Empress of Poisons ARC Page 3

  Even as the sun rose in the horizon, golden light carefully creeping through the gaps in the trees, the rain did not falter. Worms wriggled happily above the ground, which led to a few of them being caught by mother birds trying to feed their hungry chicks.

  A twig snapping echoed through the landscape, the sound disrupting the rain momentarily.

  I turned to the noise, my body readying itself to run and escape, but instead of a grievous monster waiting for me, Babushka stood. Her fur was matted and soaked, and blood coated her lips. When her beady eyes landed on me, she meowed loudly as if to say where the fuck have you been?

  “Hey, Babushka,” I greeted. I would never admit it out loud, but I was so goddamn happy to see that bloody cat.

  She slumped over to me, tail waving in agitation.

  Careful not to disturb Nikolai, I opened a packet of food we had brought for her. She happily ate the little pebbles out of my hand.

  “Why do you have blood on you?” I wondered and tried to rub her mouth, but she dodged out of the way, eyes narrowing. “Okay, okay. I won’t ask again.”

  When the rain stopped, I jostled Nikolai gently. His little eyelids fluttered, before he grudgingly woke up. He rubbed his eyes, face scowling, before blinking up at me in confusion. “Mama?”

  “I’m here, baby. Shh.”

  “I’m cold.”

  “Me too. But we’re going to start walking now. And then you’ll warm up, yes?”

  He shook his head. “I wanna go home.”

  “I know. But we’re not.” I urged him to his feet, before stealing back my jumper. To try and console him, I opened a pack of jerky and bribed him with a piece.

  Nikolai did look much happier munching on the meat stick.

  The earth crunched beneath our feet as we wandered, the movement more to keep warm and Nikolai distracted than to any destination.

  Where were we going? I wondered as I looked out into the forest. The collection of branches had never looked so intimidating as it did now.

  We’re going to die out here, the thought came to me suddenly. Either from hypothermia or starvation or being eaten alive, we were going to die.

  I looked down at my son. He walked beside me, jumping over logs and skipping around trees. I had pulled him down from climbing a few times, but he kept trying again and again. My son had gotten my wildness but had failed to have any of my common sense. Whereas I understood what was dangerous, Nikolai saw everything as fair game until he got hurt–and even then, he still couldn’t be convinced not to do something.

  When he had just learnt to walk, he had decided that climbing over the couch to the kitchen bench was his main goal. He must’ve seen Babushka make the leap and decided it didn’t look that hard. When I had spotted him, it had been too late and he had crashed to the ground, landing awkwardly on his arm.

  After a sob, band-aid and lots of kisses, Nikolai had decided he would simply try again.

  He hurt himself during the second attempt as well.

  There had even been a moment when I had carried him in my arms after the fall and almost said out loud, “What would your father say?” because I knew if Konstantin had ever seen something so hilariously stupid yet courageous, he would have a few things to say.

  I didn’t say that, however, just gave him a bath and banned him from climbing over the couch.

  How many times had I felt Konstantin’s presence in my home? Some days I had woken up with the phantom feeling of his arms wrapped around me, and I often heard his voice in my ear when I was struggling to discipline Nikolai. Even though he was miles away, his imprint in my life had never lessened–and I had felt him with me every day I had been without him.

  “Mama?” Nikolai’s little voice interrupted my thoughts. “My legs are sore.”

  “Are they, baby? We’ll be stopping soon.”

  A chilly wind rustled the leaves, causing both my son and I to shiver.

  “It’s cold.”

  “It is cold,” I muttered, eyes searching the surrounding woods for some kind of makeshift shelter. When I spotted a dip in the ground, I took Nikolai’s hand and edged him over to it. “Curl up with Baba, Niko. Mama’s going to try and start a fire.”

  I managed to start a fire by the grace of God, rubbing dry sticks together until my fingers ached and palms were worn. But warmth wasn’t the only thing we needed to survive. To get clean water I tied the plastic bag from the gas station to a branch, letting it fill with fresh rainwater. I rationed the food we had brought but it was a temporary solution–especially when I had a toddler who liked to eat.

  And a cat.

  With the issue of warmth and hydration being solved, I could give all my attention to the other large pressing problem.

  Safety.

  Or more specifically, Nikolai's safety.

  My own well-being was something I regarded as an afterthought, seeing it as more as a consequence of protecting Nikolai rather than something I had set out to do. It was such a contrast to how I used to think and behave, when I had seen myself as the only thing worth protecting and done horrible things to ensure my survival.

  Now I would do horrible things to ensure my son's survival.

  If Niko had been born as any other child, one who was afraid of shadows and glowing eyes in the darkness, one who needed to sleep in the same bed every night, he might not have been so well behaved–or so adaptable. But my son had gotten my wildness and had grown used to the woods with ease.

  Sometimes I watched him crawl over logs and roll around in the underbrush and wondered if he had returned to where he was originally from. Something about his mossy green eyes and wild spirit meshed so perfectly into the nature that now surrounded us, almost like I was returning to him to where he belonged.

  I had adapted just as easily.

  Shoes were forgotten, shed to try and confuse our hunters, but also because neither my son nor I cared for them. We liked feeling the dirt between our toes and having proper grip when scaling fallen trees. We moved like a mother bear and her cub through the wilderness, our humanities slowly disappearing the further we ventured.

  One day we reached a rushing river, the water so icy cold my skin shrivelled at the very sight of it. But we followed it down, until we reached a clear pond, where the water felt like silk running through my fingers.

  Nikolai tried to jump in, but I caught him at the last second, reminding me furiously that he didn't know how to swim and he would need to hold onto me.

  We stripped and slipped into the pond. My son tried to swim off but I kept a tight grip on him, trying to wash his hair with the clean water whenever he paused for just a moment. From her perch on a nearby rock, Babushka watched us in faint disgust, cleaning herself but remaining vigilant for any surrounding threats.

  After the swim, Niko and I laid back on the bank, letting the sunlight dry us off. The breeze rustled through the leaves and my son's jubilant voice joined the melody of the singing birds. There was nothing but peace, no threats or yells or fear, only the feeling of the sun on our skin and wind dancing over us.

  It wouldn't be so bad to stay out here forever, I thought. It wouldn't be so bad at all.

  3

  Elena Falcone

  The peace was fleeting.

  I knew eventually we would be found but when the day came, I felt more irritated then frightened. Like I was a furious schoolteacher leaning over her students and reeling them out for the note the substitute teacher left. In all my years of teaching, I have never felt so embarrassed!

  The man who had found us hadn’t spotted us yet. He was tall, with dark eyes and a nose that had been broken into the wrong shape. He walked past our hiding spot twice, unable to see us but knowing we were close by.

  Nikolai curled up to my chest, but I could feel him growing restless. Babushka had disappeared but I knew she was near us, probably watching from her own hiding spot.

  Leaves crunched beneath the man’s feet, and e
ach time one did, I resisted the urge to flinch. His footfalls would grow louder and louder, until my breath hit his shoes, before walking off again and giving me a moment of relief.

  The man looped around us a few more times, before stopping.

  Please leave, I chanted to myself. Please decide that there is nothing here, your instincts were wrong and leave.

  He stood still for a few seconds, each passing moment causing my heart to speed up and my palms to sweat. Then, abruptly, he turned on his heel and walked away, eyes still searching but footsteps slowly fading into the rustle of the leaves and music of the crickets.

  “Mama?”

  “Shh, shh.”

  I pulled us out of our hiding spot, uncurling my cramping limbs as I stood. Nikolai wiggled to be put down but I didn’t dare.

  “You can walk later. Hold onto Mama now.”

  “Wanna walk by myself,” he whined, words slurring together in childish demand.

  I hiked him up onto my hips, stopping him from slipping. He tried to unwind his arms from around my neck, but I grabbed them and warned, “You can walk later. Now, you have to be quiet.”

  Nikolai’s face scrunched up in toddler refusal. “Mama–!”

  “Shh,” I hissed.

  I usually wasn’t so harsh with him. I was strict for a few seconds until I deemed him out of danger in everyday life, but this wasn’t the time for my inconsistent parenting techniques. I had to keep him alive, I had to keep him safe.

  Nikolai picked up on my tone immediately and confusion flashed over his expression. But he stopped trying to escape.

  “Sorry, baby, but time to be quiet.” I held the back of his head, urging him to rest in the crook of my shoulder.

  Suddenly a shout erupted in the distance.

  My stomach dropped.

  Through the blur of trees, I couldn’t see where it came from, but I knew it was coming closer. Voices rose and footfalls pounded the earth.

  Was our hiding spot discovered or could I quickly slip us back into it? Could I outrun a highly trained soldier while carrying a nearly three-year old?

  I didn’t end up needing to make a decision.

  The man stepped out into sight, eyes narrowed on me. He was alone but he had spotted us. He had spotted my son.

  There was nothing else to think about, no more decisions to contemplate or fears to entertain. It was time to run, and it was time to run fast.

  Wind whipped across my face as I bolted, Nikolai in my arms. Babushka disappeared within seconds, but I knew she could take care of herself. I just needed to worry about my baby–and the man who was gaining speed on us quickly.

  My body grew tired fast, the lack of nutrients for days finally waning on me. I couldn’t keep up this speed and hold Nikolai–

  Behind me, the man made a loud crashing noise, like he had gone straight through a branch.

  I was lithe enough that I could leap and slip through small spaces.

  The plan solidified instead in my mind like a crack of lightning, nothing and then suddenly something.

  I turned sharply, twisting my ankle in the process, and slipped between two bushes. Twigs cut through my skin and leaves slapped me in the face, but I didn’t slow down.

  The man swore loudly, crashing through the underbrush.

  We had seconds–seconds–to hide, to disappear from site.

  We could dip into another hole, duck behind a log. Maybe we could crawl into the center of a tree, cocooning ourselves in its embrace.

  But anything with two legs could find us down there...no, we needed to go up.

  Nikolai didn’t even have the chance to blink. I caught my foot in a low branch and swung us up into the sky. Bark flaked as we scrambled up.

  The man burst from the bushes, his momentum not halting for a second. He kept running, disappearing back into the forest.

  I let out an involuntary whimper.

  We had been so close to being overpowered, to being caught. They weren’t going to stop hunting us now that they had caught our scent. Our peaceful days of living in the forest had come to a halt.

  “Are you crying, Mama?” Nikolai asked, his little hand coming up to my cheek.

  I hastily wiped at my tears. “I’m okay, baby. We need to climb higher. Do you want to show me how high you can climb?”

  My son perked up at the challenge.

  The two of us slowly climbed higher. Nikolai went first, with my hand hovering behind him and helping him pull himself up. Maybe another toddler wouldn’t be able to do this, but my son had been climbing before he could walk–this was an easy task for my wild boy.

  When we reached one of the taller branches, we made ourselves comfortable. I secured Niko to the branch using my jumper.

  “Where’s Baba?”

  “I don’t know, baby. I’m sure she’s okay.” I scanned the forest floor but couldn’t make out the cat. She would be fine–Babushka could take care of herself.

  I had to take care of Niko.

  I knew what I needed to do but there was also the issue of what I wanted to do…

  For over three years, I had wanted to go home, wanted to return to the man I loved. Sometimes I even got so far as packing a bag and grabbing my keys, whereas other times I only carried the thought with me quietly. In my more vulnerable hours, I created fictional universes where one day there would be a knock on the door and Konstantin would be standing there, mad at first but safe and welcoming.

  Once I had almost returned…once I had been so close.

  A few weeks after Nikolai’s birth, I had been struggling. Alone and unsure, trapped with a newborn and on the run from Tatiana’s men. We had been holed up in a motel, where the heater didn’t work and cockroaches used the bathroom as their own personal breeding ground. Nikolai had been fussy all day, leaving me exhausted and frustrated.

  Then there had been a knock at the door.

  My entire world had paused. Was he standing outside that door? Had he come to take me home? Was Tatiana dead and my family now safe?

  But it hadn’t been Konstantin standing in the hallway…it had been Artyom.

  Before either of us said anything, he had gathered me up in his arms, a shocking display of affection from a man who rarely showed it. I squeezed him back until my arms ached.

  From there somehow nothing and everything changed. I was glad it was Artyom who had found me. If it had been Roman or Dmitri, I would’ve been dragged back home. But Artyom wouldn’t let his emotions cloud his desire to keep his family safe.

  He had left me with a phone and phone number. For emergencies, he had said when he handed them over. He hadn’t said when it’s safe or when you want. For emergencies.

  The wording stuck with me now.

  Nikolai didn’t object as I fished the phone out. He was swinging his legs and peering up at the leaves. From the brightening of his expression, some bird or squirrel had captured his interest.

  This time Artyom answered on the first ring.

  “Elena, do not move,” he commanded. “We’re coming to get you.”

  “A tracking chip.” It was obvious but saying it out loud made it feel more substantial. “Are you the only one who can access it?”

  Artyom paused. He wouldn’t lie to me to make me feel better. “In theory.”

  I looked at my son, taking in his chubby cheeks and bright eyes. He wasn’t even three yet–how could he defend himself?

  “In theory isn’t good enough.”

  “Elena–”

  I pulled the phone from my ear and with a burst of strength, I threw it into the underbrush. It disappeared instantly.

  Niko peered down. “Mama!”

  “It’s okay, baby.” I smoothed down his hair. Dirt was smudged in the blond strands. “Everything’s going to be okay. Mama will handle it.”

  Not a moment later, the flora beneath us shuddered. The man reappeared, slower and more precise in his movements. He knew he had lost us,
knew the trail had gone cold.

  But that wasn’t good enough.

  The man had seen us. There was no doubt in my mind he would return to his master and ask for reinforcements. Escaping one man had been hard enough–there was no way we could manage to stay safe from dozens of hunters. They would come with guns and dogs, and they would not leave until they had what Titus wanted.

  Me.

  The man continued to circle around our tree.

  I leaned into Niko’s ear, “Don’t make a sound.”

  His eyes widened.

  With ease, I got onto all floors and slowly made my way across the branch. When I could, I lowered myself down the tree. I felt almost like a monkey, making a home out of the tops of branches and using leaves to hide myself.

  But no monkey would do what I was about to do.

  When I got close enough, I paused. I stayed in a crouched position, watching and waiting.

  The man continued his search, even going so far as to look inside of trees and behind logs.

  I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. Thump, thump, thump.

  In the distance, a wolf howled. The wind rustled the leaves. The birds chirped from their nests. Twigs crunched beneath his footfalls.

  A little closer now, I beckoned.

  The man walked beneath the branch I was stationed, and I pounced.

  Afterwards I would note how easy and familiar it had been to kill this man. How the second my fingers dug into his eyeballs; my entire body had known what to do. Or how the feeling of my fingers in his sensitive flesh wasn’t as disgusting as the first time.

  I braced myself on his shoulders, gripping him with godlike strength.

  He yelled beneath my attack, his arms instantly coming to try and yank me off. But I had the element of surprise, mixed with maternal instincts and the ravenous hunger to survive.

  When blood began to spill over my hands, I loosened my grip–

  The man threw me off him, sending me sprawling into the ground. But it didn’t matter. He kneeled over, hands to bloody eyes. His screams echoed throughout the forest, interrupting the howls and wind and birds.