Kept (22 page)

“How are you doing? Really?” My brother’s face was serious.

“Very tired. Like I’ve been hit below the belt so many times that I wonder how I’m even standing.”

“Do you need anything? Money?”

I shook my head. “I need time to forget what’s happened to us. Time to prepare for what’s to come.”

Alex laid his hand over mine on his daughter. “Just let me know if I can help. I want to make sure you’re ready for the trials in two weeks.”

“Thanks, Alex.”

I really was grateful for his offer, since I’d need all the help I could muster to recover in time.

After visiting with Alex and Sveta, I stopped at my parents’ house to check on my mother and grandmother. I had plans to work the Wednesday shift tomorrow and wanted to make sure they were doing well.

I expected my grandma’s caretaker, Aunt Olga, to answer the door, but Auntie Yelena answered it instead.

The fun just never ends, does it?

“Can I help you?”

My ears told me my mother wasn’t home—so I had no one on my side today.

“I’ve come to check on Mom and Grandma now that everything’s settled,” I said respectfully, averting my eyes, as she expected. Somehow I managed to slouch my shoulders as well. Hopefully she’d noticed my effort.

“Your mother isn’t here.” She continued to block the door and keep me out in the cold.

“Then may I see Grandma? I’d like to tell her personally that I’ve returned with father’s
honor
.”

Her jaw tightened, and I suspected I’d said the right thing. Especially since she hadn’t lifted a finger to help or advise my brother and me during this difficult time.

“Natalya, is that you?” Grandma called from upstairs.

“Yes, Grandma.” I wanted to look Auntie Yelena in the eye so badly. I practically itched to stand up to her.

But I didn’t.

I took an uncertain step forward. A slight movement of my leg. Anything more would’ve been an open act of dominance.

My grandma called my name again.

Yelena stared at me long enough to make a point: She was in control here. Then she reluctantly stepped aside.

Even with Auntie Yelena’s virulent presence, my parents’ home smelled of fine food: freshly baked
rogaliki
filled with strawberry jam. My mother enjoyed cooking for anyone with an open mouth. My auntie Yelena, on the other hand, detested doing any manual labor. As a so-called retiree—who shouldn’t be called one, by the way, since she’s never had a job to retire from—Yelena had enjoyed running her household as the wife of a fur trader. At a height barely reaching her chin, her husband, Uncle Kolya, often traveled to Europe and Russia for business. He’d made a brief appearance at my brother’s wedding, offered the glowing couple their dead animal fur gifts, and then promptly returned home. Only to have Yelena come back here. Perhaps all his time overseas was meant to make his heart grow fonder of his lovely wife.
Yeah, right
.

As usual, Yelena wore a garment with fur on it. My nose told me her expensive cashmere sweater had rabbit along the collar. It appeared fluffy and expensive. At least she didn’t wear wolf fur. The Code forbade us from hunting them.

I headed into the kitchen and prepared two cups of tea, along with a plate of baked goods. Grandma entered the room not long after to join me at the kitchen table.

“I’m so glad you’re all right,” she said. “I prayed you and Sasha would return home safely.”

She took the tea I offered, then said, “A new baby and a new start for our family is a blessing.”

I grinned, thinking of little Sveta. “Could you ever imagine Alex married with a baby?”

She seemed thoughtful for a moment—the lines on her elderly face made her look serene. “Yes, I could. With time, naturally. Eventually everything flows forward to its rightful place. Someday, even you will get married to a good man and have children.”

Her eyes had that playful glee she usually hid from others.

“I don’t see that happening, to be honest. Not with my track record.”

“Give yourself more credit, Granddaughter. Sometimes the runt of the litter can have the biggest bite.”

While we sat drinking tea, I briefly told her about my trip to Maine. She nodded at the appropriate times until a question came to mind. “When I delivered the truck to the Jackson pack, I encountered a woman I’d never met before. She looked to be around Mom’s age. No more than one hundred years or so.” Visions of the woman’s transformation flashed before my eyes as I spoke.

“She knew the old magic. I saw her undo a warlock’s spell on a lock. And she …” I tried to find the words, but fear bit into me. Just the memory of what my grandmother had become made me uncomfortable. “She knew some of the magic you know.”

Grandma was quiet for a bit. “What did she look like?”

“She had dark brown hair. Brown eyes. What I remember the most about her was a bright red birthmark on her cheek—about the size of a closed fist. The pack leader called her Tamara.”

My grandmother burst out laughing. “So Tamara’s
her name now? She couldn’t transform her way out of a burlap sack. I’ve met her before. Back when your mother was around your age. Your father came calling to see your mother quite often around that time.”

“They courted in New York, right?” I’d finished the tea and poured another serving. My stomach growled, so I next dived into some kasha. A nice bowl of porridge would warm my belly.

Grandma nodded and continued, “Tatiana, as she called herself then, had emigrated from Romania to America to find someone to teach her the old magic. She had her eye on your father until she learned my daughter wanted him as well. She had the worst Russian accent I’d ever heard. She kinda sounded like a cat in heat every time she spoke.”

I just about choked on my tea.

“She thought she was doing my family a favor by not standing in the way of their courtship. That I’d be so grateful to her for allowing my daughter to fetch a good husband, I’d teach her my old magic.” Grandma leaned toward me. “Do you know what I told her?”

“Based on the fact that she didn’t complete the transformation like you did, I’m assuming you told her to have a nice day.”

“And more! Old magic isn’t a bag of tricks to be bartered or sold to the highest bidder.”

After selling goods to other supernaturals at the flea market, I’d learned a great deal. But none of the awe of learning something new compared to right now. It was like discovering a hidden part of one’s heritage. “How did you learn? From your mother?”

Grandma made a sour face. “No one in my village had the memory for such a thing. Old magic isn’t about strength. It’s about the power here.” She tapped her forehead. “I’m centuries old and hard of hearing on most days, but I remember my house, my village, even
my old friends, as if it were yesterday. That’s my gift, and why old magic settles well within my bones.”

I chewed on this information as Auntie Yelena came into the kitchen to get some coffee. Or to eavesdrop more closely. She made a rude noise. “It isn’t good to teach this girl such things. She doesn’t have the mind for it.”

Grandma didn’t say another thing until Yelena left the room.

“Don’t listen to her,” she said. “Anyone who speaks to you like that just envies what you have.”

My grandma always had nice things to say about me. Too bad this particular one wasn’t true. “I don’t have anything she wants.”

Grandma offered me a half smile. “I’d tell you what you have compared to her, but then you’d never learn for yourself why you are so powerful.”

I tried to nod and smile. That’s what grandmas were supposed to do—make their grandchildren feel good about themselves.

Since my grandmother seemed open to talking about old magic at the moment, now seemed like a good time to ask a couple more questions. “If only a good memory is required for old magic, then why don’t more wolves know how to do it?”

Grandma’s eyebrow rose. “Most wolves obey the Code—also, most don’t want to pay the price that old magic requires. They are unprepared for the even exchange that must be given for a spell.”

After Grandma had saved me, she’d slept for several days. I’d thought we’d lost her. She’d told me later that she’d given up a piece of her life to save mine. Which might mean that old magic requires an exchange of one’s life force—like the magic used by the spring fairies. Lisbetta took the life force of those wolves and used the magic in other ways.

I sighed deeply. Everything I’d learned so far should’ve been a warning, but I wanted to learn more. Old magic was like this forbidden fruit I wanted to pluck and collect. Any wolf could do it, so that meant even someone low on the totem pole, like me, could cast a spell.

I chewed on my thoughts until Grandma spoke.

“I tell you what,” she said. “If I wanted to teach you something simple, do you think you could learn it?”

A simple spell? Old magic was never that simple, but I was game. “Of course. Would it make me invisible? Fly?”

“I’m not that foolish, Natalya. You memorize the words. If you can do that, then at the right time I’ll teach you how to invoke the power behind them. Deal?”

“Of course.”

“Just remember. With everything there’s a price to be paid. For this spell in particular. But then, you know us Lasovskaya women love to break the rules, no?”

This sounded too good to be true. “What price will be paid? Will I grow older faster every time I do it?”

Grandma rolled her eyes. “Just listen and trust your grandma.”

For the next twenty minutes, Grandma chanted. As to the tongue she spoke or what the gibberish might’ve meant, I couldn’t place it. All I knew was I sat across from my grandmother, holding her hand and feeling at peace. The phrase she recited was about fifteen syllables, and it rolled off the tongue with the guttural reflections of a Middle Eastern language. I clung to the words and cradled them close, saying them with my grandmother. Each inflection, each clip. The words flowed off my lips, and before long I spoke alone.

When I looked up, Grandma chuckled. “Not bad for your first time. You still need to clean up a few words, but you didn’t butcher too many.”

“Are you sure you won’t tell me what the spell does?”

“You keep trying and see if you can convince me to tell you.”

I laughed. Like Grandma had said, her eyesight might be weakening, but I suspected she’d see through my attempts to get the information from her from a mile away.

“I’m glad we had this time together. Did Mom ever show an interest?”

“None of my daughters did. Your mother the most of all. You know how she feels about magic.”

I didn’t need my grandmother to tell me about the bitterness my mother felt toward old magic or anything having to do with spellcasters. If I brought a man like Nick home with the prospects of marriage, my mother wouldn’t be happy about it. Not even a Russian white wizard with money would be welcome.

“Why is she so angry?”

Grandma tapped the rim of her coffee cup. “My Anna hasn’t told you about what happened to her not long after she married your father, has she?”

I frowned. “No, she hasn’t.”

“Back when your parents were young, in the early 1940s, we all lived in New York. They were a young couple back then. We lived in Brooklyn, settled with the European immigrants on one side and groups of witches, warlocks, and wizards on the other. Back in those days, the immigrants had brought more than their individual cultures over the pond. The supernaturals arrived with them as well.

“We were a happy lot.” She frowned. “Except for the warlocks and wizards. They fought all the time, like a bunch of unruly kids.”

“Why?”

“Ehh, the story is a long and never-ending one. The warlocks got into trouble. The wizards would have to clean it up.

“Anyway, I’d hoped for Anna to have children immediately, but she told me she wanted to work hard to make money to travel with your father. She wanted to see the world.”

My hand played with the chain holding the seashell while she spoke. I could picture New York in the early twentieth century. All the clothes and smells. None of them like the old country.

“Anna worked as a housemaid for a family in one of those nicer neighborhoods. She’d come home late in the evenings. Most folks worked long shifts back in those days, but us werewolves could work double that time without tiring.

“One night, she didn’t come home. Fyodor came to my place to check to see if she was there, but I hadn’t seen her. Anna didn’t come home for three days. When she returned, she wasn’t the same.”

Grandma grabbed the napkin, and then her voice lowered. “Compared to other girls, Anna was breathtaking. We’d suspected she’d been raped, something like that. She was barely alive. So weak and pale. A milkman had found her in an alley and brought her to us. Anna wouldn’t speak for weeks, and when she did talk about it … well, we learned it had been far worse.”

I watched her swallow slowly, obviously searching for a way to tell her tale without crying.

“A wizard had captured her on her way home. He’d been following her for over a week, apparently. He took her that night and caged her in his home. Over days, he stole her life force from her, for his healing magic—for a spell to save his dying witch wife.”

A gasp escaped my mouth, and I couldn’t help but think of Nick. Of what he’d said to me about what had happened at the battle:
“Yeah, I did something. Something I regret.”

It couldn’t be true—yet suddenly, deep inside, I knew it was.

My weakness. All that pain and my slowed healing. Nick had done something to me to save us. He’d used my life force. I finally found the words to speak to my grandmother, feeling numb inside. “No wonder Mom has such animosity against them.”

“Yes. Your father never found the wizard who took her. He searched for years and never found that man, or his wife.”

“So you think the spell worked?”

“We don’t know for certain. But your mother said it most likely did, since the wizard set her free.”

My throat was painfully dry, but I managed to speak, to say what was on my mind. “What would Mother think if I ever wanted to be with a wizard?”