The Unfailing Light

Our graduation ceremony at the Smolny Institute for Young Noble Maidens was as beautiful and boring as it had been any other year. Medals were presented to the students with the highest marks, talented students entertained our imperial guests with music and dancing. The empress and Grand Duchess Xenia attended, along with several of the ladies of the Light Court. I won no medals, nor displayed any musical talent. Of course, if I had been pressed, I could have resurrected a dead butterfly or a toad for their amusement, but I did not believe it would have provided much entertainment.



I stood up and walked across the front of the dining hall to receive my certificate of completion from Madame Tomilov and dutifully kissed her cheek. She handed me a teaching diploma as well, as the girls in my Blue Form class applauded. My family sat with the other students' families, behind the imperial party. My mother clapped politely, and, curiously, I saw my father dab at the corner of his eye. Petya and Dariya clapped the loudest.



I felt a little sad packing my things up for the last time. Aurora promised to keep in touch with us all, as she was going to stay at her grandmother's summer estate in the country. Alix was going to her sister Ella's palace in Moscow. "Do you think the tsarevitch will forget about me?" she whispered as we gathered up the last of our things. "He is going to be on maneuvers with his regiment this summer."



"How can you think so little of him?" I teased. "He worried so much about you when the Koldun kidnapped you. He cares a great deal for you, Alix." I knew this to be true, since she'd told me about the kiss they'd shared in the carriage ride home from Vorontsov Palace.



She smiled, blushing. "You will keep in touch also, will you not? My sister and I will visit St. Petersburg again before I return to Wolfsgarten in a few months."



I gave her fingers a friendly squeeze. "Depend upon it."



It seemed strange not having Elena with us. I almost felt bad for her, wondering what her life would be like, banished to the tiny court of her father in the Black Mountains. A well-placed marriage seemed almost impossible now for her, but I suspected her mother would make sure that everything ended up happily. Surely they could find one eligible prince of Europe to cast a spell upon. But I would never let her interfere with Alix and the tsarevitch again.



Dinner that night at Betskoi House was wonderful. Dariya came with her stepmother, and Petya teased Aunt Zina by insisting she hold Sasha. The dark faerie did not realize what was wrong with the poor creature, but she could still sense something unnatural about it. Sasha shed clumps of fur on her lap and hissed when she tried to pet him. Aunt Zina looked horrified. "Zut alors!" she whispered.



"For goodness' sake, Petya," Maman scolded. "Leave Sasha alone and get ready for dinner." Dariya and I grinned as her stepmother tried to get the odor of undead cat out of her clothes.



Maman had made certain our cook prepared all of my favorite foods and surprised me with a raspberry and vanilla bombe glacee for dessert. It was wonderful to be home, and I decided that for just that one night, I would not worry about my future.



But when we were finished eating, and Papa and Petya had joined us in the drawing room for a game of cards that did not involve fortune-telling, the footman delivered a letter to Maman.



"So late at night?" Aunt Zina exclaimed. "It cannot be good news."



Papa frowned. "What is it, my dear?"



Maman opened the letter and a gray feather fell out of the folds, tumbling gently to the floor. My mother's face grew pale. "Mon Dieu," she whispered.



I was reminded of the owl we'd seen on the Anichkov Bridge the night I saved the Koldun. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I bent down to retrieve the feather. It had grown uncomfortably warm in the already cozy room. "Maman?" I asked as I held the feather out to her.



"Merci," she said faintly. "This message carries the seal of Madame Elektra. She has come to St. Petersburg and is staying at the Hotel Europa. She is asking for me."



"But does it say why?" Aunt Zina seemed perplexed as she started to get up and reach for the letter. Just then, Sasha poked his nose inside the drawing room and twitched his tail menacingly at her. My aunt sank back onto the love seat with Dariya.



Maman hastily stuffed the letter back in its envelope. "She is ill, the poor dear. I must go to her immediately." She glanced around at all of us as I stood up to accompany her. "No, Katiya. You must stay here."



"Should we send for Dr. Ostrev?" I asked. "He should go with you if she has no doctor attending her."



"That will not be necessary." My mother swept out of the room without another word. Papa followed her.



Dariya looked at me. "Will she be all right?"



"Papa won't let her go alone," Petya said. "Nor would I." He stood up as we heard our parents arguing in the hall.



Maman rushed in again, with her coat in her arms. She looked at my aunt. "Zenaida Dmitrievna, I'm afraid I must ask you to go with me."



"But Maman," Petya and I both started to protest. Aunt Zina gathered her things and told Dariya to stay where she was.



Dariya looked as bewildered as me. Maman and Aunt Zina were gone before anyone could say another word.



"Papa?" I asked as he returned to the drawing room holding the letter. "What is happening?"



The news had apparently shaken him as well. His hand seemed to tremble slightly as he laid the letter on the card table. "It appears your mother is Madame Elektra's heir."



"Is she very rich?" Dariya asked.



Papa's laugh was hollow. "Rich? No doubt." He went to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of vodka. He finished his drink before looking at me and Petya. "Madame Elektra is ... or was ... the last living striga in Russia. Your mother must now carry that title."



No wonder my father was trembling. "How could this happen? Why Maman?"



He looked at all of us, sitting nervously. "I suppose you should all hear this," he muttered, making himself another drink. "When Katiya was born, your mother bled heavily. Madame Elektra was there and was able to save her from death by giving her a glass of striga blood."



I thought back to the day in Yalta, the day that Dariya and I performed the play for everyone. Now Grand Duchess Miechen's words made sense. Maman owed the striga her life. "And Maman's been a blood drinker since I was born?" I asked.



Papa shook his head. "No, but she agreed to take the striga's place when she died. A striga lives a long time, but is not immune to old age. I wish I'd been there, but your mother was delirious from the birth and from the loss of so much blood. I doubt she knew what she was agreeing to at the time."



Petya looked angry. "So Maman willingly accepts this legacy from Madame Elektra and becomes a blood drinker? Are we in danger?"



"A striga only drinks the blood of other blood drinkers," I said, remembering the rest of what Miechen had told me.



"How frightening for the St. Petersburg vampires," Dariya said, laying a hand on my arm. "The Montenegrin veshtiza will not be happy."



And neither would the empress, I thought unhappily. There was no way we'd be able to keep this a secret. What would the imperial family think? There was no hope now of Maman ever returning to the Light Court.



Dariya and I played cards until we thought we'd die of boredom. It was after midnight when Maman and Aunt Zina returned. I stood up to greet my mother but was met with a surge of intense, suffocating heat. She was causing everyone's cold light to bend. Already, her new powers were frighteningly strong.



After saying their goodbyes, Aunt Zina and Dariya left. Petya and I kissed our mother goodnight on her cheek. But she stopped me. "Stay for a moment, Katiya. I must speak with you alone."



"Yes?"



Maman took my hands in hers and squeezed them. The room was not quite so warm anymore, now that everyone else had left. There was only my own cold light for her to affect. "I wanted to apologize for not taking you with me tonight. I had no idea how violent the ceremony was going to be, and I did not want you to see it."



There were tears in my mother's eyes.



"Did you know this was going to happen?" I asked. "How could you have told me that blood drinkers did not exist anymore?"



"For all I knew, they had all been banished from Russia. And Elektra was not the same as the others." She tucked one of my curls behind my ear, like she'd done a thousand times before. It seemed like such a normal action. Not something that a striga would do. "And she traveled to St. Petersburg so seldom."



"What was the ceremony tonight like?" I asked.



Maman pursed her lips. "Dreadful. She was on her deathbed and gave me a glass of her own blood, mixed with that of an upyri. It didn't taste bad, but it had a hint of rosemary. And after that delightful fennel salad at dinner ... well, you just can't have two strong herbs competing for your palate."



"Where on earth did she find upyri blood?" I wanted to believe that the striga had found the primitive blood drinker somewhere far from St. Petersburg. But what if that was what she'd been hunting here in the city? Petya and the rest of the imperial guard would have to be warned.



"Who knows," Maman said. "Now off to bed with you, dear. We've been invited to the ballet tomorrow and I think I shall let you attend with your aunt Alexandra. I have an atrocious headache, and I don't see how it could possibly be gone by tomorrow afternoon."



I was happy to hear that my father's sister had returned to St. Petersburg from Kiev. She was much nicer than Aunt Zina. And much less ambitious. "Good night, then, Maman. Do you want me to send Anya in with some tea?" I stopped. "Or are you able to drink tea anymore?"



"Hmm? Oh, I'm sure it will be fine. Of course, Elektra preferred cocoa." She kissed both my cheeks. "Just have her bring it to me in my room, dear."



She no longer seemed as upset as she had when she'd first received Madame Elektra's letter. I could have sworn I heard her humming a gypsy love song as I left the drawing room. It was as if turning into a striga had been no more traumatizing than changing one's hairstyle. I sighed as I went upstairs to find Anya.