From the Ashes of Victory: The Complete Series, page 44
part #0 of From the Ashes of Victory Series
Whether from there or from within her own mind, she heard the darkness calling.
Much as breakfast always did, dinner saw Millie, Elise and Vickie acting as hosts, though they had been spared the task of actually preparing anything, much to Millie's relief.
Even though the Longs' personal chefs were doing the hardest work, Millie still found herself sweating as she darted between the hot, steamy kitchen and the cool dining room.
As, beyond the chefs, there was no help, all the courses would be served at once, which suited Millie just fine; it was how she'd grown up eating, even on Sundays, and the idea of having to hire people to bring out your food because you had so much of it was ridiculous.
Besides that, she was starving.
"I'm surprised you didn't come up to talk this afternoon. Where were you?" Millie asked Vickie as she popped a pilfered strawberry into her mouth. Elise was still rummaging down in the wine cellar, leaving the two of them alone with several more trips' worth of fantastic-smelling temptations.
"I did, but Elise's door was shut. I'd thought you two were… busy," Vickie said, licking a spatter of brown sauce off of her thumb.
"Since when do you need to knock?" Millie asked.
Vickie stopped moving and shot her a look that very openly posited that she might just be the biggest idiot in Britain.
But Millie merely shrugged. "It's just us."
"And that means something very different now," Vickie said. "I know what Selene told you, I wasn't about to interrupt."
"But it's you, Vickie, you don't have to worry about anything like that. You don't count."
It felt like a dagger between the ribs. Victoria knew, in her heart, that Millie hadn't meant it the way that hurt so much, but that belief only served to dull a blade that still wound up lodged in her chest. "I think I will have to grow accustomed to that."
But if Millie picked up on the subtext of her words, she showed no sign. "Nothing's changed! Just like we were back at ADAM, our door is always open to you."
Our door. She hadn't even known she'd said it.
That was when Elise emerged from the cellar with a basket full of dusty wine bottles, three red and one white. The building may have been new, but the wine was definitely not—none of them were labeled as having come from this century.
Setting her burden on the counter, Elise favoured Millie with a smile, one Victoria knew she wouldn't use in any other company.
The door to the dining room swung open as Millie took the first one out, along with a corkscrew and a towel, and Victoria could hear Russian coming from the other side. It was an alien sound that she wasn't confident she would ever grow used to.
Selene, Ivy and Niamh were seated in halting, hesitant conversation with Zoya and Yekaterina, who appeared to have the greatest command of English of the four of them that were willing to speak, though Svetlana was not far behind, when she wasn't fingering the fringe on the tablecloth or watching the candles burn down.
Alexandra sat beside them but apart, her eyes consistently focussed on the middle distance, neither here nor there, and whether or not she heard anything of what was said, she showed no recognition. None of the Russians seemed in any hurry to push her to open up, so no-one else did either, and Millie was careful to avoid touching her as she filled her wine glass.
When she got to Svetlana, however, she took far less care, as the auburn-haired Russian clearly took interest in every sensation that came near her, and seemed appreciative of new ones. When her wine glass was full, she immediately took it up and held it between her and the lights overhead, staring into the dark red liquid in fascination. "I've never seen it under electric lights before," she said in wonder, twisting the long stem between her fingers.
Witches, as a general rule, were odd. They had to be, especially ones that had Manifested. They knew things in their bones the vast majority of people wouldn't even accept as reality. Such a dramatic shift in perspective couldn't help but make them see and act differently, but Svetlana took it to a completely different level, Millie was finding. It was hard to look away from her as Millie stretched around Inga, whose head was almost level with her own, even sitting down.
Vickie showed an interest in the natural world, how things worked, how they were put together, but her interest had always been somewhat cold and analytical, in Millie's eye.
Svetlana showed in every glance and gesture the wonder that she knew Vickie felt, but never displayed. Vickie was a problem-solver. Svetlana seemed more about the experience of learning, though in her own unique way.
Though Selene's request was still fresh in Millie's mind, and she could have easily found herself mired in resentment of Svetlana's presence, she couldn't help but be charmed by her raw enthusiasm.
Inga seemed just the opposite; her strong, calloused hands gripped her wine glass like it was a rabbit she'd managed to snare and was afraid it would get away if she loosened her grip. Millie just hoped she could make it through the evening without snapping its neck.
Victoria watched Elise watch Millie go, and when the Frenchwoman turned back, she was wearing the same besotted smile she always seemed to, as of late.
"You look very happy," Victoria said. She set the last soup bowl on its matching plate, turning it slightly so that the floral patterns around the rims lined up just so.
"I am," Elise said. Her smile faded. "I am sorry it is at your expense. I know you came upstairs. I guess you would have come in if we were not… us." Elise shot a glance over her shoulder at the dining room. "You and Millie were very close. I have taken her from you."
"No, Elise," Victoria waved the thought away, "please don't say such things. You are my friend, too. You saved my life. I want you to be happy. Don't worry about me so."
Elise nodded, but Victoria could tell she didn't agree. "It is my nature to worry when one is suffering."
Another dagger. It staggered her, but she stayed on her feet. "I read the reports Selene told you about. Believe me when I say I want nothing but happiness for you. You deserve each other, and you shouldn't have to compromise your happiness because I'm moping around a bit. I'll be all right."
The door swung open again, and Victoria caught a flash of Yekaterina's eyes before Millie was with them again. "Is the soup ready?"
"I mean it," Victoria said with a hefty look to Elise as she picked up two of the soup servings.
She did. She knew she did. It was selfish to think any other way, and she couldn't bear the thought that her own weakness should prove to be a detriment to them.
If she could project enough strength for them to believe in it, then maybe she could, too.
She pushed into the dining room.
"What does she mean?" Millie asked.
"We are making her lonely," Elise said sadly. "She was in The Shed by herself all afternoon."
"How do you know?"
"How do you not?" Elise looked up with narrowed eyes. "I do not want to hurt her any more than she has been."
Vickie thumped back through the door. "There's five more before us, could you help me, please?" Filtered through what Elise had said, Millie couldn't tell if she was hearing irritation in her voice or not, and the thought kept any words from forming.
"Of course," Elise said before Millie could.
Finally able to sit down, Victoria couldn't help but guzzle her water. It was that or the wine, and she wasn't about to start in on the latter until her belly was full.
The others were as ravenous as she was, and set upon their meals like well-mannered wolves, voracious as they worked their way down the line of utensils laid before them.
Conversation was stilted, at best. Alexandra and Svetlana rarely spoke, the latter mostly because she kept her food in her mouth for so long, savouring every flavour that went into it for as long as possible before finally swallowing and replacing it with something that proved to be equally fascinating. This suited Victoria just fine, as it meant never having to look her in the eye.
Those hazel orbs, mostly green but flecked with filaments of gold, were not going to be the objects of Victoria's attention for the foreseeable future. She had seen people with manic gazes before, and after her experience in the asylum, 'manic' had a very specific, sombre definition to her. No, it was something else in them that was so unnerving, even after only one look.
How Millie and the others could stand to even look at her mystified Victoria, but it was one mystery she was content to let lie. When Svetlana had looked into Victoria's eyes, it wan't that she had felt like a curiosity, as if Svetlana had never seen blue eyes before, or that she was smitten, the way Millie and Elise looked at each other. No, it was something far darker.
Violated. That was how Victoria had felt when Svetlana had looked into her eyes. She'd seen things she wasn't allowed to see, without Victoria's permission, and that was simply unacceptable. It was obvious the Russian's Manifest had something to do with perception, given her behaviour, but that she hadn't displayed the same look to anyone other than Victoria left her feeling naked and vulnerable. Why her? Why had she been singled out for such analysis?
More importantly, what had Svetlana seen?
Your shame. Your guilt. Your weakness. That deep well of sadness within you you try to hide? She found it in a single look. She exposed you, a voice whispered from the darkness. You can't pretend with her.
Victoria coughed loudly, bringing her napkin to her mouth to hide her grimace. She held it there until the feeling passed, pretending to be staving off another cough.
"Apologies," she said, and then half of her wine was gone.
Katya looked over at the one who had coughed. Victoria. Her eyes were unfocussed, looking through her food into some place that Katya suspected didn't exist. If it did, it was not a place anyone else could go, or even see.
It was a look Katya knew well, because it was a look she'd shared many a time, usually when she was trying to forget. As Victoria gulped her wine, Katya looked away. She knew that feeling, too.
The other two younger witches seemed merely uncomfortable, as though they didn't really know what to do with themselves in this situation. Truth be told, Katya didn't know, either. They had all been thrust together so suddenly, there was bound to be some awkwardness, she supposed.
Meeting strangers over business had its own rhythm, its own rules that everyone played by. Safe topics, forbidden ones, there was a flow to it once you had done it enough.
This? This wasn't business, exactly. It wasn't personal, either; not yet. It was in an awkward middle. Katya and the others were coming into these women's home, she knew that, it was natural to be greeted with some suspicion. They were witches all, privy to the same great secret, and yet no-one was willing to so much as ask where the others were from.
Given that three of the nations represented at the table had been, were currently being, or were on the verge of being torn apart by war made even that normally banal topic touchy. Among the safest of topics had been taken away by the events that had led them to all be seated together, and now no-one seemed to know which direction was up.
The older witches could probably have served as decent ice-breakers, but they were in animated conversation with each other instead, and it was clear that some of the things that they were waxing nostalgic over had happened in a century one or two removed from the current one. In current company, they weren't sheepish about it.
Katya had known Zoya was old, the elder witch looked it, but the more said between her and Selene, it became quickly apparent just how old.
"When was the last time we were all together?" Selene asked, looking between Ivy and Zoya.
"Paris, I think," Ivy ventured.
With her wild black mane and prominent canine teeth, Ivy cut a striking figure against the candles burning behind her. On anyone else, the black and white stripes that criss-crossed her dress would have been comical. However, though Katya barely knew her, it was somehow hard to imagine her in anything else. But it was Ivy's eyes that Katya found distracting from her clothing. Twin rings of jade, they were old, but lively. There were years in those eyes, even if they were glossed over with an enthusiastic energy for the present.
"That long?" Zoya asked.
Ivy nodded, a crooked smile on her face. "It was a different place before the guillotines went up."
"Did you go through it on your way here?" Selene asked.
"No, we tried to avoid the big cities. The ruined towns further east and up towards Belgium were better for hiding. Lots of displaced people there, we didn't stand out. Elise, what part of France are you from? Perhaps we passed through," Zoya asked.
Clearly surprised at having been addressed, Elise forced herself to swallow whatever she'd been chewing, and dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. "I am from Bezonvaux."
"I'm afraid I don't know it."
"It was in Verdun… it no longer exists."
All the air rushed out of the room at once, and, as if on command, everyone reached for their wine simultaneously, except the tall, lanky Scot, who looked about ready to leap across the table.
Exactly the razor-toothed trap everyone else had trod so carefully around, Zoya had stomped on with almost gleeful abandon. Old as she may be, she was good at reminding Katya that age and experience were not always the same thing.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Zoya said.
"You did not know. It is all right," Elise said graciously.
Though no-one wanted to step into the vacuum left behind by that, Selene, as the leader of EVE, took it upon herself to try, and cleared her throat.
"I thought that perhaps tomorrow we could all get together in the hangar to display your Manifests," she said trepidatiously. "You will all have to learn to work together if EVE is to be a success, and seeing each others' abilities might prove to be a good place to begin conversations. We all have that in common, at least."
Zoya nodded enthusiastically, clearly thankful for the change of subject. "It will be perhaps a better chance for you to get to know each other."
Judging by the looks on the faces of the younger witches, it was an optimistic statement.
Though Victoria was curious about the Manifests that the Russians had brought with them, there had to be a better way to show them than a magical minstrel show in the sterile emptiness of The Shed. She didn't need to think any further about Svetlana's, but Victoria found herself sneaking glances at Yekaterina. What was she hiding beneath that icy exterior? Her look was obviously cultivated, dressed entirely in white, even her hair. Did her Manifest reflect that, or was it the other way around?
A bold thing for you to wonder about. So worried about hiding your own feelings, but so quick to judge another for wanting to do the same? Victoria thought, biting the inside of her lip hard enough she tasted blood.
Inga, then. It was still hard to credit she was even a witch. At her size, why would she even need magic, let alone a Manifest? What circumstance could have possibly led to a woman with Inga's physical dimensions Manifesting? Victoria felt like Inga could get out of most problems by looking at them hard enough. If she was as strong as she appeared and had a Manifest, then that made her the most intimidating woman Victoria had ever come across.
Then again, Ivy's Manifest meant she could essentially talk to plants, and if Inga's was more along those lines, it made her more fascinating than intimidating. But if she was more like Millie or Niamh… Victoria pitied anyone who had taken exception to them on their way here.
Perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea, after all. Get it all out in the open at once. It would give them something to talk about, at least.
Dinner went on for another excruciating hour or so before Millie and the others cleared the dishes away and brought out the pudding, leaving the remaining wine and glasses.
Attracted by the smell of brandy and cake, the elephant in the room came over and had a seat in the at the table.
"I was curious why Russia was never consulted about ADAM. I had thought us allies in our cause against Germany and Austria," Zoya said, the dregs of her third round of wine still wobbling at the bottom of her glass.
Selene set down her own glass and cleared her throat, something that had been happening a lot over the course of the evening. "We did ask. And we were rebuffed quite directly."
"I never heard a word of this."
"I doubt it made it out of the palace. I would imagine your Rasputin had the Tsar's ear when it came to witchcraft. Our guess it was he who spiked it," Niamh said.
It was the most she had said all evening, and the fire in her voice took Millie aback. How could she even know something like that, let alone with enough confidence to throw it in a Russian's face? But given her recruiting results, perhaps it made sense after all, Millie thought. What if France had said no? The very thought made her reach for her wine.
"Why do you say that?" Zoya asked.
"There are so many rumours and tales when it comes to that man, even here. That he was a wizard, that he is immortal, that he carried on affairs right under the Tsar's nose, and he did nothing about it."
"Men cannot practice magic," Zoya said defensively.
"We know that," Niamh said. "The average person doesn't. If Russia had started sending witches here, real witches, how long would his illusions stand up? He would have been outed as the fraud he was."
"Perhaps he was protecting someone," said Zoya in a way that sounded just a hair beyond speculative.
"How do you mean?"
"If the tsarina or one of the princesses was a witch, perhaps he claimed their acts of magic as their own to protect them."
Niamh scoffed. "I can't imagine those in the halls of power would take well to having a witch so near the throne. It might make them start to wonder who should be sitting in it."
"Speaking as the subject of a throne, perhaps that kind of talk can be saved for a more appropriate moment?" Selene said, holding out a hand to hold off whatever was about to come out of her cousin's mouth next.
