Page 84 of White Wolf
His eyes came back, intense enough to make Nikita want to shrink down into his coat collar. “When the knife was inside me, when – whenthe wolfcame in – something happened. I could sense…others.”
“Other wolves?”
“Some. And maybe something else. Something stronger. It was like I was just me, and then suddenly I was a part of something bigger. Like I got…stitched into a quilt.” He sighed. “I’m not saying it right.”
“No, you’re saying it fine. I think I know what you mean.”
“You believe me, then?” He sounded hopeful.
“Yes.”
He smiled. “Do you believe me when I say we’re going to win the war?”
How different he was from the shaking boy who’d boarded the train in Tomsk. How confident. It was contagious. “I want to.”
“Good. You should.”
~*~
Sleep, Monsieur Philippe had suggested. While they had a roof over their heads, and some residual warmth from the fire, and wolves to keep watch.
Wolves.
Werewolves.
Vampires.
She couldn’t have slept if she’d wanted to. Even if she tipped back all of Ivan’s vodka.
She couldn’t process it all. She’d known something about Sasha wasn’t…normal…but to hear it spoken about so plainly. The impossible. As if it were as normal as tea and dirty laundry, and the mud beneath their feet. It astounded her.
The men snored around her in their bedrolls, dog-tired and dead to the world. In the dim light of the dying fire, she could make out their distinct shapes, all of them a safe distance. One of the wolves slept up near her head, half-curled around her without touching. She could smell its musky, woodsy scent every time she inhaled.
At another time, it would have terrified her, a hulking wild animal blowing gently against her face as it snored. But now, amid all the other crazy, she found it comforting.
After a long quiet stretch, in which her mind refused to relax and accept the things she’d learned, she heard the cottage door creak open and then close again. Careful footsteps across the boards. Knew it was Nikita by the sound of his breathing as he lay down behind her, just far enough not to touch, but close because the narrow walls demanded it.
She listened to the sound of his clothes rustling, little pops and groans as the floor settled. Finally, he let out a deep breath and was still.
The wolf at her head stood up, circled a few times, and flopped back down with a sigh that gusted warm carrion breath against her face.
Ivan snored. A log crumbled to ashes on the grate with a quiet little gust.
She startled hard when Nikita spoke.
“It gets easier to believe the longer you think about it.”
When her heartbeat had settled enough not to give her away, she rolled over to face him, wearing what she hoped was an indifferent expression. Moonlight fell in through the window above him, just enough to see the gleam of his eyes, and the shape of his mouth.
He smiled and she guessed she was more transparent than she thought. “Are you frightened?” he asked.
“Well.” Her mouth felt dry, cottony. She tried to wet her lips but it didn’t do much good. “It wasn’t a vampire or a werewolf that gutted my father. Raped my sister. Burned down my house.”Raped me, she didn’t say.
Anger darkened his face. “No. I guess they didn’t.”
Something about being close to him, about seeing the way his jaw tensed, made her feel less frightened. Less alone. A dangerous sensation, one she doubtless couldn’t trust.
“I think it’s hard to believe,” she whispered, “because it seems too easy. After everything.”
