Page 95 of Samhain

She sighed and rubbed her tiny hands over her face.

“You’re not alone,” I said, trying not to overwhelm her. “We’re special. No one else on earth is like us. At least, not that I know of.”

“Which is why you need to keep it to yourself,” Lex said. “My family, they’re good people. They’ll look after you. But they don’t know about this.”

“No one knows,” I said.

“Okay,” she said, exasperated. “I already pinky swore.”

I snorted and wrapped my arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer to me, relishing the connection for as long as I had it left.

We stepped off the plane to a bitterly cold wind that pierced my wool jacket, flurries of snow floating in the air. Even in the middle of November, it was a true Russian winter morning. An older gentleman wearing a calf-length peacoat greeted us from in front of a limo. Two men flanked him on either side, their hands linked together in front of them. Another person stood immediately to his right, holding up an umbrella. Everything about him gave off a don’t-fuck-with-me vibe, and I wondered if he was mob or government.

Would it have made a difference?

Lex warned me his uncle Dmitri was a brutal man, but loyal. Dmitri was his mother’s brother, and blood meant everything in Russia. It had saved them after the fall of the Empire, and it had shuttled Lex’s great-great-grandmother, Anastasia, and her little brother out of the country before they could be executed with the rest of their family. They’d risen up a few years later and taken back their birthright, reinstating a parliament with an honorific monarchy, kind of like England.

But Russia had always been more open about its corruption, and even if the Stuarts were no better than the Romanovs, the British royal family had shoved their heads in the sand about that bad PR ages ago. It didn’t matter if Uncle Dmitri ran the mob or the royal household. They likely were one and the same here in the Motherland.

“Alexeeeiiii,” Dmitri called, holding out his arms to either side. He looked exactly how one might imagine for a Russian mobster—thick gold chains hanging from his neck, big matching rings on his tattooed fingers, a tailored suit, and unblemished loafers. Eastern European aristocracy at its finest.

“Djadja,” Lex said, embracing his uncle in a tight hug.

They spoke to each other in boisterous tones I didn’t understand, undercut with laughs and claps on the shoulder. Dmitri pointed to me and Poppy.

“My friend, Carter,” Lex said. “Like a brother to me. And his…niece, Poppy.”

“Niece?” Dmitri said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Lex said. “Niece.”

Dmitri nodded, understanding dawning on him. “This is the one?”

“This is the one,” Lex agreed.

I held Poppy’s hand tighter, and she ducked behind my leg when Dmitri squatted to get a better look at her.

“She’s skinny,” Dmitri said. “She won’t last the winter.”

“Guess Tjotja will have to fatten her up, huh?” Lex teased, shooting a wink in our direction.

“You know she will,” Dmitri said. “I can’t get that woman out of the kitchen. She was born with flour on her nose.” He muttered something to himself in Russian that made everyone else laugh. One of the guards opened the door to the limo, and Dmitri ducked to climb inside. Lex looked back at us and nodded, gesturing for us to get in with him.

Poppy sat tucked into my side, clutching a stuffed animal bear Miri had purchased for her in Dublin. Lex and Dmitri talked to each other in Russian, and based on the names Lex threw out, I assumed they were catching up on family.

“You okay?” I asked Poppy, tugging on her jacket to grab her attention.

She nodded, eyes glued to the white scenery outside. Winter was well on its way in Moscow, and the farther we got out of the city, the more barren the landscape became. I, too, found myself fascinated by the sights. I’d never been here before.

After about an hour, the car finally stopped in front of a huge log cabin estate with a maroon slate roof. It sat tucked into the woods, like it was always meant to be a part of nature, like you could blink and miss it if you drove past it on the highway. The bodyguard opened the door for us and an older woman wearing an apron barreled out of the house with her arms spread wide.

“Alexei, malysh,” she said. “Come here. Come here.”

Lex embraced his aunt and introduced us. Once Vera’s eyes landed on Poppy, the anxious tension in my gut lifted. She had a glowing warm aura that gave off “momma bear” vibes. Nothing would come for her den of cubs while Vera stood watch. She muttered something in Russian before switching to English.

“Look at you.” She put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. “Do you like lemon bars?”

Poppy shrugged.

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