Chapter 12
12
KATERINA
I n shock, she and Niko walked the length and breadth of Drezna, unable to believe it had vanished. They stared into the depths of the crater, and the Darkness stared back at them. It whispered to Katerina, hissing her name.
For all she knew, she was staring into the Void, the vacuum from which the Darkness originated. A shard of it lived within each of the Grigori, its evil powering them. She had never seen it like this before: ink-black smoke, swirling free, a residue of demonic assault.
By the time they were done, Katerina’s leg ached so badly she could hardly stand. They had found no survivors. It was as if that awful crater had swallowed the village whole.
“The portal to the demon realms lies outside the village limits,” Katerina said at last, as they stood again at the precipice. “But somehow, the Grigori must have come out of the earth here. That sound we heard before they attacked us…I’m sure it was the destruction of Drezna. What other explanation can there be?”
Niko shrugged. It was an odd, uncomfortable movement, as if his shirt had suddenly become too tight. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll tell you what I do know, though.” He raised a hand, ticking off his points one by one. “You’re injured. Night is falling. We’re alone, without our horses. Trouble is here, and in our road. We need shelter. And to heal you as best we can.”
Katerina nodded, the movement jerky. “But not here, Niko. I don’t care if Baba Volkova’s house is still standing. I can’t…I can’t stay here.”
“Agreed.” His mouth set in a grim line, and his jaw clenched as he gazed down into the pit. “The healers’ cottage may be gone, but Baba will have medicinals. We’ll patch you up and take what we need, and then we’ll leave this place.”
Predictably, Niko wouldn’t let her enter Baba Volkova’s cottage until he’d gone over every inch of it for threats. She waited, leaning against the wooden siding to take the weight off her leg, her eyes roving over the silvered runes painted on the eaves, the trim around the windows and doors. They were meant to be a defensive layer against demonic invasion, and they had held; Baba’s house stood, when so many had been lost. But Baba herself was nowhere to be found. She must have run for the center of the conflict, despite her advanced age. She’d fought for Drezna, and died defending it.
At least Sofi and Damien had survived, safe in Rivki—though ‘safe’ was a relative term. Katerina had never been grateful for the existence of the Bone Trials before—but because of them, her friends lived, when so many others had fallen. Their home was destroyed, though, their families gone. What if she and Niko returned to Kalach, only to find it had met the same fate? Pressing her hand against the strength rune that twined around the doorframe, Katerina suppressed a shudder.
At last, Niko loomed up in the doorway. “No Grigori have been inside,” he said, his dark brows knitted. “I found Baba’s medicines and some food to replace what we lost in the saddlebags. Come in, Katerina, and let’s be done with this.”
Katerina followed him inside and instructed him as to what she needed. Then she lit a taper and sat on one of Baba’s high-backed chairs, trying to hold back the wave of sadness that threatened to swamp her. “Niko,” she said as he set willowbark to brewing on the stove and mashed garlic, ginger, and echinacea into a paste under her direction, “so many of our friends. Tanya, Alexandr, Sasha, Leonid…gone. How can this be?”
“I don’t know.” His face was white to the lips as he knelt in front of her and undid the tourniquet, taking the candle from the table so he could get a better look at the wound. “A clean gash,” he said, and she could tell he was fighting to keep his voice dispassionate. “It doesn’t smell of infection, Katya. And the bleeding’s stopped. Tell me what I need to do.”
A quarter-hour later, she was freshly bandaged and full of willowbark tea, to fortify her against the pain. She’d insisted on spreading the healing herbs along the cuts on Niko’s arms, too, and though he’d argued with her that it was unnecessary, he allowed it. Katerina thought he could see that she needed desperately to find some way—any way—to be of use.
Biting her lip, she limped to Baba Volkova’s bedroom and lifted an armband bearing the elder Dimi’s sigil from the dresser. “For Baba Petrova,” she said to Niko, who was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded and one dark eyebrow quirked. “For remembrance. And for proof.”
“You think we’re going to need to prove what happened?” There was a quiet fury in his voice as he put an arm around her and guided her to the door. “I think the giant crater with Darkness swirling at the bottom of it, along with the trail of animal and demon corpses, speak for themselves.”
I want proof that my feelings for you didn’t cause this, Katerina wanted to say. Proof that something– anything— else is to blame. But voicing such a thought would be unthinkable, and so she made no reply.
They camped that night in a grove of rowan trees, as far from Drezna as Niko deemed Katerina fit to walk. She wanted to protest, but it was pointless: she’d refused to let him carry her again, knowing that compromised their defenses, and each step sent a bolt of pain shooting through her leg. By the time she sank onto the bed of ferns that Niko had hacked from the plants that grew at the base of the rowan trees, she was trembling all over.
He regarded her with concern. “Should I cut some of these limbs for the fires, Katya? Or can you?—”
Katerina drew herself up, trying to summon her usual confidence. Seeing her compromised like this was troubling her Shadow, and that simply wouldn’t do. “I’m injured, not broken,” she said, her tone haughty. “Stand by me, out of the way.”
He came to her side as she said a brief prayer to the spirits of the trees: For your life, that we may live, we are thankful. Then she closed her eyes and called the wind. It rose to her hand, and the limbs of the rowans splintered and fell. Niko gathered them, stacking them in piles that formed a wide circle with Katerina at its epicenter. Then he stood back and she set them aflame.
Niko dug in the leather satchel he’d brought from Baba Volkova’s cottage, coming up with the potatoes he’d found in her pantry. Once he’d gotten them roasting, he dug a silver flask out of the satchel and extended it to Katerina. “Drink.”
“What is it?” she said, eyeing the flask suspiciously. She wouldn’t put it past him to have crumbled some sleeping herbs into it; he could recognize those easily enough, and she knew he wanted her to rest.
“Kvass,” he said. “You need it.”
Her leg throbbed, and her body trembled with exhaustion. “Fine,” she said, snatching the flask from him and taking a gulp. The liquor scorched her throat and settled, warm, in her belly. Tossing back her hair, she took another sip. Then a third.
She might’ve drained the whole thing, had Niko not wrested it from her hands. “Don’t be greedy, Katya,” he said, tilting the flask back to his own lips. “I’ve had a hard day.”
By the flickering light of the fires, she could see the long line of his throat move as he swallowed. It was a thing of beauty, and she had to look away so he wouldn’t catch her staring.
He thrust the flask into her hand, and they took turns drinking until he pulled the potatoes out of the fire. Katerina stifled a giggle as he bit into one and let out a stifled cry of pain. “My tongue,” he muttered, glaring at the potato like it had done something to offend him. “Those are hot, Katya. Watch out.”
“Duly noted,” she said, amused that his need to protect her extended even to potatoes. “Here.” She sent a small wind out, blowing over the surface of the root vegetables, cooling them. “Try it now.”
Niko obliged, and let out a small sound of appreciation. “Much better. Don’t let Baba Petrova know your talents extend to the culinary, Dimi mine. She’ll have you in the kitchen before you know what’s happened to you. I can hear her now: Develop stronger discipline for the things you believe are beneath you, Katerina. ”
Katerina smiled, as he’d clearly meant her to do. But she couldn’t help but think of what they would tell Baba Petrova when they finally made it back to Kalach. Unless riders passed them on the road, she and Niko would likely be the first to bring the news of what had happened to Drezna. Unless they should?—
She fidgeted, and Niko, who’d finished eating and was leaning back on his hands, glanced over at her. “Are you all right?”
“I just—you don’t think we should go back to Rivki, do you? And tell the Kniaz what’s happened? Not to mention poor Sofi and Damien?”
Niko considered this, tilting his head to gaze up at the moon. Finally he said, “No. I want to go home. Besides, the Kniaz will find out soon enough. And you know what they say about shooting the messenger.” He ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowing. “As for Sofi and Damien, there’s nothing they can do. Let them have a few final moments of peace, before they have to reckon with the loss of everything and everyone they love.”
Relief permeated every fiber of Katerina’s body. “Agreed,” she said.
“Good.”
Silence fell between them, broken only by the crackle of the fires’ blaze. Katerina forced herself to eat, stuffing bits of potato into her mouth. She’d rarely felt less hungry, but she’d used a lot of her magic today and needed to replenish her energy stores. If she didn’t, she’d risk draining Niko too. Her body would pull energy from his to sustain itself, and he would give it, until there was nothing left.
She gulped down the final bite, and he busied himself with pulling a blanket out of the satchel and setting their small campsite to rights. “Niko,” she said to his back, “what in the name of all the Saints do you think happened? There were so many of them. And the Darkness—it was like it had gotten loose from inside the Grigori somehow. As if it had taken on a life of its own.”
The night was mild, with just a slight bite to it, but still she wrapped her arms around herself, remembering her hopelessness when she’d been lying there, before Niko had blazed up with Light and saved them both. “I felt so cold,” she said. “As if I would never be warm again. As if I’d lost you forever.”
He was poking up one of the rowan-fires, but at this, he turned and made his way back to her. He knelt beside her, crushing the ferns. Their sharp green scent drifted up to her as he held her eyes with his own.
“You could never lose me, Katya. Do you understand? I’m yours. Always.”
She struggled to contain the shiver that rolled through her. “The cold…the Darkness… Did you feel it too?”
Slowly, as if it cost him to make the admission, he nodded. “Our bond—it was like it had been cut in half. I’ve never felt pain like that. I feared you were dead. I couldn’t see you, Katya. I couldn’t see anything. And then the Light burst from me. I thought for an instant it was your fire, that you’d called it, but it didn’t taste of your magic. I think…I think it was because there were so many of them. I stood there and I burned and then—they came.”
This time, when the shiver took her, she didn’t fight it, and Niko’s eyes narrowed. “Are you cold?”
“No,” she said automatically, but he was already picking up the blanket and tucking it around her. When she shuddered again, he lay down next to her, curving his body around hers. Cocooning her.
“Let it go, Katya,” he said into her hair. “Let it out.”
All her fear, all her rage, rolled through her body, shaking her from head to toe. He simply held her, murmuring into her hair that he had her, that she was safe, that for now at least, it was over.
Niko had never held her like this. She had dreamed of it for so long, imagined how all of his coiled strength, his focused intensity, would translate in a touch, a kiss. She longed to feel what it would be like for him to lose all of his control in her arms, to send her witchfire licking along his skin until he came apart.
But that…that might be the end of everything.
She shook harder, and Niko’s arms tightened around her. “I have you, Katya.” His voice was gravelly, rough. “I will protect you to my last breath.”
Speaking of breath, she could feel his on the nape of her neck, a warm, tickling sensation that sent a hot flush trickling through her. Her heartbeat quickened, her body quaking along the length of his, and behind her, Niko went stock-still. He shifted, creating a small space between their bodies, and Katerina was glad he couldn’t see the blush that heated her cheeks. Surely he would be horrified if he knew what she was thinking right now, when his only intention was to keep her safe. If he knew that just maybe, her feelings for him were responsible for what had happened in Drezna.
“I know you will,” she managed. There was nothing she could do about how husky her voice sounded; with luck, he would attribute that to the smoke from the fires.
“You fought with honor today, Katya. You fought with valor.” His fingers touched her hair, brushing it away from her face. They trembled, and Katerina worried that he was more undone by what had happened than he was letting on. She tried to turn to face him, but he held her still. “You have leaves and twigs here. If I may…?”
Wordless, she nodded, and his fingers combed through her tangled waves, his touch deft despite the slight tremor. To her shame, the sensation was relaxing and sensual all at once. She couldn’t suppress the purr that moved through her, and Niko froze, startled. His fingers paused in her hair. “Do…do you want me to stop?” he said, his voice a hint unsteady.
Surely it was Katerina’s imagination that his words seemed heavier than they should be, weighted with meaning. As if he felt the same desire she did, and feared they walked a razor’s edge.
That was ridiculous. All he was doing was keeping her warm. Removing bark and dirt from her hair.
“No,” she said, struggling to keep her voice level. “Not unless you want to, that is. Don’t feel...obligated.”
Niko made a sound that hovered somewhere between a growl and a bitter laugh. He muttered something, but even close as they were, she couldn’t make it out. Just as she was about to sit up, to put an end to whatever this was, his fingers took up their slow, tortuous sifting through her hair once again.
Her shaking stilled, but Niko didn’t let go. He lay behind her, a bulwark against the night. After a bit, he rolled onto his back, doubtless so he could have a better view of their surroundings, but kept his free arm wrapped tight around her, pulling her with him, careful not to jar her wounded leg.
Katerina should move—Saints, she knew she should—but instead she lay with her head on Niko’s chest, listening to the steady, comforting thump of his heart. He’d removed all the debris from her hair, but he was still stroking it, calm and easy now, the way he petted Troitze when the stallion, who was high-strung, threatened to spook.
The way he had petted Troitze, anyway. Where were their horses? Were they dead, somewhere in the woods? She thought of Mika, who always took carrots from her hand and then nudged Katerina’s shoulder in thanks. Such a sweet horse. She didn’t deserve what had happened to her today. And now she was lost.
Tears filled her eyes, and her breath thickened. Niko pulled her closer. His lips ghosted over her hair when he spoke. “Shhh. We’re together. It will be all right.”
She wanted to ask him what he thought had happened to Mika and Troitze. If they would ever see the horses again. How they would get home, with her leg like this. What they would do if they encountered another horde on the road. How the Darkness had boiled out of the Void and devoured a village whole, then threatened to consume their souls before the Grigori attacked. But she knew he had no answers, and she was afraid that if she started talking, the magic of the moment would shatter. That she might blurt out the truth: when he held her this way, all she could think about was the feel of his body against hers. That what had happened to their friends, to their horses, to Niko himself, might be all her fault.
So she said nothing, just lay still, trying not to cry as she thought of all they had lost in the destruction of Drezna. Hoping the villagers hadn’t suffered. That it had been quick.
She wished, more than anything, that she could have saved them.
Niko was quiet, and she was sure he was wishing the same. He had been especially close with Alexandr and Leonid. Together with Damien, they’d often drunk kvass around the fire when she and Niko were the ones to deliver the tithe, and Niko had joined them on patrol. All Shadows were brothers, packs that fought together. She knew he must be mourning them, though he hadn’t said a word about it. Nor would he; a Shadow’s job was to protect, not to grieve for what had been lost. Maybe that was what was troubling him: he had no outlet for his sorrow.
She cried for them both, silent tears running down her face, until she had none left to shed. Around them, the fires blazed high, the wind stirring the branches of the trees. Overhead, the stars shone brightly, as if nothing terrible had happened at all. Katerina’s chest tightened at the sight of the Firebird constellation, beak dipping low to drink in the night and wings spread wide above the disk of the moon.
Her father had called her mother his Firebird, because of the color of her hair and the flavor of her magic. When Katerina was born, he’d called her Little Firebird, well before they knew she could call not just flame, but earth, wind, and water to her hand. Even now, fifteen years after her parents had been taken from her, whenever Katerina saw the Firebird in the night sky, she couldn’t help but think of them.
Katerina had been there when the demon ripped out her mother’s throat. She’d called her magic, meaning to incinerate the Grigori filth where he stood. But she’d only been six then, and her gifts, though powerful, were unpredictable. The demon had laughed while her mother bled to death, and Katerina’s Vila minder had fled, with Katerina howling in her arms.
Katerina would never forget the look of determination on her mother’s face when she flung herself between Katerina and the demon, nor the helplessness when her own magic failed to rise. Her mother had died saving Katerina’s life, and Katerina had dedicated herself to never feeling that helpless again. She’d vowed never again to fail those she cared for, let alone those she was sworn to protect. Now, not only had she put Kalach in danger with her stunt at the Trials, but an entire village had fallen to the Dark on her watch. Guilt and regret swirled in her stomach, a bitter brew.
She forced herself to stop thinking of such terrible things. Surely she was not responsible for what had happened tonight, for the attacks that were rising all over Iriska. It didn’t matter what she felt, after all. It only mattered what she did. And she had done nothing before the demons attacked, other than being too contrary and over-confident to turn back.
She hadn’t lost Niko, no matter her mistakes. He was still here, still hers.
Closing her eyes, she tried to memorize him: his hard chest, the carved muscle of his upper arm as it encircled her, the silken brush of his hair against her cheek. His familiar mint-and-blade-oil scent, undergirded with the garlic-and-ginger paste she’d dabbed on the scratches from the Grigori blades. He smelled, she thought, like a meal that might arise and stab you through the heart if you looked at it the wrong way. A smile lifted her lips at the thought.
Beneath her, her vicious meal of a Shadow shifted his weight. His muscles tensed, ready to spring into action, but his fingers in her hair were gentle, his touch soothing. Despite the worries that plagued her mind and the desire that heated her body, she drifted off to sleep at last, safe in her Shadow’s arms.