Spring's Arcana by Lilith Saintcrow

Author:Lilith Saintcrow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tor Publishing Group

IDEAS

Coco’s atelier was closed and locked, but Dmitri said she could leave the paper bag on the front step. “Should just keep it,” he grumbled, sinking himself a little deeper in the leather seat. The car’s steering wheel was more of a yoke, like in small planes or race cars; the engine’s purr was faintly menacing. It had the curves of an old, beautiful Chevelle, and the hood ornament was the silver snarling head of a fanged creature somewhere between wolf and bear. “Be careful, zaika.”

“I can’t keep it. That would be rude.” Nat reached for the chrome handle. For a moment she was afraid it wouldn’t let her out like the SUV last night, but the door swung wide and she just had to worry about slipping and falling on her ass.

Fortunately the ice cringed away from the boutique’s doorstep in scalloped patterns, delicate seashell traceries revealing an invisible border. If Nat let her gaze unfocus just a little she could see a shimmer, just like whatever unseen thing—or series of things—did Coco’s sewing.

I hope it’s a union shop. She settled the paper bag snug against the bottom of the glass door and straightened, suddenly aware she’d left the car’s side hanging open and there were eyes on her. The sensation of being watched was unmistakable and a little frightening.

No, a lot frightening.

“Thank you,” Nat said softly. “It was beautiful. I felt like a princess.” Until they nailed a man to railroad ties and his body split open. That was a real corker, as Sister Eunice Grace would say.

Why had Mom sent her to Catholic school? She’d insisted on it, despite Leo muttering nothing good ever came from priests, I should know, Maria, and so should you.

My daughter, Maria Drozdova said, will obey me. And that was that.

Wouldn’t the sisters just have a ball with this? Imagining Dmitri among the black-and-white statues with their habits billowing on cold breezes was only moderately funny, in the way just barely escaping a terrible accident could make you laugh while sitting on a grassy verge and waiting for the fire trucks to arrive.

All this time she’d thought Mama sent her to the nuns because it was better than public school, or some holdover from the old country. Would anyone ever tell her the real reason? Maybe Baba would know.

Good luck scraping together the courage to ask her, though.

The sense of being watched sharpened, and she stepped gingerly away from the door. Getting back to the car was no trouble. Yet Nat paused, looking down the deserted, frozen sidewalk. Nothing about this was normal, but the sudden isolation was super-duper not ordinary, and the mad thought that she could take off, her fists pumping and her ribs heaving, and somehow, some way, outpace the big black car—

“Eh, zaika.” Dmitri leaned over the center armrest, peering into the failing light. “Don’t get any ideas, now.” A storm was on the way; Nat’s scalp tingled and her fingers ached a little.

The feeling wasn’t fear, though. Or it was, but underneath was a deeper, darker swelling.

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