A Company of Monsters (The Sorcerers of Verdun Book 2)

by Shami Stovall

  The three bowed their heads and then hustled off without a word.

  “We have a sorcerer here with communis mastery,” Grand Duchess Anastasia said as she returned her attention to Geist. “Normally his range of telepathy is limited to a city or district, but you need not worry. My attendants are powerful practitioners of an ancient and useful sorcery known as potentia.”

  Battery perked up, his eyes wide.

  Potentia was the sorcery he used to empower others.

  “All three of them know potentia?” Geist asked. “And they all empower a single person?”

  Grand Duchess Anastasia nodded. “Oh? You know of potentia? Most sorcerers have little experience with it.”

  “I’m familiar with it, but I’ve never seen multiple people use it at once.”

  “Each sorcerer who uses their empowering magic magnifies the last. The range of telepathy will surely increase to reach the edge of the Russian Empire. Perhaps farther.”

  “Damn,” Blick muttered under his breath.

  “Please be my guests in the meantime,” Grand Duchess Anastasia said. She held out her hands and motioned to the palace around her. “We have spare rooms, and I’ll order you a fine meal. It’s the least I can do for members of the Ethereal Squadron who have traveled so far.”

  Geist turned her gaze to the floor. “I…”

  “Please! I know that one of your members still needs treatment with my older sister, Tatiana. You must give him time to rest.”

  Defiant does need rest, Geist reasoned. But I really can’t allow the enemy to have the lead. I still need to warn so many of—

  But then it struck her. Someone in the palace had nation-wide telepathy. What if she could send a message to the remaining sorcerer houses who were in danger of having their blood stolen? But I doubt the grand duchess will allow me the use of her sorcerer to convince Russian sorcerers to leave the empire. Geist shook her head. Maybe she’ll allow me to send a warning. I can go to them afterward and help them escape.

  “Grand Duchess Anastasia,” Geist said. “There’s a favor I need to ask of you. Several sorcerer houses in the Russian Empire may be at risk. Enemy operatives have come to—”

  “Are you American?” Grand Duchess Anastasia injected.

  “Uh, y-yes.”

  Although her family came from Austria-Hungary, Geist always considered herself American first. It was her home—the one place she enjoyed and admired above all others.

  “I can tell by your accent,” the grand duchess continued. “I do adore the Americas.”

  “Er, okay. As I was saying, there are enemy operatives out to kill Russian sorcerers. Perhaps you could have your friend warn these houses as well. They need to be on guard.”

  “Yes. That would be prudent. How many houses?”

  “House Solovyev, House Lungin, House Menshov, and—” Geist stopped herself before she could add House Kott. That house was already accounted for. “Just those three, Grand Duchess.”

  Victory coughed into his hand. Not a normal cough, like Geist had heard a million times before, but something forced and awkward. She knew what it meant. Somehow, she had gotten her etiquette wrong.

  Why can’t Victory simply handle this? she thought, but the answer came to her a moment later. It was the burden of commanding the squad. She had to be the one to interact with the Royal Houses.

  Without warning, Grand Duchess Anastasia gasped. She fell forward, her face pale and hands shaking. Captain Uthof rushed to her side and caught her before she completely collapsed to the floor. With a gentle touch, he helped her back onto her feet.

  “Forgive me,” she murmured. “Without the empowerment… I feel so weak…”

  A dead fish had more color than she did.

  Geist didn’t comment. She knew what it felt like when Battery wasn’t around—especially if she had been relying on him for an extended period of time. But three Batterys? She couldn’t imagine.

  But then her headache faded.

  Just… gone.

  The clarity of focus took Geist by surprise.

  “You should rest, Your Grace,” Captain Uthof said as he ushered the grand duchess toward the door. “Please. I’ll make sure the tsar is informed. You can leave everything to me.”

  Before the grand duchess could be guided away, she stopped and turned back around. “I will order the servants to make arrangements for you in the palace.” Her voice, half of what it was, came out breathless.

  Geist rubbed at the back of her neck. “I don’t know if—”

  “You will be my dinner guests for the evening,” Grand Duchess Anastasia said, more forceful than before—no longer a request. “Papa never takes long to answer my summons. And you will need to speak with him about House Solovyev and House Lungin. I’ve heard him speak of them in strict terms.”

  Waiting around wasn’t Geist’s plan. She mulled over the new information and recalled her overall mission. She needed to get the last three houses out of Russia, and she needed to escort Heinrich to any and all research facilitates that required more technical assistance with magi-tech.

  They could wait to speak with House Solovyev and House Lungin until they spoke to the tsar, but there was no reason to delay speaking to House Menshov. Wasn’t it nearby? It’s in a city near Petrograd, she recalled. Perhaps we can visit them while we wait for the tsar.

  “We’ll stay the evening,” Geist eventually said.

  Grand Duchess Anastasia replied with a weak smile. Then she and the captain disappeared through a far door, leaving Geist with her team.

  Perhaps a single night’s rest would do them all good.

  “How embarrassing,” Battery said, shaking his head.

  “What’re you talking about?” Geist asked as she turned around.

  Battery, Victory, and Dreamer regarded her with shakes of their head. Vergess and Blick, on the other hand, merely shrugged.

  “You should refer to a grand duchess as Your Grace,” Victory said. “Only social equals—other members of Royal Houses—may address her as Duchess, and it’s just, well, embarrassing to say the full Grand Duchess.”

  Heat filled Geist’s face and she brought a hand up to cover her embarrassment. Her father had taught her all sorts of etiquette for dealing with German and Austro-Hungarian royalty, but never anything for the Russian Empire. The tsar and his family were “weak” and “pathetic,” so why bother learning any sort of formalities?

  Blick rolled his eyes and wiped away a fake amount of sweat from his brow. “I’m glad I didn’t have to speak with the duchess.”

  “You took the same etiquette classes we did,” Battery snapped. He rounded on his brother with a glare. “How did you forget Professor Winton’s manners and customs guide? Our father was a good friend to Grand Duchess Anastasia’s grandmother and on her mother’s side! We practiced this, for Pete’s sake.”

  “How can you remember all this?” Blick asked. “That old curmudgeon spoke with a monotone.”

  Servants from the palace hustled over to Geist, towels and warm water in hand. They bowed, said some things in Russian, and then motioned to the stairways. The promise of rest quelled all irritations with the situation.

  Sixteen

  The Tsar’s Family

  Geist leaned back on the couch and glanced around. The massive sitting room connected six bedrooms, almost as if there was a tiny house inside of the palace. Given the many pictures of foreign diplomats hanging on the wall, she suspected it was a common area used for high-ranking guests.

  “I don’t get the Russian Empire,” Blick said. He stared down at a bowl of water left by the door in their room. The silver container, half full of hot water, wafted steam. Hand towels and ointments sat nearby.

  “What don’t you get?” Victory asked.

  Blick crossed his arms. “Well, their insistence on giving us warm water, for starters.”

  “It’s to wash your hands.”

  “Thanks, genius. I got that. I meant, why would they think we need
to wash our hands while we wait for the grand duchess? Do they think we’re blood-soaked? Or maybe they think I’ll shake off my knob and then attempt to hold hands with the duchess.”

  “Blick,” Victory snapped.

  The two exchanged quick glances like only brothers could. Blick shrugged. “What? There aren’t any Russian here.” Then he turned to Geist. “And she’s heard worse when we all thought she had a knob.”

  Victory placed a hand over his face to hide the growing shade of pink. He mumbled something to himself before taking a seat in one of the large loveseats next to Geist.

  “You’re not offended, right?” Blick asked Geist, one eyebrow high.

  Geist narrowed her eyes. “We’re in the middle of Alexander Palace—the home of the tsar and his family. We shouldn’t risk offending them. It’ll jeopardize the operation. Keep the chatter about your knob to a minimum.”

  Battery shook his head. “This won’t be the last time you need to give that command.”

  With a long exhale, Blick motioned to the giant room. There were no threats, no enemies—not even any servants—it was just Geist, her team, and the amenities of a palace. The electric lights, hydraulic lifts, and modern architecture designs added to the futuristic and secure feel of their surroundings.

  Blick gave up with a huff. “I need a drink.”

  Dreamer, who had yet to reapply his illusions, sat on a small couch seat, his gaze glued to an electric lamp. He switched it on, then off, then on again, observing the bulb. A few times he rubbed his eyes, but otherwise he took copious amounts of notes in his faux book.

  “This palace must have been remodeled recently,” he said. “It was built in 1792, long before any of these luxuries would have been available.”

  Victory—recovered from his embarrassment—leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Do either of you still have a headache? Mine has been gone since we’ve arrived, basically.”

  “Ever since the grand duchess collapsed,” Geist said. “I’ve noticed it, too.”

  “Do you think it was her sorcery?”

  Geist wanted to say no immediately—no way her powers had been affecting them since they arrived—but Geist stopped before forming the words. What if it was the grand duchess? But why would she do it? What was the motive to harm the Ethereal Squadron when they were allies?

  The door to the common room opened, and Vergess jumped to his feet.

  A servant girl stepped in, a stack of clothing piled high in her arms. Defiant walked in behind her with a slight limp. He straightened himself as he approached the group and took a seat next to Dreamer. Although Geist expected him to react with shock to Dreamer’s appearance, Defiant said nothing—as though nothing were even out of the ordinary.

  “Excuse me,” the servant girl said, a fine British accent to her words. “But Grand Duchess Anastasia has requested you for dinner.”

  “All of us?” Blick asked.

  “O-Oh, I apologize. She only requested the presence of your commander. Everyone else is to dine with Captain Uthof of the Imperial Guard.” The servant girl walked into the room and placed the clothing on an empty couch. She separated each set with care. “These are formal evening attire, so that you’ll have proper garb for this evening’s supper. We have a seamstress who will fix the lengths.”

  Geist almost threw her head back and laughed. Only when visiting a Royal House would they think it necessary to make sure everyone was dressed properly for dinner. It was, for all intents and purposes, a complete waste of time.

  “Try to look at the bright side,” Victory whispered. “If we have favor with the grand duchess, I’m sure the tsar will be more willing to lend us his aid.”

  The servant girl bowed her head and left.

  Once alone again, Blick turned to Geist with a coy smile. “The grand duchess wants to see you alone? You’re a real charmer.”

  She shook her head. “Now isn’t the time for games.”

  “I bet the duchess asks you for a dance.”

  “For both our sakes, I hope she doesn’t,” Geist quipped.

  Battery turned to her, his brows knitted together. “Wait, you don’t know how to dance?”

  Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and stared. The collective silence bothered Geist more than the question. Of course she knew how to dance! It had been one of the many lessons taught to her by tutors from all around the world. That wasn’t the problem.

  “I’m sure the grand duchess will want a man to dance with her,” Geist drawled. “I was taught the steps for a woman. You can see how this will go poorly.”

  “Oh,” Battery muttered. “I hadn’t thought of that.” He tapped his chin for a moment before smiling. Then he stood and held out his hand. “Well, it should be a simple task to teach you the opposite steps. I can help.”

  Tempted by his offer, Geist got to her feet, though her whole body felt cold and distant. She didn’t want to risk exposing herself for some recognition from the tsar. She just wanted to complete the operation and leave.

  Battery kept his hand out, but Vergess pushed it aside. He stepped in front of Geist and held out his hands.

  “I’ll do it,” he stated.

  Of the two options, Geist preferred Vergess’s instruction. Then again, she didn’t want to learn how to dance in front of her squad. Stumbling around like a drunkard wasn’t high on her list of team bonding.

  Geist hesitantly placed her hands on top of Vergess’s. He turned them around. “You hold the woman’s hands,” he said. “You control what’s going on.” Then he nudged her, as if urging her to start the dance.

  The others got out of their seats, moved the furniture to the edge of the room, and then leaned against the wall. They watched with amused half-smiles—even Defiant, who squinted the entire time. It was enough to twist Geist’s stomach into knots.

  Please, God. What have I done to deserve this?

  She started with a few slow steps. Vergess urged Geist to go faster, even though they had no music to work with.

  Which meant everything happened in painful silence.

  While Geist enjoyed her close proximity to Vergess—especially since no one could complain—she couldn’t enjoy a second of the event. She stutter-stepped around, hesitated for a few seconds, and pulled Vergess along by the hands, knowing full well she looked like a childish amateur. I’m such a fool, she thought, unable to look Vergess in the eye for fear of ridicule and mockery. Why am I even doing this?

  For the past few years, she had trained, killed, and fought in a bloody war, yet the thought of playing the man in a ballroom dance was the thing that crippled her confidence. She had no idea what she was supposed to do, and half the time she continued to slip back into the role of the woman, secretly hoping Vergess would just take over so she could be done with the “lesson.”

  “Relax,” Vergess whispered.

  So damn easy to say.

  And it didn’t make things better that the others were muttering amongst themselves.

  Then Blick snorted. “You’re terrible.”

  Geist ripped her hands away from Vergess and turned away. “Yes. I agree. We should stop this.”

  “What?” Blick said. “We don’t want to risk offending the tsar and his family, remember?”

  Victory wheeled on his younger brother, a scowl that could wilt plants. Blick chortled, in no way intimidated.

  “You should practice,” Vergess said. “Just try again.”

  “Why don’t you try explaining what she’s doing wrong?” Dreamer interjected.

  “She can learn by doing.”

  “A proper teacher uses every tool to teach a student.”

  “Yes, well, perhaps explaining the dance isn’t my forte,” Vergess barked. “Why don’t you tell her?”

  Dreamer shook his head. “I don’t know how to dance. That wasn’t a skill taught to eunuchs.”

  “Then perhaps you shouldn’t offer advice on matters you know nothing of.”

  The odd argument g
ot the others tense. Vergess and Dreamer stared for a long moment, but after exhaling, both men turned away. Vergess returned his attention to Geist and held out his hand, ready to practice again.

  “Why don’t I try?” Victory said.

  He walked around his chair, one arm still in a sling, but he held himself like only a gentleman could. Then he offered his good hand and smiled.

  With his aristocratic upbringing, Geist figured Victory would know best. She exhaled and took his hand. The look Vergess gave her when she passed—it was fleeting—was like he wanted to object, but couldn’t.

  “You don’t need to worry about the grand duchess discovering your secret,” Victory said. “She won’t have her hands all over you. That’s improper.” He motioned to his hip. “You place your hand here. She will place a hand on your shoulder. And while you may come together in the dance, I doubt she will notice anything through the layers of formal clothing.”

  “Th-thanks,” Geist muttered. The simple explanation did put her at ease.

  Victory continued, “The key to leading a dance is to control everything from your torso—the core momentum coming from your center of gravity. The woman may be holding one of your hands, but she’ll feel the way you shift from your torso first.”

  When Victory swayed side to side, Geist felt the movement. It dawned on her then, like someone pulling back the curtains to reveal the truth. Dancing did come from the torso. Why had she been trying to pull Vergess by the hands? It seemed so foolish now.

  “You try,” Victory said.

  Although she still felt ridiculous, Geist attempted to lead Victory around the room. To her surprise, he began humming. Although she had never considered his voice soothing or lyrical, the pleasant melody he provided for their faux dance reminded her of a quiet evening in London she once shared with her mother and younger brother, Dietrich. It made it easy to keep pace and focus on the footwork. Much easier than silence.

  The others whispered among themselves, but Geist didn’t feel as ridiculous as before. At least I’m actually dancing.