Anastasia Romanov (Sequel)

by Svetlana Ivanova

  Then Lyra brought me some blood in a crystal glass.

  "You don't have to do this, Lyra," I said with a frown.

  "It's not mine," she said. "One of the hunter girls gave it to me."

  "Which one?"

  "The girl in the red hood," she answered. "She also asked me to come here in the first place, saying you might need help."

  "I see,” I said with a nod.

  Once I downed the blood, I began to feel so much better. The wound had reduced from a nagging pain to a slight itch.

  "They want you outside," Lyra told me later. Then I remembered what Valerina had said before I kissed her and she stabbed me.

  After everything was ready, we stepped out of the chamber together. Lyra was walking by my side. There were several other hunters waiting for us. Among them was Valerina. She stood with her arms folded across her chest. Her face looked at somewhere else.

  Then the man I had seen from yesterday came down the hall towards us.

  "We would like to invite you for a tour with the General if you're up to it today," he said.

  "As if I could refuse," I said.

  "Good then," the red-haired man said. “We should go.”

  He led the way, and as we started to walk, I stole a quick glance at the quiet huntress.

  A rose.

  A beautiful red rose with deadly thorns, that what she reminded me of.

  Chapter 18

  Half of the castle was carved out of the mountain rock, but it had an air of ancient beauty to it. The gothic place could be unbearably cold if it wasn't constantly lit.

  As our feet echoed on the stone floor, I saw the Alpha and her group of hunters came from the opposite side. The same bearded man I had conversed with the other day gave me a smile of greeting as he walked gracefully forward. Vale went out to join them like she couldn't stand being near me anymore. This part made me frown while staring at her. Perhaps she was still angry at me.

  "I hope you have a good night rest," Trotsky spoke, breaking my gaze from the huntress.

  "As good as a vampire without her coffin could sleep, I guess," I said, turning to look at the man without much of a nod in return.

  Vale and her sister turned to me with a disturbed look on their faces. They must have found my joke a bit unsettling but Trotsky just burst out laughing and shook his head amusingly.

  "Oh Anastasia dear, I knew you and I could get along very well," he said. "Now, how about we walk around and get to know each other a bit more?"

  I didn't say anything and he turned to the man standing beside us.

  "Arkady, has everyone been informed of the visit?"

  "Yes, sir, they already know and will tolerate her presence," Arkady said.

  "Very well then," Trotsky nodded and turned to me again. "I need to make sure our people are aware of your stay. They have been through terrible things. They might get uncomfortable. To put it plainly, they hate you. But at least I promise that no one would start staking you when we go out for a civilized stroll."

  Lyra came to grip my arm as if she was the one who had to worry about such hatred. I touched her hand reassuringly. I could feel Valerina's icy blue eyes on us, but if she felt anything she didn't show it.

  They ushered me through the corridor and down the main hall. Vale walked to the general's left whereas his right was the Alpha. I strode behind them with Lyra silently accompanied me along with Arkady and other hunters.

  The Alpha wore a brown vest with gold piping over a black low-cut crop top and a black crest that resembled a burning phoenix. She also wore a leather belt with a pair of shiny golden-hilted blades. Aside from an black scarf around her slim neck, she had no discernible jewelry. Her knee-high platform boots also had several throwing knives wrapped around their necks.

  I noticed her long brunette hair becomes lighter in color at the tips and flows in a loose and messy manner. Both of the sisters, I realized didn't share the same pale complexion —Vale had creamy white skin while her sister's was glowing olive. And of course, they had contrasted beauties, too.

  There were hunters at every corner of the building and more of them stood outside. I looked at the winter sky and squinted my eyes at the sun. The snow was thick on the rooftops of every stone house in the quarter. Three or four women were standing at their doorways and looking at us. Some were doing daily domestic chores. There were about fifty houses, most made of stone, oak, and pine. I saw carpenters preparing logs of various sizes and people slotted them together to build new huts.

  They had a small trading quarter, where they sold various things; homemade breads, homegrown vegetables, and wild livestock. There were children, learning songs and alphabets inside small open-air hut. Everything looked like an early Moscow settlement.

  "How many people are living here?" I found myself asking for the first time after a long walk later.

  "About three hundreds from different nationalities," Trotsky said. "Most are Russians. Other survivors of the war and vampire domination were either rescued or escaped. Some came from as far as Ukraine, Belarus, and Armenia. A few Crimean and Tatar families, the descendants of the Mongols, also live here. We give them shelters and food until they can live on their own."

  The men gave a nod of respect to Trotsky as we passed, but they glared at me with tension in their postures. I averted my eyes away from them. It reminded me of the time before the war when people had scorned our family and eventually gotten rid of us. I grimaced at the memory that came back like a whiff of bad smell. Vale noticed me but she glanced away as soon as I spotted her. In that moment, I felt guilty for what I had done to her back in the chamber. Maybe she had come to apologize to me or maybe she was just following the order. She shouldn’t regret putting me in this position.

  Either way, we both were still strangers, weren't we? And what made me think I could possess such a delicate precious woman? I was merely a blood-sucking creature after all.

  Trotsky broke my reverie by turning me towards a large horse-drawn sledge. The stable boys brought out Valerina and her sister's horses.

  "Where are we going?" I asked the man.

  "To our military base behind that forest," he said, gesturing to the general direction of the woods. I didn't feel like asking anything and just followed them.

  We got onto the sleigh, which had a cushioned couch, while the others mounted the horses and motor skis. Then we started towards a path through the wilderness.

  "By the way, where are we?"

  "Oh, my apology for not informing you earlier. I guess my hunters have done a very good job at keeping our forts a secret," Trotsky said with a chuckle. "But don't worry, you're not that far from Moscow."

  "Are we in Siberia?" I said, looking around the place as if to find a sign that would say so.

  "Yes, Grand Duchess," Trotsky answered. "Siberia, the place where millions were tortured and killed back in my day. Stalin had ruled the country with his tyrant grip and had made sure this part of the country was a living hell. I still remember it as clear as a crystal blinking in the sun."

  "Stalin ordered people to assassinate you, I remember." I looked at the man, who was stroking his beard with a thoughtful expression. "They claimed you died after the second attempt."

  "Indeed, I died but then I didn't," he said, raising his thick black brows at me. "We are so much alike in this sense, don't you think, Anastasia?"

  It took about an hour to make our ways through the forest. The path had so many turns as if to confuse anyone who would attempt to venture there. We went past a frozen lake and a number of hillsides before we got to the base. When we arrived at the fortress, I was surprised to see many cemented buildings situated around the snow-packed plain inside a stone enclosure. There were two guard towers standing at the front of the iron gate.

  "You built all these?"

  "No, it's the secret prison that was abandoned by the Soviet Government," Trotsky said. "They kept it hidden so that the world didn't know of all the cruel things they had done. Many
of such prisons were destroyed, of course, but this one survived and we made good use of it."

  After we entered through the gate, everyone got off. I looked around the place some more and was impressed by the heavy sense of security it brought me.

  "Would you like to see our training routines?" Trotsky asked me afterward. I didn't say anything, but he figured that I wasn't going to refuse either and walked further inside.

  The General was occasionally greeted by commanders and soldiers along the way. Most of them wore woven greatcoats, fur-caps, and knee-high boots with a rifle and an axe—obviously a vintage uniform of Russian Cossacks.

  "I thought you were all hunters," I said to Trotsky.

  "The Cossacks are like vampire hunters themselves," he said with a smirk. "They were a potent military force in the past. They used to fight against the fiercest invaders in all Europe, not to mention Napoleon Bonaparte. These men are known for their disciplines, perseverance and military pride." We walked on the cobblestoned path that led to the main square.

  "The Cossacks used to serve the Czars, too,” Trotsky added. “They enjoyed privileges and certain degree of freedom in return for their military service. Today we live together as a group. They live by their laws. All are armed, even children and women. This is a very proud community."

  I listened in silence.

  Then we heard a call in the distance and I saw Vale turning away from the group to greet a young blonde hair man who was running towards us. He wore the same uniform, with a scabbard hanging from a shoulder belt known as baldric, which held a sabre, a curved single-edged Russian sword. Another shorter yet bigger blade attached to his waist-belt. He looked like a Cossack, but the young man didn't behave like a stiff board like the others. His pale green eyes were what gave him away. They were too soft.

  "Vale, you're back!" the young man said but then he stopped to salute the General as if he had just remembered his superior. I stared at him from where I stood. He was tall and more of a lean-looking boy, handsome with his boyish features. A childish grin plastered on his face as he looked at my huntress. I coughed at the sight involuntarily, causing Lyra to look at me.

  "Are you alright?" she asked and I just nodded back. Then the young man turned to Arkady, who gave him a look of disapproval for some reason.

  "Uncle," the boy regarded him almost in disheartened tone.

  "How is the training today, Damir?" Trotsky spoke.

  "It's going smoothly as usual, General," he said politely. "They are now adapted to the new weapons we just installed. I think this is going to work out great."

  "Oh perfect. I would like to show our guest what we've got here, too," he said, smiling. Then he turned to me again. "Here is our Damir, a nephew of Arkardy. He's the best inventor of weaponry we've got. His work is pure genius."

  I looked at Damir, who seemed to flutter under my gaze. Suddenly Valerina held his hand as if to reassure him that I couldn't harm him as long as she was here. It made me frown in exasperation at her gesture. Were they lovers? The question hurled at me like a splash of cold water. I realized I did not like the notion of Vale being someone else's at all.

  "Alright, shall we go around the field to see?" Trotsky said again. I slowly turned my eyes away from the couple and resumed my walk as if I hadn't seen anything that troubled me.

  Chapter 19

  As we made our ways across the base, another man with a thick curved mustache appeared. He dressed in the same red uniform and was walking with several other soldiers towards us. His eyes were violet and bright with purpose. He was a vampire—that I could tell. The place seemed to be roaming with vampires more than I first thought.

  When they reached us, the man stopped and stared at me as if to ascertain who I was. His face was familiar but also unknown to me.

  "Who's this?" I asked Trotsky without taking my eyes off the man.

  "Anastasia, don't you recognize him? Standing in front of you is the world famous cavalry leader, General Krasnoff of the Cassocks."

  I had heard the name before, way back when Russia was under the Sickle and Hammer.

  "He was the one who got trialed for treason and hung on a hook in the Red Square by Stalin," Trotsky added, almost in an amused tone directed at the other vampire.

  "At least I died with my dignity as a hero for my people and did not bleed my brain out by an ice pick," Krasnoff retorted venomously back at Trotsky.

  "Alright, alright, old man. I know you still hate me but can we just forget about our past?" Trotsky said, putting his hands up in surrender. "Regardless of who we were and what we are now, we are in the same boat and share the same goal. To liberate the humans, we, the Order of the Cossack Knights and Vampire Hunters, have to stick together."

  "But I remember two days ago, you said you would assassinate the Grand Duchess, Trotsky," Krasnoff said with a deadpan face while staring at me. "Now you're standing there with your enemy. How will I ever trust you Bolshevik again?"

  Trotsky boomed a laugh as if it was funny.

  "I see your concern, Krasnoff," he said. "But I changed my mind for the better. Now Anastasia Romanov is one of us. She has joined the Order now."

  "I haven't said anything about joining your circle," I said bluntly.

  "Oh Anastasia, Anastasia," Trotsky said and clicked his tongue like he was scolding a child. "Sometimes, your mind has to accept what your heart already knows."

  A while later I heard a bell rang. The tapping noises of leather boots sounded as the Cossack soldiers rushed out from every buildings in their flying long red coat. I learned that they were to present themselves in the square under Krasnoff's order.

  Then after a long moment, I was fairly surprised when the Generals brought me to a dais in the central square of the military base. It was setting in front of the faces of all the Cossack army. There were roughly five to six hundred soldiers standing at attention. All I could see was a sea of red coat uniforms and black fur-caps.

  After they did a round of army salute, Trotsky came to the front and spoke words of greeting to the solemn soldiers. Then Trotsky turned in my direction as Krasnoff looked on.

  "And today, I have the honor of welcoming an important guest," he said as he opened his hand towards me and his violet eyes shone with mischief. "One of the two imperial princesses: Anastasia Romanov."

  As he introduced me with a wide smile, everyone looked at me in awed silence. A burst of whisperings hummed in the freezing cold air like a colony of bees.

  I just stood there, looking back at them. Valerina and the inventor boy stood in the background. Her sister, Arkady, and the Cossack general looked at me.

  "Anastasia," Trotsky spoke to me. "These are the new generations of the former vanguards of the Czars. Would you like to say something to them?"

  At that moment, I thought he was a sadistic crazy old man and a vampire no less. With a knowing smile, the General stepped away and motioned for me to the front. He seemed to be saying, 'Don't miss your chance to make a good impression.'

  I wasn't having a stage fright, but the situation required me to talk about something I had no idea of. The soldiers watched me take a step forward and just freeze there.

  For all those years, I had seen my father gave speeches to his army, but none had survived in my memory. Alex had somehow filled in the role as the head of state afterward. She had talked at length about the importance of powerful words. They were the sharpest weapons and most destructive for rulers to use to sway the audiences with moving intonations, to tug at their heartstring like a puppeteer does to the puppets, and to mesmerize them so they'd obey you blindly. I had never paid attention to whatever she had to say. It just wasn't my concern. But this was a desperate time and I could feel their curious, waiting eyes on me. The air seemed to be charged with tension.

  These people were at one point the true guardians of the Czars. They were known for their loyalty, their eternal struggle for freedom, their heroic stand against Bolshevik aggression and tyranny, their free and e
asy way of living, and most of all, their passionate love for their land.

  This wasn't about me. Now I started to realize what Trotsky possessed—the power of persuasion. He had passively, but mostly aggressively, turned me around to join the Hunters and now the Cossacks without me realizing it. And I had to earn their trust.

  My role here was not to represent fear to these people. I was here as a promise of hope. They would see that something good could really come out of me. I was a symbol of their hope no matter how paradoxical it sounded.

  I raised my head to the crowd, staring from face to face. They looked rough for having bathed in nothing but icy water and eaten whatever nature could sustain them. Their unshaven cheeks were red from the cold and puffs of foggy breath clouded over like smoke from their noses.

  They were tough looking men. A number of them were women, who were probably daughters or wives of the fallen Cossack fathers and husbands.

  "You might not know me," I started out in a soft yet clear voice I could muster, "but maybe your parents or grandparents have heard of my family, the Romanovs. I died with them a long time ago."

  I could see a wave of discomfort wash over the army as they listened to my words. Behind my back, I felt the pair of familiar eyes staring like laser beams. I had to confess, I sort of enjoyed that particular attention. It was the idea of me having touched death that made me feel superior.

  "Greed has poisoned men's soul and caused the world to be barren and filled with hate," I said, making eye contact with them again. "I was wiped out during the current of tragedy and revenge. And before I realized what was taking shape, everything had fallen into misery and bloodshed. After the Czardom had collapsed, thousands of Cossack families were beaten to death by rifle butts and died as slaves of the Great Father of the People, Joseph Stalin. As they were waiting for Soviet trucks and trains to take them to the land of execution, I, myself, had gone through the same fate. Now this similar thing is happening to our world once again. And I never wish for your sons and daughters to suffer like us."