Compelled (8 page)

Once Yuri returned to his seat, his wife spoke to him. “Go down to the corner mart and get our guests some sandwiches from the stand.”

Yuri reached forward and kissed her stomach. “Anything you want.”

That was the extent of their conversation.

I rubbed my eyes. This had to be an illusion. A trickery of light and I’d fallen on the floor unconscious. This wasn’t the same lazy man who called my parents’ home asking to “talk” to Grandma for money. In the background, I often heard my cousin’s TV or the music from a video game. The guy had “deadbeat son who lived at home” written all over him.

Lilith waited for him to leave, all the while blowing on the fingernails she’d
attempted
to paint. She’d gotten a few streaks of red on her wrists, but the proud pregnant mother held up her hands with pride.

“When are you due?” I asked to make light conversation.

“I’m still early in my pregnancy. This place has been nice. New York wasn’t a good place for me to be in my condition.”

“How is that?” It wasn’t like she had the tools to hunt for souls in the U.S. either.

“Yuri and his family take care of me. Every
single
need.”

I shuddered, not bothering to ask
where
her food supply came from.

“What plan you have?” Inna asked. “You need stay here?”

My mouth opened to say no, but Tyler spoke first. “She needs to travel north to find a small town called Vyborg. Do you know the best way to get there?”

“Of course, my Yuri will take you tomorrow morning with his band,” Lilith said.

We all turned at the same time to focus on Lilith.

“His band?” I asked.

“When we got here, I wasn’t gonna have him sitting around on his lazy butt, so I made him work until he could afford to take his
balalaika
out of pawn. After that, I made him join a band.” Her smile was coy, definitely the smile of a woman who wore the maternity pants in the house. “Can you guess when his next tour begins?”

Chapter 8

For the first time ever, I thanked the succubus. In group therapy, she drove us bat-shit crazy with her complaints about not being able to find a man or her lack of opportunities to find one. Heidi had once told me of Lilith’s antics while the mermaid had taken her out to get a man. The succubus had sucked her date dry, but now that I saw her pregnant with Yuri falling in line with a couple of words, I couldn’t help but smile like a proud mother hen. Well, I did little in getting her back on track, but she had to open herself up to a new relationship like everybody else.

The day wound down after Yuri brought back food for us to eat. The sandwiches had been wrapped with care, and with a sniff or two, I gave the thumbs up to Raj, who didn’t look like he trusted his veggie wrap.

“So where you stay?” my cousin asked.

“I’ll be fine until tomorrow morning,” I replied.

“She’ll be fine. We’ll take care of her,” Tyler said.

Inna chuckled, looking Tyler over like he was sizzling pork chops on a grill. “You are nice boy. Not werewolf, but handsome. You married?”

Tyler blinked. Was this his first werewolf proposition?

“I’m flattered, but I’m trying to get matched to a dwarf wife.” He stumbled a bit while his face blossomed bright red.

“Dwarf wife.” Inna’s smile widened and then she laughed again. “Interesting. Never before I have dwarf in my home. You smell different.”

Tyler frowned and sniffed his forearm. The guy was cleaner than most. I always smelled some kind of soap on him. I assumed he had to keep up appearances to find a wife.

After a round of goodbyes, I agreed to meet the band tomorrow morning at Alexander Park near the Leningrad Zoo.

The next things I needed to do was find a place to stay—which meant it was time for another round of goodbyes.

Once outside the building, I smiled at Tyler and Raj.

“You two have been amazing,” I said. “
Again.
”

“Yeah, this has been fun,” Raj said. “A nice adventure before I get back to the grind at home.”

“You got work to do this week?” I asked.

“I always have work.” Raj explained during the long train trip that he worked for a game development company as the lead over the writing team. The guy had a knack for coming up with really cool storylines for fantasy games. Go figure. I found it hilarious every time I thought about it.

“How about you, Tyler?” I asked him. “What do you have going on this week?”

“I have traveling to do. It will be hard, but I like challenges,” he replied.

“Then you two should get going. I’m gonna try to find a clean hostel and get settled for the evening.” I waved at my friends because Raj wasn’t a hugger, and then turned to leave.

Then I noticed I had an extra shadow as I walked. “Tyler, what are you doing?”

“I’m traveling.”

I faced him with my hands on my hips.

“I have business to handle north of here. With a friend.” He shrugged.

“Don’t you have to go back to New York? Maybe have another matchmaking dinner?”

“I think we both saw how that worked out. I need some time to get my shit together.” Tyler rarely swore. He stared out to the street past us with a wistful expression.

“Not everything I see and experience will be vacation-like,” I admitted.

“That’s never the case with you, Natalya, but I’ll be fine.” He finally smiled. I couldn’t resist returning it. He had that charismatic vibe about him that could make a ship sail backwards. “You have a way of bringing out the best in me. I need to spend more time with friends like that.”

We began to walk again.

“Why can’t I seem to bring out the best in myself, then?” I asked.

“I guess it doesn’t work that way. If it did, we wouldn’t be in therapy.”

“You got that right. I wouldn’t still be hoarding.”

We slowed down a bit but kept going.

“It takes time, you know,” he said. “I’m still not married and have panic attacks every time I want to meet a pretty girl.”

“We’re all a work in progress, huh?”

“I wanna be done.”

I couldn’t resist rolling with laughter. “You and me both, Tyler.”

After asking the locals some questions and a short bus ride, we found a hostel to stay for the night in the neighborhood. The area wasn’t too bad, rather like Brooklyn in a way. Men and women spent the evening heading out for groceries for dinner and the scents from their cooking drifted to my nose.

The sounds of conversation from the next building bled through the walls and reached my ears. I longed for home already.

Tyler was in the bed next to mine. The large room had several occupants already sleeping.

This was my first hostel and the second time tolerating a bed that wasn’t my own. Tyler saw the look on my face when we came in and immediately turned around to find a shopping mart to buy me suitable bedding. The place smelled clean, but no matter how I tried to shake the bounds of my illness, I couldn’t unsee things. Mind over matter was some useless bullshit in my opinion. I could sit on the bed and pretend I didn’t smell the cat that had wandered around the place and lay on my bed. I could sit on the bed and pretend I didn’t notice the tears in the sheet (seven of them.) And finally, I could pretend I was an alpha female and this was trivial. Humans had so many things that didn’t concern them. Their lack of senses gave them blinders I wished I had.

I laughed a bit, and Tyler opened one eye to glance at me.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t cracked yet,” I said with a bit of a smile.

“Yet,” he mumbled.

I closed my eyes and focused on the TV show blaring through the wall from the home next door. I focused, allowing my ears to give me all the input I needed. I didn’t need to worry about the room, the bed, or the occupants.

As I drifted off to sleep, listening to the laughter from the wife whose husband complained that his food was too cold and the kids arguing about some video game they heard about at school, a smile settled on my face. I thought about my brother Alex and my parents and a similar scene from decades ago when we were kids. Those were good times.

I held onto those memories and slept.

We were supposed to be at Alexander Park at nine a.m. But if you know me, I am a stickler for time. Matter of fact, I dragged Tyler out of bed to show up at eight forty-five sharp. In my opinion, the early werewolf could catch and munch on the bird that caught the worm. That sort of thing.

But not a single person was waiting at the designated spot.

“They are musicians,” Tyler said with a shrug. “There’s no reason for them to be on time. They might’ve had a late night gig or something.”

Forty-five minutes later, the first person showed up. A tall man, wearing a wrinkled, bright red suit that stank of booze and smoke, ambled up to us holding a violin case. Using a small comb, he ran it through messy brown curls that refused to stay put.

“Are you waiting for the tour bus?” I asked him in Russian.

“Yes. Do I know you?”

“I’m Yuri’s cousin, Natalya. He told us we could hitch a ride.”

“Oh, yes, he told us about you last night at dinner. I’m Dmitri!” He glanced at my friend as if he wanted introductions. “Who is your friend?”

I introduced him to Tyler.

Tyler stumbled over saying hello in Russian, but he managed to introduce himself with flair.

“Might as well prepare for any photo shoots in Russia someday,” he said with a grin afterwards.

“Where is everyone?” I asked Dmitri.

“They all got sloppy drunk last night. The bandmaster even ended up passed out under the table.”

I couldn’t resist snorting. It sounded like my uncles after a few rounds of hard liquor.

“They’ll be here soon. We need to get going, since we have a party in Vyborg tonight. We have to make it.” Dmitri gave a half-hearted shrug.

A few minutes later, a few more players showed up. Most of them lumbered about with stubble on their faces and bleary eyes. A bunch of hungover werewolves made the worst travel companions. I tried to smile and introduced myself.

We stood in a wide circle. The smallest man, who had a tuba about half his size, seemed to be the only cheerful person in the band. He had merry cheeks and the most pleasant demeanor. He probably drank the least last night. Yuri arrived last with Lilith waddling ahead of him. She kissed his cheek, waved in my direction, and then headed back home.

“Where is the driver with that damn bus?” Dmitri spat.

“He probably fell asleep inside it,” one man said.

“That slime bag is probably still between a woman’s legs.” He glanced at me. “No offense.” He introduced himself to me as Andelov.

“You bark like a pup compared to my aunts,” I reassured him.

He laughed. “A good woman knows how to handle a man,” he said with a wink. He looked to be around my father’s age, at least a century old.

An even older man shuffled up to us with a tiny duffle bag in his hand, and Dmitri introduced him as
Stary Papa
. Old Papa. Wrinkles filled his face and he nodded to us with expansive gray eyes.

“He plays the cymbals for us,” Dmitri said.

While we waited, Dmitri opened his case to reveal a beautiful fiddle. The fine instrument smelled of old wood and varnish. He’d cared for the fiddle a lot more than his appearance. With a flourish, he picked up his instrument, began plucking at the strings, and sang the opening line to
Korobushka
:

Hey, my carrier box is brimful, there’s calico, print, and brocade.

Have mercy, my dear, with my juvenile shoulders!

It had been a few years since I’d heard the Peddler’s Box song.

The others laughed and clapped, a few opening their respective cases. The atmosphere was hard to resist. I began to sing with them. How long had it been since I’d heard a live band playing Russian folk music? A crowd of bystanders strolling through the park stopped to watch the band. The short tuba player belted out the lively tune. Andelov played the accordion, while Yuri strummed the
balalaika
, a Russian guitar with a triangular body. Dmitri continued to play his fiddle.

Ever the showman, he even flipped it backwards in the middle of playing and kept going. The bow danced in his hands, and the growing crowd roared.

Tyler stomped his foot at my side, his head bobbing to the tune.

Naturally, right as they began playing the song for a second time, much to the bystanders’ dismay, a grumbling tour bus pulled up to the street nearby.

Yuri continued to strum the
balalaika
and Dmitri played while dancing a jig, even as the others stopped and gathered their belongings.
 

Was there some kind of band member rivalry going on? While the others loaded up the bus, Tyler and I gaped at the two until Old Papa gestured for us to get on. “Those two idiots will play until we start to leave,” he said in accented English.

“Why?” Tyler asked.

“I don’t know.” Old Papa shook his head. “They once played until Dmitri hurt his hands. Stupid idiots.”

Tyler and I found empty seats in the middle of the bus.

As expected, the bus was loaded, still spewing black exhaust, and began to pull away as Dmitri and Yuri gave up their battle. They grabbed their instruments and cases, racing each other to reach the bus first.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” I said to Old Papa.

The elderly werewolf gave a short laugh. “I once told the driver to leave them and let them hitchhike. I was ignored, and you see what happens? Little boys who need their asses beaten.”

The two found seats. Dmitri in front and Yuri in the back. They were breathless and glared at each other.

The ride north was a cramped one on lumpy seats with the stuffing poking out in places, but the mood was jovial. I expected sleeping and snoring werewolves, but the band had apparently shaken off the effects of their drunken night. Dmitri broke out another song at the front of the bus.

As much as I wanted forever,

my sweetheart ran away for another.

Would she come to me next full moon?

I beg you sweet princess.

She wouldn’t come to me, for she’d found another.