Forge and Fire (The Replacement Book 1) Read online

  Forge and Fire

  The Replacement Book 1

  Ripley Proserpina

  Copyright © 2019 by Ripley Proserpina

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Content Editing: Heather Long

  Copy Editing: Jennifer at Bookends Editing

  Cover Design: KD Richie, Storywrappers

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Tatiana

  2. Tatiana

  3. Tatiana

  4. Grisha/Cherny

  5. Tatiana

  6. Fedir/Fenik

  7. Tatiana

  8. Grisha/Cherny

  9. Tatiana

  10. Kopala

  11. Tatiana

  12. Shubin

  13. Tatiana

  14. Fedir/Fenik

  15. Tatiana

  16. The Prince/Kopala

  17. Grisha/Cherny

  18. Tatiana

  19. Tatiana

  20. Taras

  21. Tatiana

  22. Kopala

  23. Tatiana

  24. Fedir/Fenik

  25. Tatiana

  26. Tatiana

  27. Kopala

  28. Shubin

  29. Tatiana

  30. Tatiana

  31. Kopala

  32. Tatiana

  33. Tatiana

  34. Kopala

  35. Tatiana

  The Replacement

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books by Ripley:

  Prologue

  “My, my.” With long, bony fingers, the ancient woman reached out to touch the mobile hanging over the baby’s bassinet. It twirled gracefully, the paper wings of the folded cranes extending as she used her magic. “Look at them fly,” she whispered to the baby.

  At the sound of her voice, the baby yawned and blinked bright blue eyes.

  “Aren’t you a pretty thing.”

  Chubby hands reached up, grasping for her fingers. As the soft baby skin touched hers, the woman softened. And yearned.

  And made a decision.

  Whirling away, she disappeared into the woods next to the house. She bound sticks together with birch bark and fashioned leaves into hair. It had been generations since she’d done this, but the baby inside—it had to be hers.

  The wind whipped through the forest toward the house. On top of the shed, a weather vane spun in a circle, and metal scraped against rusty metal, like a warning. Hurry, hurry. Don’t take too long.

  Lifting her gaze, the woman narrowed her eyes, and squinted into the forest. Bright eyes reflecting moonlight met hers, and she bared her teeth in warning.

  The creatures slunk into the darkness, and the wind died down. She lowered her head again, intent on her task.

  This family wouldn’t be left bereft. She’d replace what she took, though the replacement wouldn’t last long. She closed her eyes, whispering as she breathed life into the changeling. “The devil steals, a baby concealed.”

  The bundle of sticks arched, stretching its stick arms in the air as if it were a real child. Stones in place of eyes glimmered as awareness came to life, and the small head turned, wood creaking at the movement. The child kicked the woman in the ribs as she moved and breathed for the first time.

  Perfect.

  She hurried back into the house where her beautiful baby waited. The wind blew through the nursery, spinning the paper cranes faster and faster. If she felt such things, the woman would have shivered at the chilly temperature. “Poor baby.” Silly her, leaving the window open, but it’d been so long since she’d had to think of anyone but herself.

  The baby reached for her as if she could feel her love and the comfort she so wanted to give. Oh, she wanted that baby. She wanted her so much.

  As if she could sense her yearning, the changeling in her arms gave a pitiful, weak cry.

  Glancing down at the bundle in distaste, the woman hissed. She placed it on the floor before lifting her baby into her arms. “Ohhhh,” she breathed out. It had been so long since she’d felt such warmth. Her heart beat steadily in her chest, expanding with the growing love she had for her new daughter.

  At her feet, the changeling made a mewling sound, and without even looking at it, she took it by the arm and flung it into the bassinet.

  The blankets were still warm from the human child, and slowly, the changeling took shape.

  She was exactly the same as the baby in her arms but completely different.

  Blue eyes, yes. But there was no glimmer. No brilliance.

  Warm skin, but dull. None of the pink and gold that her real baby had. Dark hair. The woman glared at the changeling… this was good enough for the humans.

  In the crib, the new baby cried, her voice lifting louder and louder as the chill from the open window seeped through her thin skin and into her fragile bones.

  Down the hall, a light came on.

  Quickly, she brought the baby to her face, whispering, “This is she that empties cradles. Takes out children, puts in ladles.”

  And with that, she was gone.

  1

  Tatiana

  Tatiana Alexander stared at the doctor sitting across from her. The expression on his face was so bland, so calm. Like he hadn’t just uttered the most devastating news of her entire life.

  “She’s dying?” Her mother’s voice was choked. Ruined.

  Tatiana repeated the words to herself in the doctor’s voice. “Your body is giving out.”

  Giving out.

  A red hot bubble of anger welled from her belly and up her throat. Gripping the sides of the chair, she eased forward to glare at the man. “Why?”

  He sat back, eyes widening. “Why?”

  “Why am I dying? Why can’t you fix me?”

  The doctor slid closer, the wooden chair creaking beneath him. Behind him, his diplomas and certifications were mounted on the walls in gilded and wood frames. She glanced around the office, seeing for the first time the deception in its presentation.

  Everything here was a lie meant to lull her into a false sense of security.

  The diplomas? Meaningless.

  The leather? Fake.

  The books, journals, tomes, paperwork? For show.

  The man had no idea what was wrong with her but had given her hope. Worse, he’d given her mother hope.

  Mom sniffed, let out a breath, and then breathed deeply. “We’ll get a second opinion.”

  “Mrs. Alexander,” the doctor said. No. He condescended. Tatiana stared at him. His opinion of her mother—and her—was clear as day. They’d wasted their time coming here. The doctor must have known it from the moment he’d opened Tatiana’s medical file. “Your daughter has been ill most of her life, and her body is shutting down. She’s wasting away. Weakening. That’s all I can tell you, because I cannot find the underlying cause. We know what is happening to her, but not why. I’ve run every possible test, looked for genetic markers, but the truth is, sometimes these things happen for no reason.”

  “She was a healthy baby,” Mom said, and Tatiana winced. This never failed to cause her guilt. It was as if she’d done something to become unhealthy. Pictures of her first six months showed a chubby, bright-eyed baby. The differences between that six-month-old and the six-month-and-one-day-old were stark. “But one morning she was different. I showed you the photos.”

  “You did, Mrs. Alexander, and like I exp
lained, it is possible that whatever was going on internally slowly manifested externally. She hit all her milestones; you couldn’t have known something was brewing beneath the surface.”

  Something. That elusive something making Tatiana different from everyone else. From her brother. From her friends.

  Tatiana the shadow.

  Tatiana the sick.

  Tatiana the burden.

  Her parents’ marriage had deteriorated like her body, until, like her, they were ghosts going about the business of life without any joy.

  “I don’t want to die,” Tatiana said. There. She’d said it. So much time was spent watching life from the sidelines when she wanted to participate. In between those times when she was too tired and too ill, she went to school and made friends. And when her hands were cold and numb, she still played the piano. Her head may have ached from it, but she loved to read and write and draw, and she did all those things.

  She’d taken advantage of the opportunities that had crossed her path, and she wasn’t ready to give in.

  “Tatiana.” The doctor steepled his hands on the edge of his desk. His eyes flicked over her shoulder, and instinctively, she turned to follow his gaze. Behind her was a mirror. The man had been watching his reflection. Asshole. “I want you to live your life as fully as you can, for as long as you can. I have designed a regimen of prescriptions that will give you as much energy as possible, while managing your pain.”

  “I’m not in pain,” she argued. This was always hard for doctors to understand. How could someone so ill—so thin and pale—not hurt? And at times she did. She got headaches, but she could push it to the side. It was the exhaustion that did her in. She could only fight that for so long before she tumbled into dreamless sleep.

  “Tati has an incredibly high pain tolerance. Even after exploratory surgeries, she only ever needed ibuprofen.”

  The doctor nodded. So smug. Tatiana wanted to slap the smugness off his face. “That is often the case for people with chronic disease. The pain is part of their life. But it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”

  “So there’s nothing?” Mom cleared her throat. “There’s nothing we can do?”

  “I am sorry.”

  Ugh. The way he put the emphasis on the word am. “I am sorry.” She wondered if he practiced that response the way he practiced his “wise doctor look” in the mirror behind her. Probably.

  “I am sorry.”

  “I am sorry.”

  He was sorry, and she was dying.

  That was it. The end. Finished.

  “You’ve had twenty, almost twenty-one years when other doctors believed you wouldn’t see one. Take comfort in that,” he droned.

  Mom nodded, but Tatiana’s stomach clenched. She should be grateful for her twenty years. Grateful. And forget about everything that could be?

  Forget about school, and friends, and her family. You got twenty years, Tati. Isn’t that something? No. It wasn’t something. It wasn’t enough. She wanted more.

  She wanted everything.

  But from the look on the doctor’s face, Tatiana knew that was a pointless wish.

  The ride home was silent. Mom drove, glancing out at the scenery every so often as they passed by the shops on Main Street. Shoppers darted in and out of stores, arms laden with bags.

  “Do you think I’ll live to Christmas?” It slipped out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

  “Don’t be morbid, Tati,” Mom said. “Of course, you will. It’s in eight days. You’ve got eight days left.”

  Tatiana laughed, rolling her head against the seat to stare at her mom.

  It took her a moment to realize what she’d said, and she slapped her hand over her mouth. “Jesus. Tatiana, I’m sorry.” But then she snorted and dissolved into giggles. “At least we can laugh.”

  Tatiana gave one last chuckle and turned back to the window. “I didn’t like that doctor.”

  “He came highly recommended,” Mom said then sighed. “He was an asshole.”

  “He was!” She folded her hands on her lap. “He was staring into the mirror as he spoke.”

  “I could see that,” Mom muttered. “Oh! Look at the star!”

  Leaning forward to peer out the window, Tatiana could barely make out the twinkle of the Nativity Star. Every Christmas season, the star was lit up, towering over the city of Nativity, Pennsylvania. This was the first time in a while she’d been out of the house, so she hadn’t seen it yet.

  “Do you think I should withdraw from college?” she asked suddenly, leaning back against her seat. “Finals are over. I don’t want to leave you with a bill.”

  “No.” Mom’s voice was firm. “You’re going to get your degree. Don’t start canceling plans. Got me?”

  Tatiana nodded and stared out the window again. They were approaching the old Nativity Steel factories, and a wave of exhaustion hit her. She glanced down at her watch, which illuminated when she moved her arm. She’d been out of the house approximately two hours, and already she was starting to fade. She used to be able to make it longer than this.

  It was as if the doctor, by telling her she didn’t have much time, had stolen time from her. The clock was still ticking away, but now the hands were moving faster. Bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed it.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to open her mouth.

  “You always get sick here,” her mother said, as they sped past the steel stacks. “When you were little, and they smoked, you’d throw up every time.”

  Now she remembered. She remembered the taste of it, how bitter and acrid it was, and the way it seemed to choke her.

  The farther from the factory they got, the better she began to feel. “I’d forgotten.”

  They were both quiet for a while. “I’m going to call your brother.”

  At Mom’s pronouncement, Tatiana dug her fingernails into her palms. “Don’t ruin Christmas.”

  “I’m not keeping this secret from him,” Mom said. “He deserves to know. I already texted your father. They’re both coming over tonight. We’ll sit down over dinner and tell them.”

  She nodded but didn’t answer. Her poor family. Their whole lives were dominated by her illness. Birthday parties, vacations, dates, all of it was subject to cancellation based on her health.

  And no one resented her for it.

  They should. Tatiana would have. If she couldn’t have gone to the prom because Pavel got sick, she’d have thrown a fit. But her brother had merely shrugged, called his girlfriend, and kept her company in her hospital room.

  She didn’t deserve them.

  Mom put on her blinker, waiting for the oncoming traffic to clear before pulling into their driveway. The small, split-level house was dark, but lit up when Mom opened the garage. All at once, the house exploded into Christmas. Twinkle lights blinked along the bushes. A spotlight beamed red and green stars across the front of the house.

  And in every window, a candle glowed.

  “I didn’t know you hooked it into the garage door opener,” Tatiana said. At night, all the lights came on, but she’d assumed her mother had set them to a timer.

  “What do you think I am? An electrician?” Mom scoffed. “It’s five o’clock. Timer.”

  She rolled her eyes at herself. “Well, it would have been pretty cool if you had.”

  Her mom grunted and shut off the car. As the dome light illuminated, she turned to Tatiana. “Do you need help getting out?” She looked almost afraid to ask her, but it was a fair question.

  Her typical response would have been, “No. Of course not,” but the truth was, her knees felt a little wobbly. Her appetite had disappeared beneath her nerves, and she hadn’t been able to force down anything. Stupid move, because now she was light-headed and tired. A dangerous combination.

  “You should probably walk behind me up the stairs,” Tatiana admitted. “Just in case.”

  Her mom nodded and got out of the car. She followed, carefully
placing each foot in front of the other. Thankfully, she got up the stairs without trouble.

  The inside of her house was just as garish as outside. A soft glow lit up the interior from the candles. It would have been pretty alone, but her mom had added garland, and Christmas-themed figurines along every available surface.

  She couldn’t even slide her hand up the banister because of the faux-pine wrapped around the wood.

  They hadn’t made it to the kitchen before the front door opened and slammed shut. “I’m here!” Tatiana’s older brother stormed up the stairs into the kitchen. “What happened?” He slapped at the light against the wall. “Why the hell are you standing in the dark?”

  “We literally just walked in the door,” Mom said. “Now help your mother and order us pizza.”

  “You invited me over for dinner, and now expect me to order it?” Pavel shook his head. “And Dad texted me. He’s bringing Babusya.”

  Mom groaned. “He didn’t say anything about bringing his mother.”

  “I’m telling you. He was probably afraid.”

  Opening the fridge, Mom began to pull out ingredients for sauce. “Forget the pizza. He should be afraid,” she muttered. “So she’s arriving on her broomstick?” she asked a little louder.

  “Mom,” Pavel complained.

  “What?” Mom opened a jar of sauce and poured it into a pan, then she added frozen meatballs.

  Tatiana pulled a stool out from under the island and slid onto it. She propped her elbows on the counter and let her head fall onto one hand. “Can I go to bed?”