Bargains and Betrayals (22 page)

Pietr groaned and Wanda cleared her throat. “Well. That certainly falls into the realm of too much information.” She closed the file, putting the folders back into the box and kicking it under the nearest chair.

Jessie tapped the table. “So what now? If they’re as big as you say, won’t they just keep coming and coming?”

“Unless the werewolves are cured, or dead, or they can catch at least one to use for DNA. Or breeding.”

“They’re not
animals
,” Jessie said, recoiling.

“Yes, they are, Jessie. Just like the rest of us,” Wanda assured her. “Beasts below the skin. It only matters why we let our inner beast out.”

Jessie

Back at the Rusakovas’ house Dmitri took the place of honor at the head of the table for dinner and Pietr sat at the opposite end of the table. The food Cat had prepared was remarkably good and although I tried not to, I sounded surprised when I complimented her.

It was as Dmitri tore open a roll that he began to speak. “There is an amazing Russian legend you should hear—about a man who cheated death many times because he knew how to control his heart.” He glanced at Pietr.

I leaned forward, intent.

“He was called Koschei the Deathless.”

Alexi’s glass rattled as he set it down, but he swallowed the drink in his mouth and listened to Dmitri’s retelling.

“He had amazing abilities—so great that some claimed they were magical,” he said, waving the roll and butter knife dramatically. “And no matter what anyone did to him, no matter what trouble came, no one could hurt him. Why?” He leaned forward, looking at Pietr. “He was
invincible
.”

Rocking back in his chair, Dmitri continued, knowing Pietr was enthralled. “But—ah, Dmitri, you say, how is such a thing possible? How can a man become invincible? When Koschei the Deathless was young he removed his heart from his body and set it aside, hidden in a chest on an island far away.
Da
, swords might rip into him, spears might pierce his body, but he had no heart for them to break—”

Pietr’s eyes fell on me. So did Dmitri’s.

“And so he took his wounds in stride—they were not so much, only bites into his body. His heart—his soul—was untouchable. He won many fights over…”

I saw him pause.

“The years—”

And I realized he’d avoided saying “many.”

“And he became a famous character in Russian legends. Because, like a true warrior”—his eyes fixed on Pietr—“he knew his heart and soul had their place.”

Pietr’s jaw tightened.

Ohhh. So there was a moral to his little tale. A jab aimed right at me.

“So how did he finally die?” I asked boldly.

Dmitri paused and then bit into his roll.

“How did he die?” I repeated.

Pietr cocked his head, watching Dmitri.

Dmitri swallowed. Hard. “Eventually someone learned where he had kept his heart and destroyed it. Tragic.”

“So he was never in love?” I prodded.

“What?” Dmitri sputtered.

“He never knew love,” I proposed.

Alexi snorted.

“Because if he had,” I reasoned, “he would have entrusted his heart to the woman he loved instead of burying it in some chest, alone. And a good woman would have protected it. With. Her. Life.” I ripped into my own roll. “Your precious Koschei the Deathless might have gone on forever if he’d been wise enough to trust in hope and work for love.”

Dmitri was speechless.

Alexi said, “If you study your Slavic mythology,
Uncle
Dmitri, you’ll find Koschei was not one to emulate. He was—at best—a jerk. Having a long life may have been good for him, but it made many people miserable. Because of the same thing that kept him alive—the fact he was heartless.”

“And being heartless would make even the shortest life meaningless,” I concluded.

Amy clapped and Max bit his lips to keep from laughing.

At my side Pietr turned and looked at me with astonished eyes. The hope I saw reflected there, so different from the glow of murder when he’d killed Christian, made me turn away.

I needed time. No matter how I approached it in my head there wasn’t enough of that most precious commodity to go around. So I pulled out my chair, excused myself from the table, and dragged Amy away to the basement to talk.

Jessie

Awkward
. Amy didn’t want to know half of what I did about the Rusakova weirdness, but I needed her generally sharp common sense to help me sort out my heart. I snagged the old office chair from the corner and spun in it, kicking my legs out.

She grabbed the armrests, yanking me to a stop so sudden my head snapped to the side. “You don’t drag me away from dinner just so I can watch you get dizzy.”

“Sorry.”

“Something’s eating at you.”

“I thought I’d come down here and just spill, but…”

“Okay,” Amy said. “You ask me a question first. Maybe that’ll help.” She gave the chair a hard yank and I spun in a slowing circle.

“How’s Max?” I asked when the room realigned and there was only one Amy. One was plenty to deal with.

“Oh. My beautiful disaster?”

“Um. Yes?”

“I don’t know. I can’t read him.” She shrugged, shoulders nearly at her ears.

Instead of asking when there’d been subtext about Max to read, I tried, “What’s he doing?”

“It’s … oh, God. Can we just not talk about this? Let’s try your problem again.”

“Not if you’re—like
this
.” I mimicked the way she shifted uncomfortably on her bed. “You’re not the only one who’s changed since I went away. I want to pay better attention. Be a better friend.”

“That’s a sucky revelation to have when I wanna be ignored.”

“Timing. So what’s Max gone and done?”

“It’s what he’s—what we’re—
not
doing.” She peeked up at me and blushed.

“Pretend I’m stupid, Amy.” At the moment it didn’t seem far from the truth. My brain had stumbled to a stop. “Tell me what you two
aren’t
doing.”

“
It
.”

“Oh. Kay.” I froze, suddenly very aware of why so many parents avoided talking to teens. “What’s it?”

She hesitated.

“Oh. Ohhh.
That
it.” There were few things I was uncomfortable hearing about.
It
topped the list. “You two aren’t doing
it
.” I ended the sentence with air quotes.
Be a better friend.
Okay. “Talk to me.”

“Look,” she said, “it’s just this—relationship stuff—is different with Max than with Marvin.”

“It darned well better be,” I replied. “If I ever find out Max’s treated you anything like Marvin did, I’d have Pietr and Alexi beat the crap out of him.”

She sniffed. “Whatever happened to that theory of forgiveness you were so keen on?”

“I believe in forgiveness,” I stated. “And redemption. But people who do bad stuff—like beat on their girlfriends—need to
want
forgiveness and redemption, need to
want
to change.”

BINGO. I straightened in my seat, recognizing my epiphany. Pietr wanted redemption. Pietr wanted to do the right thing. But Pietr kept getting thrown into situations where black and white weren’t any clear part of the visual spectrum and everything was a murky and dangerous sludge of gray. And some choices—horrible choices—were the only means to a better end.

Desperate times. Desperate measures.

“It doesn’t matter how badly
I
want those things for them.” She nearly sidetracked me alluding to my mistakes with Sarah. “But this isn’t about me. Has Max done anything?”

“No,” she insisted. “That’s what has me so confused.”

“What do you mean?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to look as tough as when she’d first started dating Marvin. Amy against the world. Amy, whose best friend’s head was so filled with her own issues she’d forgotten everyone else had issues, too.

Her tough-girl act no longer came as naturally.

“Sleeping over here is different from sleeping over at Marvin’s,” she began. “With Marvin, certain things were expected. He made everything very clear. I never had to second-guess.”

“Because if you did something he didn’t like he hit you.”

Focusing on a spot over my shoulder, she avoided my eyes. “Yes.”

Realizing
she
felt shame because
he
hit her, I felt awful. She believed she’d
let
him hit her. My throat constricted. I wanted to find Marvin and knock his teeth in. “What are Max’s intentions?”

“Max hugs me, kisses me, strokes my hair so gently … He nearly purrs my name—even though it doesn’t have a single
r
in it,” she said, puzzled.

“Mmm. Russian boys,” I said with a smile.

“Daaa. Russian boys.” She allowed herself a giggle. “It’s great, but when Marvin did something like that it was a signal.”

“For what?”

“Sex.”

“Seriously?” Blinking, I recalled how many
signals
I’d seen pass between them at school. “Wow. So if he hugged you—”

“Sex.”

“Kissed you—?”

“Definitely sex.”

“Petted your hair—?”

“Do I seriously need to repeat myself?”

“Every nice thing he did…”

“Got him sex. Yeah. Stupid me.”

I shrugged. “There was nothing stupid about the choices you made. You didn’t think you had any other ones.”

She looked at me, smiling slowly like she was beginning to find an epiphany, too. “Max is…” She tried to explain. “Well, he does nice things and you know…”

I shook my head. “Not exactly.”

“Oh. You and Pietr haven’t…”

“Nooo.” My face felt like it had caught fire, the blush was so hard.

“Smart girl,” she congratulated. “If I could have I think I would have stayed a virgin longer. You know. Hindsight?”

“Yeah. It’s always twenty-twenty. But don’t give me too much credit,” I said. “I’m seriously thinking about it. A lot.”

She grinned. “Wow, Jessie. There’s finally something about you that’s really, frikkin’ normal.” She leaned forward to whisper, “You kinda distanced yourself from normal with the competition shooting stuff, you know.…” She winked, having no idea just how far from the norm I’d gone.

But I’d adjusted my standards and broadened my definition of normal. You had to, living in small-town America.

“You’re thinking about having sex,” Amy teased.

“
Thinking
about it,” I stressed.

“A lot?”

“Enough,” I admitted. “Not as much as he does!” I cleared my throat. My cheeks still stung from answering Amy’s questions. “And Max isn’t trying anything with you?”

“Nope. And it’s not because he isn’t interested. In sex. And not because he hasn’t ever done it before.”

“Yeah. Definitely not that.”

She arched an eyebrow at me.

“Just ask him about Europe. Why do you think he’s not trying anything? Wait. Do you
want
him to try something?” God. Sex was confusing and I wasn’t even having it!

A slight smile lifted the edges of her mouth. “I guess I worry maybe he just doesn’t like me as much as I like him. Maybe I’m with him as a favor to Pietr and you. Like, to make me comfortable.”

“Yee-aahh. No way. You may have been blinded by his boyish good looks, or his rugged good looks—whichever, because he is certainly good-looking.…” I snorted. “But I know enough about Max to know he’s not doing anything with you as a favor to us.”

“I guess if he wants me around but doesn’t want to go at it like rabbits … maybe he’s playing the good boy for once.”

“You deserve a good guy,” I pointed out.

She leaned in, guarding her mouth with a cupped hand. “Don’t tell anyone, but I think we may
both
have good guys.”

Sighing, deep down I knew what I said next was true. “You’re right.” I just needed to remind Pietr of the fact.

Jessie

I closed the door behind me and Pietr spun around, coming away from the single round window that held a place between his packed bookshelves. “Jess.”

He looked down at the bed between us, looked at me, and then away. He licked his lips and swallowed.

“Who is he, Pietr?” I asked.

“He’s the one man who can help us get Mother out.” The reluctance in his tone was tempered with challenge.

“That’s not enough information and you know it.” I avoided the elephant in the room, hoping “Uncle Dmitri” was not the thing that filled my stomach with fear. “He hates me.”

“It’s not like that,” Pietr muttered. “He’s looking out for me. He saved our asses at Pecan Place and knows I would have never done that if it weren’t for you. You’re the chink in my armor. My Achilles’ heel.” He looked at me, his voice tight. “If you would have let me carry you…”

I shook my head. “No, Pietr, I couldn’t. I—” I swallowed.

He sat down heavily in a chair by the window, his face obscured in shadow blanketing the corner of the room. “I’ve done it, haven’t I?” he whispered. “Ruined everything. Alexi always said if you chase two rabbits you lose them both.” His voice broke and he stumbled to finish his thought. “I’ve been trying so hard to get you both … you and Mother…”

I don’t know why I hesitated as his heart was breaking, when everything in me said to run to him.… But my feet were suddenly stuck in place by the image of him squeezing the life out of Christian. Not as a wolf. Not as something between man and beast, but as Pietr.

My so often gentle Pietr.

“Oh,
shit
.” His chest rose and fell in a sudden flutter. He coughed. His hands twitched on the arm rests, fingers exploring the way they curved. He sighed. “You better just say it then, Jess. Say it and go.”

“Say what, Pietr?”

He exploded out of the chair with a volley of pops, to stand before me, his shadow thrown across me, as huge and menacing as he could be, the wolf’s head on his quaking shoulders, breath steaming across my face.

I stood my ground.

“Ssay you cannot love a monsterrr,” he growled. “Ssay it! You
can’t
love me!”

I glared up at him. He was so hungry for forgiveness. I smacked him.
Ow.