If she cooperated, he would eventually let her little friends go. Probably. It wasn’t as though they really mattered. Maybe he would give them to some of his men who had been unusually loyal or productive. Not Tommy here; the man actually had a wife and children, and seemed quite devoted to them. It didn’t matter. He could figure that part out later.
For now, he couldn’t wait to get back to that warehouse and see the despair and hopelessness in her eyes. The knowledge that once you belonged to Victor Mendoza, you always belonged to Victor Mendoza, until he said otherwise. It was a lesson long overdue, and one he was going to relish teaching her. Snow or no snow, it was going to be a wonderful night.
• • •
IT was a lousy night, despite the fact that the snow had finally stopped and the gusty wind had died down. One might even think the quiet city was beautiful . . . if one was not endeavoring to get back to someone important. Who might be in a world of trouble. So Gregori ignored the beauty and instead cursed the snow under his breath as he navigated the newly transformed Jeep through the winter wonderland that had replaced Minneapolis.
What normally would have been a ten-minute drive had already taken more than thirty, and they were still blocks away from the soup kitchen. Twice he’d had to back up all the way down a street when he’d reached the end and found the adjoining road unplowed and impassable. Once he had actually driven on the sidewalk to get around a stalled city bus. Thankfully, there were no policemen nearby to see.
Next to him in the passenger seat, Jarilo was looking around with interest. It occurred to Gregori that his father had never seen a city this large or buildings so tall. In fact, since he was usually resurrected in the spring, it was possible Jarilo had never seen snow before either.
“Are you all right, Father?” Gregori asked. He had no idea what effect it had on a god to be yanked summarily out of his normal cycle. “Our calling you here has not harmed you in any way, has it?”
Jarilo tore his gaze away from the window to face Gregori. “What? No, not at all. I do not have the strength I would normally enjoy in the spring or summer, but I am still a god. Walking the Earth out of season may tire me somewhat, but it cannot harm me.”
“Good,” Gregori said, and went back to brooding about Ciera.
“So, tell me about this woman of yours,” his father said, as if reading his mind.
Sun jerked the wheel and almost sent them into a spin, but managed to pull out of it at the last moment. “She is not my woman,” he said. “Ciera is a friend who may be in trouble; that is all.”
There was muted laughter from the backseat, but when he glanced into the rearview mirror, both Bella and Koshka gazed back with innocent, blank expressions.
“I am going to be a monk,” he said, as if that was the end of the discussion. He should have known it would never be that easy in present company.
“Uh-huh,” Bella said. “So you don’t have any romantic feelings for this Ciera at all?”
Gregori opened his mouth and then closed it again.
“Look,” he said, pointing. “There is the soup kitchen.” The lights were still on, despite the late hour, and he could make out the snow-covered mounds of long-buried cars in the parking lot at the side. Clearly, the volunteers had kept the place open, city regulations or no city regulations.
“Fine, change the subject,” Koshka muttered. “You’re not fooling anyone.”
Gregori angled the car as close to the edge of the street as he could get, although the mountain of snow left by the last pass from the plows meant it was still sticking halfway out into the right lane. It did not matter. He would only be there long enough to check and make sure Ciera and the girls had made it back all right and that his feeling she was in danger was nothing more than an illusionary side effect of a long and difficult night.
Once he had assured himself of her safety, his father could return to the realm of the gods to resume his winter rest, Gregori would take Bella and Koshka to the doorway to the Otherworld so they, too, could return home, and he would go back to the monastery for . . .
For a moment, the reason he had chosen that option escaped him. Then he remembered the imbalance that was warping his mind and body. Yes, to deal with that. There was no time for anything else. Although at the moment, his head felt reasonably clear other than the echoing sound of Ciera’s voice, calling for him. Hopefully that would cease as soon as he saw her.
He told himself that was why he took the shoveled path to the door at almost a run, despite the treacherous surface underfoot. Jarilo, Bella, and Koshka followed at a slightly saner speed.
Once inside, he peered around, hoping to spot a familiar braid of kinky black hair, or the face that haunted his dreams no matter how much he tried to ignore it. The place was packed fuller than he had ever seen it, with people—mostly teens, but a few older—leaning against every available wall space, spread out on sleeping bags on the floor, some even lying on top of the tables where dinner was normally served. The volunteers had obviously decided to let in as many people as they could squeeze into the space. They’d cleared away the food, but there were still urns of coffee and tea for anyone who wanted them, and the mood seemed reasonably mellow, despite the overcrowding and the usual smattering of mentally ill folks talking to themselves or rocking quietly in corners. There was even one boy with long hair and multiple piercings strumming on a guitar, surrounded by young mothers with drowsy children.
But no Ciera. And no group of giggling teenage girls, at least not the ones he was looking for. His treacherous heart sped up, no matter how much he told it there was nothing to be alarmed about, and no emotional involvement to warrant such a reaction.
An exhausted-looking Elisabeth staggered out of the kitchen carrying another large coffee urn, and he hurried over to take it out of her hands. She surrendered it gratefully, and then gave him a tired smile when she recognized him.
“Gregori, thank goodness you’re all right. We were starting to worry when you didn’t come back. Did you find Ciera at her apartment?” She pushed a stray piece of gray hair out of her face.
“No,” he said. “You have not seen her either?” She shook her head and they looked at each other in shared worry.
“I’m sure she’s okay,” Elisabeth said. “Probably just couldn’t make it back here. The streets are terrible.”
Bella, Jarilo, and Koshka came up behind him. “Is she here?” Bella asked.
Gregori shook his head, the chorus of Gregori, where are you? I need you. Please come find me. Find us. Gregori, where are you? so loud in his head he could barely hear Bella speak. So loud, in fact, that when he first heard the ominous creaking sound overhead, he ignored it, assuming it was part of whatever out-of-control psychic phenomenon was rattling his brains.
Then a chunk of the ceiling almost fell onto his head and he revised that assessment.
Elisabeth said a couple of very rude words of the sort she normally didn’t allow within the soup kitchen’s walls, and ran outside, pulling her sweater closer around her when the cold air hit.
Gregori and the others were right behind her, and they all gazed in trepidation and alarm at the roof of the shelter, which was beginning to buckle under the weight of all the snow. A loud cracking sound heralded a beam giving way somewhere inside, and a baby’s wail could be heard through the open door.
“What do we do now?” Elisabeth said to no one in particular. “If that roof caves in, we’re completely screwed.”
The lights on the opposite side of the street flickered and went out.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she said, eyes wide and staring. “If the roof caves in and the power goes out, we won’t even be able to see to get people out of the building. Not that it matters, because if they have to leave, they won’t have anyplace to go. Gregori, what the hell are we going to do?”
CHAPTER 27
GREGORI was
not sure why she was asking him, since she had been working at the shelter a lot longer than he had, and certainly had more experience with the harsh Minnesota winters than he did. Of course, as it happened, he had something she did not: a powerful witch and a not-as-powerful-as-usual god. Although he had no idea how he was going to explain it if they did help, since whatever they did was likely to be both supernatural and showy.
He hesitated for a moment, less out of fear of exposing his companions’ unusual abilities than because he was being torn between the voice in his head begging for his help and the more obvious crisis right in front of him. How could he leave? But on the other hand, how could he stay?
Bella, ever perceptive, figured it out right away.
“Go find her,” she said, giving him a gentle shove in the direction of the car. “We’ve got this.”
His father nodded. “We will keep these people safe. You have my word on it. Go rescue your lady.” He winked. “All I ask is that I get to meet her, after you do.”
Elisabeth winced as an outer corner of the building broke off, borne to the ground by the massive icicle that had been adorning its edges. “What are you three talking about?” she asked, hands clenched at her sides in frustration. “I don’t see anything any of us can do. We’d have to use shovels and roof rakes to get that snow off, and not only can we not even get close to the building to do so, it wouldn’t be safe for anyone to try it.”
“Can you keep a secret?” Bella asked, the hint of a laugh hiding just under the surface.
“Um, sure,” Elisabeth said. “What, you guys are superheroes in disguise?”
“Hardly,” Bella said. “I’m a legendary witch out of Russian fairy tales, and Gregori’s father is a Russian god.”
“A minor god,” Jarilo clarified. “Out of my season.”
The older woman just looked confused. “This is no time for jokes,” she said. “People are going to die if that roof comes down. I am going to have to go back in there and tell them that the only shelter they have for the night is about to fall in, and they’re going to be back on the streets in the cold.” She blinked back tears that immediately froze on her eyelashes.
“It’s going to be okay,” Bella said. “Look.”
She waved her hand and muttered some arcane words. A section of snow lifted off the building and wafted gently down to the ground. Jarilo raised an eyebrow and pointed one finger at another section, which glowed for a moment and then turned into rainwater, cascading harmlessly down off the edge it was nearest.
“Holy shit,” Elisabeth whispered.
The lights on their side of the street flickered and browned out, and Bella sighed and waved her hand again until they returned to full strength.
“This is going to take us a while,” she said to Gregori. “We’re going to have to remove the snow bit by bit, so we don’t make the pressure on the roof even worse, and we’ll have to figure out where to put it so it doesn’t make a bigger mess than it has already.” She shoved him a little less gently this time. “There’s nothing you can do to help. Go find Ciera.”
Gregori stood there feeling useless. “I do not know how. I can feel her calling me, and I know I have the ability to call on our connection and have it lead me to her—I just do not have any idea how to make that work!” He thought his frustration was going to make him explode, if the pressure of the psychic energies inside his head did not do so first.
Jarilo wrinkled his brow, absently turning another chunk of snow into rainwater as he pondered. “You simply need something to channel this connection into. Something you can follow easily.”
“Like a magical GPS,” Bella added. “Something that would indicate if you were getting closer or farther away.”
“It is too bad all the birds are hiding from the storm,” his father said. “You could have tied something of yours to a raven or pigeon and watched to see which direction it flew in.”
Gregori had a sudden flash of inspiration. The only question was, had the thing he needed, which had been in the saddlebags of the Ducati, made the transition along with the bike? He pulled open the front passenger door and yanked open the glove compartment, but the only thing inside was his tool roll. Bending down, he rooted under the seat desperately, almost giving up before his reaching fingers brushed against something soft.
“Got you!” he said, straightening up with the feather in his hand. Even in the dark night, its red-and-orange hue glowed softly, letting off a gentle heat he could feel distinctly through his gloves.
“Is that . . .” Bella blinked. “Is that a phoenix feather? I’ve never seen one. It’s so beautiful.”
“And it has its own innate magic. That should work quite well,” Jarilo added. “Wherever did you get it?”
“Mikhail left it for me, back in the Otherworld,” Gregori said shortly, not wanting to go into the fact that he had run off and left his brother without a word. Still, the gesture had always touched him, and he had never stopped carrying the feather with him, no matter where he traveled.
Perhaps his brother had somehow known that someday Gregori would need it, although it seemed unlikely, since his new gift was shape-changing, not precognition. Either way, the gift was perfect for the task at hand. If he could figure out how to make it work the way he wanted it to.
What was it the abbot had said? Something about how he might be better off embracing his new nature, rather than fighting it. Gregori thought back over the last few hours, when he had done essentially that. When he had simply accepted the visions, they had eventually faded away. Could he channel his psychic ability and use it on purpose, or would doing so burn him up even faster? There was only one way to find out.
He tuned in on the sound of Ciera’s voice still echoing over and over through his mind. Then he looked inward, into that place in his heart where she had taken hold, no matter how hard he had tried to resist. Perhaps it was time to stop fighting that as well.
As soon as he had the thought, the phoenix feather’s glow brightened and he felt a tugging sensation as if an invisible ribbon ran from his heart to the feather and then on out to someplace as yet unseen in the cold and unforgiving night.
“It looks like it’s working,” Bella said in a quiet voice. “Try turning it a different direction.”
Sun swung slowly to his left, and the light coming from the feather dimmed slightly. Turning in the opposite direction made it lessen even more. But when he faced back the way he had been standing, it lit up like a beacon.
“I have to go,” he said to Bella, and to her surprise, kissed her on the cheek. Then he nodded briskly at his father, said, “You are in good hands,” to Elisabeth, and ran around to the driver’s side of the car. The feeling of urgency grew even stronger as he gunned the motor and stuck the feather in one of the dashboard vents, where he could see it clearly without taking his eyes off the road.
His body still felt abnormally warm, but not uncomfortably so. Either way, it did not matter. He did not care what happened to him, as long as he found Ciera and she was safe. If his new abilities couldn’t accomplish that, they might as well burn him to a cinder.
• • •
DESPITE her best intentions, Ciera was dozing by the wall, curled up next to Julie Ann for warmth, when Victor and his goons returned. She wasn’t sure why he thought he’d need three big strong men with guns against her and a trio of skinny teenage girls, but then Victor had always been careful. It didn’t look like there was going to be any chance for the girls to use the self-defense moves they had worked on so hard. A pity. She would have liked to have kicked someone. Very, very hard.
The goons entered the room first, making sure it was secure before Victor entered. It was a good thing they hadn’t gone with Shannon’s suggested plan of hiding behind the door and hitting the first one in with a chair. Of course, given the muscles on these guys, one of the cheap plastic chairs probably wouldn’
t have made a dent.
Victor strolled in looking relaxed and in control, although his expression darkened when he realized that things hadn’t gone exactly according to his plan. Ciera’s stomach clenched reflexively. She knew that look well, and it had never boded well for her. Even when she had nothing at all to do with whatever the issue was, she’d usually been on the receiving end of his fury.
Then she took a deep breath and reminded herself that messing up his plan had been the whole point, and that no matter what happened, she was completely screwed. There was something almost freeing about the thought. Something tugged at her heart—regret, maybe, for what had never been. At least she and Gregori had had that one night together, during which she had experienced a level of pleasure and sweetness she hadn’t even known could exist. Not even Victor could take that away from her. At least there had been Gregori.
“What the hell are you smiling at?” Victor said through clenched teeth. “Do you think there is something funny about this situation?”
Ciera laughed. She couldn’t help it. Even knowing she was probably going to die in the next few minutes, or be forced into a life she’d consider a living hell, she felt a wave of joy sweeping over her. “Ironic, maybe,” she said. “But not funny. I only just now realized that I’m madly in love. I never even thought I was capable of such a thing.”
Victor stared at her incredulously and then swung his fist at her face so hard, it probably would have knocked her unconscious if the blow had connected. As it was, even though she stepped back quickly, his ring grazed her cheek, hurting like a son of a bitch and opening a gash that bled crimson drops onto the floor.
“You’ve gone completely insane,” he said, glaring at her. He looked around the room, clearly not seeing what he was searching for. “Where the hell are the drugs I left for you and your little friends? Why aren’t you all high as kites?”
One of the thugs checked the tiny space until he found the wastebasket in the bathroom. “Here, boss,” he said, dropping it on the floor in front of Victor. “This what you’re looking for?”
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