As Red as Blood (The Snow White Trilogy) (23 page)

Normal people’s lives didn’t include passing information to crime bosses about when and where the police would be conducting their next raid, what dealers were informants, what trucks would be stopped at the border, or what campaigns were in the works to weed out drug trafficking. Normal people’s lives also didn’t include being tipped off about drug stashes or dirt on small-time crooks that Sokolov’s gang wanted to get rid of for one reason or another. Over the years, Terho had solved an embarrassing number of crimes with Sokolov’s help. He had told himself that they both benefited from the agreement.

Sokolov wanted a monopoly on the Tampere drug trade, and Terho wanted to lock up the dangerous dealers who sold contaminated mixtures and outright poison in place of
genuine product and were really responsible for most of the drug deaths.

He had assuaged his conscience by telling himself that Sokolov mostly sold to people who had their habits under control and weren’t going to end up in the ER with overdoses. Recreational users. But he had known for a long time that was only part of the truth. Sokolov was also perfectly happy to take money from people who would have been better off buying bread and milk for their children. Terho had just wanted to bury his head in the sand.

He wanted to bury his head in the sand now too. Suddenly, he was painfully tired. He wanted to get out of there.

Just then, Terho noticed the same young woman whose dress had caught his attention earlier. This time, he also noticed the woman’s white beaded handbag. Generally, he didn’t know the first thing about women’s purses, but this particular one he happened to know a lot about. A Hermés original, it cost hundreds of euros. He knew because he had bought exactly the same bag for Elisa as a birthday present since she had been begging for it for so long.

A similar evening gown could be a coincidence.

A similar purse could be a coincidence.

But both of them together on the same woman couldn’t be.

With a few steps, Terho strode over to the woman, took her firmly by the arm, and demanded an explanation.

Boris Sokolov’s interest perked up when he saw Terho Väisänen arguing with a young woman. Moving closer, he
grasped enough of Väisänen’s Finnish to understand that he was claiming to have bought the woman’s handbag and dress. And shoes.

Boris snorted. Apparently, Väisänen had been spending his money on women besides Natalia. That would have to end now too. Boris was already turning back the way he had come when he caught the word
tytär
.
Daughter
.

That stopped Boris in his tracks. His brain raced a million miles an hour. If the girl in the red dress was Terho Väisänen’s daughter, it was clear she knew too much. She knew who had chased her in the woods. She might even know about Natalia. And the money. Why else would she be here at the party?

He’d better go talk to her and make sure she knew to keep her mouth shut just like her father.

Lumikki tried to wrench her arm free of Elisa’s father’s grasp, but as a police officer, he was clearly used to dealing with uncooperative people. His grip was like iron.

“Answer me! Why do you have Elisa’s purse?” Lumikki could see Boris Sokolov approaching. Something in his eyes scared her.

Väisänen was oppressively close.

He sniffed the air. “You’re even wearing her perfume!” he snapped.

Sokolov was only three steps away.

Lumikki had to get away.

Forcefully, she shoved Elisa’s handbag against her father’s chest.

“Fine, take it. Unfortunately, I can’t return the perfume.”

Väisänen was thrown off guard enough that his grip loosened ever so slightly. It was enough. Lumikki tore herself away and rushed toward the stairs. She heard Sokolov coming after her, bellowing something in Russian.

At the stairs, she ran into a server dressed as Alice in Wonderland and carrying some sort of dairy-based drinks. Maybe White Russians. Silently apologizing, Lumikki knocked the serving tray out of the woman’s hands. Liquid and shards of glass spread across the stairs. She heard Sokolov slip and swear.

That bought Lumikki a few precious seconds. Snatching her high heels off her feet, she burst through the crowd, clutching the shoes in her hands. To the front door and out into the night. She continued running along the candlelit path.

Fire walk with me
. This whole thing was starting to feel more and more like something from
Twin Peaks
. All that was missing was the dwarf.

Sokolov yelled to the guards on the stairs.

“Stop her!”

The men turned and blocked her way, two refrigerators she didn’t stand a chance of getting past.

Lumikki swerved and changed direction. Sokolov followed. A high wall surrounded the building on every side. Lumikki ran to the farthest corner. It was dark. The snow stung the soles of her feet, which were covered only with thin pantyhose.

Lumikki quickly scanned the wall with her hand. There was nothing to grip. Even a monkey wouldn’t have been able
to climb it. But then she found a small hole. Stabbing the point of one of her heels deep into the hole, she climbed up and stood on the shoe. She nearly lost her balance. Sokolov was almost to the wall.

Driving the other shoe into the wall heel first, she took another big step up. Sokolov seized the hem of her dress.

The hem ripped.

The shoe broke.

The shoe fell into the snow, leaving only the thin heel stuck in the wall. Lumikki’s feet flailed in the air without any support. However, her fingers clung to the top of the wall, and she just managed to pull herself up as Sokolov’s hand grazed her foot.

Lumikki dropped down on the other side, landing in a soft snowdrift. Instead of trying to get over the wall himself, Sokolov took off running, presumably toward the gate. Lumikki took off through the snow, which came up to her calves. The hem of her evening gown was ripped on one side, revealing her entire thigh.

Good,
Lumikki thought as she ran. Otherwise, moving would be harder.

Running in the snow was difficult, and the cold bit with razor teeth. The forest was as dark as blackness itself.

Sokolov was falling farther and farther behind though. Lumikki sped up. This was the third time in four days that someone had chased her and she’d had to run away through the snow and cold.

Three tries. In fairy tales, the heroes always got three tries. The first two failed, but the third succeeded. Did that
mean that she would get away once and for all? Or that her pursuers would finally catch her?

Third time’s the charm. Three strikes and you’re out. Which one was this?

Suddenly, Lumikki felt something painfully scratch her bare thigh. She ignored it. She just ran and waded and struggled on. Finally, the sounds of pursuit faded.

Lumikki brushed her thigh with her fingers, which came back with something warm and wet. Blood. Sokolov had shot her in the thigh, but luckily, the bullet had only grazed her. Blood was flowing heavily though.

Lumikki didn’t want to think about it.

She just ran. The forest embraced her like dark water.

But now the poor child was all alone in the great forest. So afraid was she that, seeing all the leaves on the trees, she knew not whither to turn for help. Then she began to run and ran over the sharp rocks and through the thorns, and wild beasts jumped at her but passed by, doing her no harm. On she ran as long as her legs would carry her, and night began to fall.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who ran so far her legs couldn’t carry her anymore. And then she continued to run, in her mind, in her dreams. Her slender, strong, agile legs dashed over the drifts leaving nary a print in the soft white snow. She fled as those flee who know they are free, who know that no one will catch them.

Lumikki teetered on the border between consciousness and oblivion.

She was no longer cold. She was warm. At some level, she knew that was a bad thing, but she didn’t care anymore. She lay on her back in the snow.

She thought of the blood trickling from her thigh into the snow. She imagined how the red would form beautiful spirals
against the white, painting a gorgeous pattern that would spread a few feet, a few more, out across the entire forest.

She saw herself from above as if she were floating thirty feet in the air. Black hair arrayed against the snow like a halo. An evening gown that, even torn, glowed as though spun from red rubies. Twisting patterns that extended, growing organically.

Beautiful. Not ugly.

Ugly. Fat. Too skinny. Weird teeth. Annoying voice. Greasy hair. Dirty shoes. Hairy arms. Stupid. Idiot. Weirdo. Bitch. Whore.

Where did you get those clothes? Out of the trash?

Your parents are probably ashamed to go out in public with you.

If I looked like that, I’d never leave home.

You must be adopted.

No one will ever want to kiss you.

No one could love somebody like you.

Why are you crying? If it hurts, say so. Oh, it hurts? Shut up or I’ll give you a real reason to cry.

You’re so ugly you actually look better with bruises.

Words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words. Phrases, sentences, questions, shouts. Pinching, scratching, hitting, dragging, pulling, shoving, kicking.

You aren’t those words. You aren’t the shouts and names. You aren’t the awful things spat at you like flavorless gum. You aren’t the punches or the bruises they cause. You aren’t the blood running from your nose. You aren’t under their control. You are not theirs.

Inside you is always the part of you that no one can touch. You are you. You are your own and inside you is the universe. You can be whatever you want. You can be anyone.

Don’t be afraid. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.

“I don’t have to be afraid anymore,” Lumikki whispered quietly to herself.

Steam rose from her mouth.

She still remembered their faces. Their girlish voices and laughs that echoed, echoed, echoed down the halls of the school even after the day had ended and the building was silent.

She remembered the smells especially. In the early years, it was the cloying imitation aromas of scented erasers. Then sweets eaten secretly at recess, raspberry hard candies and licorice together. A breath in her face, sweet and salty intermixed. Toffee, mango, and peppermint lip gloss. Body Shop vanilla perfume, the first one their mothers would let them wear at school. Then later, the real perfumes that changed with the day, the mood, the clothes, and the trends. Escada’s scent of the season.

She learned to recognize them quickly and precisely, smelling them from a distance so she could tell when they would turn the corner. Sometimes it helped. Sometimes she had time to hide. But usually it didn’t. Then she learned how nauseating perfume can really smell when its stench mixes with sweat, or how an unwashed urinal in the boys’ bathroom stinks when your head is shoved in it and you’re ordered to lick the cold, hard porcelain.

She remembered their names. She would always remember their names.

Anna-Sofia and Vanessa.

It had lasted from first grade to the middle of ninth. Every year, the hands were stronger, the words more cruel, the blows more painful. Lumikki didn’t know why the girls had chosen her. Maybe she’d smiled the wrong way or not smiled at all. Maybe she’d used the wrong tone of voice at the wrong time. It didn’t matter. She’d learned quickly that she would never be able to change herself or her behavior enough to make Anna-Sofia and Vanessa leave her in peace.

Lumikki had never told anyone. She’d never even considered it an option. Silence had been the general rule at home. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Everything was good if nothing bad was said out loud. The bruises, the scrapes, the sprained wrists, the ripped clothing. Everything could be explained if an explanation was necessary. School had been a battlefield, and Lumikki could never be sure who was a friend and who was an enemy. Her strategies had required careful thought. Try to minimize casualties. Telling the teachers would just have made the situation worse. She had to assume they wouldn’t believe her. Anna-Sofia and Vanessa knew how to playact in front of the adults. Their smiles were angelic and innocent.