Page 14

Fourteen

M y outhouse plopped down in a dense thicket of woods parted in the center as a landing area for guests. I’d been to Rogue’s castle in Russia right after the Titanic fiasco but hadn’t jumped in my outhouse. I had no idea the location, so I squirreled the landing coordinates from Campy. As Fredericka’s defender, he knew the exact spot of her secret lair.

Caiyan said Rogue gave him information before he died. He didn’t say told him. After debating those words over my morning coffee, I decided to go straight to the source.

The woods surrounded a small arm of the sea that fed an actual moat around the mountain that supported Rogue’s castle. I guess it would be Fredericka’s castle now, or maybe Sasha’s if she ever returned to our time.

I walked down a pebbled footpath landscaped with pink and white flowers. Electric lanterns spaced along the route hung on hooks, I assumed to guide Rogue home after his clandestine missions carried into the wee hours.

Stopping in the middle of a small footbridge that led over the moat, I leaned back and looked up at the tall, ice cream cone-sculpted towers. Perfect for holding Rapunzel or Princess Fiona or Sleeping Beauty hostage. Crenelated battlements cut along the top of the walls like the lower teeth of the Devil’s hound.

A creepy shiver zinged up my spine and I felt like someone watched me. “Fredericka’s probably hanging from the rafters like a vigilante vampire bat,” I said, taking in the onion-shaped Kremlin dome.

Rogue didn’t use the conventional method of vessels. At least not the kind a traveler could land in a hanger or a meadow. Sasha and Fredericka had twin minisubs that required a water landing platform. Not so easy to travel in like my outhouse, but it suited the Russian sisters.

My shoes clicked on the slate stepstones that circled the tower as I searched for the stairs that led way, way, way up. The side of the mountain opened, an opening cut with such precision that I didn’t see it until Fredericka stood in the doorway wearing dark jeans and a black button-down shirt. The dark eyeliner was missing, and her lips were a clear gloss instead of her normal blood-red lipstick. The Joan Jet haircut had grown out into long, straight strands. It looked good on her.

I sent her a finger wave.

“I saw you land.” Her accent sounded thicker, more pronounced. More Russian, more scary. No doubt a result of living in her homeland these past few months. “To what do I owe a visit from Cowboy Barbie?”

Fredericka got pleasure in punching my buttons. I wouldn’t call us friends. She wouldn’t mind getting her perfectly manicured devil-red claws into Caiyan, and I had issues with that. I wasn’t positive she hadn’t already sunk them into his gorgeous flesh.

I stopped in front of her. “Did you just happen to be staring out the window, or were you perched in the belfry?”

Her mouth twisted into a faint smile. “We have cameras. I thought you might want to ride the elevator, or you could take the stairs?” She motioned toward the massive stone steps that wrapped around the mountain. I grimaced, recalling the many, many steps leading up to the main entrance of the castle.

“That was thoughtful of you.”

It was a smooth ride to the main floor. We didn’t speak, and the silence made me fidget.

The elevator doors opened. She swished past me and continued down a long hallway with cathedral ceilings and Belgian blackstone floors.

I followed her into the grand room with the same stone floors, though covered with plush rugs and layered with leather sofas and tufted cherry armchairs. Rainbows of summer sunshine fell through narrow gothic stained-glass windows framed by thick velvet curtains, warming the room.

Fredericka saw me admiring the windows.

“The castle was built in the late twelfth century to monitor the main trade routes and protect the coastline from invasion.” She extended her arm and made a game show hostess sweep. “This room is the keep. The stronghold of the castle and my grandfather’s favorite. At least, that’s what I read in his journals since I didn’t know him.”

“I remember this room from my last visit.”

“You mean the day I discovered I had a family that the WTF kept from me? The same day my grandfather died and my long-lost twin sister fled with the King’s eye?”

I cringed. OK, maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.

“Can I get something to drink?” I asked.

“Water, soda, Vodka?” Fredericka motioned toward a leather chair. The word stay went unsaid.

“Water is fine. Thanks.” And while she was away, I’d snoop.

When she left, I walked the room. An unlit fireplace big enough for me to stand inside dominated the west wall. The mantle held a few photos of Rogue with some Russian diplomats I recognized from the news. A pair of bookcases flanked the fireplace, holding books in Russian, English, French, and Chinese.

A baby grand piano filled an alcove. It was hard to imagine Rogue playing piano with his stubby fingers and surly attitude. I didn’t picture him as a lover of the arts.

Framed pictures sat on the polished wood. Rogue with a teenaged Sasha. Rogue with two black spaniels. A black and white photo of Rogue in a military uniform beside a woman in a white dress. A wedding photo. These were the family photos. There was a small one of a toddler. I picked it up. The image looked damaged, blurred.

“That’s the only photo of my mother.”

I startled at Fredericka’s voice. I didn’t hear her enter the room. The woman was stealthy, like a Russian cat burglar. She took the photo and exchanged it with the water.

I took a drink wishing I’d chosen the vodka. “Caiyan told me the WTF took her when she was young.”

“I should have known Caiyan would tell you all our dirty little secrets.” She looked down at the photo, then replaced it on the piano.

“He only told me about the fire Gian-Carlo started in Rogue’s house and that your mother was saved and hidden from Rogue.”

“To hide their guilt.”

I sipped the water. “I was wondering, what do you remember from your childhood?”

Fredericka motioned toward one of the chairs. I sat, holding the water glass in my hands because I feared it would leave a watermark on the antique table.

She perched on the sofa across from me, studied me for a minute. “I’ll tell you because I think you want to find Sasha. But only if you promise not to hurt her. Not that you could, of course, but if the situation presented itself.”

“I want to save Marco. I’ll protect Sasha the best I can, if the situation presents itself.”

“I heard he stayed.” She paused, waiting for me to respond. When I didn’t, she added, “He’s been here too.”

That took me by surprise. Marco never told me he’d been here. “I didn’t know.”

“He cares for her, but his past choices of partners don’t encourage me.” Her eyes narrowed like she knew I had feelings for Marco and silently warned, you can’t have your cake and eat it too .

Jeez, Louise. Can’t a girl be iffy about her love life in peace?

“Marco’s a friend. A good friend. I don’t want him hurt any more than I want to hurt Sasha. I only want answers.”

Her face softened a little. “My mother’s adopted family died when I was young, so I don’t remember them well. We were poor. There was war. My mother worked in a factory. The kind lady next door watched over Sasha and me until we were old enough to stay by ourselves.”

Fredericka stood and walked to the window. The light cast a copper hue in her hair. “One day, my mother came home. She told us she’d met someone, a man. He would help us. We would be better. She quit her job at the factory and spent time with him. Then, one day she told us we were moving to America. I think I was about thirteen.”

And had recently come into her gift, I thought.

“Sasha didn’t want to go. She had friends at school. I wasn’t so lucky.” Fredericka shifted uncomfortably. “Men loved our mother. She was beautiful, but she never brought home any of her lovers. I never saw the man, but it was the happiest I remember my mother. Until the day she wasn’t.”

“What happened?”

Fredericka frowned. “I’m telling you.”

I gulped down more water. My inner voice told me to save my questions until the end.

“She had been out with him, came home in a rush, pulled out our big suitcase, and tossed our clothes inside. She shouted at us to gather our most precious things because we had to leave.”

Fredericka moved to the piano and ran a hand over the wood. “Sasha had a cat. Mother said she couldn’t bring her. Sasha took the cat and ran from the house. I will always remember the frantic look on my mother’s face at Sasha’s disobedience.”

She walked around the room as she spoke.

I stood because her pacing was giving me whiplash. I set my glass on a nearby marble-topped breakfront.

“There was a knock at the door. My mother looked scared. I asked her what to do. She removed a box from under her bed. Inside was a necklace that had belonged to her grandmother. She clasped it around my neck.” Fredericka touched the stone hidden under her shirt. “My key.”

I instinctively ran my fingers over my own.

“She let Sasha and me wear it sometimes, only in the house. Mother wore one, too. I didn’t know what it was. Sasha despised that it glowed when I wore it because Mother was proud.”

“Your mother didn’t know Sasha had the gift because her gift came later than yours,” I said.

She nodded. “The knock came again. Mother ordered me to go with her friend.”

“The man?” I asked.

“No. An older woman with white hair waited at the door.”

“My Aint Elma?”

“Yes. I didn’t know her then, but I hated her for taking me. They knew. Somehow the WTF knew I had the gift. She took me to an older Russian couple living in America. The man had the gift, too. He trained me. He became my defender, and his wife, my friend.”

I remembered the stoic Russian. He turned in his key and retired about the time Campy joined the WTF.

Fredericka’s hands fisted at her sides. “Mother promised to find Sasha and come for me. She promised we would be together.”

“And she never came,” I answered.

“Elma told me that my mother had abandoned us. And she couldn’t find Sasha. I tried to find them, but news to America wasn’t easy to come by for a teenager. One day, Elma showed up and told me my mother had died and my sister was most likely dead too.”

I approached Fredericka, placed a hand on her arm. “My Aint Elma was no fool. If she kept you away from them, it was for your protection.”

Fredericka looked at me with a maybe, maybe not shine in her eyes. “I must find Sasha to know the truth. To know if my mother abandoned us. To apologize to her for not trying harder to find her.”

“Can I see Sasha’s room? Maybe there’s a clue as to what happened.”

She looked at me skeptically but walked toward the door. “This way.”