Nadia sat on her bed with her right arm wrapped around her knees, hugging them to her chest. A little greyish-black fly rested on her left palm, inches from her face. “What were you crying about?” it asked her—at least, the sound of a human voice came from it. A man’s, with an ordinary American accent like you heard on TV. She didn’t see its mouth move, if it even had a mouth.

“Before I answer that, I want you to tell me who you are, little bug.”

“I told you, I’m only controlling this construct,” it huffed back. “I’m a human just like you. But I can’t tell you my real name. You can call me what you want.”

Hmph. A name for somebody who bossed around a talking fly, a secretive person trying to entice her … an ancient sermon of poor Father Fyodor’s came to mind. “Your name is Beelzebub,” she said with a smile. “And you may call me Natasha.”

“Fine,” he answered. “I don’t have that much time to talk, Natasha. If I’m going to help you, I need to know how many of you children are being kept in that castle.”

Nadia lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, but I thought you were good at finding things out? Didn’t you just say that? No, Mr. Spy—Mr. Beelzebub—I will be asking the questions here, since you say I am the one who needs help. How do you make flies like that? A temporary familiar? I have never heard of such a thing.”

The fly hesitated before answering. “It isn’t a familiar, but a totally different technology using stored ectoplasm to make a variety of small, expendable … entities like this one. I use a special device called a versat—“

“I don’t care what it’s called! Can you get me one? That kind of tool would be very helpful.”

Another pause. “Natasha, it’s restricted military technology.”

“But you have one,” she pointed out. “You don’t carry a spare? You can’t make a bigger bug, or a couple of bugs, to bring it to me here? If you’re scared of breaking rules, I’m breaking them just talking to you. I could get in a lot of trouble for this. If I’m taking risks, you can too.”

“It takes several years to learn to use a VRIL effectively,” the bug said flatly, “years you don’t have. You’re in grave danger every day you spend with Titus Marshall.”

“I know he’s trouble. But I have been with him three years, and I am still alive.”

“But it isn’t just him that’s dangerous. One of your—your family members has a primeval familiar, don’t they?”

“A what?”

“A primeval. A familiar with a completely abstract, non-human, non-animal form. They’re unstable and destructive.”

Nadia rolled her eyes. “Are you talking about Yuri? He, and his familiar, have been with the Family as long as I have. He is obnoxious and often cruel, but he does not attack me.”

“Yuri. Is he the boy who was just in this room? The young man with the blond hair?”

“Hey! How long have you been spying on me?”

“Natasha, listen to me. Even among people who work with emissors daily, primevals have a terrible reputation. There’s a reason only the Russians ever made them, and even they don’t anymore; no other country is that reckless. Do you know how familiars are made?”

“Not exactly. Governments pay a lot of money to do it. They do something with a person, and the familiar grows out of the person’s mind. What kind of familiar depends on what kind of person you are.”

“Correct. The details don’t matter for our purposes. But the kind of person who produces a primeval familiar is barely a person at all. Very mentally ill people, the kind of people who get kept in institutions in civilized countries because they can’t take care of themselves. It makes them easier for the Russian government to control, but it also … I don’t know how to explain it.”

Nadia flicked the bug off her palm with a fingertip, stuck out her tongue as he struggled to reorient himself before he hit the floor. “If you’re trying to tell me Shum-Shum is dangerous, Beelzebub, I knew that a long time ago. Yuri only has it because it got carried away and killed its last owner by accident. It also destroyed our home, and the entire city we grew up in. Yes, Shum-Shum is horrible. Thank you for your very helpful message!”

Beelzebub landed on her knee. “I’m sorry, Natasha. I didn’t know.”

“No, you didn’t, did you? You don’t know the first thing about me. You’re just fishing for information, offering advice I don’t need, and making excuses for why you can’t give me what I ask for. So why don’t you tell me why I shouldn’t squash you now and report this whole conversation to Papa Titus?”

“You’re not going to do that. Telling him about this would only make him suspect you, and he frightens you. I can tell.”

“How do you know how he would react? Have you met him? If you have,” she hurried on, before the fly could deny it, “you can only be one of a few people. You’re one of his clients, aren’t you?” She doubted any of the staff could make talking insects.

“Does it matter who I am? You obviously need help from somebody. What’s upsetting you so much?”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Yes, your government would love to hear that, wouldn’t it? So you can keep it in some file somewhere. Do they pay fly-makers a lot of money to interrogate little girls? Will they give you a promotion if I tell you enough of my secrets?”

“It you don’t want to tell me things, I can accept that. Just let me know how I can help you.” the fly said. “I can bring you information about the world outside the castle, or offer you advice for any problems you have.”

“Advice? You just want to use me,” she told it, “the same as Papa Titus. If you really want to help me, get me out of here! Get all of us out of here.”

“I’d like to, believe me.”

“Not to help your government. Not to be kept in a different cage and sent out on different missions where we risk our lives so you, or whoever controls you, can make money off of us. Can you promise me that? Not that I would believe your promise if you gave it. You’re just a talking bug.”

Again Beelzebub hesitated. “I can understand why you wouldn’t trust me,” it said at last. “You have no reason to. But can you at least tell me if there’s anyone in there you feel like you can depend on? I don’t need you to tell me who that person is. I just want to know if there is anyone at all in there you can take your problems to.”

He hadn’t made the promise, she noted. But she thought his question over anyway. There was nobody she could trust with everything that was bothering her, it was true. She could trust some people with some things. Hamza, or Fatima. Ruslan wasn’t good for much, but he would be sympathetic and he probably wouldn’t rat on her. “Maybe.”

“Then go to them. Go to that person. It’s not good for a child your age to not have someone they can talk to. Tell that person everything that’s bothering you, everything you won’t tell me.”

“So you can sneak after me and find out who they are?”

“I won’t. I’ll disintegrate this fly before you do it, if you want. It takes me a long time to get fresh constructs to your position from where I am.”

She’d just be taking the bug’s word for that, of course. And she couldn’t actually dump all this on Ruslan. He couldn’t even handle his own problems. He still wet the bed, for God’s sake. “And what do you want in return for this very generous advice?”

“A list. Think up a list for me, of things you’d like me to do for you if I can. In order of what you want most, then what you’d want next if I can’t do that for you, and so on.”

“That is easy. I can do that now.” She leaned in close and lowered her voice even further. “What I want most: can you kill Papa Titus for me?”

The longest pause yet. “You actually want me to kill your father?”

“He isn’t my father, and yes, I do.” She ignored the sudden thought of Father Fyodor’s horrified face. “Is that a problem … Beelzebub?”

“I might be able to, with your assistance. I don’t know everything he can do to defend himself. If you can give me information on him, it would help a lot.”

“Information? Yes, I thought so. If you can’t kill him, can you at least get us away from him, like I asked you before?”

“Not right away, Natasha. Not while he’s alive.”

“Okay, next on the list. Can you keep me safe during a mission?”

“It’s possible. I’d have to talk to some people, but we might coordinate some kind of assistance to make you safer in the field.”

If Beelzebub was involved with a client, he might have been the one who brought the orders for the Fatih mission in the first place. Which would make this as much his fault as Papa Titus’s. But if he wanted information from her, she might be able to squeeze some favors out of him in return. “Possible. Next … hmm. Can you protect me from Papa Titus?”

“What does he do to you?” the bug asked at once. “Has he been hitting you? Or touching you in other ways?”

“Hitting me? Papa Titus doesn’t need to hit people. He uses Yunks on you. Can you protect me from Yunks?” It was a ridiculous idea, but—

“Yunks is his familiar’s name?”

“Yes. Actually, if you could just destroy her, that would be best of all.”

“I don’t know how to do that. But can I ask you one question, please? When Yunks attacks someone mentally, how long do the effects last?”

Nadia was tempted to squish the bug. “You know somebody Yunks has been chewing on, don’t you? That’s the only reason you would ask. And you’re only bringing it up now? Why on Earth didn’t you ask about that first? What is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you could help. Is there a cure? Will it go away with time?”

“It depends how hard he decided to lean on you. I’ve seen people go totally insane, when they made him very angry. He caught a Praetorian stealing from him three months ago, and went after him for hours, then brought him out and left him in the courtyard. The man sat there for days, not moving or talking, just … lying there with his eyes open. He soiled his pants, but didn’t move. I think he died of thirst.”

“Well, my friend isn’t that bad. I think he’s getting a little better. But it’s been several hours.”

“He will probably get better. But you don’t really get better, all the way, after Yunks goes after you. Not if she does it for real. Every attack breaks you a little more.”

“… I see.”

“And you can’t protect me from her, can you?“

“Actually, I think I can.”

Nadia laughed. “Then why are you asking me about your friend?”

“My friend was unprepared. I wasn’t, but I was in the room with him, and I came through unscathed.”

“Then Yunks wasn’t really after you. You can’t blunt her teeth.”

“I can, and I did,” the fly corrected. “And I can teach the same trick to you. It won’t be easy, it will take longer to learn than you might like, and you must keep it secret from everyone—at least at first. I would get in trouble, very big trouble, if my own masters found out I taught you. But it can be done, and I am willing to teach you. So don’t say I won’t take risks for you.”

“Why didn’t you teach your friend, then?”

“It’s not that simple, Natasha. But my hour is running out, and we probably shouldn’t talk any longer than this at one time anyway. Can I come visit you again sometime, and we’ll discuss this some more? Maybe tomorrow. I won’t talk until I see you’re alone in the room.”

“Hmph. Maybe.” The little vermin was almost certainly lying to lead her on, but if he wasn’t … it was worth a listen. She might at least learn something useful along the way. “Here, let me show you the way out, Beelzebub.”

She reached out, caught the fly between her fingers, and squeezed, hard. It was very satisfying to feel it crunch, watch it crumple and spray out its guts in a mist of white ectoplasm. She blew, and the tiny cloud drifted into the beam of sunlight coming through the window, where it vanished. Evidence gone. He’d told the truth about that, at least.

Nadia found she felt much better now, for some reason. Maybe just talking was all she needed, even if it was to some nasty foreign spy. She stretched, got up from her bed, and gave her icons a little bow. God worked in mysterious ways, didn’t he? Maybe she would go visit Fatima now, and see if they could get some more work in on the dress.