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But we didn’t pray together, which is a big part of the bedtime ritual. Maybe locking in against the darkness isn’t customary here either.
Barefoot, I step in front of the purple door and press the handle. The door opens smoothly, sound bleeding in from the floors below. I close it, drowning the room in silence. Then open it again, astounded at the difference in noise. Whatever magic protection this room has from the racket below, I’m about to abandon it.
I need to get Ben’s clothes clean before he comes back. He was good to me, but only because I haven’t done anything to upset him yet.
I retrace our steps, down the corridor, down the stairs, down another corridor. Down, down, down. My path gets progressively darker and I falter a couple of times. I’m going against an order, right to the heart of a place covered in thick blackness.
I press on anyway. The darkness here is different than in the village. It hasn’t attacked me yet, I repeat to myself as I move forward. My eyes adjust and I can finally make out the rough outlines of the sink.
Fumbling, I feel water on my fingertips. It’s cold, nipping at my hand like the sting of a ruler. I run my hand across the shirt, trying to feel where the stains are so I can wash them.
Struggling, I bring the edge of the garment to the sink and wet it generously, hoping that will be enough. The cold seeps through the air between the shirt and my bare stomach and I shiver, an ominous feeling burying its claws into my chest.
The room bursts into bright light suddenly, startling me. I whirl around, splashing water all over the floor.
A pathetic gasp that should have stayed in my throat escapes me as I come face to face with the bare chest of a man and a massive black owl inked on it.
Chapter 16
I’m like a worker-automaton as I go around tables, welcoming guests and sorting out small, insignificant issues. I give away keys to private rooms and smile at everyone who passes me as if I have to compensate for the vitriol with which I treated Jenya.
Interacting with her is like having a thorny collar tightening around my neck. I regret every word I speak to her, yet there’s no outward warmth that I can muster toward her. I hate everything she reminds me of and I want her out of my hair.
My phone buzzes in the pocket of my bra. It’s Ben. I take a steadying breath and head for the staff area. The fact that he up and left after a teenager dismissed him, eroded any budding seeds of forgiveness in my heart. Bailing is his M.O. at this point.
By the time I make it down and plop on one of the chairs, he’s given up. I’m not going to let him off, though, so I dial his number. I kick off my heels and slide my hand over my stockings, considering removing my thigh-highs and going bare-legged for the rest of the night. The glossy black stockings are pretty, but they feel restraining tonight and I’m not into that.
“Hi. Can you talk?” Ben’s voice is breathless, as if he’s been rushing somewhere.
“You better be running back to pick up the random teenager you dropped off,” I say, unable to check the bite in my tone.
He’s silent for a moment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what?”
“About your involvement with the cult behind Red Rad Ron orphanage. It was really insensitive of me to push Jenya onto you. I’m so sorry.” There’s genuine anguish in his words, and my heart falters for a moment. I wasn’t expecting him to say this. Did he find out from his Empress? Or from Damien? Or…
“Did you catch Koschei?” I blurt out.
“What? Is he alive?”
“Jenya swears he ditched her and escaped on his own. If the orphanage has connections with Comet International, I bet he’s crawled back to them.”
“Shit. I have to tell the Empress.”
“Don’t underestimate him. He’s old, but he’s like a cockroach. He just refuses to die.” I sigh and find my fingers grazing the scarred flesh on the inside of my thigh. I glance down at the firebird tattoo, hiding with dark ink the swirls that were branded there when I was a child. Feeling the ridges of the scars still sends a shiver up my spine.
“Can you look after Jenya until the morning? I will take her to the embassy after our contact gets to work at nine a.m., and you don’t have to see her again. I hope she hasn’t made things too difficult for you. I’m sorry again, truly.”
His adamant apologizing makes me uncomfortable. I press my lips into a thin line, racking my brain for something I can say that will change the subject. I think I need a hug, but no way in hell would I say that, and to Ben of all people. The memory of our small tumble at the docks yesterday makes pleasant heat spread at the bottom of my belly. It’s a much more pleasant thing to think about than Jenya and the twisted memories of my past.
Before I can say anything, however, my phone beeps with another incoming call.
“Someone’s on the other line,” I say and, without waiting for Ben’s reply, pick up the other call. It’s Mathias.
“Can you come to the ground floor washroom, like, immediately?”
“There is no need. I will go back to my room,” I hear in the background of the call.
