Page 18 of In Love With the Leshy

He giggles. It sounds deep but not thunderous like his hearty laughter. “Then I lure them into the forest. Once they are here, I hold them accountable for their sins.”

A wave of fear alerts the hairs on the back of my neck. “You kill them?”

“Of course not!” He dismisses my concern with a swipe of his hand in the air. “Most of the time, I lead them in the wrong direction. Move landmarks so they don’t know which way they came from.”

“That’s not very nice.” I set my muffin down on the rock slab.

“Is it nice to poach?” His voice loses all playfulness. “To steal what others have worked for? To discount the labor of raising animals to be used as a source of nourishment just because someone thinks it’s funny to tip a cow? The people I look after aren’t the rich and elite. They work hard for what they have. I make sure no one swindles or takes advantage of them.”

“As long as they bribe you with treats?”

“I look out for them, protect them, fight for them no matter what!” He yells. Yep, this time I insulted him. “They leave me things because they appreciate the life I afford them.”

Before I have a chance to apologize, Em leaves the table and stomps toward the large opening he uses as a front door. “Stay here,” he orders. I’m not sure if he means at the table or in the cave. “I’ll collect Masha.”

I open my mouth to say something but don’t have a chance for a word to form. In a heartbeat, he’s gone.

*

Sitting on the bed, I stare at the entrance. I have no way to tell time; I lost my phone when I was running for my life through the forest. I don’t see a clock or a sundial lying around here. Not that I’d know how to use the antiquated time measurer even if I did. I’d have better luck using an hourglass.

Knowing the time of day wouldn’t help me anyway. I don’t know how long Em’s been gone, and I have no idea when to expect Him to return. Or what his mood will be like. I play with the thought of leaving and searching for Masha myself. That didn’t work in my favor the first time I did it, though, so why should I think it would be different now?

I tell myself I shouldn’t be sitting here anxious for his return since he overreacted and took off in anger. Em is acting like a jerk. Like a petulant child who didn’t get his way. I should have expected as much; after all, he’s a strange creature I know nothing about. I wonder if my initial reaction to learning what he was played a part in it.

I could’ve handled the situation better. All of it. I didn’t have to act like a jerk when he shared something meaningful with me. I didn’t have to sound like I was judging him. Who am I kidding? I did judge him.

“Erin?” The sound of a woman’s voice startles me.

I gasp, and my hand clutches my chest to keep my thundering heart in place.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She steps further into the cozy quarters, and I get my first real look at her. She’s human. I can tell by her blue eyes and pale skin. Her long blonde hair is pulled together in a braid resting over her left shoulder. In her hands, she carries a bundle tied with vines. Part of me wonders if Em can shift fully into a human with no trace of his leaf-clad hair or beard, the way he did when he was a bear. Assuming he isn’t lying about that.

“Em asked me to come here. He said you’re looking for me? That you know . . .” she closes her eyes and squeezes the lids tight. “I’m sorry,” she sniffles. “That you knew my babushka?”

“Irina?” I ask to be sure, but I don’t need her to answer. It’s as if Irina’s blue eyes stare back at me.

Masha offers a sad smile and nods her head.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” The reserved woman nods and allows tears to stream from her eyes. “She loved you very much.” I approach the elusive Masha and wrap my arms around her. Offering her comfort feels like the right thing to do. Once she calms, I let go and take a step back.

“I worried she’d never find anyone to send to me and that my brother, Nikolai, would steal everything we had.”

“Nikolai is your brother?”

Part of me is angry, no, incensed with Masha for leaving Irina to deal with that maniac on her own. She should know what he’s capable of. It seems she’s no better than her brother, only worrying about the family inheritance. I have second thoughts about making the effort to give her the funny-looking stress ball/pincushion.

“Come.” She takes a few steps toward the entrance.

“Em told me not to move.”

“Have you not been pacing? Moving from one end to the other while waiting for him?”

I don’t answer.

“Exactly.” She turns and takes another step as if she believes proving her point will convince me to trust her.

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