Secrets and Shadows (19 page)

Jaikin said smugly, “You’re just jealous. You want to be fascinating to Jessie, too.”

Smith glared back.

“Werewolves,” I whispered.

“It’s one of myriad possibilities.” Jaikin shrugged.

I rubbed at my arms, chasing a chil away at the thought the Rusakovas were linked to the suicides. “Tel me what else you’ve heard.”

“Since you asked … these werewolves—some cal them loup-garous or hamrammr—”

“Or
oborot,
” I added.

“What language is that?”

“Russian.”

Al three sets of eyes turned to Pietr. Smith twitched, and Hascal’s eyes widened behind his thick glasses, giving him a distinctly owl-like appearance.

“What? I can’t know something from time to time?”

Hascal patted my arm. “You’re fathinating, too, Jethie.”

Jaikin concluded, “So, one group believes the werewolves have set up people to be kil ed on the train tracks.”

The memory of standing blindfolded on the tracks moments before Pietr shoved me out of the way was so fresh in my mind a shiver rattled me. “Why?”

“Do they need a reason? Would a werewolf—a creature at least as much beast as man, a
monster
—hold to the same principles we do? Maybe it’s just fun.”

I couldn’t fathom what raced through Pietr’s mind.

“Murder as a pastime? Sounds like pure human evil to me,” I proposed. “Any other opinions?”

“Some have suggested it’s not the werewolves doing it, but people who want to keep the werewolves secret,” Jaikin added.

“What? The werewolves are spotted and some clandestine organization takes out the witnesses?” My heart sped at the possibility, but I shook my head. “Any other options?”

Smith cleared his throat. “The only other option
is
the option. Teens have a reputation for being dissatisfied. Our hormones are horribly out of balance, choking off our brain’s higher functions whenever we notice someone has a nice rack.”

“That must be why you can’t do calculus whenever you’re in the same room with Jessie,” Jaikin chuckled.

Pietr’s shoulders shook with laughter.

Smith looked like he’d sucked on a lemon.

“So,” I said. “Smith, you were saying…”

“Most of the time we’re simply unhappy with what life hands us. We struggle to find our place. In the world and in our families. Life is tumultuous. As the stressors become greater, it’s only natural the wil to survive becomes less in certain members of our species.”

“So to you, suicide is an example of survival of the fittest?” I hoped my dismay could be read on my face, but uncertain, I added, “That’s cold, Smith. I may agree with you on lots of other things, but…”

The van pul ed up to Golden Oaks and I hopped out first. I shot a look at Pietr and he sighed, resigning himself to meet the greater good. We quickly clarified who was partners with who and taking which of the local animal shelter’s animals on our rounds.

Smith was miffed that Pietr and I had reunited. “Is this because you’re angry with my answer?”

I gave him a peck on the cheek. “I’d think with a brain as large as yours there’d be room for more compassion.”

Climbing the stairs with Pietr due to his aversion to elevators, a mix of emotions stirred my stomach.

“We need to talk.”

“We had nothing to do with the suicides,” Pietr assured me. In the crook of his arm the calico kitten, Victoria (now a regular with Tag, the pug), mewed. “Did you have to ask?” He rubbed his nose and blinked at me, his eyes going red for an instant as we paused on the steps.

“Sometimes hearing stuff helps. Are you angry?”

He blinked until the red was gone. “
Nyet
,” he muttered, motioning up the stairs with a jerk of his chin.

I changed the way I held Tag and, on the move again, I asked my next question. “So why do they al appear to be related to werewolves? Like they’ve seen something?” I paused, my teeth grinding together.

appear to be related to werewolves? Like they’ve seen something?” I paused, my teeth grinding together.

“Is Max being careful?”

“Max?
Careful?
Those words should never be put in the same sentence. You should know that,” he said, a note of warning in his voice.

“Okay. Let’s say someone spotted him. Who would want them dead because of what they saw?”

We looked at each other and said in unison, “The CIA?”

“I mean, Wanda and Kent have been trouble,” I admitted, “and in the church it seemed like that guy real y might…”

“Kil you?” He gave me a leveling look. “
Da.
”

“Okay. Yeah. It real y seemed he was going to shoot me.”

“Exactly.” He rubbed his nose again.

“Al ergies?”

Shaking his head, he blinked red at me.

“But I’m starting to wonder if it’s normal for a government agency to act so…” I shrugged.

Looking back, I caught him with his nose buried in Victoria’s fur. I raised an eyebrow. “Does she smel good enough to eat?”

He chuckled. Uncomfortably. Al traces of red bled from his eyes. Watching me, they went clear and blue as Arctic ice. His mouth pul ed into a taut line. “What if there’s a new player?”

“Who else? Holy crap, Pietr—we’re already dealing with the Russian Mafia and the CIA. Who else might want a piece of you?”

“Who doesn’t? It’s a dog’s life, right?” He opened the door for me. “Or perhaps people aren’t who they say they are. Things are seldom what they seem.”

Says a werewolf
.

Hazel Feldman watched Pietr with far greater interest than she’d shown the first time she’d met him

—when she’d agreed that
Romeo and Juliet
wasn’t much of a romance. “I’m glad you’re doing your duty again,” she said.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I didn’t stop. I’ve been doing my service learning assignment steadily.”

“There’s a difference between doing an assignment and doing your duty, boy.”

He shrugged one shoulder and passed Victoria her way.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Feldman marveled. “But such sharp little fangs. That’s the way the world is, isn’t it? The prettiest things often have the worst bite.”

“You speak in riddles, Mrs. Feldman,” I said with a smile. “I always leave here with lots to think about.”

“Good, good,” she said, petting Victoria with such a heavy hand the kitten’s head bobbed down and her eyes widened with each long stroke from her head to her tail. “Are you ready to give in, Jessie?”

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Pietr tilt his head, observing our exchange. “I don’t know,” I confessed. “I’m not sure I want to know my future.”

She glanced at me, wizened eyes narrowing further so her wrinkles deepened into crevices. “ ‘
Que
sera, sera
,’ ” she muttered. “ ‘Whatever wil be, wil be.’ ”

“
Da
,” Pietr agreed. “But doesn’t that song continue with the idea we don’t get to know our future?”

“I hate that song,” she sniped. “Perhaps if I start with
your
cards, Pietr.” She pushed Victoria back into his grasp and dug into the folds of her voluminous skirt, withdrawing her beautiful deck of cards. “Shuffle.”

Reluctantly Pietr crossed to her door, shut it, and set Victoria down. After checking the window was closed, of course. He had learned that much from his first trip to service learning. He took the cards and paused.

“Don’t be scared. Shuffle. The future is an amazing gift.”

“Some of us don’t get time to unwrap it,” he muttered.

“What?” She cupped a hand to her ear.

“He said he’s sorry he’s being so taciturn.”

He looked my way, but only briefly. He shuffled the cards like a pro, his hands quick and sure. “I draw.”

She grinned. “You’ve done this before.”

“
Da
, I have a sister with a fascination for such extraneous activities.”

“If you think what she does is extraneous, she’s not very good at it yet.” She took the cards and fanned them in her hand, holding them facedown. “Perhaps I’l make you a believer. Pul one for your recent past.”

He did.

“The Tower. You have recently faced great change.”

“I’m a teenager. Things are always changing.”

“Shal I be more specific?”

Undaunted, he replied, “You may try.”

Holding the card, she closed her eyes a moment. “Your most recent birthday was fil ed with surprises.”

My teeth pinned my lower lip.

Pietr didn’t show any sign she’d struck a nerve. “Go on.”

She ran a thumb across the card, contemplating. “You expected to be hurt that day, not betrayed. But someone close to you surprised you. No. Two surprised you. One with near betrayal, one with acceptance,” she corrected.

Pietr’s eyebrows lowered.

“Another card? For the near future.”

“
Da
.” He yanked another free of the fan.

She turned it over. “Oh.” Her lips slid across her face as she considered the meaning, or perhaps the words, to explain it. “There is death ahead.”

His eyes closed for one sharp second, and he swal owed.

“It is a repeating cycle, a loop meant to close. You can fight it, but it is coming. Quickly.”

I reached for him, but he stepped smoothly away. “Pietr…”

“This is nothing I don’t already know. If you want to make me a believer in magic, you’l need to do far better.”

“Fine,” she said, lips twisting in a devilish grin. “One more card. For a secret you’re keeping.”

He reached forward, and she jerked the cards back.

“No. Think about it. Hold it in your mind. What do you want to keep hidden most? What secret do you dare not share?”

He licked his lips. His jaw set like stone. Slowly he slid a card out and showed it to her.

Her eyes flicked from it, to him, to me. “Leave the room, Jessie,” she ordered.

“But…”

The faint line of a vein appeared by Pietr’s hairline.

“Okay, I’m leaving,” I mumbled, slipping out of the room with Tag stil in my grasp. Only when the door clicked shut behind me did I hear the faint noise of people talking resume. Sighing, I took a tour of the hal way. Could Mrs. Feldman have learned Pietr’s greatest secret? Was she—right now—revealing to him she knew he was a werewolf?

Pietr swung the door open and I jogged back, searching his stony face for some sign. I wanted so badly to touch him, to assure him, but my hand didn’t dare twitch from where it held Tag, Pietr looked so fierce.

So utterly unforgiving.

Mrs. Feldman looked at me. A smile crackled her face into a thousand wrinkles. “Come now, Jessie.

Shuffle the deck and learn your future.”

“I don’t believe in magic,” I confessed, my eyes never leaving Pietr’s face.

He sat, no—
perched—
on a chair in her room, seeking the corner’s solitary shadow.

“What is it with you children now? Either you believe in magic, spel ing it with a terminal k, as if accepting anything else might indeed be terminal, or you cling to science, dismissing al other possibilities.

Has no one taught you they blend? They interweave. Can we explain the magic of birth as science—yes.

Sperm meets egg,” she confirmed, clapping her hands on the deck. “Until”—she bent forward on her bed as if sharing some secret—“until that first moment a mother or father looks into their child’s eyes and realizes there is indeed magic dwel ing within.”

She shuffled the cards, hands amazingly quick considering they were knotted and gnarled and freckled with spots. The gaudy rings on her fingers sparkled. “Creation. Amino acids encountering the right atmospheric pressure, temperature, and conditions to start life. Science!” she proclaimed. “And yet, where has it happened in our universe? Only here.” She pointed with a vehement finger. “On Earth.
That
is a kind of magic.”

My eyes fol owed her hands and she raised them, baiting me as she shuffled and danced the cards back and forth. “They work together, magic and science. And any scientist worth his salt wil confess to feeling something magical anytime he or she learns or discovers something new. Have you never thought it is most suitable that science and magic should blur together here in a town cal ed Junction?”

“I never thought about it at al ,” I confessed.

She fanned the cards and snapped them shut. “Shuffle.”

I did, my hands fumbling with the hefty deck.

She took them back, careful y spreading them. “Now pul .”

I drew, holding the card out to her, aware how intently Pietr watched my hand.

“Hmm. You worry too much.”

Pietr snorted and looked at me, his jaw loosening enough for him to speak. “And you say
I
always state the obvious.”

I thought the ghost of a smile twitched there on his lips, but it was gone too fast to be certain.

“You are surrounded by people who want to protect you.”

I shrugged, wanting to stand as firm as Pietr.

“Draw again.”

I did.

“These people who want to protect you are keeping information—keeping secrets—from you.”

“Why?”

Her gray-and-white curls bobbed as she shook her head. “Only to protect you. If they thought it would help…” She glanced at Pietr, but he silenced her with a look. “It is important to remember they have the very best intentions.”

“The road to hel is paved with good intentions.” I gazed out at Pietr from beneath my eyelashes.

He was unmoved.

“One more,” she urged.

I sucked in a breath and rol ed my lips together, pul ing one last card.

“Ahhh. But the secret far bigger than any they’re keeping from you is a secret flowing within you. There is hope in you.”

“That’s no secret,” I murmured. “But it’s wearing thin.”

“No. It is too great a part of you to ever wear,” she assured me. “The dog.” She motioned.

I held out Tag, and she gave him a cursory pat. “Excel ent. Now go.”

“Thank you,” I said, letting her words dance in my head.