Into the Flame (24 page)
Huffy or not, he needed to know. ‘‘Your whole life. Have they been good parents and taken care of you?’’
‘‘Are you worried about what you’re getting into? They’re really good people. The whole family. I promise. I love them dearly, and they love me, and I just wish—’’ She stopped.
‘‘What do you wish?’’
‘‘I wish I were still their child. You don’t know—’’ She stopped again.
‘‘What don’t I know?’’
‘‘Look. If you don’t want them, I do.’’ She bounced up on her knees. ‘‘I know you’ve had a rough life. I can’t imagine how difficult it’s been for you, going through your first transformation and not knowing what was happening, having to grow up in an orphanage and on the streets, and getting a job at the police force when you were so young, so you could find your parents. It must have been awful. I’m not discounting that.’’
‘‘It was okay.’’ He didn’t know what else to say, how to ease her increasing agitation. He didn’t even understand what she was agitated about.
‘‘But here you are at last. Your dream is coming true. You’ve found your family. Papa and Mama, Jasha, Rurik, and Adrik.’’
‘‘And Aleksandr,’’ he reminded her.
‘‘And Aleksandr. How could I forget Aleksandr?’’ Her hands were shaking. Her voice was rising. ‘‘You’re stepping into this spot ready-made for you, and you know what? For you to do that, I have to step out. All my life, I’ve been the miraculous girl child. I’ve been the baby. I’ve been spoiled. Now it’s you. And like I said, I know you’ve had it tougher than me, I know I’m being selfish, but this is what I feel, and I have the right to my feelings.’’
‘‘Wow. No wonder you were so angry at me for being mad about Aleksandr.’’
‘‘You have the right to your feelings, too.’’ But she spoke quickly and without an ounce of sincerity. ‘‘Just don’t act like it’s a job offer and you’re not sure you want the position. You take it and be grateful, and I’ll stand on the outside and try to be gracious.’’
He thought hard, trying to say the right thing. Instead he said, ‘‘So that’s what the DNA test was really for.’’
‘‘Yes, but the test isn’t necessary now. Once you told me about being found in
Nevada
, I knew you were that baby.’’ A tear slipped down her cheek, and angrily she dashed it away. ‘‘Once I discovered my parents weren’t my biological parents, it was easy to make the connection between the golden cougar who stalked me and the child my parents had lost. You are my parents’ son.’’
Nevada
, I knew you were that baby.’’ A tear slipped down her cheek, and angrily she dashed it away. ‘‘Once I discovered my parents weren’t my biological parents, it was easy to make the connection between the golden cougar who stalked me and the child my parents had lost. You are my parents’ son.’’
He had to get away, get a hold of himself, before he blurted out what he’d done. Gathering up his half-eaten meal, he said, ‘‘You’re hungry. I’ll fix soup.’’
Firebird watched him stride out of the room, and her stomach sank.
She would have been happier if he’d yelled at her. Instead he had looked exactly as he had fifteen minutes ago—emotionless and still, like a pond waiting for a stone to be dropped into its depths.
When she’d met him at Brown, he hadn’t been like that at all. He’d been intense, filled with emotions that bubbled just below the surface, hidden fire that dared her to touch the heart of the flame. In those days, the idea of playing with fire held its own attractions, and she’d taken the dare.
What a child she had been.
With a sigh, she slipped out of bed and made her shaky way to the bathroom. It had been remodeled in cool shades of blue and warm shades of gold, and contained a large glass shower, two copper sinks, and a toilet hidden in its own cubbyhole. As she used the toilet, she grinned at the magazine rack in there. Typical guy, to think of that.
As she washed her hands, she kept her attention on the faucet, which looked like an old-fashioned pump. Very cool, not at all the kind of thing she would have suspected
Douglas
would pick out—and as long as she stared at the faucet, she didn’t have to look in the bronze-framed mirror over the sink.
Douglas
would pick out—and as long as she stared at the faucet, she didn’t have to look in the bronze-framed mirror over the sink.
She didn’t yet have the strength to view her reflection and her poor, half-shorn head.
She heard him in the bedroom, and met him at the bathroom door.
‘‘Are you all right?’’ His gaze swept her from head to foot, and while his concern warmed her, there wasn’t a scrap of passion in his eyes.
Couldn’t he see beyond the flannel nightgown?
Apparently not.
‘‘I’m fine.’’ She went back to the bed. She was moving more easily. Her ankle no longer felt as if it would crack. The pain in her joints was easing.
‘‘No bleeding? No injuries that I—’’
‘‘I’m fine.’’ She lay down, pulled the covers up, and glared.
He offered a capped and insulated plastic cup. ‘‘Tomato basil. I hope you like it.’’
‘‘I like it a lot.’’ She peeled back the top and took a sip. The heat, texture, and flavors struck the perfect chord, and she sighed with delight. ‘‘Wonderful.’’
‘‘Good.’’ He sat in his chair, rested his elbows on his thighs, cupped his hands, and stared at her.
‘‘Are you okay?’’ She slurped a little. Embarrassing, but he was right: She really had been hungry.
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘Are you angry at me for not telling you about my parents . . . your parents sooner?’’
‘‘No.’’
She took a long drink of the chunky soup, chewed, and swallowed, then tentatively asked, ‘‘Then what are you thinking?’’
‘‘That I almost got you killed.’’
‘‘You said that before, I think.’’ She tried to remember the moment, and got the vague impression of sloshing waves. ‘‘In the ocean.’’
‘‘It’s truer than ever.’’
‘‘No, it’s not. The Varinskis are after me. They don’t know about you. They can’t.’’
He stirred. Stood. Walked toward the window and braced his arms against the frame. The morning light bathed him, tangling in his blond hair, etching his tanned skin with pale gold. His chiseled jaw was thrust forward, his brows drawn. . . .
‘‘You
are
angry.’’
are
angry.’’
‘‘Not at you.’’ He turned to face her. ‘‘I was—mad that you’d left me without a word. For almost three years, I’ve been furious that you’d abandoned me, as my parents had. I never suspected you saw me as a cougar. When you came here and told me about Aleksandr, I was livid that you’d had my son and not told me. But now I understand. I understand everything, and you must never feel guilty for not telling me about my . . . about Konstantine and Zorana.’’ He came to the bed, sat, and leaned toward her. ‘‘Three years ago, I hurt you by not confiding in you and asking for your help, but don’t for a minute believethat I told you I loved you and lied. I meant every word.’’
‘‘You loved me?’’ Was he telling the truth, or telling her what she wanted to hear?
‘‘Before I ever met you, I searched your private records—and found scrambled information. It could have been a computer glitch, or operator error, but I didn’t think so.’’
One side of her mouth tilted up in satisfaction. ‘‘My brother’s wife, Ann . . . she’s good with computers, and getting better all the time. She’s the one who scrambled the information. It’s tough to find any details about the Wilders.’’
‘‘I went through high school knowing what I wanted to do—become a police officer. Because a man who can change into a cougar, who can track any criminal, can get a job anywhere in the
US
, and cops have an in when it comes to digging around for information.’’ He continued to watch her,
scrutinize
her. ‘‘And because, as you said, I wanted to find my roots.’’
US
, and cops have an in when it comes to digging around for information.’’ He continued to watch her,
scrutinize
her. ‘‘And because, as you said, I wanted to find my roots.’’
‘‘If you looked at all, you found the Varinskis.’’ She put the empty cup aside. ‘‘They’re on the Internet, both as a legend and as a corporate entity.’’
‘‘I did find them. I found them by the time I was thirteen. I e-mailed them. I told them that I was like them.’’
Douglas
looked back at his adolescent self with a derisive smile. ‘‘They never replied. Looking back, I realized they must get a hundred e-mails a day from kids who think it would be cool to turn into animals.’’
Douglas
looked back at his adolescent self with a derisive smile. ‘‘They never replied. Looking back, I realized they must get a hundred e-mails a day from kids who think it would be cool to turn into animals.’’
‘‘From kids who read too much
Harry Potter
.’’ When she thought about the Varinskis receiving e-mails from innocent children, when she thought about them hearing from
Douglas
, she wanted to shudder with fear. When she realized that Aleksandr would do things equally stupid, equally dangerous, she wanted to wrap herself around him and protect him from the demons who saw humans as prey—and from the humans who saw children as targets.
Harry Potter
.’’ When she thought about the Varinskis receiving e-mails from innocent children, when she thought about them hearing from
Douglas
, she wanted to shudder with fear. When she realized that Aleksandr would do things equally stupid, equally dangerous, she wanted to wrap herself around him and protect him from the demons who saw humans as prey—and from the humans who saw children as targets.
‘‘Even before I graduated from high school, I went into law enforcement. I made my reputation right away.’’ He didn’t change expressions, but something about the way he held himself made her think he was proud of what he did in his work. ‘‘I used that reputation to search for clues about my background. My best theory was that my father was a Varinski, maybe just traveling through, who had found a woman and raped her—I figured that was the most likely explanation, considering that I had been abandoned by my mother.’’
Firebird nodded. That was logical; Varinskis never mated, never married. Their sons were born from quick, brutal assaults. In fact, the Varinskis’ initial indignation about her father stemmed from the seeming insanity of his love and marriage. Later they had another reason for swearing revenge: When they chased after the newlyweds, to protect his wife, Konstantine had killed his brother.
Douglas
continued, ‘‘Then I found a blog written by one of the young Varinskis. He claimed that since their old leader, Konstantine, had abandoned them to live in
America
with his wife, the clan had weakened and needed a change of leadership.’’
continued, ‘‘Then I found a blog written by one of the young Varinskis. He claimed that since their old leader, Konstantine, had abandoned them to live in
America
with his wife, the clan had weakened and needed a change of leadership.’’
Firebird laughed derisively. ‘‘I can’t believe he was dumb enough to put that out on the Internet.’’
‘‘Have you seen the stuff people put out there? The first thing an officer does when faced with a crime is go to Facebook and see if someone has bragged or confessed. It saves a lot of trouble.’’
They shook their heads in unison, two people united by their dedication to maintaining their privacy.
‘‘I thought the Konstantine story was worth following up on,’’ Douglas said, ‘‘but in the
United States
, there were no Varinskis I could find. So I looked for Russian immigrants, specifically Russian immigrants in
Nevada
and the western
United States
.’’
United States
, there were no Varinskis I could find. So I looked for Russian immigrants, specifically Russian immigrants in
Nevada
and the western
United States
.’’
‘‘There are a bunch in northern
Washington
.’’
Washington
.’’
‘‘I talked to them. They all knew stories about Varinskis, stories they would tell their kids to scare them into behaving. They’d even heard about the Konstantine who left the family to marry a Gypsy, and how the clan had sworn vengeance. But they didn’t know where he was, or even if it was true.’’
‘‘Because Konstantine and Zorana had been careful to stay away.’’ She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. ‘‘Too many Russians would recognize a Varinski when they saw one.’’
‘‘Yes. You’re filling in the gaps.’’ Gratification eased the tautness of his face. ‘‘Keeping the tale of Konstantine in mind, I explored the immigration records and found a Russian immigrant couple who had arrived at about the right time, and who had a very unusual last name—Wilder.’’
‘‘That is
not
an unusual last name,’’ she said tartly.
not
an unusual last name,’’ she said tartly.
‘‘It is for a Russian immigrant. So I looked for the Wilders’ current location, and couldn’t find it. But I did find Wilder Winery in Napa Valley, and Jasha Wilder, born in the US with a very Russian first name, who had bragged to his employees about his sister, who got a full-ride scholarship to Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island.’’
Douglas
made her uneasy; he was too clever.
made her uneasy; he was too clever.
‘‘So I found you, and you thought you were so wise, so canny about not giving out information about your family.’’
‘‘I was!’’
‘‘You were a baby.’’ Amusement flickered across his cool face. ‘‘I could have cajoled information out of you, but seducing you was my mistake. I spent so much time talking to you, finding out that you spoke some Russian, that you knew your way around glass art because your best friend was an artist, that you painted for fun but took software programming and Japanese so you could work for the winery, that you liked yellow roses and red carnations. . . .’’
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