Fear begged me to just leave Vadim's body where it was and get out into the light as soon as I possibly could, but that would not have been decent. He needed to be buried and this cellar was as good a place as any. Even so, we worked quickly, and as we first dug and then filled in the grave, it was with a wary eye over our shoulders towards the dark breach in the wall, in case the vampires returned the way they had left.
CHAPTER XX
WE RETURNED TO THE INN. THE INNKEEPER WAS, IN KEEPing with the hospitability of his profession, overjoyed to see Dmitry. He showered him with questions as to where he had been and what he had been doing – questions which I too hoped soon to have answered. Dmitry's responses were noncommittal.
'Oh, Captain Danilov,' called the innkeeper after me as I made my way up to my rooms.
'Yes?' I replied.
'Your young lady was round last night. I had to tell her you weren't here.'
'What time?'
'Gone midnight, sir.'
'Did she say anything?'
'Nothing, sir. She just went home again.'
'Thank you.'
I was abominably tired and my first thought was that a few hours' delay in seeing her would not be too significant. I continued up to my room and lay on my bed. My head had scarcely hit the pillow when I realized what Domnikiia must be thinking. She knew what creatures I was up against and that I was out looking for them. Coming here to find I wasn't back at that late hour, she would have concluded either that I had found them or that they had found me. (I still wasn't too sure myself exactly which had been the case.) The longer I delayed seeing her, the more worried she would be that they had been the victors. I hauled myself off the bed and set out to find her.
It was still early, and the brothel was not yet open for business. I hammered on the door and it was answered by Pyetr Pyetrovich.
'We're closed,' he told me.
'I've come to see Dominique,' I said, pushing my way in.
'Oh, it's you,' he said. 'This is a place of business, you know. You can't just call when you please. Not without paying.'
I walked past him, pulling my coat to one side to make sure he got a clear view of the sword I was wearing, and headed up the stairs.
'If you like Dominique so much, we could come to some more permanent arrangement,' he called after me.
Domnikiia was still in bed, but awake. She sat up as I entered. I sat on the bed beside her. She looked intently at my face, but said nothing, her eyes searching my expression for some clue as to what had been happening.
'We found Vadim,' I told her.
'Really?' She sounded pleased. For a moment I didn't realize how ambiguous I had been.
'No, it's not like that. He's dead.' I rested my head on her shoulder and tears ran down my cheek, though I just about managed to keep my voice steady. 'Dead since just after I last saw him.'
She stroked my hair and murmured soothing words. Though it had not been my intention when I entered the room, I pushed her down on to the bed and made very selfish love to her. There was little pleasure in it for me, and less for her, but it fulfilled in me merely the need to obliterate for a moment every higher thought and every human emotion, to descend to the level of an animal where nothing but the moment matters. Considerations of the future, of my responsibilities, of those around me, all could be forgotten just briefly – all too briefly. It was the way a soldier screws a woman he has never met before and knows he will never see again. He might pay for it – he might not have to. Although I had paid Domnikiia many times before, I had never had such disregard for the person beneath me. It was not about her. It was about allowing me to forget her along with everything else.
For her part, I can only suppose she was used to such things, though, I hoped, not from me. I think she was happy enough to perform it as a service for me, as a wife might prepare her husband's dinner or wash his clothes. For me, it had nothing to do with her, and any woman in the building could have taken her place. But she would have seen that as a betrayal, much the same as if a husband got another woman to make his dinner or wash his clothes – a betrayal not of the heart, but of the partnership.
'What's to become of us, Lyosha?' she asked a little while afterwards.
It was the question every faithless husband must dread.
'I've no idea.'
'Neither have I,' she said. 'That's the problem.'
'Is it a problem?'
'Not at the moment.'
'There's still a war. I could be dead tomorrow.' I decided to give myself a little leeway. 'Or the day after that.'
'I know. That's why it's not a problem, but one day it will be.'
'Only if we both survive,' I said with a mirthless laugh.
'Or if the war never ends.'
'So you want an unending war, with us both under the threat of death, but never actually dying, just so we can stay together without our consciences bothering us?' I asked lightly, though the very mention of conscience almost made me shiver at the memory of a different, recent conversation.
'That would just about do it,' she said with a grin.
'I'll have a word with the crowned heads of Europe, then. See if they'll help us out.'
'They seem to be doing pretty well already.'
It was a silly conversation, as trivial as many we had had before, allowing us daily to forget reality, but today it could do little to lift our mood.
I sat up on the side of the bed and glanced towards the table. On it was a letter. I could not see the content, but the single word of the signature screamed out at me: Iuda.
'What's this?' I asked, picking up the letter.
'Ah, yes,' said Domnikiia. 'I was going to tell you about that. Very mysterious – especially from a man you told me was dead.'
'You should have mentioned it,' I snapped.
'I was going to,' she insisted, upset by my tone, 'if you'd given me the chance. Polya – one of the girls – found it when she opened up this morning. It was slipped under the door, addressed to me. Read it. It's more for you than for me anyway.'
I opened the letter and read it silently.
Mademoiselle Dominique,
As I am sure you will have heard from our mutual friend Aleksei Ivanovich, our mission in your country has not gone according to the plans that were originally conceived. It is to my utmost regret that this has led to deep misunderstandings arising between myself and Aleksei Ivanovich, for which I must immediately acknowledge my share of blame. Sadly, affairs have come to such a state between us that it is now impossible for us even to communicate the simplest of requests to one another and, as I'm sure you will readily comprehend, this is no basis from which we can easily find any remedy to the situation.
I therefore entreat you, Mademoiselle Dominique, as Aleksei Ivanovich's close friend (and, I dare to flatter myself, as mine) to act as an intermediary, that you might help to heal this melancholy rift between two formerly hearty and successful comrades. If you would desire to help in this matter, then my simple request is that you convey to Aleksei Ivanovich my petition to meet with him at seven in the evening on the twenty-eighth day of October at the crossroads to the south of the village of Kurilovo. He will know this location better, perhaps, as U4, although I shall not bore you with details of why it is so designated.
Please express to Aleksei Ivanovich the utter sincerity of my wish to meet with him and my fondest hope that with a few minutes of conversation, we can resolve any confusion that may have led to the distressing rift that now exists between us. If Aleksei Ivanovich cannot or chooses not to attend, then please assure him of my continued devotion to both him and his country, and please also, Mademoiselle Dominique, appreciate the heartfelt affection that I hold for you personally.