Page 56 of Spring's Arcana
The awkward silence was full of the fire’s soft breath and murmuring conversation from the glassed-in bar. Were there “divinities” in there with their noses pressed against the glass, looking at the new girl in town? Principalities, powers, demigods—she was going to get a whole new vocabulary, and quickly too.
“Separate.” Dmitri’s jaw hardened, and the word was a razor’s sharp gleam. “But adjoining,” he added. “For safety.”
Mr. Priest, however, watched Nat as if she could somehow overrule the gangster. Maybe she could, but at any moment she was sure she was going to wet herself like an overexcited cocker spaniel. “Fine,” she said, and dropped her gaze to the carving on the desk-front. The river wasn’t helpful, but she had to have something to look at.Just let me near a bathroom. Please.
“If I may commence? Welcome to the Elysium.” It was impossible for the bald man to look prouder, or more forbidding. “This is a place of rest. All feuds or battles are left outside the doors; while inside these walls all are welcome, and all are held to the same standard. Nonconsensual violence towards another guest or an employee is strictly forbidden and will result in banishment; all formal Ring matches are, of course, exempt. All amenities are included in your stay; whatever is required will be found. The bar is open to all; we do ask for some slight moderation in imbibing, though we understand it might not be possible in all cases.” He stared at Dmitri during that last sentence, and if Nat hadn’t been about ready to explode she might have had to suppress a laugh. “Meals are served in the restaurant at usual times or in the Ring; if you wish privacy while consuming, simply pick up the phone in your room and we shall be happy to deliver. The boutiques upon the second floor are also ready to assist any guest; the pools are open at all hours though we do ask that strict silence be observed in the sauna. The rooftop garden is closed for the season, unless Mademoiselle…” Here he looked at her, and Nat wondered what the hell she was supposed to say.
Apparently, nothing was an acceptable answer. “Very good, then.” Mr. Priest made a beckoning motion; footsteps behind Nat turned into another bellboy with the same prominent jaw—were they all Habsburgs, she wondered, biting back another weary laugh—and oddly colorless irises, in the same bright crimson uniform and pillbox hat. “Samuel, please show Mademoiselle Drozdova and Mr. Konets to their rooms. Sixth floor, I should think. Mademoiselle, should you need anything at all, please do let us know. We are honored by your presence.”
Yeah, thanks, I just want a toilet.“Thank you very much.” She sounded prim even to herself. What would Mom say? “I’m very happy to be here.”
It was a lie, but politeness so often was. Dmitri tugged at her elbow, Sam the bellboy glided past them towards a bank of brightly lit elevator doors, and Nat hoped she wasn’t walking funny.
She also hoped Dmitri was going to tip the young man, because she didn’t have any clue what the going rate was.
A HUNGRY GIRL
Whatever she’d expected, it wasn’t a vast green-carpeted suite; the bedroom held a wide white damask bed on acres of thick emerald. Both sitting room and bedroom had enormous bay windows looking over a night-jeweled city skyline. A faint good scent of cut grass in the sitting room breathed over a white leather couch and two wide white leather chairs crouching before a glassed-in gas fireplace. All the furniture looked suspiciously like whole birch saplings trained into different shapes, solidly rooted in grassy shag, their papery boles glowing with health. There was no television, but she didn’t mind once the door closed behind and she was left in blessed silence, all but duck-waddling for the bathroom.
A giant sunken tub with whirlpool jets just in case she needed drowning, shelves of toiletries she was fairly sure were charged for by the ounce, a vanity with rosy bulbs overhead to give a flattering light—that was nice enough, but she hobbled for the recessed commode and lost herself in sheer relief.
If she was a “divinity” why did she still need to pee? She didn’t have anyone to ask, and by the time she finished she not only felt several pounds lighter but also strangely… cleansed, as if she’d taken a shower instead.
With immediate concerns taken care of, she edged through the suite. A small leather folio on the nightstand did list “amenities.” Swimming pool, bar, room service. She didn’t want to know what the Ring was.
At least she was smart enough for that, despite the fact that it rated a page of its own in the folio.
No prices listed, either. Apparently powers and principalities didn’t look at price tags. Or maybe they paid in something else. Belief? Energy? Life-force? Jedi mind-tricks?
A series of knocks at the door set in the sitting-room wall opposite the fireplace thankfully wasn’t shave-and-a-haircut, but her mouth went dry anyway. “Open up,” Dmitri’s muffled voice floated through, and she flinched.
I don’t think I want to. There was no lock, and she stared helplessly at the door. “Come in?” The last word was more of a squeak, but the gilded lever serving as a doorknob depressed and she caught a glimpse of smoky darkness and deep wine-red before he nipped through, sweeping the aperture closed behind him.
Against the room’s pale luxury he was a black blot, his boot-toes glittering sharply. Dima eyed what he could see of the suite and grinned. “You like it?”
“I wonder what it costs.” There was, after all, no reason to lie.
“Costs?” He snorted, striding for the window; at least he didn’t peek into the bedroom. “That’s for the rubes,zaika.” A slight hitch in his stride, then he halted, swung towards her. “She really told you nothing, eh? Your dearMaman.”
“I’m not going to sneak out in the middle of the night, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Nat folded her arms, thankful she’d had a chance to unload, so to speak, before this. “And I know you hate her, but she’s my mother. Can you just… not?”
He stared at her, his dark head cocked, and his smile went through several different shades of feeling, most she couldn’t decipher, before it settled on something that looked almost pained. Had he ever had parents? It didn’t seem likely.
“Little girls love their mamas,” he muttered. “You hungry?”
She was, but she shook her head, digging her fingers into her coat sleeves. Maybe she could drag one of the chairs against the door between their rooms, if it wasn’t bolted to the floor. That sounded like a really good idea.
An uncomfortable semi-silence spread sharp feathery wingsbetween them. The gas insert’s flames twisted, hissing slightly behind sparkling glass. Had Mom ever stayed here? She’d had to at least have gone to South Dakota to leave the items for this scavenger hunt, but she always made a point of saying how she hated travel.
After coming from the old country and making this kind of road trip, probably with Dmitri breathing down her neck, Nat could see why. Had Mom been afraid of him showing up on the yellow house’s doorstep, or had de Winter held him back?
There was so much she didn’t know, and couldn’t trust anyone to tell her. Even her own mother, it looked like.
“You like the fights?” Dmitri turned away, strode to the window, examined the view like it had personally offended him. “I take you.”
Fights? Probably that ring thing. Even trying to ignore it didn’t keep the knowledge from seeping into your head; you couldn’t escape anything cruel. It was just the way the world was set up.
“No.” Nat’s arms and legs weren’t quite sure they’d stopped moving for the day; she could still feel the car’s engine throbbing in her skeleton. “Thank you.”
