Page 55 of The Unseen
“You know that what you’re doing is dangerous, right?” Quinn demanded. Erotic asphyxiation was not something to trifle with. She could think of at least three famous people off the top of her head who’d died because the game had gone too far.
“Do you believe some people are self-destructive by nature?” Jude asked.
“Are you saying you’re one of those people?”
Jude nodded. “I suppose I am, or maybe I’m just an adrenaline junkie. Logan told me about Quentin, but the way,” he said, deftly changing the subject. “Any news?”
“Are you interested in meeting her?”
“Of course I am. Just look at what fun it’s been meeting you.”
Quinn wasn’t sure if he was mocking her but let the comment pass. “Nothing new. Drew Camden is trying to find out what happened to her once she arrived in London.”
“What if he doesn’t find her?”
“I refuse to even entertain that possibility. She’s out there somewhere, and with today’s technology it’s hard to imagine that someone can elude you for long.”
“Well, I hope he tracks her down for your sake. Anyway, gotta dash. I have a shift in a half hour. Thanks for talking to me. And give my love to Emma. But not to Gabe,” he added.
“I will. Thanks for coming by. And thanks for the bear. I’m sure Alex will love him.”
“I had one just like that when I was little.”
“Where is it now?”
“Mum threw it away,” Jude said sadly.
“Why?”
“Because I made a hole in it and stashed my heroin inside him.”
Since there was no appropriate reply to that statement, Quinn simply wished Jude a good day and shut the door behind him. She was glad he wanted to stay in contact with her, but a relationship with Jude wouldn’t be easy. As Quinn got Alex readyfor their walk, she wondered if all families went through so much turmoil. Was it always this hard?
TWENTY-EIGHT
AUGUST 1918
London, England
As the summer of 1918 drew to a close, the tightly coiled self-control Valentina had imposed on herself since the deaths of her father and Alexei began to loosen. Cousin Dmitri was as good as his word and made sure they didn’t need to worry about a thing. They enjoyed outings to the numerous parks London had to offer, attended several plays, and forged new friendships with some of the other Russian exiles. They no longer felt like outcasts, but they were still a long way from considering England their home.
Elena’s health, mental and physical, slowly improved, but she took several drops of laudanum every night before going to bed to help her sleep through the nightmares that still haunted her. Dmitri was her dearest companion, and they spent hours sitting in the garden, or in the parlor on inclement days, reminiscing about people and events Elena’s children knew nothing about. Valentina often thought of home, but Tanya and Kolya didn’t like to speak of Petrograd. They grew restless and irritable whenever the “good old days” came up and made an excuse to leave the room. Valentina supposed it was their way of coping with the loss and fear they’d suffered.
With the help of Clive Brenner, the English tutor, their command of the language improved daily, and the children now felt confident enough to speak in public. Elena, however, made excuse after excuse, avoiding the daily lessons like the proverbial plague.
“Mama, you need to learn,” Valentina reprimanded her repeatedly. “You can barely string two words together.”
“And why do I need to string words together?” Elena demanded. “I can speak to you and Cousin Dmitri, and the other Russian émigrés at church. What do I want with English people? They will never understand me, no matter how well I speak their language.”
“But, Mama, surely you don’t want to feel like an outcast for the rest of your life.”
“I have no intention of being an outcast. I will return to Russia as soon as it’s safe and things have settled down. The party of thugs that’s holding Russia hostage will lose. They will be defeated by the White Army and executed, one and all. ‘The Red Army’ they call themselves.” She scoffed. “Red is a good description, since the streets will run red with their Bolshevik blood. The Civil War will come to an end, and things will go back to the way they were. The royal family will return from Siberia, and we will all do our best to forget this horrid episode in our lives.”
“Mama, things might never be the same again,” Valentina reminded her gently.
“Of course I know they won’t be the same, you silly girl. Your dear papa is gone, and Alexei, God rest his soul, will never be your husband now, but Russia will rise again. The monarchy will be restored, and we will be able to return and reclaim what’s rightfully ours.”
“Let her dream, Valya,” Cousin Dmitri said as they strolled down a lane in St. James’ Park. “She needs to believe in something, so let her. Reality will set in soon enough; it always does. She’s doing so much better, your mama, and if clinging to the old ways allows her to believe that she has some semblance of control over her life then it can’t be a bad thing. Only time will tell what will happen in Russia. Perhaps she’s right and the Reds will be defeated.”
