Verena's Whistle: Varangian Descendants Book I by K. Panikian (essential reading txt) 📗

I met Theo’s raised eyebrows with a big grin and we sat at a table for two directly under a huge, wooden chandelier in the shape of a wagon wheel. “I love it,” I whispered.

“You would,” was Theo’s reply.

We each stared blankly at the Russian menus and then Theo, in a brilliant move, flipped his over to find an English version. We ordered a bottle of wine, mushrooms baked in cream and some pelmeni, or dumplings, stuffed with ground beef and sour cream. I filled up on the pelmeni, they were so delicious. Then we split a dish of skewered boar meat and grilled vegetables and called ourselves full.

While we ate, we made plans for the next day. It was an hour drive west to Lake Chebarkul, and another hour past that to Zlatoust. We needed to rent a car and then find a hotel much closer to the two sites.

“I wish we knew which place to focus on first,” I said to Theo. “Have you gotten anywhere with trying to use your Sight?”

“No,” Theo answered. “Whatever was blocking Uncle Alex is blocking me as well.” He looked frustrated. “I think we can assume, however, that the forest site is more dangerous, just because there are more places to hide in a forest if something did come through a portal. If something came through the lake, just based on the photos we’ve seen from that site, there would be obvious tracks in the snow leading to and from the hole in the ice.”

“I agree. I think we should check both tomorrow though, to make sure.”

IN the morning, we repacked our bags. It would take a couple more days for the weapon crate to arrive at the hotel. In the meantime, I found the long knife with the nightingale motif from my suitcase and hung it on a cord around my neck, under my coat. It wouldn’t be a quick draw, but I was pretty sure the blade was an illegal length, so I needed to keep it hidden.

We checked out of the hotel and took a cab to the car rental place. I’d booked us online last night after dinner and once there, it was a simple matter of signing some papers and then getting the keys. We ended up with a full-size SUV and hit the road.

I put the address for Lake Chebarkul in the GPS first. The road signs were all in Cyrillic, so I shouted helpful things at Theo while he white-knuckled his way out of the city. It was a relief that “stop” signs at least, appeared to be universal.

Once we were on the highway, Theo relaxed and I enjoyed the scenery, including some beautiful old farms and more snowy fields. We were at the lake a little more than an hour later and followed the hand-painted signs and crowds of people to the impact zone. We ended up parking more than a mile out and walking in, it was so packed.

“All signs point to 100 percent normal situation,” I said to Theo as we walked.

“Yeah,” he answered. “This site is a carnival, not a crime scene.”

There were food trucks and bonfires on the edge of the frozen lake. We got in the line of people snaking their way out to the opening in the ice. The people around us were excited; they were dressed in warm winter gear, and a few appeared to be carrying flasks.

When we got to the hole, the wooden barriers stopped us about ten yards out. Under the guise of taking pictures, we both strained our senses. My second sight was practically nonexistent, but I hoped that Theo, being this close to the site, would be able to bypass whatever had been blocking his visions.

The sun was bright overhead. The snow on the lake surface was white and felt crusty under my feet. The circular opening in the ice exposed blue-black water surrounded by smooth walls; I let my awareness trail down the slick walls and sink into the frigid water. Down I went to bottom where the gluey mud was black and soft. The mud felt warmer than the water and I buried my limbs and my tail deeper into the viscous, dark sludge until only my eyes were visible, staring out into the inky water. I was confused and uneasy in this place. It was not my home. The shapes moving across the ice above were strange and too colorful. I did not see any fish nearby, but I would stay hidden in the mud, I decided, until I got hungry.

I blinked my eyes, shook my head, and trembled. I was on the frozen surface of the lake again, standing next to Theo who was still staring blankly at the exposed water. I turned my face up to the sun and tried to think warm thoughts. After a moment, Theo blinked as well. He looked ill. He started to speak, but I shook my head. “Not here,” I said.

We walked off the ice and headed back to our rental. Theo stumbled a couple of times but then seemed to recover and walk more smoothly. Theo started the SUV immediately when we climbed inside and I hit my button for the automatic seat warmer. I was full-body shivering.

“I’ve never,” Theo started and then paused. “I’ve never Seen so clearly before. Or felt so involved in my vision. Did you see it?”

“I didn’t look at it, no, but I felt it. I felt like I was it. I was hiding in the mud, very confused. I had a tail.”

“It was more than that for me,” Theo said. “I saw it, curled up in the mud. It’s a bukavac, for sure. I watched it in fast-forward. It’s going to hide in the mud and then, when it gets hungry enough, it’s going to surface. Three nights from now, it will climb out of that hole in the ice and slink and slither over to the parking lot. There