Page 298 of Dragon Slayer

Oh.

Fulk recalled the files Talbot had laid in front of him, the ones he’d tried to shove aside…but caught glimpses of anyway. Kolya Dyomin had favored knives and close combat. He’d been a ballet dancer…

“He kept your knives,” Fulk said quietly, and Kolya’s head snapped up. “Baskin. Your commander.”

The man’s bewildered gaze dropped to the blades again. “Nikita…Nik.” He sucked in a quick, sharp breath. “I called him Nik.” Slow at first, and then gaining speed as the memories tumbled in to fill the blank places in his mind. “We grew up together. Us and Dima…” A sideways, humorless smile tugged at his mouth. “Nik always liked him best, he was…and then he died…” He lifted a hand and wiped it down his face, pushed his long dark hair back. “Jesus. That asshole. He was totally in love with that kid, and he–” He caught himself, bit his lip. He looked up through his lashes. Voice thin and wavering: “They’re still alive? They…?”

Fulk took a deep breath. He didn’t want to feel sympathy, but it was unavoidable. This reincarnatedthing– thisman– was too pitiful to feel otherwise. “In 1942, you died in a field, along with most of your comrades. Rasputin and a mage named Philippe killed you all.”

The air left his lungs in a rush, mouth open and gaping afterward.

Fulk pressed on. “One among your company, Sasha, was a wolf, like me. He killed the mage and Rasputin. And he used Rasputin’s blood and heart to save your captain. The two of them still live, yes. They are immortals, as am I, and your Lord Price, and Vlad.”

“They’re…” His gaze darted, flicking over Fulk’s face, around the room. “Nik and Sasha, they’re okay?”

“Yes.”

He nodded, slow, and wet his lips again. “Good. That’s – that’s good. Do they know…?”

“About you? I would assume not.”

“But they’realive.”

“Very much so.”

His fingers, still long and slender – Fulk could envision them splayed artfully against a backdrop of stage lights, arms held aloft in some impossible ballet pose – but now crossed with faint, pale scars, moved over the blades. Familiarizing himself with them again. “I don’t…Liam, he’s the one who brought me back–”

“Kolya,” Fulk said, as gently as he could manage. Scent aside, the poor Russian made a heartbreaking picture, clutching knives like lifelines, memory and confusion warring for supremacy in an outwardly visible way. “Liam didn’t bring you back as a favor. You didn’t ask for it. You don’t owe him anything.”

He swallowed, throat moving. “My friends…” Too somber for hope, more like grief. But longing all the same.

“Would like to see you, I’d imagine.” They would be horrified, yes. And confused. But a man who walked willingly into this house with nothing but idiot children for backup was of the sort who’d like to know that a childhood friend was back from the dead.

Kolya pressed his hands flat over the hilts of the knives, and the faint tremors in his arms stilled. Soft, just a whisper: “I used to work for some really bad people.”

“Yes, you did.”

When he lifted his head this time, he seemed more deeply rooted in himself. More of the real him filling out the shell of his body. “I don’t want to do that anymore.”

Fulk opened his mouth to respond–

And Vlad stalked into the room. He never walked anywhere idly, but there was an extra level of intent to his stride now.

Kolya whipped around to face him, hands closing on the knives, white-knuckled.

Vlad shot him an unimpressed look before he turned to Fulk – and heeled the door shut behind him. “We need to talk.”

Anna returned and set a plate heaped with roast beef, vegetables, and gravy in front of Kolya. “Talk about what?” she asked, sliding back into her seat.

Vlad cut a speaking glance toward Kolya.

“Don’t worry,” Fulk said. “I think he’s about to jump ship.”

“Is he now?” The glance became a stare. To his credit, Kolya didn’t flinch away. “Do you want to see your friends again, Chekist? Do you want to leave his place?”

A muscle in Kolya’s jaw twitched, but he nodded.

To Fulk, Vlad said, “I asked you before to think about your feelings toward my brother. I’ll ask you again, but this time, you need to know.”

It was quiet a beat, and then Anna breathed out, “Oh.”

“Dr. Talbot got it wrong,” Vlad continued, smug. “I never meant for you to be my wolf, le Strange. But my brother needs one. Two, even, if he’s going to manage an escape.”

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