43. Evelyn
Tomorrow night was the eclipse.
Caleb hadn’t contacted me since.
Jimmy was in Arkham, but we had no idea where.
Laszlo and I had just had another bout of earth-shattering sex, trying to outrun our fears through pleasure. Fatigue claimed every inch of me, my last orgasm almost painful in its intensity.
The bathroom was warm and steamy despite the torrential rainfall outside, the wind howling as if it were a warning. I focused on the now: Laszlo helping me pin my hair up in a careful bun so it wouldn’t get wet too early.
He dropped in a bath bomb, helped me into the tub, and he settled in. I sat between his legs, and his arms wrapped around my midsection. The tiles glittered with the candles Laszlo had lit, and there was a soft vanilla added to the lavender in the air.
I tried not to let my thoughts turn dark and failed.
I wasn’t frightened enough when he asked me to be his avenging angel. It was all just a future possibility, a chance for bad people to be punished in a society that couldn’t punish the wealthy and powerful.
When I was ordering vast quantities of concentrated nitric acid and preparing explosive materials, my worry was that I might screw up and die before getting a chance to avenge his sister with him. That was what kept me going.
But now we were on the eve of our big moment, and it started to feel real.
I was terrified. He couldn’t die and leave me all alone.
I whimpered, and he stroked his long fingers over my waist.
“It’s okay, Lyn,” he said, kissing the crown of my head. “I know you’re scared, but I will never let anything happen to you. We won’t have to worry about Jimmy once we get into the party, and we’ll stay locked up in our fortress until then.”
“Jimmy doesn’t scare me as much as the thought of losing you. You’re my serebryanyye glaza. I need you…”
“My love, I need you too. I didn’t even realize how much I needed you.” He stroked my stomach, the warm water lapping at my skin. Tension still coiled in my muscles, and I needed his care to chase them away.
“Will you wash my hair?”
“I’d love nothing more.”
His fingers tenderly guided the bobby pins out of place.
My hair floated on the surface of the warm water.
Vanilla shampoo soothed my scalp as his firm fingers massaged my sensitive skin.
My hair was heavy, and I moaned with pleasure as he helped lighten the burden for me.
His motions were meticulous, respectful.
My skin prickled with pleasant sensations as he worked his fingers to the back of my head, behind my ears. Beneath me, his cock had begun to stiffen again, and I pressed into it, hungry to have all of him against all of me.
His hands worked into the bulk of my hair, soaping it up as I’d taught him, taking care not to strip the natural oils from the bottom parts of my locks.
After he helped me rinse, he repeated it all with the conditioner, this time pinning my hair up to let it set.
I sank into his naked body, his arms wrapped around me, and I hugged them.
“Lyn, there’s something you should know. You have this,” he said, touching the protection crystal between my collarbone with all due reverence. “But I have these.”
I fluttered my eyes open, watched as he stroked his arm, over the intricate runes and black marks that covered his entire torso, his throat, parts of his hands.
“What do you mean?”
“Some of these… they were done to me. The ones underneath. I had to cover them up, because they were cursed. Remember the Ancient Greek you found on the computer? They were like that. I thought they were generic occult symbols, wanted to hide them all.”
“And the scars?”
“Yes. When I was down there… It was heinous, Lyn. They carved into our skin. Whipped us. Strapped us to slabs and…”
He trailed off, sucking in a long breath, and I held his hand, stroking him as he confronted the shadows of his mind. The things he tried not to remember.
“You don’t have to tell me. I know we wouldn’t be doing this if there was any doubt they were evil.”
“I never really understood the purpose of it all. When I was younger, I figured it was a fucked-up way to ingratiate themselves to the Bratva. An initiation rite. But then what you found, I don’t know, maybe it was some satanic ritual, and that was why so many kids were sacrificed.”
The steam rose as I sank further into the bath, my head on his shoulder. I twisted my head, kissing his jaw.
“Understanding why wouldn’t help us understand how.”
“Your wisdom always astounds me.”
“I’m sorry, Laszlo. There aren’t words strong enough to tell you how much I hate that your family did that to you.”
“I know, angel. We both bear the scars of our past. But mine were visible, and I covered them with binding runes. These are meant to protect, symbols older than language. They’re all over me.
If you believe this,” he touched my necklace, “keeps you safe, then believe that I will be kept safe. We are doing something righteous. If there is any kind of just god, it’ll be looking kindly on what we need to do. ”
He was always careful to avoid the religion discussion with me, and I didn’t know how to feel about him bringing it up now. But worrying about what could happen wouldn’t prevent it from happening. I wanted to enjoy my last night with him as Belle and Laszlo Szász.
By this time tomorrow night, we would be at the party where our old lives would end, and our new ones would begin.
It was strange to plan for my own death, but after tonight, I would be dead. An eerie calm dripped down over me like a burial shroud, and as I stared at the foreign woman in the mirror, it was an apt descriptor.
The Russian Imperial Court costume was unlike anything I’d worn before. The fabric was thick, heavy cotton, dotted with pearls in an elaborate design. Brocade panels formed the centre piece, the ivory fabric woven with silver and gold.
The sleeves were the most unusual part. They were so long that they nearly met the bottom of the dress when I moved my hands, and it was perfect for what I needed it for.
I couldn’t very well go into a costume ball wearing a suicide vest, but I’d spent all morning carefully sewing various lethal components into the sleeves, the bulky hemline, hiding them beneath the yards and yards of thick fabric.
I was thankful to the cult for my practical sewing skills and knowledge of explosive devices. Laszlo helped with the electrical parts.
“No one will search you,” I muttered to myself, not quite believing it. The driver had arrived ten minutes ago, and we were almost ready. Night had fallen. The ghosts of our past were uneasy, drawn out of the dark by the eclipse.
Laszlo entered our dressing room. I’d spent the afternoon, sat on his lap—on his erection—while I sewed explosive material into my fine Tzarist dress.
When I was finished and cautiously set it aside, we fucked.
It was hard and bruising, and I felt his mark between my thighs, reminding me of what we have.
He knew better than to touch me right now since I had enough nitro and fulminates hidden on me to blow up the entire block. Instead, he stared in awe.
“You are the most beautiful thing in the world.”
I could barely recognize him. Gone was the goth aristocrat look I’d fallen in love with, and in its place was something centuries older.
Large, cloth gauntlets, leather boots up to his knees, and a white Boyar costume, draping handsomely over his equally white pants.
The golden embroidery was hand stitched, delicate despite the ominous two-headed bird, splayed out, looking in both directions.
I never thought I’d see him in something bright.
Especially not on the darkest night of our adult lives.
His tattoos were hidden, his black hair styled back out of his face.
On his hip was a golden sword and scabbard.
I’d encrusted the hilt in rubies, to make it look ceremonial, but it was sharp and deadly, just like him.
“You look amazing,” I said. He smiled, but there were no dimples, his silver eyes uncreased, and I frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Jimmy still hasn’t made a move on you.”
Acid burned my stomach, already churned up from the stress of getting dressed. “Maybe he changed his mind.” I didn’t believe it, but I wanted to.
“We can’t bring our guards tonight. It’d look suspicious after Urvan told me not to.”
“We’ll be dead soon. He won’t be stupid enough to come to the party.”
He sucked in air through his nose, nodding. “They’ll catch him if he tries to get in. Keep your taser on you. They won’t be searching guests for this party. It’s the inner circle.”
“I wish we could forget all this, run to our bedroom, hide from it all,” I confessed, and he stopped himself from wrapping his arm around my hip.
“You can.” Pain split his voice, and my eyes narrowed.
“No. No, that was not the plan. We are in this together.”
“You don’t have to do this, Lyn.”
“I know I don’t! Laszlo, you don’t get it, do you? You are my home! That’s the only time I feel whole, and without me, I know what will happen. You’ll die. If I’m with you…”
“If you’re with me, I’ll have something to live for.”
The leaves had fallen. The windstorm last night had swept them all away, leaving in its wake the ominous branches that clawed at the bright night sky.
The moon was an eerie red as it rose above the horizon, and I forced my gaze away.
At the back of my mind was an itch, a curiosity about whether Henry was being married off to a girl in my place under the umbral moon.
Guilt roiled in my stomach, but I had no power over such things.
The cult was loyal to Caleb alone. I was a traitor, just another fodder for the flame, in their parlance.
A fallen one, an apostate, a traitor, a heathen.
If I had a younger sister, I would have saved her, though, and that’s what Laszlo was trying to do. He needed to know what happened to her. He couldn’t have a future until he stared his past in the face.
We didn’t talk.
There weren’t any words.
I touched his gloved hand as we sat in the backseat of the SUV, and I prayed that the explosives wouldn’t go off. Despite my precautions, I couldn’t guarantee absolute safety when dealing with volatile chemicals.
By the time we arrived at a mansion an hour away, my heart was choking me and I was at risk of fainting.
Seeing Rurik at the gates did nothing to help me keep it together.
I hadn’t seen him in a long time, but he was unmistakable. His military buzz-cut had grown out a bit, his body still rippling with muscles. His green eyes were narrowed, serious. I never got a good sense of who he was. He always kept me off balance, and now was no different.
Laszlo squeezed my hand, noticing where my gaze was drawn, and when the vehicle was ushered through without further inspection, I swooned.
He pulled his mask over his face, hiding behind a triumvirate. The one on the right was crying. The one facing forward was stoic. The one on the left was joyous.
Past. Present. Future?
“Belle. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. I want you to remember that tonight. No matter what happens, our currents will always flow together. You’re in my blood, and I’m in yours. Forever.”
I prayed.
Not to the God I used to believe in, the one used to control and subjugate me.
Our love was a divine thing. My new religion.
He was a man who never knew how to love.
I was a woman who never knew how to be loved.
Yet together, we forged something impossible out of the wreckages of our lives.
It would protect us from whatever was to come.
The driver opened my door, and was about to help me exit when Laszlo shoved him out of the way, gently taking my hand.
For a moment, it was romantic. I could pretend this was just a fancy party. That we were visiting dignitaries, ready to be entertained and schmoozed.
I held onto that energy as we approached the front door, and Laszlo said in perfect Russian, “Ustani, planina”.
The heavy oak doors parted for us, and inside was the most lavish party I had ever dreamed of.
Laszlo stiffened at my side.