She loved Keats, and Shelley. Byron.
Tatiana rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Did she really not belong in this world?
Somewhere out there, her family had a real daughter. A girl who wouldn’t be mopey and tired, and who wouldn’t suck the energy out of the people around her.
Her family deserved that daughter.
The real Tatiana would have had married parents. They would have been able to focus on each other and not whether their daughter was eating or sleeping—or collapsing on her way to the bus.
Her brother would have shared the spotlight, and not had to rely on himself. He wouldn’t have been forgotten at baseball games when her doctor appointments ran late or ended up the only kid without someone at his Christmas concert because his sister had pneumonia and was rushed to the ER.
Balling up her fists, she suppressed a scream of frustration. How was this possible in the modern world? Fuck that creature who had seen something she wanted and took it, never giving a rat’s ass about what she left behind.
And what about the real Tatiana? Had she been discarded? Had the rusalka lost interest when the real girl had lost her chubby cheeks and baby face?
From what Grisha said, such a thing was entirely possible.
That Tatiana could still be alive. She wondered: could she Parent Trap this whole thing? Switch places with the real Tatiana, leaving no one the wiser?
If only she’d had the presence of mind to ask Grisha these questions. Imagine a world where she felt healthy and where her family was happy.
The problem was in order for one of those things to happen, she, the replacement Tatiana, would end up miserable. She’d have to give up her family. Never see them again.
Right?
Because if she left, she couldn’t return to push the real Tatiana out of her rightful place. And that was if the real Tatiana could even fit into this life.
Was this really happening?
Tatiana gave up on sleep and pushed herself out of bed. Her curtains were closed, but now she went to the window to open them. The snow had stopped, the clouds drifting away to leave a star-filled, winter sky.
She stared past the tops of the trees toward the stars and searched for the Big Dipper. There. Some things didn’t change. The stars were still the stars, and she could always find the Big Dipper. She reached for her curtains, ready to give sleep another shot, but gasped. Two bright yellow eyes seemed to pop out of the darkness. She took a step back reflexively then squinted.
The eyes blinked slowly, lazily, and she relaxed. A giant owl, white and shadow-flecked, sat in the tree, staring back at her.
She’d seen barn owls before, but never one this big. Before she could help it, she smiled and tapped on the glass. “Hello.”
The owl stretched out its wings, extending them as if showing off. They were bright white except where the shadows touched him like dark fingers. She tapped again, and the owl tucked his wings back against his body, huddling down on the thick branch.
In her chest, her heart gave a pitiful thump, and she placed her hand on her sternum. Her skin felt thin, and she could almost count ridges with her fingertips. Ugh.
Turning away from the window, she eyed her messy bed. The sheets were probably still warm from her body, and she imagined falling to sleep while watching the pretty form in the tree. Maybe she could pull a chair closer and get a blanket and…
The window shook in the frame as something crashed against it. Tatiana spun. The owl flapped and bumped against the glass.
“What the hell?” she said aloud and made a shooing motion. Birds flew into windows all the time. Maybe, standing there in her white t-shirt, she’d looked like prey. “I’m not a mouse. Go.”
But the owl didn’t stop. It flew away, circled back and hit the window again. And again. The creature had some wicked talons, and they scratched ear-piercingly against the glass.
The last thing she wanted to do was open the window, stick her arms out, and wave it off. But at this rate, it was going to break the glass. Reluctantly, she slid it open a few inches. Feeling like an idiot, she knelt and made a series of sounds she hoped the owl would understand as, “Scram!”
Instead, he circled again to land back in the tree. Tatiana’s legs gave out, and she sat with an oomph against the carpet.
She didn’t have a lot of junk in her trunk and this was the second time she’d landed hard. So even with a padded carpet, it hurt her butt. Outside, the wind blew and the cold air hit her in the face. It seemed her spastic movements and unintelligible words had worked. The owl was gone. She reached up to shut the window but a voice whispered, “Wait.”
Nope. She’d pass on the talking animals, thank you.
Tatiana slammed the window shut. Staying low, she began to crawl to the door on her hands and knees.
“Open the window.”
Her body heated, and she was certain her eyebrows went into her hair she raised them so high. “Oh okay,” she muttered, ignoring the request. “I’ll just open the window for the talking owl. Mmhm. Sure.”
Cold air blasted the back of her neck, along with a surge of energy that was so unexpected she rocketed to her feet. In that moment, she could have pole vaulted, triple-jumped, or done something equally leap-y.
But instead of doing any of those things, she closed her eyes, uncaring of the strange voice and the strange spark and just stood there.
Each breath came easy, and her body stood straight and strong.
“That is how you could feel,” the voice said, and with that, the feeling bled away. Shoulders curving, Tatiana wrapped her arms around her middle and turned.
On the branch outside her window, the owl sat blinking at her. Their eyes locked, and his form shimmered like it was made of snowflakes.
And reformed. The being that now sat on the branch was human. Except for the wings. The wings were definitely not human. “Please open the window.”
Well. At this point, why the hell not? She’d seen the rusalka, met a man who’d told her she wasn’t human, and now there was an owl-man sitting on a branch outside her window.
Sure. Sure. Sure.
Tatiana slid the window up and popped out the screen. She followed its fall as it tumbled to the ground, and when she glanced up, the owl-man watched her with one eyebrow raised.
“I’ll get it tomorrow,” she said by way of explanation.
“All right,” he said. His body disappeared as he launched himself off of the branch toward her window. He reminded her of a swimmer diving off the block into the water. When she thought he would fall to the ground, his body shifted into the owl’s. He zoomed through her window, swept a lazy circle around her room, and came to rest on her bed. His talons dug into the comforter as he rocked from side to side, trying to find his balance.
Slowly, she approached him, waiting for the moment when he would flash from owl to man again. He seemed unworried by her careful approach, his eyes a little glassy and vacant.
She stopped a breath from the bed and crossed her arms, shivering. “Shit.” She’d forgotten the window and hustled over to shut it. When she turned back around, the man sat on the bed, his wings tucked behind him comfortably. He lounged, shirtless, against her headboard, which she supposed made sense given the wings. “It must be hard to find shirts to accommodate the wings.”
He didn’t reply, but placed his arms behind his head. Automatically, Tatiana dropped her gaze to the floor, but she forced herself to lift it. If he intended to intimidate her, it wouldn’t work. Rusalka. Disappearing man. Crazy Babusya. She could deal with a little muscle flashing.
When she met his eyes, he grinned. “Good. If you’re going to survive in Korolevstvo, you can’t be a shrinking violet.”
“Who are you?” she asked, and his eyes narrowed, like her question offended him. He moved languidly, but Tatiana got the sense each action was executed to seem innocent. Wings extended, he dipped his head toward hers as she looked up at him.
“Names h
ave power, why would I give you mine?”
She would not look away. She would not. “Grisha gave me his.”
“Call me whatever you want.” He stood with his arms at his side, so close she could feel the heat from his skin.
His attitude sucked. “Fine. Clarence. It’s nice to meet you. Clarence.”
The owl man drew his eyebrows together. “Your tone implies that you expect some sort of reaction from me.”
She had. And for some reason, she was disappointed her baiting hadn’t worked. “All right then, I’ll just call you Horny.” She stared at him and said it again, “Horny.”
She’d managed to shock him, and she resisted the desire to clip him under the chin to close his open mouth. “Because you’re an owl. A great horned owl.”
“I’m not an owl at all, exchanged girl.”
So now they were name calling? Excellent. “If you don’t like it, just tell me your real name and we can move on. And how do you know what I am?” she asked. “Is there a trail of magic leading to my window? Is there a spotlight shining onto the roof? Or did you just come to see the Christmas decorations?” She crossed her arms with the last statement, done with his attitude, even though she recognized she was giving it right back.
He was quiet, studying her closely. Finally, he let out a breath that rustled her hair. “I saw the roamer.” He shrugged. “And I was curious.”
“Being curious isn’t always a good thing. What if I’d met you at the window with a gun? What would you have done then?”
He cocked his head, blinking at her in a birdlike fashion. “Why would you have shot me?”
He was right. She wouldn’t have shot him. Not a beautiful white and gray owl, and certainly not a half man-half bird… but that wasn’t the point!
“You have to be careful whose window you go knocking on. Not everyone will be as kind as me.”
“You’re kind?” he asked. “You’re giving me ridiculous names and threatening to shoot me.”
“Because you won’t tell me your real one!” she argued. “I have to call you something!” The energy it took to argue left her spent, and she involuntarily swayed toward him.
Immediately, he caught her. “You can call me Fedir. Does that suit you?” With more gentleness than she expected, he led her to the bed and sat her on the edge. “How are you still alive?” He asked the question more of himself than her. A moment later, she was infused with the most wonderful heat. Tatiana shut her eyes and let the warmth seep into her bones.
“That feels so good,” she said.
“I imagine it does,” he said. “I can see your life draining away right before my eyes. Whoever put you here didn’t care much for you at all.”
“Damn.” She drew out the word, blaming the heat for the punchy tone she had. “You say everything you think, don’t you?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, and huffed a sigh. “Your attitude is exhausting; I’m starting to understand the hag who left you here.”
“The rusalka.”
“Call her whatever you wish.” He stared at her like she was an idiot. “Only hags steal children.”
“I—the woman was old, I wouldn’t call her a hag.”
The owl man said nothing, blinking slowly.
“There’s no need to get personal about her looks,” she continued.
“As I was saying.” Was he daring her to contradict him? “The hag is known for stealing children of all ages. She’s famous for it.” God. His stare was really intense, and Tatiana was starting to twitch under it. “What she’s not so famous for are things like you.”
A thing. She was a thing. And the way he said it: so matter of fact. She lifted her gaze to him, hating that she felt humiliated by something she had no control over. But when their eyes met, some of his haughtiness was gone, replaced with bewilderment.
“Why are you here?” she asked. “If it’s just to make me feel awful, then mission accomplished.”
His pale cheeks flushed, which only made her more unbalanced. Had she embarrassed him? It was on the tip of her tongue to apologize, but then the word thing blazed through her mind and she bit it back.
“When I saw the roamer here, I could feel your pain. It moved me.”
Oh really? If anyone was sympathetic to her pain, it wasn’t this guy. Grisha, maybe. He had a sort of humor and good-naturedness that she sensed went along with compassion. But Horny? No. He didn’t seem especially sympathetic. “I don’t believe you.”
He put his hand out, and she jerked away from him. “Calm down, I’m not going to strangle you.” This was said with a smile that had her taking another step away from him.
“You know I kicked Grisha in the balls. I’ll do it to you, too.”
Eyes widening, he stopped his approach. And maybe it was her imagination, but one of his hands moved closer to his manly bits. “The roamer.” A sudden smile appeared and disappeared on his face. “Grisha. He’s not as fast as I am.” He waved that aside and continued. “The point is I can make you feel better, for a little while at least. I wondered why a feia was here in the human world when everything around them will make them sick. But I understand now.”
“Metal,” Tatiana said. “Grisha said the metal made me sick.”
Owl man, aka Horny, aka Clarence, aka Fedir nodded. “Feia waste away when surrounded by so much iron and steel. Did—” He paused. “Grisha offer to bring you to Korolevstvo?”
“He did,” she said, wary. “I declined.”
“So you’re stupid.”
“I care about my family, and I couldn’t leave them.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, but there was so much more to consider now. “But then I got to thinking about the real Tatiana. The girl I replaced. This is her home and her family.”
“A human girl in Korolevstvo. The hag would have taken her to her sisters. They’d have raised her, if they didn’t tire of her.” He cocked his head in that bird-like fashion again. “If she is a shadow of you, she would have been beautiful. I don’t imagine they’d have drowned her if she was.”
So many things flashed through Tatiana’s mind. First, there was the image of a group of old women caring for a baby. Then an image of them pitching her into the Lehigh River. And finally, the handsome, muscle bound jerk of a winged man had called her pretty.
But he’d also called her stupid, aggravating, and worthless. Pretty didn’t mean anything when weighed against the balance of those other words.
Tatiana’s hand twitched, and she curled her fingers into a fist as she closed her eyes. Back to what was relevant. “If the real Tatiana is alive, she should have a chance to be with her family. To have the opportunities stolen from her.”
“No one is that selfless. If the human returned here, and you went to Korolevstvo, you’d live.”
This asshole! “My family deserves their real daughter! My brother deserves a life where he isn’t an afterthought! If their real baby wasn’t taken, they’d have had an easy life—with a happy marriage and celebrations. Not doctor’s appointments and belated birthday parties.”
Hot tears spilled down her face, and she whirled away so the jerk wouldn’t see them. It was still dark outside, but the snow had begun to fall again.
“If you want to go, I will bring you to Korolevstvo. But it will be your responsibility to find the human. I don’t have the time, or the interest, to deal with her or her adoptive mother.”
Tatiana nodded, dragging in big breaths to calm herself. She put her hand on her chest again to count each beat. “My mom and dad are going to be so worried.”
It was like he could read her mind. “No they won’t,” he said. “I’ll…” The man trailed off, his gaze going distant as he focused. “They believe you’re visiting a friend at college. They believe you’re healthy, for now.”
“My dad is still here?” Tatiana hadn’t even realized. She thought he’d gone hours ago.
“Yes. Your brother and grandmother as well. They all believe you’re well, and won’t worry
about you.”
“Babusya wouldn’t worry anyway, but she would ask questions. So thank you.”
He seemed surprised by her thanks and after a second, dipped his head. “You’re welcome.”
Tatiana looked around her room. “Is there anything I need to bring with me, Clarence?”
The owl man didn’t have a sense of humor. She thought for sure he was going to leave her after she threw out the nickname, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d gritted his teeth and got out, “Fedir.”
Tatiana smiled and innocently rocked from side to side. “Fedir. That’s a nice name. I’m Tatiana.”
“I know,” he replied, teeth still clenched. “And no, you don’t need anything.” He glanced at her feet. “Shoes would be good.”
“But shirts are optional?” she called as she ambled toward the closet and chuckled. He might not have a sense of humor, but she was funny as hell.
Fedir said nothing, which she expected, as she dug around for a pair of boots and then shoved them onto her feet. She was in her pajamas, and she considered changing, but her jogging pants and sweater would do.
“Is it cold?” she asked.
“It’s snowing,” Fedir answered.
“In Korolevstvo, too?”
He laughed. “No.”
She pulled a heavy sweater over her head and turned around. “I’m ready.”
“Your clothes don’t fit,” he observed.
She stared down at herself. Things had gotten bigger on her as she’d gotten sicker. “If we’re going to be spending any time together, you should probably keep your opinions about my looks and personality to yourself.”
Fedir ignored her and walked to the window, sliding it open. “Ready?”
He couldn’t be serious. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” His form shimmered, and when she blinked, an owl zipped by her, diving out the window. Tatiana followed, sticking her head out.
“Jump.”
He stood in the snow, staring up at her. Fluffy snowflakes fell around him and landed on the tips of his wings. It was coming down faster now, and it quickly built up in little hills.
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