The house dominated a wooded lot on the eastern outskirts of the city, beyond the sprawl of low-slung buildings and colorful mosques, in an area where many of the newer estates had sprung, the hilly terrain once littered with Soviet-era guard towers. Federation prosperity had generated both a middle and an upper class, and those with means had begun to flaunt it. This house, built a decade ago, belonged to Zovastina, though she’d never actually lived here. Instead, she’d given it to her lover.
She surveyed the luxurious interior. An elaborately carved Louis XV console displayed an array of white porcelain figurines given to her by the French president. A coffered ceiling topped the adjacent living room, its floor covered by inlaid parquetry protected by a Ukrainian carpet. Another gift. A German mirror anchored one end of the long room and taffeta draperies adorned three towering windows.
Every time she stepped down the marbled hall, her mind wandered back six years, to one afternoon when she’d approached the same closed door. Inside the bedroom she’d found Karyn naked, a thin-chested man with curly hair and muscular arms atop her. She could still hear their moans, their ferocious exploration of each other surprisingly arousing. She’d stood for a long minute, watching, until they broke apart.
“Irina,” Karyn calmly said. “This is Michele.”
Karyn had climbed from the bed and brushed back her long wavy hair, exposing breasts Irina had many times enjoyed. Lean as a jackal, every inch of Karyn’s unblemished skin shimmered with the color of cinnamon. Thin lips curved contemptuously, tilted nose with delicate nostrils, cheeks smooth as porcelain. Zovastina had suspected her lover’s cheating, but it was an entirely different matter to witness the act firsthand.
“You’re lucky I don’t have you killed.”
Karyn seemed unconcerned. “Look at him. He cares how I feel, gives without question. You only take. It’s all you know how to do. Give orders and expect them to be obeyed.”
“I don’t recall any complaints from you.”
“Being your whore doesn’t come cheap. I’ve given up things more precious than money.”
Zovastina’s gaze involuntarily drifted to the naked Michele.
“You like him, don’t you?” Karyn said.
She did not answer. Instead, she commanded, “I want you out of here, by night fall.”
Karyn stepped close, the sweet smell of an expensive perfume leading the way. “You really want me to go?” Her hand drifted to Zovastina’s thigh. “Maybe you’d like to take off these clothes and join us.”
She backhanded her lover across the face. Not the first time, but the first time in anger. A trickle of blood oozed from Karyn’s busted lip and hatred stared back at her. “Gone. Before nightfall or, I promise, you’ll not see morning.”
Six years ago. A long time.
Or at least it seemed that way.
She turned the knob and entered.
The bedroom remained adorned with dainty French provincial furniture. A marble-and-gilt-bronze fireplace guarded by a pair of Egyptian porphyry lions decorated one wall. Seemingly out of place was the respirator beside the canopy bed, the oxygen bottle on the other side, and an intravenous bag suspended from a stainless-steel stand, transparent tubes snaking to one arm.
Karyn lay propped on pillows in the center of a queen-size bed, coral silk covers adjusted to her waist. Her flesh was the color of brown ash—her patina like waxed paper. Once-thick blond hair hung tangled, disheveled, thin as mist. Her eyes, which used to flash a vivid blue, now stared out of deep holes like creatures tucked away in caves. Angular cheeks were gone, replaced with a cadaverous gaunt that had transformed her pug nose into aquiline. A lace nightgown graced her emaciated frame as a flag hanging limp on a pole.
“What do you want tonight?” Karyn muttered, the voice brittle and strained. Tubing at her nostrils delivered oxygen with each breath. “Come to see if I’m dead?”
Irina crept close to the four-poster bed. The room’s smell intensified. A sickening mixture of disinfectant, disease, and decay.
“Nothing to say?” Karyn managed, the voice mostly air.
She stared at the woman. Uncharacteristically for her, not a lot of planning had gone into their relationship. Karyn had first been on her staff, then her personal secretary, and finally her concubine. Five years together. Five more apart, until last year when Karyn unexpectedly returned to Samarkand, ill.
“I actually came to see how you were.”
“No, Irina. You came to see when I would die.”
She wanted to say that was the last thing she wanted, but thoughts of Michele and Karyn’s betrayal kept her from any emotional concessions. Instead, she asked, “Was it worth it?”
Zovastina knew that years of unprotected sex, drifting from man to man and woman to woman, taking risks, had finally caught up with Karyn. Along the way, one of them had passed along HIV. Alone, frightened, and broke, last year Karyn had swallowed her pride and returned to the only place she’d thought might provide some comfort.
“Is that why you keep coming?” Karyn asked. “To see me proven wrong?”
“You were wrong.”
“Your bitterness will consume you.”
“This from a person who has literally been consumed by hers.”
“Careful, Irina, you have no idea when I was infected. Maybe I’ll share this misery.”
“I’ve been tested.”
“And what doctor was foolish enough to do that?” A cough racked Karyn’s words. “Is he still alive to tell what he knows?”
“You haven’t answered my question. Was it worth it?”
A smile creased the withdrawn face. “You can’t order me anymore.”
“You came back. You wanted help. I’m helping.”
“I’m a prisoner.”
“You can leave whenever you want.” She paused. “Why can’t you share the truth?”
“And what is the truth, Irina? That you’re a lesbian. Your dear husband knew. He had to. You never speak of him.”
“He’s dead.”
“A convenient car crash. How many times have you played that sympathy card with your people?”
This woman knew far too much of her business, which both attracted and repelled her. Their sense of intimacy, of sharing, had been part of their bond. Here was where, at one time, she could truly be herself. “He knew what was involved when he agreed to marry me. But he was ambitious, like you. He wanted the trappings. And I come with those trappings.”