Mother of Chaos (Princess Dracula Book 3)

by John Patrick Kennedy

  Princess Khilkoff crossed her arms over her bare breasts, one hand dropping to cover her sex. Ishtar looked at her body, disdain on her face.

  “Now I see why Delfino complains about you.” Ishtar grabbed both the princess’s wrists and pulled them above her head. “Ugly, skinny, no real tits, and no muscles to hold a man’s weight.”

  “Ishtar.” Ruxandra hissed the word. “That’s enough.”

  “I say when it’s enough!” Ishtar pressed her knife against the princess’s throat. “This bitch tried to kill me. The only reason she’s not dead is that Delfino wants her alive.”

  Ishtar stepped back and tossed the knife away. “You’re his spare broodmare, Princess, in case something happens to me. I suggest you let him mount from behind, so your ugly face doesn’t make him wilt.”

  Her hands curled into fists.

  “Now it’s time for your real lesson.”

  “Ishtar, no!” Ruxandra jumped forward to stop her and found she could not.

  She wanted to, tried to, but her body would not respond, would not touch Ishtar. Inside her the Beast growled, feeling Ruxandra’s frustration.

  Ishtar gave Princess Khilkoff a brutal beating, fists smashing into the woman’s ribs and stomach and breasts. Princess Khilkoff fell and twisted and tried to crawl away. Ishtar caught her foot and dragged her back. She pounded on the princess’s kidneys, then grabbed her hair and turned her over.

  “Ishtar,” Ruxandra begged. “You’ll kill her. Stop.”

  “No, I won’t.” Ishtar smiled down at the princess. “But she’ll wish I had.”

  She knelt on Princess Khilkoff’s chest and started on her face.

  Goddammit. I must stop her.

  Ishtar aimed her fists to do the most damage possible. The princess’s nose broke with a crunch, spraying blood. Her eyes swelled and closed. Her cheekbones and eyebrows split, leaking more blood.

  “HELP THE PRINCESS!” Ruxandra screamed the command. “EVERYONE COME HERE AND HELP! NOW!”

  For one second Ishtar fixed Ruxandra with a gaze so angry that Ruxandra felt her stomach curl in on itself. Then she rose to her feet and strode out of the alley. Ruxandra ran after her.

  “Make yourself visible,” Ishtar snapped. “I won’t talk to a ghost.”

  Ruxandra turned noticeable and walked beside her, mouth closed tight.

  “I don’t understand your anger.” Ishtar walked around the corner and headed for Kade’s house. “Do you think I should have killed her like that scum you dispatched three nights ago?”

  “How did you—”

  “The secret police follow you, Ruxandra. They report to the empress, and she tells me. So explain, Ruxandra, how is that any different than what I did?”

  “I killed him,” Ruxandra said. “He died in less than a minute. What you were doing to her—”

  Ishtar’s head tilted. “Do you not understand what happened, Ruxandra? She is a traitor. She tried to murder me so she could secure her claim to the throne if Anna is assassinated, solely by virtue of having the right man’s cock between her thighs.”

  “Why not kill her, then?” Ruxandra demanded. “And don’t tell me your promise to Delfino prevented you.”

  “I did better than kill her.” Self-satisfaction oozed out of Ishtar’s words. “I cowed her. What I did will give her nightmares for the rest of her life. I made it so she doesn’t trust herself and doesn’t trust Delfino. I’ve put fractures into their alliance and weakened their attempt to destroy Anna. If she is still stupid enough to ally herself with Delfino after that, then she will die on the scaffold beside him.”

  Ishtar put a hand on Ruxandra’s shoulder and turned her so they were face-to-face. “Things are coming to a head, Ruxandra. You need to either leave or pick a side: mine or theirs.”

  Yours? Not Anna’s?

  Ishtar stepped around Ruxandra. “Now, I believe Kade’s house is nearby. I want to wash the blood off.”

  She didn’t get a chance.

  A black carriage stood outside Kade’s house, pulled by four black horses. A driver in black sat on the seat. Alexi leaned against the doorframe, talking to Kade’s manservant, Ivan.

  When Ivan’s eyes grew wide, he turned. If the sight of Ishtar, covered head to foot in blood, with bruised, bloody knuckles, made an impression on Alexi, he didn’t show it.

  “There you are.” Alexi stepped to the carriage and opened it. “The empress requests your presence.”

  “May I wash first?” Ishtar asked.

  “She said it was urgent.” Alexi’s tone was bland, but he didn’t move from the carriage door and clearly expected Ishtar to get in. “Something to do with the Metropolitan and his continuing riling up of the peasantry against Her Majesty and your lack of success in stopping it.”

  “Of course.” Ishtar stepped into the carriage. “Ruxandra, think on what I said.”

  Alexi climbed in behind her, and they drove off, leaving Ruxandra alone in the streets.

  “The master will not be home today,” Ivan said as the carriage left. “He hopes to see you tonight.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ruxandra sat in the chair in her room, staring at the empty fireplace. Nika came in, curtsied, and started a fire. Ruxandra nodded to her but didn’t move.

  Am I truly no better than Ishtar?

  She’d killed the man in the alley as a gut response to what had happened to the Alchemist. She’d been angry and hungry and had given her fury free rein.

  So how am I different from Ishtar?

  Well, she probably wasn’t hungry . . .

  It was ridiculous thing to giggle at one’s own jokes, especially after such a night. She still couldn’t stop, which told her she wasn’t thinking clearly at all.

  Ishtar planned it.

  The thought stopped Ruxandra’s giggles.

  She said she read the minds of everyone in the Kremlin before she changed, which means she knew how Khilkoff would react. She slept with Delfino to goad her into attacking.

  Ruxandra took off her clothes, climbed into bed, and stared at the ceiling.

  She never planned on killing the princess. She wanted to humiliate and disfigure her . . . why? To make their coup come apart?

  Or to make it happen faster?

  She found no answers and turned over to sleep, hoping to talk to Kade the next night. But when evening came, he had still not returned.

  Ruxandra was getting hungry, and could feel the Beast grumbling. She dressed and walked to the outer city, looking for someone to eat. To her surprise the streets glowed with torchlight. Men stood in groups, carrying knives or clubs or shovels—anything they could use as a weapon. The kabaks did a brisk business, but no one stayed for a second drink. Houses were shut tight, and reaching out with her mind, she felt fear radiating from the adults, and confusion from the children still awake.

  The churches shone like beacons, the warm yellow light of their candles spilling out their open doors. Ruxandra drifted closer to one and looked. The priest shared communion with a long line of men.

  “Is it true?” one man asked another. “The vampir are in the city?”

  “They’ve killed a dozen people already. Remember Yazon Washko?”

  “That beast who liked to rape women in the alley with a crowd watching? Death was too good for him.”

  “His blood was drained, they say. And he was not the first. Kirill’s grandmother, too.”

  “Kirill’s grandmother was older than the North Star,” a third man said. “A strong wind could have killed her.”

  “Yes, but her blood was drained, too. And now the priests know where it is hiding. That old church that the empress doesn’t allow anyone to use. It’s in there.”

  Ruxandra sprinted across the city and ran straight into a company of the empress’s army.

  Fifty men in uniform stood in front of the door, muskets at the ready, bayonets fixed. Torches, jammed into the surrounding earth, lit them red and yellow, hollowing out their eyes and cheekbones, making th
em look like standing corpses.

  Alexi was at the top of the church steps, looking at Ruxandra.

  She circled the men and joined him.

  “They cannot see you, I take it?” he said under his breath, nodding at the men.

  “Not unless they have the same magic you do.”

  “They do not. Is the church’s mob coming?”

  “Not yet, but soon. Are they inside?”

  “The Alchemist. Not the others.”

  “I should get her out.”

  “You should stay with her,” Alexi said. “No one has discovered the passage for three hundred years. I doubt anyone will tonight, but we have the empress’s orders to keep them from going inside and looking.”

  Ruxandra looked at the grim, scared men in their neat ranks. “People are going to die.”

  “I know.” Alexi looked out into the night, searching the street for rioters. “I suggest you go below. We cannot have the Alchemist coming up in the middle of things, can we?”

  Ruxandra smelled something burning the moment she started down the stairs. She ran, fear for the Alchemist driving her faster than any human could move.

  A thin layer of smoke floated in the library air. The Alchemist’s crucible, charred and split, sat in the center of the destroyed chalk circle. Water and footprints had smeared the neatly drawn lines and obscured the writing. Three empty buckets lay on their sides outside the circle.

  The Alchemist sat on the floor, weeping.

  Her clothes were burned and her hands red and swollen. Tears tracked gray trails through the soot and burns on her face. Ruxandra reached out for her emotions and found a dark pit of anger, despair, and misery.

  The Alchemist saw her and put on a small, fake smile. “Good evening, Princess. How are you?”

  “What happened?” Ruxandra asked. “It didn’t work?”

  “Oh, even worse than not working,” the Alchemist said. “My tiny, beautiful crucible melted. It split and the lead spilled onto the floor. I had to douse the flames with water, which, of course, ruined everything.”

  “I am so sorry.”

  “No need.” The Alchemist sounded brittle, as if the slightest blow would shatter her. “Nothing has changed. I am still the same. I have no gold, I have no hope, and I am doomed to serve the bitch empress until she decides she no longer has a use for me, after which she will torture me to death. Everything is fine.”

  “Come,” Ruxandra said. “We need to clean you up.”

  “Why? A burned slave works just as well.”

  Ruxandra scooped the Alchemist up in her arms, holding her gently to not make her pain any worse. Up close, the scent of her made Ruxandra’s stomach and the Beast in her skull growl with anticipation.

  Shut up, both of you. We have other things to deal with first.

  She carried the Alchemist to the baths and put her on the bench.

  “Stay here,” Ruxandra said. “I will return in a moment.”

  Ruxandra left at top speed, fetched a change of clothing from the Alchemist’s room, and sprinted back. The Alchemist hadn’t moved. Ruxandra filled a bucket of water and took up a cloth. Then she undressed the Alchemist. The skin on the Alchemist’s breasts and ribs had turned purple and green from her beating. The welts on her back had gone down, but the bruises from the lashing still stood out against her pale skin.

  “Stand up,” Ruxandra said, “put your hands on the wall.”

  The Alchemist did. Ruxandra knelt at her feet. She cleaned each one, then started up the Alchemist’s legs. She kept her touch gentle and smooth. The Alchemist didn’t respond, not even when Ruxandra reached her backside. Ruxandra gently ran the cloth over her back. If the bruises still hurt, the Alchemist gave no sign.

  Then, when Ruxandra’s hands wrapped around the Alchemist’s stomach, the woman leaned back against Ruxandra. Ruxandra kept her hand motions gentle as she worked up to the Alchemist’s breasts. And when the Alchemist turned her head to kiss her, Ruxandra met her with an open, welcoming mouth.

  When their lips parted, the Alchemist whispered, “I don’t want to stay here anymore.”

  “Then we’ll go,” Ruxandra said. “Come, I’ll take you to Kade’s house.” And farther than that. When I leave Moscow, I’ll take you with me.

  The Alchemist dressed, and they walked up the stairs. Noise, faint at first but growing louder, filled Ruxandra’s ears. It grew loud enough that even the Alchemist, with her human hearing, stopped and listened.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  “Shouting,” Ruxandra said. “A lot of it. The priests called on the people to march. They think a vampire lives in the church. At least there’s no sound of battle yet.”

  “Yet?” The Alchemist’s eyes went wide. “Are you expecting one?”

  “The Metropolitan has stirred the peasants up, and there’s a company of the empress’s soldiers at the church door.”

  “We should go the other way.”

  “We can’t.” Ruxandra took the Alchemist’s hand. “Anna warded the Kremlin against me. I can’t enter it, even from the tunnel.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Remember how I surprised you? When you hold my hand, I can make it so you aren’t noticed, either.”

  “Really?” Despite her misery, the Alchemist sounded intrigued. “However did you learn that?”

  “I once had to smuggle my servant out of a castle before they beat her to death.”

  Ruxandra could smell the Alchemist’s fear and kept a tight grip on her as she led her up the stairs, through the church, and out the door.

  The men Ruxandra had seen claiming the vampire lived here had come, led by a priest, with a hundred others beside them. They shouted and jeered and demanded to be let inside. The soldiers’ muskets pointed forward now, their bayonets gleaming in the torchlight. The crowd stayed back, kept at a distance by three priests who exhorted them to stay calm. They yelled and threw bottles instead.

  Ruxandra led the Alchemist out the door. Alexi glanced at them once, nodded, and turned back to the crowd. It grew louder, but didn’t advance. Together, both unnoticed, the women made their way through the streets crowded with peasants. Some marched, others talked, some stood around looking frightened. They blocked every major street corner and the bridges to the inner city.

  “We’ll get through,” Ruxandra said before the Alchemist could open her mouth.

  The Alchemist looked nervous but muttered her thanks. Ruxandra sniffed the air for Anna’s men, but didn’t catch any familiar scents.

  Halfway across the road to the bridge, Ruxandra’s feet stuck in place.

  Chapter 21

  No! Not now!

  The Alchemist took two steps past and jerked to a halt, her hand still caught in Ruxandra’s. She turned back, frowning. Her expression changed the moment she saw Ruxandra’s face.

  “Princess?” the Alchemist said, concern filling her voice. “What is wrong?”

  “I can’t move my feet,” Ruxandra whispered. She glared around her, unable to see the magicians from the crowd. “Someone is attacking me.”

  “Who?” The Alchemist turned in a circle. “I can’t see. There are too many people.”

  “Look for people not moving,” Ruxandra said. “People chanting, maybe. I don’t know what they do.”

  “How can you not know?”

  “I can’t see them!” Ruxandra bent down, the movement made awkward by her anchored feet. She extended the talons on both hands, dug deep into the earth, and pulled. She pulled up two handfuls of dirt and straightened. She clenched the dirt in her right hand, compressing it.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready to fight.”

  “Who?”

  “Magicians. There’s four of them—that’s how many Alexi used—but I can’t see them.”

  “Why can’t you—” The Alchemist cut her own words short. “Magic, that’s why.”

  Ruxandra breathed deep, taking in all the scents around her, and scanned the
crowds. They are here somewhere; I just have to find them.

  A gap in the crowd cleared the intersection. Ruxandra breathed deep, caught four scents still in place. Two more sniffs and she had a rough idea of where they stood. She also caught more scents not attached to bodies she could see, coming closer. Two men reeking of steel and gunpowder and fear.

  “There is a man at each corner.” The Alchemist whispered the words. “And two coming toward us.”

  “Stand behind me.”

  The Alchemist did. “What do we do?”

  Ruxandra twisted in the direction of one of the four stationary scents and hurled the handful of dirt in her left hand. It smacked against a body, and for a moment outlined part of a man in its dust.

  When Ruxandra had doused Alexi with water, she’d done it out of irritation. But doing so had shown her that, while she could not touch someone protected, that didn’t mean she couldn’t hit them.

  The dirt she’d compressed with her right hand was hard as a rock, and she hurled it with all her strength. It smacked the center of the outline and Ruxandra heard bones crack. The dust-covered outline dropped to the ground, and Ruxandra was free.

  She grabbed the Alchemist, tossed the woman over her shoulder, and ran.

  The Alchemist bounced on her shoulder as Ruxandra weaved in and out of the crowd, moving fast and unnoticed. The Alchemist clung to her without a sound. Ruxandra jumped to the low roof of a house, used it to jump onto a taller one, slid down the other side, landed on a street free from the crowd, and ran to the city wall. She jumped it and kept going.

  Ruxandra finally stopped at the far edge of the outer city, in the shadow of a barn. They were far away from the crowds, far away from the fires and the noise. She put the Alchemist down, and the woman promptly fell, her legs folding under her like paper. She sat on the ground gasping.

  “That was amazing,” the Alchemist gasped. “And I never want to do it again.”

  Ruxandra breathed deep. She could smell no one nearby. “Can you see anyone?”