Katya Borozova and the Door to Somewhere

Katya Borozova and the Door to Somewhere

Katya had always possessed the suspicion that she might be somewhat odd. It had started when she was very young, picking up bugs in the courtyard of the Volkov manor. She’d found them fascinating, but Natalya just looked down at her in disgust, and Marie had run screaming when she held one up to show them.

It had only gotten worse as she’d gotten older, especially after their father died, when death entered the equation of her life. And then there was everything that came after. But she didn’t like to think about those days.

It got better, of course, after everything had happened and what remained of her family had come to dwell in the city. It wasn’t as strange there for a girl to be interested in anatomy, and bugs, and small rodents. As strange being the operative word. She was just often viewed as weird, or slightly creepy than the actual spawn of the devil. She learned very quickly how to appear normal; Katya never would have gotten through school otherwise.

She’d finally been able to go to a proper one, just like Jack and Mikhail, but she quickly realized that it wasn’t the bastion of learning she thought it would be. Most of her classmates didn’t even want to be there. Katya already stuck out with her thick accent and limited English skills, so she couldn’t afford to have anything else “wrong with her.”

It didn’t help who her guardian was. Mikhail had taken one look at the capitalist future he’d been fighting against manifested before his eyes and immediately rejected it. There was only one option for those who wanted to exist outside of society, and that was to exist outside the law as well.

Katya never really knew what he did for the first few years. He tried to keep her as far away from it all as possible. All she knew was that Marie didn’t like it, and sometimes Jack helped him. She had no idea what he helped with, but she worried about how it might be affecting him. He hadn’t really been… the same since they’d been reunited.

Maybe that was why she was so curious to see. The day they dragged a strange man through the house and down into the basement, Katya wasn’t even supposed to be home. But she’d been feeling under the weather that morning and had stayed in bed.

She didn’t let them see her, but waited until they’d slammed the door behind them. Then, with a glass she’d grabbed from the kitchen pressed against it, she sat down on the other side of the aperture and listened intently.

“I have no ‘beef’ with you,” that was Mikhail speaking. “I prefer a policy of non-violence whenever possible.”

“Fuck you, buddy,” came a voice that Katya wasn’t familiar with. “You know what they’ll do to me if I tell you.”

“The same thing we’re about to do if you don’t. All I want is the location of the drugs your gang stole.”

“I ain’t scared of you, ya commie bastard.”

“Then I guess that means it’s my turn,” Jack finally spoke, and the wall next to Katya vibrated slightly, like he’d just pushed off of it. “Listen, mate. It’ll be much easier for everybody involved if you just told us what we wanted to know.”

“Oh, yeah, real intimidating, sicking a real, proper english gentleman on me. What are you gonna do, make me sit through a tea party?”

“It’ll be a party, alright, but not for you.”

“Well do you worst, then,” the man spit audibly, and then there was a very long, very terrible silence. Katya held her breath, though she wasn’t sure why. Though she couldn’t describe exactly how, it was clear that something in the air had changed.

“Go ahead,” Mikhail finally broke the silence, immediately before a sudden noise sent a shiver right down Katya’s spine. It took her a solid minute to realize that it was a laugh, and that it was most likely coming from Jack’s throat.

“Alright then, mate. Looks like you and me are going to have some real fun.”

And then the screaming began.

Katya’s eyes widened, horrified, and yet she didn’t move from her spot on the other side of the door. She stayed there, listening all the while as just below her a man was being tortured.

Eventually, the screams faded into whimpers, and then into silence. It stayed that way for a long time.

“I’ll take him to a hospital,” Mikhail’s voice cut through the air, and almost immediately, there were footsteps pounding up the stairs towards her.

Katya bolted down the hallway and into the kitchen. Mikhail would be angry if he found out she’d been listening.

But it wasn’t Mikail who stumbled up and through. Jack slammed the door behind him and collapsed against it, breathing heavily. He looked like he was about to throw up. His face was pale, and his white shirt was covered in blood. Katya was pretty sure it wasn’t his.

She didn’t know why she did it, maybe to comfort him, or ask what he’d been doing, but Katya opened the kitchen door, and took a step into the hallway.

At the sudden creak, Jack’s head shot up. “Katya?” he asked, his voice coming out gruffer than she was used to. “What are you doing here?”

“Are… are you alright?” she asked, confused as his expression turned almost… fearful, and took another few steps towards him.

“N-not now, Katya,” he stuttered. “I can’t… can’t see you right now.”

Against his wishes, she kept approaching. “Why?” she asked. “What’s—?”

“Get the fuck away from me!” he almost growled at her, his face contorting into a wild anger she had never seen before.

She jumped as he nearly lunged forward, and ran all the way back up to her room. The rest of the day she hid under the covers and trembled. Something was gravely wrong with her beloved Monsieur Steel, and she couldn’t help the notion sticking in her head that it was her fault.

He never really recovered his old self. There were moments of it, sure, but those little hints of sunshine became few and far between as the months went on, until it seemed like there was almost nothing left of him. And then one day he was just gone. That was another thing that Katya didn’t like to think about.

Mikhail managed without him, and over the next few years his criminal activities grew into a business. He and Katya and Marie were able to move into a nice house in a nice neighborhood, and he didn’t have to drag people into their basement anymore. He had plenty of other places for that.

Except the one time, of course. Mikhail was clearly flustered, and out of sorts. Maybe the house was the closest location. Whatever the reason, when Katya came home from her private school, she walked through the door to see a man bruised, bloody, and tied up in the dining room, and beyond that, a group of anxious gangsters were milling around in the parlor.

“It’s a difficult situation,” one of them was trying to comfort Mikhail, who was simply shaking his head.

“If only Jack was here…” he muttered.

“What’s going on?” Katya asked from the doorway, her backpack half off her shoulders. “Why is there a man tied up in the dining room?”

“Katya,” Mikhail sighed. Clearly he’d forgotten about her. “This is no place for—”

She frowned. “You can’t drag the entire family into my house and tell me it’s none of my business. Explain.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Mikhail stood and pulled her aside. “It’s…” he struggled. “It’s Maria. She’s been… taken hostage.”

“What?” Katya’s heart skipped a beat. “By who? Is it those fucking Mirelli bastards?”

“Katya! Language!”

“Do you really think now is the time to be lecturing me?” She felt her temperature rising, and backed down. This was not the time for anger. “So, that man in the dining room…”

“Da. We got one. But they won’t do a trade. I guess they think she’s worth more than him.”

“They’d be right!”

“So we’ve been trying to get her location from him, but the bastard won’t talk. I’m afraid if we do anything more we might kill him.”

“That’s why you were talking about Jack,” she thought for a moment, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She’d made up her mind. “Let me do it,” she said finally.

It took Mikhail a second to even comprehend what she’d said. “What? Why would you—?”

“Well, there’s no one else, is there?” her gaze was steady. “Jack’s gone, after all. I… I never told you but… I listened. Almost every single time you and Jack dragged someone down to that basement, I sat on the other side of that door.”

“Katya, you…” he was clearly at a loss for what to say. He almost looked a little scared. But he shook himself. “No, I can’t ask a fifteen-year-old girl to torture a gangster.”

“She might be your wife, but she’s my sister, dammit!” Katya finally exploded, before looking away down at the floor. “Besides, we both know that I can break bones more elegantly than you or Jack ever could.”

Mikhail stared down at her, searching her gaze, and she stared back, unwavering.

Eventually, he relented. Though he insisted on coming with her.

For how beat up he was, the Mirelli thug they had tied up in the dining room was surprisingly cognizant. When Katya entered the room with Mikhail in tow, he looked surprised.

“And who’s this, Borozov?” he asked groggily.

Mikhail made to answer, but Katya didn’t let him. “My name is Katya Borozova. Maria is my sister.”

The Mirelli blinked. Then his face split as he started laughing. Katya just stood and waited until he was done. “Let me guess,” he attempted in between fits. “You’re here to beg for her life, right? Tell me how much she means to you and give me puppy-dog eyes? Interesting strategy, Borozov.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” she said quietly, and the smile fell off of his face. Though she wasn’t planning on using it, she grabbed a scalpel from a tray on the table and checked to see how sharp it was.

He started to laugh again, but there was a palpable nervousness to it. “Borozov,” he mumbled. “What kind of joke is this?”

“It’s not one,” he said gravely, as he moved back towards the wall to give Katya space.

She thought that she would be feeling nauseous by this point at the very least, but her entire body seemed invaded by a terrible, cold calm. “You’re going to tell me where you’re holding my sister,” she stated, setting the knife down and approaching him empty-handed.

“Or what?”

Katya didn’t say a word. She just grabbed his bound hands, gripped one of his fingers firmly, and wrenched it back. There was a terrible popping sound, and the Mirelli couldn’t help but cry out.

“Do you know how many joints you have on each hand?” she asked calmly. When he didn’t answer, she grabbed his middle finger and cracked that one back as well. “Well? Tell me.”

“Fuck, I… fifteen?”

“Incorrect.” There went the ring finger as well. By this point he was sweating bullets. “There are actually twenty-seven. That’s fifty-four between both hands, and if you somehow make it though me dislocating every single one, we can always start on your toes. Although I will warn you…” she got a firm grip on his horribly mangled index finger and violently snapped it back into place. “...It hurts a lot more going back in.”

This time he really did scream.

To his credit, she got through nearly all the joints at the base of his fingers before he finally talked. It was probably the thought of having to pop all of them back into place more than the actual pain itself, but fear was half the technique, after all.

As soon as he spilled the location, Mikhail went about assembling a rescue posse and Katya slipped away in the confusion. Calmly, she walked all the way across the house and up to her room, only to collapse just on the other side of her door.

Desperately, she dug her hands into the tangles of her rug, trying to keep herself on top of it, trying not to find herself in a cold, dark cellar. There had been so many she’d faced down there with a knife in her hand. So many limbs she’d cut, lives she’d ended. And after all these years she’d been able to just flip it back on, just like a switch.

She’d thought she’d learned how to be a person again, but once something was broken, it was impossible to put it all back together again, not in the same way it was when you’d found it.

Katya shuddered violently. She was still in that cellar. She was never getting out. And it was only then she realized why she always listened to Jack at that basement door.

Because that thing she’d done to him? That terrible thing that had never left her mind? It had made him just like her.

She never tortured anyone for Mikhail after that, and he never asked. In fact, they both seemed to be in agreement that Katya should keep as far away from the whole business as possible. She tried to be normal. It was never something she was quite able to manage.

College was a little better than high school. At least most people in the forensics anthropology department at Crowley College were interested in learning. Still, it wasn’t exactly what she had been hoping for. Katya still felt out of place, odd. She found herself keeping her mouth shut for fear that her peers would look at her like Natalya had all those years ago.

That was, at least, until she met Professor Odel. He was even more odd than she was, somehow. Stiff, uptight, maybe even a little pretentious. Most of the student body hated him, and even more grumbled about why an Occult Studies credit was even a requirement for their major.

Katya wondered, however, if a lot of that brusqueness was really a front for a somewhat awkward interior. Of course, she only developed this hunch in the first place because parking on campus was next to impossible. Not that Katya really cared, as her apartment was only a five minute walk away, but Odel often ended up parking in that same area and so they found themselves sometimes walking to the same place at the same time.

At first their conversations were perfunctory and awkward, but over time they discovered a few commonalities. Even if their fields were different, they both loved the act of discovery.

In all honesty, Katya didn’t think he was a bad professor, either. He explained things in interesting ways, and respected the students enough to not give out busywork. She had a free credit she needed to fill and ended up taking another of his classes the next semester.

It got to the point where one day after class he approached her and stated bluntly: “You know you’re halfway to an Occult Studies minor.”

Needless to say, she ended up taking more of his classes. Eventually it felt like she was friends with him more than any of her peers, as much as anyone could be friends with Odel. Sometimes if she knew that she had his last class of the day, she’d wait around a few minutes and they’d walk back together.

One afternoon he finally asked her why she bothered, and she ended up talking just a bit about how odd she felt she was.

“I think you need advice from someone more knowledgeable than me,” he frowned, blunt as always. But the next day of class he set a book in front of her and told her he thought it would help.

It was a tome of occult rituals for summoning various… things. Of course is was. Katya felt stupid for even considering another possibility.

She hesitated at first, to use it. Not because of the reasons most people would. Quite the opposite, in fact. Katya had seen rituals like these first hand, and she knew just how well they worked. But Odel had one bookmarked, and all it did was summon a spirit and bind it just long enough to answer one question. It was a risk, and if she was honest she should really just go to therapy. But if she was really honest with herself, this sounded much easier. And as a college student, she really had nothing better to do.

So one weekend she drove far out of town to one of the Borozov safe-houses, and convinced a farmer to sell her a live chicken.

It didn’t stay living for long.

And it was there, on a rough wood floor covered with blood and feathers and candles, that Katya took a knife, cut her own arm, and waited.

She didn’t have to wait for long. One by one, the candles flickered out as a hard, cold wind buffeted Katya from all sides. It reminded her of the winter winds back in Russia. But that was good. That’s how she knew it was working.

A cool, blue light began to flicker to life in the center of the room, growing stronger as each of the candles went out, and after a moment, it began to speak.

“Unbelievable,” was all it said.

But it didn’t need to say more. Katya would have recognized it anywhere. It was a voice she hadn’t heard in a very long time, and never wanted to again.

Of course it was just her luck that of all the spirits, all of the daemons she could have summoned to answer her question, it had to be the one who was already at the heart of it all.

“Na… Natalya.”

“I haven’t used that name in a very long time.”

“I know you by no other.”

There came a bored, directionless sigh. “Of all the people in this entire cosmos, you have to be the one to summon me, now of all times.”

“I’m very happy to see you again too,” Katya grimaced, shaking a little, despite herself. “Don’t worry, I won’t be keeping you for long.”

“You only have one question, yes? And no commands.”

“That’s right.”

“Well then, spit it out, you little maggot.”

Katya cringed involuntarily. Even after all these years, that voice could still affect her this badly. It was pathetic. She shook herself and straightened. “Perhaps I’ll just leave you there, until the ritual runs its course.”

“Neither you nor I have the time for that.”

“Why would I want to ask you when you caused the question in the first place?”

“Ahh, I see. As usual, blaming me for all your troubles, Katyusha. I will have you know that I may have tormented you, but you were already a vile creature from the moment I first set eyes on you. But go on, ask your question, and I will once again solve your problem for you.”

“Bullshit,” Katya spat out through clenched teeth. “That circle will make you tell the truth, and I want to hear it from your mouth. So just what is it that’s wrong with me?”

There was another sigh, like Katya had ruined her fun. “Fine. Your problem, Katya Borozova, is not with me, or with you. It’s that you simply do not belong here.”

“Excuse me?”

“This reality is not the correct one for you. Not if you want to find true happiness. Just like your precious Monsieur Steel, if you want to find it, you’ll have to leave.”

As much as she was loathe to admit it, that did make some sort of sense. Unlike Mikhail or even Marie, she’d never been able to adapt to life in the city. Not really, inside.

“But how do I do that?” she asked. “I’m not like Jack. I can’t just… disappear.”

“You only get one question, but if you would let me finish. I know a place where you can go, and I will even open a doorway for you. But only on one condition.”

Katya waited.

“You will never pester me ever again.”

“It wasn’t as if it was on purpose…”

“Do we have a deal?”

She was maybe a bit ashamed to admit just how little she had to think about it. The only things tying her to this place anymore was Mikhail and Marie, after all. And if Jack could open a door and Natalya could as well, then Katya was sure she could find her own way back when she wanted to.

Besides, she had no idea what was waiting on the other side. And that was exciting.

“Yes, fine. We have a deal.”

“See? I am not such a bad sister, after all...”