The Gathering Storm (10 page)

“Just Montenegrin witches,” Dariya said as she entered our room and crawled into her bed. “You’d best leave Katiya alone. And keep that blasted window closed tonight.”

I saw a flash of pure hatred in Elena’s eyes, but it was gone quickly and she smiled sweetly and ignored my cousin. “Katerina, my brother has come to St. Petersburg with us,” she announced. “You will be able to meet him soon.”

“Lovely,” Dariya grumbled. “There are too many of your meddlesome family members in Russia already.”

“I would watch what I said if I were you.” Elena’s voice was still sweet but carried a threat. “We come from a family of old romantics, my brother and I. He wishes for my happiness, as I wish for his. I would hate for anyone to stand in the way of true love. Including you, Dariya Yevgenievna.”

Dariya snorted and rolled over. “And what could you do about it?” she mumbled sleepily. “Turn me into a toad?”

“My father would be very unhappy to hear that some stupid girl at Smolny was accusing his daughter of witchcraft,” Elena said, not missing the chance to remind us she was the daughter of a king.

Then I heard her mumble something in what must have been Montenegrin.

But Dariya was already asleep, her breathing even and easy, with the faintest carefree snore.

Elena yawned dramatically. “Good night, Katerina. May you have wonderful dreams about a handsome, dark-eyed prince. I am certain he is dreaming about you.”

I pretended to be asleep and said nothing. But my heart was pounding. I wondered what sorcery Elena was trying to work with her brother’s lock of hair. I remembered everything the princess Cantacuzene had told me. If I was truly a threat to the blood drinkers of Montenegro, why would Elena and her sisters want me to grow closer to their brother?

D
ariya could not get out of bed the next morning. She looked pale and her limbs trembled when she tried to sit up. “Katiya, I am so cold!” she said.

The window was still closed. A pale moth flapped against the inside glass frantically.

Elena rolled her eyes as she cracked the window to let the insect fly away. “Must you always complain?” she asked as she quickly finished getting dressed. “Hurry, Katerina! I’m famished!”

“Go to breakfast without me,” I said, sitting on the bed and taking my cousin’s hand. “Can you ask Madame Orbellani to come and see Dariya? She is ill.”

“What a shame,” Elena said. “Of course. I will send her right away.”

When she had left, I looked more closely at my cousin. Dariya’s pupils were large, and her breathing seemed labored.

“What is wrong with me? My stomach—oh, the cramps!” she whispered. “I feel as if I’m dying!”

“Hush, Madame Orbellani is coming,” I said, rubbing her cold hand between my warm ones. Her right arm was floppy, like a rag doll’s. I saw a cold light wrapping around her. It was growing steadily brighter and stronger. I was terrified for her. “The headmistress will send for a doctor.”

My cousin’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she slipped into unconsciousness.

“Dariya!” I shouted, shaking her. Her eyes opened briefly. With a moan, she passed out again. “Dariya!”

“What is this nonsense?” Madame Metcherskey asked severely. “Girls, get down to the dining room at once, or you will be punished.”

“Madame, Dariya is ill!” I stood up so she could see for herself. “You must call the doctor!”

Madame Metcherskey’s eyes narrowed. “Katerina Alexandrovna, go downstairs immediately. I will deal with her. It is not your concern.”

I didn’t think I’d ever hated anyone more than I hated Madame Metcherskey at that moment. Her words stung, but I did not dare argue with her. I swallowed hard and squeezed my cousin’s pale, limp hand. “I promise I will be back, Dariya.”

I ran downstairs and found Madame Orbellani, who sat at the teachers’ table, eating breakfast with Madame Tomilov. “Did Elena tell you about Dariya Yevgenievna?” I asked.

I saw confusion in their eyes. “Dariya?”

I gripped the chair in front of me. Of course Elena had not told them. “She passed out!” I explained. “She’s
extremely cold and complaining of stomach pains. Madame Metcherskey would not allow me to stay with her. I fear something terrible will happen to her!”

Madame Tomilov stood up immediately. “Madame Orbellani, send for the doctor. Katerina Alexandrovna, take me to your cousin.”

The headmistress took one look at Dariya, still lying unconscious in her bed, and had her moved to a separate room, quarantined from the rest of us. Dr. Gallitzin arrived and I was shooed into the hall. “She could be contagious,” the doctor said. “Keep all the other students away from her.”

I tried to argue that both Elena and I had breathed the same air as she had all night long, but Madame Tomilov would not listen. She sent me to class after assuring me that Dariya was in good hands.

I grabbed Elena in the hallway on her way to algebra. “What did you do to her?”

Elena’s eyes grew wide and innocent. “
Moi?
”

“Whatever spells you’re trying to cast on me with your brother’s hair, whatever hateful spell you’re casting on Dariya, you’re going to stop immediately.”

“You say the most bizarre things.” Elena shook her head sadly. “Perhaps you feel unwell too. Do you have a fever?” She reached up to touch my forehead.

I knocked her hand away. The girls in the hallway moved quickly to their next classes, making a deliberate effort to ignore us. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the Brown Form’s teachers staring at us nervously. Lowering my voice, I said, “I will not let you hurt Dariya or any of the other students here.”

Elena rolled her eyes. She had noticed the teacher’s attention as well. “Enough of your foolishness, Katerina. You are making me late for class.” She turned and disappeared into her classroom.

I needed to see for myself what Elena was up to. I sneaked back upstairs to our dormitory, the chilly hallway now empty. I searched under Elena’s cot for proof that she was working dark magic against Dariya. I found nothing under her bed, nor under her pillow, nor in her unlocked storage trunk. Nothing but the wrapped lock of her brother’s hair and a single tarot card: the King of Swords. It matched the Queen of Swords that had been sent to me at Christmas. Was it part of a love spell Elena was trying to cast on me? I shuddered, glad that I’d burned the queen card. But there was no evidence here of spells against Dariya.

I headed to the sickroom and peeked inside. Madame Tomilov was bent over Dariya’s bed, her hand on my cousin’s cheek. Dariya’s breathing was slow but even. The headmistress looked up and frowned when she saw me. “Go to class, Katerina Alexandrovna. There has been no change in her status.”

Sighing, I went back downstairs and hurried to my next class before I was missed.

It wasn’t long before everyone in the school knew of Dariya’s mysterious illness. Later that morning, Aurora Demidova passed out in French class, and during the lunch hour,
two of the servants fell ill. I tried to return to the sickroom to check on Dariya, but Madame Metcherskey would not excuse me from my music lessons. She glared at me for an agonizing hour as I practiced my scales on the harp. With a rebellious, and possibly devious, impulse, I played the chords as loud as I could. If I had to play the harp, I would make sure the angels in heaven heard me.

My fingers were bleeding by the time the class was over and I could finally leave and visit the sickroom.

Dariya was lying as still as death in her bed, but her cold light had not changed. The bright swirls wrapped around her like a snowy-white cocoon. Beside her, Madame Orbellani sat reading a book. She looked up and smiled sadly. “No change, my dear,” she said. “Have you visited the chapel to light a candle for your cousin?”

I shook my head sadly. “I wanted to see her first.” I picked up Dariya’s cold hand. She was still breathing, but it was very shallow. “What did the doctor say?”

Madame Orbellani shrugged. “Dr. Gallitzin said only that he believes the girls have influenza, and that he would return in the morning to check in on them.”

Aurora Demidova slept on a nearby cot, her face as pale as Dariya’s and her hands even colder.

“What does he recommend as treatment?” I asked. I noticed a porcelain bowl with dried blood in it slid partially under Aurora’s cot. Had the doctor decided to bleed them both? I drew the blanket back to search my cousin’s arms, but there were no cut marks. I sighed in relief.

Madame Orbellani put a hand on my shoulder. “I know
you are worried for Dariya Yevgenievna. And the other girls. But you must allow the doctor to do what he thinks is best. No meddling, Katerina Alexandrovna.”

I was awake all night, my thoughts racing in my head. Elena slept soundly, I noticed. She seemed remarkably healthy. The cold light that surrounded her was nothing but a faint gray mist.

I did not believe for one moment that Dr. Gallitzin was right. My cousin was not suffering from flu. There had been no fever or cough, no other reports of influenza in St. Petersburg.

I knew Elena was responsible somehow. She’d been mad at Dariya for disparaging her family. But I couldn’t make sense of Aurora and the two servants. I doubted Elena even knew the servant girls existed. And why hadn’t I become ill? I was the focus of her attention more often than not. She wanted something from me. Was she trying to frighten me?

I could not sleep, so I saw no point in lying in bed any longer. I pulled on my wrap and looked out the window at the pale gray sky. Creeping quietly down the hall, I peeked in the room where Dariya and Aurora were both sleeping. The cold light enshrouding them had not changed in its intensity overnight. The light gave me no clue to the nature of the illness. Was it caused by a contagion or by a Montenegrin spell? Without any firm evidence of supernatural causes, I had to assume that it was a natural illness, and that
it could be cured. Dariya was moaning softly in her sleep, and I could see the glistening beads of sweat on her brow. Madame Orbellani dozed in the chair beside them, oblivious to the world.

I didn’t like the way Dariya looked. She did not seem to be improving at all.

The large clock downstairs chimed five. It would be hours before breakfast time. Returning to my room and quietly getting dressed, I decided to sneak out to speak with Dr. Kruglevski. Whatever was wrong with the girls, surely he would be the best man to examine my cousin and the other patients.

The large front hall was dark and quiet. The heavy front door locked from within and was guarded by an elderly doorman, who still wore his faded black uniform from his younger days in the regiments. I waited until he left his post to make his rounds, then quietly unlocked the door and slipped outside.

The late-January morning was bitterly cold, but I did not mind. The Smolny Gardens were beautiful in their icy barrenness. I skipped past them and turned down Slonovaya Ulitsa. Crossing through the Peski District, I passed sleeping town houses and newly constructed apartment buildings. There were few sleighs about this early in the morning. I hoped I looked like some poor factory girl on her way to work. Nobody bothered me.