Dreaming Anastasia (20 page)

Thursday, 8:18 am

Anne

You could have at least called and told me you weren't going to school today,” Tess says when she's caught her breath.

“I did, but I got your voice mail, so I left you a message. Didn't you—?”

“Oh. Well, whatever.” Tess grins. “I got to your house, and your mom said you'd already gone with Ethan.”

Tess turns to him and narrows her eyes. “How is it that Anne's mom seems just fine with you, by the way? What'd you do, put some mystical Russian whammy on her?”

“Save it, Tess.” I put my hand on her shoulder.

She glares at Ethan for a couple more seconds, then gestures at me with the lacquer box. “Anyway, I saw the box on your kitchen table, so I snagged it. Thought you just might need it. I figured I'd find you guys at the professor's.” She hands me the box. “Oh, and before you interrogate me about how I got here,” she adds, “I got Neal to cut school and take me. Figured he owed me a favor or ten. He's out there circling Sheridan Road for a few minutes—or he better be.” She frowns, most likely thinking of ways she'll avenge herself on Neal if he's left her.

“I was researching Baba Yaga some more last night,” Tess continues. “Do you know that in Russia, they used to call a girl a
baba
once she lost her virginity? And I am so not a witch—at least, not most of the time.” She pauses for breath. “God, it's stormy out here,” she says.

Another crack of lightning, followed by a burst of thunder, punctuates her words. I tighten my grip on the lacquer box. Its sharp edges dig into my palm.

“Did the professor figure out anything?” Tess asks. “Do you guys know how to get the key out of the box?”

Her words stab at my heart. “Maybe,” I say. “Uh—well, not quite. We…I—”

“He's dead,” Ethan says quietly. His voice is flat. “Professor Olensky is dead. We think Viktor killed him. If that young man who brought you is still here, I would suggest you get in the car and let him drive you back to school. It will be safer for you there.”

For the first time since her arrival, Tess is silent. But there's no time for silence, no time for grieving. “Go, Tess,” I say. “Ethan's right. You've got to get out of here.”

I hand the box to Ethan and wrap my arms around Tess. A single tear works its way down her cheek. She makes no move to wipe it away. Around us, people continue to scurry as the clouds billow faster.

“Thank you for coming here, Tess,” I tell her. My throat feels so tight that it's hard to get the words out. “There's no one I trust like I trust you.”

Ethan blinks—once—at that last part. But it's true.

The rain starts then—huge drops soaking us within seconds. In the distance, I recognize Neal's red Bronco hovering on the street at the edge of campus. “Go on,” I yell to Tess above the wind. “Ethan's with me. It'll be okay.” I'm lying, of course, but what else can I say?

Then something happens that doesn't normally occur on college campuses in quiet Chicago suburbs. Okay—it doesn't happen anywhere.

With a cracking sound, the clouds open. Baba Yaga appears in front of me, just like she did before—only this time, I'm not the only one who can see her. I'm certain of that, since Tess is grabbing my arm and shrieking.

The witch's face is so close to me, I can feel the heat of her breath, practically see my reflection in those iron teeth. “I told you, girl,” she says. “I told you when it began that I'd have to try to stop you. That I would have no choice.”

Ethan lunges at her. She swats him away like he's a rag doll. He stumbles backward and lands in the grass.

“Remember, Anne!” Baba Yaga howls over the wind. “Remember all I told you. You will need it now. It is time. It has begun!”

Tess is still screaming. I add some of my own to the mix.

Baba Yaga soars up into the clouds and lands in what looks like a giant tea cup without handles. The mortar streaks off through the clouds.

“What is that?” I shout to Ethan. Between the wind and Tess's screams, I can barely hear myself.

“Her mortar!” he shouts back. “In the stories, that's what she rides in.”

And then it gets worse. Because then she flops her humongous hands out of the mortar and sends them hurtling to the sidewalk. They scoot along on their fingertips, heading right for us.

The only thing that's missing is for the witch to zoom across the clouds and skywrite
Surrender, Dorothy.

“Oh, my God!” Tess shrieks, although I have a hard time hearing her over my own screams. “You really
have
been telling the truth, haven't you? I mean, I believed you, because you're my best friend, but I'm not sure if I
believed you,
believed you!”

The disembodied hands continue to trot down Sheridan Road. A campus bus slams to a halt, and three cars smash into it and each other. I guess the drivers have noticed the freak of anatomy on the sidewalk.

To Neal's credit, he's still got the Bronco waiting at the curb.

“Get the hell out of here!” Ethan snaps.

“You damn well better keep her safe!” Tess tells him. Her eyes narrow again. She wraps me in a quick hug. Then she takes off down the path and throws herself into the Bronco. Neal careens away from the curb, barely avoiding another pileup with more freaked-out onlookers. Then an all-too-familiar black limousine pulls into the spot he's just vacated.

The hands hesitate, then turn and head toward the limo. It pulls away with a squeal of tires that's audible even from this distance.

“Run!” Ethan says.

I don't need a second invitation.

Thursday, 8:40 am

Ethan

We sprint west across Sheridan Road. The limo does a screeching U-turn and follows us down a side street. Baba Yaga's hands do the same.

Problem is, my car is parked in the opposite direction.

There's no time to rummage up a spell—no time to do anything but keep running.

“The El station!” Anne gasps. She's keeping pace beside me. “Up there.”

“Perfect,” I manage. “We'll double back somehow when the train stops at Howard.”

The El line from Evanston ends at Howard Street. Riders have to transfer to another train if they want to head into Chicago. The El goes just far enough to get us out of reach for a while. Viktor and Baba Yaga could still follow us. Probably will. But right now it's our best option. Until this is over, we're not safe anywhere.

Behind us, tires screech. I glance over my shoulder. Baba Yaga's mortar hovers in front of Viktor's limo. Her hands scuttle back to her. For the moment, she's blocking Viktor's path.

I don't take time to question our good fortune. I just grab Anne's hand and keep running.

We reach the train station. I flash my hand over the pass-card slot. “Cool!” Anne says. We push through the turnstile and dash toward the stairs.

Atop the El platform we look up. Baba Yaga's mortar streaks through the sky. Where Viktor is at this point is anyone's guess. Two black, billowing clouds split apart. The witch flies into the opening. And then as suddenly as she'd appeared, she's gone.

A train pulls to a stop next to us. The car doors slide open. I pull Anne with me into the last car and we flop into two available seats. The doors close. With a jerk, the train pulls from the station and heads toward Chicago.

For the moment, neither of us speaks. We just sit hip to hip in the small seat, rocking with the train.

“She's going to keep coming after me,” Anne says when she finally speaks. She ties back her hair that came loose as we ran.

“Seems that way,” I say.

“And I get that,” she says. “I mean, sort of. She keeps saying that's part of the deal. You guys used magic to compel her to protect Anastasia. She says she's bound to keep doing so. That's what she told me in my dream—that she's going to have to stop me if she can.”

“You know, that's not what I thought,” I say. “All these years I believed that once we found you—” I don't know what to say next. She already knows that everything I've believed in for so long is a lie.

I close my eyes, but all I can see is Alex lying dead. I open my eyes again.

“You didn't kill him, Ethan,” Anne says softly. She reaches over and covers my hand with hers. “Viktor did. You know it, Ethan. Please say you know that.”

The grief squeezes at my heart so hard that I wonder if it will just stop beating. The cruel irony is that it can't.

“He wanted to hurt me,” I tell Anne, “so badly that I'd stop and just let it all be. So now my dear friend is lying there dead, and I wasn't able to prevent it. Alex trusted me, Anne. Just like you're trusting me. And look where it got him.”

“It got him a good friend.” Anne shifts in her seat to face me. “Someone he believed would keep trying. Think about it, Ethan. You could have given up searching for me—just enjoyed living forever and gone on. Even if it isn't perfect, it's still immortality, isn't it? If you let Anastasia stay at Baba Yaga's, you get to live forever. But you can't—and not just because it's lonely. You knew someone was counting on you. God, Ethan, you've been strong for all these years. How can you sound like you're going to give up on it all now?”

The answer strikes me with a force that slices through all my self-pity. “That's it!” I say, as much to myself as to Anne. “I can't believe it's never occurred to me!”

“What's it?” Anne raises an eyebrow.

I grab her hands in mine. “It's his immortality, Anne. When we bring Anastasia back, Viktor and I, and the others who took that pledge, will be released. We'll become fully mortal again. We'll start to live our lives. And eventually, like we're supposed to, we'll die. Maybe Viktor wants to keep living, Anne—so much that he's willing to commit murder in order to do so.”

Thursday, 9:00 am

Anne

Well, duh.

It makes perfect sense. Of course Viktor wants to keep his immortality. It's like it's in the
Bad Guys' Handbook
or something. Keep on ticking as long as possible so you can continue to stay rich and powerful and pretty.

Ethan's right. Knowing that you can't die if you just keep one girl alive—a girl the world thinks is dead anyway—how could that not be tempting? It could even be tempting enough to turn someone into a stone cold murderer.

“We'll find her, Ethan,” I say, even though I'm not at all sure that's ever really going to happen. “I mean, you found me, didn't you?”

Underneath my feet, I feel the steady vibration of the train. Ethan leans closer to me—so close that my heart does a little
thump, thump
hop in my chest. I study his face. Those blue eyes. That shaggy chestnut hair that's all tousled from the wind.

“I almost lost you,” he says quietly. And all at once, it feels like we're the only two on the train, even though I can see a lady and two little boys a few rows ahead of us. “Here I've finally found you, and Viktor almost—”

It occurs to me that he just might kiss me—and that I just might kiss him back. Which I'm thinking would probably not be the best of ideas right now.

“I don't think so,” I tell him. “You—a hundred. Me—sixteen.”

“I wasn't—we weren't…” He stumbles into silence. Clearly, he was and we were, and we're both pretty sure that we shouldn't.

Okay, I'm not totally sure—but I'm sure enough. Even though the image of that lion tattoo is dancing in the front of my brain, and I'm certain that he'd have more manners than Adam and all that Corona-inspired groping he was so fond of.

“Hey,” I say. It's not the smoothest transition, but it's the best I can come up with.

“Hey, what?” Ethan leans back in his seat. I'm not sure whether he's relieved or disappointed that our lips are no longer in kissing distance.

“Why now?” I ask him. “Baba Yaga told me it's all beginning. Well, why now? What's different now? If you compelled her to keep Anastasia safe, and now she's trying to stop me, does that mean I've got everything I need to get to the hut? Even if Viktor thinks I don't?”

Before he can answer, the train starts to slow. I look out the window. We're at Howard Street.

“C'mon,” Ethan says. He stands up, swaying with the motion of the train, and holds out his hand to me. “We need to get someplace safe so we have time to pull this all together. But you're right. Something's changed, and we need to figure out what.”

The train stops, and the doors open. Ethan and I step out onto the platform. I'm less than thrilled to be out in the open again. I scan the skies. Lots of thunderclouds, but no Baba Yaga.

Our train moves on so it can turn around and head back to Evanston.

Ethan hesitates, then heads us for the stairs. “Let's get to the street,” he says. “We'll be less of a target if we've got more room to run.”

His words only make my heart kick an extra beat.

We start down the stairs. I'm not even really looking, just walking on autopilot. My brain is occupied with trying to undo this puzzle before it's too late. I press my free hand to my jacket pocket. The lacquer box is still there. Pieces of my dream start coming back to me. Something about turning the box. Something—

Ethan stiffens. His hand squeezes mine so hard that I yelp.

“Turn around now,” he says.

I don't have any choice in the matter. He's already yanking me back up the stairs. I risk a glance behind me and understand why.

Ethan drags me up the last few stairs. Another train is already leaving the platform. Its doors are closed. We lope along the platform next to the moving train. Ethan slams his hand on the doors of the third car. His fingers glow against the metal of the train and he shouts out some words. The doors slide open briefly, and we slip in. They close again as the train picks up speed.

Only then do I risk a glance out the window. Dimitri rushes into view as the train carries us out of his reach.