This Time Tomorrow (Phenomenal Fate 2)

They pounded their fists against the walls, shouting for vengeance, and Roksana barely checked the urge to hug her elbows to her belly. She favors them over me. “I can do this. Tell me the task.”

Her mother’s expression grew pinched and the battle cries died down. She paced another circle around Roksana, the club tap-tap-tapping against her palm. “May I ask, Roksana, what have your feelings for this vampire given you? Sexual gratification? Affection? Companionship?”

“No,” she whispered, the weight of her heart increasing to that of an anvil. “Nothing.”

“Nothing. That’s right. He’s brought you nothing but a death sentence and the ridicule of your own kind.” Inessa bared her teeth against Roksana’s ear. “Men will always disappoint you. I learned my lesson with the bastard who fathered you, then left for another before you could walk. A woman who wouldn’t make him insecure about his own strength, like me. Was there hurt? Yes. But I learned, and now I possess myself. I own myself and I owe not a soul. Especially a man.”

Roksana breathed in the motherly lesson like an addict inhales smoke. This was useful. Her mother loved her and wanted to see her successful. And wasn’t Inessa right? What had Elias given her but one, single night where hope existed?

Now that hope was extinguished she needed to wake up.

To grow up.

“The task, Inessa. Please. I’ve learned my lesson.”

Her mother hummed in her throat, moving to face Roksana fully once again. “You think it will be easy? It won’t. You will probably die.”

“I will live and be triumphant. You underestimate me.”

Inessa backhanded her across the face.

Ignoring the ringing in her head and the laughter from the surrounding slayers, Roksana snapped back to attention.

“There is a poker game on Wednesday night. At a well-appointed home near the Arbatskaya metro station. There is money at stake, but the pot will hold something much more valuable.” She lowered her voice for Roksana’s ears alone. “The winner receives a binding marriage decree for Mary the Mad. Whoever holds it can dictate who she marries.”

Hello left turn. “Who is Mary the Mad?”

“She is the daughter of Tilda.” Inessa inclined her head. “Tilda is the owner of Enders and she wants to decide who Mary weds. Unfortunately, her husband crafted this decree and now it has been compromised. See how men fuck everything up?”

“Why are people competing for this decree?”

“Despite her mental shortcomings, Mary has quite a…value.” Inessa trailed the top of her club along the slope of Roksana’s throat. “Win the decree, bring it to Tilda. And in exchange, she will give you something I want. A game piece, so to speak. Bring it back and place it in my hand.”

“What is it?”

“That’s for me to know,” Inessa said lightly, though a threat flickered in her eyes. “Only me. Is that understood?”

Roksana nodded. “Yes.”

Inessa pressed the club to Roksana’s jugular, twisting. “But before you come back here, you will kill Elias Perry or you’ll be slaughtered as soon as you set foot in Moscow. His existence is offensive to humanity. With your failure to end him, he’s now an offense to me, as well. You will never be strong until you overcome this weakness. He is your weakness and you will obliterate it.” The words landed like a vicious backhand. “One task. Three parts. Can you do it, Roksana, or should we simply kill you now?”

“I can do it,” Roksana gasped, her voice emerging unnatural because the club was cutting off her air. “You have my word.”

Inessa removed the club and Roksana sucked in a lung full of oxygen. With it came gratitude. Hope. She wasn’t going to die tonight. Instead, she would get a second chance to earn her mother’s respect and maybe, just maybe, the love she’d proven herself unworthy of so many times. Suppressing the urge to throw her arms around Inessa’s neck, Roksana took a backward step toward the door—

“Oh.” That single word from Inessa stopped Roksana in her tracks. “You didn’t think you were just going to walk out of here without any consequences. Did you?” Whatever took place on Roksana’s face made her mother laugh. “Aw. You did. But that’s not how it works.” She gestured for the other slayers, dozens of them, to attack at the same time. “Leave her alive.”

Twenty minutes later, Roksana stumbled out of the back library entrance and fell to her knees, blood pouring from her nose and bottom lip, her eye sockets screaming with pain. The bruises to her stomach and back wouldn’t be formed yet, but they were trying, pushing up from beneath her skin like miniature beds of spikes. Was one of her ribs cracked?

Roksana coughed and blood misted onto the concrete steps.

Don’t curl up and die. Don’t curl up and die.

Not yet.

One of her eyes was swelling closed, but she looked ahead with her good one, locking her attention on the market in the distance. The place where she’d bought the chocolate bar.