Anna clenched her fists as she followed Igor into the entryway of his house, determined not to let anything else cloud her judgement of him.

However, that changed when she glanced around at her surroundings, and noticed they seemed just as impressive on a second viewing. An intricate carpet of red, blue and gold covered the floor. It was unlike the worn-out rugs she had known as a child, so she asked Igor about its origin and the skilled artisan who no doubt must have had a hand in producing such a masterpiece.

"I purchased it from a vendor hailing from the Caucasus," Igor replied. "That region is home to some of the best weavers in the world."

Anna relaxed her hands. "I've never heard of it, but it must be a wonderful place." She stepped forward, only to receive a seething glare from Igor.

"This carpet cost me a whole day's wages. I can't have you soiling it with street filth."

"Oh." Anna dragged her foot back past the threshold as her stomach pooled with worry.

Igor approached the shelf by the door and grabbed a pair of black leather boots, which he then tossed in front of her. "Wear these instead. If they don't fit, let Katya know and she'll find a pair that do."

With her head bowed in shame, Anna forced her feet out of the frayed shoes that absorbed water whenever it rained and slipped into the boots. She wriggled her toes in an effort to reach the vamps, but it seemed like the boots were indeed too large.

"Are they alright?"

"They're perfect," Anna lied through her teeth, afraid to disappoint Igor again. "I couldn't ask for more."

"Very well." Igor turned to face the staircase. "Katya! Come down at once! The new girl awaits your instruction!"

His deep and commanding voice filled Anna with an odd sense of relief. It was easier to hate a tyrant than the gentle soul who had saved her as a child, so a part of her hoped he was finally showing a glimpse of his true self.

"Why, good morning, Anna Vasilyeva," Katya greeted after descending the stairs. "I didn't believe you would return so soon, but I must say, you look prettier than yesterday. Anger is never flattering on a young woman."

Anna felt her mouth twitch as Igor removed a black coat from the rack standing opposite the shoe shelf. He slipped it on and gave Katya his attention.

"I must head off to the clinic, so I'll leave her to you. See to it that she becomes accustomed to this house in no time."

Katya waved him goodbye. "I shall, sir."

Igor presented a smile, though his eyes remained stern. Then, he put on his hat and swung the glossy umber door closed on his way out. Once he was gone, Katya lowered her hand and wrinkled her nose at Anna.

"How long has it been since you last bathed? You smell horrid."

Anna remembered the customary practice of her uncle washing first, followed by aunt Nadya, then cousin Kolya, and finally her. "Three days?"

Katya brought a chafed hand to her mouth and gasped. "My goodness. No wonder..." She advanced towards the polished wooden stairs, dragging Anna along. "Come with me at once. I'll run a bath and get you a clean dress to wear. A maid must know how to take care of herself before she tends to the house."

******

Anna's attempt to sit still and become lost in the comfort of a warm and soapy bath was cut short when Katya scrubbed at her back with a coarse brush. She kicked and screamed, splashing water in all directions and leaving the floor soaked when the ordeal was over.

"You're more unruly than a stray cat," Katya remarked while patting her dry. "In fact, one might think you were raised by wolves."

"I didn't want to drown." Anna brought her arms close to stop herself from shivering.

"You wouldn't have if you'd just kept still." Katya hung up the towel and glanced at the folded garments upon the vanity. "I'll let you get dressed. Please join me when you're ready."

Anna donned the grey dress and apron to the best of her ability. She ventured out of the bathroom, where Katya insisted on smoothing out her sleeves and retying the apron strings before she was shown Igor's bedchamber.

It was austerely furnished, containing only a bed, wardrobe, and a chest of drawers. The alabaster walls looked dull even in the bronze morning light, so Anna promised herself that she'd paint them a more festive colour if she ever had the authority to do so.

"Mister Morozov always keeps his chamber locked, so today is quite the exception. But I would still advise you never to go through his personal belongings. It wasn't until I met him that I learned men can be just as vigilant of their privacy as us women."

"How long has he lived in Saint Petersburg?" Anna asked while following Katya up a shorter flight of stairs that led to the attic.

"Five years."

"And how long have you been working for him?"

"Three. He had a preference for older ladies when he hired me."

"That's funny."

"Indeed." Katya pointed at the cot lying by one of the arched windows. "That is where you will sleep. Any questions?"

Anna nodded. "Will I receive Sundays off?"

"Of course. Mister Morozov may not always look it, but he is a God-fearing man. He attends church every week and kisses the icons to show his veneration."

Anna swallowed. If what Katya said was true, then it would be a wholly corrupt act to bring any kind of suffering upon Mister Morozov. She searched her mind for something else that might expose him as a sinner. "I have another question."

"Yes?"

"What exactly does Mister Morozov want with me?"

Katya groaned and crossed her arms. "I don't know. I can only assume he wishes to look at a pretty young thing for once."

"Oh." Anna felt a sliver of triumph, though she hid it well beneath her straight face. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I've been wanting to retire anyway, so I may look after my grandchildren and take a burden off my daughter-in-law's shoulders."

Anna remembered being entrusted with watching over Kolya whenever her aunt was occupied at the factory. "I understand. I've taken care of a child myself."

"Then I suppose we are kindred spirits." Katya beamed as they departed the attic. "Are you married or engaged, by any chance?"

"No. I haven't been wooed by anyone yet."

"That's unfortunate. How old are you?"

"Eighteen, but I should turn nineteen this spring."

"I see. Mister Morozov is twenty-five years of age, but he has yet to find himself a wife. I think you'd be a fine choice if it weren't for your lowly background."

Anna's shoulders hunched as she let out a strained little laugh. "Oh, really? Are you sure he isn't older?"

"I'm certain of it. A man born in eighteen seventy-six would surely be that age, would he not?"

Anna was no mathematician, so she frowned and gave the matter a rest. Katya led her back down to the entryway, where they proceeded to the kitchen.

"We'll begin with some cleaning, then I'll show you how to prepare one of Mister Morozov's favourite dishes."

"Rabbit stew, I presume?" Anna couldn't help but say with a grin.

Katya stared back at her. "What in the heavens gave you that idea? He's a gentleman who enjoys beef stroganoff."

Anna's eyes bulged and her mouth watered. She reached out to grip the edge of the kitchen counter, unable to contain her excitement. "Excuse me? Did you say beef?"

"Yes. What of it?"

"I've never eaten cow meat before." Anna heard her own voice come out as a feral rasp, yet she couldn't care less. "Only fish, chicken, and rabbit."

"Well, that is certainly something."

Anna let go of the counter and slammed her palms down to stress the importance of her imminent request. "I don't care if I'm just a servant. You simply must let me have a share when we finish cooking. I'll die a happy girl if you do."

Katya shrugged her broad shoulders. "I don't see the harm, so I'll indulge you just this once."

"Wait, you will?"

"Did I stutter?"

Anna hadn't expected Katya to acquiesce so easily, but a victory was a victory, and she celebrated the best way she knew how. She clapped her hands and jumped up with a squeal. "Thank you! Thank you so much! You sure know how to treat me well!"

Katya cocked a grey eyebrow when Anna's excitement died down. "You really are a strange girl. Does your family make an effort to starve you each day?"

"Not really," Anna remarked as she realized yet again that her behaviour came across as bizarre to strangers. "At least not on purpose."

"Then you'll have to learn to rein yourself in. No man wants a girl who acts like an animal."

"Sorry."

"It's no trouble. Just try to remember next time." Katya opened the lower kitchen cupboard to reveal a large steel bucket inside. "You'll need some of this water to clean the house. But don't use too much, or we won't have enough left to cook, drink or bathe with."

"I know that."

"One can never explain things too much to a youngster."

Anna conceded to Katya's seniority like a good girl and spent the remainder of the morning observing and following the older woman's lead.

She sampled the beef stroganoff when it was finished, and closed her eyes, overcome with delight by the tenderness of the meat and the way the savory and creamy sauce dissolved on her tongue.

"It's wonderful," she murmured, placing the ladle aside. "You cook better than my aunt."

"I should think so. I've had many more years to practice." Katya motioned her head towards the door. "Mister Morozov usually comes home for lunch at this hour. You'll have a chance to ask him any pressing questions."

The joy left Anna's body at the reminder of her secondary goal. She gave Katya a tense nod, then resigned herself to awaiting the moment he would walk through the doors and help himself to a warm meal.

******

"Do sit down, Anna Vasilyeva," Igor requested, gesturing at the empty chair across from him. "Katya won't be back from the market for at least an hour, so we can enjoy each other's company in the meantime."

"Yes, sir." Anna stepped away from the stove and seated herself with difficulty. Just like in the morning, his cordiality seemed nothing more than a pretence, and she feared the consequences of saying the wrong thing. She stared at the spoon, knife, and fork that had been arranged in front of her.

"I presume you want to know the secret behind my eternal youth?" Igor announced, shocking her with his forthrightness.

Anna raised her head and allowed her gaze to meet his entrancing blue eyes. "Yes. I suppose that's a good place to start."

"Very well." Igor devoted the entirety of his attention to her instead of his plate of stroganoff and boiled potatoes. "But I must first warn you to never tell Katya or another living soul. I shall hunt you down and dispatch your whole family if you do."

Anna chuckled despite the sudden queasiness in her stomach. "On my unblemished soul, I'll take your secret with me to the grave."

"Good." Igor smirked as if it was all just a game to him. "I shall now impart the truth."

"Please, just get it over with."

He inhaled in much the same way as a singer preparing to perform a long note. "What if I was to tell you that I'm older than Russia itself? And I grew up in a time when we were but a collection of villages around the town of Novgorod?"

"What?" Anna smiled at the absurdity of his claims. "That's amusing."

Igor's face became devoid of mirth. "I'm not joking anymore, Anya. I really have lived for centuries." He sucked in another breath, then parted his thin lips to reveal a pair of pronounced fangs.

Anna froze, and she sat for a long while with a pounding heart and her mind empty of all thoughts. Then, a flicker of activity returned to her body, and she became aware once more of her own existence.

"I see." She adjusted the butter knife in front of her, making a conscious effort to keep her breath steady. "If you are this old, then surely you must be wise as well. Tell me why my stepmother and father had to die."

"I may be ancient, but I am not all-knowing," Igor stated, allowing her the luxury of seeing that his teeth had returned to normal. "My priority that day was saving your life, though I would have done more if I had known others were in danger."

Anna tried to blink back tears. "Don't you feel guilty for what you did?"

"Why should I?" He picked up his spoon and dug into his stroganoff. "People die every day, and it was simply an unfortunate set of circumstances."

"You..." Anna gave a choke and lowered her head so he wouldn't see her cry. The stinging tears rolled down her cheeks before falling in her lap, staining the fabric of her dress. "You should've just left me in the snow that night. Then I wouldn't be here, wasting your time and space."

Igor's spoon clattered against the table. "Don't you dare say that, Anya."

"You have no right to call me by that name."

"Anna Vasilyeva," he said firmly, the smooth quality of his voice demanding her attention. "I know nothing I do will ever bring back the ones you've lost, but to soothe your heart, I will gladly bestow upon you the power to destroy me if you so wish. You need only give me your permission."

Anna raised her head in alarm. "What do you mean?"

Igor leaned forward, and his sharp eyes seemed ready to pierce right through her. "It takes a fellow vampire to kill someone of my calibre, so I shall train you in all the necessary arts. What do you say?"