Ashes of the Firebird (The Firebird Fairytales Book 2) Page 9

  “I didn’t mean to hurt them.”

  “I know that and they do too.” His voice had gone soft again and he took a step towards her, “I’m sorry that we don’t have more information on Yanka and that we don’t know where they are keeping her. I don’t wish to have any anger between us.”

  “I’m not angry at you…”

  “Of course you are. You feel helpless and you need to be angry with someone so you chose me. You won’t even let your magic touch mine.” He very slowly rested his hands on her elbows. Anya’s pulse jumped to her throat as the air between them hummed. “The Twins have agreed to teach you and I wish to as well. You need to learn to trust me more though.”

  “I do trust you.”

  “No, you don’t. You trust Yvan. He has your trust. Trajan has your heart. The only thing we have that is unique is our power and you have denied the touch of that for days. And you say that you aren’t angry with me?”

  “I need to learn to control it, Aramis. I’m trying to do that. I can’t have it spew out all over you whenever you’re near me.”

  “I will teach you how to control it. I promise. Yanka struggled to control her own power in the end and I don’t wish for that to happen to you,” he said earnestly as he moved his hands from her elbows up to grip her shoulders.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Let it go,” he urged, “Stop being afraid of it.” The pressure that had been building inside of her chest burst out of her in a wave of power. Aramis staggered backwards but managed to keep his footing. He held out his hand and her magic stopped pouring into him.

  “Are you okay?” Anya asked, “I didn’t mean for it to do that.”

  “I know; it’s fine. You haven’t used any of your magic in days. It builds up and becomes unstable. You haven’t been doing any of the small exercises Chayton and Honaw taught you in Paris have you?”

  “No, I haven’t. Now, will you stop lecturing me like a child?”

  “Will you stop acting like one?” he countered angrily. They glared at each other for a few moments before Aramis burst out laughing, a good laugh that buzzed in her brain until she started laughing too. Anya hadn’t heard him laugh since they were in Russia. He opened his arms and she hugged him.

  “Let’s not fight anymore,” she said against the fabric of his shirt. “I have everyone in the world trying to fight with me. Not you too.”

  “Deal. I had no right to question what you do with Trajan but I do ask you to be careful. He is not human, Anya.”

  “Neither are you.”

  “But I wouldn’t kill you if I lost control having sex with you.” Anya was surprised at how very awkward she felt as soon as the words had left his mouth. She was still holding him around the waist, listening to his heartbeat through the thin grey fabric of his shirt when she felt something disturbingly akin to attraction ripple through her she let him go quickly and he did the same.

  “So magic lessons,” she said too brightly, “I will go get… stuff.”

  “And I will meet you in the Twins rooms,” Aramis replied with a slight incline of his head. There was a knowing look on his face as he turned and left her. He would have felt everything she did through their link.

  “Hiisi vieköön,” Anya cursed. She would have to learn, and quickly, how to hide her emotions from him when their magic was joined. At least they weren’t arguing anymore. She didn’t know what worried her more; the fact that it was almost painful to not let her magic touch his when they were in the same room or the possibility that she may never be able to hide what she felt from him.

  Anya picked up her drum and her rune stones. She hesitated before she tipped the drum out onto the bed. The silver leaf gleamed softly. Taking the piece of reindeer bone that Aramis had acquired for her she dropped it on the drum and watched it bounce. It landed on the rune Ansuz, before jumping to the Shamanitsa figure, to the merkstave rune Thurisaz before finally landing on the large cross with the smaller crosses around it. She jotted the sequence down in her notebook. Aleksandra had told her back in Skazki that sometimes while divining wouldn’t be for her but people around her. Anya didn’t know what it meant but she had a deep feeling that trouble wasn’t very far away.

  ***

  At midnight, Matthias Church looked like a foreboding castle in a fairy-tale with its brightly coloured roof and its tall tower. Isabelle threw out her senses to make sure no one was following her before ducking into the shadows and slipping through the door.

  Inside, the candles burned low and soft. Taking out her rosary, she quickly crossed herself. Mychal moved out from behind the shadows of a stone pillar and made her stop.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked steadily.

  “What business is that is yours? I have been coming to this church before God even thought of you, boy.”

  “You must be the great Isabelle Blackwood. I have heard much about you.”

  “Good things or bad things?” she asked innocently. She really didn’t want to fight him. He surprised her by smiling a perfectly straight bright smile. She never would have picked him to have such an open smile even if the warmth didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Good things from Vadim, bad things from everyone else,” Mychal admitted. Isabelle sat down on a pew and he followed her lead but still sat a few pews away from her.

  “Well, if you keep going the way you are I’m sure it won’t be long before you have a reputation of your own.”

  “I don’t leave survivors so I don’t get a reputation,” he said. Isabelle believed it. He wasn’t doing any of it for fame. He brushed his dark curls away from his face.

  “You did an amazing job with that Nehemoth,” she said quickly. Mychal stared at her evenly, her shoulder was aching again and she fidgeted.

  “Thank you, I know that was probably difficult for you to admit.”

  “Of course it is. You made us all look like complete amateurs,” she said before adding, “Why didn’t you stay?”

  “I’m not good with people,” he said finally. “You all looked like you were going to harass me with questions so I thought it best to leave.”

  “Good move because they were.”

  “Besides coming to flatter me, what do you want?”

  “I don’t know. To pay my respects I suppose. I have only met one demon hunter before and I can see the student has far surpassed the master.”

  “I will take that as a compliment.”

  “I am happy that Vadim has had someone around the last few years. I don’t think I was very good company. I’m almost another demon,” she shrugged. Mychal suddenly looked very serious.

  “You’re not a demon,” he said with pure conviction.

  “And how can you be so sure?” Isabelle challenged. “My shoulder is hurting being near you right now. Vadim would have told you that I have been marked.”

  “It isn’t a demon mark. It’s a demon bite. There is a difference. Marked is when they hurt you in their true form. They would always be able to find you. Vadim killed the demon that did that to you. What you are feeling is…echoes. If you were really a demon I would be able to see your true form.” Isabelle fought not to shiver. To see their true form would be living a nightmare.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Yes, it is a great gift.” Mychal’s lips twisted into a sneer.

  “One from God?”

  “I have my doubts.”

  “Better you than me,” Isabelle said honestly. Clearly, what Vadim had said about Mychal giving nothing away was true. “Thank you for your help. If any of us can repay the favour let us know.”

  “I will keep it in mind.” Mychal turned and walked away, leaving Isabelle staring after him.

  Chapter Nine- Peeping Tom

  Aleksandra was losing her mind. She had spent her whole life being responsible and had taken it upon herself to lecture Katya for her recklessness. She had been someone who guided and gave advice and lived by example. Now she was spiralling out of cont
rol.

  She dreamt nearly every single night of the hunter. Shadows clung to him wherever he went and yet she knew he wasn’t evil. Sometimes she would catch glimpses of him fighting like some glorious death dancer. Other times, she would see him alone or sleeping and see the night terrors that plagued him. Whatever the case it was happening more frequently and it frightened her because she had no idea who he was. She didn’t know if he was real or a dream.

  Climbing out of bed, she washed her face and inspected herself in the little mirror. She had lost weight, dark circles were under her eyes and her hair was an impossible haystack. She had to take control.

  Striding purposely to the kitchen, she put a big pot of water on to boil for a bath. She put the kettle on and made strong black coffee. Going to the closet, she took out a fresh loose-sleeved shirt, a black corset and a pair of trousers. She almost always wore skirts but she had had enough of those too.

  It took her an hour to have her bath in the metal tub and to fix her hair into one long braid that she pinned up, looping and curling it around her head. She left her caravan, deciding to go for a walk to think things through.

  It had snowed every day for the past month and Aleksandra was considering going back to Mir to have central heating. She pulled on a heavy fur lined coat and gloves, and began to trudge through the forests. Baba Zosia’s protection wards pinged but it let her pass without any alarms.

  The dark man was important somehow. She found herself puzzling over him close to every minute of the day. Why had her talent zeroed in on him? She didn’t recall ever seeing or meeting him in her whole life. Usually when she had a premonition, it only ever concerned the tribe. A few times, she had tried focussing her talent on him, to try to find a location, something to give her a hint. Every time, she had gotten nothing. Exhausted by her efforts, she would go to sleep and there he would be in all of his glory.

  An hour later, she brushed the snow off a rock and sat down. She clutched at her pounding head with damp gloves. The pressure built behind her eyes and suddenly she saw a flash of Anya being lifted in the air by nothing, Katya trying to help her and getting thrown, a smashed window and the dark man coming through it.

  As her vision cleared, Aleksandra was bent double, head between her knees as she gulped in huge mouthfuls of air. She had never had a sudden vision like that. Usually it took some kind of focussing of her mind or dreaming. As her heart and breathing calmed, she got unsteadily to her feet and headed back towards camp. She needed to see Baba Zosia.

  Katya knew the dark man. God, why am I not surprised? She thought bitterly. It was snowing again so Aleksandra picked up her pace and hurried back to the circle of caravans. Baba Zosia was waiting for her when she returned to camp. She gestured to Aleksandra to hurry up.

  “Where you go?” Baba Zosia asked as Aleksandra approached.

  “I went for a walk to clear my head and it didn’t work,” she replied and stamped the snow off her boots before going up the stairs to where Baba Zosia was waiting. She looked at her with narrow eyes, “Ce mai faci ?”

  “Shit, that’s how I’m going,” Aleksandra grumbled.

  “Inside.” Aleksandra took off her coat as Baba Zosia scooped up some eggs from her frying pan and onto a plate for her. She set her up with coffee and let her eat without hassling her with questions.

  “What’s wrong, girl?”

  “Everything is wrong,” she said and burst into tears. She felt stupid but managed to get her story out about the man she had been seeing for weeks on end. Baba Zosia listened intently and poured more coffee when needed.

  “You talk to Katya about him?”

  “No.”

  “Do it. He must be link.”

  “I will try,” she relented, “I don’t see him when I want. Perhaps we should try to work on that together.”

  “You tired, Aleki. Talk to Katya. Rest. Then we try.”

  Back in her own caravan, Aleksandra stoked the fire high, took off her coat and rolled herself up in her blankets. She did feel a little better after talking to Baba Zosia but not enough to stop crying. With some considerable effort, she focused on her sister.

  Katya? Are you there?

  Aleki, what’s wrong?

  I saw a vision of Anya being attacked and a dark man coming to her rescue. Who was he?

  His name is Mychal. He is a demon hunter here in Budapest.

  What is he?

  That is the 64 million dollar question. No one seems to know. He has been marked by demons. Other than that, he is a mystery.

  Are you friendly with him?

  Not really. I haven’t even officially met him. He is like the Protector of Budapest. Why do you ask?

  Just wondering that’s all. How long are you in Budapest for?

  As long as it takes. Why?

  I am thinking I might come and visit you before you disappear again. Surprise registered through to her.

  Come to Mir and leave the tribe for a holiday? Wow, I’m impressed.

  It is not a definite thing, Katya. I am sick of the snow and want a change for a little while. I still haven’t decided.

  Well, decide quickly if you want to see the Twins. They are heading back to America soon.

  I will let you know. Contact me if you learn anything more on Mychal.

  Aleksandra broke the link before Katya could reply. She had a name. Mychal. Hopefully now she would be able to find him and try to unravel the mystery. The fact he was marked by demons worried her. It did explain the huge scars that ran down his body.

  She had watched him toss and turn in his sleep on more than one occasion. Being a healer, she had found it particularly hard to see him writhe in pain and cry out from nightmares. Awake he was so strong, fearless and cold, as soon as he closed his eyes the day’s fears burst through.

  Aleksandra woke as the sun was setting. She couldn’t believe it. She had slept for six hours and her mind was less clouded. She also was lonely so she went to find Baba Zosia again. The matriarch was stirring a pot of stew when Aleksandra barged in.

  “I had a feeling you would be back, Aleki. You hungry?” she asked in the tribe’s swift language. Aleksandra had been trying to encourage more English out of her without much success.

  “No, I want you to help me spy on this man. Katya told me his name is Mychal and he is a hunter in Budapest.” She sat down at the little table and ran a hand over her thick hair. Baba Zosia ignored her comment about not being hungry and passed her a bowl of soup and a slice of black bread.

  “If he is another hunter I don’t know why your gift would watch him,” Baba Zosia commented as they ate.

  “Perhaps it is because his path crosses with Katya?”

  “No, that would not be it. What else did Yakaterina say about him?”

  “That he was a hunter, something about him being the Protector of Budapest, also she said she doesn’t know what he is,” Aleksandra racked her memory. “I’m thinking by that she is saying that he isn’t all human. She said something about him being marked by demons.” Baba Zosia slammed her empty bowl on the table.

  “Diavol marcat! And you want to seek him?” she shouted. Aleksandra had never seen her so angry.

  “I’m dreaming about him for a reason. What if I can help him?”

  “You can’t help him. The demons want him so there isn’t anything that can be done for him.”

  “What is this demon marked? I have never heard of it.”

  Baba Zosia muttered curses as she opened a cabinet and brought out vodka and cups. She drank the first cup in one long shot and refilled her glass. Aleksandra sipped hers nervously.

  “Diavol sometimes mark people to be tools. If the person refuses, the demon’s mark them for death. If this man is not evil then he has refused them. Nothing in the world will stop them from trying to kill him. It’s a miracle he lives.”

  “He would have to have a very good guardian angel that’s for sure,” Aleksandra said.

  “If that’s true, and angels are involved,
it’s more of a reason to let him be. Getting involved is asking for death.”

  “I was joking about the angels.”

  “Don’t. If the demons want to kill him and the angels are saving him from them than no mortal should be a part of it.” They drank and were silent for a long time.

  “I’m sorry, Baba. I need to see him. I need to know. Otherwise, I will have no peace.” Baba Zosia clicked her tongue in annoyance but finally caved.

  “Fine! I will only help you once. It is foolish,” she snapped.

  Leaning across the table, she took Aleksandra’s hands. The power from the old woman flowed into her like warm liquid. Closing her eyes Aleksandra channelled her own talent and thought of Mychal. She thought of his strength in battle, the way his dreams haunted him, and the way his hair brushed across his dark eyes. She pushed gently against the blocks that had eluded her the last time she had sought him out. Baba Zosia loaned her power and the block removed itself.

  Mychal appeared before her. He was working with a sword in a training room. He wore a pair of loose fitting black pants as he swung and slashed through a sequence of motions. As he turned, Aleksandra saw the deep scars that raked his back. Nothing human could have possibly done such a thing. The tattoos that he had covered his body with gleamed with sweat.

  Something moved across her line of vision. There was a shadow stalking him in the training room. She cried out, begging him to hear her warning. He kept moving, oblivious to the unknown watchers. Drawing on more power from Baba Zosia Aleksandra screamed his name as loud as she could. He spun around quickly in alarm as the shadow pounced on him.

  Using the demon’s momentum, he grasped one of its rotting clawed arms and threw it as hard as he could toward the other side of the room, smashing it into the weight bench. It hardly had time to raise its dazed head before Mychal pounced. He slammed a silver rosary into its face causing part of it to explode and break away. It screeched and wriggled in agony as Mychal hit it over and over again. Finally, his sword flashed down and impaled it through the chest. Its body seemed to shrivel and implode on itself before exploding into ash.