||BOOK 1 of THE WALKWE|| Assassins' Creed with Werewolves || for content review purposes please, note that while Volya is 17 in the first book, he is 18 in the second book.
Ancient magic and werewolves ain't supposed to be center-stage for a pop-st...
On the patio of the Shokoladnitza coffee house, Damir alternated drags on his cigarette with sips of his espresso. This combo made Volya queasy from the aroma alone, but Damir was entitled to do whatever pleased him today. He manfully inhaled the fumes with every word his old friend said. Plus, it was marginally better than being cooped inside with all the gleaming display cases. The rows upon rows of long johns in shiny chocolate jackets, almond-sprinkled cookies shaped like cogs and trumpets filled with cream to bursting would have distracted him.
"I'm glad I'm not the only one obsessing over where the centaurs had gone and why they had disappeared in all but myth," Damir said after Volya had finished the detailed account of his dream.
Volya sniffed his coffee. The passing waitress who had been all smiles before huffed, but Volya shrugged it off. He could never be too careful about cross-contamination with milk or sugar. "What did you turn up?"
"Not much," Damir admitted, pushing the pack of Marlboro around the plastic table-top with his index finger. "The Ponto-Caspian theories for proto-Indo-European genesis were all the rage in the fifties before they were thoroughly debunked. I combed the archives for any references to burials that had human and horse bones marked as 'disturbed' or 'composite skeletons'."
"Composite skeletons?" Volya asked, risking a sip. It was a good strong coffee and nothing else, so his spine relaxed a little. He'd tip the waitress later.
"Once in a while various human cultures combined different animals into super creatures. Not just in art, like your centaurs or manticores, but in the bone pits as well. Sort of making powerful Frankensteins to guard the house or ancestral graves."
"Okay," Volya said. "And?"
"A big fat nothing in the right period, right area," Damir replied ruefully. "Same with searching for any bizarre articles explaining findings with horse skulls and human leg bones missing."
"It seems I'm way ahead of science."
Damit nodded. "It seems so."
July sun warmed Volya's face with the hint of the soon-to-come urban heat. He should get out of Moscow before the asphalt starts melting, but the sleepless night was catching up to him. He patted the list in his pocket. A little break didn't hurt.
Damir asked for another coffee, the third one. Volya swirled what was left in his cup, tempted. Luckily, before he had made an unwise choice, his phone buzzed.
With a sigh he picked it up to see yet another later, bae, sorry! message with an emoticon of folded pleading hands and a heart. What else was new? The Buzzkill boys made Liam work hard for every hour he'd missed cuddling with Volya. Or maybe Liam hid in the studio because he could do what he loved without interruptions.
Volya suppressed the impulse to hit reply and type something stupid. Do you miss me? Like really, really miss me? I miss you. Liam would laugh his ass off.
Damir lit up again with the fresh cup of coffee. He studied the flow of people and cars over the cigarette smoke. Volya wished he could act this unperturbed.
"I'm still nowhere near the answers though," Volya had finally said. "The same vision repeats itself, calling me to follow it... somewhere. I'm not sure where, so that's why I'm going to the Buyan Isle again. It worked last time to gain clarity."
"Great idea," Damir said. "We can leave tomorrow or a day after, if we need to pack extra gear."
"Ah..." Volya squinted past Damir's shoulder. He wasn't traveling just for Yasuwa's sake. He was going to find his people, or at least leave a message to them that he wants to meet. Damir had never even seen him in his werewolf form, let alone was prepared to chase after a pack of them.
"Ah, I don't think it will be safe for you, to be honest."
Damir flipped the cigarette pack on its side and tapped it. Empty. Surreptitiously, he checked his tiny espresso cup... also empty. "Will it astound you to find out that I don't give a crap about my safety?"
Volya swallowed hard. It wasn't his place exactly to judge just how much of Damir's life was unraveling or the depth of his disappointment. Maybe saying trivial things wasn't the best idea. Maybe taking him up on this offer was what Damir needed, but, but, but...
"No, it wouldn't surprise me at all, but—"
"Then it's decided. Let's get your stuff from the hotel, shake the mothballs out of my camping gear and—" Damir tossed a couple of bills on the table and pushed to his feet, "and find out where all the centaurs had gone off too."
The man looked so determined, that no-nonsense enthusiasm bubbled up inside of Volya. Like, who knew what the right thing was anyway? Maybe chasing mythical creatures was totally legit. Damir going with him made his endeavor seem less insane somehow. Just as desperate, granted, but less insane.
His lips stretched in a grin. "Well, Sir, when you put it like this, how could I refuse?"
"The carriage, then, the carriage!" Damir exclaimed in imitation of a fictional lover who had fled Moscow two centuries ago in search of balm for his broken heart.
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