Mother of Chaos (Princess Dracula Book 3)

by John Patrick Kennedy

“We will be at my house soon,” Kade said. “Is his man following us?”

  Ruxandra glanced over her shoulder, sniffed the air, and listened. “Just out of sight.”

  “He knows my destination.” Kade turned them around a corner. “He no doubt feels it unnecessary to keep us in sight.”

  “Are you going to side with them?”

  “If it becomes necessary,” Kade said. “I must retain access to the library. I will aid Anna as long as she supports us and does no harm to my friends. If things change, then I may have to remove her.”

  “How do we do that when she surrounds herself with secret police and their magic? Cannon?”

  Kade chuckled. “Tempting.”

  He kept going straight, leading them past one street, then another before making a final turn on a street running parallel to the wall. “Ah, there we are.”

  The white stone house looked like the other modern houses in the city, if smaller than most. Its front door and window trim were black. The curtains, Ruxandra noticed, were closed. She reached out with her mind and found the house empty. Kade produced a key and slipped it into the lock. It turned with a click, and he swung the door open.

  “Here we are.” He put his hands on Ruxandra’s arms, their bodies almost touching. “I want to thank you for all you did tonight.”

  Ruxandra shrugged. “I have been following you. Nothing more.”

  “You kept Alexi, who we now know is secret police, amused. You have the Alchemist enthralled. You made our friend, Prince Belosselsky, very curious. This is a city that runs on intrigue and emotion. The more stir we create the better.”

  “I see.”

  “So let me thank you properly.”

  And with those words, Kade leaned close and brought his lips to hers.

  Chapter 10

  Ruxandra’s eyes grew wide. She couldn’t move—surprise had rooted her to the spot. Kade’s lips pushed gently against hers, his hands light on her arms. He took his time before he pulled away. He saw her expression and stepped back.

  “Was that unwelcome?”

  “Not unwelcome.” Ruxandra said. But that doesn’t mean I was ready for it. “Just not what I was expecting, given the circumstances.”

  “Circumstances?”

  “Your friends want to summon a fallen angel and I’ll kill them to stop them?”

  “Ah. Those.” Kade smiled. “Then let us leave it, for tonight. Come inside.”

  A large part of Ruxandra didn’t want to leave it. Unfortunately that part was torn between telling him to never touch her again and picking up right where he’d stopped. In the end she did neither and followed him inside.

  The front hall had a marble floor, walls painted a gentle cream, and a staircase—wood, with intricately carved newel posts and red carpet over the risers—leading up to the next floor. A parlor stood on their left, a music room on the right. The light-brown couch and chairs in the parlor looked new and unworn. A large patterned rug covered the floor.

  The clatter of footsteps on hard wooden stairs filled the air. Ruxandra tensed, her claws coming out. Kade only smiled. A man and a woman in early middle age dashed into the front hall and skidded to a stop. The man had on a colorful vest over a plain white shirt and black trousers tucked into black boots. The woman wore a plain dress with an apron over the front. She carried a lantern in her hand. He bowed and she curtsied to Kade. They were both trim and scrupulously clean, and their minds held only eagerness.

  “Master!” the man said as he straightened. “Welcome home!”

  “Thank you,” Kade said. “And let me say how well you have kept it while I was away.”

  “Kade,” Ruxandra said, “who are these people?”

  “My caretakers.” He pointed. “Ivan Podsavich. He maintains the house, collects wood, buys candles, and makes any repairs needed.”

  He bowed. “My lady.”

  “His wife, Nika.” Kade handed the woman his cloak. She took it and then curtsied deeply to Ruxandra. “She cleans the house.”

  Nika curtsied again and bobbed her head.

  “We are very tired,” Kade said. “It has been a long night.”

  “Of course, my lord. The rooms are prepared, as always.”

  “Excellent. This way, Ruxandra.”

  She followed Kade up the stairs. Ivan bowed and Nika curtsied, their eyes fixed on their master as if he were their whole world. Ruxandra spotted scabbed-over puncture marks on their necks. She frowned but said nothing as she and Kade walked up the stairs.

  “Thralls,” Kade said over his shoulder. “Drained of enough blood to make them compliant. Elizabeth taught me.”

  “Why thralls?” Ruxandra asked.

  “I keep very suspicious hours,” Kade said. “Enthralling them saves me having to explain myself. It also makes them most excellent servants.”

  “Is it permanent?”

  “Two months,” Kade said. “If one drinks from them every month, a thrall can last for years. It provides very little sustenance compared to killing them, but then that is not the point. On the first night we searched for the magicians, I came here and renewed my bond with them. What Elizabeth neglected to tell me is that thralls can be controlled from a distance. You can even hear what they hear.”

  “Useful, for an assassin.”

  “Intelligence agent. Assassination is always a last resort. It has been amusing listening to a few of my enemies attempt to question Ivan and Nika. They appear to be the most loyal and stupid of retainers; they have distinct memories of me going out in the daytime, but they aren’t aware that there’s anything incongruous about such memories.” Kade led her to a red door. “This room is yours. The window is blocked, the curtains drawn, the bed made, and there is a fire in the fireplace.”

  “You made them do this?”

  “On our way here. Convenient, isn’t it? And no need to worry they will misunderstand my orders.” Kade took her hand, raised it to her lips, and kissed it. “Good night, Ruxandra. I will see you in the morning.”

  Ruxandra watched him walk to the other end of the hallway and step inside another room. She stepped inside her own, closed the door, and locked it.

  ***

  It was a pleasant bedchamber, albeit very red. A small fire burned in the fireplace. In front of it sat two red-upholstered chairs and a wood table finished in a red veneer. Red curtains hung from a large four-poster bed. A red-stained chest stood at the foot of the bed. A washstand with a jar and basin, both white, but with red swirls flowing over the porcelain, stood on a small lacquered red sideboard. Red towels lay folded beside them. The final touch, a red carpet with black and green patterns on it, covered the floor.

  Alexi, Anna’s secret policeman, was somewhere in the room.

  Ruxandra smelled him as plainly as if he were standing at her shoulder. She turned in a slow circle, searching for anything out of place. No one, visible or otherwise, was sitting on the bed. The upholstery on the chairs was undisturbed. The carpet underfoot showed no signs of anyone standing on it, nor was there a human-shaped bulge behind the thick red curtains that covered the shuttered windows.

  Ruxandra went to the washstand. She poured water—cold but not freezing—from the jug into the basin. Then she grabbed the basin, turned, and hurled the contents at the air above the chest. It hit something invisible and splashed.

  Alexi’s surprised yelp was quite satisfying.

  “Why are you playing this stupid game?” Ruxandra demanded in French. She picked up a towel, patted her face, and tossed it toward the chest.

  “Caution is how we survive.” Alexi’s voice and the towel both floated in the air. He whispered something in Russian and appeared before her. Water dripped from his hair, and a wet stain spread across his black jacket. She was pleased to see he looked annoyed.

  “I thank you for the towel,” he said. “Though tossing the basin was unnecessary.”

  “I suppose I should have ignored you?” Ruxandra hung her cloak up on the hook beside the door. “
Let you watch me as I change clothes?”

  “I would have spoken before that, Princess Ruxandra.”

  “Of course.” Ruxandra’s tone made it clear she didn’t believe him. “How did you get in here?”

  “The windows downstairs are easy to jimmy open.”

  “I’ll be sure to inform Kade.”

  “Please do,” Alexi said. “Also, tell him he can do nothing, nor see anyone, without us finding out.”

  Are you aware his servants are thralls? Do you have any idea what a thrall is?

  “Prince Belosselsky?” she said.

  “Exactly. Do you know the prince’s plan?”

  “I do not.” Ruxandra sank into the chair nearest the fire. She stretched her arms forward, enjoying the warmth on her skin.

  “Does cold affect you?” Alexi asked.

  “I feel it when the air freezes, or when my skin touches something cold, but it doesn’t hurt me.”

  “Unlike fire.”

  “Fire is pleasant when it is contained.” She pointed at the other chair. “Sit.”

  “If you wish.” He sat, his knees bent at perfect right angles, his back as straight as a knife blade. “How do you detect us?”

  “You must be joking,” Ruxandra said, echoing what he had said when she asked about his magic.

  Alexi smiled. “Fair enough.”

  “Why my room?” Ruxandra asked. “Why not bother Kade?”

  “You are the one about whom we know very little.” He arranged his jacket so the wet parts faced the fire. “We dislike not knowing things.”

  “‘We’ meaning the secret police?”

  “Yes.”

  “Unfortunate that I have nothing to say to you.”

  “How about we exchange information?” Alexi suggested. “You tell me something I don’t know, and I’ll do the same.”

  Ruxandra’s eyebrows rose at that. She considered telling him to leave instead, but there was a great deal she wanted to know. Alexi watched her thinking of it. She reached out for his emotions and found him calm and relaxed, as if he were chatting with an old friend. I suppose he cannot hide his mind when his body is visible, she mused. Or does he even know his mind is now detectable to me?

  “Fine,” she said at last. “Why does Anna want to summon a fallen angel?”

  “Is that what she wants?” He shrugged. “The empress’s desires remain a mystery.”

  “You said you would tell me.”

  “I said we would exchange.”

  “I like red wine better than vodka. Your turn.”

  “Moscow is renowned for the quality of its turnips. Please, Princess Ruxandra. Information, not trivia.”

  “I spent a hundred years roaming the woods as an animal.”

  “Interesting. How old are you?”

  “A gentleman never asks. Were the men watching us outside of the church yours?”

  Alexi frowned. “What men?”

  “Three of them. Two talking, one resting under a tree. They were there when we left.”

  “That was something I didn’t know,” Alexi said. “Thank you. Your turn again.”

  “Why does Anna want to summon the dark angel?”

  Alexi smiled again. “A gentleman never asks, especially of his empress.”

  Ruxandra growled. “Do you have anything useful to tell me?”

  “Four powers control Moscow.” Alexi’s eyes bored into Ruxandra’s with the words. “The empress, the church, the nobility, and the people. The people are uneducated, boorish, and prone to supporting whichever group offers the least suffering. Naturally the church is their first darling. The nobility is hated but feared by the people because of their wealth and soldiers. The empress tolerates them because their taxes feed her coffers. The empress is beloved and hated, depending on whom you ask. She is both powerful and weak—dependent on support from the people and the army. If a fifth power arises, she must control it.”

  “So the empress sees the fallen angel as a means to increase her dominance?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did she even know the magicians were going to summon it?”

  “We do have spies everywhere,” Alexi said drily, his dark eyes fixed on hers. “And one of them heard the plan.”

  Ruxandra sat back in her chair, turning away to watch the flames lick up the sides of the log in the fireplace. “What if the fallen angel won’t allow Anna to control her?” she asked softly.

  “It’s a she?”

  “It is.”

  “You know that how?”

  “We’ve met.”

  “Ah. I wasn’t certain. First, Anna would kill anyone else she thought was helping her. Then she would look for a way to take control by any means possible.”

  Ruxandra sighed. This will not make things easier. “I like predators.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  One side of Ruxandra’s mouth quirked upward at the confusion on his face. “I like hunting predators. They’re more of a challenge.”

  “I see.” Alexi’s eyes unfocused for a moment, as if he were storing the information away to use later. “Why do you think the angel can’t be controlled?”

  “Because on the night she made me, she stepped out of the circle they created as if it wasn’t there.”

  If her words affected him, he gave no sign of it. She wasn’t even sure if she had told him something he didn’t know. How much had Kade shared with the magicians? I must assume he knows all. He rose to his feet. “I shall leave you to your rest, Princess. I promise not to enter your rooms again without permission, except in great need.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If you will excuse me?”

  Ruxandra nodded. Alexi whispered in Russian and vanished from her sight. Ruxandra’s door opened and closed, and Alexi’s smell vanished from the room.

  I must bring my bag from Kade’s bolt-hole. Not that I have another dress, but cleaner clothes would feel nice. Maybe the Alchemist can help me buy new dresses. I might find something suitable to wear at court.

  In case I need to kill the empress.

  By evening the clouds were making good on their threats of rain. The cobbled streets of the enclave ran slick with water. The mud in the outer neighborhoods tried to suck down whoever stepped in it, like a hungry, living creature. It made walking slippery and messy, leaving Ruxandra’s boots coated and her dress splattered.

  Kade and Ruxandra went down to the church’s crypt and the narrow stairway that zigzagged deep into the earth. The mud on Ruxandra had dried into a thick crust by the time they reached the bottom.

  The Alchemist sat in the main room, a pile of books stacked on the floor beside her. Five more books lay spread in a wide circle across the table. In front of her sat a large sheet of paper with line after line of words written and crossed out. She had a small pen in her hand, the nib dripping ink as she chewed on its end. When the door opened, she glanced up.

  “Kade!” The Alchemist rose from her chair. “Princess! Welcome back. Shall we start . . .”

  She stopped, her mouth falling open. “Kade! How could you let this happen to the poor princess?”

  Kade looked Ruxandra up and down. “She is a little muddy, yes, but . . .”

  “You couldn’t summon a carriage?” the Alchemist demanded. “Where are her things? My princess needs a change of clothes.”

  “Your princess?” Ruxandra’s eyebrows rose. “I’m your princess now?”

  “Who else’s?” The Alchemist’s eyes roved over her body. “We are not the same size, especially in the chest, but I have a skirt and a sweater that should fit you. For underclothes we must wait until yours dry. Kade, tell the men that anyone who enters the baths gets their intestines ripped out, their faces sliced off and their testicles stuffed down their throats. Then it will be the princess’s turn.”

  The Alchemist strode away. Ruxandra suppressed a smile and followed her. The woman led Ruxandra inside and closed the door. Then she kicked off her shoes and undid the ties on her dress.


  “What do you think you are doing?” Ruxandra asked.

  “Bathing,” the Alchemist said. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had someone to wash my back?”

  Ruxandra shook her head, bemused.

  The Alchemist dropped her dress and pulled off her shift. The Alchemist’s hips stood out as sharply as her cheekbones. Her breasts were almost nonexistent, her nipples brown and thick and erect in the cool air of the bath. The muscles of her arms and legs were twisted wires under her flesh. Her stomach looked like a washboard above the wiry dark-blonde hair of her sex.

  She’s like a wolf, all muscle and bone. Warmth blossomed low in Ruxandra’s belly. And attractive . . .

  “Besides,” the Alchemist said, “I’ve inspected the male of the species, so I must examine the female.”

  Or not. “It that what I am? A specimen?”

  “A beautiful one.” She sat on the bench. If the marble felt cold on her flesh, she gave no sign. “Would you truly kill me to stop me from summoning the angel?”

  “Fallen angel.” The change of subject surprised Ruxandra. “Yes.”

  “Because you think it will . . . what?”

  “That thing is an abomination that doesn’t belong in the world.” Ruxandra let her fear and disgust come through in her words. “It turned me into this. It will do worse to you.”

  “You believe.” The Alchemist shrugged. “My dear, my life is no picnic.”

  “I’m not talking about what you have but what you are.”

  “If you don’t like what it made you, why don’t you kill yourself?”

  “I’ve tried. It doesn’t work.”

  “Interesting.” The Alchemist rested her elbows on her knees, cupped her hands, and put her chin in them. “And do you still wish you could?”

  Ruxandra was silent for a minute. “No. But it has taken me a long time to learn to control myself. There is much I regret.”

  “So say we all. Kade would not be happy if you killed us.”

  “He’ll forgive me.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “Time does wonders, he tells me. Give up summoning the fallen angel.”

  The Alchemist shrugged. “You haven’t given me any reason to, yet.”

  “Death isn’t reason enough?”