The Volk Advent

by Kristen Joy Wilks

  Rhys Adaire ducked into a dark archway at the base of the castle.

  Ms. Melora was close behind, but she stumbled to a stop just outside the entrance.

  Chobo galloped up to her, still snarling.

  Liev and I were on their heels, staying just out of sight.

  Ms. Melora spun on Chobo, laughing. “Good,” she paused to pull in a few wheezing breaths, “I have you all here.”

  Chobo crouched low as she crept toward the orphanage director. Her snarls remained the same, but there was a droop to her tail that gave me concern. Was she losing her nerve now that the prey had turned to face her? Chobo had been the runt of the litter. Friendly and full of charm if all was well, but prone to trembling and flight if even a large butterfly or fierce mouse approached her favorite bone.

  I’d probably picked her because the frightened animal was so much like me. Neither of us had what it took. My years in the orphanage had proven that much. I had only done the right thing when no one was looking.

  But everyone was watching now.

  Ms. Melora braced one hand against the stone wall and kicked Chobo full in the face with her heavy, booted foot. Chobo tumbled on her furry rear. Ms. Melora shoved her with a foot and Chobo yipped and rolled down the dark stone stair within the arch.

  Rhys Adaire cried out from the darkness below

  There was a rush of air as Liev charged past me after his dog.

  Ms. Melora slammed her shoulder against the thick oak door. It grated across the cold tiles of the courtyard. She pulled back to shove it one more time but a streak of gray fur burst through the narrow opening. Ms. Melora smashed the door shut and lunged toward Chobo. But the dog tucked her tail and disappeared around the back of the castle.

  The orphanage director made a dismissive gesture in the direction of Chobo’s flight and pulled a thick padlock out of her coat pocket. She clamped the lock over the heavy metal door pieces that I had presumed were decorative.

  Chobo was nowhere in sight and my stalwart companions were trapped in the lower reaches of the castle without a light.

  I stepped toward the arch.

  Ms. Melora turned to me and smiled. “Now, my girl, where have you stashed our dear Mr. Volkov?”

  19

  The Wolves Are Not Contained

  I took a step back. “Oh, you know…he’s somewhere safe, recovering.”

  “Yes, recovering from three gunshot wounds in the chest and multiple wolf bites. How goes his convalescence?”

  Ha! That was as good as a confession. I glanced up at the wall by the guard towers. Too far, they were too far away. I needed her to confess right by the garden where the camera crew had hidden a mic. I smiled and took another step back. I couldn’t do this. I just couldn’t. But where could I run? Where could I go? “You seem well informed.” I managed to gasp out as I eased backward.

  Wow, three shots to the chest. I hadn’t taken the time to inspect Kirill Volkov’s wounds, what with all of my panicking and my concern over the newly freed wolves. Ms. Melora had to be the killer. Who else would be privy to those details?

  She seemed to read my mind. “I listen to the gossip, that is all.”

  I backed up some more.

  Ms. Melora followed me, the smile still grim and bright upon her face.

  “There’s gossiping going on in the middle of the night? Because his niece didn’t find him until after dark and most everyone was home enjoying The Holy Supper. Why would anyone be out gossiping with you?”

  She lunged for me then.

  I darted back, spun, and sprinted toward the enclosed wall of the garden. I was running again, but if this was my last flight, the least I could do was run in the right direction. Chobo may not have changed, but I was not the same trembling little girl who had been carried into the orphanage eight years ago.

  Last night I had said “no” to Ms. Melora. I had refused to ignore the children in the long gray cribs around me and I had walked—well, kind of stumbled actually—out of that door on my own two feet. I was not the same girl at all.

  I heaved in icy breaths and ran for my life. The problem: I was pretty sure Ms. Melora had eaten in the last twenty-four hours. In fact, she probably hadn’t been fasting on Christmas Eve at all. So while the woman was older and not wearing totally awesome Liev-made valenki like me, she had food in her belly and a good night’s rest to fuel her pursuit. Also, something about our conversation was niggling at the back of my mind, even as I ran.

  Yes, recovering from three gunshot wounds in the chest and multiple wolf bites.

  Ms. Melora had a gun! Forget the food and the rest, the woman could just skid right to a stop and blast me to pieces from a distance. I pumped my arms, hoping they would inspire my leaden legs to pick up the pace. I glanced over my shoulder. Why wasn’t she shooting? Could she actually believe my ridiculous story about Mr. Volkov?

  A shot rent the air.

  My ears rang with the echo as it ricocheted off the stone walls.

  Nope, she did not believe my story after all. Serpentine, my stressed-out brain supplied a word and an image of a TV detective running back and forth to avoid gunfire. I immediately did likewise, although the icy ground made sudden turns morph into skidding slides.

  Two more shots. Apparently Ms. Melora wasn’t used to a moving target.

  I remained un-maimed, although I moved slower and slower. My lungs seemed about to crack, as if a crust of ice was forming on the inside of my chest after sucking in such great gulps of -40 degree air.

  I made it to the garden. I skidded to a stop, bracing my mittens against the icy stones before I hit the garden enclosure. I pushed off and ran parallel to the wall, past the garden gate, and toward the corner.

  We were in view of the cameras, but Ms. Melora was doing a whole lot of shooting and not much confessing.

  Another shot split the air. This time it was close. Sharp chips of stone sprayed from the rock as the bullet dug into the wall ahead of me. Serpentine! I’d been running straight along the wall. One more shot echoed around me. It zipped by my shoulder and I choked on my haggard breaths.

  Serpentine, serpentine, serpent… I stumbled over my own feet. This was it. I could barely move. At least I would be killed quickly, instead of torn apart by wolves.

  I stumbled again, but managed the two more steps that got me around the corner. I could go no further. I slumped against the garden wall, sliding down the cold gray barrier until I sat in a heap at its base.

  The muscles in my legs trembled and cramped and burned with fatigue. I retched into the snow, but my stomach held nothing but acid. My lungs were full of icy fire. I choked as my body demanded air faster than I could supply it.

  Where was Ms. Melora? Shouldn’t she have shot me by now?

  Instead of the sound of a gunshot, or the crunch of boots upon the snow, a low groaning creak came from around the corner. I sat in confusion for a moment. Then I felt the blood drain from my face.

  She’d opened the garden gate.

  Ms. Melora had released the wolves.

  A smug voice came from around the corner. “You are very fast, little girl. But I am curious. What on earth could be inside this lovely garden? Let us find this out together.”

  Ack! Even this was not enough to constitute a confession. Her words were malicious and threatening to me, as I waited to be torn to shreds by wolves. But would they portray malevolent intent on video? Would her actions seem like a tragic accident or the murder of a falsely accused orphan?

  I had to get more, but the wolves would be creeping toward the garden gate by now. Had they eaten their fill of frozen fish or was a traumatized girl too irresistible a delicacy to decline?

  My legs trembled and the muscles clenched tight as I attempted to rise. I looked across the courtyard. I had run to the side of the garden that faced the castle.

  Someone stepped out of a dark archway and beckoned to me. It was Vladim. Apparently, he had found another exit from the basement passages.

  If
I could run that far without getting shot, perhaps I might end Christmas day with a beating pulse. But what would it matter? If I didn’t get a confession from Ms. Melora, it was off to prison for sure. I looked over my shoulder.

  The orphanage director stepped around the corner. Her gun was gone. Had she seen a camera man and hidden the weapon or just run out of bullets?

  I braced my shoulder against the wall and managed to gain my feet. My thumb brushed against something imbedded in the wall. Another mic? Rhys Adaire’s crew had installed another mic on this side of the wall.

  “I saw the cameraman in the watchtower, little girl. But we are all alone, you and I, back here behind this wide wall. You want me to confess? I shall do it here, just us, alone in the silence of the garden.”

  A howl broke through the frosty morning air and then another and another until the whole pack sang out their savage song. They were no longer in the garden.

  I looked back toward the dark alcove where Vladim hid. There were no wolves between us yet. I could run, if my legs would obey me.

  But Ms. Melora had promised to confess. The woman wasn’t likely to confess to an empty patch of air.

  If I moved, she would chase me or shoot at me or see the mic in the wall. If I didn’t, well, the wolves were coming. I could feel the warm thudding of blood against my throat. The wolves would smell my fear and the hot rush pumping through my veins. These wolves had been raised in a cage, fed meat through the bars whenever hunger came gnawing. What they saw before them was a table set with icy fish chunks, a fleeing malamute, and a weak, exhausted girl. It was a no-brainer. Eat another solid hunk of frozen fish, or chase down a tender, screaming delicacy. I was nothing but soft, pink flesh and full-blown delicious. I could not stay here. I had to run.

  “Do you know that I discovered the change in Kirill’s will just before Rhys Adaire asked you to cut off your hair?” She took a step toward me.

  The long, lanky shape of a wolf ghosted behind her and stopped by the trunk of a leafless tree. Another wolf joined him, this one dark and grim.

  I leaned against the wall, far enough from the stone so that her voice could reach the mic, but not so far away that she might see the small device.

  A pale wolf joined the others, scenting the wind and meeting my gaze with intent, golden eyes.

  I pulled my gaze away from it and faced the woman who had raised me.

  “And what did you do then, Ms. Melora? I know you hid me and didn’t tell a soul where I’d come from. When Kirill Volkov’s guilt grew so that he could press back the truth no longer, what did you do then?”

  Two more wolves joined the pack behind the tree. They slunk out from behind it and crouched low with their hackles raised. With eyes like the flat, golden coins atop a dragon’s hoard, the wolves crept ever closer.

  20

  Now That’s Some Quality Entertainment

  No, I would not flee beneath the castle and accept my place as a suspected murderess. Neither was I content to run into the forest and freeze to death as an anonymous orphan. Even if I somehow managed to cheat death for a time, these feeble victories were unacceptable. I stood beside the hidden mic, ignored the approaching wolves, and gave Ms. Melora a hard stare. I wanted the truth.

  “You know what I did, I don’t need to explain it. You know that I was justified.”

  “Murder hardly seems like the obvious first step in a conflict resolution situation, Ms. Melora.”

  She laughed at me then and leaned her hip against the wall. “You’re right. It was not the first step. I had been going back and forth with Kirill for years. We were lovers once, did you know? So, he brought you to me and I took you in. What else was I to do, the love of my life was in danger and needed his deadly secret covered and forgotten. I could do that for him and so I did. But then he began to weaken. The years of lying took Kirill’s sleep and he sought out the priest more and more often. In time I did not know him. He despised the accident. He despised himself for his carelessness and he grew to despise me for my part in hiding his shame. Is that fair? I did nothing but show my love, and he grew to hate me for my sacrifice and compassion.”

  “No,” I whispered. “It’s not fair at all.”

  “And so, he pulled me aside and explained his plan of restitution. How he would give everything he owned to the orphan of the Americans he had slain. Stone and iron seized my heart. He had promised it all to me, out of our great love that promise was born, and now it was nothing to him. So yes, I killed him and I let the wolves take his corpse when they grew furious with hunger. But it was not a rash decision, little girl. He wove that trap himself. It took years of rejection and heartache. Betrayal killed Kirill Volkov, and the betrayal was not mine, but his.”

  Oh, yeah! I had my confession. In fact, it looked as though Rhys Adaire had his footage as well. I glanced toward the wolves by the tree, the glint of camera equipment caught my eye. The crew had set up in the other watch tower as well. No wonder they had a mic on this wall too. My brief exultation ended as I did a double take toward the bare tree.

  The wolves were gone.

  I pressed my back against the garden wall.

  The wolves had slipped closer during Ms. Melora’s villainous monologue. Much closer. All seven of the tall, shaggy creatures were in attendance. They formed a jagged ring around Ms. Melora and me. There was nowhere to run, for every angle of escape was covered by a lean, alert shape with a gleam of intense interest in its eye.

  Why had I not noticed how happy predators appeared when they had cornered their prey? The satisfied expression and twitching tail of a cat with a mouse had escaped me. The wagging tail and perky ears of Chobo digging a squirrel out of a decaying log had never given me pause. But now that pleased expression was turned upon me.

  I looked into seven pairs of eager, yellow eyes. Saw the wolves prick their ears forward and tremble with anticipation. At least someone was having fun, right?

  I scanned the distant wall and the watchtower where Adaire’s crew filmed. No one stirred. Apparently, the camera crew had been trained to never interfere with the course of nature. Well, nature wouldn’t be pretty today.

  A movement against the far wall caught my eye. I squinted over the heads of the wolves as they crept nearer.

  Liev and Chobo were moving at an angle toward the walled garden.

  My pulse jerked in my throat and my heart thudded out a faster rhythm. He had escaped the castle basements, but would they be in time? I looked back at the wolves. We were quite thoroughly surrounded. Without a gun or a steam roller, there was nothing Liev could do even if he arrived before the feast began.

  I closed my eyes in prayer, for there was nothing left to do but die. Lord, I don’t know if You’ve noticed, but I’ve been…um…upset. You allowed my parents to die and Kirill Volkov to get away with murder. I am about to be devoured. Things have not gone well. It is a relief to know that the truth will be told, that I will not be remembered as a killer. But there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of good here. However, since my death appears sure, I do thank You for the chance to rock the babies at the orphanage. Thank You that I am not blind to their plight, but will die having loved and given love. Thank You for the discovery of the truth, for Chobo, and for Liev…

  A thought interrupted my adrenaline-fueled conversation with God. I looked up.

  The wolves were right in front of us.

  Ms. Melora pulled out her gun. Shouldn’t she be running out of bullets soon, unless she had a bunch of ammo in her pocket?

  But Liev and Chobo were closer as well. They ran toward us, just a few yards from the ring of wolves.

  “Chobo,” I yelled. “Snack time!”

  She cringed back and faltered. She wouldn’t do it.

  I opened my mouth to shout for her again.

  But then the dog’s tail curled up and her ears pricked forward, her shoulders tensed and Chobo the fearful, charged straight into the pack of wolves like a great, fat, freight train of destruction.

&n
bsp; My fearful pup was no longer the runt.

  Chobo was much thicker than the wolves. They might have been lean hunting machines, but she had been gobbling up snacks and scraps for the past eight years with wild abandon. All those treats gave weight to her charge. For a moment, she was victorious. She barreled toward me, knocking wolves left and right. Like snarling, gray bowling pins, they were flattened by her hurtling advance. The wolves picked themselves up immediately and regrouped, but Chobo had given Liev just enough time.

  He slipped through the gap she had opened and zapped the wolves back with a small black device. The taser. The taser from the wolf cage. Why hadn’t I picked that up? The familiar electric zing seemed to remind the pack that they had lived their entire lives in a pen eating nothing but frightened bunnies and reindeer carcasses. Volkov must have had to tase them before, for they slunk back, cowed and repentant.

  Each wolf slipped away.

  Vladim Volkov had rushed through, too and now was busy tying Ms. Melora up with some rope from the castle’s basement. He must have been able to grapple her gun away, or she’d been out of bullets. Either way, she was no longer a threat.

  Liev slumped against the garden wall, heaving in breaths. He glanced toward me and without thinking, I scooted closer. Liev took a deep breath and closed the distance between us. He stood in front of me for an instant and then tipped my chin up with one mittened hand. There was a question in his eyes and an electric silence crackled between us.

  Gravity seemed incredibly strong and I swayed toward him slightly.

  Liev pulled off his mittens. Gently, he cupped my jaw in rough, strong hands. He paused, looking long into my eyes.

  Part of me wanted to run. What was I thinking?

  Liev would just grouch about my hair and leave as soon as the crisis was over.

  It was adrenaline. This powerful magnet that tugged me toward him was nothing more than a rush of fearsome chemicals.

  Ever so slowly he tipped my chin and leaned closer.