Blackest Night

by Stephanie Hoffman McManus

  Another nightmare.

  Nikolai cradled him to his chest, murmuring hushed, soothing words, until he began to hum softly. Then he sang. His voice was low and deep, the tone so rich I closed my eyes to listen. The words were in what I guessed was Russian, the melody slow and hauntingly beautiful. It didn’t sound like a sweet happy song, but maybe it was just his voice that made it so haunting. My chest actually ached, the words I didn’t even understand evoked something in me. Or maybe it wasn’t the song, but the man who sang it. The man who could sing, and I mean really sing. I never would have guessed that. But then, I guess I didn’t really know him. I probably should have slipped quietly out the front door and left them. I wasn’t even there anyway, not really, not in that moment. It was just the two of them. A father comforting his son, and I was some sort of voyeur, watching it, but I couldn’t help myself. I was rooted in place.

  This Nikolai was a mystery to me. I didn’t have him all figured out, because he wasn’t the asshole I knew. This Nikolai was almost. . . human. And that was dangerous, because if he became human to me, then it would be harder to hate him. Humans weren’t just one thing. They couldn’t be summed up in just one word, like asshole, or bastard. Humans were complicated and flawed, but there was usually something redeeming beneath all that. I didn’t want to think that Nikolai had any redeeming qualities. I wanted to despise him wholly. I wanted my hatred to be simple and pure.

  Nothing about him was simple though.

  It became apparent to me just how awkward it was that I hadn’t left when Nikolai scooped a, once more, sound asleep Eli into his arms and carried him upstairs wrapped in his fuzzy, worn blanket, and I was left standing there.

  Did I leave now? Would that be more awkward?

  I had the door cracked when I heard Nikolai’s footsteps descending the stairs. He stopped on the bottom step and stared at me. I let the door fall closed.

  “What was that song?”

  “One my mother used to sing to me.” I was surprised he answered me.

  “It sounded sweet, but maybe a little sad.”

  “Mostly sad,” he said, and then added, “A warning like most Russian lullabies, but Eli likes it. He doesn’t know the language.”

  I dropped my gaze to the floor briefly, unsure what to say next. Ten minutes ago, I hated him more than I’d ever hated just about anyone, and now . . . I was pretty sure I still hated him, but I was confused about what else I was feeling.

  “Look,” I sighed, meeting his stony gaze again. “Whatever I said about what you’re teaching him . . . you’re a good father.” He didn’t say anything, but maybe, just maybe, his expression softened a tiny bit. Or maybe that was just idiot me looking for something there that wasn’t. “Anyway, goodnight.” I started to turn and pull the door open again.

  “He didn’t break you, Cassie.”

  I stilled.

  “You said you wanted to know if you could still feel, as if he might have broken you, or broken that in you. He didn’t. The fire is still there. You still have passion inside of you. I can see that even though we do seem to bring out the worst in each other.”

  I let myself out without saying anything and drove home in silence. I was tired, and I couldn’t stop playing over what Nikolai had said. All of it, but mostly that last bit. It almost sounded like he cared, which went against pretty much everything else he’d ever said to me. I blew out a deep breath and mumbled to myself, “Forget about him.”

  Tomorrow I was off, and I could sleep in and take the day to do whatever I wanted, Nikolai be damned. I’d probably spend it at home catching up on laundry and contemplating my future while watching Lifetime movies with Grandmama.

  Aside from dinner tonight, I’d hardly seen her the past few days, but for the few minutes I stopped by home after work to change and chat before leaving again to watch Eli. She was in bed by the time I returned at night and we passed only briefly in the kitchen in the mornings before I left for work.

  This two-job thing was exhausting.

  All I wanted to do when I made it home was fall into bed.

  My clothes hit my bedroom floor first thing, and then that’s exactly what I did. It took my mind just a little longer to shut down and turn off all thoughts of this evening and Nikolai. Once it did, I slept soundly.

  In the morning, Grandmama dragged my butt to service, since it was a rare Sunday that I was off, and afterward we stopped off to pick up groceries to make galbi jiim for dinner, and then I spent the rest of the day in my yoga pants helping Grandmama with the housework, which looked a lot like us folding laundry on the sofa to Lifetime movies, as predicted. We made dinner and while we cooked she wanted to know more about Elijah and Nikolai. She hadn’t completely given up on the idea of cooking for both of them.

  She also wanted to talk about my love life, which I suppose was to be expected after she’d been at church to see all the other granddaughters and nieces and girls my age properly matched up. I was only twenty-two and sometimes she acted like I was turning into an old maid before her eyes.

  “What about the boy’s father? Would he be good for you?” she asked over dinner.

  “Nikolai? No, Grandmama, he wouldn’t. We don’t complement each other at all.”

  “That’s a shame. I can see you’ve taken quite a liking to the boy.”

  “He’s a good kid, and you saw how sweet he is last night.”

  “But his father’s not sweet? You can’t tell me he’s not handsome. I can tell that just by looking at the boy.”

  “Sure, he’s good looking, but no, he’s not exactly what I would call sweet.”

  “Then what would you call him?”

  A lot of things, none of them I would say in front of my grandmother. I settled on, “Difficult.”

  “Difficult?” she hmphed. “Your grandfather could be difficult at times.”

  I sighed, “He was married once before, I don’t think he’s in a hurry to try it again.”

  She waved her hand and pffted, “A man rarely knows what he wants until you show him.”

  “Grandmama, he’s not right for me. We’re not right for each other. We don’t get along at all.” The conversation ended when I gathered up our dishes and carted them off to the kitchen where I did the cleanup while Grandmama made her way into the living room.

  I didn’t hear from or see Nikolai and Elijah at all over the next two days. I honestly didn’t know if I was relieved or disappointed. Nothing when it came to the Markov men was that simple.

  Wednesday morning, Emily popped into the shop during my shift to talk business with Nora, and I discovered that’s where Eli had been going the past two nights.

  “Coffee, I need coffee,” she groaned. “I had Eli until late last night, and this morning Nikolai’s schedule changed, so he dropped him off at six. Ugh, there’s not enough coffee in the world to make that hour decent. I hope he gets his nanny situation figured out soon. I like the kid, but I like him much better after the sun is up. I like everyone much better then.”

  “Poor, baby,” Nora looked at her apathetically. “Try getting up at four.”

  “Hell, no. That’s why our partnership works perfectly.”

  I listened to their conversation while I made drinks for two customers who stopped in on their way to work. A third came in behind them, and stood off to the side, perusing the overhead menu.

  “Well, don’t worry, he asked me to help him interview nannies this week,” Nora told Emily. “We’re going to do it here after lunch hour on Friday. I guess he found a few promising potentials in the emails the agencies sent him.”

  “I don’t know if I can do six a.m. all week,” Emily whined.

  I handed the drinks to the two young guys in suits, and then the girl who’d been eyeing the menu stepped up to the counter with a sour look on her face. It remained during the entire two minutes we interacted between her placing her order—quite snippily, I might add—and me handing her the fruit smoothie. She must not have been a morning person e
ither, or she had the worst case of resting bitch face I’d ever seen. She took her smoothie and her scowl with her.

  Emily dragged herself out the door, coffee in hand, not long after, and one of our part-timers, Jill, showed up for her shift. The three of us worked through the midmorning rush and into lunch time, but I can’t say that it went smoothly. I was not having one of my better days. I messed up three drink orders, knocked over a carton of almond milk, dropped a dozen lids and spoons on the floor, and forgot to put the lid on the coffee grinder twice while using it. My brain was not focused on my job today, and Nora was picking up on it. I got the distinct feeling that she was waiting for an opportunity to pull me aside for a conversation. I did my best to stay busy and not provide her with that opportunity, but after I screwed up someone’s change, she banished me to the tiny kitchen and put me on dish duty.

  I was rinsing coffee cups and little plates to be loaded into the dishwasher when she joined me.

  “What’s up? It’s like your head is somewhere else today. Is everything okay with you? You’ve seemed a little off all week.” She wasn’t in boss mode; she was in concerned friend mode and I wanted to tell her the truth, but still I heard myself lying.

  “Sorry, I’m fine. I guess I’ve just been a little distracted and stressed. I dropped off resumes at a few places and am waiting to hear back.” Internally I cringed. It wasn’t a very good lie. And I hadn’t gotten around to dropping off those resumes. So, not only was I a liar, I was a pathetic one, destined to pour coffee forever.

  “Oh,” her face scrunched up, “you sure that’s it?”

  No, that wasn’t it, but I couldn’t tell her the real reason I was distracted. She wouldn’t understand. I didn’t even understand what was going on with me, or why Nikolai was occupying my head space. I hated him, I definitely hated him, but I also . . . didn’t? At least, that wasn’t all I felt. My heart rate and body temperature spiked every time I thought about Friday night. A shudder ran down my spine right there in the kitchen as I remembered his hands and mouth on my skin. I hated him, but my body still wanted him, and the little organ inside my chest didn’t know how to reconcile the warring emotions, leaving me twisted up and confused.

  And something felt . . . unresolved about the way we’d left things. It bothered me. More than it should have. But I couldn’t tell any of this to Nora, so I told her, “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m just in a weird place, trying to figure out what’s next for me and what I’m going to do with my life, but I’m sure I’ll hear from one of the places soon.” If I ever got around to taking those resumes around.

  “Okay, well you know I’ll give you an amazing reference. I’ll be sad to see you leave, but of course you’re meant for bigger and better things.”

  Was I really, though?

  “Run this load through and then you can take a fifteen.”

  I finished in the kitchen and ditched my apron before grabbing a cupcake from the case—because, chocolate. If that couldn’t make me feel better, could anything? Fresh air beckoned me outside. The sun was shining brightly through the partly cloudy sky, beating back some of the fall chill that tried to creep in. I parked on the bench that sat on the corner of the block and watched the passersby also enjoying the pleasant weather we were having this late in September. It wouldn’t be long before everyone was bundled up and they were all making mad dashes to escape the weather. The cold and the rain were coming any day now.

  A black suburban pulled up to the curb outside the shop as I was picking crumbs—all that remained of the cupcake—from the wrapper. I ignored the vehicle until a familiar face moved into the periphery of my vision and I did a double take. It was Nikolai. He was opening the back door for someone. I immediately recognized Riley James as she climbed out. She had a baseball cap and big sunglasses on, but there was no mistaking her.

  Nora wasn’t going to like this. Riley James had contacted her more than one time requesting a sit down so Riley could “get a stronger feel” for the character she was portraying. Nora had told her no on every occasion. Nora waned nothing to do with the movie, yet Riley didn’t seem inclined to accept that.

  Nikolai’s eyes found me as he scanned the street. Our gazes locked. For a second, his face registered surprise, and then his eyebrows drew together, and his mouth pulled into a tight line. He ushered Riley inside and I stared at the wrapper in my hands, wishing I had another cupcake.

  More movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. A lanky, balding man, with a camera slung around his neck and a bruise under one eye, approached me. I turned warily to him. His eyes kept darting toward the shop windows. “Did you see? Was that Riley James that just went inside?”

  At the mention of the well-known actress’ name, the handful of people that were standing on the corner waiting for the bus, turned their attention our way.

  “I don’t think so,” I told the man who was clearly some sort of paparazzi. “Just some girl and her boyfriend.”

  The small bus crowd was still watching us, and now the man with the camera was looking more closely at me, his brow furrowed as if he were trying to place me. That was my cue to get out of here. I tossed the cupcake wrapper in the trash bin next to the bench and stood.

  “Wait a minute . . .” The sound of the shutter clicking away started before I knew what was happening. “You’re Cassie Rogers.”

  “No, I’m not,” I argued futilely. He blocked my way and continued to snap that damn camera in my face.

  “Tell me, what was it like finding out your boyfriend was a serial killer? Were there signs you missed? Did he like to choke you in bed? Did he ever ask you dress up in a red wig?” The questions kept coming. They were nothing new, but I’d had about all I could take recently, so when he continued to block my way, I shoved him hard enough to make him stumble backward.

  “Hey,” he protested. “I’m just doing my job, lady. I know several outlets that would love an exclusive story from you. Let me set something up.”

  “No. Now get the hell out of here before I go tell the guy working security for Riley James that there’s a skeezy slime ball out here who wants to get his ass kicked.”

  “I knew it was her,” he muttered and then I could see him mentally debating whether to try and get closer to the shop windows for a chance at more shots. His slimy gaze fixed on me again. “The guy with her, big guy with black hair? Tattoos all over his arms?”

  “That’s him. And he’s a mean bastard,” I added. The guy’s hand reflexively went to his bruised face. I had to wonder if Nikolai was the one responsible for the guy’s injury.

  He grumbled something and then tucked tail and slinked away down the street. I’d still warn Nikolai the man was out here somewhere, but I was glad he was gone for now. The group at the bus stop, who’d watched the entire thing unfold, were still staring, although a few of them quickly looked away when I caught them.

  One woman didn’t though. Short, a little overweight, probably in her thirties, with dark roots growing out, indicating it’d been a couple months since she had her bleach job touched up, and eyebrows that had been overfilled. She watched me with an upturned nose and a sneer on her lips. Her friend was saying something to her in a low voice that I couldn’t hear, but I could guess from the way this woman shook her off and then folded her arms across her chest in challenge at me.

  Normally, I would just walk away, but for whatever reason, in that moment I found myself unable to let it go. “Can I help you with something?” I snapped at her.

  It was just the thing she’d been waiting for. “How do you live with yourself, knowing your boyfriend killed all those girls?”

  “Janna, don’t.” Her friend shot me a nervous look and tried to pull her away.

  “No,” Janna shook her off again and took a step toward me. “All those poor girls are dead, and she was fucking the guy who did it. You can’t tell me she didn’t know he was twisted. Maybe if she’d just turned the guy in, they wouldn’t all be dead. I don’t know how you live
with it. You should just go kill yourself.”

  Whatever fight I’d had, drained out of me. I knew arguing with her wouldn’t do anything. Her mind was made up about me. Hell, I doubted she was the only one. This woman was just the only one who had the guts to say it to my face. She spewed more shit at my back when I turned to walk away.

  You’d think I’d be immune to it by now. I’d heard worse, been called worse. Still, I felt the tears track down my cheeks. I brushed them away and ducked my head as I slipped back inside the shop. I wasn’t looking and nearly crashed into Nikolai, who was on his way out with Riley James in tow.

  “Still can’t resist me, can you?” Nikolai chuckled, steadying me with his arms on my shoulders. His grin was wiped away when I looked up into his face, wiping away the last tear I would let fall.

  “Fuck you,” I rasped out through the tightness in my throat. He looked almost startled, but I jerked away from him and hurried to the back of the shop, keeping my head down.

  “Cassie,” he called after me, but I ignored him and continued to the back. I couldn’t deal with him right now. Not on top of everything. I was over today. I just had to get through the remaining hour of my shift.

  It dragged at a snail’s pace, but that was probably because I was watching the clock. I swore at one point, time was even moving backwards. Nora, mercifully, let me go fifteen minutes early. My relief was short lived.

  “What the hell?” I muttered, stopping several feet from my car. I looked around and then back at my car, making sure it was my car. It was. And across one of the windows in, was that lipstick? I walked closer. Damn it, it was. In dark peach lipstick someone had written ‘whore’ on the window. Not as dramatic as if they’d used red, but I was still pissed. Probably that woman from the bus stop, but how she’d known which vehicle was mine, I didn’t know. I dug through my purse for something to clean it off with. All I had was a bottle of water. I unwound my scarf and wetted it. I used it to wipe at the window, but all it served to do was smear the lipstick. I dumped more water on the window and scrubbed furiously.