The Secret History of Moscow by Ekaterina Sedia Read Free Book Online Page A

reflection the door glowed with a milky light.
    "Watch,” Fyodor said. They did, until their eyes weren't sure if they were looking at the reflection or at the real door-the still surface of the puddle completed the illusion of absolute darkness surrounding an upside-down door, hung in empty space for no particular purpose. Then the door started to open, slowly.
    "Don't look up,” Fyodor said. “Don't look at the real thing. Watch the reflection-this is what's important."
    The door swung open and blackened with a multitude of starlings-they came screeching from the door in the puddle into the night air above their heads, with no transition and no trace of water on the glistening feathers.
    The crow in Yakov's bag cawed in recognition and flapped its wings. The thing couldn't fly, but that didn't stop it from trying. Before Yakov could stuff him back, the crow strained and flapped, and fell. It made no ripples on the surface as it fell through the door in the puddle and disappeared from view.
    4: Entrance
    Galina looked at Yakov who stared, slack-jawed, at the puddle that had just swallowed his crow. She made a shallow gesture of poking in the puddle, but felt only water and muck on her fingers, and no crow. The reflection of the door bobbed on the waves she raised, and broke into slivers sharply outlined in the moon-white, rippling across the surface.
    "Maybe you should go after your bird,” Fyodor told Yakov. His dark eyes reflected the burning ember of his cigarette, and as he dragged on it the flashes of orange light lit his hollow face.
    "Go where?” Yakov said.
    Fyodor motioned at the puddle, it surface calm again. The door in the puddle was closed.
    Galina looked from one man to the other. They were all at an impasse-it seemed equally absurd to deny the crow's disappearance or the reflected door's ability to admit things somewhere else. Galina was used to strange happenings, but having someone to share them with her was a new experience. She felt exposed, defenseless without the comforting blanket of madness that would hide her from things she didn't want to see, explain them away-much as people with cats had no reason to fear the night sounds haunting their houses. It's just the cat, they would tell themselves even when the feline was sleeping peacefully at the foot of the bed. There's nothing to worry about.
    There was something to worry about, Galina thought. She waited for Yakov to say something-of the three of them he seemed the most balanced, the most normal. Perhaps this is why he still remained transfixed, his eyes panicked. “You said he would know something about the disappearances."
    "You don't think this puddle has anything to do with people turning into birds?” Galina said.
    "People don't turn into birds,” Yakov answered. “It was just an illusion, a trick of light-it was so windy out."
    "You saw it,” Galina said. “You saw it too."
    Yakov didn't answer, and Galina stared at the upside down door in the puddle. Still closed, she realized with a pang. The same twinge of disappointment she felt when she would spend hours sitting in a subway station, watching the dark hole of the tunnel, waiting for something to happen. She didn't know what it was about the subways-perhaps the fact that they were carved into a dark wet heart of the earth-that made them so magical. But she used to have an unshakeable conviction that they were the way to a hidden world where she could escape.
    Maybe she didn't try hard enough, waited long enough-she left the station when the subway closed, instead of hiding and waiting overnight. She headed straight home instead of wandering through the night city until the sky pinked and the long stationary clouds grew translucent. She didn't want it bad enough.
    The desire was bled out of her over time, from one hospital to the next, from one diagnosis to another, until she was convinced of her own insanity for even thinking that escape was possible. And now, when the insanity