Containment winter solst.., p.11
Containment (Winter Solstice Book 2), page 11
I laugh. “That’s a thought. Wish I could ‘point and want’ that bukavac out of here.”
“I’m sure you can.” He winks. “It ran away when you electrified it, so it must have been frightened.”
“Or in a monumental amount of pain,” says Mr. Moody.
Something tells me things don’t quite work like my sister’s video games. I’m not chipping away at a ‘health bar graph’ and simply need to keep on zapping it until it runs out of ‘hit points’ and dies. Lightning is more like trying to kill something with an electric chair. If I’ve truly got enough power to kill something, it would kill it. And if not, all I’m doing is inflicting pain. Lance might work better in that regard. After all, if you keep whacking something with a baseball bat in the same place, it’ll eventually break.
We head out the door at 8:30 a.m., and hop in the car. Again, I’m on high alert for anyone that looks like OSA, but so far, none strike me as worrisome.
The little restaurant is open―and packed. People hover over plates of fried eggs with round sliced meat, crepe-like triangles, and a few have hockey-puck sized biscuits. Almost everyone’s drinking tea. Rada and a girl I’ve not seen before in her mid-teens run around attending to tables. Motya appears every so often at a little window behind the counter to hand plates out.
“Wow.” I look up at Cristiano. “This might not be a good time.”
Rada waves at us and walks over after dropping off a plate of those hockey puck things. The man she gave them to raises his mug of tea at her and declares this place has the best syrniki in all of Volgograd. A few other patrons murmur in agreement.
“Good morning,” says Rada as she glides over to us. “Have you come for food or something more pressing?”
“I’ve got questions, but you’re so busy.”
She smiles. “Have you eaten?”
“Yes.” I chuckle at the foolishness of what I’m about to say. “We didn’t want to wake you too early.”
Rada cackles. “If the sun is up, so are we. Come. You help, I talk.”
I follow her to the window. Cristiano trails after us and leans on the pastry counter.
The teen glides by with a teapot. “A new girl, grandmother?”
“No, no… she’s merely helping for a few minutes while we chat.” Rada hands me two plates, picks up three, and directs me toward a table.
“Oh wow.” The young woman stares at me. She’s maybe fifteen and I’m still shorter. Sigh. “Are you an actor?”
“Nope. Intrepid elf photographer.” I wink.
“So, what’s on your mind?” Rada places the plates in front of a group of men who look like workers, all in the same drab blue shirts and pants. She taps the plate in my left hand and points at a little guy with a mustache.
I set the breakfast down as indicated and give the other one to the only person at the table without a plate in front of her. Once we’re back near the kitchen, I lower my voice and say, “The vodyanoy has abducted a woman and a boy, and it went quite well away from the water to the house. I believe it’s trying to hold them in exchange for the city getting rid of the bukavac. How long do you think we have before their lives are in danger?”
“Hmm.” Rada looks around, and apparently satisfied no one needs immediate attention, steps over to the counter full of pastries. Motya’s murmuring, and that of another man, emanates from the passé-plat to the kitchen. “If he’s taken them alive, it’s likely made servants of them. I do not believe it would willingly release them even if its terms are met. Especially if it had to travel far from the water to find them.”
Damn. So much for just dealing with the bukavac. Okay. The vodyanoy’s become my priority. It’s humanoid enough that I don’t cringe at possibly having to kill it like I do at the idea of killing an animal. Of course, I’d prefer not to, but before I do anything, there’s still the matter of having to find it. “Where do you think the vodyanoy would be hiding?”
Rada smiles like I’d asked what color the sky was. “At the bottom of the Volga in a cave, a mound, or a shipwreck. It must live near to where those men disturbed it.”
“What do you think it would be doing with that boy and his mother?” I ask.
She sighs. “What do servants do? Looking after its home, cooking, cleaning, fixing… possibly brushing its hair.” Rada hands me a kettle and points at a table. “Would you be a dear and refill the tea?”
Three middle-aged men smile at me. The way the center one stares makes me think I might actually have charm powers. Fortunately, none of them do anything inappropriate. When I return to the counter, I grimace at Rada. “So, you’re saying I’ll need to check the bottom of the river?”
She nods. “Much easier to say than to do.”
“I don’t mean to change the subject,” says Cristiano, who had been listening nearby, “but do you know of any weaknesses the bukavac might have that we could use to our advantage?”
Rada shifts her eyes around while thinking for a few seconds, then offers a weak shrug. “These things have not been well documented, you must understand. In centuries, perhaps one or two have been seen, talked about, and vanished. Usually, those beasts crawl up from the water in the middle of the night, make a whole bunch of noise, and disappear. I suspect this creature could not venture too far from water without harming itself, but as to a weakness? I cannot say.”
Wonderful… so I’m back to improvising. “Oh… I saw something else in the family’s house.” I describe the little hairy old man.
“Oh, likely a domovoi.” Rada grins. “A house spirit. Nothing to worry about so long as it likes the family. If not, they can become annoying, but mostly banging and knocking. Usually they’re quite shy. That it showed itself to you is most curious. I imagine it is irritated at the disruption of the vodyanoy invading the home, and perhaps senses you are capable of helping.”
Motya leans in the passé-plat. “So the vodyanoy has taken Likhachev’s family?”
I cringe. Great. If the FSB is watching us, there goes that ‘don’t talk about it’ rule. “I didn’t say that…”
Cristiano tenses, eyeing the room. When he relaxes, so do I. Must not be any government agents here―at least any who are obvious.
He smirks. “Bah. The government and their secrets. Who was taken is easy enough to figure out, but I will not put you in the position of discomfort by talking about it. I am sure they told you not to speak of the situation publicly. Likhachev and his people will not be able to keep this secret for long. I would not worry about them doing anything to you. For them to deal with the lizard without your help, they would need the Army, and the Army would wind up doing more damage to Volgograd than the bukavac.”
“Really?” I exhale a long, slow breath. Oh, this is going to suck. “Is it that difficult to hurt?”
Motya laughs. “No. The soldiers’ aim is that poor.”
Rada swats at him with a rag.
“They will see that thing and lose their minds.” Motya pantomimes a machine gun firing. “They will shoot and shoot and only care that the bullets go in the general direction of the bukavac, and it will be worse if they bring out the bigger guns. You try to kill a roach with a torch, and you burn down your whole house.”
“My sidearm didn’t seem to bother it much.” Cristiano frowns.
I glance up at him with a guilty smirk. “It might help if I put a little magic on your bullets. I had to do something like that once for a friend of mine in New York so she could hurt a ghoul.”
“Oy.” Rada mutters something and makes a gesture over herself. “May one of those things never cross my path.”
I bow my head and rub the bridge of my nose. “So the domovoi is nothing to worry about, the vodyanoy is probably not going to release the people it took even if we get rid of the bukavac, and the bukavac is a giant pain in the ass.”
“Now she understands.” Motya nods. “It would be easier to return the bukavac to where it belongs than convince Rada’s mother to go home.”
Rada swats at him with a towel again, but grins.
“So, how can I get the vodyanoy to release them?” I ask.
Rada shrugs. “You would need to find its dwelling where it keeps them prisoner, and lead them from the dwelling. While they remain inside, they will be entranced.”
“Great, but… I can’t go to the bottom of the Volga River.”
Cristiano reaches for his phone. “I might be able to get some scuba gear.”
“Come.” Rada beckons me to follow her as she heads for the narrow door to the kitchen. “I fix.”
round four in the afternoon, I’m standing naked in my borrowed bedroom staring at the ‘elf clothes’ on the small writing desk. On one hand, I could just Vanish and save my dignity. Yes, I’d consider wearing nothing at all to have more self-respect than putting the Slave Leia thing on again. At least it doesn’t have a collar. On the other hand, if I do find Mrs. Likhachev and her son, neither a voice from nowhere nor my birthday suit are going to be received well.
Damn.
I sigh and grab the bottom. The thin belt snaps closed around my waist with a click, the chilly metal against my stomach makes be suck in a sharp breath. It’s eerie how perfectly this thing fits. I spend a moment tracing my finger over the delicate leaf pattern engraved in the… maybe gold? There’s a minor bit of magic in it; perhaps it adjusts size? Grumbling, I put the top on and burn a few minutes doing a contortionist act trying to reach the back clasp. My face winds up jammed in the mattress with my rear end in the air, but I’m rewarded with a click.
“You know, you could’ve cast Open backward on it,” says Mr. Moody.
Grr. “Why didn’t you―because you wanted to watch me make a fool of myself.”
Mr. Moody preens, licking his paw.
“Thanks.” I scoop him up and growl playfully while scratching at his belly.
“Why are you putting that contraption on again if you hate it so?”
I toss Mr. Moody to the bed and frown at my fancy gold-and-burgundy elven ‘clothing.’ My debate about going to buy something better doesn’t last long. I can’t risk two peoples’ lives over a little dignity.
“Because,” I say, “I didn’t pack a swimsuit for this trip. This is at least a little coverage, and it’s somewhat enchanted, so it won’t rip off me.” Hmm. Maybe that’s why the thin parts are metal that locks… after my dance with the bukavac gave me a taste of how I can move, perhaps ordinary clothing wouldn’t stay on an aerobatic elf.
“Hmm.”
I step into my boot-sneaker hybrids. “I’m not wasting time running around Volgograd looking for a swimsuit while a woman and her son are being held captive. This thing is basically a bikini.”
“You know, I suspect Desjardin was pulling your leg about that being ‘common’ for the Val’nathiri to wear. The garment has the look of ceremony to it. Perhaps a particular order of priests… or maybe it’s elf underwear, like you’re supposed to have airy robes or some such other things on top of it.”
I shrug. “The fact that I find it less embarrassing to wear nothing at all makes me think you’re right about being underwear.” That makes me ponder the awkwardness of going outside in a bra and panties versus a bikini when both cover about the same amount of skin.
Mr. Moody jumps to the floor, tail swishing. “Or, the more likely situation, the OSA made it specifically for you to be sacrificed in.”
“Ugh. You think?”
The cat trots out the door. “While I suppose he might’ve ordered it from Amazon-dot-elf.”
“Ha. Ha.” I follow him to the living room where Cristiano is waiting, holding up a black coat for me. “Oh, thank you. I didn’t even consider…”
He smiles.
“Think about it.” Mr. Moody sits. “If he could go to their realm to obtain those items, he’d have access to elves at will. You already know he’s not that experienced. I’d be shocked if he could even open a gateway.”
I pull the coat on. It’s Cristiano’s, so it covers me to the knees. “He’s better at portals than I am. And maybe they had drawings or something from years ago.”
“But portals are not the same as crossing planar boundaries,” says Mr. Moody. “That’s bridging dimensions, not merely going to another location on the same one.”
“Okay, okay.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “I accept that this ridiculous garment was made for me, specifically to be killed in.”
“Truly a fashion ensemble to die for,” mumbles Mr. Moody.
I glare at him.
My cat rolls on his back, laughing.
“Come on,” I say. “We’re wasting time.”
Cristiano nods, and leads the way out to the car.
City traffic sucks, no matter what country you’re in. On the ride to the place where the vodyanoy attacked the cultists, we get stuck at a standstill four times and nearly get hit twice. White-knuckling the door handle, I start trying to think of magical ways to shield a car from a sudden, severe impact.
“You’re being dramatic,” says Cristiano, noting my death grip on the handle.
I laugh. “Dramatic? I don’t want to wind up on YouTube in someone’s Russian dashcam fail video.”
He laughs. “It’s really not that bad.”
The guy behind us pulls into the oncoming lane to attempt passing, but ducks back seconds later when he spots a huge truck heading for him. He overcorrects and almost goes off the road on the passenger side. Once he manages to stabilize in the lane, he starts shouting at us as if we’re the idiots.
“I’m overreacting?” I sigh.
Cristiano offers an ‘innocent’ smile.
It takes almost forty minutes, but we eventually reach the water’s edge unscathed.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” asks Cristiano.
I pull off his jacket. Brr. Holy crap, it’s cold right near the water. “No. I have no damn idea.”
As soon as I cast Hearth, the magic encircles me with a faintly visible light that seeps into my skin. In seconds, the frigid, blustery wind has its fangs pulled and I’m neither cold nor warm. I’d planned on using that spell anyway since I expected the Volga river to be frigid, like going for a dip in the North Atlantic.
I pull my shoe-boots off and hand them to Cristiano. If I have to Pocket my clothing to go invisible, now I only have two items to deal with.
Anyway, the poor guy’s teeth are chattering, but it’s got to be from watching me standing here in almost nothing. Sympathy chills.
“What’s with the teeth?” I tease. “Isn’t there some Russian thing where guys cut a hole in ice to go swimming?”
“Yes, but that makes my skin crawl too, and I’m not Russian.” He chuckles. “I keep asking the Keepers to transfer me back to Italy, but they need to find someone to take over this area first.”
“Heh.” I take a few steps closer to the water, cringing at the squish of mud between my toes. “Maybe finding a replacement will get easier now that magic is returning.”
He shrugs, a rather Italian gesture. “Hey, how will I know if you need help or something?”
“I’ll let you know,” says Mr. Moody.
I stop and spin around. “You’re not coming?”
He rears up on his hind legs, points at me with one paw while folding the other across his belly. Once he stops laughing, he gestures at the river. “That’s water, hon. I’m a cat.”
“Okay fine. Guard my stuff.”
Mr. Moody tilts his head. “You already have a guard dog. I’m second in command.”
Cristiano rolls his eyes.
I laugh. “Okay, here goes nothing. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Rada showed me a way to use magic to breathe underwater. It’s a little annoying since, much like my Russian amulet, it trades the ability to breathe air. Meaning, for as long as Gills is on me, I need to be in water. Granted, as with most spells, I can get rid of it whenever I want, as fast as thinking about it.
Damn. Not having a camera along for this hurts. I know I’m going to see something that would make an excellent story. All right. I wade into the river, doing my best to ignore the unspeakable sliminess underfoot. Fortunately, Hearth keeps both the water and the mud at a neutral temperature. So weird. As soon as the water’s up to my boobs, I cast Gills, and my throat closes off like Mike Tyson’s choking me out.
With a final, quick wave at Cristiano, I dive under.
Any thought I’d ever had when I was a kid that ‘practicing magic is boring’ I apologize for. What I’m doing right now would be utterly impossible without the combination of ‘stay warm’ and ‘breathe water’ spells. The Volga is murky and dark, but as comfortable as a lukewarm bathtub. Another side effect of Gills turns out to be membrane webs between my fingers. Yay! Seriously, that’s not creepy and weird at all. Okay, it is, but at the moment, anything that helps me is awesome.
There’s probably a way to give myself a mermaid’s tail, but let’s not go crazy.
I swim forward and down, hugging close to the river bottom. It doesn’t take long for it to get too dark to see, so I cast Light. A billiard-ball-sized glowing blue orb leaps out of my hand and glides up to a gentle orbit around my head. Mentally, I direct it to float off in front of me and hover six feet ahead. It’s not much, but my oversensitive eyes make up for it.
Onward and downward, I swim, looking around for any sign of a vodyanoy, a dwelling, or―shudder―the bukavac. Perhaps making a light ball is stupid, but I can’t see otherwise. There’s gotta be a night vision spell somewhere. I bet Dad can help me out there… if I ever make it home. This Russian assignment feels like it’s going to eat a good chunk of time. Hopefully, it won’t eat a good chunk of my backside, too.
One good thing: the halter-top and loincloth ensemble doesn’t slow me down in the water. Why would it? There’s almost nothing to it. Grr. Why did Moody have to make such a big deal about it being fake? He’s right though. Unless another Val’nathiri came through from the Echo long ago and somehow the OSA got a hold of her clothing… where would they have gotten it? It’s far more likely he made it based on drawings or guesswork.
