I was almost finished getting dressed for Miechen's ball that Friday night when I heard Maman's voice.
"Mon Dieu!" She cried from her boudoir. I rushed in to see her fretting over her tarot cards.
"Maman, please do not get upset. It's just a silly card game." But even as I was saying this, I knew it wasn't true.
"No!" she wailed. "He returns again and again in my readings!"
"Who does?" I sat down at the side of her chaise lounge and peeked at her cards.
"La Mort." She looked up at me, her face pale. "Death."
"Maman, please put the cards away. I think you just need your rest."
"Mais non, I am sure he is stalking this family."
I looked at her more carefully. I had not seen the cold light in so long, it was strange to see the pale glow that my mother gave off. Her cold light looked normal; I could not see anything wrong with her. "Maman, the Death card can mean so many more things than just death. It is a symbol of change." The cards could say many different things to many different people. Even I had picked up some of the symbolism over the years. Maman tended to see the worst in her cards.
"He follows the Knight of Cups. A young man. I fear for Petya!"
I looked at the card. The young man rode a white horse. It was not my brother, but George I feared for. A clammy feeling clenched my stomach. I couldn't wait to get to Miechen's ball. "Maman, are you feeling well enough to go out tonight?"
"Of course, dear. Let me pull myself together." She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. "Thank you, Katiya."
"For what?" As I looked at her more closely, I realized she too seemed years older than when I had seen her last. I was suddenly aware how warm it was in Maman's boudoir. I wanted to open the window and let the icy breeze off the Neva River sweep through the room. Maman always did like to have her bedroom cozy to the point of suffocating. I had to have fresh air.
"You always seem to calm me down. I've missed you so much." She looked up at me and smiled, and I saw that her cold light had indeed changed a little. I never could see auras, so I had no idea what color surrounded her, but I remembered what Dr. Badmaev had told me long ago. And what Princess Cantacuzene had said to me as well. Maman had dabbled in the occult for so long, her protective glamour had worn thin. It would not take much for her to see the truth about the Dark and Light Courts. How hysterical would she become if she learned that vampires and dark lich tsars had already returned to St. Petersburg? That her own daughter had the power to raise the dead? I wanted to put off her knowing that for as long as possible. Never would be fine with me.