by Jane Kindred
Vashti thrust me toward the far exit where the demons had not
THE FALLEN QUEEN 297
yet surged into the drawing rooms beyond it. My eyes were harsh with
smoke and I held Ola to me, covered in her blanket. The Nephilim
were losing the battle, and the workers swarmed into the room. There
was no longer anyone between them and the rulers of Heaven.
I gave up and ran with Vashti, leaving behind the room that held
the ghosts of my family’s corpses—leaving my cousin to his madness.
And leaving to history the unhappy end of the fallen House of
Arkhangel’sk.
298 JANE KINDRED
Dvadtsat Vosmaya: Flights of Angels
The streets around the square had descended into utter
pandemonium. Vasily wielded his sword like a scythe, cutting a swath
through the crowds as he carried Belphagor, but there was only so
much clearing he could do before the chaos pressed in again. From
the shifting of his weight, he knew Belphagor was drifting in and out
of consciousness. He had to get him out of this mess.
Doubling back and bypassing the palace grounds altogether,
he took the narrow side streets to the boulevard that flanked the
tributary encircling the Palace District and entered the square from
the south through the newly constructed Arch of Triumph. Beyond
the sea of peasants, through a haze of heavy air that at first his firespirit senses didn’t register, the eaves of the Winter Palace were lit with an aethereal glow.
The palace was on fire.
Vasily stilled, nearly losing his grip on Belphagor. Surely Knud
and Vashti must have had enough time to get Anazakia out. Darting
his gaze about, he spotted Dmitri on the edge of a group of Grigori
pushing back a snarl of demons.
“Dmitri!” He tightened his grip on Belphagor’s thighs and jogged
over to him. “Have you seen Knud and Vashti yet?”
Dmitri turned toward him, his mouth open to answer, and then
gaped at his burden. “Chto za blyadstvo! What the hell have they done to him?”
Belphagor stirred at the touch of Dmitri’s hand on the side of his
THE FALLEN QUEEN 299
head. “You don’t look so hot yourself, barkhotka.”
“Bel… ” Dmitri bit his lip when Belphagor’s head went slack
against Vasily’s shoulder. “Did he just call me a twink?”
“He’s a little out of it.”
“A little.” Dmitri shook his head in dismay and peered around
Vasily to get a closer look at the wounds. “Damn. Khrystos.”
Vasily couldn’t think about how badly Belphagor was hurt right
now. If he did he’d lose his mind. “So what’s going on? Where are the
Nephilim?”
“They breached the entrance to the family wing successfully, but
we haven’t seen them since. And now that the workers have broken
through the main gate, nobody can get close.”
“Shit.” Vasily needed to get in there. He couldn’t stand by in this
insanity and hope the others would rescue Anazakia. He bent his
knees to pull Belphagor’s arms from around his neck. “Take him for
me. Keep him safe until it’s time to open the breach. I’m going to catch up with Knud and Vashti and get Anazakia out of the palace.” He let
out a low growl. “And I’m going to kill His Supernal Majesty.” He
lifted Belphagor’s shackles, but Dmitri shook his head.
“We’ve got to open the breach. I’ve told my people to fall back
and spread the word.”
Vasily let Belphagor’s arms slip back over his collar, heat kindling
behind his eyes. “We are not going without her!”
“There’s no more time. The Nephilim may have her secure for all
we know, but if we wait any longer, reinforcements will be here from
the Queen’s Army, and we’ll have a total bloodbath on our hands.
We’ll leave the breach open as long as we can. The Nephilim can still
make it out.”
“If you think I’ve come all the way here—”
“Look at him, for fuck’s sake!” The sudden boom of Dmitri’s
celestial voice startled Vasily into shutting up. “Belphagor is why
you’ve come all the way here. You have to get him home. Do you
think I want to face him when he finds out I let you charge into that
deathtrap? Do you have any idea what you did when you left him? Do
you have the slightest fucking idea?”
“What the hell do you know about it?”
300 JANE KINDRED
“I’ve known Belphagor for a long time and I’d never seen him
like that. The way he looks right now? That’s how he was emotionally.
I didn’t give him sanctuary last year when he asked for it because he
was a worthless drunk the last time I saw him, ready to drink himself
to death over you, and frankly I didn’t need the headache. And if you
want to know the Heavens’ honest truth, Lev and I never really got
what he saw in you. You’re sullen and ill-tempered and totally self-
absorbed.”
Vasily stared at him, speechless, too stunned to be angry.
“And hot,” Belphagor murmured against his shoulder. “Totally
hot.”
The words were punctuated by a rumble of sound that shook the
square and rolled toward them in a wave.
Vasily hoisted Belphagor higher on his back. “What the fuck was
that?”
Dmitri shook his head, peering through the chaos. And then they
saw it: a mushroom cloud of fire—it was the only way Vasily could
describe it—billowing from inside the palace and spreading outward.
With a wave of his sword, Dmitri signaled the group waiting to
open the breach, the fierce orange light reflecting from his blade.
“Now, dammit! Open it now!”
Demons screamed and ran from the wall of fire. Vasily watched
them in a daze, wracked by the colliding waves of fury and regret.
Anazakia was in there somewhere—the mother of his unborn child.
His last words to her had been the outburst of a foolish tantrum. And
now he’d lost her.
Beneath the sudden storm of Grigori radiance, the chants and
thunder swallowed by the roar of fire and the shrieking of demons, the elements split and swirled, and the vortex opened. Nephilim, Grigori,
and demon peasants alike plunged into it, disappearing from the
sphere of Heaven.
And then he saw an ebony-skinned Nephil racing ahead of the
flame toward the far side of the breach, her jacket wrapped around a
smaller form beside her—someone with a head of golden honey curls.
Vasily grinned. Sonofabitch. Knud had done it.
§
THE FALLEN QUEEN 301
Dimly conscious of the chaos around them, Belphagor clung to
Vasily, momentarily jarred by an inadvertent touch into agonized
awareness. What mattered was the warm body beneath him, the sweet
smell of kindling Vasily seemed to exude that he’d feared he’d never
breathe again.
Light glowed ahead. Belphagor thought vaguely it must be dawn,
but when they reached it, he saw Heaven itself had opened. The
brightness was the sundered elements swirling at the edge of the gap,
a tear in the fabric of the spheres.
Vasily paused on the edge of the vortex and sheat
hed his sword.
“Hold your breath, Beli.” He leapt into the empty void between the
swirling elements, and Belphagor held his breath and let them pass
through him. Vermillion fire gushed from Vasily’s shoulder blades and
into the air around them like a volcanic eruption, the brilliant wings spanning the darkness in the pre-dawn sky of the world of Man.
Belphagor exhaled and held on tight, his arms once more around
his malchik’s collar. He’d seen Vasily’s radiance sparked a number of times—had sparked it himself for the pleasure of taming it—and
once or twice had seen the splendor of Vasily’s wings, but never from
between them. The radiance bathed him in ruby light and heat, not the
acidic fire of the Seraphim, but a comforting, radiant warmth. He was
dizzy with pain, but this heat soothed and calmed his screaming flesh.
“Anazakia,” he remembered as his mind drifted toward
unconsciousness. “In the palace. We have to… ”
“Knud found her.”
“Knud?” Belphagor suspected he’d already drifted off. Perhaps
this was all a dream and he’d wake once more under the knut. Perhaps the similarity of the sounds of those two words had invoked the gypsy
in his mind.
“Knud and the Nephilim,” said Vasily. “They found her. They’ll
bring her.”
“Nephilim.” Belphagor rested against Vasily’s shoulder. Yes, this
was most certainly a dream. A lovely dream. Perhaps his last. He
inhaled Vasily’s scent once more, the pleasant aroma of burning wood
stronger between the pennant wings. A brilliant pink dawn was rising
in the east, and Vasily was a stain of it across the sky.
302 JANE KINDRED
“And they’ll bring the baby,” Belphagor murmured, and closed
his eyes.
Vasily clutched Belphagor’s arms to his chest before he lost his
grip. “The baby?”
“Your daughter.” It was as peaceful as floating on a tropical ocean
to glide this way over the earth, warm breezes whispering over his
tortured flesh. “She looks like you.” Belphagor smiled against the
dream. “Though not too much like you, thank goodness.”
THE FALLEN QUEEN 303
Dvadtsat Devyatoe: The House of Arkhangel’sk
from the memoirs of the Grand Duchess Anazakia
Helisonovna of the House of Arkhangel’sk
Vashti had guided me through the crowd of rioting peasants
and besieged Ophanim toward a group of dark-clad demons at the
perimeter of the square. Before the half-constructed building, a
swirling maelstrom circled—a shining lake of ice and fire. Vashti pulled me toward it, and I balked, clutching Ola.
“Into the breach!” she shouted. “Hurry! It’s the only way!”
I held onto Ola with all my might as Vashti hurled me into the
pit. We were falling, plummeting toward the world of Man, and then I
remembered my wings and flung them wide behind me. The wings of
the Nephilim were a sea of black gossamer billowing around us, and
we were lifted on the current, soaring like a dark storm over the skies of Russia.
We descended over Arkhangel’sk, the summer banks of the Dvina
green against the deep sapphire of her northern waters. I’d forgotten
it was summer, that life had gone on. I’d been thinking of the icy grey Arkhangel’sk I’d left. The sun soared high above, though it wasn’t
necessarily an indicator of time.
Our nephilic storm brought with it real rain that struck the ground
as we descended in the countryside. We ran through the downpour
along the road to the dacha and reached the gate at last to see the
garden profuse with drenched tea roses and wildflowers. The perfume
of the rain-fresh garden and the wet earth and wood, though I would
304 JANE KINDRED
never have thought it in such language before, was heavenly.
I dashed with Vashti into the house, where a chorus of cheers and
applause greeted me. The sitting room and kitchen were packed with
demons, wet and disheveled, some wounded, but all grinning at me as
if I myself had fought the forces of Heaven.
“What is all this?”
“Your army, I guess.” Vashti gave me a rueful shrug. “It started out
as Belphagor’s army, but much as I hate to admit it, the Fallen seem to know a true queen when they see one.”
I was baffled, but the mention of Belphagor pushed all else aside.
“Belphagor,” I gasped. “He was in the prison—”
“He’s safe upstairs,” said a dark-haired girl coming down. A pair
of baggy overalls with one strap undone covered an undershirt that
looked suspiciously like Vasily’s. “I’m Love.” She smacked chewing
gum between her teeth. “I’ll take the baby if you want to go up and
see Belphagor. He’s been asking for you.”
I rocked my sleeping daughter in my arms, not knowing if this
Love was someone I could trust.
“I’m a friend of Knud’s,” she said, sensing my discomfort.
“Knud… ” My eyes welled with tears.
“I know.” She put a comforting hand on my arm. “A few of the
others got back before you.” When I nodded and relinquished Ola
to her, Love lifted the blanket to peek in. “Oh, will you look at that precious little thing.” She held Ola up, and demons I’d never met
gathered to admire her.
“Her name is Ola.” I looked once more at Vashti, the only person
I knew even remotely in this room.
“Go on,” she said in her rich accent. “I wouldn’t have gone all the
way to Heaven to save your honeyed hides just to let some besotted
fool walk off with the kid.”
“Heaven.” Love shook her head as I left them. “You’re all just
going to stick to that story.” A chorus of laughter echoed up to me.
From the doorway of their bedroom, the one that had become
“our” bedroom, I saw Vasily kneeling beside the bed with his head
draped against it. A bandage covered his left shoulder. Belphagor lay
on his stomach with his head resting on his folded arms. A light sheet
THE FALLEN QUEEN 305
covered him, dotted with spots of blood. I hung back, not wanting to
intrude.
“No, it was madness, Vasya,” Belphagor was saying. “Of course,
what I really want to know is why you didn’t do it sooner.” I heard
teasing in his voice, though it was weak.
“Because you told me to stay here and wait. So I waited.”
“Yes, until you didn’t.” Belphagor reached up and gripped Vasily
by the locks and pulled him close. “Which means you’ve been a very
naughty, naughty malchik.”
“Da, ser,” whispered Vasily.
I cleared my throat. Vasily’s head sprang up, but not without a
resisting jerk from Belphagor’s hand before he released him. Vasily’s
normally ruddy complexion blazed scarlet without the benefit of
radiance.
“Vasily,” I said, not knowing what else to say.
He stood and looked at me with shock, as though he hadn’t
recognized me. “Nazkia.”
“Now that the introductions are done,” said Belphagor, “perhaps
she’ll come ’round to where I can see her.”
Avoiding my gaze, Vasily edged past me to the door. I went to the
> bedside, and he hurried down the stairs.
Belphagor waved his arm in my direction. “I’d get up,” he said.
“But I’m a lazy son of a bitch.”
I took his hand and knelt beside him, and he smiled at me as if
we hadn’t just gone through our private hells and back with no idea of where we stood with one another.
“I saw the baby. His Supernal—” Belphagor grimaced. “Your
cousin brought her. He brought a lot of things to my cell. Once he
even insisted I play a game of wingcasting with him. But I have to say, I preferred her by far.”
“Oh, Belphagor,” I said, trying not to cry in front of him. “I’m so
sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’ll mend. And it wasn’t that bad. Your cousin’s a
lightweight.”
“Belphagor, Kae told me everything. He came to bring Ola in the
evenings and told me every detail. There’s no need to lie to me.” I
306 JANE KINDRED
eased the sheet from his back and wept in earnest at the terrible welts and gashes raking his skin.
“Don’t cry, Anazakia. It’s not good for my ego.”
“I feel responsible.” I tried to wipe my eyes.
“You’re not to blame for the things he’s done,” Belphagor insisted.
“He’s a madman.”
“But he’s still my family. I still love him,” I whispered, half ashamed.
“I didn’t think I did. I should hate him. I wanted to hate him. But he was so lost, and I couldn’t reach him. He kept begging me to help him
and there was nothing I could do. She kept him there while the mob
descended on them, with the fire almost at the door. And I left him to die.” I wanted to tell him the rest, to tell him of the syla and the flower, to confess how badly I had failed and have him tell me it would be all right, but shame and grief stayed my tongue.
Belphagor pulled me closer and kissed my forehead. “Having
compassion for someone who was once your family doesn’t make any
of this your fault,” he said against my hair. “It makes you a very sweet and loving woman.”
I pulled away. “How can you say that after the way I treated you—
after you did all you could to help me?”
“The circumstances were what they were.” Belphagor took my
hand again. “You only knew what you could see from where you were,
and I… I’m grateful you’ll never see things from where I was.”
