PROLOGUE
“Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.”
Willam Shakespeare
The Tempest (Act 1, Scene 2)
PART I
Katarina
Then
“Katarina, there’s a young man here to see you,” my mother called from the sitting room as I let myself into the small apartment we called home.
I locked the door and took my shoes off, nerves gathering in my belly.
A young man? Who?
Who do you think? Your stalker. The one who will curse you to hell,the voice inside my head said in her ethereal tone. The damn voice that had appeared a few months ago.
I hadn’t told a soul about it except my local doctor, and my mother, though I was regretting that already. I didn’t want people to think I was going mad, and my mother was eyeing me lately like I was possessed. She was probably planning on booking me an exorcism or something. Dr. Blackwood had given me several reasons why the voice might be happening: stress, anxiety, bad sleep... there were plenty of possible causes.
I was certainly under stress, with my final teaching exams coming up at the end of the semester, after which I’d be qualified to get a job at a real school. I couldn’t wait. I had to eat something and get studying tonight. I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of finishing my degree, especially not some local smooth talker who had for some reason decided that I was “the one.”
I drew my shoulders back and walked into the sitting room, freezing at the sight before me.
I was used to the religious artifacts on the walls. My mother was a devout woman, and one glance at her house would prove it. She’d never met a picture of a saint she didn’t think wall-worthy.
What I hadn’t expected to see was Father Vargas, the head of our local church, sitting next to the skinny guy who had been the bane of my existence for nearly a year.
Ivan Markovic.
My mother sprang to her feet as soon as I walked in.
“You’re late,” she said, a hint of worry in her tone.
Whether it was concern for me or worry over keeping esteemed guests waiting, I wasn’t sure.
“I had to pick some books up from the library,” I explained, unwinding my scarf and giving Father Vargas a tentative smile. “Father. What brings you here?”
He sighed and tilted his head to the side. “This is a delicate topic, but I want you to know, Katarina, that I’m here for you and your mother. This is what I’m here for. Ivan has brought your situation to my attention, and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t help.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” I managed to get out, my gaze flying to Ivan’s. “Can we talk?”
He followed me out to the hall while my mother pressed tea and cookies on Father Vargas.
“What’s going on? Why is Father Vargas here?” I asked Ivan, bewildered.
Ivan slouched against the hallway wall and eyed my skirt-and-tights combo with ill-disguised disgust.
Nearly a year ago, we’d been on one date, at which he’d told me, as soon as I’d showed up, that my dress was more suited to a whore than a woman who wanted to teach kids. For me, that had been the end of it. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for Ivan.
“He’s my uncle, didn’t I mention that before?” Ivan said.
I shook my head. “No, you didn’t, and regardless, it doesn’t explain why he’s here.”
Ivan sighed. “You remember how I told you that you’d regret turning me down?”