by Dima Zales
My panicked gaze falls on Ariel, who’s lying in the rubble behind the seats.
Without a seatbelt to hold her still, she’s in an even worse shape than Felix—and her staying intact at all is probably the most impressive feat of her super strength.
“Can I stop?” the woman asks Nero.
“Yes,” he says. “She looks much better.”
The healing energy stops streaming at me—and even through the stress, I feel its loss.
Urgently, I turn to the woman. “Please do that same healing thing for my friends.”
Instead of complying, she glances at Nero.
“One sec, Isis,” he says, unruffled. “Sasha and I need to reach an understanding first.”
The healer—Isis—nods and runs her delicate hand through her glossy black hair, looking vaguely bored.
“Heal them!” I shout at her, stunned by her indifference. “They’re dying.”
Isis looks at Nero again, so I pivot to face him.
His expression is unreadable, but the limbal rings in his eyes are extra dark and thick.
“Their fate is in your hands.” His voice is low and deep as he steps toward me.
I suppress a torrent of violent urges, allowing myself only a fantasy of slapping his manipulative face.
It’s obvious what he wants: his Sasha-shaped golden goose to lord over again. And I don’t have a choice but to give in. I’d do anything to get my friends healed, even make a deal with the devil himself.
Then again, no one says I can’t do this on my terms.
Angling my body in such a way that Isis and the Enforcer vamp can’t see what I’m about to do, I walk toward Nero, staring him down.
He holds my gaze—which is good, because he doesn’t see my hand sneak into my pocket and come out with the FELLATIO device palmed within.
“I’ll come back to work,” I tell him. “And you can resume being my Mentor—even if that means sending some more orc goons to beat me up.”
His mouth tightens, and his eyes narrow dangerously.
Good. I’ve got his attention.
“Do you need me to swear an oath?” I stop within kissing distance of him and say softly, “Or was there more that you wanted… boss?”
Without waiting for a reply, I reach toward his groin area with both hands.
His body tenses like a predator about to leap at prey.
Hoping he’s distracted enough, I carefully deliver the palmed device into his pant pocket and continue the motion, brushing my fingers very gently across his crotch.
Eeek. My breath hitches, and heat floods my cheeks.
There’s a bulge there I don’t recall seeing earlier.
I snatch my hands away, as if from a venomous snake.
A very big snake.
A python, maybe? Wait, those aren’t venomous.
He catches my wrists before I can pull them away. His fingers are warm and impossibly strong, his grip unbreakable.
He leans in, his hot breath wafting over my neck as he growls, “The status quo is all that’s required of you.”
I expect him to add a “for now,” but he lets go of my wrists and steps out of my reach.
I back away, staring at him as I attempt to catch my breath. My wrists still feel the ghostly imprint of his touch, and my pulse is way too fast.
It was all a charade, so why is a part of me disappointed that he pulled away?
Thankfully, the rest of me wants to smack that part on the head before giving her a sanity check, a timeout, and a cold shower.
“Proceed,” Nero says to Isis and the vampire.
Isis points her hand at Felix, and the vampire slices open his wrist with his fangs.
“Wait,” I say. “No vampire blood for Ariel.”
The two look at Nero, and he nods.
Isis points her energy at Ariel, and the vamp walks toward Felix.
“I’m not sure I want Felix drinking that poison either,” I say.
“I’m nearly tapped out,” Isis says to Nero. “It will be nine hundred to do both.”
“You’re going to charge me a premium?” Nero raises an eyebrow. “You don’t think it’s too steep? You’re going to be pretty much tapped out regardless.”
“But with two, I’ll feel like shit afterward,” Isis says. “That costs extra.”
“Fine,” Nero says. “Hurry up before one of them dies.”
As they talk, the vampire’s wrist closes up.
Isis demonstratively sighs before pointing her right hand at Ariel and left one at Felix.
The golden energy streams at both of my friends.
Almost instantly, their grievous wounds close up and broken limbs straighten.
Isis’s healthy olive skin tone pales, and some gray hair pops out of nowhere on her temples.
Felix’s throat produces a disturbing moan, and Isis stops his treatment with a knowing smirk.
Felix jolts up and looks around with wild eyes.
“You okay?” I ask him.
“Yeah.” He doesn’t sound certain. “You?”
“Peachy,” I say with as much sarcasm you can cram into the name of a fruit.
He nods, and we both stare at Ariel.
She looks whole again, but she isn’t moving or making sounds.
Isis stops the healing energy, shakes her right hand a few times as though to improve blood circulation, and then shoots Ariel again.
Ariel still doesn’t come to.
“She was knocked out with this,” Felix says, picking his mangled Gomorrah gun out from the rubble. “I’m not sure you can get her out of that.”
“Let’s get her inside their apartment and figure things out from there.” Nero looks at what used to be the apartment building entrance.
Following his gaze, I see emergency vehicles gathering.
Did someone call 911?
It’s likely. After all—
Powerful arms grab me without any warning.
“Hey,” I shout at Nero—who’s got me in the same new-bride grip he used when I passed out during my presentation at his conference. “I can walk.”
“You’re still weak from the treatment,” he says, ignoring my ineffectual struggles as he strides toward the staircase.
Felix and Isis trail after us, and the vampire carries Ariel the way Nero is carrying me.
Fine. Whatever. The elevator is probably broken from the collision, and I don’t particularly want to schlep up all those stairs. Still, this is not the ideal scenario by any means.
I don’t like how good it feels to be held by these strong arms. Don’t appreciate how inappropriately yummy Nero smells, or how—
Nope. Must think about something else.
Anything else.
How much is all this going to cost Nero?
Yeah. There’s a non-sexy topic.
Given Nero’s reaction to Isis’s price of “nine hundred,” I can presume she didn’t mean “dollars.” Nero keeps that kind of money in his pocket as spare change. Unless it’s some Cognizant currency they were discussing, she must’ve meant “nine hundred thousand”—as in, nearly a million dollars. Way more expensive than any hospital.
On top of that, Nero owns this apartment building, which means the insane bill for the upcoming renovations is also going to be his problem.
Oh, well. In for a penny, in for a pound—or a million dollars.
“Can you buy Vlad a replacement Tesla?” I ask brazenly as Nero reaches the fourth floor with an Olympic sprinter’s speed. “The car I crashed was his, and he was—”
“Anything else?” His eyes gleam at me with dark amusement.
“Sure,” I say. “You can get Isis to heal Rose’s voice, and you can call Vlad to see if he’s all right.”
“Spoke to Vlad already,” Nero says. “He’s on the way—but his car is going to come out of your next bonus.”
I almost thank him for being a pain again. Makes it that much easier to ignore the tingling warmth in my body—heat that has nothing t
o do with Isis’s recent treatment and everything to do with my inappropriate proximity to my boss’s powerful body.
Maybe I should count sheep, like when trying to fall asleep.
No. That makes me think of sleeping with Nero, and I do not need my mind going there.
To my relief, we reach my floor.
The door to my apartment is open, and Rose is standing there, fanning herself with her hand.
She tries to speak, but an unhealthy hiss comes out of her throat instead of words.
How loudly had she been screaming?
“Isis,” Nero says over his shoulder. “Rose could use your services.”
“Looks like my bill will be a round number,” Isis says grumpily and shoots a little arrow of her mojo at Rose.
“She’s going to charge you a hundred thousand to fix Rose’s voice box?” I whisper.
Nero shrugs, steps over Fluffster, and carries me inside.
“You’re back,” Fluffster screams in my head. “I was so worried.”
“I’m fine,” I whisper to Fluffster. “I was healed and everything.”
What I want to know but can’t ask out loud is: how come Nero wasn’t afraid of Fluffster just then? Gaius, Pada, and Vlad were all wary when they first saw the domovoi, but Nero is acting like Fluffster is really the small furry rodent he pretends to be.
On his end, Fluffster looks to have conveniently forgotten his earlier bravado. I distinctly recall his suggestion to invite Nero over so that he could “teach him some manners.”
Bending down, Nero carefully deposits me into a lounge chair.
He then leaves and comes back carrying Ariel—and I’m not jealous at all at the gentle way he holds her.
Nope. Not jelly at all.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Rose says as she runs into the room, her voice clearly repaired. “But why is Ariel unconscious?”
Isis strolls in, and Felix comes in behind her, dragging his feet and panting like a dehydrated dog.
Plopping into a chair next to me, he complains, “I didn’t have anyone to carry me. Though even if Maya were here—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” I say. “I don’t have the cash to pay Isis to put you back together if—”
Isis clears her throat, and when we stop talking, she walks up to Ariel and gives her a thorough examination.
“Her vitals are fine,” she says. “Just let her rest like this, and she’ll come to her senses soon enough.”
“Sasha should rest also,” Nero says to Isis, then looks at Felix. “Him too.”
The healer demonstratively sighs and points her hands at us again.
“Wait a sec—” I start, but the healing energy makes me drown in blissful drowsiness, and I blank out.
Chapter Forty
I wake up to a bergamot scent and open my eyes.
Rose is handing a cup of what must be Earl Grey to the already-awake Felix.
“Hello.” I stretch, noticing how amazing I’m feeling. “How is everyone doing?”
“Felix seems to be good as new,” Rose says.
“What about Vlad?” I ask.
As though in reply to my query, Vlad steps into the room.
The only thing wrong with Vlad is his clothes. I never imagined him to be a Matrix fan boy, or to wear movie t-shirts for that matter.
“I hope it’s okay,” Rose says to Felix. “I took some of your clothes to replace his bloody rags.” She whitens at the memory.
“No problem. I have ten of those, so you can keep that one,” Felix says, studying Vlad with a tinge of jealousy.
If Felix is thinking those clothes have never looked as good on him as they do on Vlad, he’s right. The borrowed outfit seems custom made for Vlad’s wider shoulders.
I look at the couch.
Ariel is still out.
“Do you want a cup of tea?” Rose asks me.
“Sure,” I say. “I’d love some.”
Rose grabs Vlad by the elbow and drags him away.
The front door slams shut. She must’ve gone to make the tea at her own apartment, where she has better options.
That or she and Vlad couldn’t keep their hands off each other and went for some hanky-panky at her place.
Fluffster walks into the room and looks us over.
“That was extremely stressful,” he says. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“Sure,” Felix says. “That’s why we will never battle the hordes of hell again—to make sure you are not stressing out too much.”
“Good,” Fluffster says, ignoring or not catching the sarcasm. “Now I think I’m going to go take a nap also. Wake me when Ariel comes around.”
“Will do,” I say.
The chinchilla leaves, and I look at Felix. “Where is Nero?”
“Wasn’t around when I woke up. Why? Do you miss him already?”
He winks at me.
“If you hadn’t just gone through the wringer, I would punch your smug face,” I reply, only half-jokingly.
“Rose said he and the others left as soon as we passed out.” Felix blows on his tea.
I test standing on my feet again.
Totally fine.
Even better than fine. I think I can run a marathon or two.
“Did you know that Nero spoke Russian?” I ask Felix, sitting back down.
“No.” He greedily slurps his tea. “But as I’ve told you before, with the last name of Gorin, it’s not that much of a leap.”
“What did he and Baba Yaga say to each other?” I glance around, feeling as if Nero might be lurking in the shadows.
“I wasn’t in the best condition to listen.” Felix cringes at the memory. “I did get the gist of the exchange, though.”
“And? Tell me.”
“At first, Nero sounded like Liam Neeson in Taken,” he says animatedly. “He reminded Baba Yaga that, and I paraphrase, he has a very particular set of skills that make him a nightmare for people like her—or anyone really.” He chuckles dryly. “Baba Yaga is truly crazy, because she didn’t agree right away. Which is when Nero started with the threats.” Felix’s enthusiasm wanes at this memory. “It was bad. He said he’d go full-on Keyser Söze on her ass—though not in those exact words. He said he’d go after her and the rest of her mob, killing them slowly. That—and again, I don’t recall it all verbatim—he’d kill her people’s kids, their wives, their parents, and their parents’ friends. He’d burn down the Izbushka restaurant and—”
“Dude, I’ve seen The Usual Suspects,” I say. “What did Baba Yaga say to all this?”
“She’s a tough lady,” Felix says. “She said if she’s going to die, she’d rather die gloriously and while standing her ground. Oh, and that she doesn’t give two shits about what happens to anyone else after she’s gone.”
“And what did Nero say to that?”
“He asked what she wants. But the way he said it made it sound like if Baba Yaga asked for the wrong thing, the Keyser Söze reaction would still be on the table.”
I feel pride swell my chest for whatever reason. I guess I like the visual of Nero putting the old woman in her place—especially since he did it for me, a mere cog in his financial machine.
“Baba Yaga said she wants Nero to leave her alone for a year,” Felix says. “To not go after her people or her for any reason, no matter what she does—provided she leaves you alone.”
“And?” I ask when Felix pauses to take a breath.
“He said if she keeps to her word and otherwise stays out of his business, she has herself a deal. He then said that he knows about her New York Council ambitions and couldn’t give a rat’s ass one way or another—which seemed to make her happy.”
“So I’m safe from her?” I clarify. “I was afraid I’d have to look over my shoulder or stay home for the rest of my days.”
“You’re safe,” Felix says. “As long as you stay away from her and Brighton Beach in general, she stays away from you. There was even a mention of putting together
a written contract to that effect, and no one breaks those once they exist.”
“Great,” I say with a grin. Then my mood darkens as I recall the cost of this arrangement—me going back to being Nero’s slave girl.
Or his minion.
Yeah. That has fewer sexual connotations.
Ugh. I need to break my stupid abstinence. How else to explain that a part of me finds the phrase “Nero’s slave girl” perversely arousing?
“Earth to Sasha,” Felix says, and I thank heavens his superpower is not telepathy. If he’d caught that last thought, I’d have to murder a good friend.
“Sorry,” I say. “Back to business… Did you get a chance to finally penetrate Nero?”
“Did I what?” Felix chokes on his tea.
“Oh, maybe I forgot to tell you,” I say. “I put the FELLATIO gizmo in his pocket.”
“You what?” he yelps. “When? How?”
“Before you got healed,” I say, ignoring both the how question and the flashbacks to the feel of that “snake.”
“Well,” Felix says in a much calmer tone. “Even if you had told me, when would I have gotten the chance to do that? Have you seen me touch a computer? Is Nero even back in his office? I need him next to his—”
“No need to get testy,” I say. “You can get on it starting now. Since we’ve learned that Nero speaks Russian, what I saw in my vision—my name written in Cyrillic—could be his password after all.”
“You’re right.” Felix leaps to his feet, spilling half the tea. “Let me get my laptop and—”
Ariel moans from the couch and starts moving with jerky, agitated motions.
Chapter Forty-One
I jump to my feet, and we stampede toward the couch.
Flailing her arms, Ariel opens her eyes and looks around, her pupils dilated and gaze unfocused.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her soothingly.
“Gaius?” she says, and though she’s looking at me, I get the feeling she doesn’t recognize me.
“Gaius isn’t here,” I croon. “Relax.”
“Gaius,” she says again, her forehead breaking into a sweat. “I need him.”
“He’s in Russia,” I say.
“You’re better off without him anyway,” Felix mutters, saying what I was being too kind to add.