Page 127 of White Wolf

“Did you – are you,” Philippe spluttered. “What the hell were you thinking? You could have awoken him!”

“No,” Sasha said calmly. “I wasn’t going to. I just wanted to look at him.”

“I ordered you not to!”

The wolves were still growling, not threatening yet, but warning. Siding with their alpha.

Sasha said, “You’re not my master. I don’t have to take orders.”

The mage made an enraged sound, pushed beyond words. In the glow of the fire he held, he was turning a mottled red. “You – you – you fucking brat! Imadeyou! By God, I can unmake you, too.”

The alpha female’s growl changed, openly hostile now.

Sasha said, “I’d like to see you try.”

Philippe opened his mouth to speak –

And Nikita arrived, pushing past the wolves, taking a tight grip on Philippe’s arm. “What’s going on?” he snapped, all Cheka authority and coldness.

Pack, Sasha thought, and the wolves accepted Nikita’s presence, calmed under it. He himself felt calmer. He had no master, no, but he would bend to the wisdom and authority of his friend.

Philippe stared at Nikita a long moment, fire burning in his palms, and then the flame winked out and he sagged visibly, looking like nothing but a tired old man.

“Why are you screaming at him?” Nikita asked, and Sasha realized he wasn’t cold at all. No, he was angrier than Sasha had ever seen him. His captain’s mask was hanging on by a thread, and beneath, he was all violence.

Philippe’s own rage was barely suppressed. “I explained to him, at length, how important it was not to disturb the body until we were safely back in Stalingrad, and here he istouchingit.” He turned his vicious gaze back on Sasha. “Were youtryingto wake him?”

Nikita’s hand tightened on the old man’s arm, knuckles white with the effort. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“You can’t accidentally wake him,” Sasha said, a little thrill in his belly because, for once, he was the one with the information. “It takes blood. And a Latin incantation.”

Philippe’s face went gratifyingly blank. “How did you learn that? Did you–” His eyes widened. “Valerian.”

“He said for me to call him Val, like his friends do.”

Philippe bared his teeth. “That bastard–”

“Calm down, Monsieur Philippe,” Nikita said, and it was an order. He looked up at Sasha and rolled his eyes. “Cover thestaretsback up, Sasha,” he said, courteous, soft, “and come down here please before the old man has a stroke.”

“Here, Monsieur.” Katya appeared, Ivan’s vodka canteen in her hand. “Will you have a little of this? Come sit by me.” She towed him back to camp, but not before he threw one last murderous glance back at Sasha.

When they were gone, the wolves crowded around Nikita, licking his hands.

“Care to explain?” he asked Sasha, one brow ticking upward.

Sasha sighed. “Yeah. Just a minute.” He draped the linen back over Rasputin’s face, shut and locked the footlocker. In truth he was glad to hop down out of the truck and get away from the awful, invasive scent of the not-dead holy man, but he wasn’t going to be badgered around by Monsieur Philippe.

He landed lightly next to Nikita, the wolves nosing and snuffling him in greeting.

“So,” Nikita said mildly, “found your backbone?”

Sasha frowned at him.

“Oh, come on. You’ve gone along with everything he’s said. You let himstab you through the heart.” The narrow scar across his chest throbbed as if responding to the words, a little painful reminder. “Why the insubordination now?” Nikita wanted to know.

Sasha dropped his voice to a whisper. “Because I can’t stand the smell of him.” He waved toward the truck. “There’s somethingwrongwith him.”

Nikita didn’t react the way Philippe had. “Of course there is,” he said. “He’s a sex maniac, and a khlyst, and he turned an entire country against its emperor. There’s a lot that’s wrong with him, the least of which is the fact that he’s a vampire. In fact, the vampire bit is the thing that makes the most sense, if you ask me.”

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