Chapter 6
Zina
Before I could open my mouth, the spirit lunged at me in a rush of cold air that slapped me with its flat, dead quality.
Zina, he rasped out, as though he hadn’t spoken in centuries.
“You know my name?” I was bewildered—not just by the spirit but by the deep darkness all around me. A bubble, black as night and completely impenetrable.
The spirit grabbed me by the elbows, his pale phantom hands passing through my flesh. Yet I still somehow felt him on me. I inhaled sharply, panicked. Sensed no smell, no color, no energy. This absence of life, of an aura, brought on a fresh wave of horror.
I live—in the walls, the spirit forced out, his French old, outdated.
Suddenly, the dark world tilted so I nearly lost my footing. The spirit released me, and I stumbled back. I dug my heels into whatever bottom shifted beneath me in our bubble, but it was seized by earthquake-like tremors.
I clung on as the crashing continued, something repeatedly striking against its surface, somewhere outside, whatever and wherever that was.
The spirit’s eyes burned a little less brightly, his face crumpling, and his garments—those of another era, with a waistcoat and top hat—started to drain of color and grow mottled with spots of age.
Despite my horror, I took a step toward him, trying to control my trembling.
You are the first, he rasped, the strange light in his eyes flaring anew.
“To do what?”
To hear me. To see me. I am dead.
“Well, monsieur, that is quite apparent, as I believe my séance summoned you from the beyond.” Either that or I was seeing things, experiencing some kind of nervous fit.
Your grandmother— His urgency bled away. He watched me with a dark gaze. You look like her.
“Like my grandmother—or my mother?” I took another step toward the spirit. “I know you knew them, that you were a client.”
Yes. Now I am here—have been for years. Trapped.
“Trapped? In Samovar?”
Something slammed against the black bubble, and I nearly fell to my knees.
Samovar. Oh, yes, that is what she called it.
It was mine, all mine—before it was taken from me.
They tricked me. The light in his eyes flared to life once more, and he grabbed me by the arms and shook me violently.
Do you understand? What will you do? You must do something. You must right the injustice.
I let out a cry, the spirit’s non-touch aching like frost on my skin.
He was tripping over his words now, his speech ripping out of him. Your grandmother and Sveta—they deceived me. Stole from me. Blood, so much blood. I remember…No, that is all I remember. This place was born of blood. My blood.
The bubble shook so intensely that my head gave another violent spin, and the ground finally totally slipped out from under my feet.
The spirit clawed for me, his black maw opening in a horrific roar. His now-spotted, yellowing face twisted and merged with the blackness. My surroundings reduced to a wild maelstrom of sight and sound, as if I were traveling at the speed of light. It distorted his next word: Beware.
Then, Daughter, whispered on an unseen, vanishing wind.
And I was hurled into the same nothingness of my youth, seeing and hearing and feeling no more.