Witches Burn at Dawn ✔

45. Mir (Part I)

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Now

"Wakey, wakey. Oh, finally, Vlad. It'd be such a pity if I had to kill you without introducing myself first."

My head is pounding as though hit with a hammer, and as I open my eyes, everything swims in my vision. I don't recognize the chapel, but it looks abandoned. A stone skeleton of a church. The icons on the walls are chipped and tarnished, the pews broken, their wooden splinters lying across the damp floor dig into my palms as I struggle to sit upright. It's dark and smells of mold, and I feel like waking in a dream for a moment as it seems the voice talking to me is in my head.

"Or should I say Mir?"

Turning toward the question, I realize the voice is not in my head. A girl sits at the bottom of a winding stair in the corner. Moonlight pouring through a narrow window spills over her yellow dress and her hair, copper-red just like Yara's once was. My heart stutters. I am dreaming. How Yara's old body--?

She meets my bewildered stare, and a smile curls her lips. "Or Vladimir? How many names do you have?" No, not Yara. Yara has never looked at me with such unchecked hatred.

"Not enough to hide from you, clearly." I touch my throbbing temple, sticky with blood. "Hello, Tatya."

Tatya's smile transforms into a proud grin. "True." She gives a dismissive gesture, definitely enjoying that hatred of hers. "Don't worry about the blood, you'll live. For now. You jumped from there, remember?" She points at the balustrade halfway upstairs. "Let's go, I'll give you a tour."

Before I decide whether I want to agree or refuse, I find myself scrambling to my feet. It's rather an impulse I obey without thinking, out of uncertainty, because it seems better than doing nothing.

But I don't want to obey this impulse.

"I said let's go," she repeats, irritated, when I stop.

With another jolt of uncertainty, my legs start moving again. She controls me. She said I jumped...why would I? Then icy realization slithers down my spine. Magic. But how? Nilam always said every spell required a sacrifice: the stronger the magic, the bigger the price. What kind of morbid price the magic that turns people into slaves can require? "I thought you were dead, Tatya."

"And I thought you were a human," she replies matter-of-factly, ascending the narrow stone staircase. What's that supposed to mean?

As I pass the window, I glimpse the river outside, its waters pale and peaceful. It will end where it all began, Laverna's words suddenly emerge from my memory. She said it to me last night, when bumped into her in the apartment, barging out of the room after seeing Yara and Nilam kiss. I didn't listen to Lav then, didn't think of the meaning behind her voice. But I surely heard and remembered.

That's why I'm here. This is where it all began. The riverbank in Blakfait, where I helped Yara gain her powers. And this is the chapel outside which Yara kissed me for the first time. Where she kissed Vlad.

"The view is lovely, isn't it?" Tatya continues. "A bit creepy inside, though. I used to joke and tell my sister this would be a perfect place for a murder. Not a joke anymore, I guess." Pausing, she peers into the blackness outside. "That's the remains of your grandfather's house over there, huh?"

I swallow hard, struggling not to follow her gaze. Last week, I summoned the courage to visit Yara's house, where her mother died, but not my grandpa's house. Not the place where she died. "I didn't kill your sister."