Rise of the Firebird (26 page)

“There’s a Darkness death squad in Budapest who would tell you that I’m not as easy to kill as you would think,” Silvian said as he flicked the water from his swords. “But I will honour your request.”

“So, you are the sex demon I keep hearing about,” Fox said looking him up and down. His black eyes glittered with mischief. “Huh, I thought you’d be taller.” She walked back to the fridge for another beer, her hands shaking only a little.

Over the next few days, Fox and Harley barely saw Cerise and Silvian. They received a checkin text message every day from Cerise. She claimed she was giving Silvian the grand tour of New Orleans, a city he had last visited during the first French settlement.

Fox was focussing on a design for a local history professor with a fetish for motorcycles and Lovecraft. With intense concentration, she drew long spindly tentacles and black lifeless eyes. The smell of expensive aftershave, cinnamon, sandalwood and rain enveloped the office.

“I need you,” a deep voice said right next to her ear. She jumped, a squiggle marking her design.

“Excuse me?” she said defensively as she swivelled her chair. “Don’t they teach you about personal space in Budapest?” Silvian took a quick step back so she didn’t crash into him.

Silvian smiled as he gave her a small bow. “My apologies, I only wished to get a closer look at what you were so rapturously focussed on. Cthulhu?”

“The one and only. Nice to see you found some clothes.” He was wearing a very deep red dress shirt, neat black designer jeans and a watch worth more than Fox’s house.

“Yes, sweet Cerise has dragged me from one side of the city to the other in an attempt to make me look presentable. She even made me get my hair cut.” His long black curls had been trimmed so they only touched his shoulders in ebony loops.

“Looking like that in the wrong part of town, people will think you are either a pimp or a drug dealer.”

“Are you saying you don’t like the way I look?”

“I say what I mean, so don’t try to twist it. Are you looking for someone? I haven’t seen Cerise all day and Harley is off on a delivery.”

“I told you when I walked in, I need you.” The air grew warm in the tiny room, making Fox’s tongue stick to the roof of her mouth. She could smell the desert, ozone, heat, and sex. He radiated sex from his perfectly manicured goatee to his perfectly polished shoes. Fox threw her pencil at him and watched as it bounced off his chest.

“Cut it out,” she demanded. “You can tell me what you want without the tricks.”

“I’m not using any tricks. Honest. I’ve a list of equipment I need and I was directed to you to help me.” He passed a piece of paper to her, his warm fingers brushing hers. Fox scanned over the list, her eyebrows going up the further she got to the bottom.

“You need all of this?”

“Yes, is it possible?”

“Oh, it’s possible but it depends how you feel about breaking and entering.” She saw the gleam in his eyes. “I see from that smirk you’re fine with it. Next issue is where you want to put it all. You can’t have this kind of equipment in a hotel.”

“Didn’t anyone tell you? You and I are going to be neighbours.”

“Of course we are,” she groaned.

Anya watched Yvan circle down and into the shell of a burned out house. “Be careful, Anya, we don’t know if the attackers are still here,” Aramis cautioned as he handed her Yvan’s coat. Soft musical noises were coming from the firebird. It was a sad song, one filled with waste and grief.

“Yvan?” Anya asked gently as she shuffled through the ash. The firebird spread its large wings in an attempt to shield her from the horror, but it was too late. Anya had already seen the bodies of two children clinging to each other in the remains of the cot. Anya stumbled backwards, covering her face quickly with Yvan’s coat. Her power reached out and she felt all the terror, pain and confusion around her.

“
Shalosť
,” Yvan’s hand rested on her shoulder and she passed him his coat.

“Why would they do this? They were villagers. They wouldn’t have been any threat to anyone.”

“They did it because they were bored and knew that they could,” Yvan muttered. Something in his tone made her open her eyes and look up at him. His face was twisted with anger and pain. “This village used to be a part of my kingdom.”

“Really? Are you sure?” Yvan took her hand and led her outside to what used to be the town square. He pointed to a stone statue that had been pulled down, “That’s my father.” Anya tilted her head to the side to examine the stern frozen features better. She could believe he’d be a man that would love his apples more than his own children.

“Wow, that’s what you look like when you are angry at me,” she tried to tease, though her heart wasn’t in it. When Yvan didn’t respond, she squeezed his hand, “Stop it, Yvan. This isn’t your fault.”

“If I’d come home when I hatched perhaps…”

“Yvan, this isn’t your problem or your kingdom anymore. I very much doubt the new rulers would’ve stepped aside for you. I don’t know how any of this ruling stuff works, but it’s the current prince’s job to protect their people, not yours.”

“I don’t expect you to understand, Anyanka,” he replied and let her hand go. She watched him walk away, arguing with herself whether or not she should follow.

“Let him be,
merch fach
,” Eldon cautioned, “he needs to grieve.”

“Not everyone in the world is Yvan’s responsibility.”

“No, but kings are tied to the land by bonds of magic and blood that can never be unravelled. He can feel the pain of the land and of his people. They suffer, so he suffers.”

“Then he isn’t going to do it alone,” Anya said stubbornly as she hurried after him.

Eldon Blaise watched her go, the strange shamanitsa of the Crossroads. “Is she always like that?” he asked Aramis over his shoulder. The Álfr looked at the silvery ponytail swishing in the distance.

“Like what?”

“Pushy, stubborn, pig headed and incapable of taking advice.”

Aramis smiled sadly, “Only where Yvan is concerned. The pair of them are like that. I blame it on their Russian blood.”

“Do you think they realise how much they love each other?” Eldon asked thoughtfully. Aramis shook his head.

“They’re both as clueless as the other.”

“It was no accident that his egg found its way into her hands. I wonder who pulled those strings.”

“And for what purpose,” Aramis added.

“Her magic changes when she is around the both of you. Have you noticed this?”

“Nothing escapes you, does it?” Aramis’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you really? Eldon Blaise can’t be the name you were born with.”

“And Aramis is hardly the name the Ljosálfr granted you. We know the true power of names and therefore disclose them to no one. You understand this so why question me?”

“Because I don’t trust you. Your arrival is far too convenient, your knowledge too vast and your magic too powerful. If you think to take her and use her for your own designs or power play, you will fail.”

“Oh, no doubt about it. Isn’t it interesting how time changes things? From what Anya has told me, this is exactly the way Trajan reacted towards you when you were drawn to her.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that there are powers working in this world, in all worlds, greater than you can possibly perceive or understand. You found Anya when she needed guidance and a teacher. You arrived unexpectedly, demanding trust and with more magic than Anya had encountered. She has outgrown your level of power and even though you’ve much you could teach her, it isn’t what she needs to learn. And here I am, sent on an unknown path to find an untried, unknown girl very far from my Celtic homeland. I have the power to stop her creating any real accidents while she learns and I have enough knowledge and experience to give her the guidance she needs. My intentions are noble. These worlds don’t need another war, she has the ability to stop them, and I’ve the ability to help her. Satisfied?”

“For now, but I still don’t trust you.”

“I should hope not,” Eldon grinned. “I don’t want to imagine what the world would be like if people trusted every strange man they met in the woods.”

Yvan was walking around houses and through the churned up streets when Anya found him again.

“Go away, Anya,” he said as he stepped through another broken doorway.

“No.” He didn’t reply from the inside of the house. With a sigh, Anya put her hand on the doorframe to follow. As she did, a flash of pain, panic and screams filled her mind’s eye. Her vision shifted and she saw Yanka laughing as she flicked a piece off the game board.

“Yanka’s fault,” she whispered as she let go. Hugging herself against the echoes in her mind, she stumbled down the side of the house and to the edge of the forest.

“Close it off, Anya,” she murmured. “Close it off, close it off, close it off.” She rubbed at her hand, trying to wipe the stain of the memory from it. A deep growl reverberated from the blackberry bushes, golden eyes focussing on her. Anya backed up slowly as a grey wolf slinked through the undergrowth. It was larger than a normal wolf and Anya fought the urge to turn and run. A russet wolf joined the first. In seconds, Anya was surrounded.

“I don’t know if you can understand me or not, but I want you to know I didn’t burn the village and I don’t mean any harm…” Anya began but was cut off by Katya’s battle cry in the distance. The wolves around her growled deeply in an echoing unison. The grey’s shoulders bunched to jump as something screeched overhead. Yvan landed heavily in the circle, half bird, half man. Burning wings were out of his shoulders, his hair a golden halo of fire. The wolves yelped and fell back as a cry emanated from him, high pitched and angry.

Katya heard the firebird’s cry as a wall of white fur and muscled flesh hit her. She fell sideways and rolled as a white wolf turned to make another assault. Katya pulled the silver knives from her belt, ready for it. A growl rolled out through its teeth, pale blue eyes flashing with menace. There was a streak of blood on its front paws and the pain in Katya’s shoulder confirmed it was hers.

“Come on, you bastard,” she spat. The wolf jumped and Katya struck fast, dodging the blow and landing one of her own. The wolf yelped as the silver bit into its side. The cut was shallow but the splash of crimson on the white fur blazed as a challenge.

“One for one,” Katya whispered as she moved to get a better footing. She was hit hard from behind and fell forward as a grey wolf clawed up her back. She kicked up, striking its stomach and ribs. It fell off her and she scrambled to find her knife. A deep growl stopped her. The white wolf’s massive jaws were right by her head. She could smell the blood and wet musk of its fur, its meaty breath on her cheek.

A black shadow ran from the buildings in front of her and connected with the white wolf in a roar of claws, snarls, and ripping flesh. Winded and bleeding, Katya rolled to her side and gripped her knife in the dirt. Izrayl had the white wolf by its front flank as Katya got to her feet and looked for the grey wolf she had kicked. With stunning strength and violence, Izrayl tossed the white wolf in the air. There was a snapping, tearing of fur, and a naked woman landed on the ground in a roll.

“They are
volk krovi
?” Katya shouted. Izrayl morphed back into his human form, his body covered in bleeding scratches and teeth marks.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“I’ll live.”

“Not if I have a say in it.” The naked woman was on her feet and glaring at Katya. Her hair was long and albino fair, falling down to her hips in a blood streaked mess. She had the same pale eyes as her wolf form.

“You’ll not touch her again,” Izrayl snarled.

“You would protect her?! She’s a Domotetsky whore of a hunter!”

“I’m so thrilled that my reputation precedes me,” Katya said calmly, trying not to slouch against the throbbing pain in her back.

“Yana, she’s with me, which means she is friends of the
volk krovi
. Everyone here is, so stop this attack,” Izrayl demanded. She snarled before shaking her hair out and morphing, taking off in a streak of silver light.

“Friend of yours?”

“Not exactly,” he admitted as he turned to look at the wound on her shoulder. “This will need cleaning.”

“Later, but I need to find Aleksandra first. Especially if your little friend has it in for my family. Go and find the others, I’ll get her and Mychal.” Izrayl touched her face before morphing and disappearing through the burnt houses.

Katya hurried towards the sounds of fighting and tried not to laugh when she got there. Aleksandra was standing with her back to a crumbling wall with Mychal in front of her, a long silver spear in his hands. Four
volk krovi
were lying on the ground wounded. Another six were guarding him but every time one made a move, Mychal was there to smack the impetuous pup to the ground.

“Got everything under control here, brother?” Katya asked as she ducked through the gap in the line he made for her.

“Yes.”

“Okay then,” Katya said deflated. “Alright, you wolves, listen up! Yana said to tell you to stop attacking us. Go find her!”

The wolves hesitated, dancing unsure on the pads of their feet. A howl echoed through the burnt streets and the
volk krovi
turned as one and fled.

“Are you okay, Katya?” Aleksandra asked. “You’re bleeding everywhere.”

“I’m fine, my shirt is ruined but I’m not.” Despite her bravado, she was aching and stinging from head to toe. “How many did you kill?”

“None,” Mychal assured, “they’re unconscious.” Katya ogled the beautiful weapon in his hand as it collapsed and disappeared into his coat.

“I’m gonna have to get me one of those,” she said. “Come on, we need to find Izrayl.”

Yvan’s eyes had changed to the deep blackness of the firebird. Anya tried not to flinch as their liquid ferocity fixed on her. She’d never seen them in such a half formed state. The wolves had backed off, but were still circling in a low perimeter. A howl rose in the distance and they bolted towards it. Eldon Blaise and Aramis appeared through the trees, both looking wired.