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Slipping out of my sparkly dress, I peer down between my legs, examining the firebird tattoo. I had it done after a conversation with Ben about the differences between firebirds and phoenixes.
In the fairy tales in the cult, and as I realized later, in Russian folklore overall, firebirds are mystical beasts of great value. They’re magic and even possessing one feather is an immense treasure. Most often they’re trapped and made to suffer as their tears turn to pearls. They spend their days in golden cages, heroes fighting over them.
Having lived my life, it was easy to identify with firebirds. But when Ben told me that the phoenix is basically a firebird with more rights and that doesn’t die, something within me shifted.
Both are me—I’m forever caged and always surviving. So, I will use my powers to end Koschei’s immortality.
At 4:00 a.m., I get up and put on my hoodie and leggings. I make sure the laces of my black comfortable trainers are tied properly, and that my hair is pinned away from my face.
Then I sneak into the Love and Err office, going straight for Sophie’s stash of weapons and lock picks. I’m sure she thinks I don’t know where it is, but I saw her adjust one of the prints on the wall and after that, it was easy detective work. I take a small lock pick kit and a tiny pocket knife from the little nook in the wall behind the print of a cat that says ‘Stay PAWsitive.’ I shove them in my bra under my boobs, hoping that if I get frisked or manhandled, they will stay hidden.
As usual, the execution of my plan will be ten percent preparation and ninety percent improvisation. Imagining every single variable is not my strong suit, so I simply don’t do it. I throw myself into the situation, and my survival instincts kick in, making sure all goes smoothly. It worked out for when I escaped the first fire, then my long game around liberating Lavender, getting rid of Valerie, and most recently, saving Yeira from The Jesters and capturing their corrupt lawyer Kurtis Jericho. With such a track record of successful reckless solo missions, my confidence in my decision to off Koschei by myself grows, spreading like warm honey in my chest.
This is how I keep the darkness at bay—by feeding it what I choose so it doesn’t target the people I care about.
It’s still dark outside as I slip through the fire exit and go toward the silver car parked in the side street. They must have changed shifts at some point.
I knock on the black window, my heart picking up pace.
I’m really doing this.
I’m going to face and destroy Koschei. I’m aware it’s easier to gather courage when he isn’t in the vicinity, and I hope against all hope that I won’t chicken out when he stands in front of me. I’m still embarrassed about the way I acted when I caught a glimpse of him last time. The fear inside me was primal and instant, and it made me run like a scared child.
I’ve been processing this ridiculous reaction for the past week. He’s just an old man, and I’m not a child. If he wants to hit me, I can hit him back. If he tries something more vile, I will respond in kind. I don’t need anyone’s permission to be angry and violent. In front of him, I can simply be myself—broken, imperfect, and full of rage.
After a few moments pass and I get no response, I knock again, louder this time. Did I misjudge the car? Is it truly for protection and not Koschei’s men? Or is it a set of random vehicles that I’ve given too much meaning to?
A man in a ski mask comes out of the passenger seat and I know instantly my doubts were pointless. I’ve been part of organized crime since I left the cult. I wouldn’t mistake nothing for something.
The man stomps around the car, looking menacing. Heavy-footed, he tries to grab me. A black sack like the one they used on us before in his left hand.
I duck, barely dodging his attack.
“I will go with you,” I say. “Don’t hit me.”
I caught him off guard because his steps stutter and he freezes in place with his arm extended. Then he nods to himself and throws the sack to me.
“Put this on,” he grumbles. “And hand me your phone.”
This is it then. I’m going to face my biggest nightmare.
I open the back door of the car and slip the black fabric over my head as I sit down. I give my phone away and hear it clatter to the ground before the door is closed shut. The smell of lemon air freshener fills my nostrils and I try to latch onto that bit of normality to ease my rapid breaths.
My choice. My fight.
And if this is to be my death, it will be my way.
Chapter 34
Life is normal. My time in the outside world feels like a dream. And I like that because ever since we moved into this new building, I’ve been unable to sleep, and hence unable to visit any of my favorite dreamscapes.
The silence and the darkness in my small, cold room are the hardest things to ignore. I’m on edge, anticipating an attack from any direction. I miss taking care of the children and filling in the Holy Books with their details. There was a purpose to my existence before, and now Koschei assures me we will rebuild but never gives me anything to do.
The sounds of heavy steps echo in the corridor outside my door and I sit up in my bed, priming my ears.
“I said there’s no need to be so rough,” a female voice says.
“Shut it,” a male growls in response.
