My Trojan Horse Majesty (The Russian Witch’s Curse #5)

11. Izzy

Chapter 11

Izzy

L eonid walks past me, snaking the dangling key out of my hand, and hops in the driver’s seat. “You coming, love?”

“Oh, no, no. I’m not going anywhere with you,” I say. “You need an English lesson.”

“Are you upset I took the keys?” He swivels back outward and half-slides off the driver’s seat. “You want to drive?”

“No, I said English lesson. Let me elaborate. When I say ‘an outfit cost me an arm and a leg,’ I don’t really mean that. I have both my arms, and I have both my legs.”

He frowns.

“And when I say ‘it’s raining cats and dogs outside,’ it isn’t really raining dogs or cats. That just means it’s raining a lot. I could also say the rain’s heavy. It would be unbearably grotesque if actual animals were falling from the sky.”

“Okay.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Get to your point here.”

“So when I say I’m so hungry I could eat a horse. . .” I pause.

“You aren’t really going to eat a horse.”

I nod. “Good. You do understand some things.”

“What are you so upset about?” Leonid asks. “Those men tried to shoot us—no, they did shoot us yesterday. If I hadn’t been protected by the end of my precautionary spell, we might have died then. And today, without my magic, which I was only able to access through you seconds before they fired a gun at us, we’d also both be dead.” He leans closer. “Tell me you understand that. The men I just roasted, they were very, very bad men who intended to do eminent harm to both you and me.”

“Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“What about fifty wrongs? At what point does eliminating the originator of those wrongs make a right?”

I’m shaking my head. “You don’t get to decide that. The government has to make that decision.”

“Did you not hear me? I’m the czar of Russia. I am the government.”

I scowl. “But not here you aren’t.”

“Actually, I still am the czar of Russia, even when I’m here. But take your phrase, the ‘cats and dogs’ one. It makes absolutely no sense. And similarly, two negatives do make a positive. Two wrongs being eliminated is right.” He stands. “In fact, in this world, the only thing you can do with two wrongs is right them.”

“Well, I’m not sure what to say about all that. You have a remarkable way with words for someone who learned English as a second language.”

“Fifth language,” he says. “My dad was certifiably nuts and thought I was destined to be the czar of Russia, so he taught me several in my infancy.”

Is he mocking himself? “I—I’m glad we didn’t die,” I say, lamely. “I just think—that was horrible, watching that.”

“I’m sorry,” Leonid says. “The next time I have to kill people, I’ll do it in a less messy way and just bury their bodies so far down in the earth that no one can ever find them.”

“You’ll—what?”

“The earth power’s new to me, so I was nervous I couldn’t do it without leaving a very noticeable mound of dirt. I didn’t want that leading to questions for you or your reprehensible boyfriend.”

“Your what power? What about Tim?” For some reason, it almost feels like he’s switched to Russian. But then something he said clicks. The next time he has to kill people. “Do you plan to kill more people?”

“It’s the most useful part of my magic,” he says. “Before, when I encountered evil people, I had to endure their wickedness. My only other option was to run away. Now, I can eliminate them and the threat they pose to the rest of society.”

“You’re saying you’re like a first strike strategy? Brutal, but the best way to keep people safe?”

He blinks. “First strike’s a reference to the cold war nuclear arms race.”

“It is,” I say. “The thought was that if we could hit them first, we’d be safe. Take out the bad guys before they could take us out.”

“I’m nothing like that,” Leonid says. “Those were threats—a plan of attack. I don’t threaten anyone. I simply eliminate the danger before they can harm innocent people, like you.”

I’m pretty sure my stepdad Steve would love this guy. “Well, in America, we believe in innocent until proven guilty.”

“So what does shooting us—twice—make them, if not guilty?”

I stomp around the side of the truck and get in. “Are you still going to give me money to bail Tim out?” Because frankly, after watching this guy incinerate two men, Tim feels like a Nobel-Prize-eligible bunny rabbit.

“Of course,” he says. “And I’m more encouraged than before by this turn of events. Now that I can access my powers again, even if it is only with your help, we’re clearly making progress. The next step is figuring out how we can do it so I no longer need you.”

“But right now, you believe you have to touch me to kill people?” That sounds. . .made up.

Actually, all of this sounds made up, so maybe that’s not a good barometer anymore. “Why are you driving?” I ask. “You don’t even know where we’re going.”

“Do you know?” he asks.

“A bank,” I say. “You didn’t specify whether we needed a certain one.”

“International,” he says. “My money will be arriving by foreign wire.”

“And how exactly are you going to get it?” I examine him. “Or did you sprout a wallet and identification card while I was busy watching those men burn?”

The curl of his lip makes his face look even more unbelievably beautiful, and that annoys me for some reason. “You certainly express your disapproval freely.” Leonid turns the key over and starts my truck. Only, as usual, it doesn’t start right away. “In this case, since you think I’m a crazy killer, I’d think you might keep your judgment under wraps.”

For some reason, Leonid doesn’t scare me. He probably should—he just incinerated two men—but he doesn’t. I’m more irritated at him than anything else. “You should let me drive my own truck. She’s temperamental.”

“The single best thing about the changes in the world from when I was born and now is that we no longer have to rely on temperamental creatures for our transportation. You need a new car. One that listens when you command it.”

“Command?” I chuckle. “What, are you a hundred years old?”

He grunts, for some reason.

“If you turn it just a little and then all the way and pump the gas pedal at the same time, it’ll start.”

He tries.

I mutter, “Usually.”

But just then, it finally roars to life. I pat the dash. “Atta girl, Rita.”

“Rita?”

“For margarita,” I say. “Never mind.”

He frowns.

“There’s a Bank of America about three miles from here.”

“Tell me where to turn.”

The rest of the drive, Leonid says nothing. In fact, he’s so intent on driving and the road that it’s almost alarming.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you hadn’t been driving very long.”

“I was a chauffeur for a while,” he says. “But I didn’t drive cars that could go quite this fast, so I’ve only been driving at this speed for a few years now.”

“What?” I ask. “Are cars in Russia slow?”

“Not now. But since becoming the czar, people act like I can’t drive myself. Before that, well, I drove myself places. . .sometimes.”

He’s a very odd man. Maybe it’s because he’s Russian. Even so, I can’t help sneaking a glance now and again. I may have spent most of my formative years in a town of five hundred, but I’ve met a lot of men since starting college. I even dated quite a few of them. Over all of them, Tim stood out as the handsomest. He has gleaming, wavy hair that falls around his face. His light, golden-brown eyes are somehow also commanding, and his broad face and athletic build made him a standout in every way. He’s also tall, at around six foot. That’s important to me, since I’m five eleven.

But Leonid—he makes Tim look shabby.

His hair’s immaculately cut, not a hair out of place, and it’s a half dozen shades of shining, golden blonde. It’s the kind of color that no one has without paying a fortune. I used to have hair that color, until it darkened as I aged. Now I have to pay for highlights like his. Something tells me he’s not paying to look the way he does. His eyes are a bright, vibrant shade of green I’m not sure I’ve ever seen, more like the grass in Easter egg baskets for children than anything I’ve seen in nature. His skin’s a deeper, brighter gold than a burnished apple or a rich autumn leaf, and it perfectly complements his hair. He looks. . .well, he looks like a cartoon drawing of a Prince Charming come to life.

No wonder our whole country’s lost their mind for him. In a world that grew up knowing that Disney princes didn’t exist, a young, handsome, rich one has turned up on our doorstep.

Or in my case, the driver’s seat of my car.

It’s a pity he’s a psycho.

Then again, those men were trying to kill us. “Here’s what I don’t understand. If they wanted to collect money from us, why did they try to shoot us?” I ask. “Oh, make a right turn here.”

He does.

“Because it’s not like they can collect any money for their boss if they kill the people who owe him, right?”

“Ah, but we didn’t owe them,” Leonid says. “Your dear, beloved boyfriend owes them for who knows what. Killing us would send him the necessary message. Pay up, or lose something else, something more valuable.”

“I guess.” I’m not sure Tim would see losing me as a huge hit right now. He’s in prison, and it’s been days, and I’ve done nothing to get him out. “Turn left at the next light, and it’s around the corner.”

I should’ve just told Steve and Mom I needed money. Maybe they’d have been more reasonable than I thought. Maybe they’d have loaned it to me right away. Maybe then, I wouldn’t be shackled to this nut with some kind of invisible magic harness.

“What are your powers exactly?” I ask.

But we’ve just pulled into the parking lot of the Bank of America, and even more than learning about his powers, I’m really hoping that he can make good on his claim to wire me the money I need.

“You know what?” I put my hand on the door handle. “Tell me later. Get me money now. That’ll feel like a massive superpower already.”

“So you’re more of a gold-digger than a superhero fangirl.” Leonid’s chuckling as he hops out of the car.

“World’s least successful gold-digger,” I mutter. “Net worth of negative two horses and one horse-man pyro.”

“Don’t forget this truck that barely starts.”

“Hey, Rita’s seen me through some things,” I say. “Don’t diss Rita.”

“Diss?” He frowns, but I don’t have time to get into that one.

There’s no line to see a teller, so we walk right up to the counter. “I have a weird thing to ask,” I say. “This guy.” I toss my thumb in his direction. “Has a lot of money, but he has no identification.”

“I need to access an international account,” Leonid says. “I have the requisite codes and passwords, and I’ll pay the one percent surcharge gladly.”

The short man with the blocky glasses shoves them up his nose. “Let me grab my manager.”

Three minutes later, we’re being waved to the back. Four minutes later, the ‘manager’ is tugging her blouse down just a little more, and I’m worried that if she sneezes, we’ll be meeting both her ladies up close and personal. “Okay,” I say. “Do you know what he’s talking about with the passcodes and whatnot?”

The woman doesn’t even look at me. “Can I just say, Your Majesty, that I am a huge fan?” She literally bats her eyelashes. I thought that was a joke. I didn’t think any woman actually did it. I’ve been wrong a lot today, it seems.

Because, blessedly, in addition to flirting criminally, she is completely fine pulling up whatever he needs without any identification. “Here.” The woman clacks away on a laptop, and then she swivels it around. “I’m assuming you can login here?”

I watch as Leonid toggles something into a language in which I know not a single letter. “Da.” He grins.

The woman giggles.

The thirty-something bank manager giggles.

I wonder if she’d giggle the same way if she had just watched—and smelled—him flambé two men. Doubtful. Magic is far less, well, magical than I’d been led to believe. It’s a lot more messy, scary, and disgusting than the children’s stories I’ve read led me to believe.

“I think my part is done.” Leonid swivels the laptop back around.

“Did I mention that I’m just a huge fan?” The woman’s not even looking at the laptop. “If there is anything I can do for you, Your Majesty, anything at all, please ask.”

“I did ask.” Leonid’s brow furrows.

“Excuse me?” Her eyes fill with hope. “You did?”

He looks pointedly at the laptop. “That’s what I need help with right now.”

She blushes. “Right. Of course, but anything else, and I’m just as happy to help.” She leans toward him, thrusting her jiggling ladies closer.

“Oh, please. Have some dignity,” I say. “You’re making all women look bad.”

The woman glares, sits up straight, and looks down at the laptop. Then she squints. “You want to send this. . .” She looks up. “Where?”

Leonid glances at me. “You’ll have to give her your account information now.”

“Wait, you’re sending it to me?” I frown. “Can’t you just, like, put it in a cashier’s check?”

“Made out to whom? The local jail?” Leonid rolls his eyes. “It’s going to be transferred over to you, and then you can use it for whatever you choose.”

“You can write your information down here.” The woman hands me a deposit slip.

I hate how dumb I feel. “Write what, exactly?”

“Do you bank with us?” She’s talking to me, but still glancing back at Leonid at odd intervals and shooting him awkward little smiles.

“I do,” I say. “That’s why I knew this bank location was here.”

“Great.” Her forced smile’s frightening. “Then you know what to write. Account number and routing.” She waves her hand.

Leonid leans closer to me, murmuring. “Darling, after we leave here, should we grab something to eat?” His breath tickles my ear.

Darling ?

I open my mouth to tell him where he can stick his darling, but he’s looking at me intently. Just beyond his face, out of the corner of my eye, I see the woman, her mouth dangling open, watching us.

“Are you two together ?” She swallows. “Because I heard you were single.”

“My sweet Isabel’s very private.” Leonid catches her eye. “I trust you can keep our secret.”

She inhales, sharply, and then she nods.

I hand her the deposit slip, my account number and routing written down.

“This is you?” She frowns. “Isabel Brooks?”

I nod.

She shakes her head slowly, and then she says. “Well, alright.”

A moment later, she presses some buttons and I hear a small printer whirring. She whips the paper off and hands it to me. “This shows your current account balance.”

I stand up and incline my head. “Thanks for your help.”

“Yes, we appreciate it.” Leonid drops an arm around my shoulders. “More than you know.” His smile doesn’t look as forced.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, as we’re finally walking out of her small office. The bank exit’s in sight.

“When we’re touching, even through clothing, I can access my powers. All of them.” His smile widens. “It’s—I’ve missed it.”

“Yes, I imagine that not having the ability to fricassee other humans is a little worrisome.”

He pulls my key out of his pocket with his free hand and finally releases me, walking toward the driver’s side.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you let me drive?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, I find that I quite like chaperoning you around.”

“I think you mean chauffeuring.”

“Does chauffeuring mean that I’m monitoring the people you choose to trust and help?” He lifts both eyebrows.

“No,” I say. “It means you’re giving me a ride.”

“Since this is your car, and since I’m not just driving you around, I’d like to stick with my original word.”

“I don’t need a chaperone. It’s not eighteen-ninety-eight.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Leonid says. “I’d barely be born.”

What?

“Here.” We’re in front of the truck, and he has just opened my door.

“I can open my own door.” I bump his hand away.

“This isn’t done anymore when two people are courting?”

Courting? “What’s with the weird comments about what’s done now?” I sigh and push past him into the truck. “Everyone else in the country may be in love with you, but I’m not. I’m also starting to think you’re really, really weird.”

“Let’s just say that it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date. I’m not really sure what people on one do anymore.”

I stiffen. “We aren’t on a date, Leo. We’re headed to jail to help my boyfriend, remember?”

“Leo?” He smiles. “I like that. And I know where we’re going. I just take issue with the word boyfriend .”

“Your issues notwithstanding,” I say, “you don’t really get a say in my love life.”

“Yet.” The stupidly hot guy’s smiling now. He’s smiling as he makes jokes about how he and I are dating.

“Stop that right now.” I jab a finger at him. “If you make any jokes like that in the prison, I’ll?—”

He catches my hand in his large one. “What will you do?” His verdant green eyes meet mine. “Tell me. Please. Leo’s listening.”

“Leo—it’s not a special pet name. No one uses the name Leonid here. Leo sounds more natural. And—” I snatch my hand away, but in doing so, my deposit slip thing flutters to the floor of the truck. I reach down and pick it up, grateful for the distraction. He’s being really, really intense, and it’s freaking me out.

Or maybe what’s bothering me most is that my heart’s racing.

He’s too handsome for me, and I know he was kidding earlier to get that crazy lady to back off, but I almost liked when he pretended we were dating, and I have a boyfriend .

I’m also not used to people flirting with me, especially very hot, very powerful men doing it. Actually, I’m not sure who would be used to guys like Leonid flirting with them. Maybe a woman on the set of The Vampire Diaries or something. I start to stuff the paper in my purse, but something about it catches my eye.

“Wait.” I lift the crumpled slip closer to my face. “Why does this say. . .” I blink twice. Then I hold it even closer.

“What?” He leans toward me.

“You transferred half a million dollars into my account?”

“A hundred for the bail,” he says. “But the rest is for a new car and whatever else we might need. You may have forgotten, but I don’t have my wallet.”

“Whatever else?” He’s a psycho for sure. “What else might we need that would cost four hundred thousand dollars?”

“If I’ve learned anything lately, it’s that you often don’t know what you need until it’s too late. I’m accustomed to a certain quality of life, and I like to be prepared.”