Chapter 4

I am going to untie you and you are going to stay quiet, understand?” The big blond Viking commanded in a stilted Russian accent.

I nodded once more, and he did as promised while still sweaty and covered in blood and whatever parts of Boris’s grey matter. Up close I could see the ice blue colour of his eyes and had a stupid girlish thought – they were really pretty.

It must have been the shock of being abducted, naked, cold, almost raped and an eyewitness to a gruesome murder kicking in because I started to laugh. Not a simple little chuckle mind you but full on belly rolling laughter. My attractive murderer came to the same conclusion. “You’re going into shock.” He murmured as he untied the last rope.

Having all my limbs free meant only one thing to me – freedom and with that thought, I took off running. I tied the robe closed as I ran. Not even knowing what direction to go. I just ran. I listened for footsteps behind me but there were none. Using the decrease in temperature to guide my way, I made it to a kitchen. The people there screamed when they saw me head to the door like a madwoman. I ran outside barefooted into the freezing snow. I slid on some ice but kept running.

Then I felt the reason I wasn’t being chased. My limbs slowed as my body felt the dip in temperature and my teeth started to chatter. I slowed to a walk as pins and needles shot up my legs. To make matters worse, there were no buildings in the distance apart from the one I just ran from. All I could see was snow upon snow.

A howling began in the distance, but I was quickly becoming too cold to care about any wild animals. My body would be a popsicle by the time they got to it. The soft crunch of snow alerted me to someone coming behind me, but I was too frozen to fight, far less run.

“You’re still alive, that’s one point for you. You didn’t get very far though.” The murderer pointed back to the house.

I had barely made it 100 feet from the house!

“You’re not Russian, how were you planning on leaving this place? On the feet you are quickly losing?”

I honestly tried to talk but it came out as an agonized groan as he casually picked me up and carried me back to what I wondered as I finally got a look at the building, I was in. It looked like a medieval castle. I was literally going to be locked in a castle!

“I’ll get you warmed up and we’ll find something more appropriate for you to wear. You’ll get some rest then we’ll talk.”

Was he going to send me home I wondered? He was talking as if he wasn’t going to kill me. I felt a small flame of hope grow at his words. Maybe he did come and rescue me. I felt ashamed for running from him when he obviously didn’t mean to hurt me. I relaxed in his arms, but he stiffened when I did, and he narrowed his eyes at me.

“Too innocent for your own good, you’ll learn.” He muttered in English, and I wondered what he meant by that.

He barked something in Russian upon entering the kitchen and everyone went back to work. A few more words and servants ran to do his bidding. He tried to put me in another’s arms, but I clung to him and he grew angry saying “You don’t want to get too comfortable here, trust me.”

I took it to mean he was sending me home and gave him a crooked smile. He spoke some angry words in Russian before practically dumping me in the other man’s waiting arms. I was taken to a bedchamber and immediately freaked out when the man tried to put me on the bed. Two women came in and one of them was the one I met in the dungeon.

“We are just trying to warm you up that’s all.” She assured me in broken English but after what happened in the dungeon, I wasn’t too happy to see her.

“F-f-f-f-f-o-o-o-r-r-r w-w-w-h-h-o-o?” I stammered out.

“Is not what you think. This time you are safe.”

“I-I-I…” I don’t trust you is what I was trying to say but she cut me off saying “Talking too much and you lose warmth. Drink this.” She finished handing me a mug. She had to help me hold it up to my lips. It was a coffee laced in alcohol. Don’t these people know I’m a minor? I can’t keep drinking this stuff! I turned my face away and she cajoled “You need to drink to warm up.”

A voice spoke from the doorway in rapid Russian and the woman’s face flamed and she took the drink away. She left the room pausing by the door next to my rescuer who had spoken. She looked like she was in trouble going by the looks he gave her. He turned his icy glare towards me then left. I was guided toward the massive fireplace by the other woman and wrapped in furs as she rubbed my hands and feet.

The female accomplice returned with another mug. I could smell the contents as she entered, it was hot chocolate. I drank it greedily. The little kid in me relishing in its comfort and the woman outside moaning from the decadent taste. The actions of the other woman had begun to painfully restore warmth to my feet as rubbed my now warmed hands over my arms and torso.

Thick woollen clothes, socks and soft boots were given for me to wear. Everything was of course too big to be even considered a fit, but it came warm like someone just pulled it from the dryer. The women then put their hands on their hips and stared at me or rather they were staring at whatever was on top of me.

“What?” I asked.

They glanced at one another before the accomplice replied, “We don’t know what to do about…hair?”

Like every black woman I was touchy about my hair. What the hell did she mean by that? What was wrong with my hair? OMG! I hadn’t combed this thing in two days! I got up and rushed to the dresser. I could tell you right now – my newly warmed body did not like that decision at all! In the end it was more like a pain filled limp to the dresser.

I poked at the nest that was once a very sleek bun. This is my punishment for not braiding it when I should’ve. I carefully took it down and I swear even the troll dolls would laugh at this do. The women came and stood behind me as though they too were wondering what this was.

“I need a boar brush, a rake comb and moisturizer and lots of it to start.” I said finger combing it as best as I could. Apparently, my kidnappers weren’t too concerned with what happened when you mess with my hair. My mom was proud of my good hair but often I preferred keeping my hair in a bun because one – braiding and un-braiding took hours on my thick dark brown medium length hair. And two there was the “no hair pulling” when I did it. Suddenly I wished my mom was here.

I wonder what she thinks happened to me. She probably already called the police. I wish I never had that fight with Malika, …actually, I wish I never listened to that stupid bitch in the first place! If I had listened to my mom and ignored her stupid talk of getting my first kiss, I would now be safe at home! First kiss…I almost lost my virginity! If I ever see Brian again, I’m gonna kick him in his boy parts, then I’ll tell my mom! Oh God I miss her!

The accomplice showed me the hair utensils she brought which included a dryer and strangely a curling iron. As I combed out my hair, I remembered all the times my mom performed this simple task and I began to cry. I cried for Malika as well, knowing the trouble my little lie brought her then lastly, I cried for myself as I wondered what was to become of me.

I suddenly felt too tired to deal with my hair or with anything, I braided it in two and went back to the fireplace. I snuggled under the layers of blankets never wanting to go to sleep so bad in my life. Considering I was basically drugged asleep for the last two days, I should be well rested, but I was bone tired and soul tired. Tomorrow, I promised myself. Tomorrow, I’ll ask my rescuer to take me home.

Meanwhile down in the Romanov dungeon…

“So, Boris killed your father and you killed Boris.” The police officer confirmed without double checking anything. The Russian nobility was never to be questioned. Especially as he stood next to the new Prince while he was still covered in blood.

“I’m keeping my father’s funeral a week from now, he will be buried as his status demands, as for that…” Vladimir pointed to Boris' body. “...you can dump it, or I can use my incinerator. I don’t care either way he was never…natural.”

“The girl you say he was going to rape…can I speak with her?”

“Do you speak English?” Vladimir asked.

“She’s not Russian!” The officer gasped.

“A foreigner. From America of all places. He bought her from a smuggler.” Vlad smoothly told the tale. He wasn’t lying. After all his father was fully dressed while Boris was the one with his pants undone and no doubt Boris was the one who bought her only it wasn’t for himself. He would just keep that part to himself, no need dragging the Alexandrovich name in the gutter, as his father would say.

“He was a loyal servant to the Prince. It would look poorly if we brought that up.” The officer pointed out.

Even the police were concerned about his precious family name. “I’m dumping him in the incinerator then, and say he quit when my father died and went to America. It was known he couldn’t live here after my father discovered his deceit.”

“What deceit?” The officer asked cautiously, making sure he had the story straight. It wouldn’t do for him to muck this up. Mistaking one word could land him sweeping streets in Siberia…if he were lucky.

“He was trafficking young girls. It gave my poor father a heart attack to come upon such a scene. It was my own fault. I so wanted to prove he was up to something… I should have followed sooner…I didn’t think he would kill him!”

“I see. Do as you wish with the body, young Prince. It would save the city the funds to bury him. My condolences and … congrats Your Highness.” The officer stated gravely as he walked off. He paused by the door asking “By the way, Your Highness, what are you going to do with the girl? She has seen all of this…”

Without hesitation Vlad replied “I’m keeping her. She is to become my ward, I rescued her, didn’t I not.” He finished with a smile that didn’t set well with the police officer.

“I see.” Was all he said, before he left.

Vladimir let his smile fade. What was he going to do with that half breed? She was too young to be of any use to him and sending her back was definitely not happening. She would wise up and come either for money or with the international law behind her. So, no he was never sending her back. He turned and faced Boris’s body. His so-called half-brother. Did Boris know he wasn’t the only brother he killed?

That thought made him yearn for a drink but first he dragged Boris’s body to the incinerator two doors down. After tossing him in, he went for his father. In a way he deserved the same treatment but for the sake of image he pulled the covering from the cot - from where he probably raped countless girls – and wrapped him in it. He was so light! Vlad thought, as he carried the man who fathered him upstairs.

He could remember his father looking like a giant when he was a child. When had he grown so small and frail? Mikhail Alexandrovich was fifty when he married Vlad’s mother Irena and fathered Vlad at fifty-eight after his thirty-two-year-old mother had two miscarriages. When Vlad’s mother died after the death of his younger brother, the prince shipped Vlad off to a private school and he only saw his father in passing for his annual birthday inspection.

“You’re doing well in school I hear.” His father would say then tell him to turn as though inspecting stock.

“Hmm…” Would be his next comment before. “You’ll be tall like your ancestors. But you look Slav like your mother. That will be all.” And just like that he would be dismissed.

There should be tears when one’s parent dies. Vlad thought but he had none. His father was a virtual stranger to him. Unlike when his mother passed, Vlad grieved for days on end, this time he knew it would be different, not because he was glad he was dead but because he simply couldn’t find it in him to mourn someone he barely knew.