Compelled

by Shawntelle Madison

  “He plays the cymbals for us,” Dmitri said.

  While we waited, Dmitri opened his case to reveal a beautiful fiddle. The fine instrument smelled of old wood and varnish. He’d cared for the fiddle a lot more than his appearance. With a flourish, he picked up his instrument, began plucking at the strings, and sang the opening line to Korobushka:

  Hey, my carrier box is brimful, there’s calico, print, and brocade.

  Have mercy, my dear, with my juvenile shoulders!

  It had been a few years since I’d heard the Peddler’s Box song.

  The others laughed and clapped, a few opening their respective cases. The atmosphere was hard to resist. I began to sing with them. How long had it been since I’d heard a live band playing Russian folk music? A crowd of bystanders strolling through the park stopped to watch the band. The short tuba player belted out the lively tune. Andelov played the accordion, while Yuri strummed the balalaika, a Russian guitar with a triangular body. Dmitri continued to play his fiddle.

  Ever the showman, he even flipped it backwards in the middle of playing and kept going. The bow danced in his hands, and the growing crowd roared.

  Tyler stomped his foot at my side, his head bobbing to the tune.

  Naturally, right as they began playing the song for a second time, much to the bystanders’ dismay, a grumbling tour bus pulled up to the street nearby.

  Yuri continued to strum the balalaika and Dmitri played while dancing a jig, even as the others stopped and gathered their belongings.

  Was there some kind of band member rivalry going on? While the others loaded up the bus, Tyler and I gaped at the two until Old Papa gestured for us to get on. “Those two idiots will play until we start to leave,” he said in accented English.

  “Why?” Tyler asked.

  “I don’t know.” Old Papa shook his head. “They once played until Dmitri hurt his hands. Stupid idiots.”

  Tyler and I found empty seats in the middle of the bus.

  As expected, the bus was loaded, still spewing black exhaust, and began to pull away as Dmitri and Yuri gave up their battle. They grabbed their instruments and cases, racing each other to reach the bus first.

  “Wow, you weren’t kidding,” I said to Old Papa.

  The elderly werewolf gave a short laugh. “I once told the driver to leave them and let them hitchhike. I was ignored, and you see what happens? Little boys who need their asses beaten.”

  The two found seats. Dmitri in front and Yuri in the back. They were breathless and glared at each other.

  The ride north was a cramped one on lumpy seats with the stuffing poking out in places, but the mood was jovial. I expected sleeping and snoring werewolves, but the band had apparently shaken off the effects of their drunken night. Dmitri broke out another song at the front of the bus.

  As much as I wanted forever,

  my sweetheart ran away for another.

  Would she come to me next full moon?

  I beg you sweet princess.

  She wouldn’t come to me, for she’d found another.

  “Ho ho ho, Anna!” another sang.

  She had the fairest coat. As bright as sunshine, he continued.

  Old Papa handed me the cymbals and I tapped them with the tune.

  They continued on with the verse again.

  I beg you sweet princess.

  She wouldn’t come to me, for she’d found another.

  “Ho ho ho, Natalya!”

  I laughed when I heard my name.

  The band kept playing like that until apparently they ran out of women’s names. Maybe past girlfriends.

  Two hours passed like that with the band playing and joking. All the while, the city-like scenery changed. City streets became the countryside with fields and roads surrounded by forest. Traveling by bus was much more pleasant compared to the train trip with Tyler and Raj. Speaking of Tyler, my friend slept in the seat in front of mine, his head leaning on the dirty window.

  I stared out the window again. I wondered what Grandma would think of seeing Russia like this. I wished I could’ve taken her with me. She never mentioned why she wouldn’t return to her homeland. Once she said something light-hearted like it cost her everything she had to come to America; why would she go back? But, this was her birthplace, the land where she’d buried Grandpa. Even some of our relatives still lived here. Was there something she had left behind that I didn’t know about? Grandma was full of secrets. Many of them hadn’t been revealed until she’d used old magic to save me.

  Now that I was taking my own destiny into my hands, fear gripped me. Suppressing it had been easy every once in a while, but now, as I watched the miles between me and my destination decrease, apprehension tried to sneak in.

  A wrinkled hand reached out and took mine. “You’ll be fine, devuska,” he said softly. “You’re a good girl.”

  “Thank you, Old Papa.” I returned the grip. His hand was warm and soft like Grandma’s. I wondered if my grandpa Pyotr had been like him. Had he looked like my mom or my aunts? Grandma didn’t have any pictures of him, which, in many ways, was a disappointment. Like a piece of my past had been denied to me. Of course, that didn’t stop Grandma from saying he was a handsome man. “He had the most beautiful blue eyes, Natalya. Most of the females tried to get a piece of him, even after we were married. I had to slap around a few girls who got too close.”

  When she said that, Grandma had that flicker of mischief in her brown eyes she always had.

  As I drifted in my memories, the bus came to a shaky stop.

  “About time we got here,” Dmitri said with a groan. “I need to piss for a day.”

  “You need to stop drinking then,” Andelov said after him.

  “Like you can stop talking!” Dmitri retorted.

  I shook Tyler’s shoulder. “We reached Vyborg.”

  He stretched his long arms. “How much farther until we reach the farm?”

  I made a face while I pondered that question. “If we found a ride, we might reach Tamara’s before nightfall.”

  “Do you want to wait and watch their gig?”

  I snorted. “I’ve heard enough music to last me a few years.”

  He nodded. “Let’s get something to eat and then see what kind of ride we can get.”

  We got off the bus. The city wasn’t as big and sprawling as St. Petersburg, but Vyborg felt as big as South Toms River. But there were so many differences compared to back home. The pine trees along the roads felt like home, but everything else was so different. All stone, gray buildings were everywhere. A touch of the old world. The cars and the architecture made the place completely new and different.

  “Are you coming with us to eat?” Dmitri called out.

  “Of course.” Tyler followed Dmitri into the stone building with double doors while I tried to wear a brave face. My past history with unknown restaurants had never been a good one. America was a totally different place in terms of rules of cleanliness and serving. Not that I was saying my Russian kin would serve me food in a slovenly place with dirt lining the seats, but what I considered clean was at a different level compared to everyone else. And damn it all to hell. I’d made a conscious decision to leave my baby wipes at home.

  The minute I walked through the doors, wonderful smells hit me. Fresh baked bread and grilled meat. I could practically predict the menu before it was even placed in front of us. Chicken tabaka, seasoned to perfection. Home cooked Russian dishes for a hungry appetite. A nearby customer, a werewolf, had fresh cabbage stuffed with ground beef. Tasty golubtzy. Matter of fact, there were a lot of us in here, which was probably why the band chose this place.

  A hostess sat all of us at a few tables shoved together. The boisterous group filled the entire dining room. What few customers they had greeted us with smiles and inquiries about where the band would be playing tonight.

  Glancing at Yuri, I had no idea my cousin had such potential.

  The food was divine. Tyler practically wiped his plate clean
with his bread as I ate my fill. All the while, my friend joked with the one man who knew enough English to carry on a conversation, Old Papa.

  “How will you two reach your destination?” Old Papa asked him.

  “We’ll find someone to give us a ride,” he replied. “Who knows? In a town like this, maybe there are some workers or truckers who can offer a hand.”

  Old Papa nodded. “You should be careful, though. I noticed someone was following you.”

  Tyler froze in the middle of wiping his mouth. “Following us, what do you mean?”

  “We’ve made two stops on the way here. Both times, I caught a strange scent. It was something I’d never encountered before. But I did smell it again when we stopped for gas. It was strange.”

  “Like what?” I leaned forward, my heartbeat up a bit. Had I been found?

  “Could it be Raj?” Tyler asked me.

  “Why would he follow us? Didn’t he have to return home?” I said.

  “Pretty much.” He turned to Old Papa. “Do you think it was a werewolf?”

  “No. I’m not that old, boy. I can sniff out my own kind easy enough. Whatever this was, it was something even I haven’t smelled before.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe one of the other band members has a fan or something.”

  The old man shrugged. “I doubt it.”

  I stole a glance at Tyler. My first thought had been werewolf, too. Maybe Thorn or one of my relatives. But a nonwerewolf led me to believe otherwise. Something was going down and I couldn’t run away from it.

  Chapter 9

  We managed to get a ride with a farmer who had hauled his goods to Vyborg and was now returning home. He had a cheerful demeanor, albeit a stuttering potty mouth was included.

  “T-that damn son of mine better have done his chores,” he grumbled. His remarks about his offspring continued for most of the trip. I managed to learn the boy wanted to be a good-for-nothing pop singer and he couldn’t hold a tune even if he played a mime, a rather bitter insult.

  Tyler covered his ears the entire way. We rode in the back of the man’s truck, huddling close to avoid the chilly breeze from the bay as we rode up A124 road. Soon enough, the forest blocked most of the wind, but not enough for us to feel the frosty sensation deep in our bones.

  Tyler turned to me. “What will you say to Tamara?”

  “You mean what will I say other than please help me learn how to remove Thorn’s curse?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m being serious. You traveled all this way. Do you have a plan for when you meet her? The last time you met wasn’t a pleasant memory, I’m sure.”

  The last time we’d met had been when I was fulfilling my father’s moon debt to a werewolf named Roscoe. The guy was an asshole, a dead one mostly likely after the fairy child he trapped got a hold of him, thanks to me. I was forced to haul that fairy in a truck up to Maine. Once there, I met the pack leader and Tamara. There was a fight at the time between the fairies and werewolves. Tamara had cast some pretty dark magic that day, showing that she had my grandmother’s powers of transformation.

  “I guess I could say, ‘Hi! I’d like to help you figure things out,” I managed.

  “You didn’t think this through did you?” He sighed.

  “I got it covered. Really.”

  I didn’t have shit covered. This whole trip should’ve been better planned. I was the queen, the overlord, you name it, of planning to reduce my anxiety. But when it came to saving Thorn, I was willing to toss most of that planning aside. Damn! Love made folks do stupid stuff.

  But it was worth it, I guess.

  “Look, if you’re not sure what to say, I got an idea or two,” Tyler said.

  “Like what?”

  “Just let the professional do his thing.”

  “Tyler, you’re a model. Do what thing?”

  We reached a fork in the road and the farmer came to a stop. He pointed down the road with a smile. “Go that way about two miles, and you’ll find what you’re looking for at the top of a small hill.”

  I thanked him. Now it was time to get things over with. The walk didn’t take that long. The road was still pretty wide, even though many of the dirt paths had gaping potholes. Tyler jumped over a few.

  “This place is so quiet,” he remarked.

  “Do you want to raise a family in the city or in the country like this?”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me. I just want to find someone who will make me want to live anywhere.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.”

  Just like the man said, the house at the end of the road sat at the top of a small hill and couldn’t be missed. Forests hugged an open meadow on all sides. The chilly wind whistled through the trees and whipped a clothesline of underwear through the air. Women’s underwear. The two-story house had been kept up with dark grey shingles and a bright red door. A haphazard fence was the only thing in disrepair about the place. The dark wood was rotted in many places. A single power line extended from the road and raced up to the house. The only line for communication and power.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “Stop asking and let’s do it.”

  We walked up to the house. I was glad the wind was to my back. That way, I wasn’t sneaking up, and whoever was inside could smell and see me coming. Werewolves didn’t like folks sneaking up on them.

  The door opened a crack as Tyler and I approached. From downwind, I couldn’t smell who opened the door, but I hoped it was a werewolf and not some witch popping out who liked to eat little boys and girls. As much as I wanted to learn a spell or two from a werewolf, learning something from a spellcaster who was actually a witch wasn’t welcomed.

  The door opened and two sets of eyes peeked out. I grabbed Tyler’s arm by the time we reached the circular courtyard in front of the house.

  “Wait. Let them check us out,” I whispered.

  The wind shifted behind us and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. “Who are you?” A voice hissed to our backs.

  The muscles in Tyler’s arm stiffened. My grip on him tightened. Now wasn’t the time to whip out his Axe in a Box. Not yet, anyway.

  The scent behind us was wolf though.

  “I’m Natalya Stravinsky,” I said in Russian. “I’m here to see Tamara.”

  “Only people in America know me by that name.” The voice circled us until a familiar face stepped in front of us. Tamara hadn’t changed since the last time I saw her. She was a short, full-figured woman with thick brown hair, but it was the birthmark on her face that assured me I had the right person. The rose-colored birthmark filled most of her left cheek. “I’ve seen you before.”

  “You have,” I said in English. I might as well keep the rest of the conversation out in the open.

  She shifted and glanced at Tyler. “And the dwarf?” she asked in English.

  “My friend,” I replied. “He wanted to make sure I got here safely.”

  “You always seem to have friends...around you.” She glanced toward the woods nearby. “Is the wizard here, too?”

  She meant Nick.

  “No, he didn’t come with me. Only Tyler.”

  She kissed her fingertips, mumbled a few words I couldn’t hear, and raised the fingers to the wind and waited. “You speak the truth. Now the next question. Why would you do something so foolish as to come here and see me?”

  I took a deep breath. I refused to take my hand off Tyler’s arm. The guy was itching to speak, but for now, I needed to settle things. “I’ve heard some rumors from my grandmother, Svetlana Lasovskaya. You remember her, right?”

  Tamara’s eyebrow rose. “You are her granddaughter. Most interesting.”

  Hopefully interesting in a good way and not a bad way.

  “You told my grandmother about a spell to remove curses. I am here about that.”

  At the mention of curses, Tamara’s steady heartbeat rose.

  “I wanted to—” I began.

  “No more talking out
side. We’ll discuss your visit over tea.” She glanced at Tyler. “He does drink tea, doesn’t he?”

  I released his arm.

  “I most certainly do,” Tyler said, giving me a stern eye.

  We followed Tamara up the single step into the house. I expected to run into the double pairs of eyes, but the tiny living room was empty. Other than the bit of Russian culture here and there, it appeared like any other farmhouse with mismatched wooden furniture and little things here and there to make it a home. A wooden radio in the corner played classical music. The volume was turned down so low I barely heard it. Werewolves definitely lived here.

  “Zoya, bring some tea,” she said as she took a seat. “We have guests. Luda, bring some cookies. I know you baked some behind my back.”

  The two pairs of eyes appeared at the head of the stairs as we sat down. They belonged to a pair of fraternal black-haired twins. A shorter, full-figured one was dressed in a floral print dress, while a thinner, taller one wore a white T-shirt and jeans. They peered at us with curiosity.

  “Are they staying for dinner?” the one in the jeans asked. She pushed her chin-length hair behind her ears before she fetched a plate of cookies. That must be Luda, then.

  “I don’t know yet.” Tamara leaned back in the seat. She gestured to the other places for us. “It depends on what they have to say. Whether I like it or not.”

  As much as I came here bearing goodwill and all, I wasn’t a fool either. Tamara was a werewolf with spellcasting abilities. The only thing I could do was pretty useless in a battle against someone like her.

  “I’m not here to threaten anyone. The reason I came was because—”

  “You want to save the South Toms River Pack alpha.”

  I swallowed and tried to keep a straight face. “You know who I am.”

  She offered a slow smile. “Let’s drop the pretenses then, Dearie. We met under fascinating circumstances, didn’t we? I need fairy magic, you needed to save your father from his moon debt. I didn’t approve Roscoe’s method to bring me the fairy, but I needed the magic for my work. Everything was going so smoothly. Until you came and tricked all of us with the decoy in the truck.” She laughed as Zoya poured a tea service and handed each of us a drink.