by R. M. Olson
“Masha, I need a full first aid kit,” she said, words terse. “Tanya, help me.”
Tanya knelt down beside her, and sucked in a quick breath.
“There’s no way we save him,” she said quietly. “Not with a wound rotting like that. I’m sorry.”
“I know,” said Galina, voice tight. “But we can at least make him comfortable.” She looked up. “Ysbel, go wake up Ivan and ask him if anyone here is a doctor.”
Jez leaned up against the bike and closed her eyes. Every part of her felt shaky and sick, like when she was a kid and had come down with something that she’d thought might actually kill her, and she’d puked her guts out for three days and hadn’t been able to stand up without falling over for a week after that.
She wasn’t a kid anymore, though, and she wasn’t hurt, at least, not really, and—and—
“Jez?” Lev’s voice was warm and concerned, and then his arm was around her shoulder. “Jez,” he said again, and she collapsed against him, and he just held her.
She leaned into him, feeling the familiar rise and fall of his chest, the warm circle of his arms, and closed her eyes, trying to gather enough strength to stand up on her own legs again. Finally, when she thought she could stay on her feet without falling over, she straightened.
“Jez, you’re hurt,” he said quietly. “Let’s get that taken care of. Come on, neither of us can do anything here, but I’ve patched you up enough times I can probably handle that, at least.”
She managed a weak grin, somehow. He left his arm around her waist, as though he could tell that her steadiness might give out at any moment, and led her from the room. She glanced back over her shoulder once, to see Galina and Tanya and Masha and a man she didn’t recognized crouched beside the filthy bundle on the floor. Galina looked up and shot her a quick, strained smile before turning back to her work.
“They’ll do everything they can,” he said, his voice soothing somehow. “Come on. You can’t help here right now.”
It was ridiculous, really, being shaky and crap when nothing had really happened to her. Yes, her wrist was already swollen to twice its normal size and turning an impressive reddish-purple, and yes, she was bleeding from a shallow cut on her cheekbone where someone must have hit her, which to be honest she couldn’t actually remember, but hell, that was basically a normal day for her. There was really nothing to be shaky over.
Except—
Except every time she closed her eyes, she could see that man crouched over the kid, the vicious smile on his face, and every damn time she saw it, she wanted to throw up again.
“It’s not fair,” she said quietly, as Lev sealed a bandage carefully over the cut under her eye. “It’s not bloody fair.”
“No, it’s not,” Lev said, his voice low.
“I thought—I thought maybe I could—if I brought him back here, maybe we could—” She swallowed back the sick and the choking tears. “But we can’t. He’s going to die. And there were people back there in the pleasure district, and—they wanted to—they were trying to—they must have known he was dying, and anyways, he’s just a kid, like Olya, and—and they were going to—” She was babbling, and she couldn’t seem to stop, and she there was the sharp ache of tears behind her eyes. “He’s going to die anyways,” she choked. “No matter what I did, he was always going to die anyways.”
“I know,” Lev said quietly. “I know, Jez. But—at least he’ll die somewhere warm, where no one’s hurting him. At least you did that.”
She squeezed her eyes closed, but the tears were leaking out anyways.
Damn it to hell. Damn everything to hell.
She stood abruptly, and Lev caught her before she could stumble.
Like he always did.
She turned and gave him a weary smile, because having him near was nice, and there was something in the warm comfort of his presence that made the horrors she’d seen that night a little more bearable.
“Thanks,” she said.
He smiled, and even though there was that tinge of sadness to it, his smile made the world seem just a little bit less hopeless.
“Are you going to be alright?” he asked quietly.
She managed a grin. “Well, considering nothing actually happened to me, figure I probably will be.” She took a deep breath and straightened, and the grin faded from her face. “Um. Thank you.”
“Go get some sleep, Jez,” said Lev, with that faint, weary smile of his. “I’ll wake you up if we need you, I promise.”
She nodded, and made her way to her room, and even though she’d been one hundred percent sure that she wasn’t going to sleep for probably the rest of her damn life, she couldn’t even remember her head hitting the pillow.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THERE WAS A tap at the door to the conference room, and Lev looked up, startled out of his reverie.
“Come in,” he said, and Tae pushed the door open and came in, and Lev glanced at his com.
It had only been a few minutes since Jez had left.
“What’s happening down there?” Lev asked.
Tae shook his head and dropped wearily into a chair. “They’ve made him comfortable, anyways. He probably won’t last more than another day, but he’s sleeping now, and he’s not in pain.”
Lev nodded. His muscles were tight, and he made a conscious effort to relax them.
He hadn’t been able to make himself look at the child inside the bundle of rags Jez had been carrying. He probably should have, but he’d known, the moment he’d seen the look on Tanya’s face, that the kid would die, and he wasn’t sure he could handle it right now.
“How’s Jez?” asked Tae after a moment.
Lev gave a small smile. “She’ll be fine, I think. Give her time. It’s—a lot.”
“Yeah,” said Tae quietly. He paused a moment, rubbing a hand over his face.
“What about you?” Lev asked softly. “You OK?”
Tae looked up and tried to smile, but there was a haunted look on his face that hadn’t been there before. “I’m—yeah. I’m fine.” He paused a moment, but Lev didn’t say anything, just waited, and finally Tae looked down. “That could have happened here. Something like that, anyways. And it was my fault. I—I almost didn’t get through Zhenya’s blocker in time. I didn’t expect it, and I should have.” He gave a short, frustrated shake of his head. “I should have known. That’s the second time Ivan’s almost been killed, and it’s been my fault both times. I thought I’d prepared for everything. I—”
Lev pulled his chair closer. “Tae,” he said. “It wasn’t you. None of us saw that coming. I should have assumed Grigory would have sent other people, and I should have foreseen that they might have asked for a server, instead of the people we’d set up as entertainers.” He sighed. “There was a lot we should have done, but I didn’t think of it, and we managed to pull it off, barely. Thanks to you and Jez and Radic.”
“Ivan was armed,” said Tae, his voice almost inaudible. “That whole time he was armed, I found out afterwards. He could have shot them dead, at any time. But—but he knew that would mean Caz and Peti and the others would die. So—so he didn’t. He just stood there and let them—let them—” He swallowed hard, and trailed off.
Lev squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, because he wasn’t sure what else to say.
“I’m going to bed,” said Tae shortly, getting to his feet. “See you in the morning.”
Lev watched him leave, unease pricking up his spine.
Yes, they’d fooled Grigory once. Possibly twice, if they were lucky and Zhenya hadn’t suspected. But—
But despite all their plans, Jez’s quick thinking, and sheer blind luck, had been the only things that saved them from disaster.
And the grim sight of the small, filthy bundle in the hangar bay—
Jez was right. There were some things that nothing could change.
And they couldn’t afford anything else going wrong.
It wasn’t u
ntil Lev rolled over on his cot the next morning, groaning at the movement and blinking against a sun that was far too bright, that he saw the small, flashing notification.
It took him a moment to blink the sleep from his eyes enough to scan the message.
Then he froze.
Nephew, it said. I’ve spoken to your friend, like you requested. I’m interested in speaking with you, too. It seems a shame for family to leave on the kind of terms you and I left on.
He slapped his hand over the com, his mind racing.
What the hell could Vitali want with him?
To kill him, of course. And maybe that was all this was. But Vitali would know better than to try to bait him with something so obvious.
After a moment, he rolled out of bed and stumbled to the wash basin in the corner, the chill still lingering in his chest.
From the looks on the faces of the others as they gathered for breakfast, no one else had slept any better than he had. In fact, some of them looked like they hadn’t slept at all. Galina’s face had the drawn greyish tinge of someone who hadn’t slept in at least twenty-four standard hours, and Tanya looked almost as exhausted.
“How’s—” Jez began when she saw them, then bit off the question quickly, as if she’d just realized she might not want to know the answer.
Galina gave her a small, humourless smile. “He—he’s not going to make it to the end of the day. I’m sorry. But we were able to make him comfortable, at least. From the look of his leg, that was a bigger mercy than you think.”
Jez managed a small smile, but it hurt him to look at it.
“That’s—that’s good. Thanks, Galya.” She turned away, toying with her food, and Galina watched her with that tender, concerned look.
Lev forced himself to breath out, something aching in his chest that wasn’t pain, exactly, but hurt anyways. Someone who cared about Jez like that was what Jez deserved, honestly, and under the hurt, he was actually genuinely glad to see it.
His com gave a muted ting, and he glanced down.
He sucked in a quick breath.
“What is it?” asked Ysbel, leaning over. She wasn’t sitting by the children, like she usually was, and her face was grave.
“I need to talk to you after this,” he said in a low voice. “Alone, please.”
She raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “I will ask Tanya to take the children after breakfast again, then.”
Once everyone else had left the room, he met Ysbel’s eye, and pulled up the notification on his com.
Nephew. We haven’t spoken in a while. But I warn you, if you chose not to contact me, I will be very hurt. If you’re interested in your friend and my continuing relationship, I would ask you to give me that basic courtesy.
Ysbel frowned. “What does he want?”
“I don’t know.” Lev sighed in frustration and shook his head. “Has he been in contact with you?”
The frown creased between Ysbel’s eyebrows deepened. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I haven’t talked with you about it, because you asked to be left out of it. But he’s been getting more demanding. He wants me to promise to hand over Masha. I told him it depends on what happens in the next few days, but—” She gave a small shrug. “I believe he’s getting impatient. The more he thinks about getting Masha, I believe, the more he wants this, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get to her.”
Lev looked up, staring sightlessly at the wall.
Every muscle in his body was stiff.
He couldn’t keep secrets from Jez, he’d promised himself that. He’d agreed with himself that that was one thing he wouldn’t do. And Jez—well, she’d hate this. She’d agreed to it, because she’d been just as worried about the street kids as the rest of them were, but she’d made it very clear that she didn’t want anything to do with it. And besides, after the way she’d looked this morning, he wasn’t sure how she’d handle another blow right now.
But—
Well, but that was the thing. If anything, the last three days had convinced him they needed a backup plan.
Ysbel was silent, waiting. She wasn’t going to try to push him one way or the other, and he should probably be grateful for that, but instead he felt a small, shameful disappointment that he couldn’t pin this decision on her.
Finally he sighed and turned. “Alright, Ysbel,” he said quietly. “I’ll talk to him. The blockers Tae has set onto our coms should keep him from locating us through the signal, otherwise he’d have found us already. I’ll find out what he wants.”
“And Jez?” asked Ysbel quietly, still watching him. Her gaze was unflinching, but he was too tired to try to hide anything anyways.
He managed a small smile. “I’ll—I’ll tell her. I’ll talk to her and tell her.”
Ysbel’s eyebrows raised slightly, but she still didn’t move, and finally he turned away, irritation giving an edge to his voice. “At least let’s go somewhere we won’t be walked in on in the middle of the conversation.”
“You’ve changed, you know,” said Ysbel at last, a hint of something in her tone.
He turned, frowning, and it took him a moment to realize what it was.
Respect.
For a moment he wasn’t sure what to do with her words.
“I haven’t changed that much,” he said, his voice a little rougher than he meant it to be. “I’m still the selfish bastard I was when you met me.”
“No,” she said quietly. “You’re not. You say that, but the man I met in Masha’s office however many months ago wouldn’t have dreamed of giving up secrets, especially ones that might hurt him. I don’t think there was anyone that man cared about enough to do that for.”
He couldn’t meet her gaze.
She, of all people, would know that.
“You know, Lev,” she said, and the fondness in her tone made him look up despite himself. “I think you might end up as a good man after all, much as I’ve wondered at times,”
Her words brought a comfortable warmth in his chest. He almost certainly didn’t deserve it, but he found himself smiling at her anyways.
He followed Ysbel back to her room. She whispered something briefly to Tanya, who nodded and told the children that if they went to the kitchens, she’d get them something to eat, and the three of them slipped out.
Lev stared down at his com for a moment, trying to steady his heartbeat. The last time he had talked to his uncle, it … hadn’t been a good experience.
He tapped in a number, and waited a moment while the com buzzed.
“Lev.” Vitali’s tone was a mix of pleasure and satisfaction, and the sound gave Lev an unpleasant jolt.
Funny how hearing the voice of the person who you last spoke to minutes before they tried to shoot you out of the sky did that to you.
“Tell me, how’s my favourite nephew?”
“Vitali,” said Lev, in the steadiest voice he could manage. “You asked to speak with me. I’m here. What do you want?”
“Ah, nephew. No small talk with your uncle?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t believe you and I have a great many subjects to talk over that don’t involve one of our deaths,” said Lev.
Vitali, he’d realized the last time the man had been holding him hostage, was a man who was very easily amused, although not in the least easily deceived. Best to keep the conversation on topic.
“Lev. My boy. You know, I actually sent a message to your father after you and I parted ways.”
Lev’s stomach clenched, and he was biting down on his teeth so hard his jaw hurt.
He forced himself to relax. Betraying any emotion to Vitali would be a mistake.
“I hope you conveyed my regards,” he said, keeping his tone pleasant. “And let him know the circumstances of your and my most recent falling-out.”
“Ah Lev.” Vitali’s voice was slightly harder now. “I would have, of course. But it turns out your family had moved, and he neglected to send me his forwarding address.”
Lev let out a qui
ck breath of relief, and for just a moment, silently thanked Masha. Whatever her personal failings, and whatever the lengths she was willing to go and the people she was willing to sacrifice to achieve her ends, she’d at least done what she’d promised when he’d joined the crew. More than she’d promised, honestly.
She’d gotten his family out of prison. And she’d hidden them somewhere that Vitali wouldn’t be able to find them.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Lev politely. “I’m sure he’d have been devastated to know he missed you.”
“Enough,” snapped Vitali. “You’ve always been too smart for your own good, haven’t you? I try to avoid killing family, but for you, I’d make an exception. Regardless, right now I’d just like to talk. And I’d like you to listen.”
He paused a moment, and when Lev didn’t interject, he continued. “Your friend offered to give me Masha if things went sideways, in exchange for my help in protecting certain people in Prasvishoni. Her offer intrigued me. Well, the entire situation intrigued me. I was always an admirer of her father, even if the feeling was one-sided.” He paused again. “The question she didn’t ask, though, is why I was here in the first place. You know, of course, what your little plot did to my relationship with several of my customers. I’m a businessperson first and foremost, and if one of my customers is willing to hire a team to rob me, well. Cutting off business with them is a matter of simple common sense. But business aside, Grigory Korzhikov and I have been personal friends for several years, since were were still young and trying to kill instead of be killed on the streets of Prasvishoni. And the last time we spoke, a few weeks ago, he told me he’d met you.”
Lev and Ysbel exchanged a quick glance. Ysbel’s expression was grim.
Grigory had mentioned that conversation to Lev, but that did nothing to assuage his unease.