The Anathema (22 page)

The Witch reached down fearfully, and before she had a chance to recoil, Alice kicked the drawer closed on her hand. She leaned into it, putting all her weight on the boot until she was certain the Witch’s fingers were broken. The Witch cried and thrashed around helplessly, torn between pain from her fractured hand and fear of the gun in her face.

“Oh, come on,” Alice scolded. “What did you think I was going to do?”

Alice let up on the pressure, and the Witch snatched her mangled hand away, holding both arms out in front of her as if she didn’t know what to do with them, one dangling at the wrist, the other with smashed fingers. Alice took the gun away, then whipped it backwards into the Witches jaw with as much force as she could put behind it, breaking her jaw and laying her out.

“Okay, Gaul,” Alice said, breathing heavily. “We got a live one.”

“We would be honored, if you would join us,” Anastasia deadpanned, as Alex walked into the dining room, Emily hovering nervously behind him with a guilty expression on her face.

“This doesn’t really seem like the time for pop culture references,” Alex murmured, surveying the people at the table. He’d been expecting official representatives from the Hegemony, or something similar. He had not been expecting Anastasia Martynova and Therese Muir to be sitting at the table opposite each other, Therese gripping an enormous glass of white wine and looking extremely unhappy. Anastasia was flanked by the pleasantly smiling Timor, and Alex couldn’t help but wonder where Renton was.

“I think I deserve some credit for trying,” Anastasia complained. “I thought all boys loved
Star Wars
. Don’t tell me you prefer
Star Trek
?”

“What?” Alex asked, shaking his head as Emily gently urged him over to his seat, right next to her. “No way.
Star Wars
has light sabers.
Star Trek
is for nerds and fags.”

“Hey,” Timor objected, his grip tightening on the stem of his wine glass. “I like the old series. What’s wrong with that?”

“William Shatner,” Alex said, sitting down. “You are seriously going to say that William Shatner running around in a unitard with an electric shaver for a gun is cooler than the Death Star? It blows up fucking planets, man.”

“Wait a minute. Did you not see the last three movies? Anakin? Jar-Jar?”

“Hey, c’mon. You don’t have to be mean. Besides, the second trilogy doesn’t count.”

“It doesn’t? What about when they rereleased the original movies with all those new effects like dinosaurs everywhere and Greedo shooting first? Do those count?”

“As much as
Deep Space Nine
does,” Alex countered.

“Excuse me,” Emily said, shaking her head while she headed to the kitchen. “But would you boys stop now, please?”

“Sorry,” Timor said, looking chastised.

“Sorry,” Alex echoed.

“Nice to see you again, Alex,” Therese prompted, glaring at him over the rim of her wine glass.

“You too, Therese,” Alex said, doing his best to sound pleased. “How have you been?”

“I’ve had better company for dinner.”

Therese paused to give Anastasia a significant look before shrugging at Alex and returning to her drink. Anastasia ignored her politely. The ensuing silence seemed to be a contest as to whether the strain would get to Timor or Therese first. Anastasia seemed unmoved, while Alex was more concerned with the fact that his sweater and slacks made him the only person here who wasn’t well dressed. At least Therese, he noted with relief, had not bothered with niceties of hair and makeup. Anastasia, on the other hand, had apparently taken the opportunity to dress up even more than she normally did; as far as Alex could tell, she had opted for a sort of gothic-
Little House on the Prairie
-look, wearing a deep purple velvet dress, complete with corset and matching lipstick and eye shadow.

Then Emily arrived with the food, to everyone’s relief. There was a salad, layered with radish slices and white, crumbly goat cheese; bread toasted with butter and herbs; small plates of mozzarella and purple-pink tomato, covered in balsamic vinegar. Alex had forgotten how good Emily’s cooking was, and he devoured everything that was put in front of him. Emily, he noticed, had even produced vegan dishes for Anastasia, who seemed to be unusually cheerful.

The conversation started tentatively at first, and of course, Emily had to smooth the way, asking Timor a series of friendly questions that caused the boy to blush and sink further and further into his chair, until Therese exploded in raucous, semi-drunken laughter. Unexpectedly, Anastasia laughed as well, and things were more relaxed after that. His impression hadn’t been wrong, Alex discovered – Anastasia was in a better mood this evening than he had ever seen her previously.

Emily cleared the plates, recruiting a reluctant Therese’s help, and then brought out the main course, roast chicken with fennel and rice for everyone but Anastasia, who got tiny pasta that looked like rice stuffed inside of a grilled bell pepper. The chicken was as good as he expected, savory and tender, and when Emily did little more than pick at her own, Alex assumed responsibility for it. At Anastasia’s insistence, he tried her pasta, which was actually quite good.

Desert was a fruit torte that Anastasia had brought, with a crust that was reminiscent of graham cracker. Anastasia waited until everyone had moved on to coffee, except for Therese, who was still drinking.

“I hope this has put us all on a better footing,” Anastasia said with apparent sincerity. “I will be the first to admit that this is an awkward situation that we find ourselves in, but I think that it would be easier if we were at least civil with each other. We don’t have to be friends, but if you decide to go along with my proposal, we will be spending a great deal of time together in the near future.”

“Um…” Alex began, only to be cut off by Therese snorting.

“Friends? Did you actually just say that?”

Anastasia smiled back at her.

“I said we didn’t have to be friends, Therese,” she said sweetly. “I think you misunderstood.”

“Wait, wait,” Alex said, waving his arm, “what are you proposing? Wait, before that, how many people at this table know what is going on here? Show of hands?”

Nothing happened for a second, and then Anastasia rolled her eyes, followed by Emily tentatively putting a hand up, as did Timor. Therese remained contemptuously silent, but she looked aware to Alex.

“Okay, well, I always like that,” he said glumly. “Will there ever be a point when I am not the last one to find these things out?”

“Probably not,” Anastasia said, her head cocked to the side, considering.

“That was more of rhetorical question,” Alex said sadly.

“I hate those. What is the point, after all? If you ask a question out loud then you should expect it to be answered,” Anastasia said firmly. Alex got the sense that this was something that really bothered her. “Anyway, you don’t have to get nervous, Alex. It’s not a plot or something. It’s more like a surprise. Tell me, Alex,” Anastasia said, pausing to sip at the herbal tea she apparently preferred to coffee, “what are you doing for Spring Break?”

Alex tried to find an answer that fit the situation, but found the English language lacking. Instead, he made a weird, interrogative noise.

“You are aware that in two weeks, just after midterms, we will all get three weeks off, correct?” Anastasia asked patiently.

“Yes,” Alex said, pleased to have found his voice again. “But I haven’t given it much thought. It’s not like I have some place to go back to,” Alex said, shrugging because he knew it should have hurt, because people always expected him to feel that way. He didn’t really remember having a home, not one that he’d ever felt like going back to, so he didn’t miss it, either.

“I’m sorry,” Emily said, automatically.

“Right, it’s always more complicated for orphans,” Anastasia said, nodding. “So, like I said, what are you going to do?”

“Well, Michael said I could stay at the Academy if I wanted to,” Alex said, not aware of how lame it sounded until he said it out loud. “You know, just train with him and hang out and stuff. He said a few people stay around.”

“Trust me, there will be no one here, except for Gaul and Rebecca and similar types. Besides, you’ll just sleep the whole three weeks if no one looks after you. Since you clearly have no plans, allow me to suggest accompanying us.”

“Wait, what? Who is ‘us’?”

Emily leaned over to cover Alex’s hand with her own. He was too annoyed to put up with it now, and meant to pull his hand out from under, but for some reason, he didn’t. He tried one of the breathing exercises Michael had taught him to deal with stress, and was surprised to find that it worked.

“Us is me and Therese, and Anastasia and company,” Emily said, looking him in the eyes with a hopeful expression and squeezing his hand. “It could be really cool, you know? We could finally get some time to hang out.”

“Yeah,” Alex said uncertainly. “So, uh, where are you guys going?”

“This island that I own,” Anastasia said offhandedly. “It is really quite nice. There is a house there with enough room for everyone. I’ve already sent some staff ahead to prepare. The food won’t be as good as tonight,” she said regretfully, “but I am certain that the experience, over all, will be a positive one.”

“You have an island?”

“Yes,” Anastasia said, nonplussed. “The Black Sun has a few, actually, but this one is mine. Inherited from my mother. I went there a great deal as a child.”

“I see,” Alex said distantly.

“Alex, it’ll have to be more fun than sitting around the Academy, right?” Emily pleaded. Alex didn’t want to disappoint her, but he felt uncomfortable with the entire situation.

“Probably,” he allowed cautiously. “But, first I have to know – why would you be going on vacation with Anastasia, Emily? Or you, Therese?”

“Well…”

“I wonder the same thing myself,” Therese interjected, sounding angry and tipsy. “Don’t act so put out, kiddo. You’re hardly the only one who didn’t see this coming.”

“Could I explain?” Anastasia offered. “Emily is coming so that she can be around you without interference. Therese is coming because as an agent of the Hegemony, she can’t pass up the opportunity to visit one of the private sanctums of the Black Sun. From an intelligence standpoint, it’s an offer she simply can’t refuse. Once her superiors heard about the offer, they insisted that she come along.”

“Anastasia!” Emily said, stunned. “How could you say that?”

“Ah,” Alex said, trying to process. There was a pause. “Blunt as always.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Anastasia asked, shrugging. “I’ll just tell you, so you won’t waste the evening trying to formulating the question on your own – I am doing this because I always prefer diplomacy, and because I have been compensated appropriately for my time and effort. And also,” Anastasia added, averting her eyes, “I would prefer having someone besides Renton to go to the beach with. There is, in fact,” she added hastily, “a long tradition for this sort of thing. Many of the established families host orphans during the holidays. It’s not so unusual.”

“Ah. I see,” Alex said slowly, thinking the exact opposite. He had never previously speculated that Anastasia even cared that Renton was creepy, or that she could have possibly owned a bathing suit. He pictured her in an old-timey full-body stocking and cap, and barely managed to stop himself from laughing aloud.

“I don’t know what you are thinking, but cut it out,” Emily said sternly.

“Right. You really have an island?”

“I do,” Anastasia said modestly. “A small one.”

“Not an evil island, or a cursed island, or an island where you do forbidden experiments or summon terrible elder gods?” Alex asked, leaning forward eagerly.