Chapter 2: Ducks and Sheeps
The trains out of Zurich were sporadic and crowded. Yuri, several bags in hand, thrust his way through the crowd on the platform and shoved his way roughly to the train car, pushing aside a Swiss soldier who was trying to keep order. He was quickly told what to do with himself by several bystanders, but as Yuri didn't understand Schwyzertütsch, the Swiss German, he ignored them. Plowing his way aboard, he made his way to the coach and tossed his bags inside before returning outside. Across the platform he could make out Alice's silver-white hair and that of her mother as well. They were slowly pushing their way to the train but making little headway in the press. With a snort Yuri jumped from the train and pushed, shoved and kicked his way back through the crowd to open a way for the two women.
"Follow me," he said. "I've got the bags on board and I can make a path for you." The return trip to the train was another one of pain for anyone in Yuri's way and they were soon settling onboard.
Life had gotten difficult these past months with the war between the Austrio/Hungarian Empire and France and Russia heating up. The fighting on the Eastern Front along Galicia was fierce and Yuri had listened intently as Alice read him the daily paper detailing what they knew of the events of the war to date. Yuri did not know anyone in Russia, didn't even consider it his homeland, but he had spent many years wandering through Russia's expansive territories and didn't want to see it carved up by another country. And with the fighting on the Western Front no less intense, and the combatants now thoroughly entrenched, Alice and her mother, the Reverend Mrs. Elliot, felt it was time to leave. Alice's father Morris Elliot had been Swiss but Mrs. Elliot was English; and although there was a beautiful home in Zurich for Alice and her mother, Zinnia Merritt Elliot had decided to return to England. It was with nervousness that Alice joined her, while Yuri thought of it as adventure. He was in his element and thoroughly enjoying protecting his Alice and her mother. Switzerland was neutral, and the trip would be dangerous, but Alice thought England would at least afford her the opportunity to check in with Sharon, Chris and Joshua, the three London Rats left behind when Halley departed for America.
So they bought tickets for Marseilles, taking the train to the port town in Southern France and then a ship to England. Yuri had balked at the idea of a ship transit, but the idea of crossing France in the middle of a war was less appealing, although only to the women. Yuri found the idea exciting, but he was vetoed. There were some dangers in the crossing by sea as well, and they all knew that the Germans had Unterwasserboote that plied the seas, sinking ships. But this was a passenger ship, not carrying cargo, and it was flying an Italian flag; all of which pointed to neutrality, if the German's chose to believe it; Alice hoped they did.
Once the women were settled Yuri put their bags above their berths and fell into a seat. He stretched his legs out across the entrance to their car, preventing anyone from barging in without falling over him, and proceeded to take a nap. Alice and her mother sat talking quietly.
In spite of the dangers, the voyage to England was unremarkable but for only one incident: Yuri chose a bad moment to be seasick; the roll of the ship matched his rolling heaves and his stomach empted its contents onto the expensive attire of a wealthy debutant. The young lady was not amused. Her father was not amused. Alice and her mother did their best not to be amused. Yuri didn't give a shit. After relieving himself he hung drunkenly over the railing, hoping to fall in; hoping to die; hoping some black arts warlock would declare war on harmonixers and shoot him in the ass. Southampton could not come soon enough! But the ship did arrive in due course and Yuri helped with the baggage as Alice hailed a Hansom. The cab driver loaded up their gear and proceeded at break-neck speed to Alliston Road.
The Reverend Mrs. Elliot owned a small house on Alliston Road, just up from the hospital of Saints John and Elizabeth. It was an older house of mixed Edwardian elements, with gabled windows on one side and, as a testimony to England's seafaring past, a widow's walk along the roof peak. It was also in need of paint and minor repairs, as the white and green exterior had faded and chipped and several shutters hung at odd angles, the house having been left more or less abandoned since Mrs. Elliot moved to Zurich fifteen years before. There had been caretakers but the last of these had moved on leaving the house closed up. Alice sighed at the sight of the work to be done. She had Yuri deposit their bags on the second floor landing and then pointed out the dust cloths to Yuri and he began pulling sheets from the furnishings while Alice grabbed a pail and mop to begin on the upstairs floors. Mrs. Elliot saw to the kitchen and made a quick order to the market to deliver food.
Even dusty, the house had homey elements that made Yuri pause in wonder as he gathered the dust sheets from off the furniture. The front parlor windows were covered with old lace, and there were pictures hung on each of the walls; small items and knickknacks were placed carefully on the tables and fireplace, and the hall leading to the back of the house and the kitchen had photographs and small paintings of previous family members displayed along one wall across from the stairs.
When Yuri finished gathering the cloths Alice had him take a broom and mop to the downstairs floors while she finished the bedrooms. There were only two, with one each for herself and her mother; it looked like Yuri would use the servant's room at the end of the hall. She bit her lip when she realized that the caretakers had removed all the furnishings from the little room; Yuri would also have to sleep on the floor.
'Well, maybe he won't mind. After all, he slept on the ground for years.'
By the time the groceries arrived Yuri had finished digging out the first floor rooms and was helping Alice with the mopping – or so he said. However, in spite of Yuri's assistance, Alice finished the floors in time for supper. It was a simple repast of soup, vegetables and a little meat with bread. Yuri picked at his broccoli, poking it with his knife and, when satisfied it was truly dead, picked it up with his fingers.
"Is the supper all right, Yuri?" Mrs. Elliot asked, now well used to Yuri's unusual eating methods.
"Uhm, yes. I like the little trees."
Alice giggled behind her hand.
"The trees are called broccoli, Yuri. Eat your soup."
With a nod, Yuri picked up his soup bowl and drank, slurping up the noodles.
Alice sighed. 'One of these days he'll master utensils.' "Yuri, there are spoons for that. I know you know how to use them," Alice said, an aggrieved tone to her voice.
Yuri looked up as he finished the soup.
"Don't need them now, Alice."
"Why do I bother?" Alice asked softly. "You're a barbarian Yuri; uncultured, uncivilized … a heathen."
Yuri looked at Alice, his amber eyes sparkling with amusement. "I am?"
Alice kicked him under the table. "You know you are; and you do it on purpose!"
Yuri laughed while he winced. "Yes. But you agreed to marry this uncivilized barbarian, yes?"
"I can change my mind," Alice stated.
Yuri looked from Alice to her mother. Mrs. Elliot silently watched the by-play between them and refrained from comment, yet again.
"You want me to marry your daughter, yes Reverend Misses? You want to have grandkids from us, yes?"
"That's not fair!" Alice shouted, tossing down her napkin.
"I think you might be going a bit too far, young Hyuga," Alice's mother finally commented. "I love my daughter, and yes I want grandchildren. But you do take things for granted. And perhaps you need space away from us for a while."
"What?!?" both Alice and Yuri said at once.
"What are you saying, mother?"
Mrs. Elliot stirred her tea with a small spoon, circling the dark liquid in its china cup.
"I am only saying that your young man has been with you for well over a year; that he has traveled across Europe twice in your company, and has not been away from you long enough to be gainfully employed or enculturated. Perhaps if he took some time away …"
"You want me to leave?" Yuri asked, surprised.
"Mother, please. It's not like that. We weren't really fighting; you know that," Alice sat down, her oft repeated argument with Yuri forgotten.
"I know. However, he does need employment if he is to stay here. Furthermore, he needs to learn to live in England with our customs; how better than to have work somewhere?" She took a sip of her tea and sighed. "I really need some time to put my home in order here, Alice. And I do not want the sound of bickering voices, even in jest. If your beau needs to bicker, perhaps he should enlist."
"Mother! He can't! He is not English! You saw what we had to do to get him into the country!" Alice was becoming visibly upset as she picked up her napkin and worried the corners. Yuri for his part looked back and forth between the two. "We had to sign as his advocates. If he gets into trouble –"
"Then he had best not get into trouble," Mrs. Elliot said with finality. "Yuri, what kind of work did you say you had done in China?"
Yuri looked confused for a moment then sighed, putting down his own napkin that he had used to wipe the soup from his face.
"I was a fighter, a monster hunter, or wild beasts at need. I am not exorcist, but I work pretty good at that kinda thing. Oh, and I can protect Alice," he added that last with a smile. "I've also worked on ducks and sheeps," he added almost as an afterthought.
Alice and Mrs. Elliot both looked at Yuri with puzzled expressions.
"Ducks?" asked Alice.
"Sheep?"
"I don't know, mother, but he means something by that," Alice offered.
"What kind of ducks, Yuri? Mallards?"
"No," and Yuri chuckled. "Ducks. You know, where the sheeps come in. It's where I learned the English," he said with a smile.
'Oh God,' thought Alice. "He means 'docks' and 'ships', right Yuri?"
"That's what I said," he answered.
Alice sighed deeply and put her head in her hands, elbows resting on the table. "Maybe Mother is right. Maybe you do need … something; at the very least to work on your English."
"What is wrong with my English? I speak good English," Yuri protested.
Alice sighed again. "Tomorrow we'll go to the church, Yuri. Perhaps the priest has someone to help your English. And then you can also apply for work at the docks. You know where Southampton is; there are plenty of docks, wharfs, and warehousing along the river. There should be work, even in war time."
Yuri looked from Alice to Mrs. Elliot and shrugged. "I am not leaving?"
"Not if you are working," Mrs. Elliot said. "Come on, let's clean up. I am for bed."
"Okay," Yuri offered and picked up his dishes, helping the Reverend Misses with the clean up. Afterwards he followed Alice upstairs and placed the bags in the rooms, his small satchel with her carpet bag.
"Yuri, what do you think you're doing?"
"I'm sleeping here, yes?" he asked hopefully, indicating the canopy bed with its lace and ruffles.
"I don't think so," Alice said softly. "Down here." She took Yuri's satchel and led the way to the small servant's quarters at the end of the hall. "I'll get you some blankets."
Yuri stood in the doorway, one hand groping in the dark for the light switch. When he didn't find it he went to light the gas burner.
"Shit," he said looking around the brown and white painted room. "What a dump."
Alice came in with blankets and a pillow.
"Here you go. We'll get you a bed as soon as we can Yuri. I'm sorry. Just do the best you can."
Yuri took the bed linen and dumped it in the corner.
"Alice," he turned back before Alice could leave the room.
"Yes?"
With a few quick strides he was at the doorway, pulling it back open. He then reached down and pulled her into his arms and before she could protest, kissed her. He lingered over the embrace, his mouth tasting her breath and wishing for more. But before his hands could begin roaming Alice pulled away, her face burning crimson.
"Yuri, mother will notice."
"Good. She needs to know how much I love you, Alice."
"Goodnight, Yuri."
"Wan an, Alice. Wo ai ni," Yuri said softly, watching as Alice walked back down the short hallway to her bedroom and closed the door behind her. He sighed then as he turned back to his dark little room. While grumbling he began to arrange the bedding against one wall, laying out one blanket on the hardwood floor and the remaining blanket and pillow in the corner. He took his coat and belts and satchel and set them on the floor opposite the bedding and opened the window, turning down the gaslight, and then laid down with a thud on the blanket.
"What a load of shit," he said softly. 'You'd think I was gonna ...' he thought. 'Maybe I shoulda ...' He put his arms back behind his head and watched as dust motes floated in the waxing moonlight coming in from the lone window. The cold March air fogged his breath and added to his melancholy. He continued to watch each dancing speck as it gyrated in the cold air, each spiral reminding him of Alice; reminding him of Alice's little skirt; reminding him of Alice's little skirt and lacy slip and perky ... Slowly sleep whispered to him and he fell silently into its embrace.
The trip the next morning to Saint Johns Wood church left Yuri wishing for a slow boat to China. The pastor had been more interested in baptizing the heathen than in teaching him the King's English, but Alice had prevailed until that worthy had found a family willing to tutor Yuri. Their son was off to war and Yuri could spend two nights a week with them. Yuri, standing silently and listening to the plans being made for him, tightened his fists behind his back and mentally pictured the churchman in a battle against a Bifronze; a hungry Bifronze with a rust and blood encrusted scythe that sliced the air with a moan each time the creature used it. And he used it repeatedly on the hapless pastor's body, rendering the screaming and ineffectual man into a bloody and bloated corpse whose soul Yuri would refuse to drink.
"Yuri, are you coming?" Alice asked yet again. She stood at the door of the church watching as Yuri daydreamed in front of the altar. He looked like he was praying, except that Alice could tell, with his hands behind him and his fists clenched, he was doing aught of praying.
Startled Yuri looked up and Alice caught a gleam of red in his eyes before they returned to their usual amber.
"Yes, I am here. Coming, Alice."
Their next stop was the trolley stand where they could catch a public bus for the docks. If Yuri could get work there, then his employment problem was solved. If not, then they both would have to take on jobs as exorcist and assistant. Alice personally didn't mind, but knew her mother would much prefer it if she remained home for at least a while. She could volunteer in the local hospitals, offering her magical aide to those who were returning from the Western Front in need of more than what medicals the doctors could offer.
Once the trolley arrived they boarded and Yuri pushed their way to the rear. He scowled at a businessman who was sitting in the only available seat until the man began to sweat and relinquished his seat for Alice. For herself, Alice was doing her best not to laugh, as Yuri's scowls could be quite frightening, especially if he let his mood enter his eyes - which reminded her.
"Yuri, what upset you at the church? Did something happen while I was speaking to the pastor?"
Yuri shook his head and bent down closer to Alice.
"I don't like him that is all. And he doesn't like me. No problem."
Alice looked up into Yuri's face, noting the way he avoided looking directly at her.
"It's the lessons, isn't it? You don't want to go, do you?"
"Well, no. And especially if I am going to be treated to a nightly sermon on the evils of my soul," he added.
"I doubt they would do that," Alice chided him.
"You think not? You think he won't tell them to?"
Looking up at the young harmonixer, Alice had to think for a moment in order to see the world through his eyes. He was a roguish looking young man, with eyes that could charm or terrorize; lips that could quickly carry a smirk to its highest form, and an overall Eurasian complexion that she found pleasant but knew that others might not. It stamped him as Foreign. He was a ruffian; a vulgar, uneducated man that anyone would look at with disdain. He would have felt that disdain for most of his life and he would have felt much, much more. He had grown up alone, without family and friendless. How much he would have longed for companionship she could only guess, remembering well how lonely he had felt to her when they first met. Loneliness and despair as his only comrades, and a need to avoid society; for society would have condemned him, not only for his crudeness but for his birthright as well. Darkness Class, Harmonixer, Fusionist; three dangerous combinations, any one of which would have him condemned in any church in Europe, and certainly had caused him much pain in China. He would have heard before the lessons of his dark soul, the evil in him that needed to be expunged. No, she could not blame him for thinking it would be that way again.
"Well, will you at least give it a try before making a decision?" she asked after a while.
Yuri looked down at the delightful pixie in the seat. She had been thinking all this time; probably about him. He shook his head slightly, sending the overlong locks cascading into his eyes, shading them from view. She always knew what to say to pinch his conscience; to make him do what was right, even if he didn't want anything to do with it.
'She's that way,' he thought. 'Even when I wanted to smack that irksome Halley around a bit more she insisted I leave him be. She was right; he just needed to think and then act. He was a good kid; I was proud to have him at my back against Albert Simon and god.' Yuri's thoughts flitted from the past to the present as the trolley came to a halt and they debarked, heading down the street to the wharf. Now his thoughts were of employment; a means of making money legally, and a potential future with Alice.
The freighter Nikolai Karamzin had pulled into dock late in the night, her cargo holds empty and begging for fill. Yuri had slept on his feet, standing in line for work which would not come until sunup, his arms wrapped around his chest trying to keep warm. It was early February and he was freezing in the cold night air. He had left Vladivostok in mid January, his precipitous exit brought about by the American Consul, and he had quickly found himself in trouble. It was one thing to be on the road penniless and with nothing in the summer, and quite another thing in winter. He had kept to the side of the road leading north past Ussuriysk, praying some transport would make its way up north. But Primorye Territory was not known for its heavy traffic in winter so Yuri shivered. He shivered until he came to the outskirts of Ussuriysk where he spotted his one chance at survival: a gypsy caravan camped in the fields outside of town. Gypsy's were no more popular in Siberia than anywhere else, but they did travel widely, bringing their skills, their music, and their fortune telling and other things with them. But where they would not trust an outsider in their camp, especially in the middle of the night, they could be counted on to have the one thing that Yuri desperately needed: a horse. By dawn of the next day when they realized they were missing a horse, Yuri was crossing the border into Manchuria.
He had ridden that horse down through Changchun Prefecture and over to Lushun, called Port Arthur by the Russians, and located a little south of Dalian; he had set about working. He avoided the thieves' guilds and gangs that were just as prevalent here as elsewhere, trying to keep a low profile with the government and a higher profile with the dock foreman. Today appeared promising with work on the Nikolai looking to last at least a week and the prospect of money chinking in his pocket made Yuri smile. The next instant the smile disappeared as a sound shrieked through the night air, a scream of unbelievable volume followed by an explosion that rocked the docks. Yuri was instantly alert, his eyes shifting to spectral for the presence of demons. But there were none as he realized a moment later when another explosion sent the waiting dock workers to their knees.
"It is bombs!" one man shouted as he stood above the others, clinging to the lower part of a loading crane. "It is ships and they are firing at us!"
"No!" another man yelled. "They are firing at the Fleet!"
"Boshmoi! We must get away! It's the Japans!"
Yuri was instantly glad he had not revealed his last name, using instead the Ivanovich that had held him in good stead in Vladivostok. A moment later the workers and ship's crew that had been ashore, began fleeing for their lives. The Japanese, finally disgusted with the political impasse offered by the Russian government, had taken matters firmly in hand. Catching part of the Russian Fleet at bay in Port Arthur, they began bombardment, decimating the Russian ships and destroying the docking facilities and any civilian ship in port. The Russian ships sank in the harbor up to their gunwales and sailors died by the hundreds while thirteen year old Yuri fled for his life.
The war in Europe had gone from bad to worse since the unofficial Christmas truce; the "Race to the Sea" as the newspapers called it, had failed and neither the Central Powers forces nor the combined French army or British Expeditionary Force were able to secure sole access to the northern coast of France and thus stopping any forward movement. The Germans were now deeply entrenched along a 400 mile stretch from Ypres in Belgium to the Swiss border. The French and English did the same. The German navel forces which had been actively attacking British shipping on the high seas were now also blockading the Irish Sea, and attacking any ship flying the British colors, including passenger liners had now issued warnings to all shipping going in or out of British waters: enter at peril of their lives. U-boats plied the waters of the British Isles and used torpedoes to sink ships that might be carrying contraband: armaments, shell casings, explosives and even medical supplies. The British internal security was tightened with any foreign agent being taken into custody for the duration, much as was being done in Switzerland with anyone from a hostile country, and the ports became a hotbed of intrigue and security. The army stationed a platoon to watch incoming ships and regularly run checks on the laborers.
Yuri stood at the harbormaster's office, waiting patiently to sign up for work. With Army security added, it prevented men like Yuri, undocumented foreigners, from getting too close; and in his case, getting any work.
'It was a good thing Alice had come,' he thought. 'If not I'd probably be headed for prison or something.'
Alice had presented the documents she had vouched for from the port authority allowing Yuri into the country. The harbormaster took his time in looking over the voucher, making a quick call to the local police and the dockside Captain in charge of the Army. When the Army arrived Yuri was standing at rigid attention, watching every move the handful of soldiers made as they filed out of their truck and took up positions. However a few minutes later a police constable also arrived and Yuri now began to sweat, thoughts of prison, chains and torture running through his mind as rapidly as his pulse. Finally Alice stepped outside.
"Yuri," she called. "Come inside."
