This is Chapter 6 in the series.- Wild
The Prince
November 20th, 1998
Where we are headed, I do not know. The moment school let out for Thanksgiving Break, I was ordered to fly to London for a Special Assignment. Cassiopeia picked me up at the airport. As instructed, I waited on the curb outside Gatwick for more than two hours in the cold and driving rain for her arrival. Waiting for her is now expected after several missions together, though I know better than to ever make her wait from me. I'm beginning to get the impression that she purposefully makes me wait. Teaching me yet another silent lesson on patience and holding my temper, I suppose. I never said anything to her while climbing into the car when she finally did arrive and she seemed pleasantly surprised, if I could ever describe the woman as such, to get no attitude or scornful looks from me about her tardiness. I wanted to tell her, 'yes, I am learning' but I thought that just might piss her off so I keep silent. No sense in poking the bear anymore. She's trying to help keep me alive after all. I
In the past nearly five months, I'd been doing a great deal of solo missions, mostly trying out my new seduction skill set, and going on the occasional mission with my team. I'd seen Mikael only a couple of times here and there between my missions given how busy we both were with school, work, and everything in between. I hadn't seen Cassiopeia at all in that time which was very odd, especially given the new phase of my training as a Siren and the associated missions that followed. She had always been present at every single stage in my training and suddenly, Cassiopeia had disappeared from my life completely. At first I thought, maybe it was because she disagreed with Command's decision to start using me as a Siren; but Nyah told me Cassiopeia was given time off after a deep cover assignment that was extended after another First Gen, Draco, was killed while on that same mission with her in October. All the First Gens were taking it hard. I knew that Cassiopeia would take it especially hard given she was not only his partner on that mission but also their Team Leader and General. Every First Gen was a member of her family. A family they'd created together as the First Class of EHW. This was her first mission back. I wanted to ask her how he died and what went wrong on that mission but I couldn't bring myself to bring it up. I was respecting her silence as she was respecting mine.
I don't ask where we are going today or what we are doing. She will give me the information I need to know when the time is right.
Until then, I sit quietly in the passenger seat doing my homework. I have a report due when school break is over on War & Peace and I've spent the majority of my long flight from Montana to London reading the famous Russian, mammoth novel of Leo Tolstoy. The other students in my class have an entire month to read and write the report. I've had approximately, 48 hours. I know if I don't get it done now, before the mission, the likelihood of me completing the assignment after it's over is slim to none. Once a mission starts, homework takes a backseat.
The last three hours have been spent driving deep into the English countryside in near silence. Cassiopeia understands how little time I have to complete my homework and so she lets me work. This is one of her lessons, after all. That in order to maintain living dual lives as both a student and spy, I need to make sure I don't raise any suspicion by not getting my schoolwork finished for when I return.
By nightfall we have finally arrived at our apparent destination. We pull into a small, unmarked driveway just off the road. It's completely dark but just beyond a thick tree line, and hidden from view at the road, we are greeted by the most enormous set of iron gates I've ever seen. Our car is quietly surrounded by, armed guards holding automatic rifles who step out of the darkness. An eerie chill runs down my spine at the sight them but I remain silent as Cassiopeia rolls down the window to speak with the Head Guard stepping out of the Gatehouse.
"General Hendrix and Agent Taylor." Cassiopeia announces our names to the man.
The guard speaks into the Com on his shoulder and then waits for a reply. While we wait, I take note of everything I can as I've been trained to do assessing this situation and what I may be walking into. Cassiopeia seems slightly tense but seems to know her way around here so I gather she's been here before. That means she's not completely unaware of what we're walking into and so I feel a small bit more at ease with the situation if possible. I can see several security cameras mounted on the gates before us and assume there are, several more monitoring our every move that I don't see as well. Looking in the side mirrors of the car, I notice several small scopes arise from the ground around us. Within seconds small blue grid lights begin scanning the undercarriage of our vehicle and just as quickly they finish and are gone.
"You may pass." The Guard waves us forward and the gates begin to open.
We continue on in silence for several minutes as the scenery passes by outside in the moonlight. This is one of the longest driveways I've ever seen and that's saying something coming from ranch territory. The driveway to my family's ranch is two miles long. It's something I'm used to in the American West on large patches of land, not in England where everything and everyone is packed together.
"This place is enormous." I gasp when we've driven at least another twenty miles and still no sight of a house or building anywhere.
"50,000 acres." Cassiopeia states as a matter of fact.
"Wow." I whisper in astonishment and say nothing more. Another five minutes pass when finally before us in the midst of the trees, lights flicker signaling we are approaching civilization again. Out of the thickness of trees a clearing appears and in the middle, an enormous stone walled house arises before us: three stories high and resembling a small castle. We pull around the circular drive surrounding a massive fountain of an angel on her tippy toes pointing a delicate finger towards the sky and Cassiopeia turns off the car.
"We've been temporarily assigned to the Eastern European Division on Special Request." Cassiopeia speaks quickly looking from the massive front doors of the home back to me. "I was ordered to bring you here. I do not know what the mission is or how long it will take."
I gulp having never been assigned a mission outside the North American Division before. Sure, I've gone to other countries but always on my own divisions business. I knew this was going to happen the older and more capable agent I became but I still find it shocking that's its actually happening now. I nod in understanding but am immediately confused. "Permission to speak, ma'am?" I ask quietly.
"Permission granted." Cassiopeia nods. "Ask quickly." She nods at me seeing two armed bodyguards exit the house and take station on either side of our vehicle waiting to open our doors.
"If we are being tasked to Eastern Europe for this mission, why are we here? In England? At this house?"
"This is the private residence of the Head of the Eastern European Division, Lady Marie." She answers quickly. "She lives here because it is not safe for her to live in Eastern Europe."
Her answer only has me more confused. "But I thought Anatoly Demidov was the Head of Eastern Europe?"
"He is the puppet. She is the Master." Cassiopeia answers quietly under her breath as the men open our doors and we are ushered out.
Quickly, I grab my book and duffle bag and follow behind her, reeling with this new information and trying to process what that means. I follow her lead as we are escorted through the doors and into the massive foyer, down a short hallway and immediately into an office.
"Wait here." One of the men speaks to us in English but definitely has a Russian accent. He leaves the room while the other stands guard just outside the door and only exit point.
Cassiopeia takes a seat on the comfy looking leather sofa and so I do the same sitting beside her. I look around the room quickly scanning my surroundings and when I look at Cassiopeia again, her eyes seem fixated on something across the room. When I follow her direct line of sight I see what has her so enamored. Directly behind the desk is a bookshelf full of photos, some old and some new. One photo stands out immediately: a young boy with dark hair and piercing blue eyes around the age of ten. A boy I knew then and still know very well now.
"Mikael." I gasp in nothing but a whisper.
"Yes." She states coldly never taking her eyes from his photo and I feel my heart drop to my stomach.
"I don't understand. He told me he is a Swedish Noble?" I ask in further confusion knowing that Mikael is to inherit the Northern European Division of The Council because of his Scandinavian Heritage and Ulric's heir. "Why is his childhood photo on display in the home of the Head of the Eastern European Division?" I realize I'm asking her questions without permission but in this moment I really don't care. My mind is floored.
"He is a Swedish Noble." She answers quietly, "But he's also a Russian Prince."
Boom! My mind explodes and I bounce off the sofa dropping my book onto the floor dashing the last few feet towards the bookshelf to get a closer look.
"Julia!" Cassiopeia snaps her fingers at me with hissed breath trying to restrain me but I really don't care. My mind is reeling. The photo directly to the right of Mikael's is one I know very well from my required studying of in depth Russian history as part of The Program. We learn about every region and their histories in great depth. This photo I recognize as the last official portrait of Tsar Nicholas II's third daughter, the Grand Duchess Maria; a young woman who was murdered along with her entire family during the Russian Revolution. My eyes dart quickly back and forth between the photo of Mikael and to that of Maria taking note of the similarities from the dark hair to the piercing blue eyes and I feel the floor drop out from under me. They had to be related. It was clear as day looking at the two of them together now side by side.
"Mikael Roman," I gasp in realization, "He's a Romanov." I wheel around to see Cassiopeia glaring at me for not listening to her about leaping off the sofa. I can barely breathe in this moment with so many pieces of the puzzle rapidly clicking together in my mind creating answers and yet raising even more questions.
"Yes." She states coldly never taking her eyes from mine and I feel my heart drop to my stomach. "Get over here. Now!" She snaps her fingers and points to the sofa beside her.
I do as she says and once again resume my seat in my state of confusion and realization. When I first met Nyah and Mikael as children, she had always called him 'the spoiled prince.' I assumed it was because of his higher status than us as an heir and noble and us being simple Worker Bees, I'd taken it to be something of derogatory title she'd given him when he was acting spoiled and entitled and so I'd taken up calling him the same when he acted that way. Never would I have thought he were a real prince and certainly never in my wildest dreams would have thought he was a Romanov prince. He lied to me, Cassiopeia withheld this truth and I'm furious wondering who else knows about this and didn't tell me.
"Does Nyah know?" I ask wondering if my friend knew and why she didn't tell me.
"Yes." She answers without explanation and I think, of course, Nyah would know. She's a part of their family now.
"But how is he a Romanov prince?" I ask Cassiopeia in a whisper not understanding. "Is he a descendant of one of the distant cousins?"
"No." Cassiopeia answers quietly and harshly and I can tell she's annoyed with my questions as she nervously looks around the room. "No more questions."
"But that doesn't make any sense!" I whisper shout at her ignoring her command, "The Imperial Family was executed in 1918! How can he be a direct descendant?"
"They weren't all killed!" She whisper shouts back at me and reaches for my hand giving it a death squeeze to shut me up as we hear footsteps coming down the hallway. Before they even round the corner, more pieces fall into place. My eyes dart from the door back to the photo and remember what Cassiopeia said in the car, the home of 'Lady Marie.' My mind is rapid firing of recent reports that one set of remains was missing from the mass grave of the Imperial Family discovered just a few years ago. DNA had confirmed all members to be present except one: Maria. It gave voice to reason that like the myths of old, someone had survived though it was not Anastasia as the many stories had suggested but another Romanov sister: Maria.
Could it be? I wondered with heart pounding in my ears.
"Good evening," A small but commanding voice gains my attention from the doorway and when I turn around to look I'm greeted by the same enormous and distinctive blue eyes from the old photograph and the breath leaves my body in a quiet rush looking at the living ghost before me. She's tiny and older but certainly not frail looking and certainly not as old as I'd expect her to be if she actually were the Grand Duchess Maria. The beautiful woman before me looked to be no more than 70-years-old and if the Grand Duchess Maria were still alive, she'd be close to 98 by now. Perhaps it wasn't the Grand Duchess herself but a daughter, given the same name, instead. Not that it mattered; I was enamored. One way or another it was clear that Maria had survived and now someone in their' family requested my presence.
Just, what did this woman want with me?
"Good evening, ma'am." Cassiopeia jumps up immediately to stand and greet the woman, showing the proper amount of respect and so I do the same. We wait for her to pass us and take a seat at her desk before we sit down again.
I sit absolutely silent as the woman looks us both over for a long moment and then speaks focusing on Cassiopeia.
"Casey, you are looking well. Better than expected given the severity of your injury report. How are they healing?" She asks and immediately my eyes flash to Cassiopeia. First, because I'm amazed this woman called her Casey, knowing only those intimately close with Cassiopeia ever did such a thing, and secondly and more importantly, I hadn't heard of Cassiopeia being severely injured or injured at all. Maybe she was injured on the mission the same time Draco died? Immediately my heart is pounding again at the thought. It is inconceivable to me, even after bringing her down with a rock to her head in the river three years ago, that anyone could ever get the best of my mighty mentor and actually hurt her. Hurt her so badly that the woman before me now is asking about her injuries.
"I'm fine, ma'am. Nothing time won't heal." Cassiopeia answers the woman, clearly uncomfortable to be discussing any of this and especially in front of me, I can tell as her eyes dart towards me where I'm certain I'm staring with wide astonished eyes and mouth slightly ajar in shock.
"That is true. Most physical wounds do heal with time. Though, some linger." Marie looks carefully at Cassiopeia sitting before her, "Eighty years later, the bullets lodged near my spine still ache every time the weather turns cold. I imagine yours will, too."
My eyes grow even more wide and my heart is now loudly thundering in my ears. Two facts have just been confirmed for me: one, that Cassiopeia was indeed severely injured if she has bullets lodged near spine they couldn't remove. I'm surprised I know nothing of this and begin wondering what else I don't know about her? And two, that if this woman was shot 80 years ago, she's definitely a lot older than she looks; and more importantly, using quick math skills subtracting 80 years ago from right now equals 1918 and I know she's most definitely thee Grand Duchess Maria. The one they tried to execute by firing squad in Yekaterinburg and apparently failed. No wonder her bones weren't in the grave; she's sitting here before me.
Cassiopeia completely ignores my staring at her wide-eyed and instead answers Marie with a simply head nod of agreement. She nervously brushes her lower lip with her finger waiting for Marie to speak of something else. Marie is, after all, Cassiopeia's superior as a Head of a Division and so I sit watching them with fascination to see how the orders fall down the Chain of Command I've so intimately become familiar with since my stay in the shipping container two years ago. I'm utterly fascinated by how Marie seems to actually care about Cassiopeia's wellbeing and then realize it's likely because Cassiopeia is a highly valuable piece of Council Property. She's a top asset they undoubtedly don't want damaged or to lose as their' prized Number One First Gen. Something they've spent decades now investing in with training and education.
"Cassiopeia, I'm sending you to France. Given that you're still healing, it will be a light one." Marie reaches into her desk drawer and removes a large manila envelope handing it to Cassiopeia. Cassiopeia opens it and quickly glances at the information.
"Ma'am, the drop off point you mention here," Cassiopeia looks a bit ashen as though she's about to be sick and all the color drains from her face.
"What about it?" Marie asks sitting back further in her chair with steely blue eyes transfixed on Cassiopeia's.
"Ulric forbid me from ever stepping foot near the premises unless on his authority." Cassiopeia swallows hard closing the file slowly.
"My authority supersedes his in this matter, Cassiopeia. You will do as I say while under my command." Marie's commanding tone leaves no room for argument and the Chain of Command is made clear to both Cassiopeia and I. "I will be in attendance. If Ulric confronts you at the point of drop off, you have my permission to tell him that I sent you. Should he try to punish you for breaking his command I shall see to it that those orders are denied. No harm will come to you for this, I give you my word."
Cassiopeia nods slightly and a rare moment of visible emotion flashes across her face. One I recognize as relief before her walls go back up and she's the formidable woman I know again. I look back at Marie in wonder. Just when I think I know who gives the orders, someone else steps forward from the shadows revealing themselves to me.
"Cassiopeia, you are dismissed." Marie waves her hand.
Cassiopeia stands hesitantly smoothing down the ridges of her skirt and looks down at me, "What about Julia, ma'am?"
I can tell she doesn't want to leave until she knows what my role in all of this is. Something about it is making her nervous. That much is very obvious and as crazy as it sounds given the woman's history of tormenting me to tears, I find myself wanting her to stay and protect me from the unknown. I can at least trust now that Cassiopeia is trying to keep me alive. I can't say the same for anyone else in this elaborate game of chess we seem to be playing.
"You needn't worry about Julia anymore. You trained her well, Cassiopeia. The plans I have for her now are of none of your concern." Marie informs her and once again motions with her hand for Cassiopeia to leave.
I'm flabbergasted. I think Cassiopeia is as well looking at her tightly controlled expression. From the very beginning, when I was only five years old and brought into The Program, Cassiopeia has always been a part of everything concerning me as my mentor. This is the first time I am hearing that my fate is none of her concern anymore. It made sense. I was 17 years old now and finished with my Field Training but it is still shocking to hear for us both, I think, in gauging her expression. Cassiopeia holds my gaze for just a moment nodding swiftly once and I can't tell if it's supposed to be a goodbye, encouragement, or good riddance and then she's gone. My heart is still thundering in my ears as I watch her leave and turn around again to face Marie.
"We meet at last, Julia Taylor." She studies me with those intense eyes of hers. "I've heard many things about you from so many different people over the years, but none more so than from my grandson. He is spellbound with you." She pauses for a long moment simply staring at me. "How is it, Julia, that a common American girl who grew up on a cattle ranch in Montana, has managed to captivate a European prince into proclaiming that you are his one true love and the one he means to marry?"
My mouth goes dry instantly. Mikael has never said anything to me about wanting to marry me and yet his grandmother knows. I'm beyond astonished to hear he has told her that he loves me and intends to marry me. My heart leaps with joy and yet, I'm angry with him at the same time. Until this evening, I had no idea that he was really a Romanov prince and here was his grandmother, interrogating me about how I made this all happen. As if I somehow orchestrated it because he was a prince and I was just a commoner.
"I had no idea he was a prince until this evening, ma'am. If that's what you're thinking." I answer quickly and with defiance in my tone sitting a little taller. "Mikael and I have been friends for a long time. I've always maintained a clear boundary between our stations in life and kept it just friends."
"And yet you're intimate with each other." She counters with a slanted eyebrow staring me down, and my heart pounds harder that she knows about that. "I'm not angry with you for it. You are attractive, passionate young adults who spend a considerable amount of time together. It only makes sense. I just want the truth."
"Yes, ma'am. We have been intimate. But we are not in a relationship. We are friends." I answer quietly and lose a bit of my defiance. "Just friends. I've been sure to maintain that boundary."
"Do you not care for my grandson, Julia?" She asks studying me intently.
"Yes, ma'am. I care for him very much." I answer quickly, "It's just that for the entirety of our lives in knowing each other, we've been told not to get too close given our stations in life. That he is the heir of our division and that I am Council property, to be in his service one day. Ulric made it very clear we are forbidden to be anything more than friends."
"I see." She nods, "And when exactly did Ulric forbid you from having a relationship beyond friendship with Mikael?"
"Two and a half years ago, ma'am," I speak quietly looking at my hands now fidgeting nervously in my lap at the reminder of this time in my life. "After he shipped me to Miami in container for disobeying an order."
"You mean the order to shoot a horse? A horse you didn't shoot when you should have on that mission and put my grandson's life in danger?" She asks with hands folding in front of her once more and leaning in.
"Yes, ma'am." I swallow hard. She already knows the story.
"Why didn't you shoot the horse, Julia?" She asks.
"I'm not a killer. I don't kill unless I have to, ma'am."
"You wouldn't kill a horse to save Mikael and yet he killed a man to save you." She cocks her head to the side slightly looking at me and I know she's already judged me for my actions.
"And then I killed three men to save him and the rest of my team." I counter boldly reminding her of the rest of the story. "We weren't in immanent danger then, with the horse. If I'd known then what I know now I would have taken out the horse first thing that night."
"So why didn't you follow the order to kill the horse when it was put before you again?"
"I didn't see the reason in it. What happened was already done. Why kill it after the fact?" I tell her the truth.
"It's not your job to see the reason. Your job is to follow orders, Julia. Why were you not following Cassiopeia's orders? Your record shows blatant disobedience from you towards her for more than a year prior to this incidence."
I look down feeling the tears prick my eyes and try desperately to pull them back knowing that this was unacceptable to cry. I cannot answer until I have my emotions under control and can feel her staring at me. She gets up and walks around to the front of her desk, leaning back to sit with arms braced, gripping the edge and drumming her fingers, waiting.
"I was angry with Cassiopeia. So I purposefully disobeyed her orders whenever I could."
"Why? Permission to speak freely, Julia. I want the truth." She asks but I somehow get the distinct feeling she already knows the answer, she just wants me to say it.
"Because I felt she was responsible for all the pain I had to endure, and especially for taking me away from my mother. For taking away time we could have spent together before she died if I hadn't been dragged off to camp every summer." I finally look up at the woman before me and sniffle back my tears, now trying to conceal the rage I feel towards those really responsible. "But I learned my lesson and I listen to her orders now, every one of them. The first time."
"And why is that?" She asks still staring at me.
"Because after Ulric shipped me across the ocean for disobedience, I realized Cassiopeia is just the messenger."
"I see." Marie answers flatly with no emotion, "And are you now angry with Ulric for taking you from your mother? As you were Cassiopeia, knowing now the orders came from him?"
"Yes." I answer without hesitation and not caring how much trouble this gets me into. "Wouldn't you?" I ask bravely and likely foolishly given the woman's history with her own mother.
"Yes." She answers after a moment, much to my surprise. Quietly she leans forward and picks up my book that I'd dropped on the floor earlier and moves to sit behind her desk again putting space between us. "It's a terrible thing for mothers and children to be torn apart. The consequences are everlasting." I know she's speaking from experience in losing her own mother so horrifically and so I say nothing, just nod and look away. "The mission file also states that you were shot in the back, leading the pursuers away from your teammates on the roof that night. Is that correct?" She says opening her desk and retrieving another file.
I'm slightly jarred by the sudden change in conversation but I nod before speaking, "Yes, that's correct."
"You knowingly put yourself in danger trying to save their lives?" She asks placing the file on the desk looking back up at me. "Your file thus far is riddled with examples of you continuing to do this for your partners and your team members. "
"Yes, ma'am."
"Why?"
"Because I'd do anything to protect those I love." I know I shouldn't reveal that, but it's the truth and she asked me to be honest.
"Which is seen as a weakness in this world, Julia."
"That's why I don't belong in this world, ma'am." I answer her honestly without hesitation looking directly into her eyes.
"Perhaps you don't." A faint smile appears on her lips as she looks down and opens the file. "Perhaps you are better suited for greater things than the station you were born into." Her reply only has me more nervous about what that could possibly mean. I don't have long to ponder before she's speaking again. "From now on, I want you to report back to me on what my grandson is up to. I know he frequently disobeys and circumvents Ulric's orders going on missions with you and such. I know Ulric's orders forbid you from having a romantic relationship with Mikael but I want the opposite. I want you spending more time together as much as possible starting as soon as possible. I want you to report back to me on exactly what Mikael's doing, where he's going and with whom he is spending his time. That is a Direct Order from me not to be shared with anyone else. Is that understood?"
I'm stunned. How am I supposed to spy on him? To start a romantic relationship, which is what we've both wanted for so long, but is now tainted as it will be based on an order? I don't know what to say except to nod and agree, knowing I can't refuse such an order from this woman.
"Yes, I understand."
"Good." She nods sharply and looks down, "Is this yours?" She asks holding up my book.
"Yes, I'm sorry. I dropped it when we came in." I stammer at the irony of this woman holding up my copy of Tolstoy's War & Peace, given it was written with her family history as it's backdrop.
"A good read. I haven't read it in a very long time." She thumbs the cover looking at it with a far off look in her eyes.
"Required reading over the break for school." I stand nervously, when she holds the book out to me. "I'm meant to write a report. If I have time." I add quietly.
"You'll have time." She nods with confidence handing me the folder next. "These are contact procedures from this moment forward on how I wish you to relay information regarding Mikael. I'll be in touch with regards to where I expect our next point of contact to be."
"Yes, ma'am." I answer taking the folder from her.
"But I've also decided just now that I am sending you to Russia, first. There is something of mine in the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg that I'd like for you to return to me." She sees my confusion instantly. I don't even have to ask the question and she knows exactly what I'm thinking about why she needs me to retrieve her own things. "They don't want me to have my old things. They'd rather keep them in museums."
Who are they? I wonder. Clearly it makes her unhappy and yet Marie speaks without any emotion in her voice. I can only assume that it's from years of practice as Cassiopeia has tried drilling into my head that she's able to conceal her true feelings outwardly though I can feel a swift torrent of emotions run through before they're immediately bottled up.
"But this is special and after seeing yours, I'd like it back. It was a gift from my mother."
"Seeing my what, ma'am?" I ask quietly in confusion about what of mine has inspired this impromptu mission into her Motherland.
"Your book, Julia." She nods towards the book tucked under my forearm, "My mother gave me her First Edition copy of War & Peace on my birthday many years ago. I'd like you to get it for me."
My eyes widen instantly. This is to be my first solo mission inside Russia and she wants me to steal a First Edition copy of War & Peace from the Hermitage Museum. This isn't a mission where I'm risking my life for the betterment of all mankind. This is a mission where I'm risking my life to retrieve a book for an Heir. I'd never felt more like a pawn in all my life than sitting in her office this evening and hearing over and over how my life served but one purpose, to serve others, at the expense of myself for the betterment of them. First in spying on Mikael and now in risking my life for her book.
"Life is a game of chess. Moves and counter moves, Julia. By retrieving something I want, I will do something for you." She adds and I swear this woman knows my thoughts.
"And what will you do for me, ma'am?" I dare asking since she brought it up.
"Shift the pieces around the board. Perhaps change your fate. That is the central theme of War & Peace, you know?" She smiles softly while scribbling a note onto a small piece of paper and stands handing the paper to me. The Imperial Seal of the Romanovs is stamped in gold on the top of the notepaper.
"How?" I ask near breathless, standing along with her.
"All in due time, Julia. Should you find yourself in any trouble, you can't use the normal safe houses inside Russia or Sweden for this mission. No rentals either. I don't want The Council knowing about this and they will find you. On the paper is an address of someone I know who would be willing to help you. Don't go to the main house or up the main driveway. Wait in the old barn by the lake. Turn on the exterior light. She will find you in the morning. Hand her the note. She'll understand I sent you. Ivan will arrange a car to take you back to London. You are dismissed." She waves me out of the room. I have been dismissed as quickly as Cassiopeia had been and left just as confused and bewildered by what just happened.
It takes thirty-two hours by ferry from St. Petersburg to Stockholm and another three hours from Stockholm to rural Sweden to get to the address Marie has given me. Instead of renting a car as I'd normally do, I hitchhike as far as I can and then walk the rest of the way through knee-deep snow through a dense forest of tall pines until I can go no further. I'm weak from blood loss and frozen by the time I reach the edge of the property and night has already fallen long ago in this arctic tundra. I walk another two miles and come across a beautiful very old wooden barn sitting at the edge of a very large partially frozen lake and on the other side a giant mansion sprawls out before me. I know I've reached my destination and eagerly look forward to getting in out of the cold wind.
Quietly, I carefully unlock the barn door and slide it open. I use my flashlight to locate the barn light switches and do as Marie instructed, turning on the exterior light. The old barn is actually a giant horse stable and walking down the aisle with my flashlight, I see that all the stalls are empty. The horses have likely been moved somewhere warmer for the winter as it's freezing cold outside and not much warmer inside here without a heater. I'm not going to complain given how I feel. At least I'm protected from the biting wind outside during this snowstorm.
Being a ranch girl, I do what ranch girls do best and make due with what I have. I locate an unused straw bale and break it open in a stall in the middle of the barn away from the cold edges. My ribs are killing me as is the bullet wound while I kick the straw around with my feet, trying to fluff up a bed. I grab handfuls of straw and start stuffing my jacket for an added layer of warmth.
When I finish I lay down like a bird in a nest, covering myself with the excess and settling in for the night. I know I'm going to get really cold tonight and likely suffer from frostbite if I'm not careful, but I know I wont' freeze to death at least. This wasn't a skill I learned in survival training from the First Gens, this was something I learned from my father and grandfather on the ranch. More than once we'd been trapped in the barn during a blizzard and if we didn't use the body heat of the animals to snuggle with to stay alive, we used the straw.
I fall asleep sometime later thinking about those moments of my childhood and how considerably my life has changed in just three short years.
It takes a moment for me to register that something or rather someone is poking me when I finally open my eyes. A blonde woman with short curly hair and stocking hat on is hovering over me. She pokes me again and this time I realize it's with the sharp end of a pitchfork. Startled I sit up too quickly and wince in pain, immediately grabbing my side. I feel dizzy and nauseous.
"Who are you?" She finally speaks in Swedish with a worried look on her face still holding the pitchfork defensively in the air between us and pointing it at me.
"A friend." I answer in Swedish still unable to focus clearly on her face. "I was told to come here should I run into trouble." Slowly I reach into the pocket of my coat and retrieve the notepaper with the address on it that Marie told me to give to this woman. "I'm not here to make trouble." I add handing her the note, which she cautiously takes and reads.
I'm slurring my speech and sound slightly intoxicated as I speak which is unsettling because I know I haven't had anything to drink. I either have infection or hypothermia. Most likely infection given the materials I used to sew myself closed with.
"Marie sent you?" She asks quietly with wide eyes and I nod. It seems to be the only answer she needs and drops the pitchfork, tucking the note into her own fluffy wool jacket and extends her hands to help me up carefully. "Why didn't you come to the house?"
"Marie said you'd find me here." I tell her. "She told me to leave the light on."
"It figures. Crazy old woman." She shakes her head, clearly not a fan of Marie's. "If I hadn't seen the light from across the lake, I wouldn't have found you. Are you hurt?" She asks pulling the straw out from inside my coat and sees the blood stained shirt beneath my jacket.
"Yes. I was shot. I didn't have time to get the bullet out. Just stitched it closed and packed it. And another bullet just grazed my side but I think it's infected." I wobble on unsteady feet and she tries to hold me steady. Her hand reaches up quickly to feel my forehead and I vaguely hear her say, 'You're burning up, child' before I collapse.