by Joy Preble
“I wasn’t sure at first. I’d driven home and parked in the driveway, and I was thinking that maybe I needed a Coke or something. You know Chinese food—you’re always dying of thirst for like hours. Not to mention that I practically destroyed my throat screaming while we were hurtling through time. So I’m about to go in the house, but I can’t find my key and my parents are still in Napa checking out this winery they’ve decided to invest in because they think it will ‘bring them closer together.’ God knows where Zach is.”
“Tess. Get to the point.” Anne puts her hand on her friend’s shoulder.
“I’m getting there. I think the details are important. What I’m telling you is that I wasn’t paying attention. But I felt it anyway. This weird goose-bumpy feeling crawled up my arms and neck. Like someone was watching me. But when I looked around—nothing. So I went inside. And that’s when I called Ben.”
Ben takes over the story from there. Explains how Tess seemed spooked so he offered to take her for coffee. Dropped her off back home about 11:30. Even came in and checked the house with her. Nothing. Zach had called and was on his way home. So Ben left. And felt the same weird “something” when he went back to his car. Felt it again when he got home. But like Tess, he didn’t see anything.
The only thing out of the ordinary was that the door to his house was unlocked, which struck him as strange since his parents are meticulous types. But their car was in the garage and his father was in the den watching television. Nothing amiss as far as Ben could tell. Just a door that someone forgot to lock.
“Here’s the thing,” Ben says. The waitress has brought more coffee and two extra mugs, and Ben takes a long sip. “It’s taken me a long time to come to grips with all this. And”—he turns to me—“don’t think that it makes me your buddy. I still think you’re dangerous. I think Anne needs to run from you like she’d run from a virus. But she won’t. And I can’t force her. I’m her friend, not a cop.
“Like I’ve told Tess, I tried and tried to convince myself that none of that shit really happened. But I couldn’t. It’s like falling down the rabbit hole. Once you see this whole other world, you can’t go back. So the way I figure, I’m stuck with you. You’re a damn douche, but I can’t just pretend you’re going to disappear out of her life. Or that witches and mermaids and guys who rise from the damn dead don’t exist.”
“Your point?” I hold his gaze and wait for the punch line.
“I’m not going anywhere. If you need someone else to battle whatever this is, I’m your guy. I don’t think you have a chance in hell of being able to protect these two on your own. Even if Anne has, well, powers. You do, right? God, this whole thing freaks me the hell out. But I watched you, Anne. I saw you put your hand on his heart and make a bullet come out of his chest. You were dead, dude. And she brought you back to life. I have to believe it because that’s what I saw.
“And the other guy, Viktor, right? I watched him get shot and rise from the dead all on his own. He was a skeleton when he came out that chicken-leg cabin. Then boom, he’s younger. So if Tess says that’s who she saw when she looked out her window, then I believe her. Which means I’m stuck. I can’t just go home and pretend this isn’t real.”
“I did see Viktor,” Tess adds. “He was standing under our spruce tree. You know those wards or whatever you placed around my house? I think they were the only thing keeping him out. But I looked at him from behind my curtain and I just knew that if he wanted to, he could break through. It would be like snapping a twig or something. Then I heard Ben’s car in the driveway on the other side of the house. When I looked again, Viktor was gone. But I’m positive it was him. Oh my God, do you think he did something to Zach’s car? Maybe that’s why it broke. So he’d take mine and I’d be alone in the house. Ben was the surprise. The thing he didn’t think would interrupt him. Shit.”
We down some more coffee and discuss it further. Fill Tess and Ben in on everything else that’s gone on. Our trip to 1920s London. The body shifting—we keep the details to a minimum, much to Tess’s dismay. Tasha’s betrayal with Viktor. Even the ballet that we’d gone to—the possible Giselle connection to Lily and also Lily’s appearance at Anne’s house. Anne’s father’s ultimatum.
In the end, we all agree. The threat is real and imminent and classic Viktor. Keep us all distracted while he gets whatever he wants. How far will he go to keep his immortality? And what will he do if we attempt to stop him? Or, Anne asks, if we don’t?
We leave out only one thing. The power that Viktor seems to have shifted to me. Neither Anne nor I mention it. But I can feel it prowling in her thoughts, just as I’m sure she can sense it in mine. But without discussion we seem to be in tacit agreement—this is something for us alone. Especially now with Ben in the mix. So far I’m able to keep it at bay. And when I can’t…
“Do you think Viktor really will do something horrible if he gets the chance?” Tess asks. “I guess he already could have, right? So maybe he’s not so bad? Or is he just afraid that Anne will sic Baba Yaga on him or something?”
“I think,” I say slowly, “that we can safely assume that he is not afraid of us. Not even of Baba Yaga. He never has been, remember? He’s the man who found a way to compel a legendary witch. I doubt his time with her was pleasant, but afraid of her? I highly doubt it.”
“Here’s what I want to know.” Ben drums his fingers on the table. “What’s the dude want? And don’t tell me the obvious. Of course he wants to live forever. Isn’t that what the bad guy always wants? World domination. Eternal life. Both. We all watched those Indiana Jones movies. Holy ark, holy grail, whatever. It all amounts to the same load of crap.
“So Viktor’s twist is he used his half sister Anastasia to get his wish. And made you”—he jerks his chin in my general direction—“immortal along with him. Which, let’s face it, he probably expected that you’d be totally fine with. If I were an evil mastermind, I’d be looking for the stupidest minions I could find. The ones who didn’t want to complain. Again, nothing new there. Even Julius Caesar surrounded himself with idiots. Or at least that’s what he figured until they offed him.”
Ben, it seems, has more layers than I’d anticipated. And, unless I’m mistaken, has used his knowledge of both cinema and history to call me a fool.
“So maybe what we saw in the past was really true,” Tess says. “He’s older than you, right, Ethan? And we already know that he wanted revenge on Tsar Nicholas. Wanted him to acknowledge to everyone that Viktor was his son. Even Professor Olensky never really thought about why the Brotherhood existed. He just bought into what the legends said—that it developed as this secret-society thing to protect the Romanovs. And Viktor was the bad guy who corrupted the system to get back at his dad. But maybe it wasn’t exactly like that. Maybe the Brotherhood was always a cover-up for what Viktor had planned for years. Maybe right from the start he was looking for people who he could use.”
The image of my father lying dead in the field, that of my mother and sister murdered in our house, come to me again, as they have so many times over so many years. To believe that their deaths weren’t just random violence is a step I’m not ready to take.
Anne rests her hand over mine. Squeezes. “All that doesn’t matter, though. I mean not really. True or not—it’s old news. He did it. I stopped him. And now I have to stop him again. I don’t think anything else is relevant.”
“Maybe,” Ben says, “I’m your fresh set of eyes here, Anne. I’m not invested in this like the rest of you. But you know how I love movies. And like I said, every movie with a bad guy, well, you have to know his motivation to figure the rest out. Unless it’s one of those ones where the bad guy figures he’s so invincible that he tells the good guy everything just before he attempts to kill him. I hate those.”
The restaurant has begun to fill with the breakfast crowd. Our waitress trudges to the table, hands me t
he check, and informs us that her shift is ending. Her subtle way of saying it’s time to give up the booth.
“What about that Koschei story?” Anne stretches, rolls her shoulders. She leans her elbows on the table. “You never did tell me the rest of it, remember?” She rests her gaze on Tess and then Ben. “When I was stuck in Tasha’s body, she and Viktor talked about Koschei the Deathless. She was like, ‘Hey, that’s just a story,’ but he was all ‘Hey, it’s more than that.’”
“Of course he’d think that,” I say. “It’s what he aspires to. Koschei is from Slavic folklore. He found a way not to die. As Ben would say, stories are full of people who try to trick Fate. In the stories, Koschei always gets caught. Someone figures out how to kill him. Surely Viktor doesn’t want that. And mentioning it to Tasha—it’s clear now that he was manipulating her beyond what she may have wanted from him. The name ‘Koschei’ would scare her. Like Baba Yaga, it’s a story, but not a pleasant one. Tasha already believed that he could harness enough magic to give her immortality. So why not pump up the fear by implying that he was as strong as a legendary immortal?”
“Oh, goody.” Tess slumps in her seat. “More crazy stories. And here I thought we were maybe on the verge of figuring out something. Do you know it’s getting light outside? What time is it, anyway? Maybe we need to just get out of here. This booth is pretty small, you know. I love breakfast food as much as the next person, but we can’t sit at IHOP forever. Although it’s better than being home and freaking out.”
She picks up the coffee pitcher, tips it over her mug. Just one small drop falls into her cup. She shakes it. Empty. “Or maybe we can. Maybe Anne can find a way to hide us in this coffeepot. Then if Viktor or crazy witches or mermaids on a vengeance streak come looking, they’ll never find us. ’Cause who would think four people could tuck themselves in a coffeepot? We can put it on the shelf in my parents’ closet along with Grandpa Bernie’s ashes.
“Did I ever tell you that’s where Grandpa Bernie is spending eternity? It’s totally gross. But the only thing in his will was that he wanted to be cremated. He never said what he wanted done with his ashes. So now he’s sitting in between my dad’s golf shoes and a jar of pennies. My dad thinks this is just fine. My mother keeps telling him that if she goes first, she wants us to sprinkle her remains in the fountains at the Bellagio in Vegas. She says that she’s not sure where her soul is going to end up, but she’d rather it not be in a jar inside a box balanced on top of a box of old Christmas cards.”
“Oh,” I say. Shit.
Anne looks at me sharply. “What?”
“Koschei. I think maybe it does mean something.”
Anne angles her gaze. Her eyes flicker with a mixture of curiosity and worry. “So now we’re not blowing off the story? What about him? And what does it have to do with Tess’s grandpa’s urn?”
“Can we go outside?” Tess pleads. “Please? He can tell the story while I breathe some fresh air. Viktor probably has better taste than to attack us at IHOP. The smell from all this syrup is making me want to vom.”
Wednesday, 5:58 am
Anne
Ethan checks the parking lot and deems it safe for now.
“I will totally not be your friend unless you swear to tell me the stuff you left out,” Tess whispers in my ear as we exit IHOP. “You almost did it with him while stuck in his ex’s bod! This is like the best story ever. I want every single detail.”
“Trust me when I say it was not as fun as you think.”
Outside, the sky’s getting lighter, red streaks rising over Lake Michigan. There’s a heaviness to the air. A storm is coming. Not now, but later. My chest tightens. I don’t do well with storms anymore. I’d imagine it’s the same for Ethan and Tess. Ben too. I scan the sky. Nothing but some wispy morning clouds, barely visible in the predawn light.
Tess and I perch on the hood of Ethan’s car, Ben and Ethan facing us. I’m on alert but also so tired that I think I could curl up right here on top of the car and take a nap. I’ve got six missed calls from my mom. I haven’t answered any of them. But eventually, I’ll have to. And I’ll go back home. I have no idea what will happen when I do.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Ben and Tess. He smiles at her, and she tucks a curl behind her ear. Tess and Ben. Definitely didn’t see that coming. Maybe on some level it’s a relief. Enough of a relief that I’m good with them breaking the time-honored rule of “Don’t date someone your best friend has gone out with.”
Am I evolved enough to listen to any future love-life details? Maybe.
He rests a hand briefly on her thigh. Maybe not.
Tess flicks Ben’s hand away and scoots closer to me. Whispers in my ear again. “Are you good with this? Because you know, if you’re not, he’ll just have to get over me.”
I squeeze her hand. “We’re good,” I whisper back. “Golden. Really.”
Ben folds his arms across himself, his gaze scanning right, left, above us. Like a bodyguard watching for danger. Ben with his military-cut blond hair, wearing faded jeans and a black Smiths’ The World Won’t Listen tee that hugs his muscles in ways I probably shouldn’t notice since we’re not together anymore. But mostly what I think as I look at it is that when I first started going out with him, Ben had cheery, happy taste in music. A few months with me, and he’s joined the angst train. Tess will be a good cure for this. Tess and Ben. Maybe I really am good with that.
Ben catches me checking him out. The slightest of smiles quirks his lips, then he’s all business. “So this Koschei. How did he keep from dying? And why do you suddenly think it’s so important?”
“It’s a tale my mother told us,” Ethan says. “I’m going to tell it like she did. So you hear it exactly like I used to. When I’m done, I’ll tell you what I’m thinking. And then you can judge.”
“Fair enough,” Ben says, and then Ethan begins.
“Once there was a powerful magician named Koschei. He was a great sorcerer. The clouds would move in the sky as he directed; the rains would fall where he desired. If he wanted wild mushrooms of a certain type, they would sprout in abundance where his gaze met the ground. If he desired a pretty young girl, he would take her and she would not resist. Just one glance and she was in his thrall. The snows would fall at his whim. The sun would bake the earth if he commanded it to. Grapes would cluster on vines for the fine wine that graced his dining table.
In summer he would ride his horse through the Caucasus Mountains, and his wild laughter would echo in the canyons. Koschei’s legend was great. The villagers feared him. ‘Beware the sorcerer,’ people said. ‘He is a tricky one, that Koschei. He can shift shapes and ride into the village in the guise of a wild black stallion or whirl through the air like a thunderstorm.’
If a mist hovered on the ground or a fog obscured a farmer’s vision as he walked to his field before the sun was up, people warned that this might be Koschei, taking the shapes of nature. They were awed and afraid. Families would warn their daughters to beware. ‘Koschei might steal you,’ they would say. ‘He loves beautiful women. Even your husbands cannot protect you if Koschei desires your company.’
But there was one thing that Koschei wanted that he could not have. Or rather, he could, but even his great powers could not promise it to him forever. Koschei wanted what many have desired but few have ever achieved. He wanted to live forever. And he had found a way, for one cannot die if one’s life force is separated from one’s body. If when Death comes searching, he finds only the outer shell and not the inner spirit.
Koschei had hidden his soul inside a needle in a duck’s egg, hidden inside a hare, tucked away in a chest, buried under an oak tree that grows on an unknown island in the middle of an unknown ocean. He would remain unassailable and immortal until that egg was found. And if that egg was broken, his soul would return to his body and he could in turn be killed.”
> Ethan pauses.
“You Russians are seriously disturbed,” Tess comments. “This was a fairy tale? About some lecherous dude that ended up inside an egg? How much therapy would I need if my mother read me crap like that? But whatever. That story is one of the ones Anne and I were researching before our whole whirlwind ride to Cossack land. In the version we found, someone smacks Koschei in the head with the egg, and Koschei dies. I guess I skimmed the rest of it so fast I missed the soul stuff. So he’s not invincible, right? Is that the point? But seriously—what would a kid learn from this? ‘Hey, Ivan, don’t shove your soul in an egg ’cause eventually someone will smack you between the eyes?’ And what does this have to do with—oh.”
“Oh,” Ben echoes.
“You see what I’m thinking?” Ethan nods like we’re all on the same wavelength. Ben nods too.
It takes me a few extra seconds. Possibly because watching Ben and Ethan nod their heads like they’re two old friends throws my universe askew. Ben hates Ethan. Ethan isn’t much fonder of Ben. And now Ben is going out with Tess, which is weird but okay. My brain is already so full it’s no wonder I’m the last one to catch on.
“Viktor is Koschei,” Ethan says. “Or like Koschei. I don’t think the distinction matters. My God, everything is finally making sense. When he walked out of Baba Yaga’s hut and Lily shot him, he didn’t die. And why didn’t he die?”
“Because he’d hidden his soul.” My heart thunders in my ears, and my chest feels tight again, like my lungs have forgotten how to work. “Because he found a way to get back what I took away from him when we brought Anastasia out of the forest. He figured out another way to immortality.”
I breathe through my nose, attempting calm. Instead, I almost hyperventilate. “Why is it,” I squeeze the words out of my too-freaked-to-function lungs, “that every time you tell me some new fairy tale, it turns out to be real? You’re serious, aren’t you? My insane double-great-grandfather has actually found a way to hide his soul. Fabulous.”
