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The food does look good, but I’m not going to risk contaminating myself, no matter how hungry I am. If they want me incapacitated, they’ll have to fight me.
“Oh, just eat. It’s not poisoned,” Dawn continues. “The whole spread is courtesy of Dad and Comet International, so only the best.”
“Dawn,” the man next to her grumbles in warning.
“Oh, yes. Sorry. Forget what I said. Dad is an unknown benefactor and I’m in hiding. For my safety, right, Dad?” Dawn smiles like a child at him.
Comet International. The company that tried to take over the Arcana hospital. I narrow my eyes. Dawn’s dad seems like a bigshot. Why is he associating with someone like Koschei? And why isn’t he reprimanding her for being so obnoxious?
“We’re leaving.” He stands up abruptly, pulling Dawn to stand with him.
“But I haven’t finished yet,” she whines.
“Grab some food with you.” His voice is calm and devoid of any menace.
After they leave, the silence folds between us like a big cat about to attack. The clink of Jenya’s spoon as she eats her cereal is the only sound. I keep throwing little pieces of pastry around my plate.
“You’ve been away for too long, Tatiana. We have a lot to catch up on,” Koschei says. I keep quiet. “We will do your immortality ritual tonight.”
“What?” Both I and Jenya exclaim, though I imagine for very different reasons.
“You said it would be my turn first,” Jenya says, shooting me an apologetic look. “Or we can do it together?”
“If you think I’m getting anywhere near your disgusting dick, you’re dead wrong.” I spit the words like poison, leaning on the table and aggressively destroying the pastry in my hands to drive my point home.
“Why are you so crude, child? Immortality is achieved through our progeny, and the ritual is the first step to that.” Koschei smiles, the crow’s-feet around his eyes crinkling, making him look creepy. A little bit of my fear returns. Why is he so calm? Why isn’t he losing his shit over how rude I am?
“You’re not supposed to make children with your own blood relatives!” I hiss, but the feeling of my heart trying to push through my chest is stronger than my conviction.
“Why not? Because people on the outside told you so?” He chuckles, a sound that for me is a harbinger of pain.
Judging by how Jenya recoils, it’s the same for her.
“I will sooner die than sleep with you,” I say in a weak voice.
“You know our people don’t die.” He stands up and walks toward me.
I stiffen in my chair, glancing at the door—my only possible way out. The two men who walked me and Jenya from our cells enter the room, somehow making the space feel crowded. Like silent executioners, their stares are blank. Although I spoke big words about dying, I didn’t really mean it.
Koschei wanting to have sex with me is probably my best chance to get close to him. He’ll be alone and defenseless. I shouldn’t be opposing him, but I’m spending my time in paralysis between bone-chilling fear and blood-boiling rage. The person who was calm and calculating when this bare-bones assassination plan was being made seems to exist only outside of Koschei’s proximity.
“Our people go to Nav after they fulfill their immortality duties,” he continues. He’s close enough that I can smell the air around him. He smells like coffee and old people, a disturbing combination that my mind struggles to process. “Like your mother and your aunts. Like the half-sisters you betrayed. Like you and Jenya will.”
He puts a hand on my shoulder, then on Jenya’s, pushing us down in our seats like our own abominable gravity force.
I have lost the ability to speak, but my mind is still my own. The terror of seeing him has waned a little now, and I can almost tolerate his touch. It feels like little ants are running under his palm and up and down my arm and neck, but I can stand it. I can survive this.
“You two,” he says to the men who stand like guards. “My Malaya Zhritsa isn’t eating enough.”
I turn around to face him. Big mistake. My eyes widen as they meet his icy blues, a mirror of mine and Jenya’s. Memories crash into me like a tidal wave, cold and unforgiving, drenching my soul in horror.
One of the guards grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my head back, his hand gripping my free shoulder painfully. Koschei still holds the other one.
The second man pinches my nose. My arms shoot up, trying to grapple with all three of them, but it’s useless. I’m overpowered and a pastry is shoved into my open mouth, just as I’m gasping for air.
It gets lodged somewhere in the middle of my throat and I cough, fighting for my life. Indignant tears wet my cheeks. One single, terrifying thought loops in my brain as I spit and choke and fight.
You’re back.
