by Masha Dark
She should have moved into one of those deluxe apartment buildings, Dalana sneered mentally. Madam Prophetess is greedy.
She’s a bitch, Vasilisa answered darkly.
Let’s go. Hold on to me and try to be quiet for a while, at least while we’re in the air.
Vasilisa awkwardly clasped Dalana around the neck.
Hold on to me or else you’ll fall, warned Dalana. Like you did in the club, remember?
“Uh-huh,” the transmog mumbled.
Dalana realized too late that her reminder had stirred up a whole whirlwind of negative emotions. She patted the girl encouragingly on her neck.
Are you holding on tight?
Vasilisa linked her fingers, signaling her readiness. Dalana hugged her firmly around the waist.
Be extremely attentive and wary on the windowsill. It’s very narrow. Don’t make any superfluous movements while I cut the glass. Bear in mind, if you lose your footing, I won’t have time to catch you.
“I know all of that,” grumbled Vasilisa. “Press myself against the wall and keep watch on the windows opposite. Though it seems to me that even if a cannon fired, no would wake up, and if someone did wake up, he wouldn’t look outside.”
“And we’re off,” Dalana said in a whisper, and in the next instant they were airborne.
Zemfira awoke because of a strange sound in the kitchen and instantly knew that someone was in her apartment. Shivering from terror, she also knew something else – there would be no salvation. They had come to kill her.
Jumping up from her bed, Zemfira dashed to the bureau that stood by the opposite wall in an attempt to reach the gun in the top drawer. She was too late.
A black shadow darted towards her from the open bedroom door and knocked her from her feet with one powerful blow. Zemfira sprawled on the floor, keening like a dying rabbit.
“If you keep screaming, your death will be all the more agonizing,” whispered the shadow. “Bitch, you are going to die because of your avarice.”
“Please don’t, pl-please,” babbled Zemfira. “I’ll give you everything, all my money and jewelry…everything I have…take everything, just don’t kill me…I beg you…”
Then another shadow appeared in the bedroom – taller and more muscled than the first. She began to speak, but Zemfira did not hear her voice; it was as if the shadow was in some unearthly way conversing with her inside her mind.
Now, you will tell me everything you know about a person by the name of Marisa Sukhostat and CRUSS. Relax and open the stream of your thoughts, transmit them clearly and accurately. Try to stick to the point and I will not lay a finger on you, promised the second shadow.
Vasilisa watched with facile interest as Dalana mesmerized the victim. From the outside it looked fairly odd. Vasilisa had seen the effect Begotten of Old had on humans before. She also had firsthand knowledge of something quite similar. Still, Dalana’s manipulations were strikingly different from those that Mentor had used. He usually put the prey into a trance with his voice; Dalana weaved from side to side as if she was an enormous cobra and she transformed her words into a powerful, mental deluge that she guided directly into the brain of the hypnotized woman. Vasilisa could not hear what was in this flood, but she knew that nothing could make her want to be in the position of this pitiful fortuneteller….What, was she really pitying this beast? Oh no, Vasilisa would not allow herself to feel any pity, for there was no pity that could overwhelm her desire to quickly have done with the hateful stoolie.
“That’s it, you can begin,” said Dalana. “I’ll wait for you in the kitchen. And don’t show too much zeal or she’ll wake up the entire neighborhood.”
Zemfira felt the strange cloud that had filled her head begin to disperse. At the same time she saw that only one shadow remained in the room – the smaller one.
“P-please…take my mo…ney,” said Zemfira with difficulty, hardly able to budge her numbed tongue.
“You know, I am really am a bit hungry,” said the shadow in a sinister voice.
With these words her eyes flashed so brightly that Zemfira’s blood froze in her veins. Somewhere in the back of her mind a nebulous thought took form: the monster with the burning eyes had absolutely no need for her money.
“Yes,” hissed Vasilisa, enjoying the state of catatonia that had embraced the prey and fettered her arms and legs. “You are exceedingly well-fed, and at any other time I would drain you dry with pleasure. But you know what?”
Vasilisa crept extremely close to the woman, who was paralyzed with fear, and sank down onto her heels.
“I will not drink your foul blood.”
And with these words Vasilisa jabbed the tensed fingers of her right hand into her victim’s neck. She fumbled with the cartilage of the larynx for a moment then caught hold of it with all five fingers and in one abrupt and powerful tug she ripped it out of the throat. A torrent of hot blood surged from the wound. Zemfira wheezed once then crumpled to the floor.
Vasilisa straightened up and glanced once more at her victim with loathing. The woman was already dead.
“A dog’s death for a dog,” said Vasilisa hollowly as she turned away.
Reflexively she put her left hand, unstained by blood, into the pocket of her jeans. Knowing full well about the phenomenal neglectfulness of her younger sister, Lucinda had always equipped the pockets of her clothes with clean handkerchiefs. But now there was no handkerchief. In the pocket of these oversized, second-hand pants she found only a piece of paper folded in two. Well, it would do just fine.
Vasilisa wiped off her bloodstained fingers and tossed the paper aside, then suddenly turned round and kicked the lifeless corpse with all her strength.
“Bitch,” she screamed, with a voice that broke from a rising sob. “Take that!”
She kicked the corpse again. The woman rolled over onto her side from the kick.
“That’s for Lucinda, that’s for Nicholaus…”
This time Vasilisa’s foot hit bone.
“That’s for all of us!”
And, unable to control herself, Vasilisa burst into tears.
In the kitchen Dalana could hear everything. She was thinking about stepping in when Vasilisa suddenly bounded into the kitchen.
“Sorry, I went slightly mad in there,” said the transmog.
Her eyes were still shining with tears, but her voice sounded even and sure.
You didn’t touch anything, I hope? Asked Dalana.
Besides the throat of that bitch – nothing, replied Vasilisa. Let’s get out of here.
When they were in the car, Dalana noticed how odd and awkward Vasilisa looked in her clothing. She looked like a curious child who had crawled into her mother’s closet without permission and had dressed herself in the first thing she found.
“You look quite silly, you know,” remarked Dalana.
“And what I am supposed to do about that?” grumbled Vasilisa, and she defiantly turned away towards the window.
The remainder of the drive passed by in gloomy silence. When they returned to the apartment, Vasilisa locked herself in the bathroom with the clear intention of not coming out for several hours.
What’s the matter? Why are you dissatisfied? Dalana asked through the door.
I don’t know what you’re talking about, answered the girl. I did what I wanted. I had my vengeance. And now I simply want to be alone.
It was the first time that Dalana had found herself in such a situation. She was an active individual, a doer, and part of her was deeply indifferent to Vasilisa’s distress. Hadn’t the head of the informant been part of the commission? Well, she got what she wanted, paid for in advance. But another part of Dalana pitied the transmog, who did not seem to know what to do with all this emotional turmoil. That was it, the duality of human nature, that same complicated double sided emotional landscape that begat feelings of conflict and contrariness all on its own. Vasilisa had received what she wished for, but it did not give her any satisfaction. The pain h
ad not gone away once vengeance was accomplished. Quite the contrary, it just made more apparent the cursed, grey emptiness into which her fulfilled wish was reborn. ‘Be careful what you wish for’. They were true words, words to live by – especially in the human world.
In the meanwhile, day had already broken. Dalana planned to visit Soigu’s country estate, while the day had not yet achieved its full strength. She also needed to replace her car.
I’m going out, said Dalana. I’ll be gone for several hours.
To her astonishment, Vasilisa remained quiet, but the sleepy kitten came in from the living room. Flicking its tail, it stretched and yawned sweetly.
It seems you have a visitor, Dalana addressed the girl again. Be sure not to eat it without me.
“She’s my friend,” Vasilisa’s voice traveled through the door. “Please don’t joke like that anymore.”
Dalana grinned. It seemed that the girl’s customary refractoriness had returned to her. That meant that everything was as it should be.
The sun had already risen when Dalana, in a dirty Volvo, drove up to the entrance check point of the community that Alexander Soigu used as his refuge.
“State your business,” said the guard sleepily as he leaned out of his booth.
Dalana was disguised as a servant or housekeeper, a tutor or a nanny – that fit the dirty, unimpressive ‘junkyard on wheels’ she drove. The guard swept his eyes over the scruffy, plain looking girl sitting behind the wheel of the tin can and decided that he didn’t have to be polite.
“I asked you, what do you want?” the man snapped, discarding the last remainders of courtesy.
Raise the barrier, commanded Dalana. And go change your shirt; people can smell you a kilometer away.
The guard shoved his muscular torso back into the booth like a sleepwalker. After a moment the barrier rose and Dalana’s Volvo entered the grounds of the community unimpeded. Humans of inferior intelligence were especially susceptible to suggestion – their minds resembled melted wax. The sweaty guard was even more primitive than Marisa Sukhostat’s partner – the one who had been taken by the amoeba creature.
Dalana’s car slowly drove past the blank wall that encircled Soigu’s mansion. Dalana did not doubt for a second that it was his home. She drew all the conclusions she needed to in just a few seconds, and then she drove on without stopping. A few houses later Dalana turned the car around and sped out of the community. The simple-minded meathead of a guard hadn’t even managed to lower the barrier.
Dalana drove to the highway and pushed the simple car to its maximum speed. New particulars had emerged over the past twenty four hours in relation to both her objectives. First, Dalana had finally found out all she needed to know about these ‘ghostbusters’ from the Coalition against supernatural forces. In particular, she had found out more about one of their best employees, Special Agent Marisa Sukhostat. The girl was reputed to be a dedicated vampire hunter who lived for her work. She had no family, nor any interests except those that revolved around CRUSS. The fortuneteller had also supplied her with a means of communication with Marisa that Dalana planned to use later. As for Soigu – it was a wretched affair. The few seconds she had spent coasting past his lair had been enough to sense the thing that lurked there. The creature guarding Soigu’s residence was born of the Underworld. A being that was in cahoots with such beasts was no less dangerous than those beasts. Dalana could well imagine what the consequences might be should she encounter the Sentinel that had taken to roaming the grounds of Soigu’s mansion. As a primitive creature, this native of the Underworld could not sense Dalana as she drove past the target’s house, but Dalana knew it would not go well with her if she entered the creature’s kill zone. Evidently, the Sentinel and Soigu had formed an alliance. It was difficult to imagine worse news.
Lost in these thoughts, Dalana realized it was a quarter to ten. Rather early for shopping. It would make sense to stop home and check if everything there was in order.
Luckily this time everything was relatively calm. Vasilisa was sitting in a chair with her chin cupped in her hands, watching television– a feature length animated masterpiece by Haio Miyazaki, Spirited Away.
“Tell me something,” said Vasilisa, not taking her eyes from the screen. “This director…how does he know such things? Spirits, Divinities, the other world…. Is he also Begotten of Old?”
“He’s a practitioner of Shinto,” said Dalana.
She walked across the room and settled herself in the neighboring chair.
“Does that mean that Shintoists know more than Christians?” asked Vasilisa.
“That’s not what I said,” Dalana hurried to object. “But if you are even slightly familiar with Shinto, you should know that their worldview encompasses far more answers to these questions than any other. Over the course of a thousand years, Shintoists came to believe that gods and spirits resided everywhere: in the rivers, in every tree, in every house and even in the kitchen. And that’s true, though in the modern world many humans live by the principle ‘I have to see it to believe it’, and sometimes also by ‘Even if I see it, I won’t believe it’. Humankind searches all things for the rational, diligently forcing out the intuitive and the unconscious. As for the director of this film, he could simply be a practitioner of Shinto. Or a genius. Or a Begotten of Old. It’s possible he’s a half-blood…there are many alternatives.”
“A Shintoist…a genius…a half-blood,” Vasilisa bit her lip pensively. “I don’t see the connection.”
“And you shouldn’t see.” Dalana shrugged her shoulders. “You are nothing more than a human that has lived on this earth a bit longer than usual.”
“And just how old are you?” asked the transmog sullenly.
“Oh,” Dalana laughed, shaking her hair. “Believe me, child, many, many years. So many that it is sometimes frightening.”
Vasilisa was staring at Dalana with a sort of childlike curiosity.
“The thaw has come,” Vasilisa said.
And then a thought arose in her mind, as always hurrying in advance of the words: You finally showed me your fangs.
“And what was your impression?” asked Dalana, grinning.
“Very nice,” said Vasilisa briefly. “After all this time they’re still like new. You could sell toothbrushes.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think I’d enjoy that.”
“I don’t doubt it,” chuckled the transmog. “By the way, you promised to tell me about your world. Or have I still not merited the right to hear the mystery that lies behind the seven seals?”
“What are you interested in particularly?”
“Well, for example, I’d like to know what kinds of wondrous creatures populate your world. And also where does this world exist? Do you step beyond the mirror, and you’re there? Or is it some kind of mysterious Middle-Earth that’s not on any maps?”
“Slow down, don’t jump about so!” Dalana said, frowning. “One at a time. Let’s begin with the fact that my world is not on any map. In a broad manner, the issue has nothing to do with geography.”
“Ha, I knew it!” Vasilisa clapped her hands together, delighted at her own acumen. “To be honest with you, I once heard a story about your world. At that time I could make very little of it. I hope that now I’ll understand much more.”
“If you keep interrupting me, I won’t tell you anything,” threatened Dalana.
“Okay, okay, I’ll be quiet,” said the transmog quickly. “Wait, can’t you show me? I mean, can’t you just penetrate my mind with your telepathy…”
“I could, but I won’t. I’m afraid to pump too much information into your brain,” explained Dalana. “You couldn’t handle it – it would probably make you lose your mind.”
“Damn, that’s a pity!” exclaimed Vasilisa. “Well, we’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned way. I’ll try not to interrupt.”
At that moment the kitten paraded into the room. Casting a glance full of distrust at Dalana, she trotted to
wards the chair in which the girl was sitting. Without hesitating for a moment, she jumped up onto her lap, curled up into a ball and, closing her eyes, began purring in satisfaction.
Meanwhile, Vasilisa had turned off the television.
“The film, of course, is really great, but sad,” she commented. “But then, I don’t want to get sidetracked. I’m paying attention – tell me, please.”
The kitten was breathing evenly on Vasilisa’s lap.
“Returning to the organization of my world,” said Dalana. “Actually, it is not quite correct to apportion the expanses into the World of Humans and the World of the Begotten of Old. Such a division is conventional, but it does not mirror the reality. In reality, the world is divided into the Upper, Middle and Lower Worlds. There is also the Underworld, but about that a bit later. So, all these beyond the looking-glass worlds and Middle-Earths…”
“Sea-Worlds too…” injected Vasilisa.
“…are of course fabrications,” continued Dalana, as if she had not been interrupted. “Of all the concepts that humans have imagined over the last thousand years, the theory of dimensions is the closest to the truth. Humans, as well as altered humans, such as you, live in the Middle World and see only that which they see. Access to the other dimensions, that is, to the Upper and Lower worlds, is shut to you. I am in essence also a creature of the Middle World, but as a direct descendent of a Tengri, I am welcomed by the Upper as well as the Lower World. When I say welcomed, I mean that I can engage with creatures from these Worlds. But I cannot live there. To put it in bureaucratic terms – I don’t have clearance. The Edzeni are also creatures of the Middle World. You saw one of them that night in the forest. The Edzeni are children of the Khans and Noyans, grandchildren of the Tengri, and they, as opposed to me, can live in the Upper and Lower Worlds. They prefer the Upper, though.”
“That’s it, now my head is spinning,” said Vasilisa querulously.
“I warned you,” replied Dalana, smirking.
“My God, Upper, Middle, Lower…it’s crazy,” Vasilisa was literally clutching at her head. “And clearance – what are you talking about? Three Worlds…yes, he told me something about those…. The Edzeni, who are they really? And these Khans? And the – what were they called? Ten…