25
NORTHBOUND
Their steamer was called the Rebel, which Sasha thought apt. Though, in a country ruled by rebels, they were in the distinct minority of rebellious-minded individuals. His papa would have tsked and shook his head about their whole business, made a remark about trading one set of autocrats for another, but it wasn’t Sasha’s business to worry about that. He was just the attack dog here. Attack wolf.
And speaking of wolves, his were terribly unhappy to be onboard a ship headed up the Volga, howling in their steel crates below deck. Sasha wanted to go to them, but Monsieur Philippe was in a teaching mood. Again.
Their entire ragtag group was crowded around a bolted-down table in the mage’s private cabin, crammed in like sardines, shoulders overlapping. The lantern overhead swayed a little and was the only indication that the ship was plowing up the river rather than sitting still. Sasha could feel the vibrations of the water, but knew the others couldn’t.
Katya sat wedged between Nikita and Sasha, and Sasha could sense a new contentment in her. She smelled like Nikita, like lovemaking, and Sasha wanted to smile every time he looked at her. Good for them; they deserved a little happiness amid all this chaos. And Nikita had a distinctly relaxed look about him that Sasha had never seen before.
Nikita had always been in charge, the quiet authoritative presence in their midst, and certainly the strong captain they all turned to. But today he was playing the leader with something almost like relish; still cool and composed, but very much aware of his role now. If Katya was responsible for that, Sasha wanted to hug her.
“I don’t understand why we’re taking him all the way back to Stalingrad before we wake him up,” Nikita said, frowning across the table at Philippe.
“You see,” Philippe started, and then paused, tilting his head. “I’m afraid there might be ears listening.”
Ivan heaved himself up with a sigh and went to the cabin door. When he opened it, he revealed a cabin boy loitering just outside, one who jumped and yelped when Ivan shoved his big shoulders through the small doorway and said, “Can I help you?” in a tone that suggested any help forthcoming would involve fists.
“N-no,” the boy stammered, and hurried off.
Ivan looked left and then right before he closed the hatch again and wedged himself back into their ring with much elbowing and grumbling from Feliks.
“Shut up,” Kolya said.
Philippe cleared his throat. “Yes? Well, the trouble is that Our Friend Grigory is very distinctive looking, and he spent his years as friend to the royal couple in Petrograd. Doubtless there are those who would know his face, and we can’t afford that, not so soon. So I think it best if we take him back to the Ingraham Institute and, like we did with Sasha, allow him a moment to gather his wits and regain his strength. He will be very weak at first, and this way we’ll be afforded absolute privacy.”
Nikita sighed, but said, “Fair enough. Will he recognize you?”
“If not by sight, then by scent, certainly. To my knowledge, I’m the only mage he ran across in society.”
A low, mournful howl echoed through the ship, and Sasha whined in automatic response, fidgeting in his seat. Everyone turned to him, Katya’s expression openly sympathetic.
Feliks said, “Maybe this is a stupid question, but what are we going to do with the wolves when we get there?”
“Take them with us, of course,” Philippe said.
“Yeah, because that won’t look suspicious,” Kolya muttered.
“I’m not leaving them behind,” Sasha said, more forcefully than intended.
Kolya’s expression softened a fraction. “No. I know.”
“We need to discuss logistics,” Nikita said. “We’ll have to hire a truck, get our hands on some tools. This isn’t going to be easy.”
“No,” Philippe agreed, “it certainly won’t.”
Another howl shivered through the hallways.
“Do you need me?” Sasha asked. “For the logistics.”
“No, you may see to your wolves,” Philippe said with a smile.
Sasha didn’t wait for anyone to make room, simply hopped over the table and was out the door in a blink.
The wolves were being kept with the considerable cargo of ammunition and guns that had been quickly and cheaply manufactured in Stalingrad. The steamer’s captain had insisted that the wolves be caged, and so they were, all of them whining and whimpering behind their bars as Sasha approached.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, babies,” he crooned as he sank down to sit on the floor in front of them. He threaded his fingers through the bars and his alpha girl licked them. “I’m so sorry you’re locked up.”
They quieted some in his presence, still distressed by being locked up, but feeling safer with their alpha there.
He was alone with them a few moments, feeling his own blood pressure ease as he visited with each, letting them lick at his fingers and scratching at the bits of fur he could reach. Footfalls announce someone’s arrival, too light and quick to be part of the crew.
Katya appeared around a stack of crates and hung back, asking permission to approach the pack with a deferential head tilt. “Are they alright?”
Sasha smiled and waved her forward. “A little upset, but otherwise okay.”
She came to sit beside him, no longer nervous, close enough to touch, her posture relaxed. “Poor things.” She reached out a hand toward the alpha girl, offering the back of it to the bars. The wolf sniffed her, then gave one wag of her tail and licked Katya.
Katya smiled. “Hi, beautiful.”
Sasha felt suffused with happiness, the pride of a parent watching someone approve of his child. “They like you.”
“Really?”
“Of course. You’re kind–”
She snorted.
“–You are! Being a soldier – a sniper,” he amended, “and being kind aren’t mutually exclusive.”
She made a face like she was startled, tried to cover it with a snort and said, “I didn’t know you were a philosopher.”
“You’re a soldier,” he pressed on, “but you’re also kind. And you’re honest, and brave. The wolves respect that. And respect is the thing that turns into love in wolf language.”
Her brows lifted, surprised but pleased. “That…might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” A blush came up along her cheeks and she turned away, looking at the wolf through the bars. “But you don’t have to flatter me.”
“Wolves don’t lie. Animals are a lot more honest than people.”
She sighed. “You’re right on that.” She reached careful fingertips through the bars, and the female licked at them. “Sasha,” her voice became careful, too. “You weren’t born like this, were you?”
“A wolf? No.” And somehow his own words surprised him. He frowned to himself. “Remember what Philippe said? But sometimes it feels like I must have been. I remember my life, what I’ve done, and who I knew. But it’s hard to remember what it was like not to feel this way.”
She turned back to him, openly curious now. “What’s it feel like?”
“Like…” He’d never had to put it into words before, and for a moment he worried he couldn’t, but then they came, settling in his mind as the right ones. “Every smell, and sound, and everything you see? It’s that times ten. Maybe times a thousand. Before – it was existing inside the world. But now, it’s like the world’s gotten inside of me.”
“That sounds…intense.”
“Yeah. But it isn’t strange. It’s…like this is how I was always supposed to be. If that makes sense.”
“It does.” When he glanced at her face, he saw understanding there. And nervousness. She wet her lips. “When I think about before, when I was with my family. God, I’d do anything to have them back. But…”
He nudged her shoulder gently with his, encouraging.
She flicked him a smile. “But I don’t know, now that I know what I am, if they’d have me back. I’m not their sweet little girl. I’m a killer.”
Sasha snorted and she looked surprised. “She kills,” he said, nodding to the wolf currently licking at Katya’s fingers. “To feed her pack. You killed to protect yours. Killing for fun might be evil, but killing for your family isn’t.”
“There are probably some in the church who’d disagree with you.”
He shrugged. “I don’t care what other people think.”
Her eyes fell to her hand, the gentle, steady movement of the wolf’s nose as she snuffled her fingertips. “Killing changes you, though.”
“So does loving.” He smiled when she glanced up at him through her lashes. “But I think you already know that.”
“Sorry. I don’t mean to use you as a sounding board.”
“That’s alright. That’s what pack’s for.”
She sighed, and then laughed a little. “You’re very strange, and that’s a very good thing.”
“Thank you.”
She leaned against him, and the water slapped quietly at the hull of the ship, taking them toward new dangers…and undoubtedly more death.