Page 23 of Cry of the Firebird

God, I need a drink.When she was finally clean and dry, she went to the bar.

The men in the room stared at her, but Anya had been graced with plenty of disapproving glances in the past. She ignored them and sat down at the bar.

"Vodka," Anya said to the barman.

"I don't think your husband—" he began.

"What my husband thinks is no concern of yours," Anya said sharply. "Vodka."

With a shrug, the barman handed her a large cup and left her be. The vodka was almost as strong as the stuff she brewed herself, and the warm mist soon began to roll in. It calmed the incessant tingling under her skin that she had felt since coming into Skazki, and it was like she could breathe again.

It didn't take long for a man with a bushy beard to sit beside her.No matter what world you're in, men are still the same.

"What makes you think you can drink in this place, woman?"

"Because there's nowhere else," Anya said calmly. She gave the barman a meaningful look, and he refilled her drink without an argument.

"It's going to be cold tonight," the drunk mused. "How about I keep you warm?" He reached out a grubby hand to touch her shoulder. Anya grabbed it and crushed his fingers tightly.

"Back the fuck off," Anya snapped. Heat rushed through her hand, and the drunk yelped in surprise, pulling away from her. He flexed his fingers and stared at her, wide-eyed. Bright burns marked them where she had grabbed him.

Did she do that? Anya gaped at her hands. What the hell was happening to her?

"Witch," the drunk hissed, making another clumsy grab for her.

Anya aimed a kick between his legs, and her boot caught the edge of the seat instead, unbalancing the man and sending him backward with a crash. A roar of laughter rose from the other drinkers, and the man, red-faced and angry, struggled to his feet.

"You're going to regret that," he spat, raising a hand to hit her.

Someone grabbed his arm from behind, and as he turned, Yvan punched him hard in the face.

"You don't hit women, especially not mine," Yvan said coldly as the man slumped to the floor, blood pouring out of his mouth and staining the floor red.

The bar was silent as Yvan grabbed Anya around her waist to steady her, picked up her bag, and walked her back to their room.

"Yvan…I… I think I burned him," she mumbled, and he helped her sit down at the end of the bed. She leaned down and made a feeble attempt to pull her boots off.

"Whatever you think you did to him was nothing compared to the damage he could've done to you. You could've been hurt, Anya. Why don't you ever think?" he said, untying her boots.

Anya scowled. "He started it."

"Doesn't matter. You can't draw attention to yourself in these places. The people that live here are only mortal and are subject to the will of the Powers. Do you want Vasilli to find you? He'll hear whispers of the two strangers who came to town and caused trouble when he comes after us." Yvan clenched his hands into fists, and Anya placed her hand over them.

"I'm sorry, Yvan. I was upset, and I wanted a drink and…"

"I know. Maybe try and rest for a while." Yvan moved his hand from under hers and leaned back into his chair. "I know with all of the confusion of my hatching and Vasilli turning up, I haven't made the best impression. But I promise I will protect you, Anya, until this is all over. No matter what."

"Thank you, Yvan," she whispered because she finally believed him.

Anya curled onto her side and fought the urge to cry. She was in a whole new world without knowing how to navigate it. Without Yvan, she would have probably been eaten in the forest by wild animals or by Baba Yaga. How would she ever learn her magic when she couldn't even look after herself?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

An hour later, her mind refused to rest even though her body was aching from exhaustion. Yvan sat on the chair near the fire and was dozing, so she went through her bag and took out one of Eikki's journals.

Like the others Anya had looked through, it was filled with scraps of paper, strange symbols, and tiny pictograms. There were sketches and occasional paragraphs in his tight, neat handwriting. Not every page was dated, but one, in particular, caught her eye. It had been her thirteenth birthday.

Today would have beenthe first day of Anya's initiation. It is hard not to start her training. She is already so talented, but she is already too much like Yanka. She has had darkness in her since her parents’ death, and I worry that nothing will temper her if she learns her power. If I knew how strong Anya would grow, it would be different, but Zosi looked into her future, and she saw blood, fear, and power. She warned me that if darkness filled her, there was no way that she could be the woman from the prophecy. I told her what happened today, and she said I couldn't waste more time. I know taking the memories from heris the right thing to do to stop the worst from happening. I love her too much to lose her now.

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