Jasper Kent - Thirteen Years Later

‘Seven years of screwing my wife – just for this moment?’

‘This moment?’ asked Iuda.

‘The moment I would find out.’

‘Oh, you do have a high opinion of yourself, Lyosha – and of my foresightedness. I had no idea how I was going to use our relationship when we first formed it. I will admit that the thought of you discovering us was – throughout – an added excitement, though not, I think, so much for Marfa. Not at first. Early on, I imagined the possibility of you rushing in on us and smothering her in some jealous rage, like that Moor, and then you would go to prison for it, but I quickly realized you don’t have that kind of mettle.’

‘I might have killed you,’ said Aleksei, with the intended implication that he still might.

‘Then you would still have been convicted as a murderer. But that is why I’ve obtained a little protection.’ He tapped his chest lightly with the flat of his hand, but Aleksei did not understand what he meant by the gesture. ‘It seemed that was unlikely too though, so I’ve been forced to live merely in the hope of the sense of betrayal you would feel on your discovery.’

Aleksei smiled. He didn’t feel so betrayed. ‘You must be disappointed,’ he said.

‘Time will tell.’

Aleksei might have dismissed the comment as bravura, but he knew Iuda well enough to fear there might be more behind it.

‘So what do you plan to do with Marfa now?’ he asked. ‘Kill her?’

Iuda laughed. ‘Why should I?’ He leaned forward and spoke confidentially. ‘You and I are both fortunate, Lyosha. Men of our age seldom get the chance to enjoy the body of a beautiful, sensual woman. I would be a fool to put an end to it.’

He stood up, seemingly impatient, and walked over to the piano. He sat down and began to play. Aleksei did not recognize the piece, nor did he like it, but there was no doubting Iuda’s talent. He noticed for the first time a scar on Iuda’s neck – almost healed. He felt his heart jolt as he wondered briefly if Iuda had at last become a voordalak. But the fact he could see the wound proved no such transformation had occurred. If Iuda were a vampire, his flesh would have healed. Besides, his reflection was clear in the mirror that hung on the wall behind the piano, as it had been in the bedroom mirror. Iuda was as human as he had ever been, but clearly he’d had some kind of falling-out with a vampire – perhaps even Zmyeevich. Aleksei began to formulate a question on the matter, trying to find the words that would most rile Iuda. At the very least it would interrupt him from playing that strange, discomforting music.

But before he could say anything the door opened. It was Marfa. She had dressed, but not formally. Her cleavage was deliberately obvious, as were her ankles and calves. She walked over to Iuda and placed her hands on his shoulders. She looked more alluring than Aleksei had seen her since they were first married. She was just turned forty, and getting a little plump, but not excessively. That evening, her skin seemed to glow. That was thanks to Iuda. Aleksei pushed the thought from his mind.

‘That’s beautiful, Vasya,’ she said. Her voice still sounded nervous, but she hid it well – not as well as Iuda, but he was practised at extemporization. As much as they both might try to appear confident, Aleksei guessed his arrival had taken them by surprise, though Iuda at least had known it would happen one day.

‘Thank you, my dear,’ Iuda replied. He stopped playing and reached for her hand, placing it against his lips.

‘I’m not sorry, Aleksei,’ said Marfa, turning to her husband. ‘There’s no reason I should be. I’m not even angry any more.’

‘Angry?’

She frowned in annoyance, and raised her voice just slightly. ‘With you, for being with… that woman. You should have told me if you weren’t happy.’

‘I was happy,’ said Aleksei, but he realized his explanations were not going to help. He was happy with Marfa, then he had met Domnikiia and he became even happier.

‘Good,’ she said. ‘And we’re both happy now. You can’t object to me taking a lover, can you?’

‘I object to it being him.’ Iuda gave a look of mock indignation as Aleksei spoke.

‘Because he’s your friend?’ asked Marfa.

Hardly, thought Aleksei, but what could he explain of Iuda to Marfa? What he had done in Moscow in 1812? What he had done in Chufut Kalye just weeks before? It would sound less like the pathetic excuses of a cuckold and more the ravings of a madman. Neither would achieve anything.

‘He’s not my friend,’ he said simply.

Marfa frowned and looked down at Iuda. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve been the cause of that. Vasiliy Denisovich is a fine man.’

Aleksei leapt to his feet. ‘I can’t stay here,’ he said. He headed for the door. Marfa caught up with him just as he was stepping out into the street. He turned and looked at her. She was shivering from the cold. It was ridiculous for her to stand at the open door in the winter weather dressed like that, but Aleksei relished the sense of vulnerability it gave her. He remembered how much he had once loved her. He still loved her, but he loved Domnikiia more. It was she that was forcing him to choose.

‘You can’t leave,’ she said.

‘I’m not leaving,’ he replied. ‘I’m just going.’

‘We have to think of Dmitry.’

‘I know. I know. But I can’t think now.’

‘Nothing really has to change,’ she pleaded.

He paused. He really couldn’t think, but he had to. ‘That’s what I thought,’ he said, ‘until I found out it was him.’

She looked bewildered – not the strong, confident woman of moments before. In Iuda’s absence she was lost. And that was why Aleksei knew he could not abandon her – because, one day, Iuda would.

‘We’ll find a way,’ he said, ‘but not right now. Give me a few days.’

He kissed her and then put his arms around her, squeezing her briefly, but tightly. Even after, he liked to think he’d felt her hug him back.

ALEKSEI HAD TURNED ON TO NEVSKY PROSPECT AND WAS heading he didn’t know where; to the west, towards the river, but that was merely a direction, not a destination. The city was busy, despite the snow and the early dark – these were things the people were used to. Aleksei walked briskly, his head down, ignoring those around him. He felt the road slope upwards and then down again as he crossed the bridge over the Moika, but he did not look into its frozen waters.

Iuda must die. That was the only solution – and the solution to many problems. He could see no prospect of Marfa abandoning her lover, and if she stayed with him… it was too insane to contemplate. At worst, Aleksei would have to leave her. It would cost her her reputation and eventually far, far more. Iuda would find some abominable way to treat her; there was no doubt about that. He was like the scorpion Aleksei had discussed on the hilltop of Chufut Kalye – it was his nature. Aleksei could not leave his wife to that. He would have known that anyway, but he had felt it as a certainty since he had looked into her eyes just now on the threshold of the home they had made together.

And so he would have to kill Iuda – not in the way he had tried so often before; this would be simple murder. In 1812 there had been a war, and one more body would have made no difference. In the caves of Chufut Kalye, there would have been no remains – he would have been devoured by his erstwhile captives, if only Aleksei had had the guts to stay and ensure that it happened. Even on the beach in Taganrog, where a single thrust of his blade would have destroyed the monster, he would have got away with it – he was a member of the tsar’s personal bodyguard, defending His Majesty as was his duty.