The Silver Thread (20 page)

“What can I say, Patti Cake? I’m good with my hands,” Talvi replied and sat back as he swirled his wine in his glass. “But you must keep this secret to yourself. The same goes for Chivanni. I would hate to have to erase your memory of this if you become too chatty. It’s not as tidy as one might think.” He looked pleased with himself, to say the least, when Patti nodded vigorously. Annika was dying to ask him what he knew about altering people’s memories, but she felt that Patti had been exposed to enough non-human events for one evening.

“How was your visit to the museum?” she asked Patti instead, helping herself to the dish of sweet potato enchiladas.

“Oh, it was fun,” Patti replied, eyeing Chivanni and Talvi strangely as she spooned some sour cream onto her plate with her healed right hand. “There was an exhibit about virginity that was pretty interesting. I had no idea that there are women who have themselves surgically altered up in there so they can become ‘re-virginized’ later on.”

“Sounds like a blast,” said James, sticking out his tongue in disgust as he cut his dinner into pieces. “Don’t most people try to make it a point to get ‘
de
-virginized’? I know I did.”

“There was a handmade book that catalogued that, too,” Charlie said with his mouth full. “Most of the stories were pretty boring. Some were really sad. Some were totally weird.”

“What’s weird to you?” James asked.

“I guess it depends who you’re asking,” Charlie shrugged, still chewing. “Some people might think my story is weird, but some might not.”

“Why don’t you tell me, and I’ll be the judge,” James said, and reached for his glass of Shiraz.

“It was with a neighbor of ours, back when we still lived in Germany,” he said after he swallowed the mouthful of enchiladas, avoiding his sister’s eyes. “She always asked me to come over and help her with odd jobs around the house. I was totally clueless.”

“Who was it?” Annika asked. “I knew all our neighbors in Germany.”

“Frau Schmidt, down the street.”

“But you mowed her lawn!” his sister cried in shock.

“Tell me about it,” Charlie said, and shoved another huge forkful of enchiladas in his mouth so he wouldn’t have to elaborate.

“I guess her husband wasn’t cutting it, was he?” James asked, lifting his fork to his lips.

“I guess not,” said Annika, still surprised at her brother’s confession. “My first time was with my high school boyfriend,” she said and took a drink of wine. “I would stop by the practice rooms after his symphony rehearsals.”

“You said you were taking lessons!” Charlie accused, covering his mouth so the food in it wouldn’t go flying out. “Mom and dad were even going to buy you a violin!”

“You seem to have a recurring fascination for men with bows,” Talvi teased.

“I guess I do, huh?” she said and smiled at him before turning to James. “What about you? I can’t believe I don’t know your story by now.”

“My first was the cutest barista at a coffee shop in Brooklyn. I found out his schedule and used to walk fifteen minutes out of my way, just so he could make me a friggin’ cup of coffee. I think it was a month before I finally asked for his number.”

“Did he steam your latte?” Patti asked with a snort.

“Oh, he did a lot more than that,” James chuckled. “I wish I’d met him sooner.”

“Oh really?” Patti asked. “I ended up waiting until my third year of college. For one of my art history classes, we spent an afternoon at the art museum and we got to see all the cool stuff they keep in the basement when it’s not being displayed. Our docent was a total hunk, and we kept checking each other out. When it was time to leave, I told him that I thought I left my notebook in the basement, and…well, you know that ancient Roman sarcophagus we saw today?”

“You did it on that?” hooted Charlie. “No wonder you like the museum so much.” Patti stuck out her tongue at him.

“Trust me, it sounds way more awesome than it really was,” she assured everyone. “Marble is really cold, and not comfortable at all. What about you, Chivanni? Any fairy tales worth cataloguing for art’s sake?”

“I don’t kiss and tell,” he said, brushing his long bangs to the side of his face. An impish look had entered his cinnamon-brown eyes. “But Talvi’s story is definitely worth cataloguing.”

“Chivanni, you know this isn’t in my repertoire of the tales I tell,” he replied, casting an annoyed look toward his friend. “I’ll opt out of this, if I may.”

“If it was a bad experience, you don’t have to share it,” said Patti.

“It wasn’t bad at all,” he said, shifting awkwardly in his chair. “But it isn’t very…it’s not exceptionally…it’s just not prudent.” He took a bite of his food so he wouldn’t have to explain himself.

“
You’re
worried about being prudent?” Chivanni squeaked.

“There’s nothing about this conversation that
is
prudent,” James pointed out.

“Are you afraid that I’ll get upset?” Annika asked, eager to learn more about her new husband. “Because I won’t. I really don’t mind hearing your story, if you don’t mind sharing it.”

“Honestly, it was so long ago, I barely remember anything about my first experience,” Talvi said, playing with his hair slightly.

“Spare us your lies,” Chivanni said with a naughty grin. If Talvi hadn’t wanted the attention, he certainly had it now. He couldn’t ignore the expectant faces all looking at him. He set down his fork, swirled the wine in his glass, and looked carefully at his fingernails, smiling sheepishly to himself.

“It was the Samodivi of the East,” he finally admitted with a sigh.

“Sam
who
?” James gasped. “Is that why you didn’t want Annika to hear this?” Talvi snickered a little and shook his head, still looking at his nails.

“Not Sam.
Samodivi
. Wood nymphs,” Chivanni explained for everyone’s benefit.

“Nymphs? Like,
plural
?” Charlie asked, still looking quite surprised. Talvi nodded and lifted his head.

“Seven of them, to be precise.”

“Shut up!” Charlie exclaimed in disbelief.

“You’re so full of crap,” Patti accused, rolling her eyes.

“Seven? But how?” Annika wondered aloud, her curiosity peaked. Talvi took a drink of his wine and continued to swirl the glass ever so slowly in his hand.

“I’d been riding east for a week, running an errand for my brother. I was supposed to be returning some books for him, or so he claimed. Anyhow, I stopped to take a nap under a sycamore tree and when I woke up, my arms and legs were bound tight.”

“They tied you up?” James asked. There was a twinge of envy in his voice.

“Yes, and then they spirited me away to their little cottage in the woods.” He stopped abruptly and covered his face with his hand. “Oh, this is so ridiculous. In all my years, I’ve only told this story to a small handful of trusted souls.” He removed his hand to reveal a brightly blushing countenance, and took another long drink from the glass in his other hand, finishing it.

“Keep going. This is some good stuff. You know, for art’s sake,” Patti urged him, and her brown eyes watched him with fascination. Talvi took a deep breath as James filled his wine glass again.

“Well, they kept me tied up in their cellar, and they said the only way they would set me free is if I could learn to please every single one of them. And there being seven of the lasses, and myself being an inexperienced lad, that’s a daunting task, believe me.”

“Are you kidding?” Charlie said in awe. “That’s like every man’s dream!”

“Not every man’s,” James corrected him, but he was clearly as mesmerized as everyone else as he leaned a little closer to the storyteller.

“It wasn’t a dream, it was damn near impossible,” Talvi said, and a more relaxed grin spread across his face as he settled back comfortably in his chair. “The cellar was so bloody dark that I could scarcely see what I was doing. And their little game was quite misleading. They kept me tied up, so I had nothing to please them with but my mouth. When I succeeded at that, I was rewarded with a little food and brandy, but they refused to let me go. They had tricked me into staying. They only freed my right hand; my weaker hand, and forced me to learn that way as well. Again, I only received nourishment after I had completed that second task, and yet they refused to give me my freedom. After that, I was allowed the use of both of my hands, but my legs were still bound. It wasn’t until the last samodiva gave her approval that they agreed to completely untie me. They gathered in the cellar and told me to choose which one of them I had enjoyed the most.” Annika’s eyes were nearly falling out of her head in anticipation, along with everyone else’s.

“So out of seven wild wood nymphs, which one did you choose?” James hissed. “The prettiest, I suppose? Or the feistiest? Jeez, how did you decide?”

“Well, they were all quite lovely in their own ways. It was impossible for me to favor one over another, so after being surrounded by those charms for over a week whilst tied up in that dark cellar, what do you think I did?” he asked his audience with a shrug of sincere nonchalance. “I chose all seven.”

There was such a thick haze of silence around the table; it could only have been cut with the newly purchased electric saw. It clung like an erotic fog, entrapping all the listeners in the incredible, fantastic tale. Annika played the vivid story over in her mind, imagining him being devoured by seven wild wood nymphs, seeing him taste and touch and experience all of them at once, and was surprised that her heart was pumping just a little harder than before. She glanced over at Patti, who had covered her mouth with her hands. Even James had taken off his glasses and lit a cigarette.

There was a loud chime and everyone was jolted back to reality as Patti dug into her back pocket to retrieve her cell phone.

“Oh crap,” she groaned, reading a text message before she snapped the phone shut and rushed to the door. “I’m late for work! Dinner was delicious, Chivanni. Thanks again!” She threw on her heavy cardigan and within a matter of seconds, she and Charlie were racing out the door.

Chivanni turned his mischievous little smile over to Annika.

“If it was so delicious, why did you only eat three bites?”

“Oh, I ate something before I came home,” she said. “I’m sorry Chivanni; I’ll just save it for later. It’s really good though.”

“I could have sworn you told me you were rather hungry when you came home today,” Talvi said, eyeing her curiously.

“I guess I wasn’t thinking straight. It was a little chaotic when I came home today. I had some Chinese earlier and I’m still pretty full,” Annika said.

“I thought you were out clucking with hens, not going for Chinese without me,” he pouted. “I’ve been craving ma po tofu for the longest time.”

Annika glanced into the living room at the box with the rainbow skirt sitting on top.

“Since I was in the neighborhood, I stopped by Danny’s to pick up the rest of my things,” she said, and smiled at Talvi as she pushed back her chair and stood up. He looked at the box and then back at her skeptically.

“So you mean to tell me that it took you all day to collect that parcel from him? Because James told me that it typically only takes you an hour and a half to get your hair done.”

“Leave me the hell out of this,” James sang, and stubbed out his after-dinner cigarette.

“He doesn’t live far from Mom’s place, and since I was in the neighborhood, I decided to stop by and pick up a few things and we figured out when I could get that blood work done,” she said casually, and began to gather the dinner plates from around the table and help Chivanni put away the leftovers. She wasn’t exactly thrilled to learn that her husband had coerced James to go so far into debt, and she was expecting his story at dinner to be cute or awkward like the rest of them. She wasn’t expecting to hear a mind-blowing account of a week-long orgy with seven beautiful, feisty wood nymphs. Annika wasn’t feeling too guilty about her visit with Danny.

“I fail to understand how ‘stopping by’ your former lover’s home becomes an all-day rendezvous,” Talvi said coolly, folding his arms across his chest.

“I have no doubt you do.”

His eyes narrowed, but the spat with his wife was put on pause as Charlie came in and plopped down into the chair next to him.

“Patti thinks she’s going to get fired,” he announced. “This is the third time in a month that she’s been over a half hour late.”

“They can’t fire Patti; she’s awesome!” Annika said as she filled the sink with warm water. “Why do you think the managers call her ‘Party Patti’? She’s the only server I know who can run a twenty-top and not make one mistake, and she turns and burns them like a wildfire. I always hated large parties.”

“Yeah, but the day she burned her hand, they were really counting on her,” Charlie said, turning around in his chair to face her. “They had three large reservations they were expecting on her to take care of single handedly, but they didn’t mean it literally.”

“That was an accident,” Annika said, adding dish soap to the water. “Those kinds of things happen.”

“Yeah, but she got written up for being behind the line. You know the servers aren’t allowed back there with the cooks.”

“She got written up for that?” Annika said angrily as she made her way back to the table. “She got hurt on the job and then got written up for it?”

“Yep. She’s been written up twice now. It’s some new manager. I think he’s worried about workman’s comp or something.”

“What was the other write-up for?”

“Her second warning for being half an hour late.”

“Jeez. If she gets written up tonight, that’s probably it,” Annika sighed irritably.

“I guess we’ll see,” Charlie said, trying to be optimistic, but his typical grin was missing.

The firelight flickered on Sariel’s face as she stared into the flames in disbelief. She knew it was futile to try and search for a teenage girl dressed in white during a blizzard when there were no tracks to follow her by. Being a druid, Denalia must have shape-shifted into an eagle or an owl and taken flight, but Sariel was astounded that the girl had outsmarted her and her traveling companions. Or perhaps she wasn’t very smart at all, to be flying around during a blizzard, when she had been blindfolded and had no sense of where she was. Her odds were slim to none, and it had been decided that there was no way she would be alive within a few short hours.

The samodiva, the paladin and the vampire had kept on their original course towards the dense forest, and just as they had hoped, it offered a wonderful shelter from the storm. They had gathered enough firewood on their way into the woods to get an impressive fire burning, but for heat that would last through the night, they needed some fair-sized logs. Pavlo had gone in search of just that, along with some warm-blooded dinner of his own. His strength had come back slowly, one woodland creature at a time, but it was nothing like it had once been.

She had bundled up in furs and wools while Justinian set about making dinner. Even though it was just another serving of vegetable stew with a piece of bread and some dried fruit, Sariel’s mouth watered as if it were a grand Yule feast.

“Justinian…” she began, not sure how to say what she was needed to say. She had only had this conversation four other times in her life, and it had been centuries since then.

“Sariel…” he mimicked as he knelt down to add a little more snow to the stew, gave the vegetables a stir with his huge muscled arm, and then covered them to simmer. When she didn’t respond, he looked up at her. “What is it, Sariel?”

“You do know the legend of the samodivi, don’t you?”

Sariel asked, and immediately started criticizing herself. That’s not what she meant to say.

“Of course I do,” he said, wondering why she looked so serious. “One would have to live in a cave not to have heard that legend.”

“It is said that a man must steal a samodiva’s clothes in order for her to marry him, however, that is not completely accurate. It is a more polite way of saying—”

“I know what it means,” Justinian interrupted, grinning a little as he picked ice out of his long black braid. “I may be human, and not nearly the age that you are, but I am well aware of how the world works.”

“Then you know what happens sometimes when clothes go missing,” she stated.

“Sariel,” Justinian said, kneeling beside her, “I have been traveling with you for four months now, and you have never been this indirect. What is it that you’re trying to say?”

“I thought perhaps I was only fatigued by traveling so far in such deep snow, but after today I’m sure of it.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I’m carrying your child.”

Justinian was silent for a moment, but his eyes were still smiling. Sariel kept waiting for him to frown, but he didn’t. She kept waiting for him to object, but he wouldn’t.

“That does make things easier, in a way…” was what he said.

“What?” Sariel asked, looking confused. “I’ve already raised three daughters on my own. How does this make anything easier?”

“I have been trying to ‘steal your clothes’, so to speak, since we began this mission. Being that it’s winter, I have been required by practicality to let you keep them,” he admitted, gazing fondly at her. “I planned to ask you when the weather was warmer, but if I’ve already given you a child, it makes it easier for me to ask you to be my wife.”

“Your wife?” repeated Sariel. Justinian snickered a little.

“I’m already on my knees,” he said, smiling again as he reached into her blankets and took her hand. “If you are willing to remain human to have a family with me, I am willing to risk that you might one day change your mind and cross over to become a samodiva again.”

“I won’t change my mind,” Sariel said in all seriousness.

“I’m not questioning your honor, my dear.” Justinian said patiently. “I know you left your human life behind when your first husband left this world. You brought your daughters home to the safest place you knew of, and you raised them well. I am simply saying that I am aware of your ancient history, and I would like to spend the rest of my life adding to it.”

Sariel was quiet for a few moments. In all her years, there were only ever two men that had ever intrigued her enough to win her respect and her heart. One was returned to the gods nearly a millennia ago. One sat before her now. Was it finally time to lay down her sword of vengeance and hold something even more precious in her arms? The men who had murdered her husband had been the reason she had lost her fourth child, an unborn son. They had died a merciless death under her vengeful actions, but their lives hadn’t quelled Sariel’s anger. She used to daydream what kind of man her son would have grown up to become, had he survived. She even had a name for him, an ancient name as old as the gods, a name that had never been spoken aloud. She used to imagine that one day his spirit would try being born again, but there was never a man virtuous enough in Sariel’s eyes to help her try.

Until now.

“If you want more time to consider, I understand,” Justinian said, bringing Sariel back to the present moment.

“No, time is one thing that I have had perhaps too much of,” she said. “I think I deserve to enjoy and savor the rest of my life, and I think I would like to do that with you and our son.”

“What makes you so certain it’s a son that’s on the way?” Justinian grinned, barely able to contain himself at Sariel’s response.

“I can’t explain why; I can only feel it,” she said, smiling back. “But if we want to know for certain, there are some old friends of mine that I could ask. How convenient that they happen to live on the way to my home.”

“I cannot think of any other place I would rather travel to.” Justinian said, and dished up dinner for himself and his soon to be wife.