Authors: Cyndy Aleo
She shakes her head, afraid to open her mouth and let all the things she's thinking come spilling out in a breathless gush.
“Do you think I regret last night?”
She starts to nod her head, then pauses and ends with a shrug. She isn't sure what to think. Old Vance was unpredictable, but there was a routine even in his lack of predictability. She’d have been able to plot his cycles on a graph, almost in a neat bell curve as his memory would grow, then peak, then ebb. If the Vance of before was a waxing and waning moon, this Vance is an apex predator: all sleek confidence and feral sexuality. There will be no ebb and flow with this Vance, no neat bell curve.
He leans into her, his nose brushing against her ear, and his breath warm on her neck. She closes her eyes, thinking how easy it will be to fall into this. Just as easy as it was last night, in fact.
Except this Vance is a total stranger to her. This Vance is no one she’s ever met before. The Vance of last night was scared of being alone and had no memories. This one remembers more than her Vance ever has. He speaks another language. He knows exactly who he is.
Her Vance would have wiped his memory blank before he'd ever let himself get to this point. Their kisses last night had been pure need. This — this is something akin to feline seduction. He’s sure of himself, panther-like, and she pushes him away.
“No.”
It's like a light switch; he turns right off.
“So you do regret last night.”
“It's not that,
”
she says. “You aren't … you. I don't know this you.”
“Oh.”
He takes a step back, and she instantly regrets her words. She feels cold without him pressed against her and lonely when he returns to the top of the stairs. She has to be an idiot to turn him away after waiting for him for so long.
“C'mon, then. You may as well come up here and get to know me. I'll tell you everything. You might want to run at the end, but I'll answer every question you have.”
He holds out his hand, and she takes it. She realizes that they’ve never, in all their years of friendship, held hands. His hand is large and warm, and hers folds into his perfectly. She might not know him right now, but her hand knows his. She feels safe with her hand wrapped in his. His fingers are so long they cover hers almost entirely, so she feels like her entire hand is encompassed in his.
No matter what happens now — no matter what he's going to tell her — he's going to keep her safe. She can tell just by holding his hand.
15: Waiting
Worse, she is allowing him to drag the human girl into their world, a place the girl has no business being. They are unlikely to be able to keep themselves safe, but bringing a human into this is probable suicide. Or at least, homicide. She sees no way to keep Donovan safe.
She tries to remember all the concerns she'd had about raising Jakub among humans. Him falling in love with a human had never been one of them. Donovan's body language when she walked up the stairs was all hesitation and nerves, but her eyes were clear and focused on one thing: Jakub.
The girl may not know it yet, but Grace knows her son could say he clubs baby seals and puts them on skewers for breakfast, and Donovan will eventually forgive him and likely offer to do the skewering for him, if not the clubbing itself. She has already accepted more than most humans would, and her blind devotion is a point in the girl's favor when Grace considers what will come.
Even now, Grace can feel his power humming through the house, and she has to wonder how much the sisters are aware of, both in terms of Jakub and the legend surrounding his existence. Is the prohibition against bearing males because of the disharmony they have traditionally brought to the tribe when they have been introduced, or because this has happened before, and they know this type of power is more than the sisters can control?
As a child, Jakub had been striking in his communion with the
Matka
, catching on as fast as any sister in the Ways. As a nearly mature adult? She is almost frightened of what he may be capable of.
She has to trust she has taught him everything that is right, that nothing they have done in all these years away from her sisters has perverted and shifted inside him, because she is fairly certain she will hold no dominion over him when he is fully unleashed.
The mere undercurrent of that power pulsing through the house is enough to have her worrying about how much time they have before the sisters will track them. The mother in her wants to be packing, running, urging him to once more retreat to the safety of his amnesia, where his power is subdued and they are safe, safe, safe.
But he is no longer a child. She has promised him that he — and his mate, should Donovan choose to be so — will be allowed to decide their path. He is aware now of what will come. The sisters will not have forgotten Grace's transgression. They will not have forgotten Jakub. They will not have forgotten how much time has passed. They will have been counting the days and months and years the same as she has, and when they come, they will do so with one purpose in mind: to finish what she refused to.
One lone tear falls, a weakness she has not allowed herself in these 200 years since she ran. She has always known this day was coming, but it does not make it any easier in the knowing.
~
Bożena has to give her sisters an answer to Edyta’s incessant demands, but what answer will it be? Which is the right thing to do? Hunt Grażyna and her son, as they have in the past? Or wait to see what happens?
She knows the legends, knows that any male born of them has the power to kill them all and end the
Dziwozony
. She has come here, to the edges of the forest, to think. The sisters, to their credit, have given her a wide berth.
She has asked Edyta and the others to give her a day to come up with a plan, and for once, they are obliging her. There's a possibility Edyta hopes she will fail, that she will make the wrong decision and present an opportunity for Edyta and the sisters who agree with her to take over the running of the tribe.
Edyta, she knows, wants to rule. Bożena has never ruled, only guided. As the oldest, she has seen more than the others, experienced more than the others. What she has never experienced, however, is a male being allowed to live.
She weighs the options. Grażyna has been out in the world with her son for decades now. It’s been so long they’ve lost track, but they sense him. He’s reached the age of maturity among humans. He will know their ways better than anyone. The sisters, on the other hand, have been avoiding the world. Grażyna would have the advantage.
Every legend Bożena knows, however, says any male permitted to live will rule the forest, indicating he will return to them. Would it not be better to face them on the ground the sisters know as theirs?
Grażyna left the forest, and the forest has changed in her absence. The male has never been here other than his birth. It makes sense for the sisters to wait and meet Grażyna and her son where the sisters are comfortable, and sure, and Grażyna and her boy will not be.
But here, away from her sisters, she can allow herself the worry. Letting Grażyna and her son come to the forest means allowing them close to Tadeusz, allowing them to bring danger here. To her home. To what and whom she cares about.
Not for the first time when she has too much on her mind, she dresses and begins the walk to catch a cab to Tadeusz’s flat. She never goes to him unexpectedly, but often she does this late at night — she goes to his flat and stands guard outside the building, as if she can protect him by simply standing there.
What would he do if she snuck into his bed like this? Would he be angry or welcome her presence? Sometimes she thinks he wants to ask her to give more, to stay with him, maybe even to marry him. In that, she envies Grażyna her freedom.
She would. She would marry Tadeusz if she could leave the sisters. She would live in a house and wear clothes and maybe have boy children she could keep and not kill.
But she is not Grażyna, and she will never marry or hold boy children in her arms. She is
Dziwozona
. She needs to do what's best for her sisters, not what she wants, even if she could tell Tadeusz what she is, even if he would understand why she never seems to age.
She stands outside his building, in the rain, and knows what they must do. They must meet Grażyna where they are sure they can win. They must let her come here. And Bożena knows that she — and her son — will.
Bożena formulates her plan without noticing the rain dripping down the back of her neck.
16: Introductions
But it's obvious from their encounter on the stairs that it has for her, and much as it pains him, he has to respect that.
He watches her walk into his room. She's been in here countless times, but she's acting like it's the first time, or like some kind of monster is lurking behind a door waiting to jump out at her. He waits for her to sit on the bed before grabbing his desk chair and pulling it over. He doesn't want to make her uncomfortable, but she looks a little disappointed in him. Because he doesn’t sit next to her on the bed? He’s never felt this awkward with her.
He pulls the chair as close to her as he dares and sits.
“Before I get started with this whole story, I want you to remember I’m still the same person you’ve always known. The only thing that’s different is I remember everything. I remember every day we’ve spent together. I remember you were the only person who befriended me. I remember you stuck by me no matter how many times I forgot who you were.
“You may be at least a little bit right when you say you don't really know me, but that's only my name. You know everything else about me that's important. I promise.”
“I don't know your
name
?”
Trust her to focus on the one facet he thought was the least important part of the whole thing.
He’s stilted when he begins dumping the basics at her, almost robotic in his rushed recitation.
“My given name isn't Vance; it's Jakub. My mother and I have been in hiding for a long time, and it's been important that we blend in while we were. Having names that sound the same as everyone else's is important. I haven't been called Jakub in so long that other than a few dreams, it's completely foreign to me.”
“But you spoke to me in … Was that Russian?”
“Polish. And yes. For a long while, even once we switched names, my mother and I spoke Polish at home. I didn't switch to speaking only English until we started altering my memory to help hide us further, and now, when everything feels so new, I may switch back and forth until I get used to everything. Please remind me if I forget and you don’t understand me.”
He watches her carefully. Each new piece of information will be harder for her to accept, he's sure, and he has to build up to the things she’ll struggle with more as well as know when to pause and give her a break. He doesn't want her to run. He’s not sure he can survive if she's afraid of him.
“So your name is Jakub, and you speak Polish, and you’re in some kind of danger, which is why you've been making yourself forget using some kind of barbaric old equipment and drugs. Where exactly did you get that ancient torture device?”
“I bought it when I was younger.”
He decides the lie here is better than the truth. Donovan already has a lot to process, and his mother’s procurement methods aren’t something he needs to add to that. Nor are they relevant, really.
“Well, I figured that much. I mean, who was selling it?”
“The original manufacturer.”
“That has to be illegal.”
“It wasn't when I bought it.”
“Please. That would have to have all sorts of government approval and —“
“Dee,” he interrupts, “when I say I bought it from the manufacturer when I was younger and that it wasn't illegal when I bought it, I mean it. There was no oversight of devices like that when I bought it.”
“Oh, please. Those things have been regulated for at least—”
"Not a hundred years ago they weren't."
The minute he says it, he wants to kick himself. So much for breaking all his news to her gradually to make sure she doesn't bolt.
“You’re trying to tell me you’re over a hundred …”
“Closer to 200, but I'm still me. Still exactly me. Nothing is any different about me than it was yesterday. You just know now that it takes a lot longer for me to grow up than even the most immature guy you knew before. For what I am, I’m still young. I was this old yesterday. It's just that neither of us knew it, and today we do.”