38. Laszlo
Ihated having to go downtown and meet Urvan in his office. The entire building was owned by him, the bottom floors dedicated to the Bratva’s legitimate financial fronts. Real estate, hotel management. The slow but steady draining of money from regular people to the organization.
He was always charming, well-mannered, but also very clever. Fucking it up with him would be fatal. I had to guard my expressions, my true intentions, and it took a toll.
Refusing an invitation was even more deadly, though, so I parked the Aston Martin, and stepped out into the crisp fall air. It was the best time of year. I could dress in my finest, heaviest suits, and didn’t have to worry about slush or ice.
The simple pleasures.
I straightened my long, black overcoat, plucking off a strand of Lyn’s hair from my cuff. I was about to let it drop, but sentimentality got the best of me. When she was with me, I felt calmer. Keeping a part of her on me was the best I could do.
She’d hosted dinners for Urvan a few times and was always gracious and warm. He liked her. I didn’t like that, despite it being useful to me.
My bodyguards had followed in a BMW, and I gestured to them. “Silva, Misha, wait across the street for me.”
I wasn’t used to the idea of having bodyguards, and shook them any chance I got. With Jimmy back, I swallowed my distaste. Scorpion hadn’t found any more useful information about his return, but I was on high alert, as were Aleksei and Ilya.
They had a permanent office in Silver Belle’s across from her, and I checked the live feed, seeing everyone where they should be. Lyn was on the phone, her expression light, her shoulders relaxed.
I wanted to give her that feeling every day for the rest of her life.
Calm, open, happy.
“It’d be better if we were inside,” Silva said.
He was always the more ballsy of the two, and he towered over even me.
His family had been involved with the Bratva for a long time, but he didn’t have the brains or the drive to move up.
He liked getting his hands dirty and had a good eye for security detail.
Misha was milder, cleverer. There was a spark of something dangerous, but his easy presence made up for it.
Neither understood technology. That was the most important thing.
Between the two of them, I felt as safe as I could, given the fact that I was about to fuck over every single Bratva in this gods forsaken city.
“Fine. Inside.”
I took long strides into the reception lobby as my bodyguards took up position in the waiting area.
The woman behind the main desk was petite, blonde, young, and perky. Another reason I was protective of Lyn around Urvan. I flexed my hand, the leather glove groaning.
“Mr. Szász! Welcome. Mr. Fortov is with someone else, but you can take a seat. Can I get you some sparkling water?”
“No thank you, Kata.”
She offered the same to my men, and they followed my lead in declining.
The leather wingback was comfortable, if nothing else, and faced towards the street.
I wondered how many people walking by this business knew what it was a front for.
They had no discomfort strolling by, as if it were any other office building.
What would they do if they were faced with the rot under this entire fucking city?
A man stumbled from the elevator, hands over his hip. Blood seeped between his fingers. Kata smiled at him, as if this weren’t unusual.
“Mr. Shelepov, I’ve arranged a ride for you out front. The black G-Wagon. I hope to see you again soon.”
The exchange was surreal as Mr. Shelepov lurched forward, clutching his wound, and Misha opened the glass door for him. Knife, I imagined, though I tried not to.
“Mr. Szász, Mr. Fortov will see you now.”
“Thank you, Kata.”
My face was stone, my breathing regular. I swallowed down every emotion I had, willing myself not to choke on them. The elevator music was peaceful, upbeat, in contrast to the sterile violence housed in this building of glass and steel.
It opened to the sixteenth floor, and I passed by Urvan’s bodyguards without acknowledgement. My leather glove muted my knock on the glass door, but Urvan shouted, “Enter,” and I did.
I hated Urvan, in part because of how I begrudgingly came to respect him. Enjoy his company, in my weaker moments, when I forget what it is the Bratva does, and who they are beneath the mask of civility.
We were the same kind of monster, though, and I had to have my wits to outplay him.
His tailored jacket was thrown over the black high-back chair beside his desk, the fine wood furniture contrasting against the featureless glass wall.
It looked out over Arkham, and the Miskatonic River sparkled in the distance.
Beyond it was endless oranges and reds and greens of fall still in high bloom.
I glanced at the blood on Urvan’s hand.
“It must’ve been personal,” I guessed, as Urvan went to the bar, pouring up two fingers of scotch, handing it to me. He took a sip of his own crystal glass.
“The man worked with my father. Raised me, in a way.”
“Family’s complicated,” I said, drinking my scotch and taking the chair Urvan gestured to.
He finished his drink and only then did he take out his kerchief, wiping the blood from his palm. He wanted me to see it. Why? A threat? Or was he hoping to rattle me, see if I cracked?
I’d worked for him for over a year, and I hadn’t broken yet. I was calm. Impassive. I took another sip of scotch. crossed my leg, my ankle on my knee, my polished black wingtip reflecting the sun.
“Family is complicated,” he agreed, slumping down behind his desk. He was tired.
My brows tightened, and I hoped it looked concerned.
Mimicking emotions wasn’t one of my skill-sets, which was why I’d made myself invaluable behind a computer screen.
“Tell me, Laszlo, have you ever done any party planning?”
I forgot myself, laughed, and Urvan’s mood lightened.
My blood sloshed in my skull. “No, Sir, I have not. I don’t care much for attending parties.”
“Shame. It’s one of the few times you can show off your sense of style.” His gaze dropped, taking in my bespoke outfit. In less stressful times, we exchanged fashion tips, found ways to skim some luxury items out of drops.
“Dinner parties are more my vibe.”
“I remember,” Urvan smiled, and it was genuine, despite making my skin crawl. “How is Belle doing?”
“My wife is quite well. Silver Belle’s has her busy most of the time.”
“Clever name, that. How’d she come up with it?”
It was uncomfortable talking about Lyn with him. Protecting her was everything to me, and every time Urvan brought her up, it felt like a test. The real answer was that she loved my eyes and wanted the storefront to be a part of both of us.
The answer I gave him was, “It’s her favourite Christmas song.”
“I was in there the other day,” he said, and ice prickled into my veins. What day? I would have to rewatch the footage. Lyn hadn’t mentioned it to me, which meant she’d not been there. She often worked from our penthouse when she was designing.
“Did you see anything you liked?”
We were getting off topic. I should have been steering it back, not indulging my curiosity.
“I did, yes. I think I might have a custom order made, but the sales girl said she didn’t think Belle was taking commissions right now. She made your rings, yes?”
“Some of them. This one,” I said, showing him my full finger piece, the articulated snake with the Oregon Sunstone. “And our wedding rings.” That one was a snake curling around an egg, protective of it. Like I was with her.
My precious girl.
“I’m sensing a motif,” he teased, his eyes flashing with intellect. I didn’t like the insinuation, but I chuckled in a good-natured manner.
“What can I say? I have to pay respect to my gothic aesthetic. Spiders, lizards, snakes, scorpions, crabs…”
I regretted saying that, the memory of Jimmy Chernyk enough to steal my good humour away. Urvan’s head ticked to the side, noting my change in temperament, and I cursed myself. Taking a long sip of the scotch, I set the empty tumbler to the side.
“It’s nothing. Trouble with an associate.”
Urvan wore a beatific smile.
“Best you not let it get out of hand. You’ll feel a lot better once you assert yourself.”
“You feel better, then?”
“I do,” Urvan said, though he went to the bar and poured us both two fresh drinks. I hated day drinking, but alcoholism was another mask I had to wear around them. “I do enjoy your company, Laszlo, but I don’t wish to waste your time. It is… quite valuable to me to have you working.”
It was a sincere compliment, and I raised my glass in a toast.
“But…”
I sipped. Waited. Urvan wanted to increase the suspense, see how I would react; I gave him nothing but patience.
“Well, I will need you to take a night off; two weeks from Thursday. Surely your bots can handle the markets for an evening?”
The night of the eclipse, just as Lyn suggested.
“What do you need me for?” I asked, planting both feet on the floor, my stance spread, elbows on my knees.
“Oh, nothing like that. It’s this party. I want you to represent my authority there. Don’t worry, you can bring that darling wife of yours.”
I leaned back, pretending to drink it all in, considering it. I had to act surprised at the invite. Blood rushed between my ears and I pushed my heel down until there was a stab of pain in my foot. It was a trick to focus. Bring the heat in my chest down.
“It won’t be a dinner party, will it?”
“No, unfortunately. This is more of a gala. Including costumes. Some of the men from the old country are coming, and it is our job to entertain and soothe their anxieties. Let them know everything here is in good hands.”
That was a hell of a way to describe an occult orgy with a side of ritual child abuse.
I drank the rest of the glass, hoping my anxiety could be justified with my general anti-social behaviour.
“How many guests?”
“Oh, one-hundred, I’d wager.”
“Should I bring my guards?”
“No. No, I don’t think there’s anywhere on Earth where you’d be safer than at this party. The guest list has been personally vetted. Only people on our payroll.”
I let out a sigh, feigning hesitance, weighing the options before I nodded.
“Fine. If it will help you, then I’m happy to do it, Urvan. Anything I need to know?”
“Mmm, there is a password for entry. Ustani, planina.”
“Arise mountain?” Arise… Lyn had translated the Ancient Greek to ‘Arise Hell’, carved into stone beneath the mansion. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Urvan shrugged. He didn’t know, or was a better bluffer than I thought.
“It’s part of the pomp. I can’t say I dislike a little ceremony, though, can you?”
“I suppose not. Better than those orgies Bodrov used to throw.”
Urvan sneered at the reminder. He hated Bodrov’s base drive, how reckless and plain his desires were. Another point we could agree upon.
“High school parties are better than the ones that man held.”
I laughed, genuine this time, and Urvan joined me. He seemed lighter than he had when I entered. Calmer. Not like he was going to stab me in the guts and send me on my way in a G-Wagon.
“I look forward to seeing you there, Laszlo.” I stood, ready to be dismissed, and he took my gloved hand in his, a speck of blood still on the pale web of his palm.
“There is a dress code. I suggest you speak to your tailor at once, and inform them that you need a traditional aristocratic ballroom set.”
I dug my heel in deeper into the pin I’d placed in my shoe, keeping myself grounded in the present.
“How camp.”
Urvan grinned. “Don’t let the Pakhan hear you say that. It’s his preference.”
That was the confirmation I needed.
Lord Ivan Vasilyev would be there. The man who ruined my life.
My blood screamed inside me, my muscles and tendons tightening, desperate to run, to get out of my flesh, and escape before my face registered any emotion. I hoped I distorted my face into one of mild surprise.
Doubt I could get all the way to delight. At least, not an innocent delight.
“He sticking around long?”
Urvan grinned. “Mm, a week. Checking in on how we’ve been doing. Don’t worry, he knows about you. A lot about you, actually. He asked for me to invite you personally.”
I swallowed it all down and gave a tight smile. “I will make you proud,” I managed, and Urvan read something on me, held my hand, studied my face, then his eyes dipped down, settling on the cuff of my arm.
“Ah, your wife clings to you, even now. Isn’t that sweet?” He plucked the hair from my jacket, letting it fall, settling on the rug beneath his feet. I hated that any part of her would be nearer him than I, but my strained smile had to suffice.
“She will be excited when I tell her we’re finally going to a real party,” I choked out, and he finally guided me to the door.
“I will see you both in a fortnight. Your driver will get the location the evening of.”
Two weeks.
Two weeks, and then vengeance would be mine.