by K. N. Banet
“Sister—”
“No, Hisao. You might have a soft spot for Jacky after everything she’s been through, but this needs to be said. Only a band of idiots tries to test their will against a pack as strong as the Russians.” Mischa leveled her gaze on Heath. “And you. You could have told Jacky just how powerful they are. Are you trying to let my sister walk into her death? She seems to find trouble—”
“He tried to convince me to stop before it ever really started,” I snapped, stepping between her and Heath. “He’s here because I would have done it all without him, and he knew that.”
Mischa’s hard blue eyes were like ice. We stood at very nearly the same height, able to glare at each other.
“And what are you so angry about?” she asked softly. “Is this about Gwen?”
“Damn right, and your current attitude. You want to be mad? Be mad at me. I’m the one who fought contacting the family. I’m the one who decided I would stay and do whatever was necessary to protect my twin. Heath was just along for the ride and trying to help me. He has contacts and information I needed.” I stepped closer to her. “You should be grateful. Without him, I would have done this all on my own, and there’s a chance I could be dead already. If there’s anyone you shouldn’t be mad at, it’s him.”
“We’ll talk about that too,” she hissed. “Get in the truck.”
I stomped around her, grabbing my twin as I went.
“She’s awful,” Gwen mumbled as we climbed into the bed of the pickup.
“She’s upset,” I countered, “for her own reasons. I understand all of them. Doesn’t excuse her behavior right now, but she’s not a bad person.”
“If it doesn’t excuse her behavior, then stop trying to make excuses,” Gwen snapped.
Rolling my eyes, I realized I couldn’t please anyone today. Gwen hated both my werecat siblings. Both my werecat siblings felt threatened by Gwen and Heath. Hasan was mad at me. Russian werewolves had my human family, and there was no way in hell I would give them what they wanted.
As Heath got into the truck, I took solace, there might be one person who wasn’t angry at me—just one. His grey-blue eyes were full of concern when he looked at me.
Hisao didn’t get into the bed of the truck with us, Mischa did. As the truck started moving, I held on to stop from being bounced around.
“So, let me make something very clear as we enter the village. You do not talk to the locals unless they speak to you, and you will not put them in danger. I’ve protected them from the Russian pack for centuries, and I won’t have you jeopardize that.” She looked away from us. “A werewolf hasn’t entered the village in eight hundred years. They were attacked once during the War, and it was the last time I scuffled with the Russian pack. Alpha Vasiliev and I were known enemies, and he didn’t toy with me. This Sergey, I don’t know, and that bothers me.” When she looked back at us, she glared at Gwen. “You upset the power balance and have put people in jeopardy.”
“I did what I thought was right,” my sister retorted.
“And yet you failed to see the bigger picture. You’ll get your family back, and you’ll go home. I’ll be dealing with the consequences of this for centuries if Sergey can hold the power. He might not understand why Alpha Vasiliev gave me the space I demanded. He might not understand why these humans are protected—”
“Everyone should be protected.” Gwen held firm. “You have favorites, and I don’t care about the reasons. I stopped a monster from continuing his brutal rule, and I won’t back down. I did the right thing. If you knew—”
“I did know,” she growled. “I told Jacky the same thing. I knew what the Russian pack was doing. We’ll talk more about this once we’re secure.”
I knew Mischa wasn’t done with us, but this discussion didn’t need to happen in the back of a pickup truck. It needed a round table and alcohol. She was keeping something from us, and I had a feeling it had everything to do with the village we were about to enter.
23
Chapter Twenty-Three
The village was small, probably three to four hundred people. Everyone waved at Mischa as we drove by. They didn’t wear fancy clothing but weren’t destitute, either.
In the center of the village was an actual castle. Out of place and out of time, it shouldn’t have been there, which meant it belonged to the reigning immortal of the village. The truck pulled in front of the great stone structure, and Mischa hopped out.
“I had it built years ago,” she explained at my questioning look. “I enjoyed the sort of homes Niko and Davor were buying and renovating. It’s fully modern on the inside. I only made the outside look like this. It’s really just a mansion with a cute look.”
“Wow.” I shook my head in disbelief as I helped Gwen out of the truck. Heath jumped out on the other side and waited for us. He was too good a politician to be uncomfortable, knowing his place was to wait for everyone else.
“It’s extravagant, I know. It helps the village, though. I employ a lot of them, teaching them skills and languages during the harsh winters when farming is impossible. Some of the youth become my employees at my restaurants and stores all over the continent.”
“Sounds like you raised this village by hand,” I pointed out, looking around. Everyone was so familiar with her.
“I did. Hisao, take Alpha Everson and Doctor Duray inside.”
On cue, Hisao ushered them both away. Mischa had purposefully used titles, a border of familiarity and professionalism. She didn’t want to be personal with them, but when she looked at me after waving to another human, I had some guesses why.
“What’s the story here?” I asked softly.
“This village was founded by a wonderful man, his wife, and her extended family. I was always around from the very beginning. Once, this had been my territory. I guarded the village even then. I had to. I would never let my son start a small homestead without keeping him close and protected.”
“Mischa—” I wanted to apologize. This was her family. I was so damn stupid. I wish I had known, but none of my siblings ever talked about their lives at any great length.
“He was born between me and a human, The human…I never married. He was passing by, but the son? I loved the son. I loved him with everything I had in me, and when I asked him to let me Change him, and he said no? My heart broke. He had fallen in love with a beautiful human woman and wanted a normal life. He didn’t want the life I could give him. He knew everyone, of course, but he didn’t want it.”
“Like Dirk, except Dirk was adopted.”
“Same difference,” Mischa snorted. “I don’t understand how humans can adopt children and not love them. To me, a child I decide to rear is my child. That’s all there is to it. Not the discussion, though. Back to the village.”
I nodded slowly.
“He had children. His wife’s parents passed on, and the siblings moved away, but my son had children with his beautiful human wife. They left and met their own spouses, but they always came back. They wanted their children raised by their grandmother—me—as they had been, and their father had been. The village slowly grew. Outsiders were allowed to move in if they married into the family. Eventually, the branches of the family grew so much, some moved away and never came back, which is why I started my businesses, actually. So I could give them starting places in new areas. Some work for our siblings. But this village? This heart? This will always be the home of my son. The Russian pack attacked once during the War. In retaliation, I destroyed their compound. I must have killed hundreds of wolves over that year of grieving. Alpha Vasiliev realized I was not one to be toyed with. I was hunting him, but he was always a step ahead of me.”
“Of course he was,” I whispered, looking at the village with new appreciation. This community was built and shaped by Mischa. No wonder it was different from what I expected. No wonder they all knew and loved her. “You’re a rogue, but you said this was your territory.”
“When my son died, the grief
was too strong. My grandchildren and great-grandchildren understood I needed to take some time away. I always come back, but I can never stay. Not anymore. Not since he died. There’s a statue of him based on my description and paintings, on that cliff.” She pointed off into the distance. “One of my distant grandchildren went to art school and made it for me. My son’s gravestone was falling apart, and that sweet young man brought my son back to me in that statue. I visit it whenever I’m in the region. It’s the first and last thing I see every visit.”
“Thank you for…for trusting me enough to see this,” I said, meaning every word. “Thank you for telling me about this beautiful place.”
“It’s yours, too,” she murmured, turning back to me. “These people are your family. They love Hisao because they see him the most, but I keep paintings of all of you in my entryway, so the villagers can see your faces. That way, if you are ever in need and one of them sees you, they will reach out and help you. Just ask them who their grandmother is if you want to be certain. The answer will always be okhranyat.”
“Why?” I would have thought they would just say Mischa.
“My son taught it to his children as my title in the family, and it stuck. Now, it’s a way for the family to know these humans are those I expose my greatest secrets to. It means mother, origin, protector. I am all of these things for them.”
“And none of them have tried to out the family?”
“No. Why would they?” Mischa shrugged. “They love me, and I love them. I don’t give them everything they want, but I give them what they need to achieve their goals. I give them a safe haven. They give me love.” She grabbed my hand and slowly squeezed. “And aside from needing to know because you’re family, I’m telling you this because if your twin’s actions lead to them getting hurt, I will kill her, and there is nothing you can do to stop me.”
She released me and walked away, heading for the front door. Before she went inside, she stopped.
“Feel free to wander the village for a little while. I’m going to show Gwen and Heath their rooms. It might not be a long stay, but I will abide by the rules of hospitality. When you come in, Hisao will find you and show you the room I keep here for you.”
You won’t kill them while they stay with you. Thanks, sis.
“I’ll be in soon,” I promised.
With her gone, I took the time to enjoy a moment alone. I brought up my phone and looked at the picture again. My parents looked ten years older than they should have and afraid, holding each other, my father keeping my mother somewhat behind him as if he wanted to throw his body in front of a bullet for her. My niece and nephew were scared and had red rims around their eyes that told me they had been crying. Daniel wasn’t scared. My ex-brother-in-law was brave, holding his kids from behind. They had to have been posed for the picture. Daniel looked as if he wanted to shield his children but couldn’t. He held them possessively, his eyes daring the person with the camera to even try to hurt his babies. He would fight to the bitter end.
It wasn’t supposed to go this far. You have to believe me, it was never meant to turn out this way.
Twelve years and this was the first time I was seeing what they were becoming. I thought about my parents, what they could possibly think, and what they would say when I went to get them. Would they be angry? Would I finally make them proud? Would they hate me for not being human? They had never liked werewolves and didn’t want to believe magic was real, something they passed on to Gwen and me.
Daniel and I had been friends, but not close. Did he wonder where I disappeared to? He’d always been more accepting of Shane than my sister. I never met their children, but I saw Daniel’s eyes had passed down to both children while my nephew had Gwen’s hair and nose.
Family. I was protecting mine. Mischa was protecting hers. It always…always came back to the community a supernatural belonged to—who was worth killing for and who was worth dying for. It was the same for good and evil. It always came back to the community.
I put the phone away and took a deep breath of the fresh air. I saw the appeal, why my sister kept coming back to this place. It was beautiful.
“Are you well?” an elderly woman asked as she walked by.
“I am trying to be,” I answered honestly. “How are you?”
“Very good. It’s nice to have okhranyat back home, and I love when she brings family. You are…Jacqueline.” The woman’s English was good, though it was marked by a thick accent. I wondered if she had ever left the village a day in her life.
“I am,” I confirmed.
“She loves you. Says you remind her of herself.” She patted my hand and kept walking.
“Wait. What do you do? Who are you?”
“Ah, I am the head of her house. I manage the home and keep it clean during her travels. I keep the appointment book for her. I need to go now. My grandchildren want to see me.” She waved and kept walking, her steps supported by a cane.
I went inside the out-of-place castle and found Hisao waiting at the front door, sitting on a bench beneath several paintings. The warm glow of the lights made his face seem soft.
“You met Yelena. She’s a sweet woman,” he said softly. “She should have retired a decade ago, but the replacement she was training was lost in a winter storm, and she’s been reluctant to find someone else.”
“Is she hoping for…” I didn’t want to finish because it felt crass to ask.
“Mischa asked her, and she said no. She’s just…stubborn. She has been since she was a child.” He stood slowly, stretching like a cat waking up from a nap. “So, Mischa told you.”
“Do you have a secret family, Hisao?” I asked, crossing my arms. “Because honestly, I’m getting really tired of everyone in the family knowing every little detail of my life and being scrutinized every day. I would like to be able to turn that around. If y’all want me to be honest with you, I feel I deserve the same, and I’m not getting that.”
“It took her a century to show Niko,” he murmured. “He didn’t even get a picture in this hall for fifty years. As for me, I’ve had many names. No families. I already told you who my progeny are.”
“Other assassins you’ve trained. Yeah, I remember.” Sighing, I looked at the portraits. They were well done, very classical. It was odd seeing myself on the wall. It was too modern for the type of painting. I was standing in Hasan’s inner courtyard garden in jeans and a tee, smiling at whoever took the picture. I remembered the moment clearly. Hasan took it, the only photo of me once I was immortal. He said something about how I would never be able to take one again and to just let him.
Next to me was a woman I had never seen before, but her positioning between me and Niko told me who she was. It could only be Liza. She was beautiful with raven black hair, skin white as a ghost, grass-green eyes, ethereal and somewhat gothic in her grey gown. I couldn’t pinpoint her location.
“You’re the first person who didn’t have to stand for a painting,” Hisao explained. “Which is why you didn’t know about it, I’m guessing. There was a lot of tension in the family after you were Changed. None of us had been ready, and Father had never broken his own rules before and Changed someone he didn’t raise as his own. Davor was the angriest. You were unprepared for all of us, and we were all angry with Father and unprepared for you. It was too soon after Liza for most of us, not that it was your fault.”
“So, Hasan took a picture of me to give to Mischa and her painter.”
“Mischa is the painter.”
To him, it must have been a small detail, but to me, it was a big revelation. I looked at all the paintings with new eyes. Hasan was leaning on his desk, smiling indulgently. Zuri was dressed like a Queen, giving off the same attitude, but there was humor in her expression. Jabari was a little annoyed in his painting. Hisao was patient and calm. I had a feeling he didn’t twitch at all. Davor was frustrated. Niko was emotional, but maybe it was because Mischa was finally sitting him down. Liza was just beautiful, peaceful
in a way none of the rest of us were.
Then there was me, happy. I hadn’t been happy like that since I left Hasan’s home only four years into my immortality. Even then, there was something in my expression that wasn’t happy. I was finally moving on from Shane, but his absence was still affecting me.
Mischa hadn’t captured our likenesses. She captured her family.
“How angry is she?” I asked. Hasan, I could deal with on another day. Mischa was the battle I needed to survive right now.
“Let me show you the room she’s prepared for you. After, we’ll meet everyone for dinner.”
I’m not sure whether to be terrified or elated that he didn’t answer the question.
I followed him away from the entry hall of portraits to the second floor. I was the last room on the right on the eastern half. The inside of the castle was understated, but most definitely modern, with cream colors invading every space.
But when Hisao opened my door, it was in my colors. I loved grey neutrals, the coolness of them, and Mischa had realized it.
“She bribed the interior designer who did your home to come here and make a room to match. Don’t be offended. She’s done something similar for everyone. Mischa loves visual representations of people.”
“Sometimes, when I miss someone, I go to the room I keep for them here,” she said behind us as I dropped my bag on the king-sized bed. “Your twin and your werewolf are in the dining hall. Let’s go eat and discuss what to do next with your human family and the pack. Bring whatever the werewolves want,” she ordered, leaving the doorway and disappearing.
24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Hisao showed me how to navigate the mansion and led me into the dining hall. He pulled out my seat on the other end of the large table from Heath and Gwen, then sat across from me. Mischa sat at the head of the table on my left.
