Chapter 3 - Kuklachka (CoU 8)

The car ride to the airport wasn't actually a long one. But it certainly felt like it was. The second I pulled into the driver's seat she was asking me how she could possibly get into Europe without a passport, and didn't seem at all willing to accept that that wouldn't be an issue for us. I'd had less annoying conversations with Anya over the phone when she'd first learned she could ask "Why?" to every single thing I said.

Of course, when she finally dropped that particular train of conversation, she started asking me just about everything else imaginable. What was the Mandate, who were the Saxons, did I know her family, on and on she went. I made sure to answer exactly none of them, hoping she'd get the idea, but she was either very clueless or just didn't care.

Instead of listening to her, I made a few calls on the drive. First to the Dauphin number – apparently Monsieur Dauphin had woken up early and requested an update, so the man who answered had put me directly through to him.

"Stellan?" his voice rang through the phone.

"Good morning, Monsieur Dauphin." I said in my most formal voice, really hoping Avery's persistent babble wasn't making its way through the connection. I shot her a glare, but either she didn't see it in the dark, or she didn't care.

"Do you have the girl?"

"Yes, her name is Avery West, I've collected her and am taking her to the plane now. We'll be there under 10 hours."

"And do you know, why, the Saxons wanted her?" Came an incredulous voice. Monsieur Dauphin seemed angry, which wasn't exactly unusual for him, but never boded well for these conversations in my experience.

"The Saxon Keeper, Jack, was there as well. He claims that she's a distant family member of the Saxons, that the family must have lost track of and wanted to bring back into the fold. She denies any knowledge of anything to do with the Saxons, or the Mandate, or any extended family whatsoever, so I've been unable to verify the claim." I tried to stay calm, stay professional. Just give him the information, but not over promise. I wanted someone I could talk to about this, Elodie or someone who I could brainstorm with about who this girl could possibly be, about which parts of Jack's story were the least likely to be true.

"I see. I find it hard to believe Alistair would spare a Keeper for this long for some distant relation. Your previous report said she's a high school student correct? Not one of those new age celebrities or anyone of value or anything interesting?" It wasn't an unfair question, I had considered the same thing, but if she was famous then it was under some other name, and honestly, I doubted even that. Still, something about the way Monsieur Dauphin implied that she was useless because she wasn't influential rubbed me the wrong way, but it wasn't abnormal for the Circle, so I just ignored the feeling.

"No, sir. Just an ordinary teenage girl. If you'd like when I return I'll follow up and see if we can't prove her connection." It wasn't exactly the type of work I excelled at, so I doubted the Dauphin leader would take me up on his offer, but I had to offer anyway.

"No. No. You'll need to be security for Madame Dauphin when you get here. We can't afford risks with her security right now." Monsieur Dauphin insisted.

"Of course, sir."

"Is there anything else?" There was a lot more to tell, but based on how terse he was being, I was pretty sure he didn't care. Besides, anything more I could say would be speculation, about Jack, or Avery, or the Saxon family as a whole, and there was no reason to waste his time on any of that.

"No, sir. I'll see you this afternoon." And with that, I heard the call disconnect. I made another call, this time to the pilot, but honestly my requests for the plane were unnecessary – mostly I was just using that call to drown out Avery's incessant prattling.

I slept on the plane. I'd done the math and I knew the time zones, and we'd be getting into Paris mid-afternoon, right around the time of Madame Dauphin's informal meeting. And after that probably errands to help prep for the ball. This was the best time for me to get some sleep. Plus, Avery wasn't exactly threatening, I kept a hand on my knife in my sleep, same as always, but I knew I wouldn't be needing it.

When we'd first gotten onto the plane Avery had been so impressed with the wealth of the thing. It was odd, realizing how numb to the lavishness I'd gotten. Growing up in Russia I probably never would have imagined private jets would be a common part of my life, but now they were just… mundane. Of course, her wonder had evaporated immediately on take-off. After that she'd been stuck to her seat, clutching her arm rests as though they could save her if we fell from the sky. Oh well, not my problem. And honestly, she got onto a plane out of the country, without a passport to get back, with a strange man, who had just held a knife to her within the last hour, and she was scared of the flying part?

When the plane started its long descent, I woke up. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, cracking my neck side to side. Avery was staring at me, but I wasn't sure if she was checking me out or trying to glare at me. Testing, I stood up, and lifted my arms over my head in a long, languid stretch. I felt my shirt rise up on my abs a little, and Avery turned quickly away, that quick blush response starting to rise in her cheeks, again. So yeah, that settled it, she was checking me out, and I could feel myself smirking in response. At least if she was all weak in the knees I might be able to actually get some useful information out of her now that Jack wasn't hovering.

"We're landing soon." I told her "I'm going to clean up. You might want to do the same." Looking at her again it was clear she was a mess. No way I could walk her through the Louvre looking like that. Her dress, which I was pretty sure had never been all that impressive, and definitely hadn't fit her right anytime in the last year, still had a large red splotch across her chest. I could see where her sandals straps had dug into her skin, leaving deep welts. Her makeup had given into gravity and time and what had once been passable eye makeup now made raccoons look restrained. Then there was her hair. Yeah, no, I could not walk that through the Louvre, not when there were guests present. Madame Dauphin would kill me.

She saw me looking, and tucked her feet under her, making no motions towards following my instructions. "What's the Mandate?" She asked instead, a forced bravado in her tone. Oh great, more of the endless questions from the car ride. This would be fun.

"Nothing that concerns you." I said, opening up the overhead compartment to grab my bag.

"You said something about a search. Can you at least tell me what you're searching for?"

I reached in and grabbed the straps to my duffel bag, pulling it down as I replied. "What's everyone always searching for?" And then as I tossed it down on the seat, I leaned in just a bit and whispered the word "Treasure" conspiratorially.

She blew out an angry breath and frowned at me. Which only made me laugh. God she was a petulant little one, wasn't she? Did she think she was negotiating from a position of power or something? Or did she just hope that if she annoyed me enough, I'd answer all her questions to make it stop. I'd be more likely to find something that could be an effective ball gag first. I might not be able to hurt a family member, but lightly restraining a possible, distant family member seemed like there might be some gray area.

I considered it as she spoke again. "Is my, um. Is my family from England?" Yeah, a ball gag. I mean she was cute, if I could just tie her mouth shut I bet she'd actually be pretty OK company.

"The Saxons are from England; maybe they're your family" I replied, pulling out a folded button down from my bag.

"And you don't work for them?" Seriously, how many more questions til we hit 20?

"I represent another family of the Circle." I reached back to the overhead compartment, this time fishing out my combat boots and setting them on the ground. Was she ever going to start at least trying to get ready?

"Which is what exactly?" She asked, nervously fidgeting with her dress against the white leather of the couch.

I stopped in my tracks, hands still leaning on the edge of the overhead compartment, and looked directly into her eyes. Did she really not know even this much? "The Circle of Twelve?"

She shook her head. Well, fuck. "They claim you're family, but you don't know your father, and you don't know what the Circle is?" I narrowed my eyes at her, she had to be fucking with me, right? Was this some elaborate prank by Jack. A distraction technique by the Saxons? Some truly wicked karmic retribution for the things I'd done in my life?

She fell silent, lips sealed shut. I went back to getting myself ready, at least I could look presentable. I shook the creases out of my shirt, enjoying the silence, and then took off my under shirt to change. As I turned my back to her, I heard Avery's breath catch. Right, the scars. I never really forgot about them, obviously. A thing that hurts you 24/7 for 7 years isn't exactly a thing you gloss over, but at this point most of the people seeing me without my shirt have either seen them before, or are much less innocent and far too focused on other, much more entertaining, tasks at the time. No one had reacted to them in years.

Not wanting to deal with it I grabbed the clothes I needed and went into the bathroom. When I came back out after getting dressed she lurched, dropping a bobby pin from her hand and letting it clink against the bar sink. She was leaning over the liquor bottles, staring at the bar mirror, trying to make sense of the tangle of bobby pins and day-old hairspray that was her scalp. That would be fun. "Jumpy." I admonished. "Afraid of flying? I should've brought the big plane instead, less turbulence."

Maybe I could make her talk about something else, and she'd keep getting herself decent, and not ask any more questions or make me any more curious about how the hell she was even still alive at this point, honestly she made me question everything Fitz had taught me about Darwinism.

I went to espresso machine, fastening my tie as I went. "Coffee?" I asked, getting the machine straightened away.

"I would've taken you for a vodka in the morning kind of guy."

I didn't even bother looking up at her, just continuing to load the coffee grounds instead. "Why is that?"

"I want to say because your accent sounds Russian, and that's the stereotype…" She tapped one of those silly bobby pins against the rim of the sink as she spoke, "But really, from what I've seen so far, it's just what I would expect from you."

The wonderful smell of espresso was filling the air seconds later. "Half Russian" I found myself correcting her. I handed her the first cup I filled, and started to fill the second. "The other half's Swedish, so feel free to make insulting Viking references, too. Besides, they don't have my favorite vodka on this plane." The second cup full, I lifted it to my lips and sipped on the wonderful life giving caffeine.

Avery wasn't drinking her drink, instead she was focused at the mirror again, doing her best to address the mess of bobby pins. "So, you and Jack are what, bodyguards?"

No, not the questions. Not more questions. Anything but that! Maybe if I flirt a little, just a little bit, she'll drop it? "Has anyone ever told you that you look like one of those dolls?" I asked her "A… kuklachka. How do you say it in English? With the white skin and the big eyes?"

"A porcelain doll." She responded, clearly this was not the first time she'd heard that particular comparison, "Why does the family you work for care about me if I'm related to someone else?"

"A pretty little porcelain doll. That's you. Kuklachka." She wouldn't engage with my teasing; I wouldn't engage in her questioning. If it was a stalemate maybe she'd just give up.

Avery was trying to ignore it, but clearly, she was getting just a bit flustered by my words. She was getting rather aggressive with the remaining bobby pins now. Going so far as yanking out a little chunk of hair in an attempt to get a particularly troublesome one. She hissed in pain.

"Here." I offered, putting down my nearly empty espresso and moving her hands away from her scalp.

"Absolutely not!" she ducked away from my hands.

"It reflects poorly on me for you to show up looking like you've been in a bar brawl." I moved her hands away a second time, only for her to pull away from me, twisting to create distance this time. "I'm not going to hurt you." I reassured her, seriously, she'd gotten on a plane to another continent with me, but I couldn't be trusted with a few renegade hair accessories?

"Maybe if I knew what you were going to do to me, I wouldn't be so worried you'd stab me with a bobby pin." She grumbled under her breath, but this time when I moved her hands away from her head, she didn't avoid my touch. With a little bit of cajoling I managed to get the pin loose, and moved onto the next one, swiping her hands away again. A bald spot would definitely reflect poorly, no way was she pulling out any more.

"What am I going to do to you, you ask? Well, I barely know you." I teased, turning up the innuendo in my voice to ridiculous levels. I removed the last of the pins, rustling her hair around a bit to check for stragglers before I continued, "But I'm sure I could think of something. I do appreciate your enthusiasm."

Her cheeks had turned the most vibrant shade of rose. They seemed to do that a lot, and it usually coincided with her shutting up. I think I quite liked the look of that, her flushing, mouth shut. I let out a laugh, and went back to prepping myself, adjusting my earpiece as the pilot's voice spoke through the intercom, letting us know we'd be landing in Paris in 12 minutes.