Page 250 of Golden Eagle

“They’ll do more damage to any immortals you’re fighting. The silver acts like poison – wolves, vamps, mages, it doesn’t matter – and you won’t have to spend all your ammo and then pummel them to death on top of it. There’s enough here for you, and your granddaughter, if she wants them.”

Great-granddaughter, he thought, but the distinction didn’t matter, did it? She was his blood relative, a direct descendant. Human, and much more fragile than him, and drawn into conflict because of him – because of what he was, and what he’d done.

He nodded. “Thanks.” Took the box and went to find Trina.

~*~

“Sure,” Trina said, surprised. “The more the merrier, I guess. But won’t Val need you?”

Mia shook her head, her expression set in steely lines in a way Trina hadn’t seen from her yet. “I think I’ll be more help to you.”

“Okay. Well…” Nikita was approaching. “Jamie’s over there,” she said, pointing, and Mia nodded and headed that direction after a quick glance at Nik’s approach, not needing to be asked to give them some space.

“What’s up?” she asked when he reached her.

He offered a black, matte 9mm to her.

“I have a gun,” she said. “Two, actually.”

“This one’s got silver bullets.”

She frowned up at him, noting the way his jaw was clenched, the way his lips were pressed into a pale line. “Far as I know, I’m going to be dealing with humans.”

“Far as you know.”

She accepted a handful of the rounds and dropped them in her jacket pocket; she’d empty one of her extra mags and load them there in a minute, when Nik wasn’t staring at her like he was afraid he’d never see her again. “It’s going to be okay,” she said in an undertone. Forced a smile she didn’t feel. “We’ve got this.”

He stared at her another moment, expression pained. Then, to her great shock, he put his arms around her and hugged her tight to his chest; so tight it was hard to breathe. Belatedly, she hugged him back.

“I’m very proud of you,” he whispered. “Of who you are. I just wanted you to know that.”

Oh no. She’d been doing so well, containing her nerves, keeping calm, putting one foot in front of the other. But his simple, heartfelt words left her eyes stinging.

She tried to mask a sniffle when he drew back, and her smile wasn’t forced, now, but it was wobbly. “Gee, thanks, Grampa.”

“Still not answering to that,” he said, his own eyes suspiciously shiny.

“Yeah you are.”

He touched her face, briefly, and it sure felt like a grandfatherly touch, no matter what he insisted. “Be safe, Ekaterina.”

“You, too,Dedushka.”

~*~

“Nikita.”

He pulled up short on his way to join Sasha and the rest of the storming party.

Fulk was going with Trina, Jamie, and the group meeting with Dr. Fowler. He was dressed simply, all in black, his biker jacket zipped up to his chin and his hair tightly braided and coiled, like it had been when they’d sparred. He held a familiar sword, too: the short sword he’d let Nikita use, however clumsily. It was sheathed, now, a belt dangling. He held it out to Nik and said, “Take this with you.”

Nikita hesitated. By the end of their sparring session, he’d been better-balanced, but far from proficient. He didn’t like the idea of carrying a still-unfamiliar weapon into battle; didn’t like the idea of its odd weight slapping along his leg as he walked, throwing off his usual balance.

As if reading hit thoughts, Fulk said, “You never have to draw it, if you don’t need it. But I’d feel better if you were properly armed.”

What do you care?he thought, on reflex. But he tamped down that impulse, and took a good look at Val’s wolf. From what he’d seen of him, Fulk was usually a little hangdog; he wore depression like he wore his leather jackets. But tonight his eyes sparkled – not with excitement, no, but with an emotion a touch more bloodthirsty and nervous than that. A sincere expression – a sincere statement, himfeeling better if you were properly armed.

Nikita took the sword. “Thank you.”

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