Rasputina and the Witch's Tsar

Chapter Seven

"Go to the bartender and order a drink." I bow my head low to Kaskil's, nodding to the sour-looking man minding the drinks.

"Why, do you think he knows something?"

I pat Kaskil sympathetically on the shoulder. "No, but you look like you could use one."

Kaskil rolls his eyes at me, but he stops when I hand him more than enough money for a meal and then some. "I always take care of family, Kas. You're my family here, for better or worse." I fold his fingers over the coins that the tsar slipped me for healing Alexei, keeping them from slipping from his grasp. I lean closer, increasing the pressure. "My enemies get taken care of too, but in the way that has them praying to meet Satan faster. Understand?"

He nods, staring at me with something unfathomable in his eyes. No, not unfathomable. I can taste the fear on my lips, red and sweet. "Yes, I understand."

"Good, now run along." I forget Kaskil and my dire remarks instantly. I've spied a perfect young man across the way. He has scarlet hair and wears a shirt that slips down his shoulders, revealing a toned physique. He has to work at the brothel. His body hair is too neatly groomed to be a farmer, but his clothes are too worn to be a dandy either. I beckon to him and he trots over with a smile.

"Not many young ones like you to visit me." He yawns, stretching his arms over his head. I look at the rift between his waistband and shirt hem, thanking God for this angel's poor, horrid tailor. "I usually just get old biddies and husbands whose wives are lost at some war or other. Wait, husbands and wives... or was it the other way around?" He grins, taking my hand with a practiced kiss. "My name is Misha."

I smile, tugging a free chair behind his knees. He falls into the chair, allowing me to pull the chair so close that he tips into my lap. "You ever get any palace workers, Misha?"

He settles with one arm around my neck, waiting before he takes the bait. "Do I know you?" He squints at my features. My bath must have removed all traces of cloven hooves and devil's horns from me.

"Not yet, but you will." I take one of his red curls, tugging it around my finger. "You see that man at the bar?"

Misha nods. "The dour one drinking beer like there's poison in his cup?"

"Exactly." I slap his shoulder, feeling the strong muscle beneath. "Well, little Misha. If you hear of any rumors that concern palace folk, or regular folk, or a certain Rasputina," I point back to Kas, slyly slipping Misha some money in his waistband. "I want you to inform Kaskil first. Understand?"

I stare into his eyes, not breaking eye contact. He stares back, lost in my gaze. I etch symbols into his skin with my fingernails, feeling how he shudders at the contact. I murmur prayers and orders as I kiss him. I stare with all the power left within me, feeling it exit my body and leave him trembling at its raw energy.

"Yes, I understand, my lady." He looks away, suddenly abashed.

"Good." I pull his face in my hands, soothing his furrowed brow with a light touch. "Come then and give me a kiss."