Page 109 of Nikola
“Are you still going to… the basement?”
Surprise flickered in his eyes, but he waited until Mama was out of the room to answer. “Yes.”
“Can I go with you?”
“No, that is no place for you.”
I shrugged. “I’ve been there. So either you take me with you, or I’ll go alone.”
“The Nikolaevs have let you into that basement?”
I shook my head. “No, I ended up there alone once, by mistake.”
The memory of that Halloween night burned, hot and bright, making my cheeks turn pink. If only I’d known where it would lead us, maybe I wouldn’t have made my way into The Den of Sin.
Oh, who was I kidding?
I would have still gone down there, begging for Nikola’s attention.
“What do you think you’ll accomplish by going there?” Papa asked.
I shrugged.
“Don't know. Closure?” My gaze flitted to where Mama disappeared to. “How come Mama doesn’t want to see Grandma and demand answers?”
“Your mom closed the chapter on her grandma a long time ago.”
I swallowed. “So you’re going to the basement to… kill her?”
He shook his head.
“No, we’re leaving that for Nikola.” The name caused a painful throb in my chest, but I ignored it. “I’ve been going down there trying to retrieve your great-grandfather’s name from that woman.”
“He’s alive too?”
Papa shrugged. “It’s complicated, princess. He might be long dead, but it’s important for your mama and Aunt Reina to learn his name.”
“I understand.” Although truthfully, I didn’t.
Papa glanced at his watch, then back at me. “Fine, you can come along. It might be easier to get you to your therapy session with Dr. Freud afterward if I don’t have to run back anyhow.”
I jumped to my feet. “Give me five minutes to get dressed.”
When we got to the club, Kostya and his father greeted us. Judging by the state of Alexei’s clothes, they’d been there a while.
The scent of copper and death surrounded us, causing my steps to falter. My eyes locked on the slightly cracked door that led into the room where they kept my great-grandmother, a mere stranger.
“She’s still alive?” I finally signed, eyeing the old woman tied to the chair. Frail. Battered. As if sensing me, she lifted her head and our gazes clashed. I reeled back from memories.
It’s her!
The woman who’d starred in my memories long forgotten. The very same woman who’d handcuffed me to the radiator like I was less than an animal, keeping me trapped in a bare room for days.
The malice and hate I sensed rolling from her had me shaking my head frantically. I wanted to chase the dark fog away, right along with her.
Her mouth moved, but I couldn’t read her chapped, bloodied lips.
Papa stepped in front of me, blocking me from the woman’s view. His tense shoulders and alarmed posture zeroed in on me.
