“I am not talking about bringing change, Ilana. I am saying change is happening. I am saying the demon would twist this historical moment to a dark place if it could. Turn it against Russia. Turn it against the world. In the end, it is not about countries, Ilana. It is not about wars. It is about the human race... it is about all of you. Together.”
Ilana thought about his words.
Spoken to the wrong person, they would be enough to earn him time in a work camp.
But Raguel was right. Things were changing.
His words felt true. The change happened silently, but it was all around her. Her own bosses and leaders were already reacting to that change, for good and for ill.
But it was more than that, too. The rest of what lived there, behind his words, nearly brought tears to her eyes. Again, she could not have articulated why.
What he saw, the way he saw her and her people––there was love there.
She felt that love, and it felt both deeply personal and yet extended to all people.
She also felt a faint, half-remembered spark of her own. She felt what Raguel pointed to, that thread of humanity that tied her with people all over the world. Not only other Russians––but all of them. All of them were her people.
He was right. One could not make such a thing happen.
It took all of them to do that. Together.
Something else he said struck her as true as well. There were moments in any confluence of events that could be pivotal. They could be manipulated, nudged, influenced. That line could be bent upwards... or it could be knocked down. Ilana had seen that, too.
She had seen it in her own life.
Shaking her head to get the clouds from behind her eyes, she clenched her jaw, placing her mug in the sink with more force than necessary.
“You think this is about Chernenko, then?” she said. She glanced over her shoulder at him, biting the inside of her cheek. “About who will replace him? You think this... Lahash... would put the wrong person in power?”
“It is possible. Perhaps even likely.”
Sighing, she walked back to him, back to the table.
She sat in the chair opposite his, leaning her arms on her lime green kitchen table. She fought to clear her mind, to think, conscious that something about this man was affecting her way of viewing her world so much it terrified her. Studying those fathomless gray eyes, she found herself knowing one thing with utter certainty.
Whatever he was, angel or not––he was different somehow.
At she thought it, it hit her that some part of her actually believed him.
She believed he might not be human. She couldn’t make sense of the angel thing. She knew nothing of religion. Both of her parents had been staunch atheists under Soviet Russia, right up until the moments of their deaths––and Ilana had been, as well.
But there was definitely something... well, different... about him.
She tried not to be distracted by his odd confession that he “liked” her. Some part of her wondered though. She wondered what that word even meant to him, given what he claimed to be. Tugging her hair back over a shoulder, she sighed again, rubbing her face with both hands.
“You are saying whatever comes next, it is meant to change history?” she said next, looking up. “Perhaps to change the mood of things so that a different leader might be chosen? Someone other than who the Party would have wanted?”
“Yes. It is possible.”
“What do you think that will look like? Where would we start?”
Raguel shrugged. “This thing with the United States seems the most likely. But there are other things... internal problems, factions within your government. Within the KGB too, da? Economic problems? I know there is disagreement with how Poland is being handled...”
Ilana exhaled in frustration. “You are describing the normal state of my government, comrade...”
Raguel inclined his head. “Yes. But something could push those things into much sharper extremes, Ilana. There are tipping points here, just like anywhere.”
She shook her head. At this point, she knew she fought herself as much as him.
More, perhaps. For better or worse, she found herself believing him. At the very least, she’d decided to follow him down his rabbit hole a ways further.
Exhaling, she forced herself to think, frowning. “From everything you are saying, it sounds more like a disruption inside Russia. If the military or KGB perceived a credible anti-Soviet threat of some kind––particularly one with capitalist backing––it would likely get very ugly right now. It would ignite paranoia at least. There would be opportunists who would want this... those opposed to economic reform, and so on.” Still thinking, she met his gaze. “Where do you think this thing will start? Where will your ‘demon’ light his match?”
Leaning back in his chair, Raguel exhaled all at once, like he’d held a breath and only now let it go. Combing a hand through his streaky, white-blond hair, he tilted his chin towards the ceiling and sighed again. When he looked at her next, he was smiling. It was a tired smile, but a depth of feeling lived there, along with more of that intense relief.
It struck her that he was relieved beyond words that she wanted to talk to him about this.
“This is where I need your help, Ilana,” he said, that relief reaching his voice. “I do not know what Lahash might do next. The conditions are there for numerous different possibilities, as you said. But in what order? What will be the flash point?”
She grimaced, but didn’t argue with his basic premise.
Instead she found she was still thinking. After a few more minutes, she nodded, more to herself that time.
“We start with the children,” she said slowly. “That was his first move, da? How is it connected? Could it be the beginning of something larger?”
Raguel looked down at the table, smoothing his damp hair again when it fell in his face. That relief once more pulsed off him, brief but intense.
“I have thought about this. It is possible he wanted to begin by inciting fear, paranoia... or even misdirection. That would explain the location of the bodies.” He met her gaze. “It is also possible I was the intended audience for that killing. He made it gruesome enough and public enough to get my attention. Perhaps he wished to draw me closer, so he could make me human? Get me out of the way for whatever he is planning?”
“Why you?” Her lips pursed in a humorless smile. “You are in charge of dead children?”
He gave a delicate shrug.
“Where I am from, I am what you would call law enforcement,” he said, returning her smile with an enigmatic one of his own. “...It is my specialty, you could say. I control the demon population in the human realms... as much as such a thing is possible. I do not do this alone and it is not all I do, but I spend much of my time on it. I also lead others in this task. I particularly look at crimes by The Fallen which might have far-reaching ramifications for large numbers of human beings.” Sighing, he added, “I confess, I wonder now if this whole thing with the children and Golunsky was just to put the key in my hands.”
“Do you still have the key?” Ilana said.
Raguel gave her a puzzled look. “No.”
“Where is it?”
He frowned, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him.
“It is a celestial object––” he began.
“I thought that was inconclusive,” she said. “The key’s origins... I thought you did not know yet, what it was? You or your boss? Wasn’t that the point of taking it?”
He stared at her, as if thinking.
“If it exists down here, it is likely either at the police station or the park,” she said. “Did you look for it in the park?”
Frowning harder, he shook his head again. “No.” Rueful, he added, “I was a little preoccupied with suddenly being human and naked and arrested. And so cold I could not think about anything else at first.” He gave her another of those smiles. “There is no ‘cold’ where I am from, Ilana. And I
admit, my mind is somewhat... different... here. It does not operate the same as where I am from. I am still adjusting to those differences.”
Nodding, she found herself deciding.
“Then we will start there.” She nodded more firmly. “Da. We will go back to the park. We will look for your key first.”
She rose to her feet, only glancing down at his face once she had straightened. She was surprised to see another, more emotional flush of relief there, along with a look that might have made her blush under different circumstances.
When she averted her gaze, shouldering on her suit jacket from where she’d left it on the back of her kitchen chair, he stood slowly to follow her. He walked around the table towards her, watching as she buttoned the front of her jacket.
Then something else occurred to her, and she looked down at his feet.
“Shoes,” she muttered. “We must find you shoes first, comrade. And I do not think Uri’s will fit you. He has strangely small feet...”
He glanced down, following her eyes to his overly white feet where they poked out from below the pants. She was still looking at them, wincing at how cold they looked... when he reached for her. He moved quickly, impulsively.
For reasons she couldn’t explain, Ilana didn’t try to evade his hands.
She let him take hold of her arms, then tug her gently closer.
She continued to accommodate him when he slid his arms around her. After the barest pause, she wrapped her own arms around him. Still holding her around the back with one muscular arm, he began to touch her with his other hand. He reached up, pushing her hair carefully off her shoulder and neck, as he had seen her do herself.
Then he began exploring her cautiously with his hands. With the arm and hand wrapped around her, he massaged her back and neck and shoulder while he touched the rest of her with his other hand. He started with her face and throat and collarbones then slid his fingers down her side to her thigh, massaging her there slowly before he moved to the small of her back.
He leaned his body against hers as he exhaled in more relief. She closed her eyes when he didn’t stop, leaning against him in return.
Neither of them spoke.
She continued to stand there, silent, as he slid a hand down her arm, pulling it off him gently so he could caress her hand and fingers. She glanced up when he did, watching a complex expression tighten his face as he massaged her palm and wrist. She continued to watch his eyes as he traced the lines of her thumb and fingers. Heat emanated off him now, but she found she only wanted to press closer to him.
For a long-feeling handful of minutes, they just stood there together.
She didn’t let herself think about her motives––not for either of them.
THERE IS NO RELIGION IN THE MOTHERLAND
SHE MANAGED TO find him some socks and slippers that more or less fit, also left behind by Uri. The latter were more than a size too small for the taller Raguel, but they would serve until she could get him in the car and to an actual store.
She put off asking him the questions nagging at her, even now.
She put off asking even those questions that aligned with his crazy story.
Like what he intended to do if they found this key. Like how she would contact him if he disappeared once more, turning back into the angel he claimed to be.
Like how they would stop Golunsky from doing whatever he had planned if she couldn’t speak to Raguel in his angelic form. Well, assuming Golunsky actually had something planned, being in custody of the Moscow city militia.
There was no way Raguel’s crazy story could be true, of course, but she realized some part of her turned over the details of what he’d told her anyway.
But... and it was a very big but... if Raguel was telling the truth, where did that leave her?
If Golunsky really was a demon, as Raguel claimed, how did one arrest a demon?
How did one stop a dark plot by a demon?
From what Raguel told her, a demon could manipulate whole groups of people at one time, as well as individuals. It that were true, the demon could have ignited a conspiracy of some kind already. An apolitical conspiracy disguised as a political one.
The demon could be fanning flames within the Party, or even within certain branches of the government by playing on tensions that already existed.
Raguel was right––the conditions were there. Those fights were already happening.
The “window,” as Raguel called it, was open.
How could she possibly do anything about that?
She, Ilana, was not an angel. She could help Raguel look for where the demon might unfold his plans, but what could she do about it, even if they found it? Would she approach her superiors and tell them they could not react aggressively to a perceived security threat because they were very possibly being manipulated by a demon?
Angel or no, Raguel was not giving her much to work with.
All of this turned slowly in her mind as she stood with a friend of hers, a woman who ran a state shoe outlet with her husband at the Kitai-gorod GUM store facing Red Square. Her friend, Tasha, kept looking at her periodically and raising her eyebrows as she watched Raguel get his feet measured by her husband.
Ilana could tell Tasha was dying to ask about her mysterious friend, who she’d only briefly introduced to them both as a “work colleague.” In fact, calling that introduction brief might even be an understatement. She’d barely muttered his name before handing him over to Tasha’s husband to get him fitted for new shoes.
From the purse-lipped but humor-laden smile Tasha aimed at Raguel’s body and face, she had clearly noticed Ilana’s angelic friend was more than a little easy on the eyes.
When Ilana refused to answer her meaningful stares, Tasha stepped closer and nudged her sharply with an elbow.
“Well? Who is he? Who is your friend?”
“He’s helping me with a... a work issue.”
“Uh-huh. A work issue.” She smirked. “Isn’t that Uri’s sweater he’s wearing?”
Ilana felt her face warm. “It is.” She quirked an eyebrow at her friend. “Should I be disturbed that you noticed that, Tasha?”
But Tasha wasn’t to be distracted. “So this beautiful specimen of Russian maleness.... he had reason to change his clothing at your place? How intriguing.”
Ilana rolled her eyes, but felt her face heat more.
Folding her arms, she didn’t answer.
Tasha laughed. “What did you do to his shoes? Do I even want to know?”
Ilana saw Raguel glance up, as if he’d heard that last part.
“Shut up, Tasha.”
“He definitely likes you, Ilana,” Tasha whispered back. When Ilana gave her a warning look, Tasha only winked. “He looks at you a lot. He tries to do it carefully, very stealthy in his small glances, but Miss Tasha sees all. Including him staring at your ass when you took off your coat, Ilana dearest...”
Ilana flushed warmer still. “Can we discuss this thing later, Tasha?”
“Oh certainly, my friend. Certainly. We can discuss this ‘thing’ whenever you wish...”
Ilana scowled, but Tasha only flipped her long dark hair over one shoulder, laughing louder. Ilana couldn’t help noticing that Tasha looked as fashionable as always in a forest green jacket and skirt. Certainly better than Ilana herself did in her dusty black, two-year-old suit jacket and boots. Maybe she should take more advantage of the perks of her position.
At least buy herself some better clothes.
“Maybe you and your friend want to get drinks with us later?” Tasha prompted, still grinning at her. “I could ask him these questions myself? I find myself quite... stimulated... by the idea of interrogating him personally.”
Ilana snorted. “You are ridiculous, Tasha.”
“Come now, don’t be greedy. Grigor is curious too, I can tell.”
“I think we will be working,” Ilana muttered, still watching Raguel where he bent over the shoes with Tasha’s husband. �
��Perhaps another day.”
“I will take you up on that. I wish to hear all about this ‘work problem’ of yours that comrade handsome with the sex-eyes insists on helping you with personally...”
Ilana snorted again in spite of herself.
Again, Raguel glanced back at the two of them. That time, Tasha noticed his glance as well, but only laughed, rubbing her friend’s shoulder affectionately with one hand.
They’d found black leather dress shoes that fit Raguel by then. As soon as they’d settled accounts, Ilana found herself ushering him out the door as quickly as she could before Tasha could embarrass her for real. Raguel watched her hand over the rubles and then take the receipt from Tasha’s husband with a frown on his face, however.
As they walked out the door, he spoke to her in a low voice.
“I have no way to pay you, Ilana,” he said.
Shouldering on her coat, she waved this off, not bothering to answer.
He followed her in silence.
He didn’t try to speak to her again until they were outside the GUM store altogether. By then, they’d walked half of the long block back to where she’d left her used-to-be-gold Zhiguli parked on the snow-dusted street.
“Ilana.” He caught hold of her arm, right as she’d been reaching for the door handle to her driver’s side door. “We should talk about this.”
She exhaled, looking up at him. She felt her cheeks heat involuntarily when she saw that intense gaze of his focused on hers, worry etched in his frown.
“Do not trouble yourself about this, comrade,” she said, dismissive as she averted her gaze. “It is only shoes. You needed them. It is done.”
“But I’ll need to eat in this form, as well.” He spoke as if these things had only just occurred to him. “...I have no place to sleep. If I sleep outside, I will be even colder than I was this morning. I will also likely be arrested again.” He swallowed, tightening his hold on her arm. “I do not wish to sleep outside, Ilana.”
Ilana found herself staring out over the street, watching the traffic pass.
She hadn’t thought about any of these things consciously yet, but it occurred to her that she’d already made up her mind. She simply hadn’t admitted as much to herself, much less to him. Feeling herself flush warmer, she fought an inexplicable wave of irritation at him. It occurred to her that her irritation came from him forcing her to speak that assumption aloud.
Shadow WIngs (Skeleton Key) Page 8
