The Secrets of Darkling Manor

Five: Alina Starkov

Five

She didn't remember the wedding. She didn't remember the proposal. She did remember the job interview, and him being a jerk. She supposed relationships had been started on less. He was beautiful, he couldn't deny that. There were worse things than waking up to Aleksander Morozova and his handsome face. But the only thing she remembered was walking along a roadside, and a black Porsche hitting her as she did. She remembered pain. She remembered waiting at a train station.

But she didn't remember what was supposed to be the most romantic day of her whole life. Or the man that had made it that way. She didn't remember anything about Aleksander Morozova except him driving her crazy that one day at the job interview. Shouldn't she remember someone that important to her? He was her husband. Her whole future. And yet it seemed off. Strange.

Alina's belongings weren't even in his room. And she couldn't find her cell phone. She got up from the bed, and carefully went to the room across the way that she'd been in. To her surprise, she found her cell phone on the nightstand. Her jacket on the chair of the desk in there. And, strangely, her suitcases. If she was married to Aleksander, what were her things doing in a separate room? It didn't make sense. But her phone was what she really wanted, so she grabbed it from the nightstand.

It had lost its power since it hadn't been charged during her time unconscious. Alina rummaged through her bags and grabbed her charger, then went back to Aleksander's room to go charge it. As she did, she saw a young girl with red hair and silver eyes running towards her.

"You got married!" the girl squealed. "I thought you liked him. Oh, this is so perfect. You know, they were trying to make me go live with my other uncle. Because he's married and has kids. But I'd much rather live here with Uncle Aleks. And you."

Alina frowned. "We---know each other?"

The girl looked up at her. "Oh, that's right. Uncle warned me that your memory might be a bit foggy. I'm Genya. Aleksander is my guardian. He was a friend of my parents, and he's watching over me since the...well..."

"What?"

"Accident," Genya said, "there was a plane crash, you see. And they both died. Aleks was my father's best friend and business partner. They started Morozova inc. together. But my uncle thinks that he should be my guardian because he doesn't think it's appropriate for a young girl to be alone with him. But you're married now, and I won't have to be sent away. It's so romantic!"

"Yes," said Alina, "it's very romantic. What did you say your name was?"

"I'm Genya," she said, "Genya Safin. My father invented the apps that Uncle sells. It's made him---well. It made him very rich. He was quite happy about everything before. He told me we were going to live in a mansion in Paris, and that I was going to have a French poodle but.... of course that can't happen now."

Alina frowned, and squeezed the young girl's shoulder gently. "When you grow up, you can always move to Paris, and buy your own French poodle if you wish."

Genya looked up at her. "Do you really think so?"

Alina smiled. "I really do think so. What's that you've got in your hand?"

"Oh, it's my book of fairytales," she said, "Uncle Aleks usually reads to me, but he's working on something at the moment. He said I should come find you and keep you company. Will you read to me? Do you like fairytales?"

Alina nodded. "I think everyone likes fairytales," she said, "of course, I'll read to you. Come on. But I am feeling a little whoozy, so you'll have to crawl into bed with me."

Genya nodded, and the two of them went back into Aleksander's room. The girls crawled into bed together, and Genya gave her the book of fairytales. Alina spent the afternoon reading to her, and by the time evening fell, there was a knock on the door. "Mrs. Morozova?" a voice said.

Alina flinched. That was her. What a strange thing. She was a 'Mrs.' Someone's wife. Not just anyone's wife. She was the wife of Aleksander Morozova, one of the richest men in all of England. Never in a million years would she have thought that a possible outcome for herself.

"Who is it?"

The door opened, and a grey haired woman with a long face stepped in. "I'm Baghra ma'am, the housekeeper. Mr. Morozova asked me to see if you were up to joining him for dinner or if he should come join you up here."

Alina hesitated. "You know, I'm still getting a bit woozy when I walk. If you could send him up here please, that would be lovely."

Baghra smiled. "Alright then, ma'am. I will. And might I say, best wishes on the wedding."

"Thank you," she said.

"And you little miss," said Baghra to Genya, "come along with me. Best to leave the newlyweds to their dinner. You've got your own dinner downstairs."

"It doesn't involve broccoli, does it?" Genya asked, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Yes, and if you want any of those lovely tarts cook has made, you will be a good girl and eat all of it."

"Tarts!" Genya exclaimed. "What kind?"

"Apple," she said, "just the way you like."

"Oh, I'll eat every last bite. Enjoy your dinner, Alina." The little girl kissed her on the cheek, then grabbed her book, and ran from the room to take Baghra's hand.

Baghra smiled. "I'll send your husband up directly, ma'am."

"Thank you," she said.

Baghra left, taking Genya and closing the door behind her. Once she was gone, Alina heard the distinct sound of something that sounded like a tapping coming through the walls. Tap, tap, tap. She stood up to look for it.

"Alina?" she heard Aleksander's voice call. "I've got supper."

The tapping stop. She shook her head. "Alright, come on in."

Aleksander came in. "What are you doing up? You shouldn't be standing. Baghra said you were still feeling dizzy."

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "I thought I heard something, and it startled me."

Aleksander grimaced. "Old houses, you know. Plenty of mice in them. Impossible to get out, no matter what you do."

Alina frowned. "I suppose so. Yes, that must be it. Now, what have we for dinner?"

"I didn't want to upset your stomach any if you were feeling dizzy, so some chicken and mashed potatoes, with a side of bread," he said, "and some champagne, to celebrate."

She smiled. "Well, I quite like the sound of that, Mr. Morozova."

"I do too," he said, "now, get back into bed. You don't need to be on your feet anymore than you do."

She did as told, and the two of them ate dinner, and chatted. And she forgot about the scratching sound. That was, until later that evening, she woke up to it. And saw a long, gnarled, blue finger with a long nail scratching her face.