Reserved for the Cat

Nor did they. And generous payment in advance practically guaranteed discreet silence about the mysterious Russian lady, though according to her servants, rumors flew about the dining room that she was a duchess, even a grand duchess, or at least a countess.

Having established a headquarters, she went about obscuring her magical existence, for a very brief foray into the Elemental realms told her that the imposter was somehow involved with both a Fire Master and an Air Master. Discretion was definitely in order, and caution, and a great deal of covering her tracks. She had plenty of practice in that. There was not an Elemental Master on the planet that would be happy about one of the Elementals achieving what she had done in escaping her bonds. They would be even less happy if they knew how she was sustaining herself outside the Earth Realm. Dangerous. Very dangerous.

That took several days. One more thing was needed; knowledge. This was not her land, nor her language, nor were any of those she had absorbed familiar with England, much less this particular city. She sent out her maid one night to find and bring back someone who would not be missed.

It took only a moment to absorb the ragged street urchin, who gave her a street-urchin’s command of the English language, and a street-urchin’s knowledge of the city. Only then was she prepared to go and have a look at her imposter.

And she did not do that as “Anna Vronsky,” either.

It was a very good thing to have servants that were not human—and were totally under her control. There was no curiosity to contend with when she sent out her maid to buy a second-hand men’s suit, nor when she assumed the face and figure of one of the poets she had consumed. Carrying a stack of empty boxes, as if she had just made a delivery, Nina left the hotel by the service entrance without anyone looking at her twice.

Then it was a simple matter to dispose of the boxes and make her way to the theater where her imposter was dancing. She bought a cheap balcony seat, and sat, un-smiling and unmoving, through the entire performance.

Grudgingly, she had to admit that the little trollop was good. Quite good. And it was clear that she was an audience favorite. Of course, the mobs of holiday goers in the theater were quite prepared to be pleased with just about anything they were given, provided it was novel and amusing enough. And it was quite clear just who and what the girl had purloined her dances from, even if most, if not all, of the audience had never seen Loie Fuller or Isadora Duncan. Nor had they even heard of the dancers except as the subject of articles in newspapers.

After the performance, Nina went back to the stage door, and loitered, listening to the gossip among the stagehands. Here her knowledge of the language was perfect; she fit right in. And her knowledge of backstage life allowed her, eventually, to slip around to the theater pub, pay for two bottles of cheap champagne, and get in backstage by pretending she was a delivery person. One bottle was destined to be delivered to a woman who sang popular songs, and the other to a comedian, both with notes of congratulation and an unreadable signature attached. But having them gave her all the excuse she needed to linger backstage—

She learned that the imposter was very popular with the backstage workers. That was awkward, because by her nature, she had a great many limitations as to what she could and could not do. She could easily influence someone whose mind was already tending in a direction she wanted it to go, but it was the next thing to impossible to influence them in the opposite direction. There were also disadvantages to being tied up in very mortal form; she could not manifest in the girl’s flat and simply absorb her. She would have to somehow get within embracing range of her, and remain private with her for as long as it took to absorb her. There would be no finding allies back here, and the girl was too well-guarded to think of a direct approach.

She also learned that the imposter had so thoroughly ingratiated herself with the theater management that an enormous production was being planned solely around her. So there would be no hope in disenchanting the management with her, either. . . .

Nina would have to think of an entirely different plan of attack.

With that in mind, she left the bottles of champagne with their surprised and gratified recipients, and returned to her hotel. Once there, she got the boxes from where she had hidden them, then applied at the service entrance for admission to her own suite. The room was rung for permission, the maid gave it, and Nina took herself back up to her quarters and assumed her rightful form.