“I’m in the apartment,” Vika said a bit nervously. “I’ll be waiting for you here. Hey, if you have the chance, can you see how angry at me Zimin is?”
“All right,” I replied before hanging up and smiling at the group. “Yep, she left the party, headed back.”
“You should go, too,” the Old Man said gently. “Your woman is waiting for you. Historically speaking, this is their holiday, so you should always pick the woman if you have a choice between her and your drinking buddies, no matter how much fun it is with them.”
“Yes?” That never would have occurred to me.
The Old Man interlaced his fingers and pushed back in his chair. “Yep. If we were getting ready for war, it would be different. Then, we’d be much more important than her—men were born for battle. Our fate is to fight and die, to enter into eternity. Those who run from death die many times over in their fear; those who can kill their opponents, even run them through with their spears, live forever. Anyway, that’s all well and good, but it doesn’t mean anything next to what’s waiting for you back in your apartment. Go ahead, get out of here.”
I stood up, not sure what to do. Bow? Shake his hand? Nod? Damn it.
“How could I forget?” the Old Man said suddenly, shaking his head. “The most important New Year’s Eve tradition—giving presents.”
A gift, too? It was nice, but much.
“Come here.” The Old Man waved me over as he pulled a massive, intriguing box out of a drawer.
It was made out of some kind of black stone. I could tell that the whole thing was stone based on how heavy it was—maybe, agate or something like that. There was a yellow metal edging it—gold, presumably—and embossing the lid with a few playing cards spread out. Cool!
“Give this to your woman.” Opening the lid, the Old Man dug around and handed me a small case wrapped in black velvet. “She helped me today, and I appreciate that. I value people who do what I ask them to do without demanding or expecting anything in return. She was selfless, virtuous, and that deserves a reward.”
I accepted the case and gave him a half-bow.
“And for you…” He rattled around in the depths of the box, finally pulling out a massive ring. It glistened with a dull yellow color, and the stone on top was dark as night. “I’d like to give this to you. Wear it to remember me and the fun we’ve had tonight. And hey, if you ever need to, you can always sell it!”
“I don’t sell gifts,” I replied firmly. “Especially not gifts like these.”
“I can respect that,” he nodded. “Give me your hand.”
His fingers reminded me of dry ice that burned straight through to my brain. When he slipped the ring onto my right ring finger, I found, to my surprise, that it fit like a glove.
“Very good,” he continued, closing the box. “Now, go and hope this year brings you good fortune.”
“I certainly hope it does.” I laughed. “Thanks for the present, and happy New Year, everyone! I’ll see you around.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Zimin said, standing up. “Just in case.”
“Go ahead.” The Old Man picked his glass back up, having, apparently, completely forgotten about me.
***
The yellow door closed behind me, and I breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t complete relief, however, since Zimin was still standing behind me, his face pale.
“Max, hey…” I turned to him but stopped when he held up a hand.
“Listen, I want to tell you two things.”
Sweet mother, take me home. If the old wives’ tales held true, I was going to have the kind of year I’d remember until the day I die, the worst one of them all.
“First,” Zimin said, walking over to the elevator and pressing the button. “I always remember the good things and the bad things people do to me, and in equal measure. Although, no—I remember the bad things better, and I repay them a hundredfold—but I don’t forget the good things, if only because they don’t happen very often. You helped me, today, even if I don’t know if it was on purpose or by chance. Either way, the facts are the facts. So, I’ll remember that, and one day, I’ll repay it in kind.”
“Oh, come on,” I replied with a wave of my hand. “We’re friends.”
“Still. You heard what I said.” He was unusually stern.
I felt like I should say something, but I wasn’t sure what.
The elevator reached our floor and opened. “Second, tell your Vika not to panic; she’s probably already thinking up all kinds of nonsense. None of this has anything to do with her, and getting angry at her would be like getting angry at a pistol because someone used it to shoot you. Make sure she doesn’t worry about anything that happened.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that,” I replied, perking up. “She really was upset; she certainly didn’t mean to do anything to you.”
“Take care of that ring,” Zimin said as he pushed me into the elevator. “Although you won’t really be able to lose it even if you want to. Okay, go home.”
I waved and pressed the button for the first floor. I wasn’t sure why, but I suddenly felt better. Probably, because, of everyone in the whole dangerous and unpredictable company, I liked Zimin the best. Even if I’d be fine never seeing him for the next hundred years.
Holding up my hand, I took a look at the ring. It was big, gold, and beautiful. The stone wasn’t as big as it had seemed at first, but it was still just as black, and there was neither a glint from the light overhead not golden specks. The gold ring going around my finger, however, was much more interesting. The bodies of several snakes intertwined, their jaws all latching onto the base of the stone. They were beautifully made, and I thought I could even make out the rage flashing in their cold, dead eyes.
“That’s really something,” I muttered to myself.
Then, I gave it a tug; I don’t like wearing rings. It would have been fine in my pocket, and then, I could stick it in our safe to make sure nothing happened to it. Notwithstanding what Zimin said, it was better to be safe than sorry.
I couldn’t get it off. It was almost as if the ring had grown into my finger.
What the… I pulled harder, but the result was the same.
The elevator stopped on the tenth floor, and a drunk pair stumbled in when the door opened. The girl’s cheeks had a particular flush to them; the gentleman looked like a cat with his paw in someone else’s sour cream. Needless to say, they’d gone from flirting to figuring that nobody would notice if they headed off by themselves.
“Happy New Year!” the young man said happily. The girl was less excited to see me. Well, that makes sense.
I waved amiably, the ring glistened, and the effect it had surprised me.
The young man swallowed hard and straightened his tie, the knot of which was somewhere near his shoulder. The flush disappeared from the girl’s cheeks, while her eyes took on a hunted look. Wait, what is this thing?
“We just needed to go upstairs…” he faltered. “Had to check something…”
“Oh, it’s fine,” I replied. It was an unpleasant, even uncomfortable feeling—I don’t like situations like that. Here I am, a complete stranger, and they feel like they need to make excuses to me? No, I just lived in the guest wing. I certainly didn’t care who was doing who.
By the time we’d gotten to the first floor, he was completely lost, and I was only too happy to walk out and hear two relieved sighs coming from behind me.
Not a bad ring. Apparently, it was going to have everyone running from me.
***
Everyone was pretty far gone. While I’d been off in storage closets and high-ceilinged offices that smelled something like oranges, the New Year’s Eve party had plowed right along, the people there moving from one strong drink to another. All that was left were the toughest nuts—the cream of society.
Most of them were having fun on an improvised dance floor, happily tapping their heels along it. To my surprise, among them was Henrietta, Zimin’s sister. She mad
e a much different impression than her usual languor, too. Her short, black silk dress did less to hide her flawless body than to highlight her better attributes, two bare arms waved gold bracelets in the air to the rhythm of the music, lush blonde hair rippled and flowed, and her dancing had grabbed the attention of most of the functioning men in the room. She really did make for a beautiful sight. Where is that coming from, though? There had been no emotion the last time I saw her, and there she was.
“I always get what’s mine.” I felt myself quickly and powerfully pinned to the wall. One slender, strong hand held my throat, while the other squeezed my manhood. Whoa, that’s the first time I’ve ever been grabbed there. It wasn’t a great feeling.
“That’s wonderful,” I replied. Jokes aside, she needed to get a grip; with a beginning like that, I didn’t want to be there when it ended. “Let’s postpone this a little, though, okay?”
“Right here, right now,” Dasha ordered, and I listened to the sensations in my body to see if she’d produce the same effect.
She didn’t. Sure, she was red-haired, green-eyed, and white-skinned, but so, what? It would have been great to get to know her better physically, and I wasn’t terribly opposed to the prospect, but that wasn’t the day for it. I’m tired, I want something to eat, and I want to get to sleep. I had a date in the afterlife coming up, too…
“Dasha, you’re incredible,” I said wearily. “And, really, I don’t mind sleeping with you, but let’s do it later. I’m tired like nobody’s business—just look at my eyes and tell me how red they are.”
I raised a hand to my face and pointed at my left eye.
Dasha wanted to say something, but the ring caught her gaze. It was like her eyes, in turn, changed color instantly; the green left them, replaced by a crimson fire. Her grip relaxed, too, which I was happy to feel, as things had been getting a bit uncomfortable downstairs. With how close she was, she could have just squeezed harder if I’d said the wrong thing, as well.
“If that’s what you want,” she said docilely and flashed a charming smile. “What’s the hurry? The longer the build-up, the better the moment will be. And you promised!”
“Scout’s honor.” I held up my right hand, clenching it into a fist. “I’ll wait anxiously for the moment when the two of us become one.”
“I will, too,” she said, kissing me on the cheek and disappearing into the dancing horde with a rustle of her dress.
What was that I was saying about the Old Man’s gift? It looked like it was going to be awfully useful.
***
I more collapsed into our apartment than walked in. To be honest, all the celebrations had me exhausted.
“Well?” Vika was up drinking tea in the kitchen, waiting for me to come back.
Sometimes, women astound me. They’ll spend days getting ready for an event, they’ll get prettied up so they can stand out against all the unapproachable beauties out there for a couple hours, and then they’ll come home, shed the whole thing like a snakeskin, and turn back into the normal people we’re used to. And they don’t even realize that that’s the version we like much better.
“It’s fine,” I replied as I plopped down into a chair and glanced over at the tea kettle.
“What do you mean?” She nervously poured some tea into a cup for me.
“Just that. The party’s over, and we can go back to our normal lives.”
“Yeah, right, and I’m supposed to just wait here, never knowing when I’m going to get kicked out onto the street.” A slice of lemon plunked into my tea. “After what happened…”
“It’s fine,” I repeated, taking a drink and purring happily. “Max told me to say, personally, that everything’s okay, that he gets it, and that he doesn’t hold anything against you. What did you have to do with it? You were just used. He wanted me to tell you to not worry about anything.”
Vika sat back down, crossing one leg under her. Given the length of her robe, it was quite the mesmerizing sight. “Really?”
“Yes,” I nodded. “Feel better?”
“Much.” Suddenly, she grabbed my hand and looked at the ring. “Wow, that has to be expensive. Who gave it to you?”
“The Old Man,” I said, and then scowled. “I completely forgot. He sent a present along for you, too.”
I pulled the black case out of my pocket and held it out to her.
“Damn, you need to go see him more often.”
The small clasp clicked, and the box flew open to reveal a pendant lying on a bed of red silk.
It looked like it was made out of the same stone as my ring. The shape was a black, multi-faceted drop held by a woman’s slender hand through a thin, gold ring. The whole thing was attached to a graceful, gold chain.
“Oh, that’s so beautiful,” Vika exclaimed.
“Not cheap, either. Look at that craftsmanship. I’m no jeweler, but it’s obviously old and well made.”
“What’s this for?” Vika asked, still not trying it on. “You don’t give something like this just because.”
“Well, he told me it was because you’re smart and beautiful, and you helped him. Rich people are all a little crazy like that. We think it’s a lot of money, but it’s nothing to them. Value means something different to us.”
“Yes?” She stood up and suddenly snapped the box shut. “I’ll try it a different time with a dress.”
I looked at her in surprise. My little magpie isn’t running over to the mirror with her new shiny toy?
Vika walked out of the kitchen, and I heard the door to the safe close before she called back to me.
“I’m not going to be sleeping alone, am I?”
“Not at all,” I replied, polishing off my tea.
Of course, she won’t be. I wasn’t sure what Dasha had done to me, but the remains of whatever drug she’d given me were still running through my veins looking for a release. Why fight nature?
***
That was probably the weirdest feeling I’d had waking up on New Year’s Day in twenty years. Even in the army, it had been much different, not to mention other years. There, it was just a normal day. No smell of tobacco-laced hangovers, no salads softening in their juices, no empty bottles underfoot when I stepped out of bed. It wasn’t there, and that meant missing out on the holiday. The best part for men is waking up the next morning, heading into the kitchen, pulling the leftovers out of the refrigerator, and laying it all out. One thing after another, you eat and eat until the hangover goes away. It’s wonderful, practically sacred, the taste of bread that’s just barely starting to go stale. That’s a holiday. That’s New Year’s Day.
Then, you turn on the TV to watch whatever wonderful old movie they’re playing.
I didn’t have any of that. Sure, there were leftovers in the fridge, but they weren’t the same.
It was noon, too, time for me to jump into the game. I still had Krolina’s present to give to her, and it was possible Gunther was back in the castle, too.
Vika was asleep, her hair scattered across the pillow, her upper lip bulging the way kids do. She was even smiling, I thought. Probably, a good dream. That’s good; let her sleep. I had work to do.
End
More Than a Game
The Road East
Winds of Fate
Gong and Chalice
Sicilian Defense
Under the Black Flag
Different Sides
The Crown and the Key
Word and Steel
Book Recommendations:
Thank you for carrying on your journey with Kif. It still isn’t over but while you wait for the next part we want to show you some more great books.
To face death itself, to hide from deadly guards, to conduct dark rituals and to use forbidden death magic? Being sent to Hell is definitely not what 12-year-old Anji would have ever expected from a government orphanage program. Project Chrysalis the epic new LitRPG is out now.
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[1] Bulamik - A delicious Middle Eastern soup made with goat cheese.
[2] Baba ghanoush – A Levantine dish of mashed cooked eggplant mixed with tahina (made from sesame seeds), olive oil, and various seasonings.
[3] Kofta - A Middle Eastern meatball dish.
[4] Troika - An old Russian means of transportation consisting of three fast horses harnessed to an open carriage.
The Right to Choose Page 28
