Heart of Iron - Ekaterina Sedia [34]
“And a bit rude,” I added. “I really don’t appreciate being insulted, but this is not why I do not trust her. I think she may be a spy.”
His face retained the same smiling expression but mirth left it momentarily, only to return with an exaggerated chuckle. “Nonsense,” he said.
I thought he was an awful liar but did not challenge him, content to see my guess hit near its target. “And you are here to help Nicholas,” I said. “The gendarmes listened to you. What do you want with the Chinese? Is this why Nightingale and Herbert are here?”
He shrugged, uncomfortable. “I cannot tell you much, but be assured that it has little to do with your friends. However, I can say Prince Nicholas once sought an alliance with Britain to help protect Russia from the Chinese threat.”
I snorted. “This is nonsense. There is no threat.”
Jack only shrugged. “If you say so. If there’s no threat then the Chinese have nothing to fear.”
“This is not true and you know it,” I said. “There has been enough damage done already, and I still don’t know what happened to Wong Jun.”
“I cannot help you.”
“I do not need you to.” I freed my arm from his. “I wrote to my aunt about this injustice, although in vague terms and naming no names.” I had learned from my encounter with the police. “I expect she will set things straight when she arrives in December.”
A gust of wind grabbed my shawl and flapped it in my face while simultaneously tearing off Jack’s hat—he had foolishly forgotten to maintain a grip. He lunged after it, just as the wind picked up force and hurled the hat down the street with the speed of a locomotive.
“You can always get another,” I said, but discovered Jack was no longer in my immediate proximity—somehow, he was a few hundred feet ahead, picking up his hat from the pavement and shaking it free of puddle water. I was still rubbing my eyes when he returned to my side. “How—” I started to ask.
“I was a sprint runner when I was younger,” he said with an apologetic smile.
But that was no sprint. That night at the Crane Club I had been willing to let myself believe panic and darkness had deceived my eyes, but now, in somewhat weak but sufficient light of the afternoon, I had no excuse. He had not run, he had hurled himself . . . flew . . . jumped . . . he moved faster than was possible, faster than my eyes could follow him. I realized he had, indeed, fallen out of the sky that night.
I looked around. Nevsky was not crowded, thanks to rain and chill in the air, but there were a few passersby and couples walking arm in arm, some clerks hurrying along on business, their long gray overcoats heavy with rain. No one seemed to have noticed Jack’s unusual behavior. There was no one I could appeal to for confirmation.
“I see,” I said slowly. “Do you expect me to believe that?”
He smiled wider, but humor was gone from his eyes. “You should,” he said, “if you know what is good for you.”
I glared. “Are you threatening me now, Mr. Bartram?”
He shook his head, rueful now. “Not at all. A warning, perhaps. A worry.” His gloved hand took mine and squeezed it, almost desperately. “Please believe me, Sasha. I would never do anything to let any misfortune befall you, but sometimes you really must look away.”
He walked me to my dormitory in silence, and I spent a sleepless night, angry and elated and generally uncertain how to feel.
Considering my restless night, it came as no surprise to find myself dozing through most of my classes the next morning, revived only by Dasha’s sharp jab to my side at the end of each lesson. I was ready to take my confidences to Dasha instead of Olga, in hopes she was slightly less obsessed with matrimony, but the fates interfered: when I came back to the dormitory that night, I found Anastasia in a nearly hysterical state, precipitated, as I discovered, by my aunt who was currently sitting in the living room, drinking tea, and scolding Anastasia for dust under the lampshade.
“Aunt Genia!” I exclaimed and ran across the room to embrace her. “What a pleasant surprise!”
She let me kiss her dry, papery cheek.