Chapter 34
Valya
Later That Day
Her breath was loud and rasping to her ears. Yet she still heard the voice. His voice.
You deserve this, old woman.
Because Valya had yet to open her eyes, her brain scrambled and fuzzy, the voice floated up to her as though it were severed from the phantom body.
But she could tell the demon was in the room, whatever room she lay in (she was horizontal and reasonably comfortable, so she was likely in a bed, maybe hers).
She felt his wicked presence like cold vapor on her skin, caught the whiff of his rot in her old nostrils.
“Go away!” she shouted, swiping at empty air. Her hand was abnormally heavy.
Suddenly, another voice spoke, real, familiar. “Baba Valya?” Dear.
Valya tried to open her eyes. But they were sealed shut. As though she were in a coffin dreaming she had blinked awake, when in reality she was dead.
“Are you all right? Baba Valya?”
It was her granddaughter. She wanted to say, Yes, but the demon prevented it.
This is better than you deserve. You deserve to die for what you did.
“I did nothing!” wrenched from her. “Go away!” Valya tried to block out the infernal spirit, draw closer to the voice she wanted, Zina’s, as if it were the sun.
Finally, Valya forced her eyes open. Her surroundings took shape blearily.
She couldn’t see very far, partly due to her horrible vision.
Her room was blurred, softened at the edges, seeming great distances away.
Then Zina’s face came into brilliant focus.
Tears needled Valya’s eyes, though she had not wept since her daughter’s death.
But the spirit hovered just behind her granddaughter, the better to torment Valya. Maybe someone else should pay for what you have done.
“Is there anybody else here?” Valya asked through a dry mouth.
“No, Katya and Dr. Misha just left. It is almost nine o’clock.”
The spirit shifted into view, and Valya saw the pockmarked sepia gray of his skin, those glowing eyes, that maw—curved into a hungry, vengeful smile. Maybe your serving girl will pay. Or your granddaughter. Even if she is my blood.
“Stay away from her,” Valya demanded.
“Baba Valya—what—?”
“He is behind you.” She caught sight of the amulet, dangling from her granddaughter’s wrist, not on her neck as it should be. “Put on the amulet,” she barked. “Now.”
Zina blanched, hastily slipping the herbs over her head.
Argh! The spirit growled, low, beast-like, before vanishing.
“He is gone.” Valya let out a relieved breath, falling back against the pillows.
The pain in her ribs and head did not bode well.
She accepted the drink of cold, clear water that Zina offered her, then felt her granddaughter catch her fingers and lower a kiss onto the papery skin there.
It brought in a little warmth, a lot of clarity.
“Zina, I need to speak to you,” Valya said finally. “It is time—to tell you everything.”
Zina nodded. “It is.”
“I am sorry it has taken me this long.”
“No, it is my fault, Babushka. I shouldn’t have put us in such danger with—them. I know they did this.”
“Yes, they probably did.” Valya squeezed her granddaughter’s hand.
“But it is entirely my fault. You see, Zinachka, I was afraid. I hated the possibility of implicating you in all this. But I confess it was really an excuse. I…well, didn’t want you to think badly of me, or your mother.
Now I realize it is worse that you do not know. You need to know it. All of it.”
Valya let out a long sigh at the prospect of sinking back into the memory of the most tragic night of her life—the night she had discovered her daughter’s dead body on their tearoom floor.
Then, slowly, very slowly, Valya started to talk.
And once her story was streaming out, it would not stop.
It could not stop. Not until it was finished.