Chapter 11
A/N: I don't own anything. And if you haven't killed me by now, dear readers, you will by the end of this chapter. Yuri angst, Koudelka angst and James is figuring it all out. Don't know which is scarier! Oh, and – bloody battle alert!
Patrick Heyworth's mansion was beyond anything Yuri had ever seen in his life; to either side of the main doors and to their left, stood two magnificent marble statues, graceful in their feminine form. To the right was a grand staircase leading straight up to the second floor where candles flickered in sconces of polished brass. With his mouth open in bedazzled confusion, he followed Koudelka as she explored the first floor, passing down a side hallway and through a side door to another room, this one lined with gold and rococo scrollwork. In one wall was a strange device and Yuri poked at it finding that it had sprockets with little metal teeth.
"What the hell is this thing I wonder?" he asked and Koudelka shrugged. She was pulling on the handles beneath the device, opening drawers. James joined them and was looking at the machine.
"Hey James, yer a smart one; what is that thing?" Yuri asked, still poking at it.
James snorted softly. "It's a phonographic device, for playing music, you lout," he responded.
Yuri scowled at the priest, and then chuckled quietly. "Yeah, I remember seeing one before, now you mention it. It was in a rich man's house."
James looked at Yuri, his eyebrow raised. "And you stole it?"
Yuri chose to take the remark with humor and shook his head. "No, no," he laughed. "It was too big to go through the window."
James smiled back at the thief. "So, what did you steal? The man's jewels?"
Yuri snorted. "No, clothes mostly, and food."
"Clothes – why?"
"Well, beats being naked," Yuri laughed and walked away, "'sides, that was before I was muscle for the ga—, ah, never mind."
Koudelka, still searching the panels, pulled open the last drawer. Inside was a handmade leather book. She pulled it out and opened the clasp, revealing its pages filled with writing and drawings.
"I think this is Patrick's notebook," she said and offered it to James. He took it and looked carefully at the first few pages, and began to read. After a minute, James looked up in shock at Koudelka and shook his head.
"I don't want to believe this; I cannot believe this," he said. "Could he have been this mad?"
Koudelka shrugged. "Let's go on then shall we?"
Yuri meanwhile had wandered around the highly decorated room and had reached the far end with its large paneled door with brass and gold fittings. He shoved it open and stepped into a much dimmer and more sedate chamber, though no less opulent. It was a portrait gallery; the walls were rich with blue and gold tapestries, with portraits hung in several places, and at the far end, blackened and silent: an abandoned font.
"Anyone taking money there's another monster in there?" Yuri said with a smirk. "I'll give ya even odds."
Koudelka snorted and walked down to the fountain and climbed up to the water font. She waited a minute, trying to sense anything at the fountain.
"There's nothing here," she said and turned back to Yuri. That was a mistake, for as she turned, a dark miasma formed at the foot of the font and a shape moved from the shadows, a long tentacle pulling back and then slamming into Koudelka, throwing her across the room.
Yuri cried out and ran to her, pulling her unconscious body out of the way, as the monster moved off the platform and into the room. This creature was an odd assortment of monstrosities: a ball of dark, fibrous material with four human legs and feet attached to the base that pushed it across the floor in a bent and awkward fashion, while above that there was a long muscular stalk that ended in another bulbous mass with three long, whip-like tentacles and one other appendage with a sharp razor-like tip.
"Don't just stand there James, shoot the damned thing!" Yuri yelled at the priest while he made sure Koudelka was far enough back to be out of harm's way. He then turned to assist the priest, who had loaded his rifle and was pumping round after round into the monster to no effect.
"It's no good, Yuri. The bullets don't seem to bother it," James said, when he paused to reload.
"Yeah, I noticed."
"Koudelka?"
"Unconscious, but alive. It might just be the two of us. What say we find this thing's weakness," Yuri said and then jumped in to rake the claws over the nearest leg, scoring the flesh, but almost instantly the tissue regenerated and Yuri scowled. 'Why is it never easy?'
James had set down his rifle and was summoning magic while Yuri pondered the best fusion to use against this creature. Yuri was thinking possibly fire again when the thing suddenly began to quiver and its limbs waived wildly and, in the next heartbeat, he found himself lying flat on his back, a jolt of energy having left the monster's waiving tentacles and grounded on him. Yuri's ears were ringing and his head spinning; whatever kind of magic that thing had, it was powerful, and Yuri shook his head as he climbed to his feet. In the next instant, a wave of fire burst over the creature, bathing it in a magical flare, but although it shivered in pain, it did not retreat. Yuri snorted.
"Not powerful enough James; you need more practice," he said.
James sighed, looking at the smirking young fighter. "Try helping then, thief. Turn into one of your demons and assist in God's work."
Yuri's smirk faded only a little and he nodded, pulling Forron once more and merging with the huge fire fusion. With a gleeful growl, Forron summoned hellfire, thrusting open the gates to flood the room with a blazing inferno and then jumping in behind the wall of fire to grab a flailing tentacle. He pulled the creature closer with the tentacle, and grabbed the neck-like stalk. He then traded the tentacle for a handful of its lower body, and with a grunt, lifted the thing over his head and tossed it against the far wall. The wall cracked when the monster hit it, bits of rococo decoration falling as dust and plaster and Forron followed through with more fire – flaming magma sweeping over the strange hybrid monster as it struggled to rise.
James, watching Yuri's demon demolish the decorations and dealing lethal blows on the monster, recognized he was better off tending to Koudelka. He scurried behind Forron and knelt at Koudelka's side; she was still unconscious, her breathing shallow and slow. He concentrated on the healing magic she had taught him and gathered it into his hands. Cupped before him, his hands began to glow an earthy green and sparkles of white energy bubbled over his fingers and trickled like fairy dust to the floor; when he felt the spell was ready, he opened his hands and lay them on Koudelka, watching as the healing spell's energy flowed over and into the unconscious woman. After a minute, she blinked her eyes and slowly sat up, a look of surprise then gratitude offered to James for his help.
"Yuri?" she asked, and her answer was an echoing bellow from the area of the font. Both she and James looked toward the noise and saw the huge fusion surrounded by flames and magma, standing with the monster in his hands raised above his head and, with the sickening sound of rending flesh, tore the monster in half, ganglions and tendrils of muscle and sinew draped around him like ribbons and a thin, bubbling black ichor oozing from the twitching monster. With brash self-confidence, Forron slammed the two halves of the monster down into the flames and they ignited, filling the air with rancid smoke.
Rising to her feet, Koudelka shuddered. She carefully dusted off her clothes before approaching the monster, his skin still smoking from the heat of his hellfire flames. She stood in front of him, looking up into his dark eyes, trembling slightly as nervous fear fought with courage to confront the creature. The eyes were the windows of the soul, and she could see Yuri's eyes in the face of the horrifying demon standing before her.
"You enjoy that, don't you?" she asked inanely and then gasped when the fusion was released in a blur and Yuri stood before her, human once more.
"Yeah, I guess," he answered, one grimy hand wiping away sweat and spreading even more filth over his face.
James walked past them, saying nothing, not even looking at them as he approached the dark fountain. He stepped up to the marble bowl, its surface black with soot and crossed himself, offered a blessing to the font, then knelt in prayer. After a minute his blessing and prayers were answered with a burble of clear water bubbling up from below.
"Well," Yuri said watching the priest, "he's a bundle of laughs."
"Yuri, you frighten him; you frighten me," Koudelka said and Yuri, startled, looked down at the smaller woman with a look of pain in his eyes. The sense of their closeness, his feelings of affection for her surfaced and then dashed against the wall of her words.
"I don't mean to," he said softly, and walked down the room to the door. He paused at a portrait set prominently on one wall. It was that of a beautiful, demure young woman and the portrait was framed in gold and with a small nameplate.
"So," he said, "this is Elaine?"
Koudelka joined him and looked at the portrait, the young woman standing with her hands together before her, dressed in a flowing gown of fine material, with lace at collar and cuff, and standing in a lovely garden. She had a sweet face, unprepossessing, and eyes that smiled but also wore just a shade of sadness.
"Yes, she is the one I had the psychic vision of."
James hearing Elaine's name came to them and looked up the portrait, his eyes suddenly tearing up and a shaking hand reached out to touch the frame. He had hoped and prayed that what Koudelka had revealed was a lie; that Patrick, the friend of his school days, would not have let the women of their dreams die so ignominiously. But seeing her portrait, her sad and lonely eyes looking out at him, James knew with a certainty that she was dead. His head rested a moment on the frame, his eyes closed.
Looking at James, Koudelka asked, "Do you doubt it?"
James shook his head, sadly. "No. It is she," he said softly, regretfully, pushing himself away from the painting.
"Good, then let's begin," Koudelka said and facing the portrait, closed her eyes, her arms bent upward in front of her as she began to focus her mind and soul, concentrating on summoning the spirit of the dead woman. After a moment, she moaned and slumped to her knees, exhaustion warring with resolve, her breath coming in short quick pants and in front of her, stepping out of the framed picture, was the near transparent spirit of Elaine Heyworth. The lady looked at James first, her ghostly features warming, and she smiled, transforming in that one moment, into a shadow of the radiantly beautiful girl she had been in life.
"It has been a long time indeed, Mr. O'Flaherty," she said and her voice was melody in motion, fluid, sweet, and distant. "It is such a pity that we meet again, under these circumstances."
"Oh, Elaine… is that really you?" James asked, reaching toward her.
Elaine nodded once and then turned toward Koudelka and Yuri. Yuri had bent and helped Koudelka to her feet once more, offering his strong arms to support her and letting her lean against him.
"And this is the one that responded to my call, is it not? Thank you for doing this for someone like myself," Elaine said.
Koudelka nodded, "Yes."
"Elaine," James interrupted, "I – Please, tell me how this happened to you?"
Elaine turned ghostly eyes to James once more and gestured with one hand, her manner like that of a lady serving tea in the parlor, both graceful and gentle. "Of course I will explain," she said clearly. "Eighteen years ago, James, I was murdered by some thieves that broke into my home."
"Damn," muttered Yuri.
"I was helpless. Patrick and Ogden were out on business, and there was nothing I could do."
James turned and paced to the door, the news of her murder filling his heart with anger and a brief thought of revenge. He waited, his eyes burning holes in the carpet before turning back, his gestures both angry and beseeching.
"I will not accept this," he declared, shaking his head. "This should not have happened," he said, choosing denial.
"Yes," Elaine said softly. "Patrick responded the same exact way. He could not accept my death; he spent years perfecting his craft in wizardry. He tried everything in his power to bring me back to life."
"Resurrecting the dead," Yuri said and Koudelka looked up at him, startled once more, recalling he had said something similar before.
"Is this a joke?" James asked, his look of horror belying his question.
"He was taking it very seriously, and he found the key to actually make it happen."
"The Émigré Document," James said.
"Yes. With Ogden's assistance and the power of the ancient Druids, he held a resurrection ceremony in this monastery, but…"
"But something went wrong, didn't it?" Koudelka added.
"He only resurrected my physical body. As you can see," and she made a gesture that encompassed herself and the monastery, "my soul is still doomed to roam the universe… forever separated from my body. And the terrifying thing is that my body was resurrected as a heartless monster."
James reached out to the ghostly woman, as if to offer her comfort. "Oh, God," he breathed.
"Although the monster may look like me, it is not me. Mr. O'Flaherty, please, turn my body into ashes with your power."
"Ashes?" James said, "If – if I do that, we won't be able to bring you back to life!"
"What? You want a monster instead of a woman, James? Yer sick," Yuri said and James rounded on him.
"Shut up thief!" he shouted.
"Mr. O'Flaherty, I was robbed of my life by those thieves and I could hate them as mortal enemies, but I do not. Nor do I blame this one who has come to help," Elaine continued. "Rather, I choose to think that my death was preordained by the Lord. Please, do not mourn my death; it was wrong of Patrick to try to resurrect me – to undo the work of God." The ghostly woman paused, watching James shake his head in denial, his face working through the emotions he was trying so hard not to feel. "Please, do not be sad," she continued. "Death is at the heart of God's vision. I want you to destroy my body. Its existence defies the wise providence of Heaven. It must not exist in this world," she said and her ghostly form dwindled like smoke and vanished back into the portrait.
As Elaine faded into the portrait, James let out a cry of despair, collapsing to his knees on the cold stone floor and pounding the floor with his fist, tears flowing unheeded from his eyes and sobs of pain issuing from his clenched jaw.
"Elaine, God! What a cruel world!" he sobbed. "I gave up everything for your happiness and now… what am I left with? I have no meaning in my life! Damn it! What have I been doing with my life?" he shouted, looking up once more at the portrait of the woman he loved and lost. "Elaine!"
Yuri looked down at James and nudged him with his foot. "Tsk, come on James, cryin' won't bring her back," he said.
"Leave me alone," James said through his distress and Koudelka nodded, taking Yuri's sleeve and pulling him back toward the font.
"Let's take a breather and give James a chance to deal with this," she said.
Yuri tilted his head to look at her closer as they walked back to the font.
"You feelin' okay?"
Koudelka sighed. "Tired, my head hurts, my body hurts..."
"Ah, everything normal," Yuri said with a grin.
Koudleka glanced up at him as she climbed back up onto the font platform. "This is normal for you?"
Yuri chuckled and rubbed his head with his hands, one claw nicking him and a trickle of blood running down the blade.
"Watch yourself with those things, Yuri," she said and then scooped up a handful of water to wash her face.
Yuri laughed softly and sat down next to the font, his back to the wall.
"Yeah," he said breathily, "I always do that." He leaned back and closed his eyes, letting his breathing become steady. He knew that before this night was over he would have to fight again, and there would be at least two fights, both tough. He really needed a nap, but doubted James would let him sleep long. He could hear James' muffled sobs subside into quiet prayers and he heard Koudelka sit down across from him, and a small part wished she would sit next to him, but then his mind wandered and he slept.
The fire in the cooking pit was banked and the pot had been swung back to cool, the miso soup nearly gone and the rice as well. Yuri sat at his lessons, struggling grumpily to master the letters and numbers that his mother had set him but really not wanting to concentrate on them at all. His mind couldn't focus; his heart more on the imminent return of his father from working away. Each year his father left for work and each time Yuri wanted him to stay; of course, he didn't tell either his mother or his father that. He wanted to be adventuring too, but with his dad, not staying home learning his letters and numbers.
"Yuri, concentrate dear," his mother said and he looked up to see her beautiful face smiling at him. His heart beat fast and he smiled, hanging his head.
"But I don't wanna," he said with a whine in his voice.
Anne walked quietly across the small family room of their home and knelt across the fire from him.
"If you won't learn your lessons, then you can pray with me," she said.
Yuri scowled, puckering up his face like a prune. "Men don't pray," he said, and then blushed when his mother laughed.
"You might be surprised," she answered and pulled out her beads.
"Medetashi seichou michimiteru Maria, shu onmi to tomoni mashimasu onmi wa on'na no uchinite shukuserare," Anne recited and her voice faded into echoes of memory and Yuri took up the words, muttering them in his sleep, his voice barely above a whisper.
James looked up startled from his kneeling prayers and listened. He looked at Yuri, leaning crookedly against the wall, his eyes closed, yet muttering something that sounded almost like…
"Yuri, what are those words?" he asked and rose to join them at the font.
Startled, Yuri sat up, his heart pounding fast and a bewildered expression on his face.
"Huh?"
"Those words you were saying; was that Japanese?"
Yuri thought a moment, recalling a fragment of his dream, the soft voice of his mother, and his expression softened. "Yeah, it's a prayer my mom and dad used to say," he answered then chuckled softly. "Well my dad would say it too, but then he'd leave and mom would make sure I said it with her. It's funny," and he rubbed his eyes with his hand and looked up at the holy fountain, the water bubbling softly in the font. "I - I'm actually surprised I remember that after all this time; because the past seems so much clearer to me than what happened this morning." He shook his head. "I keep hoping I'm doing this right. That I'm actually fixing the mess I made." He grew silent again and looked at the holy font, watching as water bubbled and glistened in the font. "Please God, let me be doing this right," he whispered.
Yuri rose to his feet and used the bubbling holy water to wash his face and hands, letting the cool waters sluice away the grime and dirt and repair his fatigue. He didn't feel any more energized, but the accumulation of aches and pains from that last fights dimmed into vague memory and with one final handful, he drank his fill.
Without a backward glance, the three of them left the portrait room and went back to the main hall, Koudelka pausing to look up the long expanse of the staircase.
"Up there you think?" Yuri asked.
"Just what are we looking for? We know that Patrick tried to raise Elaine from the dead, but what can we do now? What is there for us to do?" James asked, bewildered.
"Find the thing that Elaine has become, James," Yuri provided. "It's probably inside the church. Any idea how to get in there?"
Koudelka, climbing the long stairs, glanced back at Yuri and found him looking off in the direction of the church, his eyes glassy.
"Yuri?"
"Huh? What?" he turned to climb the stairs, rescued from tripping by Koudelka's call. "Okay, I got it; watch where I'm goin', right?"
Koudelka shook her head and smiled, wondering just how much of that was buffoonery and how much was Yuri. She climbed the rest of the stairs and took the right hand path leading to a heavy door. She pushed on it and entered a small vestibule that curved around to another door and when she opened that, she stopped in surprise. A large room opened to her view, with tall bookshelves on the right, each shelf over-flowing with tomes and scrolls, and in the center of the room, was several piles of books, and papers were strewn everywhere. And squatting in the middle of this was the old mummy they had discovered earlier.
"It must be here, I saw it here, I put it here," he was muttering as he shuffled through papers and knocked aside a pile of old books.
"Roger? What are you doing here?" Koudelka said, surprised.
"Research, what else," the old monk replied and, turning his bent and angular frame in her direction looked both startled and pleased by her presence. "Ah, I see you've brought your noisy friends," he said.
"Noisy?" Yuri asked and stepped inside the library and crossed the room, squatting down to look up at Roger. "Funny, last time I saw you, you were in a coffin. You alive now? You talkin' ta me?" he asked, leaning in close to the old fossil.
Roger looked down at the young man in front of him and chuckled. "Well of course I am, and you are noisy; running around, shouting, fighting ..." he tisked. "A man can hardly get any work done with you two here," he said and his gesture included James.
James humphed and brought the research notes forward, offering them to the old man.
"If you are indeed that same Roger Bacon of old," he began.
"I am he, Roger Bacon, born in 1214 and alive to this present date," the old fossil responded, straightening himself a bit. "I am author to several books, including my Opus Meijus, but I suppose my greatest work to date would be my coping and translation of the Émigré Document."
"The Émigré – yes, I thought you might know about that book," James finished.
"Roger, what about the Émigré - and those notes? Is it true what it says: did Patrick try to resurrect the dead?" Koudelka asked.
Roger took the notebook and flipped open the first page, scanning quickly over several more, his waspish voice reading out a word or phrase as he did so. Eventually he stopped and, still holding the research notes, turned to face Koudelka.
"Yes, yes it is more than likely the experiments written of here were in fact performed. You see, the Émigré unravels the secrets of life. It speaks of the secret rituals conducted by the ancient race of Fomors centuries before Christ: immortality. The Fomors would claim the lives of the resurrected as their own." Roger paced across the cluttered floor, looking at first Yuri then back to Koudelka. "They reversed the laws of nature and the cycle of life. When the Druids took over the Celts, Alexander the Great penned the Émigré document in Greek for placement in the Great Library"
"Resurrecting the dead," Koudelka muttered and then suddenly looked at Yuri, remembering he had said something like that earlier in the night.
"This document has long been considered the most dangerous work of literature," Roger continued. "It was safely guarded in the caverns of the supreme pontiff's quarters. But, apparently, the book was not able to stand the wears of time over generations, and the Pope decreed that a new edition be created, copying the full text. That is where I came in," and Roger couldn't resist the chance to preen a little before continuing. "The Pope requested that I copy the book, word for word...and when the work was finished, I was apparently supposed to be killed. But I am not one to be dealt with so carelessly! I secretly escaped, and eventually I made my way to the sacred land referred to in the text of the Émigré document."
"All right, then how do we get rid of a monster created by this document," Koudelka asked. "Elaine says Patrick..."
"Yes, yes. There is a way," Roger interrupted, waving his hands and looking up at James. Yuri stood up, settling his fists on his hips, waiting. "It will require the sacred relic of Daniel Scotius; it was buried inside a statue somewhere on the grounds. You find that, and you will be able to break the magic of the cauldron created by Patrick's experiments."
"Cauldron..." Yuri said echoing Roger's words and suddenly he felt dizzy, the library fading in and out of his vision. In the next moment he fell to his knees, skin pale and eyes shading from brown to amber before he fell over onto his side, unconscious.
Yuri's mind was spinning. Roger's words - the cauldron, the ghostly miasma of Nemeton that day - the pretty blonde girl falling to her knees, the feeling of oppression making her heart race. Yuri knelt beside her, his hand reaching out to support her and he watched as she turned suddenly to dust, her body desiccated from the Spirit Machine and he held her in his arms, cursing himself for being a stupid fool. Zhuzhen knelt beside him, taking his hand from the corpse of the young girl.
"It's not your fault," he said.
"The fuck it's not! I shoulda come sooner," Yuri cried and shaking off the old man, ran up the spiral stairs to the rooftop. His boots pounded up the ramp and he exploded onto the roof, slamming the door off its hinges in his haste. But he was too late, the old bastard Dehuai had begun his summoning and there it was - the Reverse Demon's Gate and the Thing he was calling. Looking up, Yuri knew that he would have to take it on alone; the old man below would be no help, nor the stupid blonde spy. With a shrug, he ran toward the monster, his mind a momentary gibber as he cursed himself. 'God damned stupid harmonixer from hell.'
His body rose up on the winds of his power, reaching out with his soul, he merged with the huge God of the Earth, the Seraphic Radiance, and the war for supremacy began. Surprisingly he got the first handhold and held on for dear life; but then he looked down at the earth below, and that smiling ass, Bacon ... where had he come from? And that old fart, Zhuzhen, was shaking his staff at him, and fuck them if they didn't understand! When he looked back at the monster, he saw the red, red eyes looking at him and he knew - he knew he'd lost and it was all his own stupid fault. His fault for being a harmonixer, his fault for being his father's son, his fault for being late. 'If I had listened to that damned voice...'
"Yuri!" Koudelka was saying and shaking him by the shoulder. "Yuri will you wake up!"
Yuri opened sleep clogged eyes and looked up at Koudelka, her hair mussed and her face puffy.
"You been cryin'?" he asked inanely.
"No; I need the midwife – now!" she said and he looked down at her swollen belly, swollen with his children. Jumping up he grabbed her waist, pulling her close.
"It's time? Oh my god, oh my god, where? What? Shit!" he babbled then kissed her and ran down the hall to the stairs.
"Yuri! Your pants!"
"Can't you keep that in your pants? My god!" the blonde exclaimed and the tone of exasperation was belied when Yuri turned to look at the spy and caught her covering her giggles. They were in the Nemeton ruins and Yuri had been caught climbing, his trench coat snagging a piece of metal. Stuck, he'd asked Margarete to help him, but her answer was to grab his legs and pull, removing Yuri from the jagged metal and his pants too.
"If you hadn't ripped my pants I would," the now half-naked fusionist replied. "Now get me the sewing needle before I decide the best way to cover this is inside you!"
"Promises, promises," the spy said and walked away, laughing.
Yuri felt a pressure on his shoulder and looked up. Koudelka stood above him; her lacy top almost holding her in safely and he reached up to touch and got a boot to the ribs.
"Huh? What?" he sat up and looked around. He was still in the library, James and Roger speaking softly in one corner while he... he had been lying on his back, draped over a pile of books. "What am I doing down here?" he asked and jumped to his feet.
"You tell me," Koudelka said, stepping back. "You got dizzy and fainted. I've been trying to wake you for over ten minutes."
"Ah - oh, sorry. I don't know what..." he paused and remembered Roger's words about a cauldron. "Alice," he said softly, his eyes blurring at the edges.
Roger and James finished speaking and Roger approached them on bent and wobbly legs. "Who is Alice?" he asked.
"The girl he accidentally killed," Koudelka replied as she offered Yuri a bit of cheese from her pack. He refused, shaking his head.
"No," James said, "that was someone else," and he was looking intently at Koudelka. "What happened?"
"Um, really," Yuri was fishing about himself as a distraction, patting himself down, looking for something, then suddenly reached into his pant's pocket. "Hey Roger, are these important too?" he asked and handed over the packet he had thrust into his trousers before; the ribbon wrapped letters bent and crushed from his pocket.
"Wait! Where did you get those?" Koudelka asked, pulling the packet of ribbon-tied envelopes from Yuri's hand.
"Um, the safe in the library," he said.
Koudelka paused in removing the ribbon and glared at him. "That safe was locked. How did you get the combination?"
"Well," he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck again, "I didn't; I just sorta opened it."
"Without the combination?" she asked again, and when Yuri didn't respond, she nodded. "That's how you broke your hand, isn't it?"
"Well, um," Yuri hesitated, looking down at the worn carpet, the toe of one boot digging at a rent, tearing it more before he stopped and shrugged. "Let's go, okay?" Without waiting for a response, Yuri headed for the door, his stride quick and sure and just a heartbeat slower than a run.
"What are those?" James asked.
"Letters," Koudelka said, opening the first and reading it. "From the Queen of Hanover to her daughter, Charlotte."
"Oh my god," James whispered.
As they slowly followed Yuri out to the second floor landing, Koudelka read the first few letters to James.
"Seems her mother married someone she didn't love; an arranged marriage. The girl's father was her lover, not her husband. Charlotte was taken away and her mother locked up inside Alden castle, unknowing about what had happened to her daughter. The whole time she thought Charlotte was growing up, prospering." Koudelka skipped ahead to the last letter in the pack and sighed. "This last letter is dated two years after Charlotte was murdered."
James shook his head. "Why did Yuri hold on to those I wonder?"
Koudelka shrugged and placed the letters in her pouch. "Who knows? He's not always …" she hesitated.
"Rational?"
Koudelka's lips made a delicate moue, "Yes," she responded and crossed the landing to the far door and stepped through. James paused, looking back at the door to the library and then around at the opulent home that had belonged to his old friend Patrick. He silently marveled at the artistic grace and style that Patrick displayed in the main foyer, but at the same time, the richness bothered him; such a waste of money better spent on the works of God. But no, Patrick had spent his wealth buying arts, and treasures and forbidden magicks to raise up the one he loved. And at the thought of love, James paused, his mind frozen on a single thought. Love, the things one will do for love; and Yuri.
'He's mad, she's mad, we're all mad,' he thought. 'But he's in love, as I once was.' He crossed the landing and paused at the door, his hand on the handle and his eyes suddenly wide. 'He's here to fix something; he accidentally killed someone and it wasn't this Alice person.' His heart was racing and he felt drops of perspiration bead up on his forehead. "Sweet Jesu," he muttered softly then opened the door.
Voices were raised and James looked around to find that Koudelka and Yuri had gone on through another door at the end of the bedroom. This room too was opulent, with a roaring fireplace, ancient tomes and scrolls on the bookshelf and further in a four-poster bed with thick comforters and pillows. Just past the bedroom, James hesitated at the door. Koudelka and Yuri were arguing beyond.
"You should have told me, Yuri. It might have helped! God damn you are dense sometimes!"
"I am not! How was I supposed to know they were important? I can't read the damned things!"
Koudelka shook the packet of letters in his face and snorted. "You could have told me and I would have read them. We didn't need to condemn that girl to hell because you are an illiterate ass!"
"I am not illit – illit – what you said. I can read; I just couldn't make out the fancy writing is all."
Yuri was pacing back and forth in front of a large worktable in Patrick's laboratory area; the room was lined with cupboards and equipment, scales, weights and notebooks. He stopped at the fireplace and was kicking at a handle wielded to the floor.
"I didn't mean to, besides, she's not in hell, she's in here," and he tapped his chest.
"What?" Koudelka crossed the floor in a heartbeat and, grabbing his elbow, spun him around. "What do you mean by that?"
Yuri looked down at the floor, his vision of the world tumbling and twisting; Koudelka was yelling at him, and he could hear her screaming at him to hurry up and catch the train and he was mad because he didn't have any money and she wasn't believing him – and she was standing in front of him telling him he'd sent some dead girl to hell but he knew she was in his graveyard.
"Yuri!"
"She's here," he tapped his chest, "in my graveyard. Where I keep the fusions is all."
Koudelka stepped back, eyes blinking rapidly. "Ex- explain what you mean Yuri. I – I need to understand," Koudelka said, her voice growing suddenly quiet.
Yuri looked up at her and saw her staring at him with flashing brown eyes and he wanted to explain, but he was nervous; they had just met, and the train was gone and damn but there were monsters all around. Why did she have to look at him with those big blue eyes? It made his knees weak and then when he came, saying she had made it happen, he was afraid. He was afraid of her; he was afraid of him, he was afraid of himself and how the hell could he explain all that?
"Yuri?" Koudelka asked, finally reaching out to touch his arm again. "Are you with me, Yuri?" she asked.
"I – I can explain, I really can. Well, sort of," he said and his eyes drifted back down to the floor, seeing the tufts of weeds growing out of the dry dirt and wisps of fog floating over his feet. "I kill monsters; an' I absorb their malice … um, their hatred of me killin' them – their souls- and I make the fusions from them. But the girl, well, she's not really there. I mean," he rubbed his face with one hand and looked up at the ceiling. "I mean, she is and she isn't because I don't really need to make another and I'll probably just let her go. Do you understand what I'm tryin' to say, Alice?"