Page 172 of Golden Eagle

He was too strung-out to be embarrassed by being treated like a flighty lapdog. Val carried him over, and set him on his feet, loosened his grip, but didn’t let go.

Kolya lay on his side on the roof, Fulk crouched over him, one leg kicked over his now-still body, caging him in, long-fingered hands braced on his side and shoulder. Anna had moved to his head, cradled it on her lap, stroked his hair.

“It’s alright,” she was saying. “You’re fine. Just relax.”

Kolya’s head didn’t move, but his gaze slid up to Nikita, and another shudder moved through him, curling his body up even tighter.

“I remember,” he said again.

~*~

Sasha was back behind the bar when Annabel appeared. His greeting – and his momentary burst of excitement – died when he took a good look at her expression. “You need to come up to the roof,” she said, and then added, before he could vault over the bar, heart already pounding, “It’s nothing bad. But Nik needs you.”

He was dimly aware of her following as he shoved his way to the back of the club and up the stairs.

Val waited for him just beyond the door, wind playing with his hair. His bare arms were crossed, as if he were chilled, but he opened them and reached to catch Sasha by both shoulders, face instantly softening.

“It’s alright,” he said, straight off.

Even though it was coming from Val, it wasn’t much comfort. “Where is he? Anna said he needed me.”

Val gave him a quick, fond smile. “He’s right over there.” He didn’t let go, yet. “He’s just learned something shocking – it’s going to shock you, too. But your Nikita’s already in a rather – fragile – place at the moment, so it’s hitting him hard. He does need you. And, Sasha” – his voice grew serious – “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this sooner. I was hoping to break the news gently, but things have a way of working out on their own, don’t they?” He let go, and stepped back, before Sasha could ask for clarification, indicating a small huddle of person-shaped figures across the roof. He knew Nik straight off, his scent distressed, and Anna’s husband, Fulk. A third person lay at their feet, human, and his scent was strange. Was wrong, was clouded by dirt, and fire, and–

And was familiar. It tickled at his senses in the way old memories did. The way a certain soup would send him back to his mother’s kitchen, or the cry of a crow overhead sent him to Moscow’s raven-filled streets. The way the clack of the subway reminded him of a train car in Siberia, of snow sliding past, almost as crystalline and chilling as Nik’s eyes had been, on that first leg of the journey, all those years ago.

His belly clenched.

But he had to get to Nik. Nik needed him, and that was all that mattered.

He crossed the distance in a few strides, and sank down to his knees beside Nik, grabbed for him right away, touched his shoulder, and then the back of his neck, the skin there cold and clammy.

Nikita turned his head toward him slowly, as if dazed, his expression oddly distant. He blinked a few times. “Baby,” he said. “Sashka.”

“Yes, I’m here. What is it?” His heart pounded, and his skin itched and shivered, his wolf pressed up close to the surface, wanting to come out, wanting to comfort his mate, his vampire.

Nikita’s gaze shifted over his face, not really seeing, but searching. He licked his lips, and said, “It’sKolya.”

“What?” Sasha leaned in closer to him – and then froze. Kolya.That’swhat was familiar about the scent.

He couldn’t take hold of the emotion that surged inside him. A wave of things too big to classify. He glanced down at the man lying on his side, the one Fulk seemed to be holding down, and yes, that was Kolya’s face, familiar, pack, even if his hair was longer, and his skin bore scars, and he smelled like something that had come from underground.

Kolya. Breathing, and wild-eyed, and very much alive.

Val paced around them, and moved to stand behind Fulk, hands clasped together loosely in front of him, chill bumps visible on his arms. “There’s a very powerful mage named Liam Price – my brother’s mage now, as it happens, forcefully bound – who can perform incredible feats of necromancy. He traveled to Russia, and he’s to thank for Kolya’s return to this plane.” He said it softly, sympathetically, like he was sorry to have to explain at all.

Sasha swallowed once, twice – pushed down a wave of sudden sickness – and then forcibly gathered his wits. It took no small effort, but he could do it. And he must. Beside him, Nikita trembled, already fragile, as Val had said, already hurting, and guilty, and questioning things. This was a blow – this was the sort of thing that couldn’t be comprehended. Sasha had loved Kolya because he’d been pack, but he hadn’t known him like Nikita had, as a childhood friend, as an ally for the long, dark years as a Chekist. It was up to Sasha to be the strong one here, and he would do it.

He took a breath. “It’s really him? It’s not…” He didn’t want to voice his fear, that this was some poppet made of Kolya’s flesh, its mind nothing but a vehicle for some dark sorcerer.

“It’s really him,” Val said, nodding, seeming to understand. “From what I understand, it takes some time for a person’s memories to fully return, and some may never be fully themselves again – not as the people in their old lives knew them – but it’s very much him.”

Face set in grim lines, Fulk eased back, leaving only a single hand on Kolya’s shoulder – he wasn’t trying to get away. “Much as I hate him, Liam’s one of the few necromancers who can perform the full resurrection. He brings back the soul with the body. The whole person.”

And this Liam – whoever he was – had brought Kolya back, of all people. Not a king, or a president, or some important figure, butKolya. Their Kolya, the dry, kindhearted, dancer-turned-killer who’d followed a werewolf into terrible battle.

Sasha could do this. Hecould.

“Why Kolya?” he asked, glancing from Fulk, to Val, and back again. “Why him?”

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