Sleeping Helena (15 page)

It had all happened in a fog, like those that rolled over the lake in early morning. Louis hunted there, he knew how the air congealed on top of the water and followed the waves to shore. Ludwig had been attentive, the attendant silent, and an entire affair of the eyes had developed there in the steaming kitchen, beneath the iron pots that hung from the ceiling and the row of pastries set out to cool for the morning.

When Katza had appeared, like a random ghost, peeking through the door as though she were a child spying on her elders, Louis’ had wanted to hide. He knew how much she’d seen
—
no secrets were kept from Katza
—
but when the door had shut lightly as she turned away, Louis forgot, until much later, that she had ever been there.

He was confident now that his feelings were reciprocated. The message was his proof. Louis hoisted his rifle on his shoulder and set out for the lake. The letter bid him be there in the evening, but because of its contents, Louis wanted to scout the shoreline one final time. He was familiar with the lake and surrounding terrain, but the water was wide and he had never hunted near the king’s small castle, Berg.

Louis had received two other letters from the king since that night, both vague and rambling essays on the purity of love and the evils of politics, of how Ludwig wanted nothing more than to follow his dreams in peace. Louis could respond to neither of them. All he could do was wait for the king to plan their next meeting and finally Ludwig had done it.

Louis was so nervous he could hardly hold his rifle steady. He doubted he’d catch anything this morning. What the king had asked involved real danger and no explanation was included. Louis’s fingers touched the broken seal. Ludwig loved him, he reassured himself. He had to trust his king.

The lake was still, but not silent. It never was. In the trees the birds were calling and a wind blew rippling waves onto the shore. Louis skipped a rock across the surface as his eyes fell upon the king’s lakeside home, south of Louis’ own. He wondered what Ludwig was doing now, or if he was even yet there.

Katza found Thekla in the kitchen.

“Thekla, what are you doing out of bed so early?” She saw the look on Thekla’s face and knelt down beside her. “What is it?”

Thekla burst into tears. “I had a bad dream,” she wept into her sister’s arms.

“Hush now. Everything is fine.”

“No. It isn’t.” Thekla sniffed as she tried to pull herself together. “I asked Louis to stay with me and tell me a story, but he wouldn’t. He left.”

“He’ll be back,” Katza said as she smoothed Thekla’s hair. Even at her Thekla’s young age, the years of fussing over her smaller sisters had hardened her to her own hurts.

Katza began to feel queasy as her vision blurred. She Saw the lake pouring into the kitchen and held on to Thekla to steady herself. Thekla, who knew her sister was prone to these moments, wrapped her arms tightly around Katza. Though Katza was her elder, Thekla acted as though she was the stronger of the two. Katza rose unsteadily, pulling free from Thekla’s embrace. She left the kitchen without saying a word, leaving Thekla behind her.

Katza went to her room, where she sat on her bed and cried. It seemed as though a vision was caught behind her eyes and in its struggle to break free, every muscle in her face was being shredded into pieces. It had never happened this way before. Katza was worried.

Her mother called them
spells
, but this was no magic. Katza could not control this unwelcome gift. It opened up moments in which the future appeared, often in amazing detail. It made her dizzy, but there was usually little more discomfort than that. Her Sight came when it would, but her visions were as reliable as clockwork. Everything she saw came to pass. Katza knew she ought to be seeing something now—it was there, just out of reach. She had to lie down before she was ill.

The moment passed without revealing a vision and left her with a feeling that something was horribly wrong. The whole morning was wrong; Thekla was not prone to nightmares and Louis, who did often go hunting in the early hours, would usually stay home if asked. It wasn’t as though they relied on the game he caught. She suspected he used it as an excuse to explore the countryside. She had other suspicions, too, about his outings.

Katza had to somehow salvage the day. It was her birthday, after all, and she didn’t want everyone out of sorts. Perhaps Louis would agree to an early picnic when he returned. She would invite Thekla, she suddenly thought. The girl was turning into an old maid right before their eyes. Katza could not understand why Thekla concerned herself so with their younger siblings. They already had a perfectly good, caring mother of their own.

The only time Thekla ever seemed happy was when she was at the piano, eyes closed tight, fingers on the ivory keys, but those moments were too few and too far between. Katza nodded to herself. Yes, her idea would help them all.

Katza waited for Louis in the hallway and greeted him when he came home.

“Good morning, Louis.”

“And to you, Katza.” He leaned down and placed a kiss upon her cheek. “How are you on this fine day?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I am well. Did you have any success this morning?”

“No, nothing today. There was a fog on the lake. I could hardly see to walk, much less to shoot.”

“Ah.” She chose her next words carefully. Sometimes the tiniest thing upset him. “You seem distracted this morning, Louis. Is everything all right?”

“Yes, everything is fine. Why do you ask?” She noticed how his hand fluttered over his pocket as he smiled.

“I thought we might have a picnic. Thekla had a difficult night and I’d like to do something nice for her.”

Louis nodded. “She found me in the kitchen this morning. Something about dragons chasing her in her sleep. Are you sure you don’t mind? You have to prepare for your party.”

“That is hours away yet. I’ll tell Cook to fix us a basket.” She watched her brother’s face. Something was going on and she was determined to find it out.

The three met later that morning by the kitchen door where Cook handed them a basket. Katza watched as Louis lifted the lid to inhale the scent of warm bread. She saw him draw a single rose from out of his sleeve and place it under the loaf.

The uneasy feeling that had been with Katza all morning crept closer to the surface of her skin. She shook it off and smiled as Thekla pulled her by the sleeve.

“Let’s go.” Thekla was impatient.

Louis and Katza linked their arms in hers and sang an old nursery song as they strolled out of the wide, front doors and into the world beyond, where Thekla spun out her joy on the grass.

They reached their destination in no time, a small hill overlooking the lake. It was calm, a pleasant surprise after all the rain they’d been having, though storm clouds were forming over the Alps. It would probably rain again and very soon.

Katza made herself comfortable on the blanket and let her eyes roam the sky. Smaller, friendlier clouds fractured and came together and among them, the black speck of a bird circled far over the trees.

How nice it would be, Katza mused, to be a bird. She closed her eyes and imagined her wings stretched in the air, nothing above her and the land well below. She was blinded as the wind swept tears from her eyes. She was blind and she was free.

“Today is your birthday. Aren’t you excited?” The usually quiet Thekla was tugging on Katza’s hem where it sprawled over the blanket and onto the grass.

Katza opened her eyes and smiled. “Not as excited as you are, I think.”

Katza would have been more interested in her party had she not felt this thing beneath her breastbone, this sinister, sinking thing that should be a vision.

Louis was quiet, lost in his thoughts, but Thekla seemed glad for his presence. She kept near to them as they sat in silence, trying to fit herself into their circle.

“Are you sure you are well, Louis? You don’t seem yourself today.” Katza had to ask again.

“I am fine, thank you.”

They daydreamed, ate their bread and cheese and then folded up the blanket when the clouds overhead began to rumble. Louis gave the rose to Thekla, who clutched it to her chest.

Katza sent Thekla off to her rooms when they returned to the house and followed Louis to his. He took off his coat and hung it on the back of a stout wooden chair. She sat sideways on it and let her fingers toy with the collar.

“What is going on? Do not say it is nothing. Tell me what it is.” As she asked him the question, she realized she might not want to hear his answer. They had never again discussed what Louis had said to her that day, nor had she ever mentioned the night of the king’s visit, as promised. She felt she had to now.

“It is the king, isn’t it? Has he come here again?”

“Nothing has happened, Katza. I beg you to stay out of that business. You would not approve in any case.”

She smoothed his coat absentmindedly, as though heeding his words. Louis sat on the edge of his bed and began to remove his boots.

Head bent, he did not see Katza slide two thin fingers into the pocket of his jacket. She gently eased the piece of paper away from the fabric and unfolded it as Louis sat up. He saw what she was doing and snatched the paper from her hand.

“I asked you to stay out of my business. I thought you respected me, Katza. How could you do this?”

“Do what?” Katza was confused. Couldn’t he tell how she felt about him? Unlike Louis’ infatuation with the king, her love was real. She’d seen enough. The letter in his pocket was from Ludwig.

“Sneak into my personal belongings to read a letter meant for me.”

“That letter is from the king and you are a fool.” Katza spat out the words more ferociously than intended and could not call them back.

Louis shook his head in disgust. “Leave me alone. I am going out tonight, I must rest.”

“What do you mean, going out? It is my birthday.” Katza was shocked.

“Katza, he’s asked for me. I must go to him.”

The hard wood beneath her cheek pressed Helena slowly into consciousness. She raised her head carefully, felt for a bump and sat up to the sound of falling glass. Pieces of mirror littered the floor; some slid down her back when she moved. A tiny god peered out of each sliver. She stretched eight parts in equal measure and each part had a name. She was victorious—with Kitty’s gift, she could now feed every one. Helena rose from the floor, complete and utterly ravenous

Her hunger had increased a hundredfold.

She searched for the key. It meant something to her now and she wanted to keep it. Helena couldn’t wait to see Thekla’s face when she learned of this. She saw the key flicker in the glass beneath the tiny window, scooped it up, and clasped the chain around her neck. She left the secret room and took her first cautious step down into the dark stairwell, where the air was heavy and damp. She felt as though she were suffocating and put a hand to her chest. The door at the bottom of the steps was open and light fell onto the lower three stairs. Helena reached the bottom and peered out from behind the curtain concealing the door.

Kitty sat, much as she’d left her, eyes open and focused on Thekla, who stood in front of her sister a few paces away. Eva had her hand on the doorknob; she must have just entered the room. Thekla had a terrible expression on her face—what Helena could see of it. She held a rifle and had aimed it at Kitty. An eerie stillness shrouded them; nothing moved, not even the air as Helena breathed rapidly in and out of her nose.

“This isn’t funny,” she said to them.

No one answered. It seemed the entire world had ground to a halt along with her aunts. The windows were dark; all signs of the storm that had been raging outside when she’d first spoken with Kitty had vanished. A scarf of silence wrapped around her throat and tightened; she could not even use her own voice. She listened, but the house seemed as though it was sleeping. She should have at least heard the guests at her party—that many people make a terrible noise. There was nothing, not a single sound.

Helena edged past Aunt Eva carefully and followed the patterned rug in the hall past endless doors, every one of them open. She crept into the ballroom and caught her breath. The guests were there, and the group of four musicians in the corner, heads tilted at their violins. Above her head the stars hung motionless; the light of the sun had stopped revolving and all of the windows were dark.

It is a wax museum, she thought, remembering the pictures she’d once seen in a magazine Aunt Zilli had given her. She’d begged to be taken to one, but as usual, the answer had been no. Her eyes fell upon the pile of presents; the wrapping glittered and teased her. Helena let her fingers trail along the edge of the table. The lace on it rippled as her long nails snagged in its delicate latticework. The gaily wrapped packages waited, ready to reveal their contents at the cut of a ribbon. She looked up at the galaxy suspended from the ceiling, down into the frozen forest of guests, and remembered that she was whole.

Helena shed fear like a skin
—
it was no part of her
—
and walked through the crowd like a big cat on the prowl. She ducked under dancers’ arms and laughed at old Herr Krieger, who was bent over the roast with a fork in his hand. She toyed with the idea of knocking him down, but it would only be funny if he were awake to bear the brunt of her laughter. The expression of greed on his face as he stared at the succulent meat was too much.

Her stomach growled. Helena starved in more ways than one, but she did not want the food on the table. The kitchen, she thought. That never changes.

Its door, too, was open wide. There was no sign of Hope, but Helena thought nothing of it. She was most likely still in the ballroom, weirdly frozen with the rest. Helena did not care enough to search. She spied a bowl of fruit on the table, reached for an apple and then stopped herself. Helena’s hand wavered above its glistening surface as her hunger turned to disgust. She could not eat any of this, she realized. She did not trust the fruit, or anything else in the house. Fear or no, she could not deny that something was horribly wrong.