The Boys at the Top of the World

Chapter 12: Buried Together

— later that night —

Later that night, Andrei went to the downstairs sitting room, because he had no interest in sleeping in Mikhail's bed at present. He lay on the sofa under the windows, and in the twilight, Mikhail came home and found him. Mikhail was still wearing his long coat, and his nose was taped up, and there was red bruising under his eyes.

"In his last moments, my father had to see me coated in blood," said Mikhail. "Because of you."

Andrei did not get up from the sofa. "The maids told me that your father's heart was still before he hit the floor. So in his last moments your father saw nothing of you, because you were upstairs with a cheap whore."

Mikhail was silent and motionless for a long moment. Both of them stewed in the bruised post-spat air, and both pondered the idea that Mikhail's father, who had seemed nigh-immortal, was now lying cold in a hospital morgue.

Finally Mikhail said, "Wrong. I paid Miss Turner very handsomely for her efforts."

Andrei held up Mikhail's sunglasses, with the lens popped back in. "I fixed your sunglasses."

Mikhail accepted the sunglasses and slipped them on, and Andrei knew that he was grateful for the chance to obscure his eyes, and with them, any hint of emotion or weakness. "If you need help with the paperwork and arrangements, I can help you go through it," said Andrei. "I've figured out a few things since - since my own father died."

Mikhail groaned and slumped on top of Andrei, who released his own soft moan - he was still sore, after all, and Mikhail was heavy. "Thank you, Andryusha, but I think my father's affairs are going to be a bit more complicated than the things a peasant would leave behind. I'm the godfather now, you know."

Andrei knew. He also knew that their lives were entangled, so that the ascension of Mikhail meant his own ascension. Here on this gilded couch were Mikhail and Andrei, the two men at the lonely top of the world. Andrei would be the second-in-command of the great beast called the mafia, and this was why he held tightly to Mikhail. "I'm frightened, Misha," Andrei whispered. "I don't know how to rule anything."

Mikhail lifted his head and looked quizzically at Andrei. "What cause is there for being frightened, Andryusha? I'll be by your side the whole time. Brother bears, remember?"

"Well, what if...what if you can't rule anymore? Then will I be the godfather?"

"Are you already plotting to off me?" Mikhail chuckled. "No, you needn't worry about such things. If I die first, which I won't, I'll simply have you buried alongside me, whether you're dead yourself or not. Kirill will take care of the details. We'll be together in the afterlife, if nothing else."

Andrei felt some relief at this, though he knew he shouldn't. Still, there was something nice in the idea of Mikhail's dead man's switch, and something comforting in the idea of sleeping alongside Mikhail in the soft dark earth. He hoped that they would be locked into the same coffin, so that he might sink into Mikhail's bloated body as he waited for his own end in the dark. "You believe in the afterlife, Misha?"

"Of course. Not God. I've never had any use for him. But surely we don't get simply snuffed out at the end of our lives, not when we burn so much brighter than candles." This was typical Mikhail, thought Andrei, never comprehending his own humanity. Perhaps there was none to comprehend. Still, Master Mikhail made a compelling argument. Andrei believed in God himself, but only because he had looked into the luminous face of Mikhail Makarovich. If Andrei was human, then Mikhail must be a god. If Mikhail was a human, then Andrei must be a filthy dog.

But it was rather too late for theology. Tomorrow there would be time to be hailed in the hallways and to plan a lavish funeral. For now it was enough to know that Mikhail was his lifeboat in the dark. For now it was enough to feel the familiar weight of Mikhail's head on his chest, and to stroke his fine moonlit hair.

***

In the morning they met with Kirill to begin to take care of business. Mikhail sat at his father's desk, presiding over his father's ornate office, and Andrei stood at attention beside him.

"Master Mikhail," began Kirill, "there are a few problems to solve as you take the throne, so to speak. I apologize, as this information may come as a bit of a shock, but your father sired a number of illegitimate offspring. Most of them are young children, and few of them are aware of their heritage, but they may eventually threaten your empire. Unfortunately, your father's will as it stood at his death was rather ambiguous."

Mikhail furrowed his brow. "Illegitimate children? Impossible. I'm my father's only child. He never loved another woman after my mother, he told me as much."

"Sir, I'm afraid we have quite good evidence that-"

Mikhail held up a hand, and Kirill fell silent. "Andrei will take care of them. Won't you, Andrei?"

"Of course," said Kirill. "Andrei, I'll give you the files on the children posthaste. Some of them may be known to you."

Mikhail sniffed. "I don't care who they are, as long as Andrei's not one of them. And maybe not even then. Just get rid of them. It shouldn't need so much discussion."

Kirill continued as if he had not heard Mikhail. "The oldest one is a girl called Emily Turner. I think we'd better deal with her first, as she lives not far from here, and she's not much younger than Mikhail. It appears that she actually attended Mikhail's school until losing her scholarship."

Mikhail and Andrei shared a startled glance. Thank goodness you never had any interest in sleeping with girls, Misha. Thank goodness neither of us did, for that matter. You didn't do anything with her, right? Right?!

"Young children?" said Andrei hesitantly. "Misha, I don't know..." He could not bring himself to finish the sentence. In his chest, the last twinges of his compassion reared their heads. Killing his sisters had been one thing, but killing blameless infants seemed quite another.

Mikhail fiddled with his sunglasses. "Hm. Didn't you say that I should look into settling down with a bride and start generating some heirs of my own, Kirill? Maybe I'll take a trained assassin as a bride. She can carry out my orders if Andryusha can't. Though I must say, I'm rather surprised at your reluctance, Andryusha. Do you think that the sanctity of the Misalov family is not a good enough reason to kill?"

At this, jealousy grew spines in Andrei's chest. Besides, he could not admit to himself that killing at Mikhail's command could be anything like a mistake. "No. I'll do it."

And Andrei went off into the world to do his master's bidding.