Into the Flame (30 page)
The bottom floor was taken up with stalls, with logs for the Wilder Fourth of July bonfires, with buckets to douse the Wilder Fourth of July bonfires, and with great piles of things covered by horse blankets.
‘‘I wonder what’s under the blankets,’’ Tasya mused.
‘‘I don’t know. Whatever can it be?’’ Ann walked over and started to kick one.
Jasha moved with the speed of light, blocking her foot. ‘‘Don’t . . . kick . . . the detonators.’’
‘‘I never intended to,’’ Ann said sweetly. ‘‘I just wanted a little payback for all that smelly testosterone you’ve been spreading around lately.’’
He wiped at his pale face. ‘‘Very funny. Want me to carry the basket up to the hayloft?’’
‘‘We can do it. Just’’—Ann pushed at him—‘‘get out.’’
‘‘Adrik will stay out here and patrol the area,’’ Rurik said. ‘‘While the
men
plan the battle.’’
men
plan the battle.’’
‘‘Only the finest warrior is left to guard the Wilders’ greatest treasures.’’ Adrik smiled smugly at Jasha.
Zorana patted her second son’s cheek. ‘‘A wise man recognizes defeat when he experiences it.’’ She shut the doors in their faces.
Tasya and Ann were already helping Karen up the ladder to the hayloft. When they reached the top, Zorana handed Aleksandr into their outstretched arms and climbed the ladder herself.
The women shed their jackets and unwrapped Aleksandr.
‘‘The men won’t be able to hear us up here.’’ Ann spread the tablecloth on the floor and pulled mounds of hay over to act as chairs. ‘‘And I have something to say that they’re not going to like.’’
‘‘In that case’’—Tasya unloaded the picnic basket— ‘‘please tell us. Right now I look forward to making them miserable.’’
‘‘When Jasha and I first got together . . .’’ Ann blushed and tucked the afghan around her crossed legs. ‘‘I mean, when I first realized he was part of the pact, he was shot with an arrow and I had to pull it out.’’
‘‘Euw.’’ Karen wrinkled her nose.
‘‘I know.’’ Ann pressed her hand to her stomach. ‘‘Worse, while I had my hand inside his shoulder, I sliced my palm open and his blood mixed with mine. It changed me. Ever since, I’ve felt stronger, tougher.’’ She leaned forward and shook her finger to make her point. ‘‘But more important—when I faced off with a Varinski, I developed claws. Just for a second! But that saved my life.’’
‘‘Yes!’’ Karen eased herself down on a seat and set to work slicing off chunks of Brie. ‘‘When I tasted Adrik’s blood, I was fiercer, and I know I seem weak, but less than a month ago, I suffered a dozen broken bones, and my internal injuries were enough to kill me. The doctors say I have healed at an astonishing rate. I’ve thought all along it was Adrik’s blood that gave me back my health.’’
Tasya looked at Zorana. ‘‘I haven’t shared blood with Rurik, but if I could be a better warrior for it, and help with the battle . . . I would.’’
‘‘I haven’t shared blood with Konstantine, either.’’ The tension Zorana had borne since suffering that horrible vision relaxed, and she took her first full breath in almost two years. ‘‘But now I intend to. Of course, for me, the benefits outweigh the drawbacks.’’
‘‘What drawbacks could there be, Mama?’’ Tasya opened the bottle of wine and filled their glasses.
Ann was the most clear-thinking of the girls, and she answered promptly. ‘‘If we share the bond of blood with our husbands, we may share the same fate—if the pact isn’t broken and we are killed, we may be condemned to hell as demons.’’
‘‘Pfft!’’ Tasya waved that argument away as minor. ‘‘I choose hell over an eternity alone.’’
‘‘Yes.’’ Zorana sat on the floor, settled Aleksandr in her lap, and let her daughters-in-law prepare her plate. ‘‘I would rather burn with Konstantine than enjoy all the wonders of heaven.’’
‘‘Me, too,’’ Karen said.
‘‘And I,’’ Ann agreed.
Zorana offered her hand, palm down, over the tablecloth. Ann’s hand covered hers. Tasya was next, and Karen finished it off. The women met one another’s eyes and nodded in unison.
‘‘Our own pact,’’ Zorana said. ‘‘A good pact, to fight the evil that every night creeps closer.’’
‘‘Gramma.’’ Aleksandr tugged at her sleeve. ‘‘Treasures!’’
The women broke their handshake, lifted the wine-glasses, toasted one another, and drank.
Then Ann handed Zorana the wooden box, and the girls leaned closer as she opened it.
‘‘What are your treasures?’’ Karen hadn’t been in the family long enough to know.
‘‘Mementos from my former life with my Gypsy tribe, and the only possessions I brought when I emigrated from the
Ukraine
.’’ First Zorana pulled out a ball of yarn. ‘‘Here is the wool I spun as a girl.’’ She gave it to Aleksandr, who first rubbed it on his face, and then, like a basketball player, threw it in the basket.
Ukraine
.’’ First Zorana pulled out a ball of yarn. ‘‘Here is the wool I spun as a girl.’’ She gave it to Aleksandr, who first rubbed it on his face, and then, like a basketball player, threw it in the basket.
Tasya applauded. ‘‘Two points!’’
‘‘Yay!’’ Aleksandr lifted his little fists.
‘‘This is the spindle I used to spin the yarn.’’ Zorana smiled as a memory sprang to life. ‘‘It is also the spindle I used to stab Konstantine when he abducted me.’’
Karen laughed. ‘‘Really? You stabbed him?’’
‘‘He deserved it.’’ Zorana handed it to Karen.
‘‘I have no doubt about that,’’ Karen said fervently, and tested the point against her finger.
‘‘Here’s my hat, part of the Gypsy outfit.’’ Zorana settled a colorfully embroidered cap on Aleksandr’s head. ‘‘My grandmother made it for me. She was very wise. They told me that the first time she held me, a squalling newborn, she declared I had the Sight.’’
Aleksandr took off the cap and stood, then walked across the tablecloth and placed it on Ann’s head. ‘‘Pretty!’’ he said.
‘‘Thank you, Aleksandr.’’ Ann posed for him.
‘‘But those are simply tokens of my life.’’ Reverently, Zorana prepared to show her only true inheritance. ‘‘Now I will show you the treasure.’’
‘‘Treasure!’’ Aleksandr hurried back to Zorana’s side and leaned against her shoulder.
Taking an unpretentious brown leather sack from the box, Zorana worked the straps loose and reverently let four stones fall onto the tablecloth before her. One was a chunk of turquoise, worn smooth with handling. One was a shiny, sharp, black slice of obsidian. One was a large, uncut red crystal. Last was a malformed white stone, flat and roughly cut into a small square. ‘‘For a thousand years, this collection of stones has been given to the one seer who is born to every generation.’’
‘‘If I were still a reporter,’’ Tasya told Karen, ‘‘I’d do a story about this.’’
Zorana rubbed the turquoise with her thumb. ‘‘This is a piece of the sky.’’ Next she touched the obsidian. ‘‘This is a window into the night.’’
Karen slid her fingertip across the stone’s edge. ‘‘Ouch!’’ She pulled it back and examined her skin. ‘‘It cut me!’’
‘‘Obsidian is volcanic glass, and the edge can be as sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel,’’ Ann told her.
‘‘This is a frozen flame.’’ Zorana handed Karen the crimson stone.
Karen held it to the light, and deep in its heart, the stone gleamed bloodred with hints of blue. She gasped in awe. ‘‘Is that a ruby?’’
‘‘The biggest I’ve ever seen,’’ Tasya said.
Zorana cradled the white, malformed sliver of rock in the palm of her hand. ‘‘This is the greatest of all. This is purity.’’
‘‘What is it made of?’’ Karen asked.
‘‘Of purity,’’ Aleksandr answered with a toddler’s impatience. He gathered the four stones—blue sky, black night, red flame, and white purity—and placed them in a row before him. Then, one by one, he named them and placed them in Zorana’s cupped palms.
When the fourth stone, the white stone, touched her skin, the earth tilted on its axis, and in her brain, she heard the echoes of her own prophecy. . . .
A child will perform the impossible. And the beloved of the family will be broken by treachery . . . and leap into the fire.
She shuddered.
When she had witnessed the vision, no one understoodwhat it meant, yet one by one, the pieces had fallen into place. Again she heard the voice in her mind . . .
A child will perform the impossible. And the beloved of the family will be broken by treachery . . . and leap into the fire.
She didn’t know what it meant—was Aleksandr the child? And who was the beloved? But soon, too soon, she would. She could only pray that no one died before the pact was broken, and if someone must, better her than Konstantine. Better her than any of them. She would gladly sacrifice herself for her children, for their mates, for Aleksandr, and for Konstantine.
‘‘Gramma.’’ Aleksandr shook her. ‘‘Aleksandr want the treasures.’’
Without realizing what she had done, she’d clutched the stones tightly in her fists.
She glanced around.
Her daughters-in-law were laughing, sharing food, and they had noticed nothing. That was fine. They should have one hour not overshadowed by the pact, by war, by worry.
Zorana nibbled on her food and sipped her wine, and observed Aleksandr as he explained to Karen, for the third time, what the stones were and what they meant. She reminisced, ‘‘He reminds me of Adrik at that age, very focused and intense.’’
Her daughters-in-law exchanged glances.
Gently, Tasya said, ‘‘Aleksandr is Firebird’s son, and we all love him very much. But he’s not related to Adrik, or Jasha, or Rurik.’’
Zorana stared at Tasya. At Aleksandr. At the stones. She listened to his voice, so like her own sons’, as he made up a story involving the stones.
And she found herself on her feet. ‘‘That’s not true. Aleksandr
is
my grandchild.’’
is
my grandchild.’’
‘‘Mama?’’ Ann cast off the afghan and stood also. ‘‘Do you mean . . .’’
‘‘Aleksandr’s father is my son.’’ The realization both broke Zorana’s heart and gave her hope. ‘‘And Firebird has gone to get him.’’
Chapter Twenty-seven
About three hours after Doug had spoken with Vadim, the call came in on his cell phone.
‘‘Doug? It’s Gloria down at the diner. Listen, I hate to bug you at this hour, but there’re some weird guys wandering around downtown tonight. The alarm went off at the restaurant, and the sheriff called and asked me to check on it. He’s busy up on One-oh-one—got a three-car pileup. I’m surprised you’re not working it.’’ Nosy as always, that was Gloria.
But right now he was grateful. ‘‘What’s with the alarm?’’
‘‘The wind blew a board through the window, and hell, I can’t sleep anyway, so I came down to help clean up. These two guys wandered by, right in the middle of the storm, and one of them, when he talked, he sort of hissed.’’
‘‘Like a snake?’’
‘‘Yeah! Do you know him?’’
‘‘I thought he’d left town.’’
Until Vadim called him back in.
Until Vadim called him back in.
‘‘Like I said, weird. I think they must be on drugs.’’ Gloria wasn’t a simple woman to shake, but now she sounded profoundly uneasy.
‘‘Did you see which way they went?’’
‘‘They got in a car and headed up for the lookout. I thought they might make trouble up there.’’
‘‘Thanks, Gloria. I’ll go check it out.’’
‘‘Hey, Doug? You might call for backup. They really are nasty-looking guys.’’
‘‘Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.’’
He smiled in satisfaction. Vadim had done exactly as Doug expected he would: He had set up an ambush.
Now all Doug had to do was put himself in harm’s way to find out the details of the attack on the Wilders, and hopefully keep Vadim’s assassins away from Firebird long enough for her to return to her family and warn them.
For they
were
her family. They weren’t his—no one had ever wanted him before, and now they never would.
were
her family. They weren’t his—no one had ever wanted him before, and now they never would.
Other books
The Belgariad 5: Enchanter's End Game by David Eddings
Horrid Henry Tricks the Tooth Fairy by Francesca Simon
Hard Drive to Short by Matt Christopher
Deceived by Camilla Isles
Freudian Slip by Erica Orloff
All Kinds of Sluts - My Filthy Sluts: Volumes 1-3 by Jesse Flynn
How Literature Saved My Life by David Shields
The Archer From Kipleth (Book 2) by K.J. Hargan
Cicero by Anthony Everitt
A Column of Fire by Ken Follett