Once the parade finished, a gold-sculptured rooster crowed. Bells rang. The crowd gawked, holding up their phones and cameras. Emily held her hands to her mouth in utter shock, taking it all in like a kid. The amusement looked so foreign to the usual way she held herself.
“I can’t believe this clock has been around for so long,” she said.
“According to local legend, the city will suffer if the clock is neglected.”
The crowd dispersed as the clock finished its hourly show. Music filled the air. Prague was modernized enough into tourist’s likes, but there was a strong support for chamber music here. With such a baroque space, the music added a dimension of delight to the scene.
“Are you glad you came?” I asked.
“Yes.” She gazed down one street and then another. I could tell she wanted to race down and explore. Surely, I wanted to do it with her, see this city from her eyes for the first time.
But as Death showed us with his hourglass, time was running out and death would always be near, if we didn’t pay attention.
When the show ended, she turned to the corner on the right. A quartet played outside—bass, violin, accordion, flute. People stood on the cobbled street watching them play an emotional piece I knew by heart.
“Do you know this song?” she asked.
“Yes. It’s called Vtlva, named after the river. Many people call this song ‘the blood of the people.’”
She smiled. “Thanks for showing me this.”
“I’m glad you love it.”
“I do.”
“There will be more to show you.” I began to turn.
She touched my arm. “Kazimir…”
“Yes?”
“I’m nervous.”
“Nyet.” I took her hand into mine and linked our fingers again. “I would destroy the world, if it would calm you.”
Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Why?”
“You know why.”
Did she?
I barely knew why myself as we returned to the limo.
Three
Emily
“I would destroy the world, if it would calm you.”
My heart hammered in my chest. I climbed into the limo and did my best to breathe.
I’d already had difficulty with breathing after the fantasticalness of the clock. Then Kazimir had further taken my breath away. Those words shoved the air out of my lungs.
Memories of how he’d set my body on fire flashed through my mind. I almost curled my toes in my shoes. He’d dominated me. I’d begged for his dick. I’d sucked and licked. I’d moaned. I’d clawed and whimpered. I’d screamed his name until my throat went raw.
I’d melted in his arms. I’d drowned inside his soul.
Nothing about life was normal anymore. I’d entered a fantasy realm, some dimension parallel to mine, but very much not my life. I’d become a damn princess overnight. A princess on the run and a down low serial killer, but a lucky woman just the same.
Kaz had been nothing but perfect on the flight. In the clouds, we were free like birds. Now that we’d landed and our feet had hit the ground, I felt the shift in my body and emotions. We were no longer birds. Now we were beasts, sharpened teeth and blood-stained claws. Ready to tear at other’s flesh.
Since we’d landed, he’d done his best to keep me calm in the middle of the chaos of tanks, fighters, and foreign cops. Still, we’d left and entered this magical land of Prague where a supernatural scent thickened in the air. Even the wind smelled of magic. Ancient and mystic.
It was an overcast day. Gray clouds silvered the colorful buildings, but didn’t dull the bold, bright architecture.
It was an ancient land. Trams and buses rushed by the riverfront. They were the only symbols of modern times. Classical music filled the space. Large puppets dangled in the windows of immaculate buildings.
And it was so different from Harlem. There was more cobblestone than cement. More gaslights than poles. More white-wigged musicians playing on corners than dealers slinging drugs. More theaters than McDonalds.
Adventure coursed through my veins.
I drank it all in. Houses and buildings towered over us as we drove by, blazing goldenrod and carmine. There were gothic steeples and baroque cupolas, capped roofs of red and eggshell blue. Above it all a castle loomed on a hill outlined by gothic beasts. Magical ones. Gargoyles and angels. And when we passed, I swore their eyes moved, following us the whole time.
“This is beautiful,” I said.
“They call Prague The Golden City of a Hundred Spires,” Kazimir said.
“I can see why.”
Music spilled into the streets, dancing along with the camera-toting tourists. Violinists played on the corners along with accordion players. Colorful pubs decorated the space. Inviting shoppers’ lanes twisted into vibrant farmer’s markets boasting fresh fruits and handmade crafts.
We stopped at an intersection as tourists walked by. At the corner, a man held two puppets and sang to a large group of people. On one hand, he dangled a lion. On the other, a mouse.
No fucking way.
“Kaz.” I nudged him and pointed. “What do you think?”
“That’s a good sign.”
“Or do you think Sasha did that or—”
“No, mysh.” Kazimir smirked. “Sasha is not that good.”
I didn’t keep my eyes off the puppeteer, even as we drove away. Blocks later, I let those puppets leave my mind, pulled myself away from the window, and focused on everyone in the limo.
In the time of the clock and riding away, Maxwell had clearly been drinking. He laughed and joked with Valentina as they did impressions of the other’s accents.
Maxwell deepened his voice and looked scary. “Dis is de vay…Russian man talk. Look. I veel show you. He moves his head and does dis and dat.”
Valentina roared with laughter. Kazimir and Oleg didn’t appear amused.
Really, Maxwell? This is why I didn’t want you to drink yet. Because you think you’re funny, and others end up shooting at us at the end of the night.
“Okay. Okay. Check this out.” Valentina batted her eyelashes. “Aw am Bey-key from Man-hattan and Aw lawve the football.”
“What?” Unable to control myself, I laughed.
“I have no idea what you said.” Maxwell furrowed his brow.
Valentina shook her head at us like we were crazy. “I said, ‘I’m Becky from Manhattan and I love the football.’”
X wagged his finger. “Your drinks are heaven, but your American accent needs work.”
Valentina looked at me. “Emily, is that true?”
“Sorry.” I shrugged. “But, Becky from Manhattan is not talking like she’s from Alabama.”
Valentina rolled her eyes. “How would you do it?”
“Yeah, show her.” Maxwell grabbed a glass, giving up on pretending to follow our rule of no drinking on the job. “Emily does good accents. She has a good Russian one.”
“Oh really?” Kazimir turned to me. “Let me hear it.”
Swallowing, I tensed as all the attention to turn to me. “Should I do Russian words or a Russian person speaking English?”
Valentina blinked. “You know enough Russian to do an accent now?”