of the conveyance, which had hit the water first, allowing it to be pushed down out of the way rather than having to hold it open while he helped the passengers out. Vasily reached in to take the queen’s hand, but the companion’s frightened scrambling dislodged more of the ice, and the sleigh broke free of it, plunging downward. He dove with it, hanging on to the frame of the door, and managed to grab the queen around her prominent middle and pull her free. As he kicked toward the surface, the companion’s horrified face was visible in the rear window of the sinking sleigh.
The queen was listless from the cold as they broke the surface, her clothes a sodden, tangled weight as he tried to push her up onto the ice. She had no strength to help him. Certain he was going to lose her, and becoming sluggish himself, he thought he was imagining things when he heard shouting from the bank. Vasily looked up to see the Lost Boys racing over the ice toward him.
“There’s another angel!” he rasped. “In the sleigh! Tilli, Danila, help her, please!”
The two boys dove into the icy river while the rest took hold of the queen’s arms and slid her from the water onto the solid ice. They had her out in an instant, laying her on her back. The mound of her pregnant belly was starkly outlined by the dark, wet clothes.
“Put your coats down for her,” he gasped, hauling himself over the edge. “The ice is too cold.”
Looking chagrined, the boys scrambled out of their coats, making a bed for her on the ice. Vasily managed to lift her up a bit to let them slide the pile of coats beneath her, keeping two aside to drape over her. She was breathing, but she would still freeze to death if they didn’t get her inside.
As Tilli and Danila reemerged with an un
conscious angel between them and climbed out to lay the limp form on the ice, the blinding glow of Seraphim appeared on the bank.
“Time to go, boys,” Vasily murmured. “Stay on the ice until you’re well away.” He knew the Seraphim wouldn’t come any closer. Avoiding the ice wasn’t just an aversion. With the heat they gave off, they could melt the spot.
Sefira moved weakly, grasping at one of the coats on top of her, pulling as if she wanted it off.
“You have to keep that on, Your Supernal Majesty,” Vasily insisted. “You’ll freeze.”
She shook her head slightly. “Sophia. Cold.” He realized what she wanted and took the coat to lay it over the unconscious angel, though he feared it was too late to help her. As he tucked the remaining coat tightly around the queen, she took his hand. The blue supernal eyes gazed up at him. “Kind demon,” she managed before closing her eyes.
He opened his mouth to reply, but a terrible sound split the air, and he forgot what he was thinking, and even what he was doing. He’d never heard anything so horrible. It was like the sound of a metal post being pounded and dragged over the jagged edge of a metal sheet, but he had the impression it was words.
While his head still throbbed with it, another voice rang out. “Stand down! In the name of the principality of all the Heavens!” Above him on the bridge, an angelic officer on horseback pounded over the stone toward the bank. They all looked alike to him, but he was pretty sure this one was Phaleg. Half a dozen angels followed behind him. The queen was in good hands.
Vasily rose and headed away from the bank, carefully avoiding the weakened ice, and covered his ears against another metallic roar. But in the echo of the horrid sound, another reached him.
“Malchik!”
No word had ever sounded so sweet.