Chapter Text
With an uneasy heart, Anna finished packing her belongings into the leather suitcase and clasped it shut. The fateful moment had arrived. She would make the journey to Mister Morozov's house and stay there for good, only coming home for holidays and emergencies. That was, if she even survived long enough to resign on her own terms. She'd heard enough old tales to know Mister Morozov might grow impatient and drain her completely of blood, thus eliminating any chance of exacting her revenge.
Her only comfort was the fact that Katya had spent three years in the man's employ without meeting any harm. She inhaled, appreciating the air that she was still able to breathe. Then, she stood up and trudged into the next room to bid her family farewell.
Uncle Zhenya remained as stoic as ever, though Anna could see traces of her kindly father in his countenance. Next to him, her aunt sniffed and wiped at both eyes, and as for Kolya, he seemed oddly detached from the whole affair.
"Well, I shall be going now," Anna said in as bright a tone as she could muster while fellow residents Vanya and Gleb stared incredulously from the dinner table. "May we meet again at Easter. I'll miss you every day."
She made for the door, only to notice her aunt nudging Kolya on the shoulder and whispering into his ear. His gangly body jerked upright as if he had woken up from a trance. "Sure. I'll go with her tonight."
"That's a good boy. I'll reward you with extra servings of bread and potatoes tomorrow."
Kolya simply shrugged and joined Anna's side. He brushed messy curls away from his forehead. "Let's go, cousin."
Anna smiled. She walked out of their living quarters with him in tow, feeling grateful that she wouldn't have to brave the journey alone anymore.
"Ma hasn't told me much about where you're going and who you'll be working for," Kolya admitted as they left their dingy communal apartment behind. "What sort of people are they? Can they be trusted?"
It amused Anna that Kolya could be so simple in the presence of his parents, yet so eloquent around his peers. "It's just one man," she replied. "His name is Mister Morozov, and he's..." Her voice trailed off as she tried to think of a way to describe him that wouldn't arouse suspicion.
"Yes?"
"He's young, but wealthy," she finally said. "He wouldn't afford such a nice house if he was poor."
"Hm, I can't wait to see it." Kolya began to outpace her, prompting Anna to move her feet faster in the hope of catching up. Gone were the days when she'd outrun him effortlessly, and it filled her with dismay to think that the gulf between them would only widen as they grew older.
"Kolya, slow down," Anna implored, feeling the suitcase weigh her arm down. She let it swing in his direction. "Carry this for me, please."
He stopped and took it from her while rolling his eyes. "Weakling. You're not the one who has to work ten hours a day, six days a week."
Anna glared at him. "Do you know what you're talking about? Being a maid is hard too. I've seen other girls with raw and chapped hands."
"Right..." Kolya swallowed. "I take back what I said. It's good that you're finally pulling your weight in this family."
"Exactly."
They walked in silence for a long time afterwards. The sun slowly set on the poor borough they lived in, though it did nothing to deter the local vagrants and drunks from loitering around.
"I wouldn't want to end up like them," Kolya remarked.
"Neither do I." Anna's heart thumped as the issue of her safety weighed on her mind again. She turned to her cousin. "May I ask you something?"
"What is it?"
"How would you feel if something terrible happened to me?"
Kolya stared at her. "I don't know. It would depend on what the thing is."
Anna immediately regretted asking such an ominous question, so she tried to deflect his attention away from the matter. "Never mind. Forget I said that. My imagination has been strange lately."
"Well, don't do it again. You had me scared there."
Igor helped himself to some tea and pored over the latest issue of the Saint Petersburg Gazette after Katya had gone to bed.
The stories proved especially riveting this week. The Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna was believed to be with child for the fourth time, and there was much speculation about whether she would finally give birth to a son; over in Great Britain, the venerable Queen Victoria had passed away after an impressive sixty-four years on the throne; the once-great Asiatic nation of China was being torn apart not only from within, but also externally by a multitude of foreign powers; and the kingdom of Prussia was in the midst of celebrating its bicentenary.
"What a world," Igor declared as he put down the newspaper to allow his mind and eyes some rest. "This surely portends a momentous era."
He left his armchair to pace around the room and tend to the fireplace. Just like in centuries past, he would try to rise to the challenges of a new world, not because he enjoyed it, but because he had no other choice.
If it was any consolation, taking on a mortal companion once in a while helped to keep him grounded and see things from a fresh perspective.
The only disadvantage was that they aged and died much too quickly. The little girl Anya was one such pertinent example. It seemed like he had turned away for only a few moments, then looked back to find that she had been replaced by a blossoming young woman.
If he wasn't careful, she would turn into a world-weary crone before he knew it. Thus, he would need to act fast if he was to convert her into a vampire and achieve his risky goals.
A strained smile came to Igor's face as he remembered one of his more disastrous attempts at such a thing. During the reign of Ivan the Terrible, he'd abducted a beautiful young noblewoman named Xenia with the intention of making her his bride, only to realize afterwards that he'd failed to consider her own feelings in the matter.
The horror of her vampiric state had driven Xenia into a state of lunacy, and she'd run off to hide out in Scandinavia, only regaining enough sanity to reconnect with him a hundred years later. They had since reached an agreement to avoid interfering in each other's business, which meant that Igor was to stay away from Moscow, the city Xenia had chosen as her designated territory.
Igor pushed the burning logs further into the fire before he heard a knock on the door. He placed the poker aside and went to answer. As expected, he found Anya waiting outside with a suitcase in hand, and she stared at him with those clear blue eyes that belied the suffering in her soul.
"I have my things ready, Mister Morozov," she informed him, her placid expression unchanging. "May I come in?"
"Yes. Be my guest."
She stepped past the threshold and changed into the leather boots he'd provided her with two days prior. A movement outside caught his eye, and he craned his neck to see a boy with curly brown hair loitering by the road a few yards away.
"Who is that?"
"My cousin Nikolai," Anya replied, picking up her suitcase again. "He wanted to accompany me and make sure I was alright."
"I see. It's nice that you still have family that cares for you."
She nodded and made her way up the stairs to begin her new life as his maidservant. Igor sighed and gave the boy on the street a wave, then closed the door so he could come to terms with the gravity of his plan.
My friend, or my killer. Which one will you be, Anna Vasilyeva?
Anna took a cautious sip of the tea that Igor had made and was surprised to find the flavor more prominent this time around. There were hints of something fruity, though she couldn't discern what it was.
"Enjoying yourself?" Igor asked as he sat in the chair opposite her. The light of the fireplace adorned his face with an orange glow that contrasted against the shadows and made him appear a little sinister. "I brewed the leaves for longer this time, then added some lemon juice."
"Oh." Anna sought to push aside her apprehension by gazing at the plate of golden-brown bread rings in front of her. "May I have one?"
"Of course."
Anna grabbed one and took a bite, causing crumbs to scatter in her mouth. "Goodness. It's so dry."
Igor frowned, clearly unamused by her lack of social grace. "You're supposed to dip it in the tea."
Anna resigned herself to doing as advised, then wiped her face with a napkin in the hope it would make up for her mistake. Afterwards, she focused on Igor again and cleared her throat, knowing there was no delaying the inevitable. "So, are you going to turn me into a vampire tonight?"
His expression remained one of disappointment. "I'm afraid not. You still have much to learn."
"I beg your pardon?"
Igor swept his hand through his hair with a groan. "It was once the case that anyone could become a vampire, and this caused much disorder. So, the Continental Council passed a law which dictated specific attributes one must possess before being turned."
Anna blinked, unable to make sense of the convoluted words. "What? Conversion Council? Distribute?"
Igor rubbed at his forehead as if suffering from a headache. "As I was saying, the Continental Council holds a lot of authority these days. They comprise a few of the oldest and most influential vampires in Europe." He paused to take a deep breath. "Barring me, of course."
"Wait." Anna overcame her confusion enough to question this new piece of information. "Why would they do such a thing? Are we not part of Europe?"
"Not by their measure. The current members of the Council hail from Austria-Hungary, France, Great Britain, Italy, and Spain. Even if they were to cast aside their view of us as barbarians, there would still be the problem of distance. You would not believe how formidable a task it is to travel to Paris or Rome in winter."
"Then why bother with them?"
"Because their respect is important to me. You don't know the benefit of having powerful allies." Igor glanced aside. "If I can make them bend to my needs even a little, I shall consider it a victory. That is where you will play your part. To become a vampire, one must be beautiful, educated, and preferably wealthy. As of now, you only fulfil one of those traits, but it shouldn't take more than two years to overcome the hurdle of education."
Anna furrowed her brows. "Are you calling me stupid?"
"No." Igor raised his cup and took a gulp. "You wouldn't be alive today if that were the case. You just need the knowledge that the rich take for granted."
"And what would that be?"
"Can you speak, read, and write in French?"
Anna thought of the lackluster education she had received as a child and shook her head in dismay. "I can't even read and write well in Russian."
"No matter." Igor gave her a half-hearted smile. "We must all start somewhere, and I was once a slow-witted brute too."
Anna chuckled in unease. "So, if by some miracle, I become as smart as a noble lady, and they let you turn me into a vampire, what will happen next?"
Igor's smile faded and his eyes filled with what appeared to be sadness or sorrow. "I will provide you with a silver dagger, and you shall use your newfound strength to cut off my head. Then, you must place my head between my legs and burn my body until nothing is left."
He exhaled, and Anna felt her blood grow cold.
"Only by this method will I pass on and be free at last."
Anna trembled, finding it difficult to believe what Igor was asking of her. When she had stewed in thoughts of revenge the previous day, she had considered simple methods like stabbing him in the heart or suffocating him with a pillow.
In contrast, beheading him, placing his head between his legs, and then setting him on fire seemed almost pointlessly cruel, and Anna wasn't sure if she had the conviction to see it through. So, she tried to steel herself by recalling how when she was five years old, her father Vasya had grabbed an old hen by the feet and despite its flapping wings and frantic clucks, managed to pin it against an upright log before slicing its throat.
Surely, if her father had been able to kill such a volatile creature for food, it would be no trouble for her to do the same to someone who had expressed a willingness to die. She looked up at Igor and imagined his head falling to the floor while blood sprayed from his body, as tended to happen with freshly slaughtered animals.
"I see," she said with a nod. "When the time comes, I'll think of you as a giant chicken instead of a man. It should be easier that way."
Igor's mouth dropped open a little. "That is odd, but I'll accept it..." He raised his cup and downed the rest of his tea in a single gulp, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand like some peasant. "Granted, I once adopted a similar way of thinking to perform my obligation as seamlessly as I could."
Anna's morbid curiosity was piqued, and she leaned forward. "What sort of obligation, may I ask?"
"I was an executioner during my old life," Igor remarked matter-of-factly as his blue eyes took on an icy quality. "I may have lived outside the bounds of Kievan Rus, but there were still plenty of criminals to be dealt with. I would think of them as merely logs to be split in two."
"Oh." Anna reached for her neck, which thankfully, was still intact for now. "You don't think of me as a log, do you?"
"No. It's hard to see a person that way after you have spent a day with them and learnt their story."
Anna swallowed. She felt a desire to change the subject and hastily recalled a previous exchange with Katya. "Why would you want to die, though? You have this nice house, you're handsome, and you must make a good living as a doctor. I bet a lot of women dream of marrying you."
"I have lived for so long that it's become tiresome." Igor hunched his back with a sigh. "And I seldom have any interest in romance these days."
"I suppose." Anna observed his weary stance and felt tiredness begin to come over her as well. She rose to her feet with some difficulty. "I should probably go to bed now. You won't bother me, will you?"
"Of course not." Igor waved his hand at her without looking. "You deserve a decent rest after everything I've told you."
Anna reached the door, then found it in herself to glance back at her employer. "Well, good night, Mister Morozov."
"Good night, Anna."