Page 21 of When Among Crows
6AN INTERLUDE
Niko reaches across Ala, sitting in the passenger seat, to take a pack of cigarettes out of the glove box. One sticky, bloody hand on the wheel, he opens the pack, tucks a cigarette between his lips, and reaches for the lighter in the cup holder. Ala gets there first, rolling her eyes as she sparks the flame to life for him.
He leaves red fingerprints on the edge of the cigarette that he tastes every time he takes a drag, but it doesn’t matter. His mouth is full of the remnants of bird anyway. It’s disgusting, but he’s good at redirecting his thoughts. He has to be, doing what he does with his time.
The car isn’t his. He’s borrowing it from his mortal cousin, Janek, who doesn’t appear to realize that he lives in one of the chillier cities in America. He also installed an aboveground pool in his backyard a few years back. Niko has an assortment of stupid cousins like Janek—when a strzyga has a son, he usually comes out human, which is why there are so few like Niko in existence. So on the fringes of the Kostka family, there are always a handful of men, relegated to less central roles such as “bouncer” and “bodyguard” and “maintenance worker.”
The window on his side of the monstrosity is unzipped, letting in cool air and the sound of cars rushing past them, traveling in the opposite direction. There are always people out, even when night is turning to morning, as it’s now doing.
“Well,” he says, once he feels calm. “That was a lot of birds.”
Ala and Dymitr both make the same sound: a little grunt of assent.
“Anyone care to explainhowwe were just attacked by that many birds?” Niko asks, with the tone of a kindergarten teacher nagging a classroom of unfocused students.
“They were summoned,” Ala says. “I saw the one who did it.”
“You saw them?” Dymitr replies.
“Not… in detail,” Ala says. “But I saw someone standing near the river, and they…” She frowns, and makes a jerking motion with her arm. “I’m not sure what they were doing.”
“Blood ritual,” Dymitr says.
Niko considers this for a moment, then guides the car into a gas station. The gas tank is full, but he believes in safe driving, and what he’s about to do doesn’t qualify.
He flicks his cigarette out the window and fumbles under his seat for the knife he keeps there. Once it’s secure in his hand, he reaches back and holds the blade to Dymitr’s throat.
“What the fuck?” Ala says.
Dymitr goes still.
“How do you know that?” Niko says.
Dymitr knows a flock of enchanted birds was summoned by a blood ritual, which means he possesses more than basic knowledge about the Holy Order, the only ones who do such rituals. Bloody, masochistic rituals that force the sacrifice that magic requires.
He can feel Dymitr’s skin burning into the backs of his fingers where they’re curled around the knife handle. The unsteady movement of his swallow.
“You know a great deal about the Holy Order,” Niko says, when Dymitr doesn’t respond. “There’s no point in denying it.”
“I’m not denying it,” Dymitr says. “I’m just not sure why it’s any of your business what I know.”
“Considering I just saved your life from a pack of strzygi that would have murdered you for the flower you’re keeping in your pocket, I’d say it’s a little bit my business.”
“I don’t recall asking you to do that.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Ala says, slamming her hand down on the dashboard. She twists around to look at Dymitr. “Do youreallythink that you can get an audience with Baba Jaga without answering anyone’s questions about you?”
Dymitr stares back at her, steady.
“The only way mortal men know that much about the Holy Order is because they’ve summoned them to kill one of us,” Ala says, her voice going uncharacteristically soft. “Please tell me that’s not how you know them.”
“Of course not,” Dymitr says, and Ala relaxes a fraction.
Niko’s arm is starting to ache from holding the knife to Dymitr’s throat, so he lets it drop, but doesn’t put it away.
Dymitr chews on his lower lip. He still has a handkerchief tied around his right pinkie. His bow and arrows are back in his guitar case, leaning against his knee.
“I want an audience with Baba Jaga,” Dymitr says, “because I want to destroy a member of the Holy Order, and I lack the ability to do it on my own.”
