Chapter 1

Alla and Nika considered themselves shining examples of that rare breed of best friends who didn’t need to see each other often to stay close.

Long ago, they had gone to the same school and even shared the same classroom, but eventually their paths diverged. Alla’s fairly wealthy — though not outrageously so — father had enrolled his beloved daughter in a foreign-language institute. Alla was a dark-eyed brunette whom Nika suspected, not without reason, of having Jewish roots.

The naive man had hoped that his crafty daughter would find a job somewhere abroad — at a major corporation, perhaps, or at least as a waitress — and start earning actual green American dollars, or, better yet, those much cooler euros.

It didn’t quite work out that way.

Instead, Alla acquired several elderly online lovers, each firmly convinced that she loved him and him alone. During their lonely evenings, they gazed lovingly at her erotic photos and never forgot to compensate her generously for the time she graciously devoted to them.

And so Alla traveled the world, remembering to send souvenirs home to her parents and her friend while trying to figure out what exactly she had been born into this world for.

In the meantime, she stuffed herself with delicious food, stayed in whatever hotels caught her fancy, and developed very close friendships with attractive young locals. They were always happy to help her relieve stress, tell her where to buy cheap groceries, and point her toward the most interesting sights.

In short, Alla was burning through life at full speed, inspiring a fierce pang of envy in Nika.

Nika endured it bravely, convinced that sooner or later a Brazilian carnival would come dancing down her street too.

Or at least a zombie apocalypse.

Travel, unfortunately, hadn’t worked out nearly as well for her. After being denied a visa a couple of times, she told her miserable fate where it could go and rented a small house in a cottage community outside the city. There she studied the basics of meditation, learned the art of being a recluse, and tried to earn a living online.

Though, to be fair, without Alla’s generous financial contributions, she probably would have starved to death long ago.

So when Alla called at six in the morning on that sunny autumn day and announced that she was back — for one day only, since she’d happened upon some cheap tickets to Barcelona — Nika was genuinely delighted.

After getting a little more sleep, she hurriedly got ready, trying not to spend too much time studying the dark circles beneath her eyes or their bloodshot whites. She had, once again, spent almost the entire night online.

Her hair looked clean enough, although she couldn’t remember exactly when she’d last washed it. She did shower regularly, at least. Water calmed her and helped her collect her thoughts before yet another attempt to meet someone — her friend’s success still haunted her — or to find a job.

Both endeavors produced the same result: zero.

Sometimes even less than zero.

Occasionally, Nika took grim comfort in the fact that at least nobody could beat her up over the Internet.

At exactly three in the afternoon, she stood, punctual as a soldier, outside a small café called The Crown. She studied the crown on its sign. It looked as though someone had stolen it from a cheap doll pretending to be a queen.

It never occurred to her that this was the day her life was going to change completely.

She was already twenty-six and no longer believed in sudden twists of fate. Or rather, she believed that life was perfectly capable of making spectacular hairpin turns — just never on her road. Those were reserved for her best, and only, friend.

Nika examined her reflection uneasily in the café window. Once again she had the uncomfortable feeling that people on the minibus into town had been looking at her strangely.

One boy had even called her a geek.

She had mentally informed him that she wasn’t even qualified to be a programmer. Everything she knew, she’d learned superficially — either at school or during her first two years at an economics institute, before they kicked her out. First, she’d stopped paying tuition. Second, she had developed an unfortunate habit of forgetting to attend classes.

Or exams.

Overall, she rather liked what she saw in the glass: average height, a delicate build. No model, certainly, but attractive enough, with fine, regular features in a heart-shaped face, large gray-green eyes, and medium-length light-brown hair currently pulled into a low ponytail.

Nika decided she looked reasonably good, aside from the unhealthy appearance of someone who had been locked in a basement for several years.

Her eyes didn’t help. They tended to look either wild, frightened, or so completely vacant that people frequently suspected there was something seriously wrong with her.

Suddenly she remembered that Sailor Moon had also featured a café with the same name.

And places like that had a habit of attracting important characters.

She had barely finished the thought when Alla appeared in the flesh.

She looked like a gorgeous, voluptuous Eastern concubine from the harem of a wealthy shah...

A concubine who had just escaped from said harem and thrown on whatever clothes she could find.

Nika told her so.

Alla ruffled her hair, tugged her ponytail, seized her by the hand, and dragged her inside like Slender Man hauling away his latest victim. Once inside, she practically threw Nika into a seat at a table by the window.

“You know, lately I’ve been having strange dreams about you,” Alla said thoughtfully, drumming her fingers against lips painted scarlet. “You’re beckoning me through this fog. Then you grab my hand and drag me toward some horrible abandoned building. And you tell me it’s our office and we’ve already been working there for two years.”

“Neither of us works,” Nika said, shaking her head as she grabbed the menus an unfriendly waitress had practically thrown at them. “You live off your online lovers and your rich father, and I live off you. Although technically I suppose I have two jobs: keeping you happy and trying to scrape up something on the Internet. For some reason, though, all I ever find is virtual money.”

“And I dreamed they actually paid us for our work!” exclaimed the brunette, whose own hair had also been rather carelessly pulled into a ponytail.

Her tight ripped jeans and T-shirt of some indeterminate color made it obvious that Alla had once again gotten carried away with traveling and had apparently started sleeping on planes, trains, and public transportation.

Still, Nika had to admit that Alla’s generous curves and narrow waist attracted plenty of male attention despite her seasoned-traveler look.

“Ha! I got two hundred bucks from you recently,” Nika laughed, finally settling on a cappuccino and a slice of chocolate cake with cherries. “Except it didn’t come from your card. It came from some account I’ve never seen before.”

“That wasn’t me.”

Alla stared at her, having ordered herself an alcoholic cocktail and a Greek salad.

“You’re not joking, are you?” she asked almost plaintively, giving Nika her best puppy-dog eyes. “Because I dreamed about that too! That’s exactly how we’re supposed to get paid. Except we’re still trainees and don’t know how to do anything properly yet, so the pay was pathetic. After two years, we’d only accumulated two hundred dollars. I got the money too. Anonymous transfer. I assumed I’d simply forgotten about some new rich old man I’d picked up somewhere. But that’s way too much of a coincidence with those damn dreams!”

“Everything in our lives happens unexpectedly and accidentally, exactly the way genuine miracles should,” Nika observed philosophically, resting her chin on her palm. “Or disasters. Those tend to sneak up on you like a murderer carrying a shovel.”

Despite the increasingly bizarre turn the conversation was taking, what she wanted more than anything was sleep.

Once again, she had spent most of the night reading a romance novel by some American author on her laptop. It was about how terribly difficult life was for a beautiful woman in Hollywood — especially when she had to choose among hordes of handsome, muscular, wealthy men who simply wouldn’t leave the sweet, modest heroine alone.

The poor girl had only come to Hollywood to build a career.

Not for any of that.

Books like that not only allowed Nika’s exhausted brain to escape the gray reality of her life and fly far, far away, but also inspired an overwhelming desire to track down the author, grab her by the collar, and drag her back to their country.

Let her try living in their city for a while.

There was no Hollywood there.

There wasn’t going to be one, either.

They didn’t even have Bollywood, and even the poor people of India could afford that.

“Oh, come on! Miracles, she says.” Alla gave a strained laugh, frowning with her thin, perfectly shaped eyebrows. “I think some guy online finally decided you were worth something. You do meet foreigners on dating sites, don’t you?”

She gave Nika an encouraging smile and studied her with the expression of a concerned mother trying to decide whether to put her child in the corner or accept that her daughter might be one of those...

Indigo Children.

Rather than simply completely nuts.

“Oh, it’s useless!” Nika snapped, tugging irritably at her ponytail. “A couple of idiots even came all the way from their wonderful countries to bestow happiness upon me, the poor inhabitant of the Third World. And immediately started trying to drag me into bed. I can’t do that. And I don’t want to!”

She tossed her head aggressively.

The effect was somewhat ruined when she immediately yawned so widely that she barely managed to cover her mouth.

“My sympathies.” Alla nodded, apparently remembering certain episodes from her own biography. “I usually feed them fairy tales about exploring the world. Or searching for Zen. And I hide behind my wealthy father and his company. Besides, I really do travel constantly. So I’m impossible to catch. Like sand slipping through your fingers.”

She shrugged.

“I’m sorry you have to put up with that filth. I know you take sex incredibly seriously. To me, it’s just a game. I don’t let anyone close to my heart. Sometimes even I’m amazed by how cynical I can be. I can sleep with some gorgeous muscular guy without ever learning his name, throw him out of my hotel room the next morning, and not even ask for his number. Apparently that sort of behavior makes me a feminist.”

“You’ve always wanted to be free,” Nika replied neutrally.

She had almost stopped envying her friend. Especially since Alla never got angry when she noticed Nika doing it.

Which, perversely, sometimes made Nika want to grab a fistful of her hair.

Over the past few years, Nika had analyzed her personality and behavior and eventually realized that she was simply different. She wasn’t as brave or as strong as her friend.

There were reasons for that.

She had grown up in a family where her parents constantly fought and accused each other of begrudging the other even a piece of bread. They regularly held competitions to determine who had ruined whose life more thoroughly.

The winner usually got smacked in the face.

Nika knew she would never become as strong, cool, and uninhibited as Alla.

And despite all her natural potential, Alla had never become a genuine bitch.

Nika was grateful for that.

Not merely because her friend had effectively supported her financially for the past few years, but because Alla was the only person Nika could talk to without feeling uncomfortable, wanting to flee back to her rented cottage, and stare glassy-eyed at her computer screen.

“I think these walls are starting to close in on me,” Alla said thoughtfully. “I’ve gotten used to always walking somewhere, sightseeing, looking for something... flying somewhere, going somewhere. I’ve forgotten how to just sit around without any purpose.”

“We’re eating,” Nika pointed out with a snort. “And discussing something very strange. Some weird person — possibly a psycho — sent both of us two hundred bucks. With you, there could be a hundred explanations. You’ve got far too many unregistered admirers. But with me, there are only two possibilities: either it actually was you, except you were completely wasted, or somebody made a mistake.”

“So you don’t believe that we work for some magical company while we’re asleep?” Alla asked, tilting her head and giving her a sly look.

“I think your cocktail was extremely strong.” Nika rolled her eyes. “Which is surprising. Places like this usually water down all the booze.”

“Nonsense! That cocktail was one sip. Fine, two.” Alla protested energetically, rolling her eyes. “It was practically all ice.”

She stirred the remaining cubes with her straw.

“The cake and cappuccino aren’t bad,” Nika admitted. “But after this conversation, I actually want to get drunk. When you say things like that, I start worrying about you. I’m supposed to be the weird one in this friendship. You’re the sensible, down-to-earth girl. So please don’t steal my job. If you get tired of me playing the clown, you’ll get rid of me.”

Her voice turned plaintive as she looked away.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Alla waved the thought aside. “You’re my best and only friend. I don’t need anyone else. We get along perfectly. And as for your inability to make money... nobody ever taught you how. Nobody gave you a decent start in life.”

“Yeah,” Nika snorted. “If we’d suddenly found ourselves in the not-so-distant past, they’d have confiscated everything your family owned for being rich.”

She grinned.

“And they’d have taken me along with you for accepting money from the well-fed bourgeoisie.”