Page 94 of Fate and Fury

“He took my life,” said her mother’s voice inside her head. “And left me here. Don’t you want to avenge me, Katerina? Together, we will have such strength. Let me in…let me in…let me in…”

There on her knees, she could swear her mother’s hands held her tight. She had longed to feel her touch again. Had Gadreel really murdered her mother, then left her soul in this purgatory rather than using it to power the Dark? Had she been here all this time, waiting for Katerina to find her?

Guilt consumed Katerina, just as it had the day she had tried to save her mother, to destroy the demon that had taken her life. Every time she faced the Grigori, every time she vanquished one to the Void, it was a victory over what she had failed to do before, a drop of water in a bucket that could never be filled. And all this time,Gadreelhad been the faceless enemy she’d sought to defeat.

We meet again, little Dimi,he’d said to her in the woods. Finally, she understood.

If that part of the memory were true—if the demon that coveted her was the same one who had killed her mother—then what about the rest of it?

“Please, Katerina,” her mother coaxed, her fingers encircling Katerina’s upper arms. “Your father and I miss you so much. All we want is to be with you. We can be together again. Only open your heart.”

Katerina tried to summon the Light, but it flickered weakly, refusing to flare into a flame. In desperation, she thrust her hand into her pocket. Her fingers closed around the charm. It was icy as ever, the engraved snakes slithering against her palm. But as her grip tightened around it, her head cleared.

Her mother’s touch turned cold and grasping. She blinked, and found the roots had burst through the tunnel’s earthen walls and floor, twining around her, seeking to bind her.Theyheld her fast, not her mother’s shade.

With her free hand, she scrabbled for the knife in her thigh sheath as a root wrapped around her fingers. Blessed or no, the blade was still sharp, and she sliced at it, freeing her arms first, then her legs.

The invisible demon impersonating her mother shrieked, the sound piercing. It echoed off the tunnel’s walls and floor and arrowed through Katerina’s head, nearly making her lose her grip on the knife. “Why would you hurt me, my Firebird?” it wept. “Stay with me…if you loved me, you would stay…”

“You lie!” With the last bit of her strength, Katerina wrenched her way free. The door loomed in front of her, arched and shimmering with the same flecks of Darkness that had marked the portal outside Kalach. She grasped the handle and shoved with all her might, and it gave easily, hungrily, beneath her touch. Fear metallic in her mouth, heart thrashing in her chest, she fell across the threshold and into the unknown world beyond.

55

KATERINA

Somehow, impossibly, Katerina was standing in Kalach.

Had things gone horribly wrong? Had she traveled through a portal to the Underworld only to arrive home again?

She was at the edge of the village square, watching as Maksim passed by her without so much as a nod of acknowledgment. Behind him came Alyona, and Katerina braced herself for the Vila’s invective. But Aly merely waved at her, batting her lashes coquettishly in Katerina’s direction. Her green eyes were devoid of any kind of resentment or suspicion. And her cheeks were plump and full, unlike the last time Katerina had seen her, at Niko’s funeral.

That sense ofwrongnessintensified as Katerina turned, taking in her surroundings. There was the blacksmith’s shop. The apothecary. The marketplace. All where they should be. Except…the marketplace’s stalls were overflowing with lush, ripe fruit and vegetables, fresh-baked bread, cookies, and cakes. The air bloomed with the earthy scent of borscht and the tempting aroma of vareniki, sizzling in oil. Hungry as she was, her mouth watered at the sight.

As Katerina watched, the ruddy-cheeked villagers lined up for helpings, Konstantin and Ana among them. They chattered amongst themselves, looking healthy and fit andcheerful.There wasn’t a sallow-faced, malnourished one in the bunch. Mid-square, fiddlers and tambourine musicians played a jolly tune as dancers held hands and twirled. In the center stood a khorovodnitsa, directing the festivities.

Katerina stared, speechless. Kalach had been planning a celebration for the Kniaz’s arrival, but this was more than the village could usually manage for the fall Harvest Festival. What was happening? Wherewasshe? And how long had she been underground?

“You, girl!” an elderly woman in a bright yellow apron called, motioning at Katerina. “What are you waiting for? Get the finest cheese vareniki in Kalach right here!”

Katerina loved vareniki; the fried, stuffed dumplings were her favorites. Every cook in town knew it, and had vied for the honor to have Dimi Ivanova sample their goods. In consequence, Katerina knew every vareniki-maker in Kalach by name. And this woman was a stranger. Odder still, how had she gotten the flour for the dough, when the fields were barren and the storehouses had been emptied for the Kniaz’s tithe?

Everyone’s happy expressions and well-fed bodies. The way Alyona hadn’t recognized her. The profusion of food. None of it made any sense.

“Would you prefer mushroom?” The woman smiled, showing unusually sharp, white teeth. “I picked them myself, just this morn. Tender as a baby’s flesh, they are.”

A fruit vendor, her hair tied back with a patterned kerchief and her cheeks unnaturally rosy, rummaged among her wares. She came up with a pomegranate, sliced in two. The seeds glistened in the harsh sunlight, ruby-bright and slick with juice. “Fruit of the damned,” she called cheerfully. “Beautiful fruit!”

“Or perhaps you would prefer borscht,” the man in the next stall over suggested, leering at Katerina. He gestured to a steaming cauldron, perched over a crackling fire. “Red as blood, and twice as sweet. See?”

Dipping a ladle into the cauldron, he lifted it for Katerina’s inspection. As fat, gleaming drops fell from the spoon, Katerina smelled not the tangy-sour aroma of the soup she loved but the coppery scent of blood. She gasped, and the man cackled, a horned, blue-skinned beast shimmering beneath the surface of his wrinkled skin.

“Come and get it!” he cried happily. “Come and eat…and eat…and eat…”

He bared his teeth, stepping toward her. And then he stopped, his nostrils flaring.

“Whatareyou?” he said, his voice deep and threatening. “From whence have you come? You smell of Light, little one. You smell…tasty.”

The square fell silent, the fiddlers lifting their bows and the tambourines ceasing to jingle. The dancers, still clutching each other’s hands, turned as one to face Katerina. And then, as if attuned to a signal only they could hear, they all began to advance upon her, their eyes alight with hunger.

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