“We tell nobody outside of our home, although outsiders like you are taught and given a talisman. But we did not realize what you are when you were gifted the talisman. We meant no offense, as we did not yet realize you are a vucari.”
“There was no harm or offense. The talisman does no harm where it is at.” The sting of silver hadn’t lasted long, either, and didn’t tend to sap away my strength like iron did.
Silver just burned and stained my fingers black, and it didn’t bother me all that much—and the metal only caused a problem with too much exposure.
“I can remove it for you if you would like.”
“You may as well leave it. It seems to reassure visitors. I’ve found people here to be quite superstitious. It doesn’t hurt me where it’s at on the door, and I’d rather not invite trouble without it. I would rather be left alone.”
“But the vucari are honored.”
“I appreciate that, but I enjoy my privacy, and Petra becomes alarmed when there are guests.” I became more alarmed than my wolf did, but I wouldn’t tell her that. The ved’ma already knew more of my secrets than I liked. Once I got rid of her and her wolves, I would go into my cabin and cook something excessively complicated in an attempt to make myself feel better.
It wouldn’t work, but at least I’d eat enough to sustain me for a change, rather than just get by as I normally did.
“We have butchers for the wawkalak. You are welcome to make use of them. The pack is concerned you don’t eat enough. You are very good at pretending you’re human. If it were not for our other senses, we would not have known.”
“Well, yes. In America, we don’t exist. Witches and wolves, they’re nothing more than superstitions. They work hard to make sure nobody realizes we exist. I learned early on how to mask my shopping so people would not suspect me.”
“Do you not believe this is a shame?”
“It may be why we don’t have sumasshedshiy volk, too. Or at least to the scale you do here.”
“Interesting.” Her expression implied she wasn’t convinced. “Who would we speak to who might know more of the American way of things?”
I wondered what Charles Desmond would do if I led the Russians to him. What sort of fallout would happen upon the clash of two very different worlds? Bringing him into the situation would offer me an out, and if pressed about Bodwin’s wolf, I would use the truth as my defense.
I hadn’t wanted her to be killed. I’d been in the habit of running for so long I doubted I could have adjusted my instinct to go with a group rather than escape on my own as needed.
Still, he was the only contact I knew who might be able to make sense of the situation.
“There might be someone,” I admitted. “I would have to call a friend of mine, who could reach out to him.”
“Would you?”
“I see no reason why not, but you would have to forgo your brands. They would not tolerate it, especially if he brought his children with him.”
“His children? But why would he bring his children?”
“They are capable vucari. What other reason would he need?”
“His sons?”
“Daughters, and possibly his wife, although I do not know if she would come.”
“They have female vucari?” The astonishment in her voice startled me.
I gestured to the female wolf. “You have a female wawkalak. Why wouldn’t there be female vucari?”
“The women of the pack are held strongly by the moon, but as long as they can shift with the full moon, they are safe to be around. We allow them to shift with the moon, for they are precious and rare. Could it be your vucari are much like our wawkalak?”
“You would have to talk to him about it. My mother didn’t teach me about the women much. She was more like you, a ved’ma rather than a vucari or other type. Americans tend to call our kind werewolves,” I admitted. “But I have gone many years without shifting at all. But I have my mother to thank for her teachings in that.”
“Who is this vucari? That you would introduce us to?”
“His name is Charles Desmond.”
“And you would contact him for us?”
“I would need to get to a phone, but yes. I would contact him for you. I make no promises his culture and yours will mesh well. I am far more tolerant compared to others. He takes care with his wolf, and he shifts with the full moons to protect those around him, for he is old.”
“He is old? How old?”
“Old enough. You would have to ask him.” I considered her wolves. “Will your friends keep haunting the woods around my cabin? While I’ve nothing against others like me, they scare Petra.”
“They will keep a polite distance to respect your animal. Initially, we believed her to be the vucari, but we learned the truth. Do all American wolves have such ethereal coats?”
Ethereal was one way to put it. “Not that I’m aware of, but I don’t know for sure. I keep to myself and know only a few.”
“You seem to enjoy your solitude.”
I shrugged. “It’s what I’m used to.”
“Would you like to meet the pack properly?”
I expected my wolf to be intrigued by her offer, but all I could sense from him was wariness and concern. “I’d prefer to call my contacts in America first. Perhaps tomorrow we could meet in the city?”
“Yes, of course. I will meet you with a wawkalak in human form. Will that be acceptable?”
I hoped I would not regret my decision to cooperate with the ved’ma, but what else could I do? They might mean well—or not. With enough care, I could contact Dante and concoct an escape plan if necessary.
Considering how my life often went, I expected to require one sooner than later.
“That is acceptable.”
“Then I will see you tomorrow, and I will tell you where our wawkalak and bodark shop so you might be able to enjoy more plentiful fare.”
Not sure what to say, I nodded. She gave a nod of her own, waited for her wolves to jump back into her vehicle, and left without another word.
Chapter Four
The ved’ma kept her promise, and while the pack of wolves hunted in the woods surrounding my cabin, they did not venture into the yard. The next morning, Petra refused to leave the front area, although she did run and stretch as I expected of her. She came at my call, and worried the wawkalak might break their word regarding my wolf if I left her at home, I loaded her into the truck for the trip to Blagoveshchensk. She tolerated it with grace, taking over the floorboard while chewing on her bone.
I would need to get her new bones again soon, and I would have to stop at the butcher to pick up lunch for her. I’d have to figure out what I would eat, too—or hope I finished my business in town without delay. I longed for the sawmill to reopen so I could return to the routine of going to work, studying, and building a home for myself.
I expected I would need to abandon my cabin in the woods sooner than later.
As promised, the ved’ma met me at the butcher she’d chosen, and she’d brought a young man with her. His face lied, for the wawkalak carried himself much like Charles Desmond did, implying he only appeared to be young.