From the Ashes of Victory: The Complete Series, page 41
part #0 of From the Ashes of Victory Series
To her left and right were nothing but the narrow lane, which curved away in both directions so that she couldn't see what lay around the corners. The way she had just come from was no use, as she couldn't remember how she'd gotten here in the first place. Both choices were dark and foreboding, the only light coming from the far end of the alley. Even above her was a dark forest of fire escapes and laundry lines, as the sun hadn't really been visible since leaving the park.
No matter what she did, she was alone and in a strange place.
She looked back down the alley. It wasn't that long, and didn't look to be any narrower than any of the other pathways that splintered through the city. If worse came to worse, she was a witch. That would be more than enough to scare trouble away, she told herself.
You're a witch now. A real witch. Not like last time. This is London, a city not at war with itself, and no-one is hunting you down for your name.
That part of her life was over.
Without giving herself the chance to overthink it further, she strode into the alley at a brisk pace.
Look like you're busy, like you belong, was advice she'd gotten long ago on how to simply barrel through problems she didn't have adequate time to prepare for. This qualified, so it was long, purposeful strides that got her more than halfway before the other end was blocked by the shadow of a man who had the appearance of someone who didn't lack for experience in blocking alleyways. Not an inch of him was clean, his greyish-brown palette the perfect camouflage.
Katya kept going. He was a problem, and she was a barrel. She wouldn't fear. Not again.
"Pardon me," she said politely as she approached. "I'd like to access the street." An odd thing to say, she knew, but with her accent, she hoped odd would confuse him enough for her to get what she wanted without incident.
His face pinched in confusion, and for a brief moment, she thought she had succeeded.
Then his face unpinched, to the point he smiled the most unpleasant smile Katya had ever seen.
Be aggressive, witch, Katya told herself. If he's waiting in an alley, he's a coward.
"I don't have anything you want. I spent all of my money, so kindly step aside."
"You got exactly what we want," said a voice from behind her.
Whipping her head around in surprise, she looked to see that another man, not unlike the first, had cut off her only escape route. The moment she did, she was grabbed from behind and her bags stripped from her hand, which was pulled painfully against the small of her back.
"A pretty face," said the man holding her arm, his reeking breath an inch from her ear.
"Let me go!" Katya shouted, hoping someone on the main street would hear. "I said let go!"
"When we feel like it," the man now in front of her said.
The look in his eye told her everything, and she had to suppress the scream that had torn from her throat the last time she'd seen it.
Not again. Never again!
Within her, magic began to swirl and rise, the living energy that marked her from all other witches roaring to life. From her core, it rushed through her veins, filling her with ancient power. Throbbing just below her skin, she gloried in it, revelling in the opportunity to unleash it on an unsuspecting world. In a way, she was glad it had come to this.
"Wha-?" A sickening, wet crunch.
"Wagh!" Another.
Something splattered across Katya's cheeks, and she stood alone again, two bodies crumpled at her feet.
The shadow that had darkened the alley remained.
"Stupid girl," a voice rumbled in Russian.
Katya lifted shaking fingers to her face, and they came way darkened with blood.
"Use your magic in public and you go home. That was the agreement."
When Katya turned, it was Inga who now loomed behind her. Slightly behind and to her left was Svetlana, looking both embarrassed and slightly sick. Inga, however, didn't look like she cared one jot whether the heads she'd smashed against the wall belonged to the still-living or the now-dead—she was too busy being disappointed.
The magic within Katya retreated as swiftly as it had been summoned, slinking back into her and leaving no sign it was ever there.
"Do you want to go home?" Inga said.
It took Katya a moment to remember Russian was her native language, and even longer for her to admit that 'going home' didn't actually mean anything anymore. Still… "No."
"Good." Inga tossed her a handkerchief. "Wipe your face, get your shit and let's go," she commanded, and left the alley.
Stunned, Katya had no choice but to comply.
Night had closed in around Longstown, the empty distance of the airfield lending an extra layer of quiet outside Elise's window. Millie had never lived in a place quite so isolated, and she still had to glance out the window occasionally to remind her that the world outside was still there.
Though with Elise on the inside, it was becoming less frequent, as whatever might be out there became less and less important.
"Russians?" Millie asked not for the first time, but with just as much disbelief as the first. It was so outside the realm of any possibility they had considered, Selene could have said 'the Moon' and they would have been just as surprised. Just the fact there were Russian witches at all was surprising enough, let alone the idea that they would be coming to EVE.
What should have been exciting was, going by Elise's face, more of a disappointment. Millie entwined their fingers. "I'm sorry they're not French."
Elise's slender shoulders rose and fell in a graceful shrug. "It cannot be helped. They could have come from anywhere."
"Aye, but Russia? Won't they melt come summer?"
To Millie's everlasting joy, Elise laughed. "British summers are not so warm. I think they will be fine."
"You're the nurse," Millie said. "All the more reason to continue my French lessons, then, I suppose."
"I would like that very much." Before Elise could prove just how much, there was a knock at the door.
Millie remained seated on the bed as Elise rose to answer it.
"Good evening, Elise," said Selene once the door was open. "And Millicent, you're here as well, good. May I come in?"
"Of course," Elise said, and gestured the eldest witch in, though she didn't look older than 40. There were times when her age would show, especially when it was cold, but anyone who didn't know the truth couldn't be blamed for assuming she was Vickie's mother.
And it was a motherly sort of concern she wore on her faintly-scarred face as she stepped inside, silently appraising what Elise had done with her room before turning back to the two of them with much more serious concerns weighing down her posture.
"There is something I need to speak with you two about," Selene said, her tone making it clear it wasn't anything good. "May I?" she asked, gesturing to the chair beside Elise's bed.
"Please," said Elise.
"Thank you." Selene gestured to the bed. "Please, sit."
When Millie and Elise were settled beside each other, Selene looked at both of them, clearly finding difficulty in where to start.
"I have news regarding the investigation into the hospital that Victoria was in. The Longs have done a thorough job going through all of their records since the acquisition and have come across information that is relevant to the two of you."
Millie gave a confused look to Elise, who didn't seem to be any wiser as to what that could mean. The night they had rescued Vickie was something they would never forget. It was the night Elise had Manifested, and Millie would always have the scar on her shoulder where she'd been shot.
"Nothing directly to do with that night," Selene assured them. "It concerns your… preferences."
There was still some amusement in the fact Selene couldn't just come out and say it. Afterbirth and menstrual cycles she could talk about in a clinical, matter-of-fact way, but when it came to girls kissing other girls, she got hung up. It was almost endearing. Almost.
"You and Victoria rescued 11 women from that horrid place that night. One was Mary, five of them were German, and the other five were… like you."
"What?"
Selene took a deep breath. "Five of the women you rescued were committed to that hospital for no other reason than they were homosexual. Their families had had them committed in a misguided attempt to 'fix' them. The records were shockingly honest about it. One of them had been there for almost five years."
Elise's hand closed over Millie's and gave it a reassuring squeeze, though she had needed to feel Elise in that moment as much as Elise had need to feel her. She'd known about two of the Germans, just hearing them talk had told Millie that much. But the rest had scattered quickly after they'd made their escape, and she'd never thought to ask about why they'd been there. They hadn't seemed insane in the short time they were together, and she'd trusted Vickie's assessment that they'd needed out as much as she had. To find out she'd been right was not a surprise, but to find out why left Millie shaking in a toxic combination of fear and fury.
"It wasn't just witches they were experimenting on," Selene said.
The blood rushed from Millie's head and she was suddenly dizzy. "If they had gotten me too, like they wanted… or Elise…" She turned to see Elise looking back at her already. Nothing needed to be said aloud for it to hang between them, but it still felt like Death itself approach, only to walk right through them, leaving them shaking and cold at what could have been.
"And so…" Selene collected herself again. "You both probably know what I'm about to say next better than anyone, and you don't need me to say it. But if I don't, and something happens to you, I would never be able to forgive myself for not at least trying.
"Ivy, Niamh, Victoria and I cannot be happier for the two of you. We are all overjoyed to see the love between you finally allowed to bloom. Love between witches is not unknown, you are far from the first. We have encouraged you to be yourselves, and express your love for each other however you choose to do so. It has made you stronger as witches, and as people."
"But…" Millie supplied.
"But, and this is the part I'm sure you are both aware of— this," Selene gestured all around them, "is a bubble. A bubble of love and support, but a bubble all the same. EVE wasn't going to be that bubble forever, and with the arrival of the new witches, I'm afraid it's going to have to burst."
Selene had been right, they did know that, but having foreknowledge you were going to be stabbed in the heart didn't kill you any less.
"The four of us will always support you, and in the moments where it is just us, we want it to be just like it has been until now. But the Russians may not be so accommodating. They are witches like us, yes, but that doesn't mean they'll be as accepting as we are. I have an open mind, but until we get to know them better and can find out for sure, I'm afraid the two of you will have to once again confine your relationship to your private time."
Millie bristled. "You're asking us to be ashamed again?"
Selene looked genuinely hurt by the very idea. "Not at all. However, EVE was never going to be a private club for the six of us. It was going to expand, and reflect more than our points of view. Now," Selene fended off whatever was about to explode from Millie's mouth with a scarred hand, "that is not to say we agree with them, or support that point of view. But I will not have you endangered by it.
"Victoria is one of you, your Coven. The three of us," Selene gestured to herself, "are too old to care who you love. That anyone loves anyone at all sometimes feels like a miracle. But though the newcomers are witches, we have to treat them like we would anyone else who isn't one of us. And if you think I derive any sort of joy from having to say that, then you sorely misunderstand me and my intentions. The report from the Longs shook me in a way that I was not prepared for. That kind of callousness aimed so specifically was a reminder of a time I'd thought us past." Selene traced the burns on her right hand, the ever-present reminder she would always carry of that time. "And the thought of losing either of you to it upsets me on a profound level." She raised her grey eyes to both of them, and the depth of that level was clear. The three witches she had shepherded through ADAM, the only three people who had persevered to the program's end, were the closest thing she would ever have to children, and Millie saw in her eyes the lengths she would go to protect them.
Whatever fire had been building in Millie, ready to spew forth and rail about just why she should have to take a huge step backward after finally working up the courage to take a leap forward, snuffed out under the look Selene doused it with. This was a woman who had suffered true persecution herself, who had literally been burned at the stake, and Millie knew how serious her feelings had to have been for her to have broached the topic with them at all.
Elise squeezed Millie's hand, and she looked over to see her own conclusions reflected back at her. Selene was right, as much as it might be personally upsetting to have to once again skulk about and be who they weren't in the one place they thought their own.
"All right," Millie said, keeping her eyes locked onto Elise's for a moment before turning them to Selene. "We'll do it."
It was obvious it gave Selene no pleasure to nod her thanks, and she suddenly looked her real age as she stood to take her leave. But when she set her hands on both of their faces, her pulse was strong and her skin warm.
"I'm very lucky to have found you," she said before gathering her cloak about her and moving towards the door. "Enjoy your evening." With that, she swept from the room and was gone.
The silence that followed was complete. Millie didn't even look at Elise, and they sat beside one another at a distance that felt suddenly vast. What had been a polite amount of separation in the presence of company now felt like a gulf between worlds, a chasm that yawned between them, the darkness within it swirling with the thoughts and images that Selene had left behind.
So when Millie finally looked up at Elise, there were no words. None needed to be said before that chasm snapped closed and Millie threw herself across it with an alacrity that knocked Elise backwards.
Their eyes met in a brief moment of rationality before they set upon each other with a hunger that made each of them gasp in surprise. It was a desperate, ferocious kiss that sealed them back together, a kiss of now that nearly brought tears to Millie's eyes with its intensity. If their short time alone was to be their only time they got to be themselves, to show each other the love that beat in both of their hearts, then they were going to make every second of it count.
"How did they take it?" Victoria asked as soon as Selene had moved far enough from the door she wouldn't be overheard. She'd been pacing the hall the entire time, waiting for Millie to start breaking things. That she hadn't left her more worried.
"Very well, considering," Selene said.
"Did you tell them everything?"
"I couldn't. Not then. I won't forbid you from telling them, if you think it right."
"I don't know that I could bring myself to. Millie has motivation enough, telling her might send her off somewhere far darker than 'motivated.' How much did you tell them?"
"I implied there was experimentation, much like Mary. They didn't ask for clarification."
Victoria nodded. She had been shocked to learn about the five they had rescued that night, but she had had no idea about the depths of the 'experimentation' that had been going on under her nose. The more she learned about that place, the more she counted herself lucky that it had only been as bad as it had been. The notes they'd found had declared Victoria too valuable to risk further damage, so they had largely let her be.
When she'd found out what had been done to the others, she had had to force herself to read past the first case without being sick, and to keep going without a magical outburst that would have levelled the Longs' office.
Those five had been treated as deviants, as broken things that needed fixing—that time with men would show them the error of their ways. They had all suffered sexual abuse, to 'turn back from their dark path' after experiencing a man. Two of them had been forcibly impregnated in the idea that their maternal instincts would kick in and override their 'deviancy.'
She should have killed the ones who did it. If she had known, she would have. At the time, she had just wanted to get away, and killing someone would have tied her to that place forever. But if she had known then what she knew now, her wrath would have been terrible and not at all swift.
She still could. There were names in those documents, all of which had been redacted before Victoria had been allowed to see them. Their positions had been as well, and so Victoria only had the names of the ones she had been introduced to personally. If Dr. Garland or any of the orderlies had had anything to do with what she read, she wouldn't have been able to prove it, but if she saw them again she had several creative ideas on how she was going to find out. As for the others, she left it up to the Longs. They were legally responsible for the hospital now, and if they saw it necessary to hide the identities for their own safety, Victoria had to admit they were wise to anticipate how the three witches who had actually been in that place would have reacted had they not.
Given Victoria's past, and the guilt she felt over the deaths of men that she had had an indirect role in, it should have concerned her more how visceral her reaction was to the idea of killing with her own hand. Yet, if she ever had the chance to play out the opportunity in a dream, she would count it as welcome respite from the nightmares.
"So this is the English countryside," Katya said as it sped past her window. Even in February, everything was green. How was that possible? Liquid water, fine, but they were at nearly the same latitude as Warsaw or Kiev, how was it not buried in snow? Though she couldn't explain it, she certainly didn't mind. Everywhere else they had been on this journey had been bitterly cold, the winter of 1919 sharp and aggressive in its need to drive prayers for spring from the lungs of everyone it set upon.
