She wasn’t like them. She couldn’t stand for what Kankava and the Mkhedrioni were doing. She just couldn’t. Yet the more she thought about her position, the more her will seemed to break down.
Anna wondered whether maybe Maria and Viktoria had once been like her. In ten years’ time would Anna be the one to break the sordid news to the next young thing that walked through those doors? She shivered at the thought. She couldn’t allow that to happen. She would do anything to stop herself becoming like them.
Anna barely slept that night, only drifting off in the small hours. When the alarm went off at seven a.m., she was finally in a deep sleep and awoke a groggy, confused mess.
After forcing herself out of bed she began her daily chores, first helping to cook breakfast before moving around the veterans – feeding those who needed feeding and cleaning up after those who could manage by themselves.
When she came to Alex, she felt a strange unease as soon as he laid eyes on her. What did he know? She meekly sat in the chair next to his bed. He studied her.
‘You look... different,’ he eventually said.
‘Just tired,’ Anna said, thrusting a spoon of scrambled egg toward Alex’s mouth.
He took it and swallowed quickly. ‘You often cut your lip sleeping?’
She felt at the small scab on the bottom of her lip. ‘Accident.’
‘Yeah,’ Alex said. ‘I’m not going to ask you about it. Don’t worry. But remember, it’s only my body that doesn’t work. My head, my brain, is as good as ever.’
Anna felt she knew what Alex meant by that. A Mkhedrioni himself, maybe he had always known about what Kankava was and what happened to the girls at Winter’s Retreat. And it wasn’t like he was in much of a position to stop it.
She remembered the conversation she’d had with Alex the night before.
‘You said you knew of my father. That you didn’t know why he would send me to this place. What did you mean by that?’
Alex sighed. ‘I know of him, yes. Not your father as you know him, though. But his reputation.’
Anna frowned. ‘Why do you think he’d send me here.’
‘People can be very complex. I don’t know him so I can’t answer that. I’m sure he had your best interests at heart.’
Anna scoffed. As much as she loved her father, she couldn’t comprehend how her being at Winter’s Retreat was in any way good for her.
‘I heard a lot of stories about your father,’ Alex said. ‘Much of it was probably fable but there must have been some truth there too. There’s truth in all legends, one way or another.’
‘You think my father is a legend?’
‘To some yes.’
‘I haven’t heard from him for months. Do you think–?’
‘He’s still alive. You’d have heard if he wasn’t. No news is good news.’
Alex took a break from talking as he wolfed down several mouthfuls of food.
‘Anna, do you know who your father is?’ he asked after finishing the last of his eggs. ‘What your father is?’
‘Yes,’ was her immediate response but realised it wasn’t true. ‘No, actually. I know him as my father, but... I don’t know.’
‘Will you let me tell you a little about him then? Perhaps that will give you some of the answers you need, as to who you are and why he brought you here.’
Anna shifted in her seat, intrigued but also uneasy about what Alex had to say. Did she want to know? Would it change the way she felt about the man who had single-handedly brought her up? Perhaps it was best to leave him on the pedestal that he’d always been on, to close her mind off to who her father really was.
But he’d sent her to this place. Perhaps if she knew more about him, she’d know why he’d do something like that.
‘Tell me,’ Anna said, before she could talk herself out of it. ‘I want to know.’
‘Okay, I’ll tell you,’ Alex said. ‘Your father, Anna, is an assassin. He kills people. For money. But he’s not just any assassin. He’s probably the best, the most infamous, this country has ever seen.’
CHAPTER 12
Anna spent the day mulling over Alex’s revelation. She wanted to know more about her father, but the conversation with Alex had been cut short when Maria showed up to help move Alex to change the bedclothes.
Anna finally got her chance to speak to Alex alone again later that day. ‘Do you know where my father is?’
She reached down and pushed the sponge into the soapy water then gently rubbed it along Alex’s legs. Even though she knew he could feel nothing as she bathed him, she got the impression that he found the process soothing nonetheless. Perhaps it was the memories of bathing, from back when he was able-bodied. Memories that were hard-wired in his brain, that still triggered relaxation, even though he could no longer feel the warm water against his skin. It wasn't too dissimilar to what she saw in some of the amputees who believed they could sometimes sense the presence of their lost limbs.
‘No,’ Alex said. ‘I don’t know where your father is. How could I? I don’t get out much these days.’
Anna smiled. ‘But you said you knew of him. Perhaps you could help me find him?’
‘I only really knew of him by reputation.’
‘You said that before. So tell me what you know.’
Alex sighed before he spoke. ‘What I’m about to tell you... no one else in this place knows. And I wouldn’t dare tell them. Vlad Abayev might be a father to you, but that’s not who he really is. The name people know him by is a name to be feared. Like an infamous warrior from times gone by. People would talk about him, share stories about what they’d seen and heard. Some would only whisper his name for fear of being struck down. That was the power of his legend. Others, of course, believed he was a myth.’
‘But not you?’
‘No, not me. I saw what he could do.’
‘You said you only knew him by reputation?’
‘I never spoke to him. In fact, that night, I never even saw his face. All I saw was his shadow. Everyone knows of him, but few people have seen his face and survived to tell the tale.’
‘But he came here. He walked me right up to the front door. He was standing there in plain sight.’
‘I know. But did anyone else see your father that day?’
‘Kankava did.’
‘Kankava knows your father. Apparently. I don’t know the story.’
‘No,’ Anna said. ‘And neither do I.’
‘But even if someone else had seen your father out here, they wouldn’t have realised who he really was. His legend is well known. His real identity, what he looks like, isn’t.’
‘I’m confused. How do you know him if you’ve never seen his face? How do you know my father is this legendary assassin?’
‘I just know,’ was all Alex said, not looking Anna in the eye.
She couldn’t quite read his mood. He seemed so hesitant about the story he was telling. Was he playing her, over dramatising the story? Or was he genuinely rattled by the prospect of revealing what he knew?
‘And you haven’t talked to anyone else here about this?’ Anna asked.