Necropolis (Royal Sorceress Book 3) (16 page)

“You’ll be having a rest today,” he said, seriously. “We might have pushed you too far.”

Olivia nodded. Her headaches had only grown worse over the last few days, although she wasn’t sure if it was because of the use of her power or because of Ivan’s meddling with her brain. She needed to eat and drink more too, like other magicians who burned through their energy reserves regularly. It struck her, as Esther followed Ivan into the room with a large tray of food, that she’d never seen a fat magician who used his powers regularly.

“Thank you,” she said. It was odd, but she felt a certain amount of liking for Ivan, even though he’d Charmed her into submission. Perhaps it was because he had also shown concern for her, while Gregory viewed her merely as a tool. “What’s the special occasion?”

Ivan gave her a sharp look. “Gregory will be hosting a visit today, from the Court,” he said. “You’ll remain in this room until we come for you.”

Olivia looked down at the fur nightdress she’d been given, after she’d complained about trying to sleep naked. “You expect me to meet them?”

“No,” Ivan said. “We suggest you stay here and catch up on your sleep.”

“Oh,” Olivia said. It was a joke. The more undead she had whispering at the back of her head, the harder it was to sleep. Every night, she dreamed of their twisted faces as they ran riot through the streets of London. She hadn’t told her captors that she could still hear the undead, not when no one had asked her if she could. It was something she might be able to use against them later. “I’ll do my best.”

Esther finished laying out the tray, then departed. Olivia watched her go, noted how she shied away from Ivan, then looked up at the Russian. He seemed more amused than anything else, she decided, almost as if he’d relaxed in her presence. And then she decided to ask the question that had been bothering her since she’d first laid eyes on Esther.

“That girl,” she said. “What
is
she?”

“A Jew,” Ivan said.

Olivia stared at him. She’d never actually
seen
a Jew, but she’d heard about them on the streets of the Rookery. No one had ever had anything good to say about the Jews. They were money-grubbing lenders, willing to squeeze the last penny out of someone in need ... which didn’t make them any different from the other loan sharks infesting the poorer parts of London. Olivia had feared and dreaded the day she would have needed to take a loan for herself, knowing that she’d be killed if she couldn’t keep up with the payments ...

But Esther had been normal. Just another girl, little older than Olivia herself.

“They’re hated in the cities and countryside,” Ivan explained, as he motioned for Olivia to start eating. “If they didn’t have the Father Tsar’s protection, they would be hunted down and killed by the outraged peasants if something went wrong. They are loyal because they have to be loyal.”

Olivia shuddered, remembering some of the stories about Loyalist Irishmen or American Indians. They were loyal, because without their loyalty they wouldn’t be protected by the King ... and without the King’s protection they would be slaughtered by their enemies. If the Russian Jews were in the same boat, they’d be understandably unwilling to assist her in escaping the complex. Esther wouldn’t just be killed; her entire family would be slaughtered. Olivia gritted her teeth, bitterly. She’d hoped the young girl might help her. But she knew better now.

Ivan waited for her to finish eating, then withdrew, leaving her alone. Olivia rapidly found herself bored; she climbed out of bed, tried the door – it was locked, unsurprisingly – and then went for a wash. This time, the water was alarmingly cold, but splashing her face with cold water helped to wake her up. Still, when she got back to the room, there was nothing to do with her time. No books she could read, no games to play ... not even any exercises set by her tutors. Cursing under her breath, she lay down on the bed and tried to sleep. Instead, she received a jarring series of images from the undead ...

...
One of them was facing a man, his hands tied behind his back. Sheer hunger blazed through her, overwhelmingly powerful; she lunged forward, sank her teeth into his throat and sucked the glorious life from his body. Warmth ran through her as she watched her victim fall to the floor, already starting the transformation into a creature just like her. He moaned as he stumbled back to his feet, then stepped away from her. There was life just ahead of them and they intended to take it for themselves ...

Olivia snapped awake, feeling the whispering growing louder and louder until it threatened to overwhelm her. She screamed as the voices suddenly became very clear, then fell back into the darkness ...

...
A woman was kneeling in front of her, banging her head on the floor as she begged for mercy. But Olivia barely noticed; she pulled the woman to her feet, bit into her arm and then dropped her to the ground. Life energy surged around her as she stumbled forward, seeing more sources of light and life ahead of her. The uniformed men would be tough, but she didn’t care ...

...They stabbed at her with their weapons. She didn’t feel the blows, not even when she sank to the floor and darkness overcame her ...

She screamed again as someone slapped her face. Her eyes snapped open to reveal Ivan, standing beside the bed with a concerned expression on his face. Olivia was suddenly aware that her hands were sticky and looked at them, realising – to her horror – that they were covered in blood. Behind Ivan, Gregory watched with an expression of amused interest. He made no move to heal her palms from her self-inflicted wounds.

“You started to scream,” Ivan said. “What happened?”

Olivia glared at him, mutely. He was her captor, even if he’d shown more concern for her than anyone else. She had no intention of telling him anything, unless he forced it from her with his Charm. At least she would have had the satisfaction of forcing him to actually do some work. Charmers were lazy, as a general rule. They found it too easy to manipulate others into doing their work for them.

“It won’t be a problem,” Gregory said, in English. He meant for her to understand. “But we can leave her here for a few days ...”

“Of boredom,” Olivia said. She sounded like a whiny child and didn’t much care. “There’s nothing to
do
here.”

Gregory’s eyes glittered. “You could always raise some more of the dead.”

Ivan spoke to him rapidly in Russian. They had a long conversation while Olivia listened helplessly, unable to understand a single word they said. Perhaps Esther could teach her Russian ... no, she knew better than to ask the poor girl anything now. If she tried to teach Olivia or even to help her in any way, her family would suffer for it.

“We will find you some books,” Ivan said, finally. “And you will have time to relax.”

Olivia sighed. She knew she couldn’t relax, unless they drugged her. And she didn’t want to ask for drugs. They’d know that something was wrong.

“You wanted me to bring them back to life,” Olivia said. “Why? What’s the point?”

Gregory, surprisingly, answered her, a gleam in his eye that chilled her to the bone. “The Father Tsar is surrounded by weakness and treachery,” he said. There was something about his attitude that reminded her of the doom prophets from London, the men who walked the streets clad in sackcloth and preaching that the end of the world was nigh. “He can no longer rely on anyone away from His Holy Presence.”

Olivia swallowed. She had a nasty feeling she knew where this was going.

“The armies have failed him,” Gregory continued. “The heathen Turks continue to advance, to threaten the sacred soil of Mother Russia. The diplomats have failed him. We are locked into an alliance with France which threatens to plunge us into another war. His people have failed him. They plot revolution in the streets and plan to take over the military. Even the weather has failed him. The population groans under a famine caused by poor weather and very bad harvests.”

“So you’re in trouble,” Olivia sneered. She hoped – prayed desperately – that she was wrong, but she feared she wasn’t. “Why do you want me to raise the dead?”

Gregory’s eyes seemed to gleam brighter with the unholy glow of fanaticism. “I will give the Father Tsar an unstoppable army,” he proclaimed. “The undead will march south into Turkey, crushing the Turks and their collaborators underfoot. Istanbul will return to the Orthodox Faith, while the Muslims and the Hindus are slaughtered and then made to rise again as part of our army. And then there will be France and the rest of the world. It will all belong to the Father Tsar.”

Olivia stared at him. “You’re mad.”

His hand moved so fast that she didn’t even realise he was about to hit her until his hand slammed into her face, almost knocking her off the bed. Blood trickled down her nightgown as pain surged through her jaw ... once, she would have taken it in her stride, but now ... now, it cowed her as effectively as Ivan’s Charm. She touched her bruised face and stared up at him, trying to meet his eyes. He showed no hint of doubt, no fear that he might lose control of the undead. But could such a large army ever be controlled by anyone?

Master Thomas had controlled a force of undead monsters, Olivia knew. But all he’d done was give them general orders, just as she’d done – later. How long could any Necromancer maintain control over an army of thousands, of millions, of undead ... a number so large as to be utterly beyond her imagination? She suspected that no one could handle such a large army, not even the most capable Necromancer in the world. Gregory would be lucky if he got them all going in the right direction ... and God help any of his own people who got between them and their targets.

It had been years since Haiti had been depopulated by the undead, she recalled. Gwen had told her about the incident, sparing nothing. The local witch doctors had believed they could use a Necromancer and control his powers. Instead, the undead had refused to behave as predicted, broken loose and started to consume the population. French and British troops had been unable to destroy them before the entire island was rendered utterly barren. These days, no one landed on Haiti, no matter how desperate they were. There were quicker ways to commit suicide.

She tried to imagine the horror the Russians would unleash. The undead were deterred by large amounts of water, but Russia had no natural barriers between itself and the rest of Europe or the Middle East. They’d advance out in all directions, smart enough to overcome enemy defences or crush their way forward by sheer weight of numbers. There would be no stopping them until they reached the English Channel, if then. Half the world’s land surface would belong to the undead.

“You have to listen to me,” she pleaded. “You can’t control such a large army of undead. You
can’t
.”

“We can,” Gregory corrected. He raised his hand to slap her again, then stopped when Ivan shook his head. “The Father Tsar will get his army, young lady, and you will help us to create it.”

“No,” Olivia said. It was pointless defiance and she
knew
it was pointless defiance, but she couldn’t just submit any longer. “I won’t help.”

“You will,” Ivan said. He sounded absolutely confident of success – and he was right, Gwen knew. “You are ours now.”

“Even I can’t control so many,” Olivia protested. The whispering at the back of her head seemed to be growing stronger. What were they
doing
to the undead to make them moan and whisper so loudly? The British Empire had never experimented with the undead. They believed the undead far too dangerous to play with, no matter the promise of science. “You can’t control them.”

Gregory leaned forward until his face was almost touching hers. “I have a plan,” he said. Up close, the stench of urine was almost overpowering. “And you will play your part, as you are called upon to do.”

He stepped backwards, then turned and marched out of the room. Ivan turned and watched him as he passed through the door, then turned to look at Olivia. His face was deathly pale.

“You mustn’t talk to him like that,” he warned, frantically. “Don’t you know what he is?”

Olivia shook her head. Gregory was just another monster in human form, as far as she was concerned, like all the others she’d encountered in the Rookery. There were men who thought nothing of rape or murder, women who killed their partners or sold their children for opium or tobacco ... there were horrors that none of the children at Cavendish Hall could imagine, only a few short miles from their home. How was Gregory any different to the men who planned to slaughter their rivals in bloody street fighting?

“He’s
Skoptzi
,” Ivan said. “Do you know what that is?”

Olivia shook her head. The word meant nothing to her.

“They’re a ...
sect
,” Ivan explained. “In the past, they were misunderstood and persecuted by the State, but now they worship Father Tsar. To them, he is a
god
. He can do no wrong and they will do
anything
for him. They have nothing in their lives but him.”

“Oh,” Olivia said. She’d met a few nuns who had no room for anyone in their lives but Jesus Christ. Some of them had been decent enough, willing to work with the poor; others had been just as sweetly condescending as Gwen’s mother. But most of the priests she’d encountered had been more interested in chasing whores than actually spreading the word of God. “And so?”

Ivan stared at her. “Have you not noticed the smell?”

Olivia’s lips twitched. “Does he have problems keeping his bladder under control?”

Ivan didn’t smile. “He’s a eunuch,” he said. “His genitals were removed when he was initiated into the
Skoptzi
. He will do
anything
for the Father Tsar because he has nothing else to live for. You have to understand that, Olivia.”

He leaned forward. “You are in great danger,” he added. “If you don’t learn how to accommodate yourself to the
Skoptzi
, they will eventually kill you.”

Olivia watched as he stood up and walked out the door, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Her jaw still hurt – she was uncomfortably aware he might have knocked out a tooth – but a cold resolve had overcome her. She was not going to stay in the complex any longer than she had to. Closing her eyes, she reached out with her mind, falling into the whispering she could hear in her head. If her magic was the only weapon she had, she’d use it, no matter what she’d promised Gwen ...