Waking Anastasia (33 page)

“Nah, I’m pretty sure they’re okay, just so long as they don’t have to stop over in Alberta. Victoria is so British that Torontonians are relatively safe.”

“Then I think we’re all good to go,
mon ami
.” He smiled, and it was just what Jerry needed to see.

“Excellent. I’ll make the bookings and email the information to each of you, as back-up. If I don’t talk to you before then, rest assured that I’ll meet you at the airport. All you have to do is pack your bags and make the flight.”

“Okay, Jerr.”

“You got it, big brother.”

“We’ll see you Friday, Jerry. I love you.
We
love you.”

“I love you guys, too. Bye.” He disconnected the call, placed the laptop on the coffee table, and tilted over sideways on the couch, into Ana’s lap. “Holy crap. I’m exhausted, and it has nothing to do with being sick. I’m sorry I didn’t introduce you, Shvibzik. It’ll be easier in person, when you can work your charms on Mom and tame her with your smile.”

“I look forward to it. She may anger you and make you want to scream, but remember that you live a long way from home and she is most likely frustrated that she cannot help you in your time of need. I remember more than one night when Mother cried herself to sleep because Alexei’s health was declining and the doctors were less than useless.”

“Maybe so, but Mom has been like that all my life, even when I was a kid at home. She’s the main reason I haven’t lived in Toronto since I graduated from high school. I love her, I just can’t be around her for any longer than a few minutes. I don’t know how Carole does it.”

“Daughters are different. I cannot explain how, but although Mother loved us all immensely, she had a special bond with Alexei which had nothing to do with either his health or his being the Tsarevich.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You will see, when she arrives.”

“If you say so. Are you sure you want to meet her? Haven’t you had enough trauma in your life?”

Ana flicked his ear with her finger.

“Ouch!”

“Mr. Powell, I certainly hope you are not comparing your lovely mother to the Bolshevik bastards who butchered my family. I do not care how cruel you think your mother has been over the years, there is no comparison.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Good. Now relax while I massage the lumps on your head.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s ‘Yes, your Highness’, Mister Powell.” She kissed his brow and then massaged his skull with such delicate skill that he soon drifted off. When he finally awoke, Ana was watching
The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey
. From his sideways position, it looked like the adventurers were just leaving Rivendell. Jerry sat up slowly.

“Jerry, I want to be an elf.” She paused the movie.

“An elf?”

“Galadriel is so full of grace and beauty. A true royal who would be perfectly at home in any royal court I have
ever
visited.”

“She’s a good choice, but I think you’re more like Arwen, an elf from
The Lord of the Rings
. In those movies, she’s a brave, fearless warrior who would do anything for her true love. I always felt that Galadriel had a dark side that gave me the creeps, made me uncomfortable.” He picked up the laptop, checked the charge on the battery, then took it to the desk where he plugged it in and turned it on.

“Then I must watch
The Lord of the Rings
next.”

Jerry laughed, kindly. “There are two more movies within
The Hobbit
trilogy, which adds up to about six more hours of viewing because I’m a fool for owning only the extended director’s cuts.
The Lord of the Rings
trilogy runs a little over nine hours, too, so you may need to take a break in there somewhere. Even
I
couldn’t watch them all straight through, from beginning to end, in one sitting. I’ve tried a couple times.”

“Eighteen hours, for
two
stories? Oh my.”

“Two stories that are really just one story, split into two, with a fifty or sixty year gap in the middle, and a different hero for each part.”

She sighed. “This could take quite some time.”

“True enough, but it would take you longer to read the books.”

“There are
books
for these films? They must be as long as
War and Peace
. It is a good thing they never made a film of
War and Peace
—it would go on for
days
.”

“They did, quite a few times. There was a mini-series that ran something like fifteen or twenty hours that we had to watch in History class. I slept through most of it.” He logged onto one of the discount-travel-booking websites, quickly realized that he would need his credit card.

“That is
quite
understandable. It was required reading for us as well, and I remember falling asleep numerous times, struggling with Tolstoy’s lumbering prose.” She watched Jerry sit, then get up for his wallet, and then sit back down again at the computer. “What are you doing, Love?”

“Booking the flights and hotel for Mom, Carole, and Jean-Marc. I know my mother is old-fashioned, but I hope she can deal with Carole and Jean-Marc sharing a room.”

“I am certain she will be fine with it, but if she is not, from what I observed of your sister, Carole will convince your mother otherwise.” She turned back to the fifty-inch screen. “Will it distract you if I continue to watch the movie?”

“No. Go ahead. This will only take a few minutes but I just need to pay attention to what I’m doing.”

“Thank you.” She restarted the movie and Jerry returned to the task at hand. He cringed when the final total for the tickets came up, but it was important, and it wasn’t like he had anything else to do with his money. Then Ana giggled at something on the screen and he remembered that he still needed to provide for her in some way. At least he assumed he’d have to. He had no idea if her being “awake” was linked to him or whether she was independent now and whether he lived or died made no difference to what happened to her. The idea that the two of them could both be bound to the book and spend eternity exploring the world had a certain bizarre appeal.

Once the airline tickets and hotel rooms were booked, he forwarded the email confirmations to all three of Jean-Marc, Carole, and his mother, then printed off a copy for backup. The streets of Victoria were still being pounded by the rain, so he abandoned the hope of a walk and returned to the couch.

THEY MANAGED TO
make it to the end of
An Unexpected Journey
, but Jerry could see that Ana was starting to flicker and fade, and he was doing his own living version of the same, so before she could even suggest watching the second movie he shut off the Blu-Ray player and the screen. “We’re both done in, Sweetie, so let’s call it a night. We can pick this up tomorrow after we’ve both recharged our batteries.”

She flopped her head on his shoulder. “You are a very smart man, Jeremy Powell. I think that is the most excellent suggestion I have heard all day. As a matter of fact—” She faded so quickly that they were both caught off-guard. Her clothes collapsed into a pile on the couch. Jerry picked her things up, confirmed that the book was in the hoodie’s pouch, then took everything and placed it on the bed. After a moment he changed his mind and draped them over the divider screen before shuffling off to the bathroom.

THERE WAS A
window open somewhere. Jerry could smell the ozone and dampness, and feel the chill. There was smoke, too. At this rate he’d freeze to death before the cancer killed him.

“For crying out loud, can’t a man get some goddamned sleep without some moron setting the place on fire and trying to freeze him out?!” He dragged his ass out of bed, grabbed his robe, and charged straight to the window on the far side of the loft, overlooking the street. He slammed it shut and spun around to confront Ana. His head throbbed and the sudden motion made him want to puke. Though everything was a blur, he could make out someone sitting on the couch, watching him. He wanted to tell them to stop being an idiot, but suddenly he was more interested in keeping his belly still and stopping the pounding in his head. He flopped in the nearest chair.

“Enough of the pain already. Just let me die in goddamned peace.”

“Gladly, but not until you give me Anastasia’s book.” It was a man’s voice. One Jerry thought he recognized. “Once you do that, I’ll even help you along to whatever afterlife you wish. Heaven, Valhalla, Fields of Auru . . . whatever.”

Jerry squinted but could only make out thick dark hair and a goatee. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my home?”

“Give me Anastasia’s book, and you won’t need to worry about who I am.” There was a metal-on-metal sound like gears, or like
the hammer of a revolver being cocked
.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. If you want a book, go to the damned library, but leave your gun at home.”

“You’re being a smart ass, facing down the barrel of a .38 Special? I mistook you for a much smarter man, Jerry.”

“Nervous reaction. Sorry.” Was he dreaming? Where was Ana and why was this killer sitting on his couch wanting her book? “What’s so important about this book that you break into my house and point a gun at me?” His eyes were starting to focus, but his headache was tearing him a new lobe, so there was no way he was going to put up any kind of fight. His only hope was to play dumb, which wasn’t much of a stretch right now.

“Where is goddamned the book, Powell? And where is your little dance partner?”

Oh shit. “She’s out. Getting groceries.”

“Good. But if I’m not out of here with that book in my hand before she comes back, the first bullet is for her.”

“Is this what you want, Bolshevik pig?”

Both men turned at the sound of Ana’s voice. She was calmly holding the book in front of her, sidestepping towards Jerry.

“Give it to me and you both live.” He pointed the revolver at Ana’s chest.

Whatever reply he was expecting to his threat, he probably wasn’t expecting both Jerry and Ana to break out laughing.

“Get lost, asshole. You can go ahead and shoot, but you’re not getting the book,
Professor
.” He now recognized the university prof from New Year’s Eve. “It’s not mine to give and it sure as hell isn’t yours to take.”

“I know why he wants it, Jerry. And I know who he is.” Ana stood next to Jerry’s chair, tall and angry.

“He’s that professor from the Empress—the fancy ballroom dancer.”

“No, he’s a Bolshevik bastard.” Ana took a step toward Gervaise, ignoring the threat of the gun.

The gun lifted to point at her head. “What makes you think I’m a Bolshevik, little girl?”

“Because I know that face. When we first met, I thought you looked familiar and I told Jerry so, but now that I see your eyes in better light and hear your voice without the music playing, I know you, Yakov Yurovsky.”

“How—?! My name is Jakob Gervaise.
Professor
Jakob Gervaise.”

“Maybe so, but you are also the direct descendant of Bolshevik assassin, Yakov Yurovsky.”

Jerry was confused as hell, but he kept quiet. He was nowhere near his phone to call 9-1-1 and there was no way he could reach the fireplace tools to use as a weapon before he got shot. He didn’t care if he died, he just didn’t want this asshole to get Ana’s book, and therefore, Ana.

The gun in Gervaise’s hand shook. “How could you know that,
shlyukha
?”

“You call me a whore?
Vy ne chto inoye, kak sobaki , kotoryye ne mogut lizat’ svoi yaichki
.” Gervaise’s eyes went wide and Ana smiled. “Yes, a dog who cannot lick his own testicles. I know you, son of Yurovsky, as I knew that Bolshevik dog himself.”

“Impossible.”

“Possible. Very possible. After his men shot me and stabbed me with their bayonets, I still would not die. The jewels sewn within my garments had protected me, kept me alive long enough to watch my entire family butchered by your kin. I looked him straight in the eye and he shot me in the head.” She tapped her forehead with a fingertip and the bullet hole appeared.

Gervaise scrambled to his feet. He still had the weapon, but Jerry was pretty sure he was no longer in control of the situation. “You are insane!
Sumasshedshiy
!”

“Perhaps I
am
crazy, but I am still Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova!” Suddenly Ana was her old self, the young girl Jerry first met, complete with all of the bullet holes, bayonet piercings, and blood.

Six gunshots and a pair of empty-chamber clicks shattered the relative quiet of the loft. Acrid gun smoke filled the air and Jerry gagged. He pulled himself up out the chair, needlessly worried for Ana’s safety, but she still stood tall and unharmed. Of course, he thought. What could bullets do to her that they hadn’t already done?

Gervaise threw the gun and Jerry ducked just in time. The weapon slammed into the wall behind him with a thud and fell to the floor. Jerry didn’t think he could take the older man in a fight, but it suddenly became very apparent that he wasn’t going to have to. Without moving from where she stood, Ana stretched her arm out, grabbed the man by the throat, and picked him up. She looked over her shoulder at Jerry.