Immanuel's Veins

by Ted Dekker

  “This way. Come, come. And there’s no need to waste the journey to the tower, it will take us a few minutes and we could at least have some fun with words.”

  The initial threat she’d felt by the oddity of this man was fading, replaced by the realization that he was indeed only wanting to play, as he called it. As if he were a puppy sent to fetch her to the master.

  “No?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “No.”

  “Party pooper, then.” She had no idea what that meant and didn’t care to ask.

  The Russian led her through a dining room, then up stairs that circled a full rotation before landing at a richly appointed atrium.

  The duke’s wealth was apparent everywhere, from the original oil paintings to what were surely antiquities on shelves along the walls. The large brass chandelier alone might fetch a year’s wage or more. Perhaps much more.

  Royalty. Wealth beyond comprehension. The power to buy and sell countries and women. She found it all vaguely revolting.

  Her host made a great show of presenting her to the door, bowing deeply and sweeping his arm out in dramatic fashion. “The duke awaits, madam.”

  Despite the circumstance, she felt no threat from the man, only good nature. She could resist her revulsion.

  “Thank you.” With a slight curtsey. Then she immediately chastised herself and stepped up to the door. Before she could reach the handle, her host bounded up.

  “Allow me.” He gave the door a little shove.

  Lucine walked into a small, lavishly appointed library, built in the round. No sign of the duke Vlad van Valerik. The door shut behind her and she spun, startled.

  Nothing. The tower, as Johannes had called it, was lined with finely crafted wood. The smell suggested it was cedar. More paintings here, each illuminated with its own pair of candles, old portraits gleaming by the flickering light.

  “Welcome.”

  She started and whirled. The duke was seated at a desk that had only moments earlier been unoccupied. He leaned back and eyed her for a long moment, then spread his arms wide.

  “Welcome to my home, Lucine Cantemir. I am so delighted you chose to accept my invitation.”

  “I didn’t,” she said.

  “But you are here.” He stood. She’d forgotten how tall he was, a lean form perfectly fitted in black.

  “I came to find my sister.”

  “Then you shall.”

  The duke stepped around the desk and walked to the center of the room. “My home is your home.”

  “I have my own home.”

  Valerik smiled. “And a beautiful home it is.” He scanned the walls of his library, then walked to a bookshelf filled with leather-bound volumes. He ran his fingers along a row of spines, brushing them delicately.

  “Did your mother tell you who I am?”

  “She did. And I must tell you that it’s of no concern to me. I appreciate your interest, but I’m not of a mind to be courted by anyone not of my choosing, regardless of their status. I would like you to dismiss me and never consider me again.”

  “Appreciate is such a weak word, Lucine. Does my attention flatter you?”

  She thought about the difference between the words. “No, I don’t think it does.”

  Valerik faced her and his eyes showed not a hint of discouragement. She wasn’t doing this well enough.

  “The realization that I can give you whatever you desire, be it wealth or servants or property or power to rule, doesn’t interest you?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Then only a little. And that’s what I find irresistible about you. You aren’t a woman who rules her world. You are not easily beguiled by the first serpent who comes along. You are the daughter of Eve, pure and lovely, searching for that perfect Adam.”

  An interesting choice of metaphor, she thought.

  “Then you will understand why I have no interest in this serpent.”

  “Yes. But you are too naive. Your lack of knowledge is your only weakness. I’m the Adam, not the serpent, in your life.”

  “Don’t be so presumptuous. I know what I need to know, and I know that you’re a bewitcher of women. Where are Toma and Alek? I demand to see my sister immediately.”

  “She is being fetched already.” He walked closer and stood over her. She could smell the scent of lilacs on him. His chin was strong and his dark eyes haunting. “I would never presume to have your love, Lucine. If you leave my castle without any interest in me, then I will never call on you again.”

  Lucine wasn’t quite prepared for this approach of his. “Yes.”

  His hand reached for her hair. Long, strong fingers touched it gently as if he were coaxing silk from a cocoon.

  “But for a moment let me tell you about myself.” His voice was far too gentle for her image of him. He’s a witch, Lucine.

  She stepped away and ran her hand over the hair he’d touched. “Are you always so forward with women?”

  “I have not been with a woman in many years.”

  A lie, naturally. “But you fall for me the moment you lay eyes on me, is that it?”

  “No. However romantic, no.”

  “Natasha’s my twin. Surely she fancies you.”

  “But I have no interest in Natasha. The world is full of women who seek the first catch that comes their way. But not you, Lucine.”

  “So you desire me because I am your challenge. Like a trophy kill?”

  He smiled sheepishly, an odd look for him. She’d made royalty blush?

  “If that is what you think of me, I would rather take my leave and live in regret. You have misjudged me, my dear.”

  They stood facing each other until Lucine felt she must remove her eyes for fear that she might change her mind about him. It was how that terrible form of seduction worked, and she wanted none of it.

  But he would not give up.

  “Let me just tell you one thing, Lucine, before you go.”

  His eyes looked sad now, genuinely regretful.

  “If you will allow me, I will show you why I must love you and you alone. But if you do not allow me, then you must at least know that I will never again touch a woman without feeling vile regret for not being loved by you. My heart has been waiting for a thousand years. With my love you will never die. It is eternal.”

  There was such conviction in these words that each was a hammer upon her breast. Lucine could not move, could not breathe.

  “You are Lucine, and I am your Adam. We were made for each other. This castle is yours to do with as you please.”

  A knock sounded on the door.

  He waited for an extended moment, eyes on hers. “Come.”

  The door opened, and Lucine intended to see who it was, but her eyes lingered on his gaze another breath.

  “Lucine!”

  She turned to see Natasha rushing in, a flight of ghastly white flesh reddened with blood about her mouth. Her sister threw her arms around Lucine’s neck and hugged her close.

  “Dear Lucine, you came!” She held on like a slave freed from torture, body shaking as she wept with gratitude.

  Hot alarm crashed through Lucine. What beast had done this to her, the poor girl! Rage boiled. Vlad van Valerik was manipulative beyond measure!

  “I’m so sorry, Natasha! Forgive me, I should have come sooner— I wanted to but it wasn’t my place. Forgive me!”

  Natasha spun away and danced with arms spread wide. “It’s no matter, you are here now! I thought you would never join us.”

  Join us?

  Lucine blinked. She’d misread the situation. Her sister wasn’t tormented, she was in rapture!

  Lucine twisted back. The duke was gone.

  “Toma has come as well, Lucine,” Natasha cried. “Isn’t it wonderful? Did Vlad show you the castle? It’s magical, Lucine! Magical!”

  Lucine faced her sister, furious. “How can you say that? You look like death warmed over!”

  Natasha wore men’s clothing, shiny lea
ther pants and a red shirt without stays or a shift to make herself modest.

  “No, Lucine. I’ve never felt so alive.” Natasha rushed up to her and took her hand, kissing it. Then she rushed over to a door on the far side. “Is he gone?”

  It was rhetorical. They were obviously alone.

  Natasha faced her, calmer now. “I’m told that he loves you, Lucine. Is that true?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He doesn’t have a clue what love is.”

  “Then you’re a fool, Sister. I didn’t know true love until I came to the castle. There’s not a woman here who would not sell her body to the devil himself to be truly loved by the duke.” Natasha’s eyes were wide. “Don’t tell me, he approached you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I knew it! And you . . . you didn’t . . . ?”

  Lucine’s silence was her answer.

  Natasha threw her hand to her mouth in horror. “No, you didn’t dare turn him away!”

  “Of course I did.” But there was no conviction in her voice. “Look at you!”

  Natasha rushed up and took Lucine’s hand in both of hers. “You don’t understand! Do you know who he is?”

  “Some sort of royalty.”

  “Yes, but that’s not it. Do you know what that man is capable of?”

  Lucine wasn’t sure what she meant.

  Natasha stepped away, pacing, hands to her head. “Such a fool!” You’d think she just learned that the sky had fallen. “Think of Toma,” she said, twisting with urgency. “Hero of all Russia. No one compares as a warrior. Now think of Vlad, heir to the throne, a lover of the heart. Gentle and kind and raw and the father of a thousand children. If Toma is a god to his soldiers, Vlad is a god among all lovers. And you have just snubbed him?”

  “You’re overstating everything.”

  “I’ve said only the truth. You have it all wrong, like a country girl who’s offended by streets because the horses make too much noise on them. You are utterly naive.”

  “This from the girl with blood dried on her mouth. You’ve lost your mind.”

  “Blood? No, Sister, wine. The thickest, richest kind of wine from the duke’s own vineyard.” She wiped at her mouth and looked at her fingers. “It can make the lips swell if you’re unaccustomed, but even that is delightful.”

  “Then . . . ?”

  “You have it all wrong. All of it! You’ve made the single greatest miscalculation of your life. Ask Alek. Ask Toma.”

  “I can’t for a moment believe that Toma would be a party to this. He came here to rescue you!”

  “And instead I rescued him. He’s still here, isn’t he? And no worse off for the wear. Likely with that seductress, Sofia, last I saw anyway.”

  Lucine’s pulse spiked. “That whore?”

  Natasha laughed. “Nothing of the kind. If you only knew. While you run around trying to save the world, your Natasha and Toma are dancing with the angels.”

  Natasha looked at the books along the wall, then, suddenly distracted by them, turned and walked to the shelves. Like a child first discovering books, she ran her hand along them. “Isn’t it beautiful, Lucine? There is magic in this world after all.”

  But the thought of Toma with the Russian woman who’d visited their dinner table contradicted any notion of magic for Lucine.

  Natasha gasped and spun around. “If the one sister rejects him, perhaps he’ll find love in the arms of the twin.” She stroked the ends of her hair with thin white fingers. “I’ll dye myself a brunette and win him.”

  Was it possible Lucine had been so wrong about it all?

  “So you won’t go back with me?”

  “Never.”

  The blood was only wine. Valerik, a god among lovers. But surely Toma was not with the Russian seductress; Lucine could not accept that. It would only prove that Mother had been right about him.

  “And you really are well?” she asked.

  “Better than.”

  “But Toma is not here with that whore.”

  “Sofia isn’t a whore. I don’t know where he is.”

  Lucine paced, mind lost.

  “Tell me more, Natasha.”

  FOURTEEN

  I didn’t forget my honor in that den of smoldering seduction, but with each passing laugh my ease grew. Alek and I had traveled the world together, crossed seas, marched over countries, descended into the deepest dungeons, and climbed the highest peaks, but we had never experienced anything remotely similar to this. I began to understand the delight in his eyes.

  To say that I was of two minds would be wrong, because my core duty was not shaken. But happiness and pleasure are not always at odds with duty.

  Alek introduced me to the other two women—Marcel and Serena—who both came to me and kissed my hand before Sofia quickly reclaimed me with an arm wrapped around my neck. I didn’t have the heart to push her away because I saw that she felt threatened by the others. Perhaps Dasha was the stronger sister and was used to having her way, which might explain Sofia’s boldness.

  Alek bounded over to the shelf and poured wine into two brass goblets, which he rushed over to Sofia and me. “To Toma!” Alek cried, snatching his own from a side table.

  They lifted their drinks and tipped their heads to me, then drank. The wine was red and dry, an excellent variety.

  When I lowered my glass they were looking at me, smiling.

  I knew I had to engage them if only to lead and not be led, to regain direction myself. “So this is what you’ve found, Alek,” I said, looking about the room, which to me seemed to have no purpose but this lounging. “Revelry in the mountains with women, wine, song, and dance.”

  “Is that what you’ve reduced us to?” Dasha asked. “Objects of desire?”

  “Aren’t we all?” I peeled away from Sofia, set my cup on the table, and slid into a chair. She was immediately behind me, hands on my shoulders, kneading gently.

  “Alek,” Dasha said, lips twisted playfully, “help your friend understand who we are.”

  “They are the model of love. The pounding of the heart, the touch of lips. They are God’s gift to the world, to love as you would be loved, with intense affection.”

  “And so we are,” Dasha said. “God’s gift to the world.”

  I could see it, in a strange way. My mind drifted to Lucine and I wanted her to be with me now, here in this room. Only to hold her and tell her that I loved her and that I would die if she did not learn to love me. Only to woo her into letting me serve her and kiss her and waste my life for her.

  “. . . don’t you, Toma?” I had missed Sofia’s question. I wondered if the heavy scent of spiced incense was clouding my mind.

  “Hmm?”

  “Of course he does!” Alek leaped over the back of the couch and landed on the cushions. “Who in their right mind would not? Sit here, Toma.”

  Dasha joined him and Sofia tugged at my shirt, so I stood, rounded the couch, and reclined there. Three sofas formed a box that faced the fireplace. The others slid over the sofa backs with the ease of cats and tucked their legs under themselves or sprawled out, heels on the table between us.

  Sofia curled up against me, and Dasha with Alek, one arm around his neck, lightly stroking his cheek. The other two women pressed close to Simion, one on each side.

  “I really should be going,” I said.

  “Nonsense,” Alek said.

  “Please stay awhile,” Sofia purred. “If not for our pleasure, then for the sake of Russian royalty.”

  “Royalty?”

  They looked at each other and Alek made the point. “You don’t know? The duke is part of the royal family. Where would you suppose all of this came from? He’s a potential heir to the throne, Toma! Valerik is a very important man here.”

  Alek was delighted. I was horrified.

  Royalty? Surely this was not who Catherine had in mind! My head reeled with revelation. It took the wind out of my voyage to save Lucine from a suitor who might be at odds with the empress.


  If Vlad van Valerik was indeed a royal . . .

  But the empress had not specified any suitor. Until she did, I was right to ward off any suitor who might upset Catherine’s choice. Just because Vlad was a royal didn’t mean he was the one the empress was dealing with.

  Still, the man I considered a potential enemy was more closely linked to the empress whom I served than I myself. In fact, it could one day be him that I served. Perhaps I’d been too hasty in my judgment.

  On the other hand, I loved Lucine, and I could no longer contain that love.

  I thought then that I really needed to learn more about these Russians. So I began asking questions, simple ones, only to hear them talk about themselves.

  They came from Russia, but from the world over before that, drawn together by Vlad, an ensemble of like-minded creatures who valued love and liberty and the pursuit of happiness above duty and honor.

  Vlad’s wealth provided all. Most of their supplies came from the west, Wallachia and Transylvania, on large weekly shipments drawn by horse over the pass.

  The conversation rolled on in muted tones, entirely different from the ringing that had egged Natasha on in the ballroom upstairs. I could see where Alek and Natasha had found different groups, one reveling in song, the other infused with an opiate that slowed their movement and kept them satiated.

  They lived in the wells of each other’s eyes.

  By rote they played with each other’s hair and ran their fingers over skin, as if they could only think if in contact with at least one other human. Without any prompting they would lean over and kiss their lovers’ lips or ears.

  I had the distinct perception that Dasha and her friends were so burning with desire that had they not been relaxed with wine, they would try to devour me. Sofia had warned me about them.

  Yet I felt no threat from them. Everything they did began to look and feel natural to me. After all, they were simply men and women in need of love and loving. I might not agree with the arrangements between them, but I neither knew nor cared to judge the nature of those arrangements.

  Alek had given himself to Dasha, heart and soul, and he looked delighted to demonstrate that fact for me. Rather than feel concern for him, I was glad for his joy.