Belmary House Book Three (15 page)

They grumbled amongst themselves, his great-uncle flipping through the book again. They seemed to be looking for the answer to his question, and didn’t like that they couldn’t find it. Feeling as reckless as he used to when he was a child, only wanting to run far and fast in the woods, he stood up.

“I’ll be going until you actually know why I’m meant to be before you.”

He took a tentative step toward the council room door, glowing candles on either side of it in tall, twisted metal holders. They flickered and he expected to be blasted back into his chair, but they continued muttering to themselves, almost as if he was already gone. He stopped with his hand on the door handle, idiotically giving them a last chance to do their worst.

“Just be available when we call you back, Kostya,” the sick one said.

They all chuckled at that, as if he’d have any choice when they summoned him, but nothing happened when he stepped out the door. Fear rippled through him all the way back to his house, where Sorin waited for him.

“What happened? That was too fast.”

Kostya nodded, worn out from worrying about what might happen to him. He poured himself a cup of water and drank it down before explaining what had happened.

“Are they finally getting old and tired?” Sorin wondered. He wrinkled up his brow in deep concentration. “I can’t think how old some of them might be, and fortunately I haven’t been called up in years so I haven’t had to see them up close.”

“There’s only five now, and one is visibly sick. Couple that with Grandmother— she wasn’t even there just now.”

“She’s afraid to face you,” Sorin said, clapping his hands.

Kostya shook his head, not wanting to admit he’d thought the same thing. “It’s too easy. I come back and all of a sudden, they’re rolling over and playing dead?”

“I told you,” Sorin said, eyes shining with admiration, the same look of having seen a unicorn that the villagers got when they saw him. “They can’t let you leave. Since you came back, the crops have flourished, and two wells that had gone dry are running again. They can’t let you leave because they’re clearly already drawing from you, but they can’t seem to make you suffer either. It must really rankle Grandmother.” He rubbed his hands together in a satisfied manner.

Kostya felt sick that they might be using him for their own benefit, but he knew that was why he’d been called back. If they could punish him for Camilla, that would be a bonus to them, and he felt the same acidic sense of satisfaction that Sorin displayed that they couldn’t.

Someone knocked before opening the door, and Seraphim poked her head around it, followed by her brother Daniel and their parents. Felix and Tatiana were close behind them, carrying a basket full of fruit and bread and a bottle of wine.

“The council’s already done with you?” Daniel asked, studying him. “Did it get canceled? You don’t look like someone who’s been to see them.” His boyish awe always made Kostya feel uncomfortable. He would have been a terrible father to a boy, never sure he could live up to the hero worship.

“He’s seen the council and lived to tell the tale,” Sorin said, already pouring the wine. “My friends, I do believe the time is nigh to strike.”

Everyone gasped and gathered around, and Kostya gave Sorin a warning look to settle down. He told them how he’d stood up to the council, trying not make himself seem bigger than life, but indeed, no one had ever done such a thing and lived to talk about it.

“Remember when Luce refused his punishment? What was that, eighteen or so years ago, Tatiana?” Felix asked.

She nodded. “He didn’t refuse,” she corrected. “He wanted hard labor instead of having to marry off his daughter to that English coven.” She paused to meet everyone’s eye, though it was clear that the adults all remembered what had happened. The children and Kostya waited silently until she shook her head sadly. “He lost all ability to use his arms or legs, was confined to a chair until he died a year later, covered in sores. His daughter had to go to England with no visiting privileges, and the rest of his family got the hard labor.”

“That’s right, I still see young Bonnie on her way to the fields each morning,” Irina said. “She’s the only one of them that’s left, poor thing.”

“And you walked out with nary a scratch?” Daniel asked. “You were right, Sorin. It is fated that he should return to help us.”

Kostya doubled down on his warning look to Sorin, who shrugged. His sense of showmanship to keep their morale up had to stop. Even a tired, aging council and a sickly grandmother needed to be properly feared and respected or they were going to do something rash and ruin everything.

Tatiana plied him with apple slices and bread that was fresh from the oven and he took it gratefully. Once again Daniel refused his share, making sure his sister got enough. When Kostya had asked why Sorin allowed the children to be a part of their mad schemes, he assured them that Seraphim was as strong as anyone. She showed great promise, and her parents wanted her to be able to use her powers as she chose, not be sold off to another coven in marriage, or kept around to be slowly drained of all hope. Daniel was there because at fourteen, he considered himself a man, but would have pitched a fit worthy of any child if he was excluded.

They were all there because they wanted a better future for themselves and their children. In the case of Tatiana and Felix, they refused to have any unless things changed, having seen too many times what happened to each fresh generation. If the youngsters didn’t disappear for his grandmother and the council’s renewal spells, they ended up in loveless marriages or working like dogs with no rewards. Or worst of all, used for punishments when their parents supposedly did something wrong.

Everyone wanted action, right away, at once, but no one could think of a firm plan. When Kostya asked what they thought they might do before he returned, they grew silent. It seemed everything hinged on him, and like the others, he was at a loss.

“Let’s wait and see what happens when they call me back in,” he suggested, their expectant looks weighing heavily on him.

As much as he wanted to help these people, his people, his curse being lifted was his main priority. He’d been afraid to bring it up each time, waiting for the council or his grandmother to say something first. He was hoping he’d be offered a way out of it. Once Serena and the baby were safe, he could better concentrate on this war his cousin was determined to have.

“He’s quite right,” Gustin said. “There’s no need to be hasty. We have better rations now, and the weather’s been nicer these past days too. Not nearly so rainy.”

“We shouldn’t become complacent either, because our bellies are a bit fuller,” Tatiana snapped.

“That’s not what Gustin was saying.” Irina jumped to defend her husband. “If Kostya says to wait and observe, that’s what we’ll do.”

“Just a bit longer,” he assured them as Tatiana rolled her eyes. “We know this isn’t the end of it with the council. Let’s see what they want of me first, at any rate. Once they assign me my punishment, I’ll be off their agenda and we can move about more freely, without their eyes on us.”

Daniel exhaled loudly. “Do you hear him speak of his punishment as if it was going to the pub for Sunday stew? How can you be so brave?”

Kostya reached to ruffle his hair, realizing the boy was too old for it and stopping halfway. How could he explain to him that physical pain, even a great deal of it, was nothing compared to what he’d already been through because of them. If his curse wasn’t lifted he’d once again lose all he loved.

He hoped Daniel would never know that kind of bravery.

***

Another week went by without the council calling for another audience with him, and every day that passed made their little group happier and more eager to take action. It made him more willing to believe his grandmother was satisfied enough that he was back, and was going to leave him alone. The last two mornings he’d even awakened without a sense of dread.

It seemed like no one was being punished since Kostya was back, there was more food, the weather was mild— people bowed to him now instead of gawking and quickly glancing away, shook his hand and offered him small portions of whatever they happened to be carrying at the time.

Kostya brought one such offering to Sorin’s hut and laid out the bottle of ale and leaky cheese on the table while he waited for Sorin to get ready for the village’s monthly gathering. He was personally excited to listen to some music, and excited for Sorin, who planned to tell Natalia how he felt about her and see if she might accept him one day.

The monthly gathering in the square outside the pub was the one evening the villagers could dance and sing and drink their cares away. His grandmother rarely interfered with them, knowing even in her blackest of hearts that people needed escape every once in awhile. Tomorrow it would be back to work and back to worries, but tonight would be as close to happiness as the villagers ever got.

“These gatherings are my only good memories of this place,” he said, spreading some of the cheese on a stale wedge of bread.

“The only ones?” Sorin asked with a frown.

As soon as he said it, Kostya knew it wasn’t true. His life had been plagued by a curse since the day he was born, but he still remembered tearing through the woods, splashing in the river, hiding from Irina, Sorin always at his side.

“I misremembered,” he said. “Not the only ones.”

He had to admit the new memories he was making while being here were ones he would cherish if he went back to Scotland. He caught himself and changed his thoughts. When he went back. Of course he wasn’t here for good. He had to return to Serena.

Every day that went by without incident made it easier to forget his other life. His real life. Or was this his real life and Scotland had been a pleasant detour? And had his life in Scotland been that wonderful? Wasn’t he forgetting a great many things about it?

Sorin thumped him in the head, bringing him back from his fogged mental wanderings. That had been happening to him a lot lately. Confusion, and wondering if certain things were true or not. It used to be easier to separate reality from magic, but lately he wasn’t sure.

“I’m almost ready,” Sorin said, looking concerned. “Can you please wrap up that cheese, it’s staining the table.”

Kostya did as he was told, eager to get to the square. Sorin was taking his time getting ready, combing his hair and straightening his waistcoat, then combing his hair again. He was so used to his bad arm, which he always kept hung in a sling, that he could get ready as quickly as anyone on a normal day, but today he kept fidgeting and peering into the darkened looking glass.

“If she rejects you, it won’t be because of your looks,” Kostya said, meaning it as a compliment.

Sorin paled. “Do you think she’ll reject me?” He shrugged his shoulder, making his lifeless hand bounce in the sling. “I’m not much of a catch, I suppose.”

“We’ll get you back the use of your hand, and you’re as much of a catch as anyone in this place. Now, can we please—”

A shrill scream of terror cut him off, followed by a keening wail. The shrieks from outside grew louder, as more people joined in. Sorin stood frozen, and Kostya wondered if something had been done to him, but as soon as he made his way toward the door to see what had happened, Sorin raced past him.

All hell had broken loose. They stood outside in the dusty patch of garden, unable to comprehend everything at once. Women were screaming and running toward their homes, while men stood sobbing in the road, afraid to face what waited for them. Sorin reached out and grabbed the arm of a young lady as she bolted by, jerking her backwards. She scratched his cheek and tried to twist away, but he held tight, only wanting answers.

“It’s a purge,” she cried.

Sorin dropped her arm and she took off to find out if her family had been affected. Kostya looked across the lane to see an old woman kneeling over someone, his limbs sprawled unnaturally as she tried to shake him awake. The screams were deafening, and the village dogs had begun to howl.

“Natalia,” Sorin gasped, sprinting in the direction of her cottage.

Kostya thought of Irina and her family and ran that way. Everywhere he looked, there was shocked grief and death. How many was his grandmother going to take in this one? He’d lived through this once before, it was how he lost his mother, and how Sorin lost his fraternal grandparents. There was no rhyme or reason for who she claimed.

He reached their household to see the door hanging open, heartbroken sobs emanating from within. Everything around him seemed to fade into the background. Someone jostled him on her way past, but he hardly felt it. Dogs barked madly several feet from him, but it was as if they were miles away. All he could hear was the crying from inside Irina’s house. His childhood friend, whom he’d always left behind. He begged whoever might still listen to him for it not to be one of the children, and walked inside the house.

Irina knelt over the still form of her son, little Seraphim wailing at his feet. Gustin sat in the corner with his head in his hands, his best jacket straining at the shoulders as they were wracked with sobs. They were all dressed in their finest, preparing as he and Sorin had been for the gathering.

Daniel would never go to another one. Every gathering for the rest of her life, his sister would be reminded of the day he died, the only bright spot in their existence tainted with grief. Kostya knew from experience that Irina and Gustin would never be the same. The lad had been brave and generous, older than his fourteen years. He’d only wanted a chance to fight for what he believed was right, and the sight of him, looking smaller and younger as he lay lifeless on the floor, made Kostya’s insides roil with grief and helplessness.