Page 323 of Dragon Slayer

“What are we speaking now?”

“Russian. You are Russian, Kolya. We are in Volgograd.” A pause. “You would have known it in your time as Stalingrad.”

Stalingrad. Drone of Luftwaffe. Thunder of bombs. Screams. Rubble. Blood. A lab; a steel table. A boy, howling. Fingers digging into muscle, pushing back.Let go of me, let go! They’re killing him! Sasha!

He blinked and he was on the floor, crouched low like an animal, his head in his hands.

Liam crouched down in front of him. “What did you remember?”

“Who’s Sasha?” he croaked.

“One of your friends from before. One of the ones who is still alive. You’ll get to meet him soon.”

He hadn’t met Sasha yet, but he remembered him now. Him and Nikita. Liam said they were the only survivors, that they lived together in New York.

Are they…?Kolya wondered, because the more distinct they became in his mind – Sasha’s platinum hair brushing his shoulders, blue eyes scrunched up as he laughed; Nik’s icy façade thawing just a little, too pale, and too shaky, and never enough to eat, but always a ghost of a smile for that boy – the more obvious it became that they’d loved one another. Did they still? Liam had said this age was different, that people could–

The chair across from him pulled back, drawn by an elegant hand, and the blond vampire prince slipped into it.

Kolya tensed, hands slipping beneath his jacket, seeking knives. He knew enough about before, now, to know that this was an instinct honed through years of violence. He knew he’d done terrible things, once, just because someone told him to; and that he was capable of doing them still.

The prince seemed unbothered by this. He held his own cup of steaming coffee in his free hand, and waved with the other.Sit down, sit down, the gesture said. His hair was braided, a thick golden rope draped over one shoulder of his motorcycle jacket.

Based on what he’d learned of this age, people didn’t just look like the prince. He was more like something out of a storybook, and if the way the female employees gawked at him was anything to go by, it was a much-appreciated look at that.

“Good morning,” the prince – Val, his name was Val – said, smiling wide enough to flash his too-sharp canines.

Kolya had a flash of memory: a bearded face, rancid breath, dramatic weeping and the smell of spilt wine. He suppressed a shudder.

Val, seemingly unbothered by the lack of response, turned sideways in his chair and crossed one long leg over the other. His gaze wandered out across the mostly empty dining room, following the progress of the staff as they moved to the kitchen and back, toting condiments and silverware.

“I haven’t discussed this in any detail with our wolf friends, yet,” he said, “but I should very much like to head north from here.”

Kolya’s heart thumped. Sometimes, stuck in the vacuum of his own missing memories, he thought he might not have come back…right. That there were larger pieces missing: emotions, and responses, and empathy. But here he was,feeling. Hoping.

“New York?” he guessed.

The prince lifted his brows and turned a surprised little smile on him. “Why, yes, how did you know?”

“You said I could see them again. Nik and Sasha.”

“And so you shall.” His smile slipped, and he turned his upper body around so he could brace his elbows on the table. Set his coffee cup down with a sigh. “Actually, that’s why I’m here. I felt the need to…warn you.”

More feeling. Ice in his belly, pins and needles in his lungs. “About what?” His voice had gained strength in the months since his rebirth, no longer a sound like barbed wire tangling over itself; but it creaked now; his throat ached.

“It’s alright,” Val soothed. “It’s only – well, I think that your friends might be doubtful. At first. That you really are you.”

“Oh.” The breath left his lungs in a rush; he deflated.

“Nikita is, if you can remember, doubtful by nature. And he is wildly protective of his little family. He’ll come around, I’m sure. But I wanted you to be prepared.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Val tipped his head, smile searching now. “Are you alright?”

“What do you mean?”

Soft, sad. Kolya knew what those things looked like, even if he couldn’t put his hands on them and claim them as his own. “Nevermind.” Gentle. “You’ll figure that out along the way. You’re with us, now.” He laid his hand on the table, near to Kolya’s, but not touching. “You’re safe.”

Safe. A word that held no meaning – not now…and not even in his piecemeal memories.

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