Angelopolis A Novel Page 0,36

a century. He felt as desperate, and as childish, as Hansel following a path of shiny pebbles.

“You will eat something,” Nadia said. “And then we will talk.”

“I don’t know if we have time for that,” Verlaine said.

“I remember how hard Vladimir worked,” she said quietly. “He would be out on a mission for days at a time without eating properly. He would return to me exhausted. Eat, and then you can tell me why you’ve come.”

As if her words brought him back to his body, Verlaine felt a sharp shock of hunger, and he realized he hadn’t so much as thought of food since before his encounter with Evangeline. How strange it would feel, he thought, to be like Evangeline, a creature suspended above the physical needs of human beings. Even hours after seeing her he felt a sharp need to be near her. He had to find her, and, once he did, to understand her. Where was she now? Where had Eno brought her? He saw Evangeline in his mind, her pale skin and dark hair, the way she had looked at him on the rooftop in Paris. The brittle exterior he had developed in his work cracked a little more with every thought of her. He needed to steel his resolve if he was to have any hope of finding her.

Nadia cleared a set of encyclopedias from a slate tabletop and, opening a trunk, removed a stack of porcelain bowls and a handful of silver spoons, which she wiped with a cloth as she laid the table. The woman who had lit the fire returned some minutes later with a tureen of kasha and then a platter of cured salmon. She poured water into a samovar by the tea cupboard, turned it on, and left the room.

The very smell of food made Verlaine ravenous. As they ate, refilling their soup bowls until the tureen was empty, he could feel his body become warm, his strength and energy returning. Nadia took a dusty bottle of Bordeaux from an armoire, opened it, and filled their glasses with wine the color of crushed blackberries. Verlaine took a sip, tasting the fruit and tannin prick his tongue.

He could sense Nadia was watching them, studying their gestures, assessing their body language. She was someone who understood the work of angelologists, who had seen the best of their kind in action. She was deciding if she could trust them.

Finally, she said, “I understand that you were with Vladimir during his last mission.”

“Bruno and I were with him in New York,” Verlaine answered.

“Can you tell me if he was buried?” Her voice was so quiet he had to strain to hear her. “I’ve been trying to get information from the academy, but they won’t confirm anything.”

“He was cremated,” Bruno said. “His ashes are being held in New York.”

Nadia bit her lip, thinking this over, and said, “I would like to ask a favor of you. Could you help me get them transported to Russia? I would like to have them with me.”

Bruno nodded, and in the austerity of the gesture, Verlaine could almost taste the regret over what had happened to Nadia’s husband.

She stood and left the room, returning with a pear tart, which she cut into slices and served on gilded dessert plates, releasing the scent of caramelized sugar and cloves. She dispensed the tea from the samovar, pouring it into teacups shaped like tulips.

“Nadia, there is a specific reason that we came to you,” Bruno said.

“I gathered that there was something on your mind.” She straightened in her chair as Bruno gave her the Cherub with Chariot Egg wrapped in cloth.

Nadia slid a pair of reading glasses onto her nose and, pulling the cloth away, examined the egg, her hands shaking. Her face became flushed; her eyes brightened. Verlaine could see that she was struggling to contain her reactions.

“Where did you get this?” she asked at last, her voice filled with excitement.

“It was found among Vladimir’s effects by your daughter and, by various twists and turns over the past twenty-four hours, came into our possession,” Verlaine explained, glancing at Bruno, to see how much information he could divulge.

“We believe that Angela Valko gave it to Vladimir,” Bruno said.

“Perhaps with the intention that he would hold it for Evangeline,” Verlaine added.

“They brought it to me, at the Hermitage, and I was able to help them identify it as one of the missing Fabergé eggs,” Vera said.

“Now I understand why you are here,” Nadia said,