When Night Falls

part ii | chapter xv

SOMEWHERE IN A LAND BRIMMING with lost things and dead bones, a girl finds herself reaching into the memory of quiet nights and a voice in the dark. One that must have belonged to the man walking through a mansion that is built from the shadow of the Tsar's palace. Anitchka tries to remember when she left her kingdom, and whether he had ever knocked on her door.

Most of all, she has to recall the man before the Collector.

She spends her days dining with him, and as soon as the nights settle, she steps into a coach that slides through the ice to find deals and steal things. The Count hasn't spoken of what transpired between them when he admitted to knowing her. He has muttered a lone whisper in her ear for her to recognise him. That is where it ends. Anitchka uses silver pins to clip her hair to her sides, allowing herself brief moments of vanity. She has noticed that her fingers bleed gold when she desires, and not upon any accidental touch. It tugs faint satisfaction through her. She had thought that she would die as her mother had, somewhere in the snow with nothing in her hands, and a debt on her shoulders.

Anitchka carries it now, yet it feels anything but that. She almost begins to dread the kingdom where the scent of death follows the living more than it lingers on the dead that wander here.

"Your hair looks lovely, Anna," the Count compliments as she saunters into the dining hall. "Apt for where we are going tonight."

"Where would that be?" Anitchka asks, sitting herself down, and stabbing a fork through the feast laid on the table. She plucks bits of the cake and leaves it under her chair for the creatures of the mansion. He smiles at the action, teeth peeking to reveal an ocean of whites.

It is as dreadful as it is beautiful. "A place you used to call home."

The fork and knife in her hands clutter, ringing against the plate before they drop to the floor. It has been a while. She finds him grinning, and Anitchka wonders whether he truly wants her to relive a time that has forgotten her. "Why?"

"Did you not wish to see your house at the edge?" The Count inquires, reaching under her chair to pick the fallen cutlery. "Here."

"What makes you think that?" Anitchka asks, accepting them from him. She holds her breath, finding it difficult to find air under his scrutiny. Perhaps he has always worn the cloak of a winterthat does not end, and a death that refuses to come.

His eyes bore through her, shedding every inch of her being. "Isn't that why you followed me through the tunnel?"

"No, I just wanted to know why you didn't take me with you." She finds her voice wavering suddenly. "I didn't want to be alone. I wanted to accompany you."

As he pulls his chair closer, she wonders what he looked like when she knew him, without the face of the Count concealing his features. "I understand. And, Anna, I have become as accustomed to you as you have to me."

"How were we before?" Anitchka whispers, adding quietly. "Don't disappear on me."

"I won't," he says, expression serious, or as much as it can be from a demon playing deals in the palm of his hands, "I promised you that I wouldn't leave you alone."

She smiles mirthlessly. "But you don't keep your promises, Count."

They break apart abruptly, and look away when Olga enters with a plate of food in her hands. The goblin raps her knuckles against her bone mask, retracing her steps back. "Sorry, Master, I didn't know that you were busy."

The Count straightens his coat, running his fingers over the material to smoothen it, but Anitchka senses his sudden discomfort. "No, you weren't interrupting anything."

"Mistress," Olga says, tipping her head, "Is there something I can do to repay you for saving Dmitri, Helga, and I?"

Anitchka rubs her stub of a finger; a habit she has picked when she is nervous. It was her fault that they had ended up in the In Between. The creatures feeling indebted to her is odd, but then she remembers that their lifespans are choked with deals upon deals. There is always a price. "Well, you three can accompany me to my house in the land of the living."

She sees the Count's head snap towards her, brows raised. His demeanour has shifted, and if it wasn't for the face he is wearing, she would have imagined him to be a different person entirely. And that is how she will remember him. She will steal the pieces of his persona that he refuses to reveal, and she will find who he was before. "Will you tell Helga and Dmitri that we will be making the journey tonight?"

Olga nods, placing the tray on the table. "Of course."

As the goblin girl exits, she turns to the wintry demon once more, finding him leaning forward with his hands clasped under his chin. "You're inviting them too?"

"Why, Count, were you hoping we'd be alone?"

"Oh, Anna," he says, eyes glinting under the shadows that surround them, "I was."

a/n: had to divide this chapter because it would become way too long. also, turns out my update schedule consists of listening to my online classes and writing on the side. and surprisingly, it works? i'm more consistent when statistics and media theories play in the background than the music of my choice...