City of Storms

Home > Other > City of Storms > Page 5
City of Storms Page 5

by Kat Ross

* * *

  “Bishop Karolo holds his other Mark,” Spassov announced. “She’s out of the city at a conference in Kvengard, but she’ll be livid when they tell her.”

  Alexei found his partner smoking in Dr. Massot’s office. Stacks of patient files sat on the desk, next to a green-shaded lamp and a telephone. The file drawers were all pulled open, but it would take hours to read through Massot’s case notes and Alexei doubted they’d find anything. The doctor was too careful.

  “Bishop Karolo leads the Conservatives, doesn’t she?” Alexei said.

  Spassov nodded glumly. “Saints know what they’ll do with this. Heads will roll, brother. Let’s try to keep ours intact.”

  “What else did Kireyev say?”

  He was their boss.

  “I gave him Malach’s name. He’ll put men on it.”

  Alexei scanned one of the files. The name had been redacted. The binder was identified only as Patient 63. “Persistent delusions of grandeur. . . exhibits generalized rage at authority figures . . . lack of self-control in the context of impulsive urges. . .”

  Massot might have been describing himself.

  “If this mage sets off any Wards, the brothers will kill him on sight,” Spassov said.

  Alexei expected as much, but the news did not make him happy.

  “Bold bastard to come inside the city.” Spassov stared out the window at the rain-soaked grounds. “You think he’s still here?”

  Nightmarks were assumed to be rare, although without regularly strip-searching every adult citizen, which would be a clear violation of their civil rights, no one knew exactly how rare. This was for two reasons, the chief one being that most of the mages were dead. The second reason was that Nightmarks didn’t seem to spontaneously invert like regular Marks. They were more stable, which made sense. Nightmarks unchained the psychic beast, while Marks tamed it.

  But a mage could invert any Mark with a single touch, making it likely that Malach had been inside Massot’s house tonight.

  “Not unless he’s stupid,” Alexei said. “And I don’t think he is.”

  Spassov exhaled a stream of smoke. “Mages know all about Markhounds. He knew they’d start to howl the instant he made his victim an Invertido. Maybe he wanted Massot to be found quickly.”

  “So he flipped him as punishment for some misstep,” Alexei said, far more casually than he felt. “What could be worse than to be locked up at the Institute he used to run?”

  “Malach must have been one of the party guests. Kireyev’s boys will round them up. At least we’ll get a description.”

  “And here I thought you’d missed that about the party.”

  Spassov laughed. “I miss nothing, Alyosha.” His face grew wistful. “The doctor had a nice life. What did he throw it all away for?”

  Alexei said nothing. He’d sworn to keep what Jeyna said to himself, but the man she’d described was nothing like the cheerful, efficient bureaucrat Alexei had met on his many visits to the Institute. Massot was temperamental at best, dictatorial at worst. And he’d been spending a great deal of time alone with some of his patients. He said it was an experimental new therapeutic technique, but Nurse Jeyna had seen fading bruises on some of the women.

  Self-injury wasn’t uncommon. It hadn’t been enough to report Massot, especially when the women denied that he’d done anything. Jeyna didn’t believe them. Not when closer examination revealed needle tracks, as well. She was anguished over it now.

  “If I’d known about the Nightmark, I never would have approved the sedative,” Spassov said. “We need to question him. How long will he be under?”

  “The nurse said a few more hours.” Alexei paused. “I think we should focus on finding the woman. She must have seen something.”

  “Kireyev is working on it.”

  “And time’s wasting,” Alexei snapped, more harshly than he intended.

  Spassov took it in stride. “Look, he can’t get past the city walls now. They’ve tripled the watch. It’s impossible. So either he’s already gone back to the Void, or he’s here. If he’s here, he’s not leaving again.” He pushed a stack of files across the desk. “Make yourself useful.”

  Alexei sighed and pulled up a chair. Framed photographs hung on the wall behind the desk. Massot shaking hands with Bishop Maria Karolo. A group photo of the staff assembled on the front lawn. Massot speaking on a dais, his hands animated. A formal shot of the doctor appearing much younger, clad in the black gown of the Lyceum. The obligatory portrait of the Pontifex, found in cafés and drinking establishments across the city. And an autographed photo of Cardinal Dmitry Falke. Alexei leaned forward, trying to decipher the scrawled note at the bottom.

  Medicus est timendum magis quam morbo. –C.

  The doctor could be worse than the disease.

  Meant in jest, obviously, but a strange omen nonetheless.

  He started to plow through the case files, looking for anything unusual. It was a sad catalogue of pathological deviance, the magnetic poles between ego and id suddenly swapping places. There was no cure, only heavy sedation until the end, which usually came within months. The madness took a subtly different course in each person, but there were certain constants.

  Narcissism. Paranoia. Zero tolerance for delayed gratification. Lack of remorse. Severely impaired empathy.

  Alexei’s chin drooped. Rain beat a gentle tempo against the glass. He blinked, trying to focus, but the letters swam away . . . .

  “Fra Spassov?”

  His head jerked up as the young chestnut-haired orderly entered. He sounded out of breath, like he’d been running. Alexei jumped to his feet, the file spilling to the floor.

  “What is it?” he demanded. “Is Massot awake?”

  “No, Fra Bryce. But I went through his clothes before sending them to the laundry. I found this in his pocket.” The attendant handed him a small card.

  Alexei studied it, adrenaline pumping. It was heavy stock, glossy black with constellations of gilded stars in the corners. The gold lettering was ornate. Love, Fate, Destiny. What does the ley hold for YOU?

  “Well?” Spassov demanded.

  “Her name is Natalya Anderle. Number 44 Malaya Sadovaya Ulitsa.”

  “Malaya Sadovaya,” Spassov mused. “Isn’t that near Kebab House? I used to go there all the time. They have an all-you-can-eat lunch buffet.”

  Alexei jingled the car keys. “Fancy some curry?”

  Chapter Seven

  Kasia saw them arrive. She was sitting in the window seat filing a chipped nail and watching the street with half an eye. The rain hadn’t let up and even the diehard revelers had gone home. Traffic was nonexistent so the slow-moving headlights caught her attention.

  She’d wondered who would come first—the cardinal’s bagman or the Interfectorem—but either way, she didn’t really expect them to turn up at three o’clock in the fogging morning.

  She leaned out over the fire escape, hoping the long black automobile would keep going. But it stopped in front of the curry shop, parking illegally at the curb. The doors opened and two priests got out. From six stories up, in the rainy darkness, they all looked the same, but she knew.

  “Nashka!” she hissed. “They’re here.”

  Natalya muttered something. She was sleeping on the couch.

  “Wake up!”

  Kasia shoved the stack of fashion glossies under the couch with one foot. She threw her boots into the closet and was searching for a pair of gloves when the buzzer rang. Kasia waited until it rang again, two sharp peals. She hit the intercom with an unsteady hand. “Yes?”

  “Curia,” a male voice said.

  “I didn’t order any curry,” she said.

  The buzzer sounded for a third time. Natalya sat up, blinking.

  What do we do? Kasia mouthed.

  “Let them in.”

  Kasia made a face.

  “You have to!”

  With a sinking heart, she pressed the button.

  The priests had six fli
ghts to climb. For the first time, she was glad the building didn’t have an elevator.

  “Lipstick?” she muttered. “No, they’d expect me to be sleeping. Only guilty people stay up watching the street.”

  “Here.” Natalya pressed a pair of long lace-trimmed gloves into her hands.

  “Why are they here in the middle of the night? That can’t be good.”

  “Just stick to the story. I was hired to do readings at the party, but I was sick so you went instead. Massot attacked you. You were terrified so you ran for your life at the first chance. You weren’t thinking straight. In fact, you planned to telephone the Curia in the morning. But of course you’ll give them your full cooperation.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll confirm every word. They’ll be gone before you know it.”

  Natalya sounded so confident. But then, she had nothing to hide, did she?

  “And if they ask about the reading?”

  “Don’t muddy the waters. Say it was nothing unusual.”

  Kasia knotted her robe and pulled the gloves on just as a knock sounded.

  “Look sleepy,” Natalya whispered.

  Kasia lowered her lids to half-mast. Gave her hair a quick muss and trudged to the door. She left the chain on, opening it a crack. The priests stood in the hall, dripping. The one she remembered from the study wasn’t breathing hard at all, but his partner looked on the verge of fainting.

  “May I see some identification?” she asked politely.

  The younger one hooked a finger into his cassock and turned his head so she could see the Raven Mark. The other, older and even bigger with a neck like a bull, just stared at her coldly. “Open the door, Domina Anderle,” he said.

  “Certainly, Father. One can’t be too careful.” Kasia closed the door, unhooked the chain, and opened it again. “I’m sorry, I was sleeping.”

  “You don’t have to apologize.” That was the younger one. She remembered the gentle way he’d spoken to Massot. He was using the same voice on her now. It would be easy to let her guard down, but she couldn’t afford any more mistakes.

  She moved back to allow them inside. The small space felt even smaller.

  “And I’m not Domina Anderle.” Kasia looked at her friend, who sat with her feet curled underneath her on the couch. “She is.”

  Natalya gracefully unfolded herself and stood. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”

  “No, thank you. My name is Fra Bryce. This is Fra Spassov.”

  “And Fra Spassov is confused,” the huge one said. “Which one of you was at the home of Ferran Massot earlier?”

  “That would be me,” Kasia said. “Massot went mad and trapped me in the bathroom. I was terrified so I ran for my life at the first chance.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Fathers, I wasn’t thinking straight. In fact, I planned to telephone the Curia first thing in the morning.” She lowered her lashes, voice catching. “But of course I’ll give you my full cooperation now.”

  The priests exchanged a look. “And your name, Domina?” Spassov asked.

  She dried her face with a sleeve. “Kasia Novak.”

  Bryce jotted this down in a notebook.

  “It was supposed to be me,” Natalya said. “I feel terrible, knowing what almost happened.” She cast a tender look at her friend. “Poor Kasia. We’re just grateful you arrived when you did.”

  “Are you all right?” Fra Bryce looked at Kasia.

  Her first impression had been accurate. He looked tired. But also perceptive, which did not bode well.

  “I’m fine. Just, you know . . . .” She heaved a watery sigh. “Shaken up.”

  “We need to ask you some questions about what happened,” Bryce said.

  “Right, of course you do. I’m so sorry I ran off. I wasn’t—”

  “Thinking straight,” Spassov finished dryly. “You already told us.”

  Bryce shot his partner a quelling look. “Who else was there?

  Kasia met his direct gaze. Nothing to hide here, Fra Bryce. “Well, the caterers. They left right after supper.”

  “What time was that?”

  “I’d say about eight or nine.”

  “What was the name of the catering company?”

  “I’m sorry, I have no idea.” She sat next to Natalya, one foot tapping a rhythm on the carpet.

  “How many people were there, excluding you and Massot?”

  “Only three. It was a small affair.”

  “Names?”

  Kasia recited the list. Bryce wrote them down. “And you were invited by Dr. Massot?” He posed this question to Natalya.

  “Not exactly.” She crossed her legs, giving them a flash of smooth brown ankle. “Won’t you sit down?”

  “No, thank you,” Spassov said. “What does not exactly mean, Domina Anderle?”

  “It means that I wasn’t a guest. I was hired to be there.” She gave her answer to Bryce, who either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He was still looking at Kasia.

  “In what capacity?” Spassov asked.

  “I’m a cartomancer. So is Domina Novak. Surely, you’ve heard of it.”

  “No.”

  “Well, it’s all the rage. We use oracle cards to tell fortunes. I make the decks, but Kasia does most of the readings. She’s better at that part.”

  Bryce took a pack of cards from his pocket. “These?”

  The sight of her beloved cards in the priest’s hand . . . well, it was like watching an escaped monkey root through her underwear drawer. They’d be contaminated with his aura now. She’d have to sage the whole house and each individual card.

  Kasia shot to her feet. “May I have them back? They’re my best deck.”

  “No,” Spassov interrupted. “Tell us exactly what happened. Every detail.”

  Kasia scowled and earned a sharp elbow from Natalya. “I’ll make you another deck, Kiska,” she said soothingly. “Go ahead and tell them.”

  So Kasia did, leaving out the bizarre things Massot had said and of course, the brass cylinders she had stolen from his desk.

  “Then Fra Bryce came and I was afraid that if Massot overpowered him, he’d come back for me. So I ran.”

  “How did you leave?”

  “Through the front door. I—” Kasia fell silent. Oh, fog it!

  “There was a Markhound at the gate,” Fra Bryce said softly. “How did you pass it?”

  “I climbed over the fence, down by the end of the flowerbeds.”

  “In spiked heels?”

  He was perceptive. Kasia eyed him with a spark of interest. He’d only seen her for an instant, yet he’d noticed what she was wearing down to her shoes. Of course, she had perfect recall of the encounter, too. Hyperthymesia, the doctors called it. The condition was similar to eidetic memory, except hers applied to events rather than static images.

  “I’m quite athletic,” she said. “Just ask Domina Anderle.”

  “Oh, she is,” Natalya added wickedly. “She does everything in heels.”

  Bryce jotted something in his notebook. His face was impossible to read.

  “Let’s back up for a moment,” Spassov rumbled. “We know Massot’s Mark inverted at exactly 11:17 p.m.”

  Kasia nodded, unsure what they were after.

  “Were the guests still there?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t keeping track of the time.”

  “Approximately.”

  She thought back, replaying the evening moment by moment. They’d stood in the hall, watching Massot’s guests get into their chauffered cars. Then she and the doctor had gone upstairs. He’d asked for a reading and Kasia had hesitated because it was getting late. Also because she didn’t like him and wanted to get out of there.

  “I did look at the clock,” she said. “The one on the mantel in his study. It was just after eleven when we sat down to do his reading.”

  “And you were alone at that point?”

  “Yes.”

  They stared at her impassively. No
one leapt up and shouted aha! But the tension in the room ramped up a notch and Kasia felt a glimmer of unease. I just boxed myself in. But to what?

  Bryce lowered his notepad. “You’re doing very well, Domina Novak. Now, in the course of the next quarter of an hour, did Dr. Massot leave you at all? Did anyone else come to the house? Maybe just for a minute or two?”

  The quiet urgency in his voice worried her. She didn’t understand what he was getting at, but she knew she needed to lie.

  “Now that you mention it, Dr. Massot excused himself. I’m not sure where he went. It wasn’t long. But when he came back he was different.”

  “That’s when he attacked you?”

  “Yes,” she said firmly.

  “But you didn’t see anyone else?” Spassov prompted. “Did you hear voices?”

  Keep it simple.

  “I’m afraid not.” She pretended to think. “It’s possible I heard the front door close. But I was shuffling the cards. Mentally preparing myself for the reading. I just wanted to get home.”

  “Are we done here?” Natalya asked. “She’s been through a terrible ordeal.”

  Spassov glanced at Bryce, who gave a slight nod.

  “We’re done,” Fra Spassov said. “For now.” He gave them both a stern look. “You’re not to speak of this incident, Dominas. To anyone.”

  “I wish it never happened,” Kasia said. “And thank you. I owe you both my life.”

  “Telephone the Curia if you remember anything else,” Fra Bryce said. “Give my name to the switchboard and they’ll put you through.”

  “Certainly. Oh, I left my purse at his house. And my raincoat. Will they be returned?”

  “We’ll convey your request,” Spassov said in a noncommittal tone.

  The priests left.

  Kasia stood at the window, watching until she saw them emerge from the building and get into their car. “Do you think they believed us?”

  “Of course they did.” Natalya slung an arm around her shoulders. “You were very credible.” She frowned. “Did Massot meet someone? You never mentioned that part.”

  “No, but I thought I should say so.” Kasia disliked loose ends. One hard tug and they could unravel a whole story. “The time he Turned was obviously important to them, though I don’t know why it matters. Unless they think something set him off. Fog it, I wish I knew.”

 

‹ Prev