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

became comforting and dulling, it was yanked away from her, and the old dreams of escape stirred, terrifying and inviting.
    "We better go,” Yakov said to her.
    She smiled. “This is how you investigate things? ‘Come on, let's go'? No wonder so many murders are never solved."
    Yakov shrugged, and looked away.
    The barb hurt, and she immediately felt sorry for him. “I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry, my sister is gone, and I just think that perhaps we should look into this."
    "Look into what?” He barked a nervous laugh. “People turning into birds? Doors leading into puddles? Crazies?” He indicated Fyodor with a toss of his head. “How do you propose we investigate something like that?"
    "We could try and go through that door,” she said.
    Yakov shook his head. “It's just a reflection."
    "Your pet would beg to differ. Are you just going to abandon your bird?"
    "He's a wild bird,” Yakov said. “In any case, suppose you're right. What the fuck could be behind that door?"
    Galina thought for a bit. Her childhood imaginings of unicorns and fairies seemed far-fetched-why would there be unicorns and fairies under this dark city that towered over them, surrounded them from all sides with its suffocating stone and metal? What good could hide under it? “I don't know,” she said. “But I'm sure it'll shed some light on what happened to Masha."
    Yakov threw his hands into the air and paced around the puddle. “How do you even know that this has anything to do with your sister? Because this lunatic told you so?"
    "I'm not a lunatic,” Fyodor interjected.
    Galina ignored him. “There are two very strange things happening at the same time and you don't think they have anything to do with one another?"
    "It's possible,” Yakov said. “But-"
    His words were interrupted by a soft whistling that came from every direction at once. A second later, a great cloud of birds entered the yard, their wings beating against the thick night air. Galina covered her face and hunched over-the birds on the roof were too fresh in her memory.
    The birds gave her no notice, and flew straight through the puddle, disappearing without a trace; only a few crows still hung in the air, their voices harsh.
    "Now what do you think?” Galina straightened.
    "All right,” Yakov said. “They're connected. But we can't go in there-when you reached into the puddle, nothing happened, remember? It was just a puddle."
    "Exactly,” Fyodor said. “You reached into the puddle. You saw it, not the door. But anyway, this one would be too small for us."
    Galina looked over the reflection. “Where would we find a bigger one?"
    "I know a place,” Fyodor said. “It's big. Only I never saw anyone going in or out of there."
    "Where is it?” Yakov asked.
    "Not far,” Fyodor said. “In a subway station-Arbatskaya, I think. Or Smolenskaya, who the fuck knows the difference."
    "On the dark-blue line, or the light-blue?” Galina asked.
    Fyodor only shrugged and headed out of the courtyard, under the arch, his back lopsided in the wind.
    Subway, Galina thought. She always knew it would be a subway, and once again she lamented her lack of persistence. All this time she thought she was delusional, while in reality she wasn't delusional enough to keep the hope alive.
    Yakov caught up to her; the flap of his messenger bag gaped open, as if distraught. “It was just a crow I found,” he said. “Not a pet."
    "And the puddle was just a puddle,” she replied. “Do you always backpedal like this? Every time something significant happens you just tell yourself it isn't important?"
    He thought for a bit. “Yes,” he admitted. “It's easier that way."
    Galina nodded. “It is. I do it too, sometimes. Sorry."
    "I am here in the middle of the night, ain't I?” he said.
    His defensiveness surprised her. She was used to the police as enforcers, at least in the old days. Now, they seemed superfluous and helpless, struggling against the tide all of them were