Scent of Darkness (26 page)

Ann remembered what he'd said about the Sight, but surely Zorana saved that for bigger things?

"I'm your mother. I changed your diapers. Do you think anything about you is a mystery to me?" Zorana slapped another two plates in the middle of the long table.

"Hey, Jasha, what did you do to your throat? Cut it shaving?" Firebird hugged him again.

"Let me see." Zorana pulled back his collar and bared the red slash the Varinski had inflicted. Her face went carefully blank. "Hm."

Jasha caught her fingers and kissed them. "It's okay, Mama."

"So you keep saying, but what else are you keeping from me?" She turned to the stove, where a big pot was bubbling. "Jasha, go get your father. You know he's awake. Rurik, you help him—you know how to handle the walker."

"He's out of the wheelchair?" Jasha's smile blossomed.

"We still have it, but you know him. He won't use it." Rurik shook his head.

"He is a stubborn mule," Zorana said. "Like his sons. Only a week since . . . since he was felled, and already he pretends like nothing happened. Firebird, get me the bowls. Hurry, boys, before the borscht gets cold."

Jasha stopped in the doorway and opened his mouth.

Ann knew what he was going to say. She
knew
he was going to ask about corn bread. She pointed her finger at him, just pointed it.

He shut his mouth, turned, and left.

Ann glanced to see if Zorana or Firebird had noticed.

They both had. They stared at Ann in amazement.

"I don't know what that was about, but
I'm
impressed," Firebird said.

Zorana was less impressed and more wary, but her voice was kind when she said, "Drink your vodka, Ann. It'll warm you, and you'll sleep tonight."

"Shoot it," Firebird advised, and put a glass of water in front of her. "It'll make the rest of the drinking go easier."

The rest of the drinking?
Somehow, doing shots had never been Ann's idea of a family evening.

But really—what did she know?

At Firebird's nod, Ann threw the shot back, tried very hard to catch her breath, and drained the water in the hopes of putting out the fire.

From the living room, she heard a low rumbling voice, like the growl of a great bear. It got closer and closer, until its owner burst into the room and the sound became a shout.

Konstantine Wilder leaned heavily on his walker. He had an IV in one arm and an oxygen tube in his nose. His complexion was waxy and pale. But he was still massively muscled, he'd imprinted his sons with his features, and he dominated the kitchen. "So you are Ann Smith who I talk to on the phone," he boomed. "Handsome girl."

Ann stood to greet him.

"Handsome girl.
Tall
girl." He smiled, and his teeth gleamed even and white. "Although I like short girls best." He shot Zorana such a lascivious glance, Ann wanted to shield her eyes.

"You say that out of fear," Zorana said.

"Of course,
ruyshka,"
he answered comfortably. "It is a foolish man who does not fear his wife."

"Papa, let's sit you down and you can talk to Ann." Jasha hovered on one side of his father, Rurik on the other.

Konstantine slashed a hand at him and scowled. "I sit when I want."

Ann pushed back her chair and walked to his side. She laid her hand on his white knuckles, straining to hang on to the rail of the walker. "But I can't sit until you do."

His bushy eyebrows rose above his startling blue eyes. "I like you, Ann Smith. You show respect for your elders." He shot a glare around the room. "More children should show such respect." He headed for the chair Firebird held out for him.

The process of putting him in it was prolonged and painful as the oxygen and the IV were placed on either side of him.

While his sons and his daughter adjusted and assisted, Zorana came to Ann and placed her hand on Ann's cheek, and nodded her thanks. Then she hustled back to the stove and started filling the bowls.

Konstantine waved Ann back toward the other end of the table. "Sit in the chair of honor. Eat. And drink!" He slapped his hand on the table. "You have no vodka!"

Rurik brought the bottle to the table. The glasses were lined up on a tray. He filled each to the brim, then carried them from one to another.

Jasha handed Ann a glass, then took one for himself and sat beside her.

Ann stared in fascination at the clear liquid. She drank wine almost every day—it was one of the benefits of working at a winery—and occasionally she splurged and had a Cosmo. But two shots of vodka in ten minutes?

Konstantine lifted his glass.
"Za vasl"

"Here's to you," Jasha translated.
"Za vasl"

"Za vasl"
Ann said, a beat too late. Again the vodka took her breath away, and as she looked around, the world tilted to the right and assumed a rosy glow. "I had better eat something," she decided.

Jasha pushed the appetizer plate closer. 'Try the herring, the bread, and the cheese. That'll soak up some of the liquor."

Everyone was silent as Ann took a taste. "Wonderful!"

The kitchen exploded into pleased noise, as if they'd been holding their breaths in anticipation of her reaction.

Rurik seated himself next to his father.

Firebird and Zorana served Ann a bowl of borscht. They poured a dab of cream on the top, then stood on either side of her, their eyes gleaming.

She'd learned her lesson the first time. She made a show of tasting the soup of beets, potatoes, and cabbage, and smiling broadly. "Wonderful!"

Once again, they were ecstatic.

Zorana pulled a plate of hot breads topped with garlic from the oven and placed it on the table.

The women seated themselves, and the whole family began to eat.

Ann tried to adjust to the sound level, tried to eat enough to keep everyone happy, tried to observe the family. They were overwhelming, loud, and boisterous. Their smiles gleamed; their pleasure in one another's company was almost tangible. They ate the borscht with gusto and caught up on the events that had occurred since last they'd met.

How odd to see Jasha here in the midst of his family, fitting in so easily as they talked and drank. It seemed as though she'd lost her exclusive right to him—and in the time they'd lived in the forest, she hadn't truly wanted that right.

Now she felt like an outsider, and she wanted to go back. She wanted him for her own.

As Rurik poured his father another shot, she leaned over to Jasha. "Should he be drinking?"

"His doctors would kill us if they knew. He'll kill us if we don't serve him." Jasha shrugged. "A little vodka's not going to hurt that man."

Ann glanced again at Konstantine, and was shaken to the core to find his gaze on them.

He'd heard her. How could he have heard her?

Jasha observed them both. "He's a force of nature."

As if to prove the truth of Jasha's comment, Kon-stantine used his knuckles to knock on the table.

The conversation died.

"So, my eldest son has returned from a trip into the wilderness. He didn't warn us he was going to leave. He came back with a woman, and a slash on the throat. So, Jasha"—Konstantine fixed Jasha with a keen eye—"tell us why you worried your mother."

Jasha turned to Ann. "Show them."

The icon. Of course. He wanted his family to see the icon. She pulled open her pants pocket, took it out, and cradled it in her palm. The icon felt warm to the touch, smooth, and alive. When she placed the representation of the Madonna in the middle of the Wilders' kitchen table, the colors gleamed against the dark wood, drawing every Wilder eye.

No one breathed; no one moved.

They were so intensely still, Ann felt light-headed, as if all the oxygen were sucked from the room. It was so quiet, it seemed she'd lost her hearing.

"A thousand years . . ." Konstantine leaned forward, oxygen tank at his side, IV in his arm, his gaze locked on the icon.

Zorana tucked her hand into his. "It's your salvation."

"It is at least a beginning." He drew a difficult breath. "It is the first miracle."

Chapter 26

Ann looked from Rurik to Firebird to Zorana to Konstantine. A single tear trickled down Zora-na's cheek. Firebird clasped her hands on the table and stared at the icon in awe. Rurik shook his head, over and over, as if he couldn't believe the icon sat on the table, the gold sparkling dully, the Virgin's red robes bright, the holy family surrounding her.

Ann dared a glance at Jasha.

He, too, watched his family, taking in their wonder. He smiled at her, and nodded as if in thanks.

Perhaps he gave her the courage, or maybe it was the vodka, but she could no longer restrain her curiosity. "I understand that an icon of the Virgin is a miracle, and I understand that this icon, especially, is a miracle. But I don't understand why this one is
Konstantine's
salvation."

The family looked from one to the other, knowing what she didn't and silently deciding whether to tell her, how much to tell her. Perhaps . . . whether to trust her.

All her life when she visited her friends' families, she'd experienced that feeling of being left out, of being judged. No matter how much families liked her, they held a reserve between themselves and outsiders.

She'd had it with that kind of bull. She was marked, for evil or for good, but no matter what, Jasha was right. The icon had chosen Ann, and Ann would not fail in her responsibility.

Slowly she came to her feet. She pointed at the icon. ''You know, I've spent days being filthy and exhausted, climbing up and down mountains, getting almost raped and killed by a vicious murderer, to protect the icon. I stuck with Jasha instead of running away screaming the way any normal woman would, and I would think that all of you would realize that I'm not some harbinger of doom. I'm a good, clean, trustworthy woman, and you Wilders owe me an explanation, and I want to hear it right—"

Shit. She was making a speech. Every single Wilder was staring at her. Especially Jasha, who knew very well how much she hated giving speeches. She especially hated giving speeches when the only possible ending was to lie down on the floor, drum her heels, and scream like a two-year-old.

She'd definitely had too much to drink. She needed to get away. She needed to get away
now.

But before she could make an excuse and escape, Zorana said, "Pardon us, Ann, it is difficult to talk about that dreadful day. Yet you're right. You do have the right to know." She looked around at her family, then back at Ann. "On July fourth, I had a vision."

"Oh," Ann said in a small voice. She slid back down in her seat.

"When I was born, among my people, I was hailed as the One—the One who would receive the visions that have guided us for so long. The tribe's amulet was hung around my neck, and never did I take it off—until I left my people. Then I thought the gift was gone from me, and I put the amulet away. For thirty-five years, I saw nothing but that which is here—the earth, the sky, my children, my husband. But that night . . . that night the vision came, and it was powerful, sucking me into a darkness so black my soul was lost to me. I could see nothing, hear nothing. Then ... a voice. I realized it was my own." Zorana's tone deepened. "I said—"

"Ma!" All four legs of Rurik's chair smacked the floor. He grabbed her hand. "Don't say it again!"

In exasperation, she shook him off. "I'm not going to have another vision! It isn't words, but the unholy thing, that brought it." She turned to Ann. "The unholy thing was a statue of my daughter."

As if that explained everything.

"What happened to the statue?" Jasha looked around as if expecting to see it on the counter.

"I threw it in the garbage.” Firebird said.

"You touched it?" Jasha didn't bother to contain his horror.

"I'm your younger sister, Jasha, and while being related to
you
might make
some
people think I'm an idiot, I am not." Firebird's eyes flashed. "I wrapped it in a towel before I tossed it."

"She's been a little touchy lately," Rurik muttered loudly, and tilted his chair back on its hind legs.

Firebird turned on him, her cheeks rosy with anger.

"That's enough," Konstantine said.

Although the color in Firebird's face died slowly, the squabbling stopped as if cut by a knife.

"Did anyone talk to the kid who made it?" Jasha asked.

"No, because the next morning when River and Sharon Szarvas went looking for him, he was gone." Firebird looked at Jasha.

Jasha looked back.

Their twin expressions of terror sent a chill up Ann's spine.

And Konstantine's look of cold fury made her want to run screaming into the night. Even though he was handicapped by his illness, his ferocity frightened her. She was very, very glad he was on her side.

"So." Zorana leaned back, her hands in her lap, the picture of calm in a sea of violent emotions. "My vision."