Sleight of Fantasy

by Dima Zales

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Every cell in my body is screaming for me to leap to my feet and do something, but that would be pointless. I have no idea where the danger is, and who the target is.

  I take in a deep breath, then another, and hope all my practice in Nero’s cell pays off.

  Headspace eludes me, so I try again, using all my willpower to reach the prerequisite focus.

  I fail once. Twice.

  I take in another deep breath, and another.

  Finally, something clicks into place, and I spiral into Headspace.

  There are Antarctica-cold, maroon-colored, coppery-tasting triangular prisms all around me, and they exude a whole opera of fear and grief.

  Is this the vision my subconscious wants me to see?

  I have to assume the answer is yes. But what if it’s not? How long should I let the vision run for?

  Felix once guessed the initial shapes might be optimal length—but how much am I willing to bet on that theory? There’s a good chance I might have to run many visions over and over again, the way I did yesterday, and I don’t want to repeat yesterday’s mistake and run out of juice before I get any answers.

  I zoom in on the nearest shape just once. Hopefully, this will be a good compromise.

  When I proceed to touch my target, I feel resistance of the kind I came across when I had trouble with scary visions in the beginning of my Headspace journeys.

  Whatever this is, it must be another level of terrible.

  Clenching my metaphysical jaws, I keep focusing on the shape and willing my wisp to make the connection—over and over.

  On the tenth attempt, the vision violently sucks me in.

  I don’t have a body, and my perspective is floating just outside Felix’s room when he and Maya exit.

  “I’m sorry to cut this short.” Maya waves her phone next to where my face would be if I had one. “Mom just told me we’ll have Grandpa over, so I have to get there early.”

  Besides a text from Maya’s mother, the phone shows a background that is a selfie with Felix cheek to cheek. The time on the screen is 5:34 p.m.

  “That’s not a problem,” Felix says. Wistfully, he adds, “I’ve never met any of my grandfathers in person.”

  They walk to the front door, and I float after them, like a ghost.

  Felix unlocks the door and holds it open for Maya in that exaggeratedly gentlemanly way of his.

  Maya pushes the glasses up her nose with her tiny index finger, then saunters out.

  Felix follows her in a daze—as though hypnotized by the sway of her narrow hips.

  They stop next to the elevator and reach for the button together. Their fingers touch, and they both giggle like teenage girls.

  The elevator opens.

  If I had eyes right now, I’d blink. Repeatedly.

  A familiar slender, dark-haired, young-looking man is inside the elevator. His marble-green eyes dart from Felix to Maya, then back to Felix.

  “You,” Felix says. He must’ve also recognized the man as Koschei, Baba Yaga’s right-hand man.

  “Me,” Koschei says in that crypt keeper voice of his.

  Felix steps in front of Maya protectively, herding her away from the elevator.

  With barely perceptible movements, Koschei reaches into his blazer, pulls out an intricate knife, and leaps forward.

  Before Felix or Maya can react, Koschei is already slicing Felix’s throat.

  “Sorry, kid,” Koschei says when my roommate falls into an ever-growing pool of blood. “Can’t leave witnesses.”

  Maya opens her mouth to scream, but Koschei stabs her chest at the same time as his thin palm covers her mouth—

  I’m back on my bed, my whole body shaking as if I drank a cistern of espresso.

  Staggering to my feet, I grab my phone.

  It’s 5:34 p.m. already.

  The horrific vision I just saw is only seconds away.

  Grabbing the gun that I confiscated earlier, I run out of the room so fast my socks skid on the parquet floor.

  Felix’s back disappears as he closes the front door behind himself.

  Channeling all my recent practice at running, I sprint after him.

  If Kit opens that bathroom door in the wrong moment, Maya and Felix are toast.

  Or if I trip.

  Or if I’m too slow.

  When I’m at the door, I nearly drop the gun as I unlock it and leap out.

  Felix and Maya are halfway to the elevator.

  “Stop!” I point my gun at the elevator door. “Back here, now!”

  They either think I’m threatening them with the gun, or they don’t like my tone because they whiten. But the important thing is they rush back.

  Maya is within reach first, so I grab her by her hoodie and shove her into the apartment, then repeat the same rough treatment with Felix.

  Panting, I drop the chain on the door but leave it open a crack so I can hear what’s going on outside. If my vision looks to be coming true, I’ll have a moment to lock up—not that a lock is going to stop Koschei.

  “Fluffster!” I yell. “I think Koschei is about to attack me. Get ready to kick some ass.”

  I’m not sure if Fluffster was already by the door or if he appears so fast I don’t register his movements, but he’s suddenly next to me, his cute rodent face looking determined and very un-chinchilla-like.

  Felix and Maya are still staring at me wide-eyed, recovering their wits.

  The elevator dings outside.

  I hear soft footsteps and can almost picture Koschei walking out of that elevator.

  This is when I realize that my theory of him wanting to kill me has gaps.

  He works for Baba Yaga, and she told Nero that she’s not after me.

  And you can’t lie to Nero.

  Or can you?

  Is Nero so dumb as not to include Baba Yaga’s minions in the “don’t kill Sasha” deal?

  No.

  If anyone can make an airtight deal, it’s Nero.

  But then that leaves another possibility, one too frightening to even contemplate.

  What if Nero is the one lying… to me?

  Did Baba Yaga get to him somehow? Did she pay him to tell me not to worry?

  No.

  As much as he can be a pain in my butt, that’s just not something I can picture Nero doing.

  Baba Yaga figuring out some sneaky way to lie to Nero seems way more plausible.

  Then I realize something weird is happening.

  Koschei’s footsteps sound wrong.

  Instead of getting closer, they sound farther away.

  When I hear knocking on someone else’s door, the realization about the real danger smacks into my brain—and as it does, I get hit with the mother of all seer dreads.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I’m ripping at the chain when I hear Rose’s voice say, “Koschei? What are you doing here?”

  “Baba Yaga sent me,” he says just as I yank open my door. “She wanted me to tell you this isn’t personal, just business.”

  I raise my gun as I run.

  Koschei is clutching the front of Rose’s gown with one fist, the intricate knife I saw in my vision clutched in his other fist and poised for a strike.

  I shoot, praying I don’t hit Rose.

  A red spot blooms in Koschei’s shoulder, but the knife flashes down.

  Rose screams.

  I fire again—and though the bullet hits him in the torso, he doesn’t even look my way. The knife flashes in the air again, and Rose lets out another horrid scream.

  I aim for his head and pull the trigger.

  The bullet grazes his skull.

  He staggers slightly, but the knife is rising in the air again, like in a scene from Psycho.

  I close the distance and press the gun to his temple. Stomach roiling, I squeeze the trigger.

  His head explodes, and he and Rose drop to the floor.

  Panting, I shoot him in the chest, over and over, until
the gun clicks empty.

  His Cognizant aura flickers out, but I know it’s only temporary.

  They call him Koschei the Immortal for a reason.

  Fighting a bout of nausea, I pick up the knife from the floor and turn to face Rose.

  She’s lying on the doorstep of her apartment, bleeding profusely.

  I start to bend over her, but a flash of purple energy surrounds Koschei’s body.

  His Cognizant aura comes back, and all the bullets pop out of him, clinking on the floor.

  I take a dragging step back and clutch the knife in front of me.

  Koschei’s body rises, Nosferatu style.

  I realize I’m standing in the martial arts pose I’ve been practicing—props to Nero’s training.

  Koschei’s green eyes lock on me, then cut toward Rose’s prone body.

  I squeeze the handle tighter and wish either Nero or Thalia had taught me how to use a knife.

  Koschei looks back at me. “She won’t make it,” he informs me calmly. “My work here is done.”

  Turning, he walks back to the elevator.

  I stare at him, struggling to breathe as he presses the button.

  “You’re not going to kill me?” I ask numbly as the doors open and he steps in.

  He cocks his head. “Did you want me to?”

  Before I can reply, the elevator doors slide shut, like the curtains in some macabre theater.

  Still numb, I glance at my apartment door.

  Felix’s head is peeking out, so I shout, “Call an ambulance. Now!” and kneel next to the puddle of blood spreading out from Rose’s body.

  Her breath is coming out in pained gurgles, and her Cognizant aura is faint.

  “The stone Nero gave you for the Jubilee,” she chokes out. “Bring it to me.”

  Can she use it to heal herself?

  Hope adds strength to my legs as I sprint to my apartment, almost trampling Felix, Maya, and Fluffster in the doorway.

  “Stay inside!” I bark at them as I zoom into my room.

  For all I know, Koschei is trying to draw them out.

  Yanking open a drawer, I locate the necklace and sprint back—this time nearly knocking down Kit, who just came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

  As I whoosh out of the apartment, I hear Felix giving the 911 operator our address over the phone.

  Reaching Rose, I kneel next to her and put the stone into her bloody palm. “Here it is, what you asked for.”

  In the short time I was gone, the dark red puddle on the floor has grown, and Rose’s pale skin has taken on a translucent tint.

  A lump forms in the back of my throat as the gurgling sounds of her strained breathing intensify, and her gaze struggles to focus on me.

  An agonizing second later, recognition glimmers in her eyes. “I think I know what this was about,” she rasps out, bloody spittle accompanying her words. “If I’m right, this should help.” Her fingers spasmodically tighten on the stone.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask frantically, then shake my head. “Never mind that. Don’t talk. Save your strength for healing.”

  “No.” Her gaze sharpens on my face. “You have to take care of Vlad.”

  “You’ll take care of him yourself,” I say through the growing obstruction in my throat. “Stop talking crazy.”

  A gurgling cough shakes her frame, and blood dribbles out of the corner of her mouth. “You have to promise me,” she whispers, her eyes locked on me with the same odd intensity.

  I squeeze her empty hand. “Of course. I promise.”

  She looks at the stone in her palm, as though trying to hypnotize it. A breath later, a flood of blush-pink energy streams from her whole body into the stone.

  The rock shines, and her Cognizant aura disappears.

  No.

  This is not happening.

  I press my fingers to her neck.

  No heartbeat.

  Hands shaking, I take out my phone and press the glass screen to her lips.

  No sign of breath.

  On autopilot, I swipe across the phone’s screen with ice-cold fingers, dialing Nero.

  The phone rings a few times before his voicemail comes on.

  “Rose is dead,” I say, my voice like a stranger’s in my ears. “I need you.”

  Hanging up, I stare numbly at the phone before I remember something important.

  Vlad.

  He has to know.

  My brain feels like a sieve, but I somehow recall the numbers I saw Rose put into her phone.

  I punch them in.

  Vlad’s phone rings once. Twice. On the third ring, the call connects.

  “Hello?” he says, sounding worried.

  I swallow the rock in my throat. “Vlad, it’s Sasha. About Rose…”

  “Where are you?” His voice is terrifying.

  “Her apartment. I think she—”

  The phone line is already dead.

  Dead.

  The word presses on my chest like an iceberg, breaking something deep inside. Spots flashing in my vision, I sit there for an indeterminate amount of time.

  “Rose,” Felix exclaims from somewhere near me. “What happened?”

  I jump to my feet and spin around so fast I nearly puke.

  Felix, Maya, and Kit are behind me, horrified expressions on their faces.

  Sudden fury lashes at me. “I told you to stay inside. Do you want Koschei to kill you too?”

  Felix looks as though I smacked him as he backs away.

  “Koschei did this?” Kit’s usually mischievous expression is grave. “The Council will have to dispatch the Enforcers right away—though probably not Vlad.”

  “Vlad is on the way,” I hear myself saying as though from afar.

  “Take Sasha inside,” Kit says imperiously to Felix and Maya. “I’ll get the nearest Enforcer to deal with any errant humans arriving at the scene. We want this place empty when Vlad appears.”

  I clear my sandpaper-like throat. “I should be here when he arrives. I promised to look after him.”

  Ignoring my words, Maya and Felix grab me by the shoulders.

  A part of me wants to fight, but I let them drag me into my room since my submission has a bonus effect: it gets those two inside the apartment, where I want them.

  Time moves in discrete jumps, as if I’m stoned. One moment I’m by the door, the next I’m by my bed.

  Since my legs are trembling, I find it easiest to collapse onto it.

  “What happened?” Fluffster says inside my mind.

  “Koschei killed Rose,” Felix whispers. “Sasha saw it happen. I’m worried about her.”

  Fluffster jumps onto the bed and cuddles up next to me. Either Felix or Maya cover me with a blanket and soothingly stroke my back.

  None of it works.

  I just lie there, my thoughts circling like a fidget spinner.

  This can’t be true.

  Rose can’t be dead.

  Maybe someone in the Cognizant community has a power akin to what Koschei does to himself—the power to bring Rose back?

  No.

  Kit or someone would’ve mentioned it.

  My chin quivers, and there’s a pressure in the back of my eyes, but the tears don’t come—as though my tear ducts are clogged. When I was little, no matter how awful I felt, a good bout of weeping would always make me feel better—a bit like a proper puking can sometimes make even the worst nausea recede.

  I bet the tears don’t come because I deep down believe I don’t deserve to feel better. After all, this was what the vision of the funeral was about—and I didn’t figure it out in time. I failed to save Rose. She wasn’t even on the list of people I was worried about—and she should’ve been.

  Once I start down the guilt road, more and more self-flagellating thoughts arrive. If I’d let my last vision have a longer duration, I would’ve seen Koschei walk toward Rose’s apartment after he killed Felix and Maya—and there would have been a chance to do something.
Maybe. Also, the very reason he killed her might be me, as I’m beginning to think Baba Yaga’s plan is to torment me by killing people I care about.

  The back stroking stops, and Maya and Felix tiptoe out of the room.

  Do they think I fell asleep?

  More than anything I wish I were asleep, and this were all a nightmare.

  Then again, how do I know that it’s not?

  For that matter, how do I know I’m not having a vision right now? I’ve seen people I care about die in my visions.

  The problem with that theory is I don’t remember entering Headspace before all this happened. But then would I? If I hadn’t gained conscious control over my visions, I’d think I’m in one of those unsolicited awake visions, or even a dream like the ones I’d started with. But I do have conscious control now, so it can’t be one of those.

  Hold on. Can you go into Headspace from inside a vision? No one explicitly told me this, but it seems like it should be an impossibility. Else you’d get visions inside visions inside visions ad infinitum, which seems kind of crazy.

  Okay then.

  I need to reach Headspace.

  Having something to do without leaving my fetal pose and releasing Fluffster’s fur is good, so I try it.

  And fail.

  Over and over.

  Am I sabotaging myself because I want this to be a vision?

  Pushing that and other thoughts away, I drag in a breath through the lump in my throat and slowly let it out. Then I do it again and again.

  The Headspace focus seems to be within my grasp when I hear the horrific noise.

  Someone roars in pain; then there’s ripping and crashing.

  Fluffster extricates himself from my tense grasp. “I’m going to go find out what’s happening.”

  The noises continue, but I can’t bring myself to move.

  Finally, the clamor stops, and Fluffster runs back into the room.

  “That was Vlad,” he explains to me mentally. “He did not take the news well.”

  “Vlad?” I look at the domovoi.

  “He went berserk, then stormed off somewhere.” Fluffster paces the room. “Kit is concerned. She thinks he should let his Enforcers handle this and recuse himself on the account of having a personal relationship with the victim. She thinks that Vlad is going to get revenge without due process, which can have dire consequences for him with the Council.”