The Chalice of Immortality (10 page)

Rasputin!

“Millie,” Damian commanded, “you need to come with us. We'll return you when it's safe. But for now, we need to get the chalice to America, and you should remain with us.”

She nodded, but at that moment, Rasputin uttered a spell, and the wolves' beastly nature took over. One lunged at Millie and bit her hand. She shrieked in pain, and in the commotion, the blood, and the snarling of wolves, Nick saw Damian rise up and fly toward Rasputin. But then behind Rasputin, dozens of winged Shadowkeepers swooped down in an all-out attack. Nick watched as his two cousins fought with a flurry of side kicks and flames.

Nick created a fire circle around him and Millie so he could help tend to her injury while keeping the wolves at bay. Then he felt a cold chill like he had never felt before.

He looked up just as Rasputin flew straight at him and pressed his hand over Nick's mouth.

And then the world went utterly dark.

Nick's head pounded. He opened his eyes, but he had no idea where he was. The room spun in dizzying circles that reminded him of the visions he had of Amelia Earhart's spiraling plane. But this was far worse, because he was suffocating. So he reminded himself to
breathe
.

That's better,
he thought to himself. He blinked several times. Then he left his eyes open and tried to figure out just where the heck he was. But he quickly realized he was not anywhere he had ever been before.

He wondered, for real, if he was on another planet.

Around him, long stalagmites and stalactites grew in complex formations. He heard dripping sounds, like water constantly trickling. And he was cold—very, very cold. He shivered. The air smelled funny.

The landscape of this strange planet or whatever was barren. No trees grew. No grass. He was aware of snowflake-like growths on the wall. He tried to touch one, but his arms ached so much that he could not move them.

“What the heck?” he mouthed aloud. He turned his head gingerly and saw a lake—a lake of black water.
All right,
he thought. There was water on this planet.

But—no sky? Nick stared straight above him. There were more snowflake-like growths, but no sky. No moon. No stars. Certainly, no sun. Torches burned in holders on the wall.

He started remembering the simple acronym he'd learned in third grade to recall the planets.
My Very Evil Mother Just Showed Us Nine Planets. Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto.
He wondered,
Does it matter that Pluto isn't considered a planet anymore?

Nick struggled to focus his eyes and remember all the planets. He thought he might throw up. Which planet was he on?

From a long way off, he heard the sound of paws padding on rock. Nick rolled over and tried to sit up. He was resting on a damp rock—he seemed to be bound there by some spell. His head spun, and he leaned over and retched.

Then he heard Rasputin's voice.

“Ahh, I see our guest has awakened.”

The crazed monk stood, framed by the light of a torch. Next to him was a wolf, but behind him, Nick saw the leathery shapes of Shadowkeepers.

“Where are my cousins? Where is Millie?”

“If they even survived, which I seriously doubt, you are someplace Damian and Theo will never find you, I'm afraid. The Kungur Ice Caves.”

“What?” Nick croaked dryly. “What ice caves?”

“Caves in Mother Russia. Far
beneath
Mother Russia, I should say. No one will hear you
scream
. No one but I shall know how deeply you will suffer. No one will see you as I force you to consider just whose side you want to be on. You are mine, little Nicholai Rostov.”

“I'm not little,” Nick said. “You're really starting to get on my nerves.” He gritted his teeth, bile still burning the back of his throat. “Give me back the chalice.”

The monk laughed. “Or what? Your false bravado won't do anything, Nick.”

Nick swallowed and tried to think of how he could escape.

“You fell right into my trap. What would compel the boy, the prince of the Magickeepers, to find me the chalice I desired, the chalice that would seal my immortality forever? What would compel him to find this relic for me? Who would he be willing to move heaven and earth to save? There were a few choices. Should I cast the spell between life and death on dear, sweet little Isabella?” He said the words mockingly. “She who protects the animals? The one who so selfishly released my wolves?”

At the word
wolves
, the beast next to Rasputin snarled. Nick stared at the crazed monk. The Grand Duchess had told him stories about Rasputin, about how his eyes were marred by insanity and evil. She was right. Only, if it were possible, he was more murderous now.

“Isabella is a spunky one. And she is your best friend. But there is that
tiger
of hers to contend with. I don't like tigers. So I thought…should I cast the spell on Theo? Ah, Theo, my despised nemesis. He should have rightfully led the family, but I discovered merely killing the woman he cared about was enough to make him retreat to that classroom of his, to his books and spells. Theo isn't the Magickeeper he once was. He is too much the scholar, too much the historian. The teacher. And I know you love him, but no, no, no, he was not the right choice.”

Nick didn't want to listen to anymore.

“Or perhaps the Grand Duchess? But…such a weakling now. Not worthy of my attentions. She's positively ancient. My biggest regret is I didn't kill her along with her family when they were murdered in cold blood.” Rasputin paced slightly. “Or maybe Damian. Should I cast this spell on him? A family clan without a leader would render them confused, would it not? In disarray. I rather liked the thought.” Rasputin's voice was gravelly.

“You will pay for this!” Nick said.

The monk, his black clothes moth-eaten and musty, threw his head back and laughed. “But then I decided, no. I thought about a boy who grew up without a mother. No one to teach him his ABCs and 1-2-3s—evident from your report card, no less. What would that boy be like? And even if he thought his father was a failed magician, he would have all his childhood memories with that man. So I decided that when I destroyed Madame B.'s shop, the spell would be cast—and you would have to find the chalice. You would find it because you are a clever boy, perhaps the cleverest of all. And indeed, you have brought me precisely what I need to rule forever.”

He held up the chalice, admiring its shining beauty. “I suppose I should thank you. But instead, I'm going to make you suffer.”

Nick suddenly felt a stabbing pain in his temples. He had never felt pain like that before. Clutching his head, he fell to the floor. The wolf strained at its leash. Nick lifted his arms up to shield his face from the wolf's teeth. The world started swimming in front of him. The pain in his head intensified.

“Hurt enough for you?” Rasputin asked. “Why don't you beg me to make it stop?”

“Never!”

Rasputin neared. The Shadowkeepers stayed in the dark recesses of the cavern. Rasputin raised a finger. The pounding in Nick's head subsided, and he caught his breath.

“Why do you use your power for evil and not good?” Nick asked. “Why did you hurt the Grand Duchess's family? Why? You don't have to be this way. Why did you leave the family tree?” He hated to think he was actually
related
to the monk, way back in the far recesses of his family history. The first night Damian kidnapped him, he had shown him the family tree, and in the area where Rasputin was, the branches were charred and blackened.

“But I
do
have to be this way,” Rasputin sneered. “It is my nature. And you may not believe it, but it is your nature, too! You're just too blinded by love for your newfound family to see it. You need to think back to the loneliness, to the way the other children in school treated you when your clothes were just a little too shabby.”

Despite everything Nick knew about the monk, he felt his head hurting, and his mind…involuntarily opened to the monk.

Rasputin reached out a hand to Nick's head and placed his fingers at Nick's temple. Nick couldn't fight him. It was as if the monk's fingers were made of the strongest stone.

“Now, my dear Kolya, I want to discover what makes you love. I find it curious. You could have all the power in the magic world. You could bring kings and presidents to their knees. You could rule the planet, have riches beyond your wildest dreams. But instead, you stay inside a hotel and cater to crowds of
tourists
.” He spat the word. “Why? Only the foolishness of love makes you do that. And now I shall see for myself why that is.”

Nick gasped. He saw stars, honest-to-goodness stars, as Rasputin pressed his fingers into his temples. And then, just like in Gazing, his world spun in a kaleidoscope of out-of-order images.

***

“Look at him, darling,” his mother cooed. “He's having his first taste of cereal. Snap a picture so we remember this day.”

His father stood with a camera, a lopsided, adoring grin on his face. “Smile, my precious little boy. Say cheese.”

Snap.

Flash.

The camera took his picture. His mother leaned over and kissed the top of his head. She smelled like jasmine perfume. “I've never been so happy in my entire life.” She looked at his father. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

“I wish we could stay here forever. Just freeze this moment—always safe, always happy. Just this perfect moment for the three of us.”

His father reached out and squeezed her hand. “We're safe, darling. I won't let anything happen to you or our son.” His father leaned down and kissed his head. “Don't babies smell like heaven?”

***

His father rocked him. “She's gone, baby Kolya. She's dead, and now I think my heart is broken.” He let out a small sob. “But I promise you, I will never, ever, ever leave you.”

The TV cast his father in a bluish light. It droned on and on, keeping them company in the night. Rather than put him to bed in his crib, his father just held him all night long until he fell asleep, his head to one side, still clutching Nick tightly in his arms.

***

“He's walking!” Grandpa beamed. “A chip off the old block. He takes after me.”

“Because he's walking, Gustav?” his father said, laughing. “Walking? I mean, I walk, too, you know.”

“Ahh, but it's how he walks. With panache. With style!”

“I give up.” His father threw up his hands teasingly. They watched him toddle toward a table and bang with blocks, making a racket. But neither man shushed him.

“He's a gift. From her, from Tatyana.” His grandfather scooped Nick up in his burly arms. “People die, but if they have children, they go on. They live forever, in some way.”

***

“I don't get it,” Nick whined. “Math is too hard for me.”

“Nothing is too hard for you, Kolya,” his father soothed. “You're brilliant.”

“I'm not! Math is too hard for me. Look at these multiplication tables. It's the twelves! It's like—a foreign language.”

“Ah, but I never told you about your mother, did I? She could speak six languages.” He held up his hand as he counted off on his fingers. “English, Russian, Polish, Greek, Latin…and Multiplication Tables.”

Nick looked up from his tear-stained homework. “Come on, Dad. I'm not like her. She must have been really smart. I'm not smart.”

“You are, though.” He said it so earnestly. “And did I tell you that you're special?”

Nick shrugged, shoulders hunched.

“Show me your palm.”

Nick held out his hand.

His father pointed. “Now, I'm no palm reader. That's for your mother's family. They're a little…eccentric. But I do know this. You have a special star in your palm somewhere…and it means—well, it means you are special and brilliant. Your mother told me that. And I know all parents say their kids are special and brave and brilliant, but you really are. So you can do this.”

Nick nodded. “Sure.”

“Try again. For me.”

“All right. Twelve times nine is…is…108.”

His father beamed. “See?” He high-fived him. “I told you!”

***

“I had a bad dream!” Nick sat up, sweating. “I saw a man with…crazy eyes, and he was coming in my room.”

His father sat down on his bed. “That's the third nightmare this month. Maybe I should stop doing my act. Get a nine-to-five job, so I'm always here at night. It seems like these nightmares come more and more frequently.”

“But you have to work nights. You're a magician.”

“Ahh, your mother completed the act. Since then, I've lost my love for it. And honestly, Kolya, I would rather work days—even at a job I hate—than think of you having these horrific nightmares with no one here to sit with you. In the end, you are more important than anything in my life. I'll sell insurance. I'll butcher meat! I'll sell shoes or…be a waiter. I don't care. I just want you to feel safe.”

“Don't do that. You're a magician. It's what you do.”

“Then maybe I can ask your grandfather to stay here most nights. He can sleep on the pull-out couch.”

Nick grinned at his dad. “I think I'll give him my bed. He'd break the pull-out. Plus he snores!”