The Fallen Queen

by Jane Kindred

  From the dacha’s kitchen, Love would continue scouring the world

  for allies, just a text message away on the phones she’d supplied them.

  He stared in surprise when Dmitri himself showed up at the

  restaurant. Vasily hadn’t known whom they were meeting, and he

  realized this had been the Exiles’ failsafe. If someone else had appeared in Vasily’s place, Dmitri and his companion would have turned around

  and walked out with no one the wiser. The Nephil who accompanied

  him was a tall woman of West African descent who introduced herself

  as Vashti and spoke with a British accent. Since Knud was fluent in the angelic tongue, they were able to speak freely once they’d scanned the room and ensured there was no hidden radiance.

  “Thank you for coming,” said Vasily. “This is Knud of the

  Copenhagen Roma.”

  “We know what he is,” said Vashti, as if she found his presence

  distasteful.

  Vasily ignored her. “I understood the Grigori chieftain was

  meeting us.”

  “That’s right.” Dmitri smiled.

  “You’re the chieftain?” Belphagor had always said Dmitri had

  “connections,” though he’d been vague about their nature, but Vasily

  had expected the leader of such an arcane and venerable group to be

  somehow more impressive. Dmitri and his partner Lev were not much

  older than himself. They’d lived humbly when Vasily had known them,

  and there’d been no indication Dmitri wielded any kind of power or

  authority.

  Dmitri shrugged. “It’s not information we generally make known

  unless it needs to be.”

  “We should get down to business,” said Vashti.

  Despite the Nephil’s impatience, Dmitri paused to give the

  sommelier an order for two bottles of pinot noir. He turned to Vasily

  with a pleasant but impersonal smile. “So what can I help you with?”

  Vasily rubbed his palms against his thighs. Now that he knew

  who Dmitri was, he felt like a poor relation begging money. “As I

  mentioned, Belphagor has gotten himself into a bit of trouble. He’s—

  temporarily—in the queen’s employ in Elysium.” He braced himself

  for Dmitri’s surprise and disapproval.

  THE FALLEN QUEEN 251

  “Yes, we’re aware of that. What exactly would you like us to do

  about it?”

  Vasily was momentarily thrown by the calm response. “Nothing.

  I mean, you don’t need to do anything. I just need to know how to get

  into Heaven.”

  The sommelier arrived with the wine.

  Dmitri sampled, gave a nod of approval, and waited until the man

  had poured the wine and left before continuing. “What do you expect

  to do once you get to Heaven?”

  “Get Belphagor out,” said Vasily. “I’m sure I can enlist a few

  demons in Elysium to help.”

  Vashti laughed. Vasily pushed up his glasses, fuming behind them,

  but she was clearly unimpressed.

  Dmitri leaned back in his chair. “Vasily, I’m not sure you

  understand what you’re asking.”

  “Then why don’t you enlighten me? Belphagor asked for sanctuary

  last year and you denied him. I suppose you had your reasons, but if

  you’d helped him then, he wouldn’t have gotten into this mess. All I’m asking for is a key to get into Heaven.”

  “I’m sure Belphagor has told you that we don’t get involved in

  celestial affairs.”

  “I’m not asking you to get involved!” Vasily nearly rose from his

  chair in frustration, but Dmitri held up his hand.

  “Hear me out. There’s been troubling news lately that makes

  this an unusual situation. Our sources indicate that Belphagor is

  caught in the middle of two opposing forces. The queen is intent on

  remaking Heaven and reasserting its authority below. A terrestrial

  sphere overrun by Malakim and Seraphim is not a pleasant prospect.

  In the celestial sphere, she’s been systematically isolating the demonic communities from one another. We hear there are camps throughout

  Heaven where she’s begun to intern the demons.”

  Vasily frowned. “And the other force?”

  “The Fallen themselves. There’s a rebellion afoot, and it’s been

  brewing since long before Aeval came to power.”

  Vasily shook his head. “Demons have been trying to foment a

  rebellion as long as I’ve been alive. I’ve spent a fair amount of time

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  among the Liberationists. All they do is talk.”

  “Well, they’re talking revolution now,” said Dmitri. “Normally,

  that would be no concern of ours. Heaven wanted nothing to do

  with us, including the Fallen who chose to live there. But with Aeval

  threatening the terrestrial sphere, we have to take the rumors on

  both sides very seriously. We take no official position on a celestial revolution. However, as the highest terrestrial authority among the

  Fallen, I’m prepared to mount a full resistance to any attempt by

  Heaven to assert its rule here.

  “The difficulty your dilemma presents is that Belphagor is in the

  thick of things, and the celestial Fallen are reluctant to trust him. He’s considered an opportunist and not a loyalist. Apparently, he has a

  position of privilege in the palace, though he’s been in contact with a few Fallen servants involved in the movement.”

  “I know it doesn’t look good, but Belphagor would never

  participate in or profit from the oppression of his own kind,” Vasily

  insisted. “He’s loyal to a fault.”

  “That’s why we’re here,” Dmitri agreed. “I’ve vouched for you

  both. And there are others who’ve had past associations with him in

  the zona who will always have his back. We believe he’s being held against his will.”

  “They didn’t have his back during his last term in Kresty,” said

  Knud, quiet until now.

  Dmitri looked at him for the first time. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Last fall, in Kresty. When did they have his back?”

  “We didn’t come here to be lectured by a gypsy.” Vashti pushed

  back her chair. Her nephilic radiance flared, a gold arcing across her ebony skin.

  “No, no.” Dmitri put out his hand toward her. “We agreed to meet

  with them both. If Knud has something to say, let’s hear it.”

  “I’m sorry.” Knud gave Vasily an apologetic look. “This has been

  bothering me for a while. I suppose because I’m responsible for

  getting Belphagor inside. But he was on his own in there. I thought,

  and I believe he thought, he’d have his family on the inside to keep

  the situation from getting too bad.” Knud picked up his glass of

  water and avoided Vasily’s gaze. “Sometime between completing my

  THE FALLEN QUEEN 253

  negotiations with the Seraphim and Belphagor’s release, someone

  got to him. It looked like he’d been used as a punching bag. I—” He

  banged down his glass. “It’s those fucking tattoos.” His face flushed

  with anger. “How did he get branded in the first place if his family

  had his back? He has king-of-thieves tattoos up one side and sukas down the other. I’m surprised he wasn’t beaten to death the moment

  he walked into Kresty.”

  Dmitri nodded thoughtfully. “Belphagor has done time over a

&nbs
p; number of different… eras. Some of his tattoos are quite old. Stalinist, in fact.”

  Knud snorted. “What do you mean, Stalinist? He can’t be more

  than thirty-five.”

  “You forget how the celestials age. The air, I’m told, is purer in

  Heaven.”

  Vasily was stunned. He’d known Belphagor was older, but he’d

  thought only by a matter of years, not decades. “You’re telling me Bel was in the gulags?”

  “Obviously, long before I knew him. As I understand it, he was

  picked up for soliciting. Russia has never been a friendly place for our kind, but it was particularly bad then.”

  By “our kind,” Vasily knew Dmitri didn’t mean Fallen.

  “Belphagor fought his way to respect among the vory v zakone

  eventually, but in the beginning, I’m sure it must have been… ” Dmitri paused as if the right word eluded him, and then said, “Hell.”

  Belphagor had always been evasive about his tattoos. Vasily

  had assumed Belphagor didn’t want to be reminded of his past

  relationships. Only the ornate cross on his chest did he seem truly

  proud to show off, and even that he wouldn’t explain. He always kept

  his back turned away from Vasily when he undressed—frustrating for

  a number of reasons.

  “At any rate,” Dmitri said with a sigh, “you’re right, Knud. His

  family let him down. That’s why we’re prepared to gather whatever

  forces are needed.” His attention shifted to Vasily. “How many do you

  think you’ll need?”

  Vasily nearly choked on his wine. “How many do you have?”

  The Grigori chuckled. “I can’t answer that. But I assure you we

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  can meet any requirement you have.”

  “A hundred, then.”

  “Let’s make it two.”

  Vasily stared, dumbfounded. Dmitri raised his wine goblet, clinked

  their glasses together, and drank to the agreement.

  “Before you get too excited about all this,” Vashti interrupted,

  “there’s the other matter.”

  Vasily swallowed his mouthful of wine. “What other matter?”

  “We understand you aren’t just interested in breaking Belphagor

  out of Heaven.” She gave him a stern look. “That there’s a honeydripper involved.” It was derogatory slang for an angel, implying they claimed to drip honey from their genitals.

  Vasily flashed his own warning at her along his skin. “There is a

  former noble. Her family was executed, and she’s been imprisoned.”

  “Former noble or former supernal?” Vashti frowned. “I don’t see

  how the squabbles of the ruling house are in any way our problem.

  They can kill each other for all the Nephilim care.”

  “She’s carrying my child,” Vasily hissed, his eyes hot behind his

  spectacles.

  “Oh, that’s brilliant. And disgusting.”

  “And what do you call angels fornicating with humans?”

  She threw down her napkin and stood. “This meeting is over.”

  “Vashti, sit down.” Dmitri set his hand on her arm, and she shook

  him off. “Please.”

  Vashti stood a moment longer and then sat with resentment, her

  pupils encircled in an angry gold ring. The Nephilim had relied on the Grigori for protection over the course of the millennia, and ultimately had to answer to them to maintain that bond. Nephilim who left the

  insular clan and blended with the fully human population—some

  claimed the Roma to be descendants of such an exodus—were cut off

  from that kinship forever.

  Dmitri set down his glass. “You must admit, Vasily, your situation

  is somewhat different from our ancient history. You’re talking about

  the velikaya knyazhna, aren’t you? The grand duchess of the House of Arkhangel’sk.”

  Vasily folded his arms. “She’s under Belphagor’s protection.”

  THE FALLEN QUEEN 255

  “Pity that didn’t include a chastity belt,” said Vashti.

  “Enough.” Dmitri’s voice boomed across the restaurant and drew

  attention from the other patrons, and Vashti looked abashed. “I denied Belphagor’s request for sanctuary last year because troubling rumors

  about the velikaya knyazhna were already circulating. We look out for the Fallen, not the Host.” When Vasily started to protest, Dmitri

  added, “That includes the offspring of the Fallen.”

  The Nephil gave a harsh laugh. “By all means. Bring the incubator

  along. Incidentally, when is she due?”

  Vasily glared and shrugged, having no idea about such matters.

  Knud answered for him. “By my calculation? Now.”

  §

  Belphagor woke to the sound of his own moaning. Disoriented,

  he was uncertain where he’d gone to sleep until he recognized the

  House of Correction’s cold stone floor beneath his cheek. The beating

  from the principality returned to him in a blaze of pain. It had been

  expertly delivered. Under different circumstances, he might have been

  impressed.

  His mouth was dry, and there looked to be a cup of water near the

  grate in the door. Glancing up produced such a rippling wave of agony

  that he felt it might be better to die of thirst.

  What an idiot he was. He’d been so close to securing Anazakia’s

  freedom before her escape attempt and that damned wingcasting

  game. He should have gotten word to her somehow. There were

  sympathetic servants in the palace who were no friend to Kae or

  Aeval and didn’t buy the story he’d supplied the queen. They’d

  been prepared to smuggle Anazakia out if he could guarantee them

  sanctuary in the world of Man. He’d only been awaiting word from the

  underground—word he now knew would never have come. He had no

  way of knowing whether any of his messages had made it through. He

  could only hope the poor stable boy hadn’t given up the names of the

  other servants Belphagor had recruited.

  Belphagor decided to push through the pain for that cup of water

  after all. His jailers hadn’t bothered to shackle him, thank Heaven for small mercies. He rose onto his knees with a shout of agony and made his way by careful, excruciating increments to the cup, only to find it empty.

  256 JANE KINDRED

  Dvadtsat Pyatoe: Confinement

  from the memoirs of the Grand Duchess Anazakia

  Helisonovna of the House of Arkhangel’sk

  The queen sent the chambermaid I’d assaulted to attend me after

  my ill-fated attempt to escape. Whether it was punishment for me or

  for Inga, I wasn’t sure. My left wrist was shackled to the frame of the camp bed toward the wall, leaving my right hand free during the day.

  Inga’s duty was to shackle this hand at night to the frame over my

  head, which seemed to frighten her to no end, though I didn’t resist.

  I apologized again for harming her, but she kept her head down and

  said nothing.

  Aeval’s threat to bring a doctor to cut me open and take the baby

  from me had so far not materialized, but whenever the door opened, I

  braced myself for a fight. Perhaps this accounted for Inga’s jumpiness.

  Shortly, however, it became a moot point.

  A dull pain, coming at regular intervals, awakened me in the

  night. I had no experience with birth, but I knew instinctively what

  this discomfort meant. I also remembered my mother had travailed


  for many hours with Azel, and so I waited for morning when Inga

  would come.

  The pain had intensified by the time Inga arrived, and my

  appearance seemed to frighten her. She hesitated with the key to

  my shackle and then jumped back when I twisted against the latest

  contraction.

  “Please,” I said when it passed. “Unlock my wrist. I need the midwife.”

  THE FALLEN QUEEN 257

  Inga shook her head. I tried to sit up, but the position of my

  shackles made this difficult. When I pulled myself upward, fluid rushed out between my legs. This I knew nothing at all about, and I screamed.

  “Please. Help me, Inga.”

  As I grew more frantic, she seemed calmer. “It’s your water’s

  broke, miss. The baby’s coming.”

  “Broke?” I cried, seized by more intense cramping.

  “It’s supposed to break. How else can the baby get out?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, gripped with panic. “I don’t know how it

  gets out!”

  “Well, you’ll soon find out, miss.” She went out and locked the

  door. I screamed after her, to no avail. I heard her talking in low tones with the Ophanim in the hallway before she went away, perhaps to get

  the midwife, but when an hour passed with no help coming, I shook

  with fear. The pain was coming swiftly now, and I could barely change

  position in the bed to try to accommodate it. My screaming eventually

  brought someone to the door.

  “What a fuss you’re making.” Aeval entered, fresh and pristine in

  her usual snowy colors, while I was soaked with sweat and the pool of

  fluid.

  “I need the midwife,” I pleaded.

  “Women delivered babies for thousands of years in the world

  of Man without any assistance,” said Aeval. “Of course, half of those

  probably died in the process.”

  I moaned against another pain, and she smiled. “It sounds as

  though it will be soon now. You’ll forgive me if I don’t stay. I don’t care for messes.” She turned to go, and I jerked against my shackles,

  desperate even for her company.

  “Please! At least unchain me. I can’t give birth like this.”

  “Dear cousin. If only you had demonstrated trustworthiness

  before. You have only yourself to blame.”

  I screamed after her, this time with obscenities, and heard her

  laughing before she disappeared down the corridor. I shut my eyes

  against another gripping pain. When it finally subsided and I opened