The Gathering Storm kt-1

by Robin Bridges

  I stared at the portrait, silently willing the tsar to come forth. Did I dare attempt to conjure the Grand Master on my own? I shuddered, with a sick, cold feeling in my stomach. No. I would never do such a thing.

  Yet he alone could tell me how to save the members of the Order. My brother would be safe.

  The sound of footsteps stopped my heart. I backed up against the wall, wishing I were still cloaked by the shadow spell. I tried to hold my breath, but gasped in surprise when I recognized Grand Duke George Alexandrovich approaching the portrait of Tsar Pavel.

  He heard me and drew his saber immediately. “Show yourself!”

  I took a step closer to him, my hands out. “Your Imperial Highness.”

  “You!” he snarled in a low voice. “What are you doing here?”

  “I would ask you the same question,” I hissed back. “Are you not here to speak with the ghost of the dead tsar?”

  He put his weapon away but still frowned. “You have no right to be here! I insist you leave immediately.”

  “But the members of the Order are in danger!” I said. “If the tsar’s ghost can offer any advice …”

  The grand duke shook his head. “There is no need for you to taint the halls of Vorontsov Palace with your dark rituals. The ghost walks on his own.”

  A chilled breeze swept through the hall. I saw wisps of spirit flowing from the portrait. “Look,” I whispered, taking several steps backward. Even the grand duke stepped back cautiously, managing to put me a little behind him. I was not sure if he was trying to protect me from the ghost or trying to protect the ghost from me.

  The powerful tsar stepped outside his painting, all seven feet of him. His white-hot eyes stared down at both of us. “Who disturbs my vigil?” he bellowed.

  The grand duke stood at attention. “I am George Alexandrovich Romanov, son of Tsar Alexander the Third.”

  I bent my head. “I am Katerina Alexandrovna von Oldenburg, Your Imperial Majesty. We’ve come to tell you about the Knights of the Order. They are in great danger.”

  The tsar roared, his spirit quickly forming flesh and bone. I took another small step backward as the grand duke glared at me.

  “Tell me more of this danger to my knights,” the ghost tsar said.

  “Three knights of the Maltese cross have died since the new year.” I did not think I needed to mention that one of them had been turned undead by me. “And there have been several grave robberies, all of them belonging to Knights of the Order.”

  Grand Duke George spoke up. “We fear the vampires, Your Imperial Majesty.”

  “The supreme enemy of the knights is the House of Bessaraba, descendants of the Dragon,” the tsar bellowed. “Find the Dragon’s descendant, Koldun, and you will find their enemy.”

  Koldun? That was a word Maman had used to describe ancient Russian wizards when she’d told me bedtime stories long before. But I had never heard of the House of Bessaraba.

  “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty,” the grand duke said.

  The tsar turned toward me. “You are very brave, young lady, for seeking me out in the darkness of night. I can see that you are protected by the shadow. But you must be strong, and not give in to the shadow’s seduction.”

  “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty,” I said, frightened and bewildered by what he said. I remembered Maman’s tarot cards and her dream. “Can the bogatyr return to fight the House of Bessaraba?”

  The seven-foot-tall ghost laughed. It was a terrible laugh. “Do you know what you ask of your living tsar?” he said. “To invoke the bogatyr means to accept an enormous physical burden. Though the bogatyr imparts supernatural strength, the tsar pays a great price. It is … debilitating.”

  The grand duke simply bowed his head. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.”

  Tsar Pavel began to pace in front of us. “The living tsar has more problems than he realizes. Cursed members of the Order are rising from the dead, blood drinkers are stalking young girls, even the wolf-folk are running loose on the streets of St. Petersburg. The House of Bessaraba and its allies are growing too strong.” He spun around and looked at the grand duke. “Why is the Bear so soft on the Dark Ones?”

  My head was swimming. Wolf-folk? Dark Ones?

  The grand duke was silent, but I saw him stiffen.

  “Koldun, we must not let the Dark Ones win.”

  “I understand, Your Imperial Majesty.” The grand duke clicked his heels together and inclined his head slightly.

  “In the meantime, you must pledge to me that you will protect this girl.” He nodded toward me. “Her powers place her in great danger from the House of Bessaraba.”

  “Your Imperial Majesty,” I said hurriedly, “that is not really necess—” But I was silenced by the tsar’s frosty stare.

  “I pledge to protect her with my life,” the grand duke said grimly. “I serve at the pleasure of the tsar.”

  “As do you, young necromancer,” the ghost tsar said. “You must be prepared to summon the bogatyr if he is needed.”

  “I do pledge this, Your Imperial Majesty,” I said with a curtsy, even though I had no idea what he meant.

  “Good.” The tsar looked at us both. I saw the grand duke’s shoulders relax slightly, even though he still stood at attention.

  It was time for the tsar to return to his resting place. He turned and walked back to his portrait, his boots sounding heavy beneath him. Just when I thought his corporeal body would bump into the wall, he disappeared into the painting.

  I suddenly wished I’d asked the ghost about the Dekebristi. I asked the grand duke instead.

  “It is not possible,” he said. “Those not executed were exiled to Siberia. The vampires and their minions are forbidden to return.”

  “But what if they are behind the attacks on the Order? Who else would rob graves?”

  “The tsar said to find the descendant of the Dragon.”

  “How will we find him?”

  He didn’t answer, and I knew that he wasn’t going to tell me. I knew too that he would honor his pledge to the tsar and protect me, even if he despised me.

  “Let’s go,” the grand duke whispered. His black cloak swirled around him as he walked, surrounding him in his own waving shadow. “We must leave quickly.”

  “My carriage will be outside.”

  “In the middle of the night?” He rubbed his forehead, an action I’d seen his father do often when he was weary of his social obligations. “Your life is in danger,” the grand duke said. “You must stay at home, where it is safe. The House of Bessaraba will not be able to harm you there.”

  He put his hand on my arm to drag me away. “Hurry, Duchess.”

  I heard footsteps in the hallway behind us. The young guard I’d seen earlier must have woken up and resumed his duties. We did need to leave quickly.

  My mother’s carriage was waiting for us outside the chapel gate.

  “Hurry!” the grand duke shouted to the driver as he ushered me inside and climbed in after me. We sat across from my mother and my cousin.

  Dariya had told Maman that I had received a message to meet Petya at Vorontsov Palace and had hurried ahead of them to find out if he was in danger.

  “Katiya!” Maman cried. “You should not have done anything so foolish! You were fortunate the grand duke was there to look out for you. Where is Petya?”

  “He received orders from the general and had to leave,” the grand duke said, catching on quickly.

  Maman seemed surprised and a little nervous to have the tsar’s son in the carriage with her, and she spoke the whole ride home about our planned trip. “We will probably be in Biarritz for the rest of Lent, and most of spring,” she said, fanning herself with a paper fan made with pressed lilacs. “I hope we will see your mother at the ball tomorrow night so we may say our goodbyes.”

  Grand Duke George nodded politely. “Of course, Your Highness. And what takes you away to France this early in the season?”

  Maman looked at me. “Katerina h
as not told you? Our Katiya has argued with her fiancé and broken off the engagement. We must leave St. Petersburg to ignore the scandal.”

  Dariya snorted in a most unladylike fashion.

  I wanted to vanish like the ghostly tsar right then and there. The grand duke had no business knowing about my engagement—or ending of the engagement. But he seemed very interested.

  “You shall not be marrying the crown prince,” the grand duke said thoughtfully. Our carriage was drawing nearer to Anichkov Palace. As the carriage slowed, he told the driver he wished to accompany us to Betskoi House, as he wanted to see us home safely. The carriage driver nodded and drove on.

  “Your Imperial Highness, that is not necessary,” I said.

  “I have given a promise. And so have you, Duchess.”

  I sighed. Maman was staring out the window into the darkness, and Dariya had fallen asleep against her. “Why did the tsar call you Koldun?” I asked in a low voice.

  “I cannot tell you. It is a secret only for the members of the Order to know.”

  “But I thought a koldun was a sorcerer. Why would he think that you were—”

  “Do not ask me again.” His voice was soft, but firm.

  I kept my voice low, even though Maman seemed to be dozing off now as well. “You are to be the Grand Master, then, when your brother becomes the tsar,” I said softly. Although much of the inner workings of the Order was secret, Grand Duchess Miechen had once said that the Grand Master of the Order was a sorcerer, who performed the arcane rituals that protected the knight-commanders. If she knew who the current Grand Master was, she kept that secret to herself.

  “Yes,” the grand duke said, closing his eyes. He looked tired, and I had the urge to comfort him.

  I wished there were something I could do to help him. “I promise I will never tell another soul.”

  The grand duke merely nodded.

  The carriage approached Betskoi House, all dark except for the lamps at the entrance. The grand duke helped my mother and cousin out of the carriage. “Thank you, Your Imperial Highness,” Maman said. “We are so grateful for your escort. Our carriage will see you home.”

  The grand duke turned to take my hand. It was awkward, for just a moment, and then he was the tsar’s son again, regal and overbearing. “I must ask that you not return to Smolny in the morning,” he said. “When do you leave for Biarritz?”

  “In a few days, Your Imperial Highness.”

  “Will you stay here at Betskoi House until then?”

  “I cannot promise that. Maman and I have provisions to deliver to the hospital, and we must say our goodbyes to Princess Cantacuzene and the grand duchess Maria Pavlovna.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You know that the grand duchess Miechen is a very dangerous woman. As is her friend, Cantacuzene.”

  “They are friends of my mother.”

  “Cantacuzene is a descendant of the House of Bessaraba.”

  That stopped my blood cold. “What?” I whispered.

  “Katerina!” Maman was standing inside the front door. “Hurry along! It is freezing outside!”

  I ignored her. “Her family is the enemy of the Order?” I asked the grand duke.

  His smile was grim. “You truly should pay more attention to the ancestry of your friends. Cantacuzene, the Montenegrins. You and your mother travel in some rather nasty social circles, Duchess.” He closed the door of the carriage, and our driver headed back to Anichkov Palace.

  I stood in the snow, chilled from the inside out. There was something ominous about the darkness now that the grand duke had left. The night seemed to be pressing in on me. I raised my hand and examined the obsidian ring more closely. Exactly what kind of black magic did it contain?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Of course I didn’t stay home as the grand duke had instructed. Of course I went to see the grand duchess Miechen—without Maman. I wanted to ask her more about the princess Cantacuzene.

  Dr. Kruglevski was leaving the Vladimirichi Palace. He smiled when he saw me. “Duchess Katerina Alexandrovna!” he said in greeting. “What a pleasure!”

  “Good morning, Doctor,” I said, alarmed to see him. “Is the grand duchess ill?”

  He shook his head. “Not at all. But I shall let her tell you the news. How are your parents?”

  “They are well. Papa is excited about his plans for his new medical institute. And we shall travel to Switzerland this summer to look at the medical schools there.”

  “Excellent! Good day to you, Duchess.”

  I hurried inside and up the stairs to the grand duchess’s parlor. I waited as her servants announced me.

  “Katerina Alexandrovna, what a delight.” The grand duchess did not exactly look pleased to see me. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “How is your mother?”

  “She is well, thank you. And you are well? I saw Dr. Kruglevski leaving.”

  “Yes, I am fine, my dear. As are the babies.”

  “Babies?”

  She smiled slightly, though the smile did not reach her eyes. “They are due in the fall.”

  “Congratulations, Your Imperial Highness. I did not know. Twins? That is wonderful.”

  The dark faerie’s youngest child, Helena, was already seven years old. Her oldest, Kyril, was thirteen. It must have been a surprise to find herself expecting again. She sat down in the velvet chair opposite me. “And what has brought you here today?”

  “I need to ask you about Princess Cantacuzene,” I whispered. I was never sure when the princess would be at Miechen’s palace. This would not be a good day to run into her.

  “Yes?” the grand duchess said, turning to pour herself some tea. From the side, I spotted a slight swelling in her belly that I had not noticed before. “What can I tell you about the princess?”

  “Her lineage,” I said, holding my breath. “Is she a descendant of the House of Bessaraba?”

  “Of course, dear.”

  I felt cold and slightly nauseated. I grabbed the chair in front of me as the room tilted slightly.

  “Do you know the history of the House of Bessaraba?” Miechen asked.

  “Only that its descendant is the person responsible for killing the members of the Order of St. John.”

  “Indeed?” the grand duchess asked. “Where did you hear such a thing?”

  I did not think the grand duke George would want me to let Miechen know exactly how I had come across that information.

  Miechen’s violet eyes narrowed like a cat’s as she stared at me. “Then you do not know that one of Princess Ruxandra’s ancestors was Vlad Dracul of Wallachia.”

  I almost dropped the cup of tea she had given me. “No,” I whispered. Princess Cantacuzene was a vampire. She was their leader. “You have been protecting her secret from the tsar?”

  Miechen nodded. “I am bound by an oath. But now you have discovered it on your own.”

  “Why would she want members of the Order dead?”

  “She must believe them some sort of threat. She and I will discuss this. I will not allow it to continue.” The dark faerie’s face was grim.

  “She wanted me to kill Prince Danilo.”

  “So you told me before. It would be the most prudent way for her to deal with the Montenegrin threat. They are close allies of the tsar.” Miechen stirred her own tea thoughtfully. “And Princess Militza is an ambitious young blood drinker, who wants to rule the St. Petersburg bloodline.”

  “But what about Princess Elena and the tsarevitch?”

  “Somehow, I do not see that union coming to pass, no matter how fond the tsar is of King Nikola. Elena is still a blood drinker, and the Romanov line cannot be tainted with their like.”

  I must have breathed a sigh of relief, because Miechen smiled. “You perhaps thought of marrying the tsarevitch yourself?”

  “Mon Dieu, no!” I said, blushing. “I would never want to be empress.” I shuddered, imagining the burden. “Besides, I believe the tsarevitch has already found his bride.”
>
  Miechen smiled. “Do you have a touch of the faerie sight as well? You have a precarious situation, child. Your future is very unclear to me. I wonder what you will do with your gift.”

  “Why does the tsar allow the Romanian vampires to live in St. Petersburg?”

  “A truce that his grandfather Nicholas made with the most powerful vampire house. The House of Bessaraba is strong enough to keep the other houses in line.”

  “How many houses are there? Does Princess Cantacuzene rule the Dekebristi?”

  Miechen shook her head. “The Dekebristi minions do not exist anymore. But the House of Bessaraba has absorbed many of the smaller families, especially the Bulgarians and the Moravians. There is a small family of upyri in Siberia, but they are watched carefully by the Old Believers. And there are the houses in Rome, India, Egypt.”

  I shuddered, wondering how many blood drinkers there were in the world. I had heard before of the Old Believers, who kept to the beliefs of the Byzantine Orthodox Church. “Princess Cantacuzene told me about the Dekebristi,” I said. “She said the wife of Grand Duke Konstantin Pavlovich was a vampire and had created the Dekebristi from members of the Order of St. John.”

  Miechen nodded. “But I imagine she did not tell you Konstantin’s wife, Johanna, was also from the House of Bessaraba.”

  “She was related to Princess Cantacuzene?” A chill slid down my spine.

  “Distantly, or so she has told me. Johanna was defeated with the Dekebristi by Tsar Nicholas.”

  “He had summoned the bogatyr,” I guessed. Why did they not teach us the true version of history in school? It would be ever so helpful.

  “Yes, and that is why you have become so valuable, Katerina Alexandrovna. Only a necromancer can evoke the bogatyr for the tsar. The Koldun is forbidden from performing such rituals. The Dekebristi would kill you to prevent the bogatyr from being summoned. If they still existed.”

  Now I did not know who to fear more—Princess Cantacuzene or the Montenegrins. Or the Dekebristi. I had planned to visit Princess Cantacuzene, to say goodbye to her before we left for Biarritz. I had never felt threatened or in danger when I was with her. I could not imagine the aged princess drinking someone’s blood. She was too elegant. Too delicate. And yet I remembered Princess Cantacuzene’s tale of the veshtizas. They were beautiful women who turned into insect-like creatures and sucked the blood of sleeping victims.