Chapter 41
Zina
I paced the consulting room, having forgotten my own troubles, only imagining that demon, his horrifying words: She is mine.
The day mirrored my mood: It was dark and sullen, the smell of caught candlelight lingering from the night before, the salt and seeds crunching like cockroaches beneath my shoes.
“You are sure that is what he said?” Sergei’s lily-white energy turned grayish with doubt.
“Yes.” Though, truthfully, I was no longer sure of anything, past the nausea, the lack of sleep, the consuming fear. Still. I had to be strong. I had to do this.
Sergei, Katya, and even Baba Valya had gathered in the consulting room, my grandmother having only begrudgingly descended the stairs upon hearing of Sergei’s visit.
I had telephoned him at the Théatre des Champs-élysées first thing in the morning, asking him to meet us at the tearoom.
Baba Valya still had not spoken to the medium, though I was optimistic, as she kept stealing glances at him and muttering to herself.
“Now will you tell me what a spiritual expulsion entails?” I demanded. “We are out of time.”
Sergei let out a sigh. “All right.” He paused for a minute, then spoke.
“You will need to hold a séance during which you call forth the Grand Duke’s spirit and keep him in the in-between with you long enough for us to do the expulsion itself.
Many mediums have not been able to return from such a deep trance, which by its nature isn’t a safe, controlled environment.
There is a very real possibility that you will lose control not only of the spirit but of yourself.
You may become vulnerable to dark spirits and other nechistaya sila. ”
“That sounds too dangerous, Zina,” Katya said worriedly from the consulting table, where she sat with a dozing Zefir in her arms. “You have lost consciousness almost every time you’ve held a séance, especially one with the Grand Duke’s spirit.
There are times we haven’t been able to pull you out at all. What if…?”
“I am trapped there,” I finished for her.
I recalled that gaping darkness of my youth and shivered.
I thought back to my séance with the ladies of rue Daru the night before—I had found the spirits I had called upon, but Katya’s sister crashed through the séance, and I lost control.
“I have been practicing, but it’s true, I don’t feel entirely ready,” I confessed.
“Still, it is time. We have to do this now, before it’s too late. Before she is lost forever.”
“But you cannot sacrifice yourself for this,” Katya said quietly. “For her…she is, well—”
“I agree.” Baba Valya spoke in a breathless voice from her settee. “I loved your mother, love her still, but she is gone, Zina. We cannot give up your life for her dead one. She wouldn’t want that. Actually, she would probably kill me if I let you do it.”
“And what, we stay in the tearoom, live with the haunting? Give up and move? Lose our home, our business? We knew an expulsion would be dangerous. I want to try, Babushka. I need to. Not only for Mama but—”
“For you.” Sergei’s eyes filled with true empathy, with understanding.
“Yes.” I approached my grandmother, taking her hands in mine; they were cold, skeletal. “Please, Babushka, let me do this. If not for our tearoom and Mama…for me.”
Baba Valya was silent. Finally, she said, “I won’t be able to dissuade you, will I?”
I shook my head, smiling a little. “I am sorry, but no.”
She blew out a breath; it rasped on her exhale. “All right, Zina.”
I launched myself at her, holding her tight.
Though she had risen from her bed that morning, seeming better, she was still not eating much, still feeling too warm, still coughing until she couldn’t breathe.
I had started to see flecks of blood in her mucus and feel even more of her bones than before.
Worst of all, her lilac energy was almost completely faded, chillingly reminding me of that non-smell, of death.
“Thank you,” I whispered, giving her one final squeeze before straightening and glancing back at Sergei. “Well?” I prompted him.
He gave me a nod, more eager, it seemed, his energy again more whitish than gray. “The expulsion itself is simple. We make a potion, we say some words, and we pour the potion into the ground.”
I stared at him. “That’s it?”
“Even I could do that,” Katya tsked.
“It is deceptively simple,” Sergei amended.
“What is the potion, the words? Where do we pour it?”
“On, or near, the spot where the dark spirit has made its resting place. Do you know where that could be?”
I had an image of the Grand Duke, standing in our garden, on…Mama’s grave. Like a vampire, the undead, guarding his victim, his prisoner. A tremor went through me. I fervently prayed Mama was all right. “I think I do.”
“Then I will help with the potion and the words when it is time,” Sergei said, letting me know he would be there.
“Thank you, monsieur. But,” I faltered, the reality of what we were about to do crashing into me, “what if my affinity, all my preparation, isn’t enough?” Panic was quickening my breathing, spiking my pulse.
Sergei gave one of his elegant shrugs. “It has never been enough for me.”
“But there has to be something else we can do.” Something that could add power.
I thought back to my séances, the one with the 40 rue de Paradis group and the one with the rue Daru ladies being the most powerful.
In both, I had felt a strong energy, a focus and a will, from the sitters, whether experienced in the supernatural or not.
Both had pushed me deeper into myself and the beyond.
The more sitters, the more energy created by the collective, said my grandfather’s book.
“We need sitters for the expulsion,” I said suddenly.
“Since it will involve a séance to summon the Grand Duke and keep him in the in-between, as well as a potion, it will need greater than normal amounts of power. With other people, other sitters, we may tap into a collective energy…which might be enough for this to succeed.”
Sergei watched me thoughtfully. “I have tried, Zina. It made no difference for me. But perhaps it depends on the sitters—and on the medium.”
“I propose we invite our clients to the expulsion—the ladies of rue Daru.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” Katya enthused. “The ladies from the séance the night before! They would do anything to help Valentina, after all she has done for them.”
“Absolutely not.” Baba Valya shook her head, my stubborn old bird.
I crossed my arms, challenging her. “And why not?”
“I won’t have my clients seeing me…like this.”
I was unbearably, horribly sad for my grandmother, but I was also irrationally angry at her.
I had held the séance the night before by myself, was sure I could do all this without Baba Valya if I had to, but I wanted—needed—her at the expulsion.
It might be my séance, my affinity, but it was our tearoom, our battle, our war to win.
Together. Only together. “You won’t help with the expulsion, then? You won’t come at all?”
She was quiet for a moment, grumbling, simmering. “Oh, what do you need an old lady for anyway, one who doesn’t know the first thing about a real séance?”
“I need you,” I said firmly, forcing her to meet my gaze.
“You are as stubborn as your mother,” Baba Valya returned, but I could tell she was relenting. “Fine. Oh, fine. But if they think me old, ill, worthless, it will be all your fault.”
“They won’t, and you are stubborn, too. Likely more so.” I gave her a fond, grateful smile before delivering what I knew would be a blow to her. “I also think we should invite the rest of Mama’s friends.”
“They are eager to help.” Sergei gave me a ready nod. “Leave it to me.”
“Do you wish to kill me earlier than my time?” Baba Valya burst out.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Baba Valya. But come, you must admit, it would be helpful if some of our sitters were skilled in the supernatural and knew Mama intimately.”
“And wouldn’t their experience with the supernatural strengthen our collective energy?” Katya pointed out.
Baba Valya was silent for a time, moodily averting her gaze; she knew we were right.
“Fine, Zinaida,” she said at length. “We will do it your way. But know I won’t say a word to those people.
Not a word.” She shot Sergei what I thought was meant to be a scathing look, but it came out too soft, maybe even a little fond.
I laughed, relieved. “All right, Baba Valya. I won’t force you. You may sit there, not saying anything, quiet as the dead.”
This silenced everyone, each of us thinking, I was quite sure, that she might really die. And before we even had a chance to attempt the expulsion.