Page 3 of Vasily the Nail

“May He be after me so that He may guard me, may He be above me, that He may bless me, who with God, the Father, and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns forever and ever.”

I’ve heard enough English prayers over the years, but it’s usually the same one ad nauseum,hallowed be thy nameand whatnot. I’ve heard it so many times I can recite it better than many of the men who have begged for God’s mercy at my feet. Half of them get the words wrong and have to start over several times. Some don’t even realize they’re wrong and plow through it, as irreverent in their death as they were in life.

Not me. I have prayers, strong ones in the Church Slavonic of my youth, but I know I’m going to Hell. I won’t be praying on my deathbed.

This girl, though. She’s devout. I doubt she even needs that prayer. I see the light in her eyes. I see she believes the words she’s saying. She’s not begging her God to look past her transgressions, she’s simply asking her God to keep her safe now if He deems it.

“Poor little lamb,” I murmur as I touch the pole she’s leaned away from to put distance between us. “God does not decide what happens here. Pray to me now.”

Her pupils quiver at that. The lavender darkens on her more frantic “May the Lord Jesus Christ be with me, that He may defend me.”

Someone clicks their tongue. I peer out off the stage to see Vlad wagging a shaky finger at me. “She won’t if you say it like that.”

I have to think about the colors. They seemed right, but the neon pink would have tinted them. Not purple, blue. Russian. “Ovechka,” I still say, unable to remember the actual English for a young sheep. “This no God house. This Vasily house.”

She inhales deeply and exhales slowly, stiffening her lips against the uneven rise and fall. “And you are Vasily.”

“Da.”

Vlad clicks again, but she knows what I mean. “Your house is a strip club.”

Cheeky. Is it bravery or bluffing, I’m not sure. “You know why here,ovechka?” I ask as I succumb to the urge to touch her chin, her throat, her collarbone.

She tries to look away from me as she shakes her head, but I keep that hold on her chin. I force her to look me in the eye as she says, “To hurt my brother?”

She’s lying. Oh, I have no doubt that this was what she was told, that it’s as simple as he is the hero and I am the villain and my only motivation is to hurt the hero. But I can see in the nearly magenta waves that she knows that’s not true. She knows her brother fucked up and this was how he chose to handle it. This was the negotiation he made with Artyom.

“Strange. Both tools of brothers,” I murmur, more to myself than to her, but I see a flicker of softness there. She’s young. Not a child, although I have a feeling her nineteen is a world away from what my barely tamed sister’s was. But there’s a sensitive nature about her. She doesn’t deserve this. She deserves to be loved by a gentle man who will earn her trust by respecting her.

Most of us in this world don’t get what we deserve, though. She’s not special.

“You know what I will do?”

She swallows. I can feel it against my palm, just as I can feel her ragged breath. It makes my skin tingle.

“On the woman pill? The birth control?”

That’s enough to make her deep brown eyes go liquid, what little shows of her irises behind her blown pupils reflecting in the tears welling in the rim. “I am,” she says voicelessly, her bravery of a moment ago squelched by the confirmation of what will happen here.

“Your brother say virgin. Did he lie?”

It’s not a trick question. Despite what Artyom has tasked me with today, I’m a man who respects women. I don’t care if she’s a virgin or not, but it is what will settle this debt.

Her lip quivers, and she tears her eyes away from me. “May He be within me, that He may lead me. May He be after me, so that He may guide me.”

“No, no,ovechka. God will no protect here. Only me. And if Tony lie, Tony punished. I protect you.”

I expect her to pull away as she lets out a single sob. Instead, she shifts so slightly that I doubt anyone else can see it. It’s only a change in heat, a change in the pressure of the hand I’ve lowered to fan across her collarbone.

She’s leaning into me.

Over her head, I narrow my sight on Tony. Vapors swirl around him in bloody red, evil leeching from his pores. When he asked for the loan last year, I advised against it, but Artyom overrode me. Now the debt is being settled with something none of us wants, least of all me. Pain only begets pain. There are no winners here.

“Your name,ovechka?”

“Lacey. Analiese, but everyone calls me Lacey.”

That word, that name, is a color that makes my eyes burn. “Is whore name. You are whore, Analiese?”

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