When Night Falls

part iii| xxvi

"ARE YOU THE ONLY Collector?" Anitchka's voice is sharp as she throws the doors open, taking in the Count's simple appearance. He has his usual coat discarded, traded for a light cotton shirt that barely frames his outline. "Um, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

He cards a hand through his hair, offering a soft smile. "It's alright. I was actually waiting for you, Anna."

There is that little flutter in her chest again, warm and welcome. "I just wanted to know whether there can be more than one Collector."

The Count holds a cushioned chair for her, snapping his fingers at the fireplace. She heads towards him, pulling the curtains and shielding them away from the rest of the world. When she sits down finally, he tugs her chair close, and a faint tint dusts her face in response. "I've never heard of it."

Resignation curls through Anitchka. "It seems impossible. And the way you talked about everything before, I was under the impression that Collectors replace each other. That there could be a new one only if the previous one died." She finds him leaning his elbows against his knees, leaning in to listen. "Now you think I'm delusional."

She is unprepared for his small touch on her head, slipping and threading through her hair. "I have always hated how you think so lowly of yourself." The Count retrieves his hand, his words quieter. "You're doing more for me than I could ever ask for or deserve."

"Can you do something for me, then?"

"What is it?" His brows dip, tone hoarse.

"Stop believing that you don't deserve things." Clearing her throat, she rubs her arms. "Nobody knows the Tsar's name."

The Count sits straight abruptly, as though discovering something he had missed to notice. "I don't know it either."

"When Dmitri and I went to the palace, there were portraits of the previous Tsars; all of them the same. Of course, we know why. He has kept these paintings in the halls where anyone can see them. There are some changes, yes, but one can tell that they are of the same person, Count." Her voice shakes. "What if the reason he can walk between the two lands isn't because he is supposed to be dead? What if he is a Collector? The day I met him first, we weren't visible, but he saw us. He saw me. He knew exactly when and where to be? That's unlikely."

The more she says it out loud, the more it makes sense. "This mansion and the palace look alike. I thought you had built it as a replica. What if it's the other way around?" Anitchka pauses to take a deep breath. "As far as I know, the use of glass amongst the elite predates royal patronage for self-portraits."

In the meantime, his attention is rapt, and silence percolates from his end. "We'll have to be sure. I just can't imagine another Collector present in the same timeline."

"Neither can I. We must call for Spring, Dmitri, Olga, and Helga." She presses her forehead, exhausted, "Perhaps the kikimora too."

"Did anything else happen at the palace?"

Anitchka shuts her eyes, tiredness overwhelming her. "No. I told the Tsar that a creature in the woods might have your name."

He raises a questioning brow. "He trusted that you were speaking the truth?"

"I cannot lie," she mutters, grinning at the notion, "is what he thinks."

The Count appears wary, and it gnaws at her. She understands his inhibitions, so she reduces the gap between them. "You're worried."

His expression shifts. "For you." Slowly, he gets up to walk outside the doors, and she vaguely hears him call for Dmitri. From the corner of her eye, she sees Dmitri's bat-like figure once more. It is relieving to have him don his true form, and she wonders when she'll see the Count's. He speaks in hushed tones, but she knows that he is summoning the goblins and Spring. Anitchka lifts the curtains in the slightest, fingertips glazing the cold as ice window. Thin sheets of frost dress the surface, the land of the dead appearing skewed under its layers.

Then, she waits. 

a/n: i feel as though i've become so comfortable with staying in through the pandemic that i'm worried about the normalcy we've known.