Lone Werewolf Duology (bxb)

34. That Stupid Song

There are countless versions of the old Roma ballad in Russian Ochi Chernye/Black Eyes. Sinatra, Pavarotti, Hvorostovsky, Red Army Choir, Armstrong... I added an improv by Vladimir Vysotskiy. He is a singer-song-writer beloved for raw delivery, non-conformist outlook and tormented Russian nature. Horses and wolves are recurring themes in his songs, so it seemed fitting. He often protested that the singers don't all have to have voices smooth as fence posts, so ymmv

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June 2017

The visions of the riders rolling down the hillside and the smoke covering the horizon plagued Volya's nights. Every morning he woke up groggy, with his fingers curled into fists so tight that he had to clip his nails, to stop hurting himself. If only they could set on their way already! He was dying to see if he got it right.

"Do we really need all of this?" he grumbled at Liam, pointing at the growing mountain of plastic bins with equipment in the yard.

"Sure," Liam replied, looking past Volya. A serious-looking man in a dusky suit strode across the gravel towards them. The grounds teamed with his kind after the private security firm had built a super-spy agency on the grounds to protect them. In his hand, the man held a flat box, the kind used for... Volya's heart sank.

"This came in the mail today," the man reported, extending the chocolates to Volya. The Evening Bells, what else...

"And the card."

Volya grabbed it and translated the text into English, though judging by the man's aggravated expression he already knew what it said.

So glad you're feeling better! Be vigilant. You don't know what might happen when you mess with things beyond your comprehension.

Before Volya could crumple the card, the man took it and sealed it into a manila envelope. "It was mailed yesterday from Sitka, Alaska. Our measures worked, partially."

"What measures?" Volya asked.

Liam sighed and waved for the man to answer.

"We screened everyone who could have followed you from Moscow, but our poisoner wasn't among them. We assumed that she arrived illegally, so we used our channels to make it impossible for anyone matching her profile to board a flight. Any flight. We monitored the land crossings and the ports as well, but somehow she must have slipped through."

Volya cussed under his breath.

Liam put a calming hand on his shoulder. "She's running, possibly lost contact with her partners, if she doesn't work alone. We might still have the element of surprise on our side if we beat her to Russia."

"What element of surprise?" Volya groaned in frustration and kicked the closest bin. "Liam, this must be visible from orbit! We are not exactly stealthy! We should have left by now."

"We're working as fast as we can," Liam assured him, but Volya stalked away with a growl.

The fringe benefit of this quarrel was that it gave him a pretext to avoid Liam, even after he'd cooled off. Alas, whenever he glimpsed Anabelle hugging her brother, or pulling his ear, or whatever other horsing around, Volya's stomach pulled in, like he was starving. At night, whenever he didn't dream about the ancient genocide, he howled until the walls shook.

Fortunately, before he threw himself at Liam or deafened the entire household, the expedition had finally set sail across the Atlantic Ocean.

At the first sight of the yacht that was to take them across, Volya couldn't believe his eyes. The ship seemed far too big to be owned by one man. Apparently, it was owned by one man, Liam's dad to be exact.