Into the Flame (2 page)

Read Into the Flame Online

Authors: Christina Dodd

Tags: #paranormal romance

BOOK: Into the Flame
2.95Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
DARKNESS CHOSEN FAMILY TREE
THE VARINSKIS
1000 AD — In the Ukraine
Konstantine Varinski
makes a deal with the devil.
Prologue
The Legend Continues . . .
In the snowy winter on the flat, frozen, empty steppes of the Ukraine, when the blizzard rages and night lingers like an unwelcome guest, my grandmother sits close to the oil stove, heating her old bones, and hugs me close. When I beg her, she tells me the old Russian legends: of the beautiful seamstress Maryushka and how Kaschei the Immortal changed her into a firebird, or of the musician Sadko and how he wed the sea king’s daughter. When it grows very late and the wind rattles the windows with its icy fingers, I beg for a different story—one that frightens and haunts me.
Most of the time, she turns her head away and refuses. But sometimes, reluctantly, she relates the legend of the Darkness, of Konstantine Varinski and his pact with the devil . . . and her voice trembles.
It happened over a thousand years ago, and sometimes she tells the story one way, sometimes another, but always the main facts remain the same. . . .
Konstantine Varinski stood tall, with wide shoulders and legs like long tree trunks, and skillful hands that could use a knife to gut a man even while he brutally crushed his woman’s windpipe. Through hot summers and frigid winters, he wandered alone, preying on the helpless, stealing, raping, and murdering, until at last his fame reached the ears of the devil himself.
Now my grandmother huddles with a blanket pulled high around the back of her neck. She drinks hot tea from a glass, but nothing can contain her dread as she tells about the devil who, displeased with the competition, rose from the depths of hell itself to seek out the upstart Konstantine Varinski and make him sorry he dared challenge the Evil One.
But Konstantine was not only as savage as a wolf, he was also sly as a fox. He offered the devil a pact: He and his descendants would become Satan’s dedicated servants, and in return, the devil would grant them the ability to change at will into hunting animals.
Konstantine’s daring captured Satan’s interest, and so he looked deep into Konstantine’s soul. What he saw there pleased and amazed him: Konstantine was evil through and through, a foul and useful tool.
But Konstantine was not finished with his demands.
He and all his descendants would be invincible, never to be killed in battle except by another demon. Each Varinski would be long-lived, and most important—they would breed only sons. They would hail the birth of each new demon, and raise the boy to be a ruthless warrior worthy of the name Varinski. Everywhere they went, they would bring the darkness. They would
be
the Darkness.
To seal the pact, Konstantine promised to deliver the family’s holy icon, a single painting divided into four images of the Madonna.
Yet like my grandmother, Konstantine’s mother was a good woman. She refused to give in to Konstantine’s demands. She protected the icon, the heart of her home, with her life . . . so Konstantine used his knife and his brutal hands to murder her.
As her red blood spilled onto the white snow, she pulled him close and spoke in his ear.
Konstantine, you wish to reign at Satan’s right hand, and so you shall—until the day my greatest grandson is born.
The babushka lady’s eyes glowed with pain and sorrow.
He will be as steeped in evil as you could ever desire, a fitting heir to your legacy . . . yet I foresee his downfall. His downfall is a woman, and on the day he falls in love, the foundation of the devil’s pact will crack.
For she will love my greatest grandson, and their love will be strong, strong with the power of the Madonna herself, and on the day their fourth son is born, your master will face defeat.
Cocky with triumph, Konstantine laughed.
His mother held the icon against her chest and looked deeply into the next world, seeing what he could not.
When the sons are grown, your own descendants will unite against the devil. Against all odds, they will fight, and when they win the ultimate battle of good against evil, Satan will banish you from his good graces.
Konstantine answered,
Then I will have to make sure they do not win.
He plunged the knife deeper into her chest.
With her dying breath, she said,
I curse you, my son. You will burn in hell’s hottest fire.
He paid no heed to her prophecy or her curse. She was, after all, only a woman. He didn’t believe her dying words had the power to change the future— and more important, he would do nothing to jeopardize his pact with the Evil One.
But although Konstantine did not confess the prophecy his mother had made, Satan knew that Konstantine was a liar and a trickster. He suspected Konstantine of deception, and he comprehended the power of blood and kin and a mother’s dying words. So to ensure that he forever retained the Varinskis and their services, he secretly cut a small piece from the center of the icon, and gave it to a poor tribe of wanderers, promising it would bring them luck.
Then, while Konstantine drank to celebrate the deal, in a flash of fire the devil divided the Madonnas and hurled them to the four corners of the earth.
It happened a thousand years ago . . . but my grandmother remembers.
She wishes she could forget.
Yet that’s impossible, for in the middle of the steppes, on the exact spot where Konstantine Varinski murdered his mother, is a sprawling house filled with men with wide shoulders and legs like tree trunks, and skillful hands that could use a knife to gut a man even while they brutally crushed his woman’s windpipe.
They are Konstantine’s descendants . . . and sometimes I wonder if my grandmother was raped by one of those evil men, and bore a son, and gave him up to them, as so many innocent women have done throughout the years.
The pact with the devil cost Konstantine Varinski almost nothing, only his soul, and the souls of his children, and his children’s children, forever and ever.
My grandmother thinks that’s the way it is and will always be.
But forever isn’t in the devil’s power to promise, and a single moment can change the balance between good and evil. . . .
That moment came thirty-seven years ago, on the steppes of modern
Russia
, where a new Konstantine Varinski roamed and fought.
He was a worthy successor to the first Konstantine, a warrior, a leader . . . a wolf. Under his direction, the Darkness worked for dictators, industrialists, anyone with the gold to pay them. Because of their battle prowess, their endurance and decisiveness, they became rich, respected, and feared in Asia, in
Europe
, and beyond. They hunted down the innocent, fought in cruel wars, went where they were paid to go, and, with flawless ferocity, crushed uprisings and demanded obedience. They grew in wealth and power, until one day the new Konstantine met a Gypsy girl . . . and fell in love.
Such a small thing, love, and so easy for so many. But this was a love for all eternity, fierce, passionate, lasting. For Konstantine and Zorana, love consumed them. Nothing could keep them apart. Against all wishes and traditions, they wed.
The Varinskis shook their ham-sized fists and swore to kill the girl and rescue their leader from his insanity and her witchcraft.
The Gypsies chased the lovers, furious that a Varinski had stolen the girl who was their seer and good-luck charm.
In secret, Konstantine and Zorana fled to the
United States
. They changed their name to Wilder, and settled in the Cascade Mountains of Washington State. There they raised grapes, fruits, vegetables, and three sons, Jasha, Rurik, and Adrik, all handsome, all incorrigible, and all bound by the devil’s pact.
Like his father, Jasha had the ability to transform himself into a wolf.
Rurik changed into a hawk and flew on night’s wings.
Adrik grew up to be a man tortured by the clashing demands of duty and desire, and his dark soul showed itself in the form of a black panther.
Then, for the first time in a thousand years, a child was born to them. Not a son, as the babushka’s ancient prophecy had foretold, but a daughter.
Konstantine believed the birth was a miracle, and a sign the pact was failing.
And perhaps it was . . . but when the devil gambles with a man’s soul, he plays to win.
Chapter One
Spring, Almost Three Years Ago
Brown
University
,
Providence
,
Rhode Island
In her dorm room, Firebird Wilder sat with a pen in her hand, ignoring the stampede of jubilant students outside her open door, and stared at the Father’s Day card on her desk.
Guess what we’ve done?
Too coy.
Surprise!
Too flip.
We’re in this together.
Too chummy.
In the end, she took the plastic stick with the blue-toned results, placed it in the card, slipped it in the envelope, and sealed it without writing a single word. There were no words to explain . . . this.
‘‘Hey, Firebird!’’ Jacob Pilcher stuck his head in her open door. ‘‘What are you doing sitting there? It’s over. Let’s party!’’
She laughed at him, the honors student wearing his baseball cap sideways, a T-shirt that proclaimed,
Warning, Contents under Pressure
, and a silly grin. ‘‘I’m waiting for
Douglas
.’’
‘‘Ohh. The wonderful campus cop.’’ Jacob wiggled his fingers like a magician and barely kept the edge of sarcasm out of his voice. ‘‘Is he taking you to Bruno’s?’’
She slipped the envelope into her purse. ‘‘That’s the plan.’’
‘‘Okay. That’s okay. He’s cool.’’ Jacob gave her the thumbs-up. ‘‘But I guess that means you’re not drinking, huh?’’
‘‘I wasn’t drinking anyway. I’m twenty.’’
‘‘I know, I know, but there are ways of getting around—’’
Masculine shouts echoed down the corridor. ‘‘Come on, man!’’ ‘‘We’re leaving without you, man!’’
‘‘Gotta go!’’ Jacob saluted her. ‘‘See you there!’’ Still he lingered, looking at her. ‘‘You look great.’’ Without waiting for her to thank him, he turned and ran down the hall. ‘‘Wait. Wait, you jerks!’’
Jacob was a nice kid. A kid, even though he was a year older than she was, and he’d been in love with her ever since she moved into the dorm as the student resident assistant. He’d been crushed when she met
Douglas
, but he’d kept on smiling, and now he was cutting loose.
They were all cutting loose. It was the end of finals.
She went to the mirror and smiled.
Her blush was a peachy gold, her mascara was black, her blond hair was twisted into a clip at the back of her head, but Jacob was right—she did look great. Not even the dusting of loose powder could subdue the glow that lit her from within.
‘‘You’re beautiful, as always,’’ said a voice from the door.
She turned with a smile. ‘‘
Douglas
. You’re early!’’
‘‘I couldn’t stay away.’’ He walked in, blond hair rumpled from the breeze outside, holding a bouquet of red and yellow flowers in one hand and a big gold stuffed dog under the other.
She ran to him.
He dropped the dog and wrapped her in his embrace.
Leaning her head against his shoulder, she closed her eyes. He was warm and strong, firm and muscled. For her, everything about him spelled security and love—the everlasting kind, like her parents had. Unexpected tears filled her eyes, and she clutched him harder, hoping he didn’t notice.
Of course he did.
Douglas
noticed everything. He pushed her a little. ‘‘Hey, what’s wrong? Did something go wrong with your finals?’’

Other books

Guarded (True Alpha 2) by Alisa Woods
The Night Voice by Barb Hendee
Kraken Orbital by James Stubbs
A Useful Woman by Darcie Wilde
1982 by Jian Ghomeshi
Amendment of Life by Catherine Aird