The Volk Advent

by Kristen Joy Wilks

Liev?

  He whispered against my cheek in the darkness.

  I leaned closer. He would just think I was trying to hear what he said, right?

  “I met my father coming down the tunnel. He has Rasia and Jean Claude at the church.” Then Liev’s voice rang out into the basement. “Interestingly enough, if she spends her life in prison, the castle is still not yours, Vladim.”

  The younger Volkov laughed. “Who are you and how do you guess that?”

  “Kirill Volkov left his will with my father, the priest. He sent me to warn Faina, for Kirill told him she was to inherit. But even if you send her to prison, even if you kill her yourself, the castle will not be yours, that’s for sure.”

  Vladim shoved through a shelf of old jars and molding tapestries.

  Even in the darkness, I sensed that the two young men were standing very close.

  “Why do you say that?” Vladim whispered. His booted feet scuffed across the dusty floor.

  “If Faina cannot inherit, the castle and the grounds and all of your uncle’s resources will go to the original heir.”

  “Yes, and that would be me.”

  “No, that would be Melora Zolnerovna. The woman who hid his shame. The woman he swore to secrecy when he accidentally shot Faina’s family out of the sky.”

  Thump! A shooting pain arched through my hip. My legs had gone out from under me. I was sitting on the floor. Ms. Melora would have inherited? I didn’t need to fear Vladim after all.

  I had lived my life in fear of Ms. Melora.

  I must continue to do so. For surely the woman who fed the babies yogurt instead of formula to pinch pennies could accomplish my demise if a castle was at stake. Especially, after she had already seen to Kirill Volkov’s demise so thoroughly.

  17

  Herding Wolves Is So Much Worse Than Herding Cats

  “Oh, God. This is impossible.” I muttered it under my breath. I had not intended the words as a prayer. But strangely, as I said them they turned into one. The Bible was full of impossible people stuck up to their necks in impossible situations.

  God had made me and rescued my soul. He had a vested interest in my earthly journey. Why not ask and see if there was a second option besides “Faina Smith, Wolf Martyr and Suspected Murderess.”

  And so I prayed, although the words stayed the same. There really wasn’t much more to add. I had already said it all.

  I waited. No wash of miraculous peace overcame me. My pulse still hammered at my throat as I considered Ms. Melora disposing of me like a frozen stray cat on the doorstep. I did not feel overly spiritual or recall vast passages of scripture that I had memorized in my posh American youth.

  What did happen?

  I had an idea.

  A so-ridiculous-I-should’ve-been-institutionalized, ill-planned, crazy, and impractical idea. Could I do this? No, if all the little details didn’t line up perfectly, my brilliant plan would ruin me and anyone foolish enough to assist me.

  But what if it wasn’t a matter of could I, but should I? What if my foolish plan was the right thing to do?

  I’d heard Ms. Melora grumble a time or two about how if she just had a little capital she could start her own business and make the children earn their keep. I was pretty sure that wasn’t legal, but who would come all the way up to Siberia to enforce the law?

  My mind filled with visions of the children making caribou-antler coat racks and sable-fur cell phone covers night and day until they were grown.

  If Ms. Melora became a wealthy woman, the children would never be free of her schemes. Did the fact that the right thing was incredibly ill-advised, excuse me from attempting it?

  Was not God still at work, even when all was lost?

  I had been forgotten. If I curled up and let the darkness plunge on around me, my parents, the children I had rocked in the night, everyone I loved would be forgotten too. No. No one should be forgotten. I could not leave the babies whom I loved to that fate.

  I stuffed my trembling hands deep inside the moldy furs and turned to the two young men who were arguing over my possible guilt.

  “So, guys…I have an idea.”

  They did not respond well. But in the end, it was the only idea we had.

  Despite his fury over his uncle’s last will and testament, Vladim was less than eager to see me shot down or devoured by apex predators. He hated the idea that his uncle would honor me in his will, but Vladim did not hate me personally.

  And Liev…I had no idea what Liev thought of me, but apparently he had enough good sense to see that a stupid idea is better than no plan whatsoever.

  “OK, let’s divide up the jobs.” I shook the battered flashlight, trying to make the light hold steady after its crash against the floor. “Which one of you is better at capturing escaped wolves?”

  Both of them pointed at the other.

  I sighed and smoothed wisps of frosty hair away from my forehead with my mittens. “I guess that would be me.”

  “I’ll help you, Faina.” Liev’s voice was quiet, but when I met his gaze, I saw he meant it.

  I gave him a small smile and hoped the heat in my cheeks was some weird symptom of frostbite and not a blush.

  “That leaves Vladim to find Rhys Adaire and get him on board.” I turned to Kirill’s nephew. “Remember, his message to Ms. Melora needs to sound authentically desperate and panicked.”

  “I’ve got it. Adaire will eat this up. It’s just the kind of overly dramatic drivel they love on TV.”

  I hoped so, we had not been privy to much reality TV in the orphanage, so I could only guess. But if murder, turbulent dialogues, and inconsistently fed wolves were on Rhys Adaire’s shopping list for his show, then Vladim had a chance.

  As Vladim hurried off toward the stair that led to the upper parts of the castle, I turned to Liev. “If you will get the fish and check on Rasia, I’ll find Chobo and meet you at the grand staircase.”

  He put his hand on my shoulder for just an instant.

  I was breathless at that simple touch. What was wrong with me? Was I truly so pitiable? It was all I could do not to step a little closer, for Liev’s eyes were blue and deep and magnetic and seemed to say a thousand things all at once. Things about courage and pride and being willing to stake everything he had on a long shot if that long shot was honorable.

  He didn’t need to help me avoid a murder rap and prison, but he was. It is the right thing to do, his eyes said. Could the guy who had volunteered to trap the wolves with me really only remember my shorn head and years of hurt? Or did Liev see me as something else, something valuable despite all that Ms. Melora had told me?

  He was the one to step closer. Liev took off his mitten and brushed a fleck of fallen frost from my cheek with his thumb. “As you say, I will meet you on the grand stair.” Then he stepped back, slipped his mitten on, and walked down the deserted castle corridor toward the escape tunnel.

  He turned and glanced my way before he ducked under the sagging lintel of the tunnel door and disappeared.

  The frigid air was clear. I hadn’t been breathing. I pulled in an icy breath. All right, now all I had to do was find Chobo, convince her to be as brave as I was pretending to be, and wait for Liev.

  I crept up to the castle’s vast main doors and peered out one of the ice-etched windows on either side. Chobo was nowhere in sight. If she was smart, the mutt had hightailed it back to the church where Liev’s dad would let her curl up in the coat room.

  Nonetheless, I eased the heavy oak door open. It thumped against something substantial. I heard an animal noise and the scratch of claws upon stone. I yanked the door shut and pressed my back against it, breathing hard. Was there more than one wolf watching the door?

  I slid over to the window to look out.

  Something breathed against the frozen glass.

  I took a step back. Light gray fur, two paws up on the windowsill, pointed ears, a long pink tongue lolling over sharp teeth, and a curly tail wagging furiously in the backgrou
nd.

  Oh. I opened the door and Chobo bounded inside. She greeted me so earnestly that I had to wrap both arms around her and drag her down into a sit before I could get the door shut. Just because Chobo wasn’t a wolf didn’t mean there weren’t wolves nearby. I didn’t have time to sit around and get licked to death while the door stood open inviting the whole pack in.

  When Liev met me at the grand stair, Chobo rushed toward him, obviously intent upon a similar shower of affection.

  “Sit!” he shouted.

  Chobo’s furry bottom hit the floor even as she slid across the polished tiles to bump against his legs.

  Liev gave her a bite of reindeer jerky from his pocket and helped me to my feet.

  “Does she always obey so…enthusiastically? I’ve been working on a command, but the results have been kind of sporadic.”

  He ruffled Chobo’s ears and led me to the main door. “No, the sit command has taken me years. But my mother taught her a convincing ‘play dead’ which comes in handy when we have folks over for dinner since she does not know ‘stay.’”

  We ventured out of the castle and the full force of dawn hit my face.

  It was January 7th, Christmas morning.

  I was terrified. I sneaked a glance at Liev and realized that this terrible moment had its own kind of charm. A rush of guilt dowsed my euphoria. Not only had Liev abandoned the All Night Vigil on my behalf, if he didn’t hurry, the priest’s son was about to miss The Divine Liturgy of the Nativity, as well. Way to go, Faina.

  Now the priest would be able to add my unholy influence on his son to his wife’s earlier experience with the head lice epidemic. I just couldn’t stop showing these people my most magnificent moments, could I? I ignored the clamping nausea in my stomach and pressed on.

  The castle had a small, walled garden. A private sanctuary within the larger grounds. In late spring, I’d heard that it brimmed with flowering trees, red and yellow tulips, patches of delicate blue wood squill, and beds of deep purple iris. Right now it brimmed with brittle tree skeletons and ice. But the garden had an eight foot wall and a gate with a lock and that was all that our foolish plan required of it.

  As per my request, Liev carried an enormous leather bag full of frozen fish. Their stiff, icy tails stuck out the top and thumped against his leg as he walked. We piled several fishsicles at the back of the garden farthest from the door. We laid one down smack in the middle of the garden gate and three more about fifty feet apart making a fishy path toward the walled garden.

  Liev, Chobo, and I hunkered down behind the chapel and waited for the wolves.

  Silence.

  There were no wolves.

  We waited for an eternity.

  Vladim returned and assured me that Rhys Adaire was ecstatic about my ill-considered plan and had agreed to contact Ms. Melora.

  I couldn’t see the camera crew anywhere.

  Vladim gave me a thumbs up and brushed my worries aside when I voiced them.

  “They are on the wall. Stop your worry. Find your wolves.”

  I couldn’t argue with him. Operation: Apocalyptic Foolishness was ready to go. All we were lacking was a hungry pack of full grown Eurasian wolves. And a dog who obeys and isn’t as much of a simpering wimp as you are. I glanced down at Chobo and pushed the thought aside. She would come through. Both of us had survived eight unplanned years in the depths of Siberia, surely we had grown a bit of backbone in all that time.

  We spread out, looking for our fuzzy friends.

  Liev insisted I take Chobo for “protection.”

  Of course the wolves found Chobo in no time. She trotted around the corner of the mews where Kirill Volkov could have kept hunting falcons if he had ever wanted to do so.

  There were no falcons, but there were plenty of wolves.

  Chobo stopped and turned in one swift motion. She tucked her tail and came barreling toward me like a furry, slobbering, rocket of doom.

  I spun and did likewise. Where had we left the fish? My limbs were tingling with adrenaline and my pulse slammed against my throat. Fish, fish, fish! We needed to lead them to the fish.

  Chobo stumbled, fell on one shoulder, and skidded across the courtyard.

  I jumped over a long, gray object that sat in the middle of the path. The fish! I grabbed a fist full of her ruff and yanked Chobo to her feet. Her furry paws churned up the snow as I shoved her toward the chapel.

  A chorus and long howls broke the bright morning quiet. Then the pack came. Sleek and lean, they ran fast as shadow and air. Their song made every hair on the back of my neck stand on end and froze the breath in my lungs even as I ran.

  Liev bolted from the chapel. He got to us before the wolves and shoved me inside. Then he turned, kicked into the space where I had been standing and slammed the door on the sound of a yelp and a snarl.

  I sank into one of the dented wooden pews and quietly hyperventilated.

  Liev stood at one of the stained glass windows, watching the wolves. After a moment he walked toward the door. On his way past he stopped, squeezed my hand, and took a breath as though he might say something. The moment was etched upon the air between us. But then he turned and slipped the bolt on the door. He eased outside and slammed the door shut behind him.

  I rushed to the window.

  Liev jogged across the empty courtyard. Snow swirled around his feet and the sun glinted from the icy branches of decorative trees and an arching arbor whose flowering vine appeared twisted and dead in the January light. He slipped up against the garden wall and shuffled toward the gate. A quick peek inside and he paused, counting.

  I waited, my chest aching and tight.

  Liev counted again, then he grabbed the heavy brass ring and heaved the gate shut.

  I pressed my forehead against the glass and let the air sigh from my lungs. He’d made it. The wolves were trapped and Liev was fine. I clenched my fists until they ceased their trembling and then scrambled to my feet and reached for the door.

  Wolves: check!

  Now all we needed was my killer.

  18

  Ms. Melora Insults My Dog

  Rhys Adaire paced in front of the garden wall.

  I paced with him.

  Chobo sat by the gate, peeking through a crack in the wall at the wolves. They were playing their part with gusto, snapping and snarling over the heap of frozen fish. But would Chobo perform her duty or bound around in the snow woo woo wooing, instead?

  The crunch of footsteps came from across the snowy courtyard.

  Rhys Adaire put a hand on my shoulder and shoved me back until I bumped the garden wall. “You stay there.” His voice was a little too loud. In the clear winter morning it carried to Ms. Melora perfectly.

  Her smirk indicated she’d heard the TV man’s harsh tone.

  “What do you have for me, Adaire? I see the girl, but what is this about Kirill?”

  “I had no idea you were so industrious, Melora. The girl figured it out and told me everything. But you have a problem. Volkov isn’t dead. The girl dragged him off somewhere and has hidden him.”

  “Kirill Volkov is in danger? We must find him at once.”

  I bit my lip.

  Ms. Melora wasn’t being very helpful. If she didn’t admit to anything on camera, my brilliant plan was a bust, and I would pay for murder.

  “Don’t play coy, I know what you’ve done.”

  Ms. Melora simply smiled and gazed over Adaire’s head at the garden. “Why are the wolves out of their pen? Surely Mr. Volkov would not want them trampling his garden, even in January.” The woman played her part with conviction and style, I had to give her that.

  It was time to shake things up. I looked at the corner of the wall where I could just see Liev’s eyes, peering back. I nodded.

  He nodded back.

  A moment later Chobo came bounding toward us.

  I screamed and screamed and screamed, like a hapless blonde in the grasp of a monstrous ape. Chobo thundered over. When she jumped up,
I crumpled and managed to increase my screams of terror. I squeezed a handful of opened ketchup packets from Rhys Adaire’s limo and thrashed around in the snow. A red stain painted the ground. I shuddered. “Snack time!” I whispered.

  Chobo crouched low and began to snarl.

  I twitched again and lay still.

  Rhys Adaire gasped and stumbled backwards into Ms. Melora. “They missed one. Oh, my goodness. One of the wolves is loose!” He gave a strangled cry, flung his coffee cup skyward, and hot footed it across the courtyard toward one of the arches in the castle’s lowest level.

  Ms. Melora gave a girlish shriek and stumbled after him.

  Wow? It worked. Except Ms. Melora had yet to say even a single incriminating word and was hustling away from the cameras at a remarkable speed for an older lady wearing sensible shoes…um…boots, that is.

  I jumped up and took off after her.

  Liev was ahead of me, running near the bottom of the outer wall.

  I poured on the speed, wishing I had thought to tell him to bring snacks. Everyone else had broken their fast with the twelve course Holy Supper on Christmas Eve. My stomach growled, despite my imminent peril. Thoughts of pagach bread dipped in honey and tiny poppy seed filled bobal’ki biscuits assailed my mind. The remembered scent of sweet kutya porridge, savory beans, and new potatoes drenched in butter made me feel more than a little faint as I tried my best to sprint after Liev.

  Despite the danger, a grand Christmas feast suddenly materialized within my mind. The kind of feast that those in the village would enjoy tonight. Stuffed boar’s head, sour cream hare, and flaky kurnik with mushrooms and chicken.

  Even if I hadn’t had a murder rap and slavering wolves to contend with, the imaginary feast would not have been part of my imminent future. These delicacies were not orphanage fare. But even so, I had enjoyed a few tastes of the Christmas feast, just enough to let me know what I was missing.

  Even if the boar’s head proved too spendy, Liev’s family would be having Siberian dumplings packed with sausage, blini topped with caviar, creamy potato and salmon salad, and blueberry tartaletki with lemon sour cream. I knew because the priest’s family often brought treats to the children after the holiday. These secondhand nibbles of the village celebration made up my Christmas memories.