Page 140 of Body and Soul

As she released me, her gaze shifted to Eli, who stood slightly behind me, his posture a study in barely contained nervous energy.

“And this must be Eli,” my mother said, her voice warm and welcoming. “I've heard so much about you, dear. Come here and let me get a good look at you.”

Eli stepped forward, his usual confidence seemingly diminished in the face of this unexpected maternal attention. My mother's eyes roved over him, taking in the vibrant tattoos adorning his arms, the piercing in his lips, and the shock of platinum hair twitching in the wind. “Well, you’re certainly…colorful.”

“Mother,” I growled quietly.

“What? He is.”

To his credit, Eli maintained his composure admirably. “It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Laskin,” Eli said, his voice steady despite his obvious nervousness. He extended his hand, which my mother ignored in favor of pulling him into a tight embrace.

“Oh, none of that 'Mrs. Laskin' business,” she chided gently as she released him. “You call me Annie, dear. We're family now.”

Eli smiled as she stepped back. “Okay.”

“Come on inside, boys,” Annie said, ushering us towards the house. “I've just pulled a batch of snickerdoodles out of the oven, and Tatty is finishing up lunch.”

As we entered the farmhouse, the rich aroma of baking spices and savory herbs enveloped us. The interior was a fascinating juxtaposition of rustic charm and modern amenities— exposed wooden beams and well-worn floorboards coexisting with state-of-the-art appliances and subtle security features that only a trained eye would notice.

The kitchen was a hive of activity. My mother bustled about, transferring freshly baked cookies onto a cooling rack. At the stove stood Tatiana Volkov—Tatty to family.

“Shepherd!” Tatty exclaimed, her accent still noticeable despite years in the States. She abandoned her post at the stove to embrace me, her grip firm and familiar. As she pulled back, her sharp green eyes focused on Eli, assessing him with the practiced gaze of someone accustomed to identifying threats and weaknesses. “And this must be the boy who's captured our Shepherd's heart.”

I felt Eli tense beside me, no doubt sensing the predatory undercurrent in Tatty's demeanor. To his credit, he met her gaze steadily, offering a small smile. “It's nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Tatty's lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. “Please, call me Tatty, darling. Ma’am makes me feel soold!”

A high-pitched squeal erupted from upstairs. Two small blurs of motion rushed down the stairs, a whirlwind of braidsand colorful dresses. Xander hobbled down after them in an exaggerated prowl, wearing an ugly Halloween mask.

The girls shrieked with a mixture of terror and delight as they fled from their pursuer.

I tensed instinctively as the girls burst into the kitchen, their eyes wide with excitement. As soon as they spotted me, however, their expressions shifted. Lettie skidded to a halt, throwing out an arm to stop Charlie from barreling into her. Both girls stared at me with a mixture of fear and wariness that made my chest tighten uncomfortably.

It wasn't their fault, of course. I'd only met them a handful of times, and I knew my imposing stature and serious demeanor could be intimidating, especially to children. Still, it stung to see them shrink away from me, pressing themselves against the far wall of the kitchen as if trying to make themselves invisible.

“Fi-fie-fo-fum! I smell the blood of…Oh, hey, Shepherd.” Xander pulled off the mask, grinning widely. “Wanna help me torture the naughty little brats who got into my makeup?”

I raised an eyebrow at Xander's theatrical display. “I think I'll pass on the child torture today, thanks.”

Xander pouted dramatically. “I guess I'll just have to eat them myself!” He lunged playfully at the girls, who shrieked and darted behind Tatty.

“There will be no torture today,” Warrick said, stepping into the doorway. “Girls, you know the rules. No horseplay in the kitchen.”

“Or else you’ll fall into the oven and I like my children raw and wiggling.” Xander let out an exaggerated cackle.

“Stay away from my sister!” Lettie kicked out a foot and caught poor Xander right between the legs.

Xander's eyes bulged comically as he crumpled to the floor, hands cupped protectively over his groin. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he wheezed. “Little hellion's got one hell of a kick.”

I couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped me. Poor bastard. I'd been on the receiving end of a few well-placed kicks in my time, and it was never pleasant. Still, there was something deeply satisfying about seeing my brother taken down a peg by a pint-sized terror in pigtails.

“No cussing in the kitchen,” Mom chided in Russian, waving everyone off. “It makes the food sour.”

Warrick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Lettie, what have we told you about using your karate skills on real people?”

“Only do it if they're trying to hurt you or Daddy or Charlie,” Lettie recited dutifully, though her defiant glare suggested she felt entirely justified in her actions.

“And was Xander actually trying to hurt you?” Warrick pressed.

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