Chapter Nineteen
Graham
I fucking hate this house.
I hate the smell of the incense in every hall. I hate the way my sneakers squeak against the marble floors. I hate the way every hall appears to have a dead-end. No options. No escapes.
You’d think after twelve years I’d be used to it, that I could leave my room without checking both ways, that loud noises would no longer make me flinch.
The truth is that I have gotten used to it, those are actually just my good instincts at work.
I’ve learned quite well how to go about my life unheard.
I know the right times to be seen, and I know the right times to disappear.
I’m a phantom in these halls, a wraith. The Domovoy, I’ve taken to calling myself after grandfather’s guards started to curse whatever entity was stealing their cigarettes and spare change.
The maid, on the other hand, coos the name into the shadows when she leaves me snacks for the night.
“Growing boys need to eat,” she always says.
I very much agree.
Kira loves me- she’s the only one in this house who does- even though I force her to lie to the guards on a regular basis.
But she doesn’t like them, says they’re brutes, garbage men, and screams at them when they track footprints into her kitchen.
The way she screams at them- her bright eyes gleaming and her ebony cheeks reddening- as she wags a finger in their stupid faces is one of the best shows I ever get to witness since I’m not actually allowed to use the TV or go to the theatre like Sonya.
All the entertainment available to me is within this house, which more often than not leads to trouble—
“Got you, you little shit!”
Suddenly, I’m being hoisted almost off my feet by the hood of my sweatshirt, forced to look into the eyes of the estate’s head of security.
“Hey,” I draw out the word, forcing a grin when honestly, I might shit myself any second just from having to look at his face.
He’s pale, about three hundred pounds of height and muscle, with a long, ugly scar bisecting his left eye- which is obviously blind- and his other pale blue eye, I am convinced, can see straight into my fucking soul. “Nice to see as always, Andrei—”
“Shut up,” he growls, holding out a hand. “Give it up.”
“I have no idea what you’re talk- Oof!”
I groan, clutching at my stomach where his fist slammed into it, trying not to puke all over his shoes. He did not appreciate that last time.
He drags me close enough that spit hits my cheeks when he talks. “Don’t lie to me, Domovoy,” he snarls. “Give it here or I’ll drag you straight to your grandfather the moment he rises—”
“Okay, okay!” I reach into the pocket of my hoodie, holding out the switchblade he’d left lying around in the conservatory for anyone to find. “I wasn’t going to do anything with it, I swear—”
He lets me go, and I stumble back against the wall. “Of course you weren’t, Domovoy,” he snorts.
Flicking open the blade he brings it so close to my eye I can see only the pin point of the tip. A bead of sweat slides down my temple, my lungs burning as I hold my breath willing my body to stay perfectly. Fucking. Still.
“What would a little bitch like you do with a knife like this, huh? Use it to help Kira cut up your little fruits and vegetables?”
My eyes narrow but I still don’t dare move or make any sort of sound of protest since I do prefer my eyes in my face where they belong. Just as quickly as he cornered me, Andrei pulls the blade away, pocketing it.
He waves a hand down the hall. “Get out of my sight, Domovoy, before I decide to put your skills to better use.”
I flee his line of sight, nearly tripping around the corner. Hs deep, mocking laughter follows me all the way to the second-floor landing where I pause to catch my breath. Leaning my arms on the banister, I press my face against them forcing air in through my nose, out through my mouth.
“Fucking stupid ass son of a fucking whore—”
“You’re doing it again.”
“Jesus Christ,” I gasp, shooting up to standing. “Sonya. I didn’t know you were up.”
Not in, like, a creepy way- my sister might actually be the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.
After our mom, of course, but she looks just like her so that’s probably why.
Her golden hair hangs down her back in perfectly controlled waves, her alabaster skin smooth as glass.
She’s watching me with impassive, blue eyes, her arms crossed over what appears to be a new lavender dress- high, lace neck, twirlable skirts.
By comparison, I look like I slept in the dumpster in tattered jeans, a worn old hoodie, and a pair of sneakers one size too small.
“What sort of trouble did you cause this time?”
Frowning, I shrug, crossing my arms to mirror her posture. “I was minding my own business. Andrei just likes to pick on me.”
Sonya raises a brow, looking me over from head to toe slowly enough to make me squirm. Then she rolls her eyes, walking past me toward the stairs. “You should go change. Grandfather will be ready to go soon, and he’ll be angry if you make him wait again.”
My brow furrows. “Wait for what?” I’m never invited to go anywhere.
She pauses on the stairs, rolling her pretty blue eyes. “Mass?”
Except church. I drop my head back on a groan. I’m always expected at church. It’s one of the only two consolations Grandfather ever makes to my leaving the property. Something about needing to save what remains of my soul?
After what happened with my car last summer, Grandfather shortened the stretch of my leash to only the end of the driveway unless he says otherwise.
“I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
Across the hall I hear a bedroom door open, my heart rate spiking when it’s followed by a gruff voice calling, “Kira, have my coffee made to go!”
“Better make it five,” Sonya warns me just before I dash down the hall toward the dusty tower stairs tucked behind the furthest door.
It… Is a really shitty room, but it’s mine and no one ever comes up here except Kira, who brings me soup when I’m sick and makes sure my mini fridge is fully stocked with all my favorite sodas.
The entire room is circular- because tower- with two windows high enough that I couldn’t see out as a kid- or be spotted by passersby- but can clearly see out of now as I hurriedly change.
My church suit is the nicest and newest thing I own.
It’s the only item grandfather insists must always appear fresh and well made for me since Sunday is the only day I’m ever seen with him.
Quicker than I’ve ever moved in my life, I change my pants, button up my shirt, find my belt buried in my dresser, and am pulling on my shoes as I tumble back down the stairs. I’m still adjusting my jacket when I slide into the town car across from Grandfather and Sonya. And right next to Andrei.
Wonderful. He smells like vodka and bratwurst.
“Where,” Grandfather growls as the car starts to pull away from the house. “Is your goddamn tie, boy?”
All the blood drains from my face when I pat down the front of my shirt and find… Nothing. Fuck. I forgot the fucking tie. Last time it had been my belt, so I made sure I put it on today. But fuck I forgot the fucking tie.
“Well?” He demands, his mouth pulling down in a scowl beneath his white beard.
Swallowing, I try to stammer out an excuse that will save my ass when Sonya whispers, “Oh.” She reaches into her Chanel, pulling out a purple tie, almost the same color as her dress.
“I forgot to give this to you the other day. I picked it up from the shops.” She gives Grandfather a demure smile.
“I thought it would be nice if we matched.”
She turns back to me, handing over the tie. The look in her pretty blue eyes is sharp. “I had his old ones sent to the cleaners. You know how he treats his things.”
She didn’t, I know exactly where they are and Kira makes sure they’re pristine. But I’m not about to fuck up her rescue. “Thank you, Sonya.” I put on the tie, careful not to elbow Andrei. “I like this color.”
“Yes, a lovely choice, my darling.” Grandfather kisses Sonya’s cheek. “You always have the most wonderful taste.” To me he snaps. “Straighten your collar, boy.”
I do straighten my collar, and when the car pulls up to the church, I wait for Andrei to help Grandfather out before whispering to Sonya, “Thank you.”
“You’re seventeen,” she whispers back harshly. “Get your shit together. I won’t be around to save you forever.”
Andrei helps her out of the car next, and I climb out behind her, making sure my suit is straight and my hair is… Well, in some manner of assembled. It’s getting too long, curling at the ends, but Kira hasn’t had time to cut it recently.
The cathedral stands out amongst the shining glass architecture of Midtown, it’s gothic design making it at once beautiful and frightening.
I used to fear coming to church because of the looming darkness of its various arches and crevices.
Now, as we walk in together as a united front- a family so to speak- I can allow myself to appreciate the skill that went into carving the pillars, welding the stained glass, and gilding the cavernous ceiling.
The choir is already singing, angelic voices echoing off the stone rafters.
When I was kid, I used to imagine that one day we would walk into this holy place and my Grandfather and Andrei- and all the other members of security that fan out amongst the congregation- would burst into flames.
That’s what they always said would happen to the demons of hell who entered the holy house of God.
The infernal would be cast out in fire. But, of course, that never happened.
Because they’re not technically demons and even more technically, God isn’t real.
I’ve prayed enough over the years to know there’s no divine intervention coming my way.